The Trails That I Follow

[turps]

Title: The Trails That I Follow
Pairing: Implied Bob/Brian
Rating: PG-13
Word count: 23k
Warning: Death of original characters, description of physical injuries, traumatic situations.

Written for bandom_hc Prompt: 335. plane crash!MCR! The guys are flying in a storm, in a private jet (just the band, Brian and Worm) when the plane crashes in the ocean. The guys end up stranded on and island, waiting for rescue. Heartbreaking scenes with Mikey cradling Gerard's unconscious body to his chest and rocking. Bob trying to hide is serious injuries from the rest while working hard to build shelter and find food. Pairings optional but Bob-centric is prefered. Lots of boys trying to act like everything is going to be okay while being scared to death and trying to take care of each other.

A/N: Huge thanks go to teaforbryony for running the challenge of my heart. To sperrywink who yet again was there every inch of the way as I wrote. To themoononastick and mahoni for the great beta and for prodding me to keep writing until I reached a much better end. Since they've seen this I've changed a lot, so any mistakes are mine and mine alone.

Finally thanks to llumi for all the medical information. She hasn't actually read this so any misuse of this info is on my shoulders only.






Ray hates flying. He tells himself that he's used to it now, and in some ways that's true. They fly so often it's been a case of learning to deal, and the more flights he takes the easier it becomes -- but that doesn't mean it's easy. No matter what class they travel the seats are always uncomfortable and the air tastes weird, holding the taint of chemicals that settles in Ray's mouth and lungs.

When they're shoved into a plane barely big enough to hold them and their luggage, well, things are a thousand times worse.

Attempting to get comfortable, Ray shifts to the side, wincing when his elbow impacts against the hard edge of his seat. Rubbing at the bone he turns slightly, his knee jammed against the wall in front as he looks around, needing the distraction. In the row behind, Bob's mouth is open as he sleeps, his head against a small white pillow and his legs tucked up, wedged against the back of Ray's seat. Next to him, Gerard's slumped to the side and his sunglasses have slid down his nose, looking like they're going to fall off at any moment. Ray reaches between the seats and pushes them back up with his finger.

"Weh?" Frank mutters, still half asleep in the seat next to Ray. Freezing in place, Ray waits until Frank settles. As much as he wants distractions he's not about to take away much needed rest, especially when the next few weeks are blocked out with constant promo and appearances.

"Swap you?"

Ray looks past Frank and sees that Brian's awake, and is squashed against the window, Mikey taking up almost two thirds of the seats. Which should be against the laws of physics, Ray cranes his head, trying to see how someone so skinny can take up so much space.

"He's like, some fucking octopus," Brian says, but he's making no attempt to push Mikey away, just drums his fingers against his knee as Mikey sighs softly in his sleep, looking perfectly comfortable, his head resting against Brian's shoulder. "Next leg he's sitting with Worm."

Ray swallows and glances back at Worm, who's sitting in the back row and sharing with nothing but a bag containing an array of magazines and a bottle of water. He's lying sideways, earbuds jammed into his ears, the wire disappearing into his shirt. Ray envies him his easy sleep and room to move, especially when Frank mutters drowsily and shifts onto his side, his mouth pressed against Ray's arm.

"Or you put him with Frank," Ray says, and gently eases out his arm, leaving behind a trail of drool that stretches from elbow to wrist.

Brian stares, his mouth curling up slightly at one side. "Works for me."

Ray leans forward, forehead almost touching the wall in front as he tries to work the kinks out of his back. "An hour, I can make that."

"Then onto the next flight," Brian says, sounding as reluctant as Ray feels. He looks down at Mikey, only moving his eyes. "I can't believe I miss the fucking tour buses."

Ray yawns. He misses them too, especially when he's stuck in a tin can thousands of feet in the sky. It's something he tries not to think of, his stomach twisting with nerves each time he pictures being suspended in thin air. It doesn't seem natural and he can feel sweat break out at the nape of his neck. He swallows again, says, "Next time you need to book us on luxury jets. We're rock stars, we should have fold out beds and stewardesses bringing us hot towels."

"I don't think they're called that now," Brian frowns toward the cockpit, where their own attendant -- an older woman called Tina -- had disappeared nearly twenty minutes before.

"They're flight attendants, right?" Ray sits back up and plucks the information booklet out of the holder on the wall, opening it up and flicking through the pages. "It says here....Fucking hell!"

Ray grabs for the armrest when the plane suddenly shudders and dips forward sending Ray sliding in his seat. Bracing his feet against the floor the booklet falls to the ground when he instinctively holds his arm against Frank's chest, keeping him in place.

Brian half-stands as the door to the cockpit opens and Tina appears. She looks worried as she holds onto the doorway, raising her voice so she can be heard over the high-pitched whine of the engines. "We've run into some mechanical difficulties, if you could all fasten your seatbelts. I'll be back with news as soon as I have it."

She goes back into the cockpit, the door shutting behind her, and all around him Ray can hear people waking. Twisting to the side he tugs at Frank's seatbelt, fastening it around him as Frank looks around blearily, still half-asleep. Across the aisle Brian's doing the same to Mikey, and he puts his hand on Mikey's shoulder, keeping him in place when he tries to stand.

"Sit still." Brian looks around, taking command. "Gerard, Bob, Worm, are you all belted in?"

Ray's relieved when they all say yes, and he tightens his own belt until it's digging into his stomach. It still doesn't feel like enough and he feels like throwing up as the whole cabin starts to shudder and oxygen masks drop from overhead, swinging wildly on the end of their clear tubes.

"Is that smoke?"

Worm sounds panicked, and Ray can hardly breathe when he turns and sees a trail of smoke through the window. It's like all his nightmares are coming true and he's gripping the armrest, nails digging in, and actually whimpers when the door slams open and Tina appears again, clinging to the doorframe.

"You'll have noticed difficulties have escalated and we're aiming for the nearest emergency landing space. If you could all assume the crash position." She hesitates and swallows hard, and Ray sees that she’s sweating despite the outward projection of calm. "Assume the positions now."

A last look and Ray's leaning forward, his head between his knees. Beneath him the floor is shaking and Ray reaches for Frank's hand, curling their fingers together and holding on.

"I love you all." Ray grips harder at the sound of Gerard's voice, and he knows he has to be hurting Frank's hand, but he can't seem to loosen his grip, not when Gerard sounds so wrecked, obviously convinced he's saying his goodbyes. "Mikey....fuck, Mikey. I couldn't have had a better brother."

"We're going to be fucking fine." Bob, trying to sound sure despite the way his words tremble and all Ray can do is keep praying and, when there's an explosion and they plummet even more sharply toward the ground, scream.


~*~*~*~

Ray wakes and realizes there's something hard jabbing him in the side. He thinks he's fallen asleep with his iPod jammed between his body and his bed, it won't be the first time, or the last. He moves to tug it free, and immediately the pain hits, an agonizing wave that makes Ray cry out as he tries to curl up and keep breathing. It feels like his whole body has been flayed, his skin raw and his bones shards. There's not a place he isn't hurting and he whimpers as he begins to remember -- an explosion of light and sound, the plane plummeting down, the sound of screaming as they hit ground -- glass exploding inwards and metal buckling as the side of the plane was torn free.

Ray turns his head and vomits, unable to stop the tears when each retch brings fresh pain. When he's finished his whole body is throbbing and all he wants to do is close his eyes and give in to the darkness that's pushing close; so tempting with the possibility of nothingness -- no pain, no memories, just black, because Ray doesn't want to deal. It's too hard and he's hurting and every tiny movement is an effort.

Slowly, Ray opens his eyes. As much as he wants to give in he won't, because he needs to find his friends, his brothers.

At first all he can see is sand, golden and covered in dark patches, then further, some kind of trees and a large hunk of metal, a shadowed shape at its side. Squinting, Ray tries to understand what he's seeing, because the shape is vaguely human, but wrong, like the limbs have been rearranged and the torso flattened. His heart racing, Ray pieces things together -- the curve of a calf, a bare foot, dark hair lying against the sand, and then some distance away, a hand, the fingers splayed.

"No," Ray mutters, and his chest burns as he turns onto his side, his arm trembling as he pushes himself up onto his knees. All the time he keeps watching that shape and grief is yet another physical hurt as he wavers and spits, blood and shards of teeth landing on the sand. Nauseous, he waits for the dizziness to pass and he's read medical articles in magazines. He knows he shouldn't be moving and he can't help think of shattered ribs and blood pooling in his belly, but none of those magazines said what to do in a situation like this and Ray has to move.

On hands and knees, he crawls forward, and the sand is forced between his fingers, gold turning red and he knows if he looks behind him he'll be leaving a trail. He gets closer and sees that the metal is part of the side of the plane, crumpled and blackened, but he still can't see who the figure is, just blood and bones and things that glisten. Arms shaking, Ray vomits up bile mixed with blood, spits out another tooth before moving again, and all the time he has to listen to his own harsh breathing. Waves against the shore, the rustle of trees, the crack of settling metal, but no voices or other human sounds -- and that frightens Ray more than anything.

"Hey, hello," Ray says, and the words sound funny, thick as Ray tries to talk, his mouth swollen and slick with blood. The person lying on the sand doesn't reply. Ray knew they wouldn't -- he hoped they wouldn't, not when they look like that -- but he has to say something, a distraction against the constant mental screams. He gets even closer -- close enough to touch, to finally clearly see, and relief makes him light-headed -- it's the flight attendant, her mouth wide open and her clothes ripped into shreds.

"I'm sorry, so sorry." A moment of thought and Ray pulls at her skirt, ensuring that she's partially covered. It's the least he can do, especially when all he can think is Thank God. Thank God it wasn't his friends, because Tina was nice, she joked with them and showed Ray pictures of her kids. Closing his eyes, Ray whispers a prayer and then turns away, having to search.

He doesn't see anything at first, he's too low to the ground and residual smoke is making the air hazy. Steeling himself, Ray pushes himself to his feet, gasping at the fresh pain in his chest and stomach. Resting his hand against his ribs he can't feel anything broken, but they feel like they are, and he takes in sharp gasps for air as he turns, looking around. He sees more metal on the beach, a suitcase, its contents strewn along the water line, and then further along the beach, three figures, all of them lying still.

Sheer fear gets Ray moving, he stumbles forward, and realizes he's lost one of his sneakers as he half runs-half walks over the tiny shells that dig into the sole of his foot. "Please, please, please." Ray repeats the mantra as he gets closer and sees that it's Frank lying on the shore, the waves breaking over his legs, pulling back with clear water streaked with blood. Worm lying on his side, still attached to his seat. Bob sprawled on his front. None of them are moving and Ray doesn't know who to check first. It's an impossible choice and he frantically looks at them all, hoping for the smallest sign.

Then Frank moves, his fingers twitching and with a last look at Bob and Worm, Ray staggers to his side and collapses down, seeing that Frank's legs look wrong, his feet at painful angles. "Frank? Frank, you need to wake up. Please."

Frank moves his hand and opens his eyes, and Ray hates the sounds that are torn from Frank's throat as he tries to move, his mouth open and eyes wide as his fingers dig into the damp sand. "Whu... What?"

"The plane crashed, remember?" Ray rests his hand on Frank's side, his touch gentle because Frank looks to be all bruise under the tattered remains of his t-shirt. "I need. I need to check the others. Try not to move."

A last touch and Ray's crawling away, hating to leave but he needs to check Bob, who's lying so still that Ray's afraid to touch, sure that when he does he'll find that it's already too late. Hesitantly, Ray reaches out, his hand shaking as he touches Bob's back. "Bob?" There's no reply, and Bob's motionless, his face in the sand. Throat tight, Ray gets in close and fastens his fingers in Bob's t-shirt, needing to cling to something. "Bob. God, Bob, you need to wake up, please."

"Stop."

At first Ray thinks he's projecting what he wants to hear, because Bob still hasn't moved, but Ray takes the chance, peeling Bob's hair away from the side of his face. "Bob?"

"M awake," Bob slurs and finally, finally moves, turning his head to the side. He squints shut his eyes and brings up his arm, touching his cheek, his fingertips over the deep gash that runs from his forehead to his ear. "The others?"

"I've found Frank, he's alive," Ray says, and looks over his shoulder to where Frank's still lying on his back, soaked to the waist and his eyes closed. "I need. Fuck." Ray clenches his hands and takes a deep breath against the panic that pushes close. He needs to check Frank, and Worm. He needs to find Brian, Mikey and Gerard. "Worm's here too, I haven't checked him yet."

"Go see him." Bob's slowly sitting and under the congealed blood his skin looks grey. "I'll look for the others."

"Can you even stand?" Ray asks and grits his teeth as he stands himself, swaying in place as Bob grimaces as he gets onto his knees and then slowly, onto his feet.

"I can stand," Bob says, and he's panting for breath as he shades his eyes with his hand, looking along the shore that's littered with dark shapes, each one made meaningless by distorted lines and warped angles. "I'll go that way."

Ray wants to go with him, but he knows time is an issue and they have to split up, he nods, says, "Yell if you find them."

For a few lurching steps they walk side by side, then Ray touches Bob's arm, needing that contact before they separate, Bob walking away as Ray kneels next to Worm, thankful when within seconds he's sees that he's breathing. "Worm, you need to wake up." Ray pats Worm's face and carefully plucks off the shards of glass that covers his chest and glints in his hair. "Worm."

"Ray?" Worm's eyes open suddenly, and Ray can see him snap into hazy awareness. "The plane..."

"Crashed," Ray says, his fingers slipping against the metal as he struggles to open the buckle of the seat belt that's tight around Worm's lap. "I've found Frank and Bob."

"Fuck." Worm groans when the seatbelt opens and he slumps down, his hand against the sand. "The rest?"

"Not yet." Ray looks toward Bob and sees that he's bent over, hands braced on his knees. "Bob's looking for them."

"I'll go help." Worm starts to stand and Ray can see the effort it takes to bite back the pain, Worm's mouth a thin line and his expression set. It's an expression Ray sees often, the studied one Worm uses when things are going to hell except this time there's no bus within easy reach where they can be ushered to safety. Making a quick decision, Ray looks back at Bob, who's still hunched over and frozen in place.

"Can you stay with Frank? Get him out of the water if you can, I'll go with Bob."

At first Ray thinks Worm's about to refuse, but then he looks at Bob too, and then nods. "Don't do anything stupid."

"I won't," Ray says, and his chest aches as he heads away from Frank, hating leaving him even if he knows he's in good hands. It doesn't take long to catch up with Bob. Ray looks at his footsteps in the sand, seeing how they waver and detour past items on the beach. Bob's wolf hoodie, Frank's book, the pages fluttering in the slight breeze, lumps of metal and broken glass.

"Is Worm okay?" Bob asks, standing almost upright when Ray gets close.

"He's walking and talking," Ray says, beyond that he's got nothing. He's sure Worm's carrying some injury, they all are, but cataloguing has to wait until they're all together. "He's looking after Frank."

"Good," Bob says, his voice low as he frowns and starts to walk again, never changing his path when he wavers into the surf, the water breaking over his feet. "Gerard should have been near me, we were sitting together."

Ray thinks about the plane, how Mikey and Brian were across the aisle, Worm in the row behind. Logically Gerard should be close to where he found Bob, but none of this is logical and Ray tries to walk faster, his heart hammering when he sees something close to the trees that grow along the edge of the sand. "Is that an arm?"

"I think, yeah." Bob moves so he's in front of Ray, taking the lead as they hurry forward. The sand shifts under Ray's feet making him lose his balance when Bob yells, "Brian!"

This close Ray can see it is Brian, his arm flung outwards, his body resting against the trunk of a tree. His eyes are open but he's not moving and guilt strikes hard when, for a fleeting moment, Ray's glad it's Bob that eases himself to the ground at Brian's side and presses his fingers against his neck.

"Is he?..."

"He's alive," Bob closes his eyes, his lips moving soundlessly, then he gently pats Brian's face and says, "It's time to wake up you lazy fucker." Brian doesn't respond, just looks blankly ahead, Bob pats his face again. "I swear, you'd better wake up. We're not doing all the work alone."

Still no response, and Ray's thinking brain injuries and fractured skulls, things they can't deal with at all. Looking away from Brian's blank stare, Ray sees they're kneeling on moss, the trees providing a thick canopy above their heads. If he wasn't so scared it would be a beautiful spot, the shadows a relief from the strong sun and Ray's trying to think of practicalities and not Brian's wide-eyed glassy stare. "I think we should bring Frank and Worm here."

"Makes sense," Bob says, and he looks up, his hand on Brian's chest. "We'll being them here once we find Gerard and Mikey."

"Right," Ray says, and his whole body is throbbing, a steady bone deep ache as he looks back along the beach, Worm a small figure as he kneels next to Frank. "How. I mean. What about Brian?"

"We'll have to leave him here for now, there's nothing we can do for him yet," Bob says shortly, his expression set, but he's moving his thumb over a rip in Brian's shirt, gently stroking the skin beneath. "Considering the lazy bastard won't wake up it's all we can do."

Ray turns away, his hand shading his eyes as he looks further along the shore, where a plume of black smoke darkens the brilliant blue of the sky. "We should see where the smoke's coming from."

Bob nods and leans closer to Brian, says softly, "Fine, you keep sleeping a while longer. We're going to find Mikey and Gerard, the fuckers have gone missing; and someone isn't awake to find them." Leaning against the tree, Bob struggles to stand, and then starts to walk. "We need to find the crew, too."

"Tina's dead." Ray remembers her face, how wrong she looked, her body destroyed and flung on the sand. "I haven't seen the captain, he's probably...." Ray freezes in place then, suddenly remembering his phone. It's something he should have thought about long before and he's cursing himself as he pats at his pockets. "The phones. I never even checked."

"Wasn't it in your bag?" Bob asks, and Ray's head feels like it's bursting as he tries to remember. How he got into his seat and everything was so cramped, his phone digging into his side so he pulled it out and dropped it in his carry on, something that could be anywhere now.

"Yours?" Ray has to ask, even though Bob's making no attempt to search his pockets.

"In my bag." Bob starts to walk again. "Mikey'll have his. I doubt there'll be a signal but we can try it when we find him."

Reassured that Bob's saying when and not if, Ray picks up the pace, even though all he wants to do is drop to the ground and lie still, but he knows if he does that he won't get up. It's why he forces himself to keep moving, head down and his feet dragging, over the shells and dark patches, so stark against the blanket of white. Most of them line the indents in the sand and the longer Ray examines them the more he suspects what he's seeing. He looks up, at the patches that stretch forward in a wavering line.

"Does that look like blood to you?"

Ray digs the toe of his sneaker against the dark sand, and Bob bends slightly, looking down. "I think, yeah."

As one they begin to follow the trail, around a curve in the beach to a cove, where they find the main body of the plane surrounded by destroyed trees, and close by -- Mikey. He's sitting on the ground, one side of his face bloody, holding Gerard cradled against his chest.

"Mikey," Ray says, and relief hits -- a little -- because even though Mikey is obviously alive Gerard's body is lax, his head hanging back over Mikey's arm. "Mikey, is Gerard okay?"

"I had to find Gerard, I couldn't leave him." Blinking rapidly, Mikey ducks his head, his cheek against Gerard's.

"Yeah," Bob says. "It's good you found him."

Mikey looks up and bites at his bottom lip and takes an audible breath. "I had to find Gee first."

Ray looks behind him, at the dark patches that stretch along the beach and how Mikey's boots are missing, his hands and feet covered with blood. "You came a long way."

"I woke up and he wasn't there," Mikey says, his tone blank. "I had to find him."

Ray exchanges a look with Bob and steps closer, needing to check Gerard himself, because Mikey's so shut down it's impossible to know if Gerard's alive, even when normally he knows Mikey's every tell. "He's okay?"

"I think he hit his head, he's been unconscious since I found him."

"Thank god," Ray says and Bob mutters something under his breath before turning toward the plane.

"I'm going to look for the pilot."

Mikey indicates the side of the plane with a jerk of his head and tightens his hold on Gerard. "He's over there. I tried, but I couldn't....I tried."

The last thing Ray wants to do is look, and his stomach churns as he heads for a tree, the body of the pilot laid out at its base. Ray doesn't need to get close to see that he's dead but he does so anyway, taking in the jagged gash across the pilot's stomach and Mikey's blood-soaked hoodie lying in a wet heap. It's evidence Ray can't help fitting together and he shudders, needing to get away from the cloying smell of blood and smoke.

"There'll be a first-aid kit inside; I'm going to get it." Bob looks determined as he makes for the plane, toward the gaping hole in the side that exposes crumpled seats and luggage all tangled together. "You help Mikey with Gerard; we need to get back to the others."

"Be careful," Ray says, pushing aside thoughts of explosions as Bob clambers inside the plane, making things shift with a shriek of metal that makes Ray shiver as he whispers a prayer over the pilot before going back to Mikey and Gerard. "Mikey." Ray crouches as much as he can, breathing through the fire that burns in his chest as he looks at Mikey's face and as much of Gerard as he can see. "Do you have your phone?"

Mikey tilts his head forward slightly. "It's in my pocket," and makes no attempt to get it.

"Is it okay..." At Mikey's blank look Ray lowers himself down and eases his hand into Mikey's pocket. It's a tight fit and it takes a while before Ray is able to prise the phone free. When he does it slips from his hand, the screen and casing slick with blood. Thankfully it still seems intact and Ray picks up the phone wiping it in the sand, leaving behind a smear of red. He looks at the screen -- there's no signal, and Ray had expected that, but the disappointment is still crushing.

"Nothing?"

Ray looks over his shoulder and sees Bob sliding out of the plane. He's carrying a bottle of water, a small first-aid kit looped across his shoulder, and when his feet hit the ground he wavers before pulling himself upright, his lips white. Ray shakes his head, says, "Nothing."

"It was worth a try," Bob says, and looks at his watch. "We should get going, I'll come back for more later."

"We'll come back," Ray corrects, and yet again steels himself before standing. It's not getting any easier and when he's upright he curls his arm protectively around his chest, taking the water as Bob reaches for Gerard.

"I'll take him."

"No you won't," Mikey unexpectedly snaps, and glares up at Bob as if defying him to try and touch Gerard again. "I can look after him."

"Never said you couldn't," Bob says mildly, backing up a pace. "But we need to get back to the others."

"Then I'll carry him," Mikey announces, and Ray doubts Mikey could carry Gerard for long at the best of times, and this is a long way from that. "Give me a minute to get up."

"Mikey." Ray takes a step forward and Mikey looks wild, his eyes narrowed and his mouth pulled into a snarl.

"Don't touch him. I can do it."

Ray's eyes burn and he leans in when Bob moves close, needing to touch as Mikey struggles to his feet while still holding Gerard. It's painful to watch and Ray's vision is blurred when Mikey eventually manages to stand upright, Gerard cradled in his arms. Gerard's head is tilted back, exposing the bruising on his face and the bloody handprints on one cheek. He still hasn't made a sound or moved and seeing him like this, when Gerard is always moving somehow, is wrong.

Bob gives Mikey a long look and begins to walk, the first-aid kit bumping against his back. "If you need me to take him...."

Despite the way his arms are already shaking, Mikey straightens his shoulders, says, "I won't."

Ray hesitates a moment and pushes his hair out of his face, then starts to walk. One foot in front of the other, going slow to accommodate Mikey who's limping badly, his brow furrowed as he keeps on moving. Together they make a macabre parade, Mikey and Gerard in front, Bob and Ray half a step behind, neither saying so but there to help when Mikey inevitably falls. They're all bloody and bruised, their clothes torn and as they walk cuts reopen, droplets of blood landing on the sand like liquid confetti.

No one is speaking and the silence allows Ray's thoughts free reign. He thinks about Brian lying so still, Frank motionless in the surf, Mikey, fierce as he protects his brother, and Bob, ploughing on without acknowledging his own hurts. Together they make for a terrifying reality and all Ray wants to do is go home.

"We'll get rescued," Bob says suddenly and he stops watching Mikey to look at Ray. "The pilot'll have made a distress call, all we need to do is hold on until they get here."

It's reassuring to think of rescue already on the way, but the time between the first hint of something wrong and the plane plummeting down seems little more than a minute and Ray's worried it wasn't enough. "It happened so fast."

"He'll have got something out." Bob seems sure and he looks toward the ocean that seems to stretch for miles, their own perfect blue prison. "We just need to wait. Some first-aid, a shelter, we'll be fine overnight."

Ray looks at him. "Once we get everyone together I'll go back to the plane, someone'll have food in their bags."

"Frank has M&Ms," Bob says. "I stole a handful when he was in the bathroom at the last connection."

"He'll kick your ass," Ray says, and then snaps shut his mouth, his gums and teeth instantly throbbing. He focuses on countless memories of Frank laughing while being chased by Bob. It's better that than remembering him lying so still, soaked through and in obvious pain.

Bob curls his fingers around Ray's wrist and squeezes; hard. "Don't think like that."

"You're turning into some kind of mind reader now?"

"You're not a hard read," Bob says, and they're slowing even further. Ray's thinking they're going to have to wrestle Gerard away because Mikey's almost to his knees, holding on through sheer will power alone. Thankfully, when they finally get around the cove they see Worm trudging toward them, obviously favoring one leg.

"Thank fuck." Worm's brow creases when he looks at Mikey and Gerard and he heads towards them, his arms outstretched. "Let me take him."

"I'm fine," Mikey says, and steps past Worm.

Worm keeps frowning as he glances between them all, keeping guard even now. "I followed your footprints and saw you'd found Brian, I carried Frank there."

"Good. It'll be a good place to stay," Ray says. He doesn't know much about making camps, a few trips under canvas no way a preparation for something like this, but they need to regroup somewhere, and the place where they found Brian seems better than most.

"I think Frank's broken his legs." Worm rubs the heel of his hand over his arm, next to a cut that runs from elbow to wrist.

"I saw that," Bob says and he's pulling ahead slightly, his hand against his side. "You know first-aid, right?"

Worm draws in a breath. "Basic stuff."

"That'll do." Bob runs his thumb over the strap of the first-aid kit. His knuckles are grazed and swollen, like they've been dragged along the ground.

Ray keeps the bottle of water clasped to his chest, his eyes feel dry, gritty each time he blinks and he shivers, realizing that the sun is lower in the sky. "We need blankets and shit, it's going to get cold."

"I'll go back to the plane soon," Bob says, already looking toward the place they left Brian. Ray follows his gaze and sees that Frank's sitting slumped against the trunk of a tree, his face a white blur as he looks their way.

"I told him to watch Brian," Worm says. "He was going to come with, otherwise."

"Fucking idiot," Bob mutters and hurries ahead. "You know he'll try to walk."

"Tell him if he does I'll...." Ray trails off, there's not a threat that's any worse that what they're suffering anyway. "Tell him we'll be there soon," he finishes weakly and exchanges a look with Worm, silently communicating so they're either side of Mikey and Gerard as they walk back to the trees. The pace is torturous and Mikey's mouth is a thin line, his arms shaking badly by the time they finally reach the others. As soon as they get close Mikey drops to his knees and carefully lies Gerard on the sand and soft moss, ignoring everyone as he straightens Gerard's arms and legs and pushes his hair out of his face.

Finally giving in to his own exhaustion, Ray lowers himself down next to Frank, breathing hard through his gritted teeth.

"You okay?" Frank touches Ray's knee, looking concerned and Ray wants to laugh because none of this is okay, and the fact that Frank's even asking when he's propped up and ghostly white is ridiculous.

"I'll survive," Ray says and sees how Frank's ankles are swollen and bruised, his clothes damp, the fabric clinging and filthy.

Frank looks past Ray toward Gerard and Mikey. "Is Gerard okay?"

"He's sleeping," Mikey says, and keep stroking his fingers through Gerard's hair. "He'll wake up soon."

Frank shifts his gaze from Gerard to Mikey, making no attempt to hide how he's examining him from head to toe. "Are you okay?"

Mikey shrugs one shoulder, says, "I'm fine."

"You look like you've washed your face in blood, you're not fucking fine," Bob says, and drops the first-aid kit to the ground before lowering himself down until he's sitting between Frank and Brian. Once he's settled he opens the bag, exposing the neatly arranged contents -- bandages and band aids, sterile dressing packs and antiseptic -- a tiny fraction of the medical help that they actually need. Ray doesn't even know how they'll begin to assess injuries, but Bob and Worm are looking through the supplies, putting aside a selection that they set on the sand.

"Frank, we need to immobilize your legs," Bob says matter of fact, like he's done this thousands of times before. "I'll look for something to use on the way to get blankets. Mikey, what about Gee, is anything broken?"

Mikey takes hold of Gerard's hand. "Not that I saw."

Bob looks up from where he's sorting through a small selection of dressings. "What about you? And no bullshit about being fine."

"Nothing broken," Mikey says, and finally looks away from Gerard. "The worst's my ear." He brings up his free hand, fingertips grazing a deep jagged gash and Bob leans in close, his eyes narrowed.

"You're lucky it wasn't ripped off."

"I have a spare," Mikey replies, and he touches his earlobe, making the cut widen and glisten wetly. "You need to check Gerard."

"Checking." Worm kneels next to Gerard and runs his hands over Gerard's arms and legs, examining bones and joints before gently feeling around Gerard's head, careful of the bruising that darkens one side of his face. Pulling back his hands, Worm rubs at his eyes and sits back on his heels, looking frustrated. "I can't feel anything obvious, but I'm not a doctor."

"It's okay..." Ray starts to say, but Worm cuts him off.

"It's not okay, it's my job to protect you."

Bob picks up a packet containing an antiseptic wipe and tears it open. "You're not psychic, you couldn't know we'd crash," then turns to the side so he's facing Brian. "I'm going to clean that cut, okay?"

Bob unfastens the top button of Brian's shirt, peeling back the material to expose the cut that runs over his collar bone. Delicately, Bob cleans away the dried blood and it has to hurt, but Brian never flinches, just sits and stares into the distance.

"I should make you do this yourself," Bob says, and his touch is sure, always gentle as he drops the blood-smeared wipe on the packaging and rummages through the bag until he finds a small pair of scissors. He uses them to cut the sticky end off a dressing before carefully covering half of the cut. "Figures you'd check out when there's work to be done, lazy fucker." Bob picks up another dressing, snipping off the end so he can completely cover the cut. When he's done he briefly rests his hand on Brian's chest, his fingers over the dressing, so starkly white against Brian's bruised and blood-stained skin.

The first-aid kit in front of him, Worm counts the wipes and dressings, the crease in his brown deepening as he examines the small piles. There's not enough for what they need -- nowhere near.

"It's only for tonight," Bob says, fumbling as he fastens Brian's shirt buttons. "We can cover and clean the worst."

"We'll need stuff for Frank's legs and Mikey's ear," Worm says, then looks closely at Ray. "That's a nasty tear in your jeans."

Ray turns his head and looks down, seeing that his jeans gape open over his thigh, the material stiff with blood. Curling his fingers around the edge, he pulls at the tear and sees a jagged hole in his leg, the edges puckered and wet. Seeing it makes pain flair, and he feels nauseous, his head swimming as Worm gathers up a small handful of wipes, gauze and a roll of bandage.

"It's be easier if you take off your jeans," Worm says, and Ray hesitates a moment before unbuckling his belt. It takes a while to actually get his jeans undone, Ray's fingers feel clumsy and the buttons stubbornly refuse to go through the holes, but eventually he's pushing them down, wincing as the denim is pulled away from his leg. Jeans bunched around his ankles he lies on his side, head resting on his hand.

"This'll sting," Worm warns, and Ray pulls in a sharp breath when he feels the wipe against his leg, gasping at the sensation of it actually entering the cut.

"Paisley boxers, tasteful," Frank says, and Ray looks along the sand and sees that Frank's propped himself up on his elbow, smiling despite the beads of sweat on his forehead and the fact his whole face is leached of color.

"Fuck off," Ray says, his leg trembling as Worm continues to clean the wound. It feels like hours since he started and Ray's hands are clenched, sand sticking to his face as he tries to remember to breathe. Vision blurred, he watches as Bob counts out supplies, laying them close to his side, then beckons to Mikey.

"I need to look at your ear." Mikey doesn't move, and Bob sighs. "Gerard'll be pissed if he wakes up and your ear's rotted off."

"Fine," Mikey says finally, and lets go of Gerard's hand before crawling over to Bob. "But it takes a while for ears to rot off, a few days at least. You could probably leave it."

"Or I could ignore you and clean it anyway, before you skew our image with an one-eared bassist." Bob stretches out his legs, patting his lap. "Lie there."

Frank moves a little, biting back a gasp as he watches Mikey rest his head against Bob's legs. "Our fans would love the one ear thing, they're morbid bastards."

Bob begins to gently pull back Mikey's hair from the gash, pushing the blood-stiff clumps to one side. "Well I wouldn't, he'd only bitch about not being able to wear sunglasses."

"There's those kind with the elastic to keep them in place," Ray says, and can't help laughing at the look Mikey throws his way.

"I'd be a cold day in hell before I'd wear those." Turning his head slightly, he looks up at Bob. "I think I'd better keep the ear."

"Good choice," Bob says, and rips open a packet containing a wipe. "I'll go as fast as I can."

Watching Bob work is one of the worst things Ray's done, it's painful in a way that Worm cleaning his leg isn't, and Ray's head is throbbing in sympathy as Bob efficiently cleans the wound, Mikey closing his eyes and breathing hard, tears from his right eye mixing with the fresh blood. Ray wants to look away but it feels cowardly to do so, like he's abandoning Mikey in some way, and what makes it worse is he knows that it still isn't over. Even when Bob is smoothing on a dressing that covers Mikey's ear and down the side of his cheek, there's still Frank, who's remained propped up on his elbows, never looking away.

"Sorry," Bob says, his voice low as he uses the edge of his t-shirt to wipe Mikey's face.

"Not your fault." Shakily, Mikey sits and when Frank jerks his chin moves to lie at his side, tucking the uninjured side of his face against Frank's shoulder. They lie close and Ray tries to remain still as Worm finishes fastening the bandage around his thigh.

"Done." Worm straightens and Ray takes a moment to lie still. Relishing the heat of the sand against his body. It's a welcome contrast against the breeze which is rapidly cooling, reminding Ray that they need to get blankets and supplies before they lose the light of the day.

Slowly, Ray sits, his hands planted against the ground for support and his jeans crumpled around his ankles. "We'll have to make camp soon, get blankets and shit, maybe a fire."

Hand shading his eyes, Bob looks toward the shore, where the sun is deep red, turning the ocean into an expanse of flames. "I'd say we've an hour before full dark, we need to go back to the plane."

"I need someone to help with Frank," Worm says and Ray's torn between staying and wanting to be far away, gathering the things that they need but mostly, away when they splint Frank's legs. Which makes Ray feel ashamed, that he's seeking excuses so he doesn't have to see.

"I can stay," Ray says, but Mikey shakes his head and sits, his fingers curled around Frank's arm.

"I'll stay." Mikey sounds sure, his gaze never faltering as they all look his way. "I can help Worm and watch Brian and Gee."

"Works for me," Bob says and stands, leaning against a tree as Ray pulls up his jeans and fastens his belt. "We'll be as fast as we can."

Worm stands too and heads toward the trees, standing on the border between beach and forest as he peers into the shadows. Ray thinks they should explore in the direction eventually, but for now all he wants to do is get back to the plane, where he knows there's things to keep them warm.

"I'm going to look for branches, for a fire and stuff," Worm says, and twigs crack under his feet as he walks away. Mikey watches him go, then inches himself forward so he's sitting within reach of Frank, Gerard and Brian.

"You should go," Mikey says, and stretches out his leg so his bare toes are brushing against Gerard's arm. "We'll be fine."

"We will," Frank agrees, and he lies back against the tree and wipes his forearm across his face. "Mikey's going to tell me stories."

"I am?" Mikey says, one eyebrow raised.

"You are." Frank nods, looking perfectly serious. "I'm all hurt and injured and shit so it's your job to distract me. You can start with why you have a nurse's uniform in your closet."

"Why've you been in my closet?" Mikey asks, fixing Frank with a look.

Frank waves his hand dismissively and moans, long and drawn out. "Hurt and shit, remember."

"Oh my god, okay," Mikey says, and looks at Gerard before turning back to Frank. "Alicia bought it, she likes...."

"Come on." Bob grabs hold of Ray's arm and tugs, making Ray stumble. "They'll be talking details soon."

Ray would say he wants to hear the details, but Bob's expression is set, his hands trembling slightly before he curls them up tight. Concerned, Ray follows, leaving Mikey and Frank to their story. "You never said if you were hurt."

"I'm not," Bob says shortly. It's the only time he speaks as they follow their own footprints back to the plane.

Bone weary, Ray looks down as he walks, over the blood splattered sand and small shells, scraps of paper and as they approach the curve to the cove, an iPod, the wires snarled, one earbud missing completely. Hissing out a breath, Ray picks it up and pushes it into his pocket.

"It's fucked up inside the plane." Bob wipes sweat off his forehead and looks over at Ray. "I saw some of the carry on bags, but we should try and find the luggage. It'll be near the back."

"Tina kept stuff at the back too," Ray says, remembering how she disappeared behind a curtain before handing Bob his pillow. "We need to check the cockpit. The radio could be working."

"It's worth a try, if we can get...." Abruptly, Bob stops talking and presses his hand over his mouth, swallowing hard. When he sways Ray reaches out, curling his fingers around Bob's arm, his skin feels clammy and cold.

"You okay?"

Bob nods and drops his hand. "I'm fine."

Ray isn't so sure, but Bob pulls free and starts walking away, wiping his palm against his side. "If we get the radio working we'll send a message."

"We'll send two," Ray says, hell, he'll send one hundred and two if it means getting rescued and real medical help for his friends. "A message and then find food, water and shit to keep us warm."

"We need a lighter or matches," Bob scowls. "I should have packed one in my carry on."

"I guess that means I should have packed a first-aid kit, water, drinks and emergency blankets in mine."

"As long as you remember for next time," Bob says, and then says quietly as they round the corner. "There better not be a next time."

Nothing's changed since they left, there's no reason it should have, but Ray's stomach still plummets when he sees the plane with its ripped off side, the nose buried in the ground. Averting his gaze from the pilot he focuses on the interior, taking in the jagged edges of metal and the oxygen masks that lie still on the end of their tubes.

"We can get in there." Bob's indicating a space toward the back of the plane where there's a gap, the row of seats missing. "Be careful when you get in, it's not balanced well."

"I will," Ray says and follows Bob as he approaches the plane. Up close the damage is shocking in its brutality, metal sheared through and glass shattered, and everywhere Ray looks there's blood, on the floor and backs of the seats, smears on the white exterior, like someone was clinging on before being flung away. Actually climbing inside is one of the worst things Ray has ever done, but he braces his shoed foot on the wing and carefully clambers inside. When he does so metal groans, and Ray reaches out, gripping onto the back of a chair, his whole body shaking.

"Take it steady." Bob's climbed up too, and Ray's glad he's not offering to take over or telling Ray to go back outside, because Ray wouldn't, he couldn't, no matter how much he's afraid. Taking a deep breath, he heads for the cockpit, the plane shaking with each step.

"Oh Jesus fuck." Acid spills into Ray's mouth when he gets into the cockpit and sees that the whole of the front window is shattered, one side of the glass blood-stained and something wet hanging from one of the glass shards. Head swimming Ray looks away before he has to see if it's fabric or skin.

"Does the radio look intact?" Bob's standing in the doorway, looking around the instruments, his gaze settling on a headset that's lying against the window. Ray reaches out and picks it up.

"I suppose I should...." Reluctantly he puts on the headset, relieved that the microphone seems intact. Now all he has to do is find the controls to actually send a message, which feels like an impossible task because even if Ray does know radios he doesn't know planes. He holds his hand over a bank of controls, most of them smashed, their display dead. "I've no idea what I'm doing."

"You're doing fine." Bob steps forward and rests his hand on Ray's shoulder. "Find anything that looks like it belongs to a radio."

Ray looks again, at each instrument and control, and finally sees something that could fit. Hand against his chest, he crouches down and presses a button, making static sound in his ears. "I think that's it, but all I'm hearing is static."

"Try anyway," Bob says.

Ray tries to remember distress calls, the things he's heard in movies or read in books, but those words won't come, all he can say are his own. "Hello. Hi. I don't know if anyone can hear this. I hope so. We need help. Please. I'm Ray Toro, from the band My Chemical Romance. We were traveling to a concert and our plane went down, I don't know where. Somewhere. I don't know. Just. We need help. The pilot and Tina, the stewardess, are dead and we have injured people, a lot of them. My friends need help. If you can hear this, reply, please. We need help. Please."

Bob squeezes Ray's shoulder. "That's good."

It doesn't feel good to Ray, it feels like he's giving a big pile of nothing over a radio that may not even work, but he has to hold onto a chance that it did. Slipping off the headset he sets it on the seat. "We should get those things and get back."

A last squeeze and Bob turns, heading for the back of the plane. On the way he picks up anything that's easily accessible, throwing them outside, and Ray does the same. Gerard's bag, the pillow Bob was using, one of Mikey's shoes. There's more trapped in the wreckage, Ray can see his own bag jammed under a buckled seat, but it's pointless trying to ease it free, not yet anyway. If they're still here tomorrow Ray will try then -- and desperately hopes that that tomorrow never comes.

"Tina's stuff." Bob's pulling back a curtain, showing an alcove with shelves and a small counter. All the shelves are empty, the contents strewn on the floor, blankets and bottles of water and jammed against the wall, a pink purse, a key chain of Tigger hanging from the ring on the side. Acting on a hunch, Ray picks it up and looks inside. It feels like he's invading her privacy and he says a mental sorry, but it's worth it when he finds the box of painkillers almost hidden at the bottom. They're generic brand and not very strong, but he'll take anything right now. Ray shoves them in his pocket then closes the purse, putting it back in place.

"This is the last I can reach. Bob's throwing a wadded up blanket outside, where it flutters down to join the others. There's small pile out there now, bags, blankets and bottles of water, everything they could easily grab.

"We'd better start back," Ray says, all too aware of how fast the sun is setting. It's causing shadows to creep across the sand and the trees are rustling, making Ray's neck prickle. "You think there's anything out there?"

Bob looks over his shoulder at Ray. "What, like a polar bear?"

"Fuck off," Ray says, his mouth twitching into a slight smile. "There's no Dharma Initiative here, at least I hope not."

"There could be." Bob clambers down to the ground and Ray makes a grab for the back of a seat when the plane shifts abruptly, tipping further to the side. "There could be a resort on the other side of the trees and we wouldn't know about it."

Ray eases himself down and opens one of the blankets, piling bottles of water and pillow on top. "You're not going exploring tonight."

"Never said I was," Bob says, and puts bags over his shoulders, the straps criss-crossing over his chest.

"No," Ray agrees. "But you were thinking it."

Bob doesn't deny it, just puts pillows inside a blanket before bundling it up and throwing it over his shoulder. "We could be sitting like idiots while there's help close by."

Ray picks up his own bundle, breathing hard until the burn in his chest subsides. "If there was help close by they'd have been here by now. You can't go exploring forests in the dark."

Hands tight around the blanket, Bob looks along the length of trees, where the body of the pilot is already lost to the dark. "I'll go at first light tomorrow."

Which is a compromise Ray's willing to accept. He begins to walk, says, "I'll go with you."

~~~

It seems to take even longer to get back to the others. It's a combination of sheer exhaustion, constant pain, and the cold that makes Ray shiver, his feet dragging as they approach the make-shift camp. As they get closer he's surprised to see a glow, and then, when he gets closer still, a small fire. It's been built on the sand, a tower of palm tree bark lying in an ordered heap and sparks burn bright orange against the black sky. Sitting to the side Worm's face is colored red as he feeds more bark into flames that leap up and crackle.

Ray moves in close, drawn by the heat. "Did you find a flint?"

"Not exactly," Worm says. "Gerard had a lighter in his pocket."

"I told him we needed marshmallows but the tight bastard says he doesn't have any," Frank announces with a frown. He's been moved closer to the fire and is lying stretched out, folded palm leaves and Worm's ripped up shirt made into crude splints on each ankle and he's resting his head on Mikey's lap.

Worm pokes at the fire with a rolled up piece of bark. "You don't even eat marshmallows."

"Semantics," Frank says, and under his complaints it's easy to see how pale he is, the skin under his eyes dark and bruised, his whole body tight. "If you have a camp fire you need to have marshmallows."

"If I give you M&Ms will you shut up?" Kneeling, Bob takes off the bags and puts one next to Frank. "They should still be in there."

"You found my bag." Frank reaches for it and instantly screws shut his eyes. "Mikey, can you...."

"I'll get them." Careful not to jostle Frank, Mikey reaches out and opens the bag. After looking inside he pulls out a giant bag of M&Ms, and also a box of Tylenol, one of the stash of medication Frank always carries around. "You should take these."

"I'll take the whole fucking box," Frank says. He turns his head to the side, looking across Mikey's lap toward Brian and Gerard. "Give me two, keep the rest for everyone else."

"I've got some too," Ray says, pulling the box of painkillers out of his pocket.

"I've got a fuck load if we find my bag." Knee walking over the sand, Bob sits and waves his hand in front of Brian's face. "You still pretending to be checked out?"

"I thought he was coming around earlier," Worm says, looking into the flames as he pokes at the fire. "Then he went back to staring."

"Typical, you wait until I go, fucker." Bob pulls open the top of Brian's shirt, checking the dressing. "Anything to get out of doing any work."

Ray grabs hold of the bundle he was carrying, opening it to expose the blankets, pillows and water bottles inside. Taking a blanket he shakes it out and uses it to cover Frank from neck to knees, ensuring that he's protected from the cold as much as he can be. "That's a good sign, if he was becoming aware on his own."

"I think..." Frank trails off when Mikey eases him up slightly, holding an open bottle of water against his mouth so Frank can drink, washing down the painkillers. When he's done Mikey settles him back down and then cups his hand and pours in a little water, dripping it into Gerard's mouth.

"You think?" Ray prompts.

"I think he was reacting to me," Frank says. He's holding onto the blanket, his eyes sliding shut as he watches Mikey quietly coax Gerard to drink. "When they were splinting my legs, I was kind of loud."

Worm jabs a palm leaf into the heart of the fire and Mikey pulls in his shoulders, water spilling from his hand onto Gerard's face. Uncovering his arm, Frank reaches up and rests his hand against Mikey's cheek, pushing gently until he turns and looks at Frank who says, "It had to be done."

"I hurt you," Mikey says blankly. Frank pinches Mikey's cheek; hard.

"Don't pull that distant crap with me." The blanket crumples around his waist as Frank sits, his arm trembling as he props himself upright. "If I can walk after this it'll be due to you and Worm, so get some of those M&Ms, a blanket and lie between me and Gee, you're so fucking skinny you'll probably freeze otherwise."

For a long moment Mikey and Frank stare at one another, and then minutely, Mikey relaxes, and Ray knows Frank's won this time. Picking up two blankets he throws them to Frank, who holds onto them as Mikey pulls Gerard even closer, so they're all lying close together in a row.

"You forgot something," Frank says, when Mikey covers Gerard and starts to lie down. Sighing, Mikey leans forward and takes a small amount of M&Ms, holding them in his hand.

"Okay for you?"

"Fine," Frank says, and lies back down and pulls the cover up to his chin, occasionally opening his mouth as they share the candy.

"They've got the right idea." Worm adds more bark to the fire, and the air is full of the sound of crackling and the scent of smoke. "I'll watch the fire tonight, you all should get some sleep."

"We all need to get sleep," Ray says. He looks at his watch, noting the time. They should be at the hotel now, checking in after almost a day of travelling, instead they're stuck here. Ray's rubs at his chest and tries to swallow past the lump in his throat. "You included."

Worm shakes his head. "Watching you all is what I do."

"Not here it's not, we'll take turns," Bob says, gathering blankets and pillows which he sets to one side of Gerard. He gives the last blanket to Worm who drapes it over his shoulders like a cape. "Ray, you lie next to Gee, Brian can sleep between you and me. You hear that?" Throwing a pillow behind Brian, Bob urges him down, patiently directing each movement until Brian is lying on his side, his knees tucked up and hands against his chest. "Jesus." Bob turns away and rubs his hand across his face. "That's not fucking right."

"Just until tomorrow," Ray says, reminding both Bob and himself that rescue has to come soon. "Have you taken some painkillers?"

"Yeah." Bob lies next to Brian, one arm against his back and curled up as small as he can get under the thin airline blanket.

Hand under his cheek, Ray tries to sleep.

~~~~

"Gee? Gerard."

Ray doesn't want to wake. After what feels like hours he finally feels warm and the painkillers have reduced each hurt to sharp background aches. The last thing he wants to do is move but Mikey's sitting up, a dark shape against the glow of the fire as he looks down at Gerard.

"What's wrong?" Ray says, keeping his voice low.

"He was moving, I thought, I thought he was waking up." Mikey's voice is hoarse and his hand is against Gerard's chest. "His eyes were open. They were."

Ray isn't so sure. He's lying pressed close to Gerard and hasn't felt him moving, but that doesn't mean he hasn't, and he sits up slightly, propped up on one elbow. "Gerard?" Gerard's eyes are still closed and even in the darkness the bruising on his face is plain to see. Ray looks at Mikey. "Maybe you were dreaming?"

Mikey shakes his head. "I saw it, he moved. See!"

Ray looks, and sees that Gerard's eyes are half open. He blinks, his gaze unfocused and Mikey's leaning over him, looking at his face.

"M'ky. M going to be sick."

There's no time to move before Gerard's throwing up, protesting weakly as Mikey turns him on his side and holds him still.

"Done?" Mikey asks, and when Gerard nods he lies him back down and reaches for the empty M&M packet, using it to scrape the vomit from his hands and Gerard's chest. Ignoring his own nausea, Ray grabs a bottle of water and unscrews the top.

"Want a drink?" Gerard nods, and Ray helps him sit slightly, holding the bottle as he takes a sip. "Not too much, you'll get sick again."

Gerard drinks and then pulls back, lying heavy against Ray's arm. "We're not dead. I thought we were going to die."

"Me too," Ray admits, aware that people are waking, Bob rolling onto his side and Worm looking over from the other side of the fire. "But we didn't."

"I was scared." Gerard turns his head and his breath smells sour, something dark glistening at the corner of his mouth. Ray takes hold of the hem of his t-shirt and uses it to wipe Gerard's lips.

"We'll be rescued tomorrow, I know it," Ray says, trying to sound confident.

"Yeah," Gerard says, and presses his clenched fists against his eyes. "My head's fucking killing me."

"Take these." Mikey holds out his hand, two painkillers lying on his palm. It takes two tries before Gerard manages to pick them up, but when he does he swallows them dry and turns his head as he stares at Mikey. "Your face, how badly are you hurt?"

Mikey digs his hands through the moss and into the sand, shoveling away the parts soaked with vomit. "It's just my ear."

"You lost your ear?" Gerard asks, sounding horrified.

Mikey shrugs his shoulder and keeps on scooping his hands through the sand, filling the hole he's just made. "It's still attached. Frank broke his ankles."

"Oh god." Gerard tries to sit, but collapses back, breathing hard. "Is he...how's he doing?"

Ray looks over to Frank, who's lying flat on his back, his mouth open and the blanket pulled up to his chin. One of his hands has become uncovered and even in sleep his fingers are clenched. "He needs a hospital."

"What about Bob?" Gerard asks. "Brian and Worm? The pilot and Tina?"

Ray runs his thumb over the blanket as he decides how to reply, and Gerard's watching him, never looking away. "Worm's okay, Bob too. Brian's... shit, I don't know, he's not really with us right now. The pilot and Tina didn't make it."

"Fuck." Gerard's staring up at the canopy of trees overhead, unblinking, his unswollen eye wide. He's so still Ray wants to check his breathing, death a constant in the back of his mind.

"You're not a bad person," Mikey says suddenly. He's pulling at the moss so it's smooth and then takes Frank's hand, tucking it back under the blanket. When he's sure Frank's totally covered, Mikey lies down, fitting himself against Gerard. "You can mourn them while being glad it's not us."

Gerard turns his head slightly, enough so he can rest his unbruised cheek against Mikey's, their noses together as they talk, their words hushed. "We're no better than them."

"True. But we're all family, it changes things." Mikey sighs softly, pulling the blanket up higher. "If we had wings we could fly out of here."

"Feathered or bat kind?" Gerard asks.

For a long moment Mikey doesn't reply, and despite being unable to see details of his face Ray knows he'll be frowning slightly, his forehead creased. "Depends. Worm could have griffin wings."

"Right, right," Gerard says. "He could carry someone on his back, the ones that don't have wings."

"Riding a griffin would be awesome, even if it's not Worm." Mikey yawns, not bothering to cover his mouth. "I think they'd be hard to catch."

"You'd probably need magical rope, or a net," Gerard says, his eye slowly closing. "Rescue by griffin would be awesome."

Mikey yawns again, says, "Agreed."

The silence stretches and Ray realizes they've fallen asleep. Resisting the urge to touch -- they're sleeping, not dead -- he rubs at his eyes which feel gritty and swollen. What he should do is gather the blanket around him and try to sleep, but each time he tries his thoughts end up racing and he has to fight to lie still; aware of Gerard and Brian lying to either side. Eventually, he has to move, suppressing a groan at the resulting pull in his leg and chest. Blanket clasped in his hand, he circles the fire, to where Worm is feeding in another bundle of bark.

"Go get some sleep, I'll watch the fire now."

Worm agrees without protest. Standing slowly, he hands over the bark he's been holding. "If you see or hear something...."

"I'll wake you, promise," Ray says, and eases himself down to the ground. Bark in hand, he looks into the flames and begins his watch.

~*~*~*~

When the sun rises it does so slowly, red bleeding across the ocean, consuming the waves. It should be beautiful but all Ray can imagine is blood, spreading and pooling. He looks away, past the fire to where the others are sleeping. In the last few hours Mikey's flung out his arm, his hand on Frank's chest while Bob's got his head tucked up close to Brian's back. In the defused morning light their injuries are lessened, cuts and bruises made soft but as the sun rises they begin to stand out in stark relief. Frank's visibly swollen toes, the dressing on Mikey's face spotted with soaked through blood, the bruising on Gerard's face extending even further, the deep cut in Worm's arm and Bob's hands, grazed and painful to see. Only Brian looks undamaged, curled up with his head resting on his hand.

"You should have woken me," Bob says, his voice deep and rough with sleep, he moves away from Brian and looks at Ray through a tangle of hair. Impatiently pushing it back he sits, unable to suppress a groan. "I'm too old for this shit."

Ray throws dry bark onto the flames and it catches fire with a crackle. "I hear you, hopefully tonight we'll be in beds."

"Hopefully," Bob says, and Ray doesn't call him on the way he sounds, he doesn't want to talk about the odds of rescue and how long it could actually take -- not yet.

Sitting with the blanket pooled on his lap, Bob rests his head on his hands. "I could really do with coffee and a shit load of painkillers right now."

"We've got the second," Ray says, looking toward the first-aid kit. "Take some of those."

Bob shakes his head. "I'll cope, other people need them more."

Ray doesn't press the issue, he knows Bob will only say no. Arm against his chest, he listens to the waves wash up on the shore, tying to get caught up in the rhythm, using it as a distraction against the way his leg throbs and each breath hurts.

"I really need to piss, like right fucking now." Frank wakes abruptly, agitated and looking panicked as he attempts to move. When he does so he gasps and falls back, his eyes screwed shut. "Fuck, fuck, fuck."

"Settle down, idiot." Bob grabs the empty water bottle that's next to Gerard's head and moves close to Frank. "Use that."

Frank takes the bottle without a word. It's not like pissing in a bottle is anything new, they've all done it at one time or another and the sound of liquid hitting plastic prompts memories of long journeys, the kind where you're crammed together in van and traveling throughout the night.

"Done," Frank says, screwing on the lid. He hands the bottle to Bob and then lies back, the blanket pushed down his body, a visual exercise in someone pushing back discomfort. "Remember when I threw the bottle and it hit that car?"

"You were always throwing bottles of piss," Bob says, and he puts the bottle out of sight behind a nearby tree.

"Whatever," Frank says, because it's true, he always was throwing the full bottles out of the window of the van. "I meant that time with the jag, remember, the piss was so fucking concentrated it looked like coffee when it hit."

Ray does remember that time, and how the driver followed them for miles, headlights flashing as Frank and Gerard hung out the side windows, laughing as they yelled insults.

"You're lucky they didn't catch us," Ray says, and when he starts to smile he can feel the cuts on his lips peel open. Licking at the blood, his tongue snags on one of his broken teeth and he tries to discretely spit out blood and drool.

"Did someone mention coffee?" Gerard asks, blearily looking around.

"You're awake!" Frank pushes himself upright and reaches for Gerard, grabbing hold of his shirt and pulling so he sprawls against Mikey. "When did you wake up? No one told me."

Bob sits back down next to Brian, one hand on his back. "He woke up last night, and no one told you because you were asleep."

"You should have woken me." Frank frowns and keeps holding on. "Are you okay? You didn't wake up. I thought you were in a fucking coma."

"No coma," Gerard says, and kneels so he can reach across Mikey for a lingering hug. "I'm fine."

Frank looks at Gerard's face. "You don't look fine."

"You don't look particularly healthy yourself," Gerard replies.

"Hello." Mikey's arm and hand appears from under Gerard. "I'm suffocating down here."

"Shit, sorry." Gerard pulls back, looking worried as he examines Mikey. "Is your ear still attached?"

Mikey gingerly pokes at his ear. "I think so."

"Good. Mom would kill me if I took you back with a missing ear," Gerard says, and sits up and pushes his hand through his hair, making it stick up even more.

"Is Brian awake, too?" Frank tries to see past Mikey and Gerard, looking frustrated when he can only look so far. "Someone help me sit up."

"You sure?" Bob asks, already standing and moving to Frank's right side.

"Positive." Frank lifts his arms slightly and Mikey and Bob take a secure hold.

"On a count of three," Bob says. "One. Two. Three."

Together they lift and despite how hard he tries Frank's unable to stop yelling out in pain as he's moved the short distance so he's propped against the trunk of the tree.

"Sorry, sorry, sorry," Mikey says, staying close and Frank clings to him, his hands white where they're pressed against Mikey's back.

Rummaging in the first-aid kit, Ray pushes out four pain-killers, says to Frank, "Open your mouth." He does, and Ray gives him the pills and a drink of water, then looks away, giving Frank the time to regain control.

"We need to get out of here." Agitated, Bob takes a step toward the ocean. "I'm going back to the plane, see if I can send another message."

Ray reaches out, grabbing hold of Bob's shirt. "Not yet you're not.” Despite the way Bob glares, Ray keeps hold, never looking away. "You need to sit and drink some water and we'll plan what we're going to do." Bob still looks defiant, and Ray's got no choice but to play dirty. "What if Brian comes around when you're gone?"

"That's low," Bob says, but at least he's stopped trying to pull away. "I can't just sit and do nothing."

"I know." And Ray does know, that no matter what it takes, Bob will try and save them all. "But sit a while, you need to drink."

"Fine," Bob says with ill grace, and sprawls down next to Brian.

Gerard bites at his thumb nail as he looks around, at the fire that's dying down, the first-aid kit and bottles of water lying next to Brian's carry on bag. "Fill me in, what did you bring back last night?"

"We got the blankets and pillows." Ray indicated the blankets, most of which are strewn on the ground now. "Bottles of water and Frank and Brian's carry on bags."

"And the first-aid kit," Bob continues.

"What's in the bags?" Gerard asks.

"The usual shit in mine, hand me my bag, Mikey." Tipping out the contents on his lap, Frank sorts through them. "Magazines, ear plugs, spare watch, guitar picks, moisturizer, stuff for when I get the shits, antibacterial hand wash, lip balm, comb, mirror, eyeliner, Mikey's I think, hair tie, Ray's, a dog chew and a few M&Ms. Looks like my book and iPod are gone."

"I found that." Ray gingerly sits to the side and pulls Frank's iPod out of his jeans pocket. "It was on the beach."

"Awesome." Frank looks at the display, thumbing at the dial. "It's still works."

Gerard indicates Brian's bag. "What's in Brian's?"

"We haven't checked," Ray says, it doesn't feel right to check when Brian still hasn't come round, just lies on the sand, the blanket over him and his eyes wide.

"Someone needs to look." Gerard curls his hand over Brian's shoulder. "Bob can look through it, Brian won't mind."

"What if I mind?" Bob says, and unzips the bag. Taking out the contents he sets them on the sand. A cell phone and PDA, a black striped diary held shut with a rubber band, multiple pens and notebooks, a rubber stressball and a small wash bag and at the very bottom, a large bag of Twizzlers. "I knew he was hiding those." Keeping out the Twizzlers, Bob puts everything else back into the bag and then opens the plastic candy bag close to Brian's ear. "Hear that you fucking Twizzler scrooge, I'm eating your Twizzlers. All of them."

Brian doesn't react at all.

"Give him time," Ray says and reaches for a bottle of water. "Twizzlers and water, a breakfast of kings."

"I'd rather have pancakes," Frank says glumly. "With syrup and fake bacon on the side."

Mikey takes the Twizzlers that Bob hands his way, giving one to Frank. "I want coffee, lots of it."

"Me too," Gerard says, holding a Twizzler limply in his hand.

"Sausage, bacon and eggs for me," Worm puts in, and Ray thinks of what he wants to eat, his stomach growling as he pictures scrambled eggs and bagels. A Twizzler doesn't cut it, especially when he finds it so hard to chew.

Bob takes a sip of water and then hands the bottle to Worm. "We need to split up after breakfast. Go back to the plane and try the radio again, and we need to build a shelter... just in case."

"Makes sense." Gerard chews slowly on one side of his mouth. "Mikey can stay here with Brian and Frank."

"What? No," Mikey protests, pointing his Twizzler at Gerard. "I can walk."

"I know you can," Gerard says, his expression stern. "But I want you to stay here."

But..."

Gerard cuts Mikey off. "You're staying here. That's final."

Mikey doesn't protest again, just glares at Gerard, who doesn't flinch under the relentless stare.

"Painkillers." Breaking the awkward silence, Bob takes hold of one of the boxes and throws them so they land next to Frank. "Take some, I'm going back to the plane."

"I'm coming with you," Gerard says, and slowly stands. When he's upright he rests his hand against the side of Mikey's face and after a brief pause, Mikey relaxes, leaning into the touch.

"Be careful, both of you, and stay out of the sun or you'll get boiled to a crisp." Gerard nods, but before he walks away, Mikey says. "When you get there. If you find my bag. My meds."

"I'll bring them back," Gerard promises, and Ray's stomach is like lead, all too aware of the cocktail of medication Mikey needs to get through the day. It's yet another worry on top of the ones he's already carrying, and he needs to get away and start moving, anything but sit here and give in to his barely controlled fear.

Ray points at the trees behind them. "I'm going to explore that way, gather some more bark."

Worm starts to stand. "I'm coming with you."

"You'll need two shoes if you're going exploring." Bob crouches down and starts to undo his sneakers. "Wear these."

Ray shakes his head, unwilling to even think about taking Bob's shoes. "You need those. You'll be climbing inside the plane."

"I'll be walking on sand first," Bob says, and kicks off his sneakers. "And we found Mikey's shoe, remember? I'll wear that and yours. I'll be fine."

"I can't..."

"You can," Bob cuts in, and kicks his shoes over to Ray. "You don't want to step on a snake and get bitten."

Ray toes off his shoe and pulls on one of Bob's. It's warm inside and Ray curls his toes against the damp sole. "Snakes, wonderful."

"Don't step on them and you'll be fine." Bob picks up Ray's sneaker, swinging it by the lace and the bright morning sun turns his hair brilliant gold. "If you meet a polar bear..."

"I'll run like fuck," Ray says, and tugs at the grimy white laces, tying them in a double knot. Standing, he waves a goodbye to Mikey and Frank and walks to the trees, Worm at his side, and steps from bright sun onto cool dimmed light. The ground feels spongy under Ray's feet as they walk and he shades his eyes and looks up at the coconuts and large leaves, mentally working out how to construct a shelter. Seeing one of the giant palm leaves lying on the ground he picks it up, fingers against the smooth surface as he imagines tying leaves together, a barrier against the sun and if it ever happens; rain.

Worm pulls a handful of bark off one of the palm trees, tearing at it until he's holding a strip in his hands. "You think we'll be here long enough to need a shelter?"

"I hope not," Ray says, and walks further away from the camp, until when he looks back he can't see the ocean at all. The further in they go the quieter it becomes and Ray gathers fallen leaves, holding them in his arms. They're slightly damp from being on the ground and the edges scrape against his skin, a back and forth brush as they walk.

"I keep hoping we'll find a mansion, hell, even a shack would do, something to show we're not alone." Worm says. His white undershirt is filthy, stained with blood and dirt "I thought I was trained for anything, but this. This is something else."

Ray kicks at a pile of rotted vegetation with his foot. "I doubt anyone trains to crash on a deserted island," he frowns, trying to remember something he'd read online. "I read this thing once. Ten things to do if you were stuck on an island."

"I'm guessing one of those points wasn't to do with serious injuries," Worm says.

Ray clasps the leaves tighter. "No, but it did say to eat coconuts, it's just a case of reaching them."

As one they look up at the coconuts, bunches of them high above their heads. Worm presses his hand against the trunk of the tree, pushing hard. "I could try and climb up, but," he indicates his body with his hand.

"I could give it a try." Ray eyes the length of trunk. He's never been one to climb trees but he's willing to give it a try. Setting down the leaves he takes steps back and then runs forward, jumping at the trunk. He doesn't get far, the rough surface scraping against his hands as he clings on, only a few feet above ground. Ray's got no idea how he's going to get higher, already his ribs and thigh are so painful all he can do is hold on and breathe.

"I don't think that's going to work," Worm says, standing close to Ray. "If you let go I'll try hitting them with a branch."

Ray loosens his hold, sliding to the ground. "Palm trees don't have branches."

"Fuck," Worm mutters, his forehead creased as he glares up at the coconuts. "We can keep looking. Some have to have fallen to the ground."

Ray picks up his bundle of leaves, says, "Sounds like a plan."

~~~~~

They head back to camp, where they find Frank sleeping, lying heavily against Mikey's side.

"He been out long?" Ray asks, and sets two coconuts and the pile of leaves on the ground. "Do you know how hard it is to collect coconuts?"

"About an hour, and no," Mikey says. "Did you climb and get them?"

Ray holds out his hands, showing his scraped palms. "I tried, but we found these ones. They sound fresh."

Mikey shifts a little, making sure that he doesn't disturb Frank. "I'll take your word for it," he hesitates and then says, "I'm worried about Frank, he feels hot. I think he's getting sick."

There's nothing Ray can say, it was inevitable wounds would get infected, and he knows it's more than likely Frank's just the first, and there's not a thing he can do to help. He pinches the bridge of his nose, looking out at the sea. "Rescue should be coming soon."

Mikey rests his head against Frank's, says quietly, "I hope they hurry up."

"Yeah," Ray says, and sits next to Brian. "Has he said anything?"

"He seemed more aware earlier, like he was listening to us talk."

It's good news, not much, but Ray's grateful for anything just now. Tilting his hips so his hurt thigh is off the sand he looks at Brian. "It's about time you started coming back to us, Bob's about out of his mind."

Brian blinks, looks at Ray with wide eyes. "Bob?"

"He's gone to the plane, we crashed, remember?" Ray says, deeply relieved that Brian's said anything at all. The brief moment of awareness doesn't last long, and Brian reverts to staring blankly into the distance. Ray itches at his scalp, his fingers snagging on the tangles in his hair. "Bob's going to be pissed you talked when he was gone."

Mikey stretches his leg, bare toes against the leaves Ray dropped to the ground. "Are you going to make clothes?"

Ray raises his eyebrows, images of them all dressed in leaf skirts dancing through his mind, which surely has to be a sign of how tired he actually is. "I was thinking more along the lines of a shelter."

Mikey runs his fingernail over a spot of dried blood on his neck and if flakes off, falling onto his shoulder. "That’s too bad, I'd pay to see Gee in a leaf skirt."

Frank opens one eye. "Me too," he winces, his mouth a tight line. "Is he wearing one?"

"No, Ray's making a shelter," Mikey says, sounding disappointed. He looks at the pile of leaves. "Are you going to tie them together?"

Ray hasn't really considered the practicalities of the shelter, just that he's going to build one. He picks up a leaf, running his fingers down the spine. "I think so. Worm's seat's still on the beach. We can drag it here and use it as a wall."

"I'll bring it over," Worm adds, turning to leave.

"Not yet." Ray lifts his sweat-damp hair off his neck. "The sun's too high, we can go later, after lunch."

Worm lowers himself down. "Twizzlers and water?"

Ray picks up the bag of candy and quickly counts how many are left. "Half a Twizzler, some coconut, too. That's if I can get them open."

Frank closes his eyes. "I'm not that hungry."

"You're still eating," Mikey says. He looks at his watch and then holds his hand above his eyes, looking toward the beach. "They should have been back now."

It's a worry Ray shares, but he tries to deflect Mikey's fears. "Not necessarily. They could be talking to someone on the radio."

Mikey lowers his hand, says, "God, I hope so." Ray couldn't agree more.

~~~~

"If they don't come back soon I'm going to get them," says Worm, standing next to the remains of the fire.

"I'll come with you," Mikey says. He's been on the verge of outright panic for almost an hour now, and Ray knows if Gerard and Bob don't come back soon there's no way Mikey will wait any longer. Ray doesn't blame him, he's close to looking for them himself.

Ray looks at his watch -- again. "Ten minutes and then we'll..." Ray stops talking, his head tilted to the side. "Can you hear that?" Sure he can hear something Ray goes onto the main beach and looks toward the direction of the plane, relieved when he sees Gerard and Bob. They're both carrying bags and dragging cases, long lines behind them showing the trails where case wheels have dug in the sand. Ray hurries over to meet them, trying to take the case off Bob while Worm takes the one from Gerard.

"I've got it," Bob says, and keeps trudging forward, his shoulders bowed and his shirt wet through.

"We kept looking until we found the shit we needed." Gerard flexes his fingers and crosses his arms across his chest. "We covered the pilot, too."

"What about the radio?" Ray asks.

"Gerard sent some messages," Bob says, limping badly in his miss-matched shoes. "I don't know if they went through."

Ray has to believe that they have, it's the only thing that's keeping him going. "We've been making a shelter, well, the roof of one anyway. Worm's got great palm leaf weaving skills."

"About fucking time," Mikey says as soon as they approach. He starts to gently lie Frank down but Gerard waves his hand and drops the bags he's carrying.

"Stay there." Going to his knees he gathers Mikey into a hug, careful of the woven palm leaves that are spread over Mikey and Frank's laps. "It took a while to find everything."

Mikey's got his face against Gerard's shoulder. "I was worried."

"Sorry." Gerard cups his hand around the back of Mikey's head, neither moving.

"Has he said anything?" Ray looks away from Mikey and Gerard and sees that Bob got his arm against his body as he stands looking down at Brian. He looks worried, the Bob type of worried where any emotion is hidden tightly away. Thankfully this time Ray has good news.

"He's spoken a few times, he keeps going in and out."

"Took you long enough, you lazy bastard." Bob sits, looking directly at Brian. "It's about time you woke up, you can help us build the shelter."

"Bob?" Brian slurs, squinting as if he's trying to bring Bob into focus. "I thought you went home?"

"I did, days ago," Bob says and he fists his hands into Brian's shirt. "Don't you ever fucking do that to me again. You hear me?" Releasing his hold, Bob grabs Brian in a fierce hug, holding on for a long moment before pulling back. "How are you feeling?"

"Like I got hit by a fucking.... what's it called? The thing with the round things."

Bob frowns and runs his hands through his hair, says quietly. "Like a truck."

Brian nods. "Yeah, like that." He yawns then, his eyes closing. "I'm tired."

"You should sleep then." Bob reaches behind him and grabs a pillow, setting it behind Brian. "Lie down."

"You're going to stay?" Brian lies down, looking up at Bob.

"I'll stay," Bob promises, and watches as Brian sleeps.

~~~~~

A chunk of coconut prised out of the shell isn't the best meal Ray's ever eaten, but he's grateful for it as drinks a mouthful of water and says, "I'm going to get the seats." He's still not exactly sure how they'll make the shelter but they've got a long expanse of woven palm leaves that should keep out the rain; hopefully at least.

Bob's standing looking out at the ocean, and when Ray speaks turns and says, "I'm coming, too."

Teeth gritted against the pain of stiff muscles, Ray stands and follows Bob toward the seats where they found Worm. It's only a short distance but it takes them a while to get there, both of them walking slowly, their energy low. Ray keeps his eyes half closed against the glare of the setting sun, feeling dizzy and light-headed, nerves and emotions raw.

"I'm going to try fishing tomorrow," Bob says, looking out to the ocean. His feet drag through the sand, grains trickling over the toes of his shoes. "We need more food. I'm thinking some kind of spear. I'll sharpen the end of Frank's comb and attach it to a stick. If I go to the shallows I can..."

"He'll be okay," Ray cuts in, and Bob stops talking, looking away.

"I know."

"We'll get rescued and he'll get checked out." Ray rests his hand on Bob's arm, careful of his sun-burnt skin. "He'll be fine."

"And what if he's not?" Bob pulls away from Bob, taking a step back. "What if his brain's swelling or he's having a fucking aneurysm?"

It's bringing fears out into the open, nothing Ray hasn't thought of himself, but hearing the actual words are a shock. He shivers, feeling cold. "You can't give up."

"I'm not!" Bob exclaims, then quieter. "I'm not. But that doesn't mean I don't see the possibilities. Frank in a wheelchair, Brian with brain damage. I can't stop thinking about it."

"Bob." Ray steps close, but Bob shies away, schooling his expression.

"Those seats won't carry themselves."

Allowing the distraction, Ray matches his steps to Bob's, and they walk in silence to the place where Ray found Worm. The seats are still lying on their side, but there's no sign of where Bob was lying, or where Frank was dragged from the surf. There's only the seats, crumpled on one side, the metal sharp. Grabbing the back of one of the chairs, Ray tugs, and discovers they're much heavier than he expected. "We need more help. I'll go back and get Worm."

Bob plants his feet in the sand and takes hold of a seat, pulling hard. "I can manage."

Ray's not so sure, especially when Bob tries to lift the seats and goes suddenly and worryingly pale, sweat breaking out on his brow. Staggering, Bob braces himself against the seat, but then his knees buckle and he falls to the ground, hunched over and shaking.

"Bob?" Ray drops down next to Bob, and Bob looks back at him, eyes wide and obviously afraid.

"Ray." Bob reaches out, grasping for Ray's arm, then his fingers loosen as he crumples and lies still. Frantic, his heart hammering, Ray touches Bob's back, feeling how his breathing is shallow.

"Bob? Bob!" Shaking Bob hard, Ray tries to get him to wake up, patting his face, praying desperately that Bob will open his eyes. He doesn't and Ray holds onto Bob's hand, needing to touch as he yells. "Gerard! Worm! Mikey! I need help! Now!"

~~~~~

Ray keeps replaying the moment. Again and again. Bob crumpling, lying so still. Carrying him back to the camp. Brian looking confused, holding onto Bob's hand and refusing to let go.

He thinks about what he could have done to stop this happening. How Bob was obviously hiding that something was wrong, and Ray should have known, because he knows Bob, but he didn't push, too afraid, too hurting to take on more worries and that makes him feel like the worst kind of coward. He shivers, cold despite the blanket and the hoodie he's pulled on.

"We can build a boat, a raft." Gerard's pacing, firelight turning his skin red and shadowed. "We build a boat and get out of here, rescue ourselves."

Ray rests his head in his hands, too tired to even look up. "This isn't the movies. You can't make a boat and sail into the sunset."

Gerard turns abruptly, his eyes gleaming as he stares at Ray. "Why not? We've got the natural material we need. Wood and fabric. We can do it, I know we can. It's better than sitting here doing nothing."

"No, no it's not," Ray yells, frustrated that Gerard can't see that it's not that easy. That the world isn't like comic books where anything can happen. "Do you know how to make a boat? One that'll actually sail on the ocean, because I don't. And what about Bob? Or Frank? What's going to happen to them on this boat? Do they get to be hauled around and bake in the sun?"

"We could do it," Gerard insists. "We can do anything."

"We can't, not that." Ray presses his fists against his eyes and the hopelessness is choking. "What we do is stay here and wait. It's all we can do."

"I don't think we have time to wait," Gerard says quietly, and Ray knows what he's not saying. That Bob collapsing like that was terrifying, and the possibility of things going drastically wrong is huge.

"Gee, come lie down with me." Mikey holds up a corner of the blanket he's lying under. He's shivering despite the layers of clothes he's wearing, his eyes dark sockets. "Please."

"I can't sleep," Gerard says, agitatedly running his hands through his hair.

Mikey lifts the blanket a little higher. "You don't have to. Just come lie down next to me. I'm cold."

Gerard walks the short distance, sinking to his knees and then curling around Mikey, holding him close. "I'll get us out of here, I promise."

"I know," Mikey says, his faith in Gerard never wavering.

The fire hisses, sparks exploding outwards when Ray throws on another handful of bark. He wishes he had that faith, but he doesn't, no matter how hard he tries.

~~~~~

It feels even hotter the next day, the sun blazing and heat makes the sand shimmer in sickening waves. Thirsty, Ray runs his tongue around his mouth, over sharp teeth and the raw patches of skin. His lips are cracked, but that pain doesn't register against the others, his chest that's constantly tight and his leg, the skin puffy and red. He should gather energy to move, walk back to the plane and try to radio for help yet again, but he's too tired right now, so bone weary that any movement is an effort.

Nearby Brian's still clutching Bob's hand, occasionally swaying in place but he refuses to let go. He's staging a vigil; they all are.

"I should have know better," Gerard says, he's sitting at the base of one of the trees, bent forward, his head in his hands and his hair falls forward in damp clumps. "It's Bob, he never tells us this shit."

Frank's face is stripped with shadows from where he's lying under the palm leaf shelter. Listlessly he reaches out, tugging at the hem of Gerard's pants. "What were you going to do, beat the truth out of him?"

"I could have tried," Gerard says, and if he had any energy Ray would laugh at the thought of Gerard squaring up to Bob.

Mikey's lying on his back, head on a bundled up hoodie and his bare toes curled into the sand. "He wouldn't have told you."

"But he should have told us," Gerard says. "We could have done something."

Ray shakes his head. "Like what? We're not doctors, we can't fix things."

"We could have made him take painkillers." Gerard looks up, his mouth pinched as he looks at Bob. "We let him suffer."

"You didn't let me do anything," Bob unexpectedly says, his voice rough as he peers through half open eyes at Gerard. "I didn't need any painkillers so didn't take any, it's that simple."

"It's not that fucking simple." Brian leans over Bob, scowling down at him. "You fucking... collapsed, scared us all half to death. You looked dead."

"But I'm not," Bob says, and Ray wants to shake him for sounding so dismissive.

Brian pulls his hand out of Bob's and clambers to his feet. For a moment he staggers then steadies himself, fisted hands tight against his side. "I'm going for a walk."

"I'll come with you," Worm says. It takes him while to get to his feet, and Brian's obviously impatient as he looks away from the camp. As soon as Worm's upright he takes off, never looking back.

"Did you get the seats?" Bob's face is set, his mouth a thin line as he starts to sit, then gasps, falling back. "Shit."

"Lie still." Ray rests his hands on Bob's chest, trying to conceal how hard they're shaking. "You need to lie there and rest, you're not Superman. I thought you'd died."

"I'm fine...."

Ray cuts him off before he can gloss over yet more truths. "Stop with the bullshit. You're not fine."

"So what do you want me to say?" Bob demands. "That I feel like shit? That a kitten could take me down right now? That I'm scared? Because I am, I'm fucking terrified."

Hearing Bob being so honest is painful, and Ray tries to breathe through the claws that are jabbing his chest. He wants to say he's sorry for pushing but already Bob's barriers are crashing back down as he takes the water Gerard hands him.

"Thanks." Bob takes a sip and sets the bottle to one side. "You started the shelter."

It's an obvious subject change but one Ray goes along with and he doesn't comment at all when Bob gasps as he pushes himself upright. "We need to find something bigger for the walls, the bags work for now but it's not very practical."

"We need to go back to the plane, there'll be stuff there," Bob says and for a moment Ray thinks he's about to get to his feet. He doesn't, just looks over to where Brian and Worm are walking along the shoreline. "I should work on the fishing spear."

Mikey sits, wrapping his arms around his bent knees as he looks at Bob. "You know how to spear fish?"

"No," Bob says with a shrug. "But I'll learn."

"We could learn together."

"Oh god, no," Gerard says. He sounds worried and Ray doesn't blame him, they've got enough injuries without Mikey putting a spear through his foot.

Mikey gives Gerard a look. "I could be awesome at fishing."

"We'll find out tomorrow," Bob puts in, then winces, his hand against his torso.

"Bob...."

Before Gerard can finish speaking Bob's talking over him, says sharply, "Don't."

Frank sits up slightly, his head brushing against the palm leaves as he looks over at Bob. "Take some painkillers at least you stubborn bastard."

Ray crawls over to the first-aid kit and takes out the box of pain killers. "You both should take some." Pushing out four tabs he hands them out and briefly considers taking some for himself, gaining some relief from the constant throbbing in his mouth, chest and thigh. He doesn't; aware that others need them more and they're down to so few. Ray can't help but worry as he counts the remaining tabs and puts away the box.

"We should have toasted coconut tonight," Gerard says suddenly and he reaches out for the remaining coconut, rolling it between his hands. "It might help."

Face against his knees, Mikey says, "It'll still taste like chewing cardboard."

"But it'll be warm cardboard," Gerard says, and Mikey makes a dismissive noise.

Which is when they hear Worm yell from the beach.

"There's a helicopter! Here! Here! We're down here!"

Adrenalin kicking in, Ray jumps to his feet and runs onto the beach, everyone but Frank following. Stumbling on the soft sand Ray looks up, at the cloudless sky and almost overhead, a large helicopter, someone dressed in a jumpsuit looking out of the open door. Knees threatening to buckle, Ray waves his arms and yells as loud as he can. "We're here! We're here! We need help. Please!"

The helicopter banks, turns, and begins to land.

Arm held up against his face, Ray shields his eyes from the sand that stings against his skin. He can hardly believe that they're about to be rescued, that they're going to be okay. It's almost too much to take in and he's grateful for the steadying touch when Gerard steps close, standing at Ray's side as the helicopter sets down with a soft thud. Immediately someone jumps out of the open side door, a large first-aid kit over their shoulder. Crouched over, they run forward and Ray sees it's a woman, her ponytail blowing in the wind caused by the blades.

"We've been looking for you all," she says."I'm Becky and Tony will be here in a moment." She looks around, and pushes a tendril of hair out of her face. "Are you all in this area?"

"Most. Yeah." Gerard looks over his shoulder where Mikey and Bob have gone back to Frank and are kneeling at his side, undoubtedly trying to stop him from moving. "The pilot, erm, and Tina, they didn't..."

"It's okay." Becky rests her hand on Gerard's arm, stopping him from talking. "We listened to your messages. There's seven of you, correct?"

"Yeah," Ray says, sheer relief making him feel weak as he points toward the camp. "Frank, Bob and Mikey are over there. We think Frank's broken his ankles."

"Then we'll go over there." Waving, she attracts Tony's attention, pointing toward the trees before they start to walk back to camp. "Tony's contacting base, letting them know we've found you."

"We didn't know if the messages went through," Ray says, hating the way his voice wavers slightly. "We kept trying."

"It's good that you did," Becky says. "It would have taken us longer to find you, otherwise."

She sounds confident, like they would have always been rescued, but Ray still feels shaky. It's like he's floating, the world pulling away and Ray takes deliberate slow steps until they're at the camp and he can finally sink to the ground, out of the way but close enough to watch as Becky sets down her kit next to Frank.

"Hey, my name's Becky." She kneels, her touch gentle as she touches Frank's chest, urging him to lie still. "You need to settle down, let us work."

Frank takes in a deep breath and lies back, resting against the pile of clothes he's been using as a pillow. "Tell me you've got the good drugs."

Becky smiles, all efficiency as she starts to examine Frank. "I have. We'll get you patched up and to the hospital in no time."

Frank swallows, visibly tensing as she moves down his body toward his legs. "And everyone else. You need to check Bob, he collapsed earlier."

"We will," Becky says, and starts to carefully unwrap the torn shirt that holds the multiple folded palm leaves that are against Frank's legs. "Inventive."

"I don't stay still very well." Frank gasps, his hands clutching at the sand before Bob reaches out his hand. Immediately Frank takes hold and squeezes, his knuckles white. "That's all they had."

Becky sets aside the leaves, exposing how Frank's ankle is swollen and bruised. It makes Ray feel sick to see, especially in combination with the pained sounds Frank makes as Becky continues her examination. "We'll swap these for real splints once we've got some painkillers into you. You'll feel much more comfortable."

"Thank fuck," Frank says, screwing shut his eyes when she touches his ankle.

"Sorry," Becky murmurs and glances up when Tony strides into camp. "I'm going to put in a line."

Tony kneels, his first-aid kit at his side. He's blocking Frank from view and Ray tries to gather enough energy to move, but even that feels like too much. Ray rests his head in his hands and stares blankly forward, listening to Becky and Tony keep up a steady stream of reassurances as they administer painkillers via IV and efficiently swap the home made splints for ones that they strap around Frank's legs, keeping them immobile. All the time Ray's been unable to see Frank's face, but he can see Bob, how he never winces despite the fact Frank's desperately clenching at his hand.

Finally, Becky sits back on her heels and Tony stands. Ray sees that Frank's got his eyes closed and his mouth looks pinched, as if he's fighting to keep control.

"We need to get you back to the hospital," Becky says and looks over her shoulder, to where another man is hurrying across the sand. He's carrying a stretcher and when he gets close he sets it down next to Frank. Becky and Tony get to work, unfastening straps and getting ready to transfer Frank onto the stretcher. "Frank, this guy here is Mark, he maintains he's the best damn pilot in the land."

Mark grins, his eyes lighting up. "That's because it's true, baby. Best by far." His smile fades then, becoming smaller, his demeanour snapping from joking to serious. "The other 'copter is en route, ETA twenty minutes."

"Wait, you're not taking us all together?" Gerard asks, sounding dismayed.

"There's not enough room," Becky says, busy fastening the straps over Frank, making sure he's secure on the stretcher. "We'll be able to take two plus Frank." She glances up then, looking sympathetic. "The other crew is close and we need to get Frank to the ER."

"We'll be fine waiting," Bob says decisively, flexing his hand when Frank finally lets go. "Take him to get sorted out."

"And you," Ray adds, ignoring the look Bob sends his way. "Bob collapsed a few hours ago."

"Then you're riding with us." Becky holds up her hand when it looks like Bob's about to protest. "You need checking over, too."

Bob scowls and clambers to his feet. "So does everyone. I'll stay here and wait."

"You can protest all you like, you're coming," Becky says. She stands, looking closely at Bob. "Don't fight me on this. You won't win."

For a long moment Ray thinks Bob's going to keep protesting, is standing with his arms crossed as he watches Mark and Tony lift the stretcher. Frank's eyes are still closed and he looks small and defenceless as he's carried away. Bob lets his arms drop, says, "Fine, I'll go."

It doesn't take long to get back to the helicopter. No one makes an attempt to take any of the clothes that are strewn around camp, just walk as a group behind the stretcher, over jumbled footprints in the sand, already crumbling trails of the last two days.

Within minutes Frank is loaded into the helicopter, his eyes open wide as he's pushed inside. Despite knowing Frank's being taken for the medical care he needs Ray's throat is tight and he's glad when Mikey steps close, his expression blank as he leans against Ray.

"Bob, you can sit here." Tony appears in the doorway, indicating a seat inside. Bob takes a half step forward.

"I should...."

"You should go," Gerard says, and rests his hand in the small of Bob's back, pushing him gently forward. "You need to watch Frank."

With ill grace Bob steps forward and clambers inside. "Fine."

"Who's taking the last seat?" Tony asks, looking between the back of the helicopter and outside.

"I'm not leaving any of you here alone," Worm says, from where he's standing just outside of the group.

Mikey takes a step back, his hand close to his ear. "I can wait."

"If Mikey's staying so am I," Gerard says, and moves so he's next to Mikey, as if defying anyone who wants to separate them.

"Ray, you go," Brian says. He rubs at his temples, his eyes squinted and Ray can't help thinking that of them all left outside it's Brian that should be going. As if he heard Ray's thoughts, Brian straightens, looking fierce. "There's no way I'm leaving Worm to look after Gerard and Mikey alone, the guy's been through enough."

"We're just going to sit here and wait," Gerard protests, but Brian shakes his head and points his finger at Mikey then Gerard.

"No, that's what you say you'll do, but you'll end up falling out of a fucking... tree.... or drowning. Some stupid shit."

It's obvious Brian isn't about to get inside without a fight and all too aware of passing time Ray climbs into the helicopter. It's one of the hardest things he's ever done in his life, even the thought of flying is making him feel sick and his heart is pounding so fast it physically hurts. Sitting next to Bob Ray lifts his arms as Tony fastens his lapbelt and then clutches at the edge of the seat as the blades speed up and the helicopter vibrates.

Ray's mouth is dry and he's staring straight ahead, focussing on Frank's feet, anything so he doesn't have to see the ground fall away.

"We'll be fine." It's so noisy that Bob has to yell almost in Ray's ear. "It's perfectly safe."

"I know," Ray manages to say, and he does know, but the facts are everyone had said travelling by plane was safe and they'd still crashed. Ray swallows hard and tries to control his breathing, pulling in air through his nose and out of his mouth. Needing to concentrate on anything but how high they are -- they're safe, they're not going to crash again -- Ray watches Becky who's ensuring Frank is comfortable, working smoothly with Tony in the small space. Looking up she catches Ray watching and smiles. Ray tries to smile back and manages the slightest curl of his lips.

"When I get back I'm going to have coffee, coffee and a fucking big steak." Bob's still leaning in close as he shouts in Ray's ear. "And a shower before bed. I'm fucking filthy."

Ray runs his tongue over the jagged points of his teeth and knows there'll be no steak for him, not for a while. "Chicken soup for me, the kind with noodles, and painkillers, lots of them."

"I hear you," Bob says, and he presses his hand against his side as he sits back in his seat. "A fuck load of drugs and....shit."

Worried, Ray twists to the side, reaching out as Bob groans and bends forward. "Bob?" Ray pushes aside Bob's hair, trying to see his face. "Bob!"

Bob's shaking, barely audible as he gasps, "There's something wrong. You need to...."

Bob crumples, slipping heavily toward Ray. Grabbing hold Ray yells, "Help! I need help."

Within seconds Becky and Tony are there, taking Bob from Ray's arms and lowering him to the floor. Ray doesn't want to let go, clutches hold as Tony unfastens his lapbelt and grabs him under the arms and firmly pulls up and away, steering Ray toward the back of the helicopter and Frank.

"Stay here," Tony commands and goes back to Bob.

"Ray." Ray looks down and sees Frank is awake and frantic, trying to look along the length of his body to see Bob. "Ray, what's happening?"

"I don't know." Ray leans heavily against the stretcher and he knows if he didn't have that support he'd collapse to the floor. He wants to tell Frank that Bob's okay, but he doesn't know if that's true. All he can see of Bob is his lax face, his eyes closed and mouth slightly open as Becky and Tony work around him.

Ray wants to know what they're saying, but it's too loud. All he can hear are snippets of sentences and each one makes him feel worse. He's shocky. Get a line in. Bleeding into the abdomen. Liver lac. Get ready to bag him. Need to be in OR. Stat. It all jumbles inside Ray's head and he watches as Tony connects Bob to monitors and starts IVs as Becky takes over Bob's breathing.

Ray clutches Frank's hand and knows he's watching Bob die.

~*~*~*~

Ray remembers everything about the rescue -- he wishes he didn't.

He remembers the distressed sound Frank made as he tried to sit and see Bob. The way he screamed at Bob that he couldn't die. Wasn't allowed to die.

He remembers praying, promising anything, his money, his guitars, his career, willing to bargain anything -- anything in return for Bob's life.

He remembers finally coming in to land and seeing the crowd. Figures standing on walls with cameras in hand, flashes blinding as Bob was rushed away, then Frank, looking back, appearing small and scared.

He remembers having to exit the helicopter, being helped into a wheelchair and never feeling so alone.

They're memories that won't leave, no matter what Ray tries.

"Good news, I've still got a... got a..." Brian frowns. He's being pushed in a wheelchair, his gown so short it's exposing his knees and he's wearing a pair of hospital issued slippers. He touches his head with his hand. "The thing that's in there."

"A brain," the nurse says, and efficiently helps Brian out of the wheelchair and into his bed. Taking off his slippers she sets them on the floor and pulls up the blankets. "The doctor will be round soon, you should relax for now."

"Easy for her to say," Frank says, scowling at the cage over his legs. "She doesn't have to lie here like a fucking cripple."

"You're not a cripple." Ray eases himself to the side of the bed, each movement tentative against the pull of stitches in his thigh and the pain in his chest, dulled by the painkillers but still there. The floor is cold against his bare feet and the patch of exposed skin on his back prickles as he slowly crosses the room, arms slightly outstretched for balance until he can sit on the chair next to Frank's bed. Security concerns mean they're all sharing the same ward, and Ray's thankful because right now he can't imagine staying alone. It's bad enough being with the others without Bob.

"Do you see me moving?" Frank demands. "I'm a fucking cripple."

Brian picks up an empty juice box from his over-bed table and throws it toward Frank. "You're a fucking whiny... person whose parents weren't married."

"Bastard," Mikey says, looking up from where he's looking in a small hand mirror that he's got propped up against a water jug. "Does that look better?"

Ray considers Mikey, trying to think of a tactful way of saying the shaved parts are still visible, no matter which way he tries to slick down his hair. "It's, erm...."

Frank presses the control of his bed, raising himself up so he can look over at Mikey. "I told you, just shave it all off."

Mikey rests his hand over the dressing that covers his ear and side of his face. "I'm not shaving off my hair!"

"You'd look bad-ass," Frank says with faint grin.

"He'd look stupid," Gerard puts in. He's sitting cross-legged on his bed, flicking through the channels on the TV. Not that there's much to see, just dubbed sit coms and documentaries that no one has the concentration to watch.

"I've been talking to Jonah."

Everyone looks up when Worm comes back into the room. Like them all he's wearing a hospital issued gown and slippers, and the slippers slap against the floor as he moves to sit next to Brian's bed. "He says the ICU is three floors up and you need a code to get in."

"Did he mention Bob?" Anxiety gnaws at Ray's stomach, because no matter how many times they ask all they get told is that Bob is stable after his operation to repair his liver and his parents are on their way. Which is better than nothing, but they need more. They need to see him, and each time they ask they're shot down within seconds.

Worm tugs at his gown. "They say he's still up there, but that's all. Sorry."

"Not your fault," Brian says, slowing his speech in the way that's familiar to them all now, as he allows himself time to think what to say. "I'm going up there; tonight."

A motor whirs as Frank sits himself up even further. "I'm going too."

Ray knows what he should do is say no, that Frank can't even walk, that none of them are well and sneaking into the ICU is insane, but the thing is, there's something missing. Bob is missing, and if they're being told nothing all that's left is to go on their own. "We'll need to get you a wheelchair."

"There's some in a storage room along the corridor," Mikey says. "I saw them when I was talking to Ben."

Gerard pushes his hair out of his face. "Ben?"

Mikey sets down the mirror, giving up on arranging his hair. "He's one of the night nurses. He likes Morrissey."

"Never mind what he likes," Frank says. "Can he get me a wheelchair?"

Mikey shrugs his shoulders. "Probably not, but I can. I saw the code."

"You'll need someone to distract the nurses," Worm adds.

"We could pay them off?" Frank suggests. "Or just go anyway, they can't stop us."

Ray slumps back in his chair, tired after his trip across the room. "A kitten could stop us right now, and my wallet's back on the island."

"Sneaking in it is," Gerard says, leaning against his mound of pillows. "We'll go tonight."

Ray nods, says, "Agreed."

~~~~

Worm pulls back the curtain on the door and looks outside. "Jonah's gone for his tea. I'll go talk to him now."

The lamps above the beds provide pools of light in the dark of the ward. Ray looks at each one, at his friends sitting on the edges of their beds, Frank barely able to lie still for impatience.

Worm puts his hand on the door handle, says, "Tell Bob I'm thinking about him."

Ray feels bad that they're leaving him behind, but they need a distraction, and Worm insisted. He opens the door and slips outside, his slippers slapping against the floor. The clock on the far wall ticks, one minute, two. When it reaches three Mikey stands and Gerard follows him to the door, says, "Be careful."

"I will," Mikey promises, and opens the door a little, looking along the corridor before going outside. The door shuts and Ray stands, heading for Frank's bed. He's not looking forward to getting him in the wheelchair but there's no chance Frank will stay behind. Ray wouldn't want him to.

Frank sits up as far as he can and leans forward, taking the blanket and cage off his legs. Ray swallows hard when he sees them, the white casts emphasizing the black bruising on Frank's swollen toes. Bracing his hands on the bed, Frank's face is grey as he inches across the bed. Ray steps close, but Frank looks up, hisses, "I can do it."

Knowing he needs this independence, Ray waits, close enough he can jump forward if needed, then turns when he hears the door open. It's Mikey, opening the door with his hip and pulling a wheelchair behind him.

"Did anyone see you?" Gerard asks, stepping away from the door.

Mikey shakes his head and positions the wheelchair next to Frank's bed. "I was stealthy like a spy."

Relieved, Ray looks between the wheelchair and Frank, trying to work out how to move him without pain. In the end Frank makes the decision for him and grabs hold of the far armrest of the wheelchair, about to slide off the bed.

"Whoa, hold on." Mikey and Ray step forward and Mikey hooks his arm under Frank's as Gerard climbs onto the bed. "You'll break something else."

Frank's hands are clenched and he's panting for breath. "Just do it."

Mikey looks over at Gerard and together they lift, easing Frank down. Teeth biting into his bottom lip his eyes are filmed with tears as he lifts his foot onto one of the rests. "I'm fine."

"Sure you are." Mikey crouches and gently lifts Frank's other leg, positioning it on the rest. When he's sure he's settled he stands and grabs hold of the handles and starts to push. "Let's do this."

Actually getting upstairs goes smoothly, Gerard takes the lead, peering around corners and ushering them on when they're clear. Still, all the time they're moving Ray feels nervous, not helped by how exhausted he is, having to lean against the wall when they wait for the elevator. When it comes they all step inside, looking forward and ignoring a young nurse who looks puzzled as she steps to the back, holding a box of files in her arms.

Ray watches the lighted numbers change. Floor seven, eight then nine. The doors open and they all exit, clustered together as they look at the signs.

Gerard points to the left. "That way."

It's quieter on this floor, no hushed sounds of TVs or people laughing as they talk. The waiting rooms they pass are all empty apart from one, a group of people looking up as they slowly walk past. Their eyes are dead, and their mouths turned down, empty cups littering a low table. Ray empathizes with their misery, and the closer they get to the ICU the worse he feels, cold like he hasn't been since they finally left the island. He trails his hand along the wall, needing the support.

They reach a set of double doors, an intercom and number pad set at the side. As one they stop, Frank verbalizing their thoughts. "Shit."

It sums it all up, they've got this far and can't get any further. Frustrated, Ray's thinking of excuses, reasons why they need to be inside when he hears footsteps from behind. He looks back, and sees the woman from the waiting room, head down and caught in her own emotions as she jabs in a code, opening the door. She goes inside, and Brian holds out his hand, stopping the door from closing.

He steps inside, says, "Come on."

Ray was a kid last time he was in an ICU, a relative was dying and he was left sitting outside the room, bored as he waited for his parents. He remembers it as a scary place, full of machines and solemn people, each room containing someone seemingly condemned to death. It doesn't feel much different now and he wraps his arm around his stomach as they peer into the first room.

It's an old woman, her hair spread over the pillow and surrounded by tubes and machines. It feels like he's seeing something he shouldn't and shivers run down Ray's spine as he mouths an apology and starts to walk past.

"Can I help you?"

Ray stops walking as a nurse steps from behind a desk. She's wearing blue scrubs, her hair pulled back, looking stern as she looks at them all.

Gerard steps forward and rests his hand on Frank's shoulder. "We're here to see Bob. Bob Bryar. We crashed, on an island, and he was brought here."

"I heard." She moves closer, as if she can physically stop them getting past. "You do realise it's family visiting only, and from the looks of you, you shouldn't even be out of your beds."

Brian steps to the front. "He is family. All we want to do is see him. Five minutes will do."

"The rules are clear..."

"Fuck the rules," Frank interrupts. Gerard squeezes his shoulder as Ray talks over the outburst.

"We understand that, we do. But he's our friend. He's family and no one will tell us if he's okay. All we want to do is see him, even for a minute."

"Please," Mikey says.

"This is highly irregular." She looks over her shoulder and then seems to make a decision. "I'm going to call your ward, no doubt you've been missed. I suppose you could wait here until then. Maybe in that room." She indicates a room on the left of the corridor then steps to the side. "I'm going to call now."

"Thank you," Frank says, and then they're moving as fast as they can, needing to see Bob.

It's Brian who gets there first, and Ray hears his gasp, and sees how he grabs for the door-frame for support. They're not good signs and Ray's feet are like lead the closer he gets, until finally he's in the room. It smells like antiseptic, the air cool, but all Ray can concentrate on is Bob. He's lying in bed, the blanket pulled up to mid chest, machines monitoring his heart-rate and tubes snaking from under the sheets. There's an oxygen mask over his mouth, drips attached to both arms, and he's lying so still, so deathly white that he looks more dead than alive.

"Oh god," Mikey pushes Frank close to the bed, taking care not to tangle his legs in the tube or wires. Brian takes the other side, slumping down in a chair, his head in his hands. Ray stands at the foot of the bed, next to Gerard and his knees are pressed against the metal frame.

Frank touches Bob's chest, the gentlest of touches, as if reassuring himself that he really is breathing. "You bastard. I can't believe we came all the way here and you're fucking asleep." Wiping his hand across his eyes, Frank takes in a deep breath and when he talks again his voice is thick. "You'd better wake up soon. I need you to push me in this thing, Mikey nearly pushed me into a wall."

"Don't listen to him," Mikey says, and leans across Frank so he can touch Bob's arm. "I'm an awesome driver, it wasn't my fault that the plant moved. Tell him, Gee."

Gerard nods, says seriously, "It did, I saw it."

Gripping the bed frame, Ray says, "See what happens when you slack off? They start seeing moving plants."

"It did move," Mikey protests, he looks at Bob. "When you wake up I'll show you."

Brian groans. "I can't believe you're sleeping. Moving plants. Jesus."

From outside there's the sound of footsteps, and Ray knows their time is nearly up. It's not enough, it can never be enough and all he wants to do is grab hold of Bob and hold on, but he knows he can't, not yet. He leans forward, touching Bob's foot. "You need to wake up soon, we're waiting for you."

"Yeah," Gerard agrees. "We need you. There's part of us missing."

Frank clears his throat, his hand still over Bob's heart. "I don't do that sappy shit, but yeah. Miss you."

"We all miss you," Mikey says. "Fuck this ICU shit, you need to be with us."

Bob opens his eyes.


Three Weeks Later.


"Put them in your hoodie pocket."

Gerard holds out the bag. Mikey shuts off his phone and makes for the main doors.

"No," Mikey says.

Gerard cradles the bag against his chest and gives Ray a look. Ray shrugs and starts to sidle away. "He's your brother."

"He's not listening to me," Gerard complains, looking after Mikey who's already inside. "Mikey's the one with a criminal past, he should be running the contraband."

Ray itches at his thigh through his jeans. "It's hardly contraband, they're not going to throw you in jail if you're caught."

"They'd take the food." Gerard crumples the paper bag, his fingers over a grease stain. "Then Bob and Frank would starve."

Ray shakes his head. "They do get fed, they're not actually starving, no matter what they say."

"They feed them hospital food," Gerard says and gives a visible shudder. "You can't have forgotten what it was like already."

"The lime jello was nice," Ray says, but he gets Gerard's point. Even though the food was prepared well, it was still hospital food, which by its very nature, sucks.

Gerard looks at Ray like he's insane. "The lime jello looked like Jabba the Hutt's snot."

"But tasted damn good," Ray says and grabs the bag, stuffing it under his hoodie as he goes inside. "Satisfied?"

Gerard grins. "Perfectly."

For the last two weeks Ray's walked through this same reception, into the same elevator and onto the same room. The only thing that changes are the people, the staff and other visitors, and, as soon as gifts were allowed, the contents of the ward. Catching up with Mikey, who's peering at his reflection in the polished elevator doors, Ray presses the button for their floor, says, "I say five today."

"Six," Mikey says immediately, pulling at a piece of gelled hair so it lies over the angry scar next to his ear.

"Ten," Gerard puts in. "It's a physical therapy day, Frank always gets extra frustrated."

Mikey frowns and drops his hand. "I forgot about that."

If he's honest so had Ray, but it's too late now, he's already claimed his number. The elevator arrives with a ping, and they all step inside, clustered together as it crowds with other visitors clutching flowers and soft toys. Ray rests his hands over his hoodie and hopes the smell of burgers and onions isn't too strong. Finally, after a minute where everyone stares ahead and no one speaks, they arrive at the right floor.

Getting from the elevator to Frank and Bob's room doesn't take long, especially now Ray can walk without less pain. That's still a new feeling and sometimes he finds himself with his arm across his chest, subconsciously protecting his ribs. He suspects it'll still happen for a while, yet another lingering side effect, in addition to the bad dreams that plague them all.

There's no guard outside the ward now, there's no need now the immediate press interest is gone. But what there is are gifts, multiple flower arrangements, balloons, plushies and fruit baskets, forwarded on by the record company as soon as they knew Bob was going to survive. Approaching the door, Ray can already smell the flowers and actually stepping inside is like entering a war zone, a one where rainbows battle legions of black.

"Oh my god, they're spreading," Mikey says, taking in the new flower arrangements that are crammed on the window sills and on the unused over bed tables. There's even one propped in a corner, black roses made to resemble a monster's face. Mikey points, "I like that one."

"You can take it, take them all." Bob's sitting up in his bed, a red plaid shirt over his gown and a bowl of fruit on his lap. Picking up a banana he throws it at the balloons that are clustered near the window, hitting a yellow smiley balloon dead centre. The banana bounces off and the balloon skitters across the ceiling, ending up over Mikey's old bed.

"You're losing your touch," Gerard says, and walks over to the window where he crouches over, picking up the glossy remains of balloons and hanging the strings over his arm.

Seeing Bob's hand over the fruit bowl Ray pulls out the bag from his hoodie before Gerard takes an apple to the head. "We brought you something."

Bob eyes the bag. "I hope it's a triple cheese burger and fries."

"You know it," Ray says, and puts the food on Bob's over bed table. "There's stuff for Frank, too."

"His therapist was running late." Bob grabs a handful of fries, looking blissful as he chews. "He'll be back soon."

"He's better hurry up or I'll eat his food, I'm hungry." In a bold move Mikey darts in and steals a fry from Bob before escaping to one of the empty beds. Sitting down, he eats, then grins when Bob snatches an orange out of the bowl and throws it, hard. "Thanks."

"What fucking ever," Bob says, giving Mikey a narrow-eyed look before going back to his food.

Holding the bag containing Frank's sandwich, Ray leaves it next to his bed and sits next to Mikey. The air is full of the scent of oranges and he holds out his hand, taking a segment when Mikey offers. Which is a mistake, Ray's mouth still isn't fully healed and he winces as he swallows.

"I never thought, sorry."

Ray waves off Mikey's apology, it's not a big deal and he's more interested in the sound of footsteps and then, Frank's giggle. It's something that's been missing for the last few weeks, when they all struggled to adapt, Frank and Bob more than the others. Ray knows it's been torture for both of them, trapped in bed with nowhere to go.

When Frank appears he's being pushed in a wheelchair by his physical therapist, Doctor Torture. Ray doesn't actually know her real name but she doesn't seem to mind the name, even the times Frank threw it out as a curse -- the days when he was bone weary and half crazy with pain.

"Watch this and be blown away, fuckers," Frank says, brandishing the crutches he's been holding. They're the long kind and he props them against his bed as Doctor Torture puts on the brakes and comes around to the front of the wheelchair.

"To your bed only, you've had a big day."

"Sure," Frank says, and takes hold of her hands, holding on as he's helped to his feet. It's the first time Ray's seen him stand in weeks and he can't help the worry as Frank wavers slightly before finally getting his balance. When he has he nods and Doctor Torture passes over the crutches, steadying Frank until he's got them settled under his arms.

She looks him up and down. "You ready?"

Frank grins. "I'm always ready."

It's only a matter of a few steps to get back to his bed, but it still takes Frank a while, his face screwed up in concentration as he slowly moves. Still, when he collapses down his sense of triumph is obvious, and Ray can't help his own grin.

"That's awesome!"

"I'm awesome," Frank says, beaming wide. "Now I just need to work out how to play guitar using crutches."

Gerard bundles up the balloon strings and drops them on top of a lurid yellow and pink flower arrangement. "We could push you on stage on a gurney, and just leave you on it."

Ray shakes his head. "We've already done that, we need something new. Like a modified wheelchair, we could disguise it as a dalek."

"Or a swamp monster," Mikey adds. "A gross green blob that slithers across the stage."

"Right, right." Gerard pushes his hands through his hair, pacing the ward. "We could do a classic monster movie concept show. I'm thinking old school Godzilla and swamp monsters."

Bob swallows the last of his burger. "I'm not wearing green make-up."

"What about a costume? You'd look awesome with scales."

Ray doesn't get to hear Bob's reply, it's probably just as well, Bob's face is already red and Brian walking into the ward is a timely distraction. He stops, looking pained.

"I thought you said no more concept albums?"

"I did," Gerard says. "This is for the concerts. They're different things."

"Right." Brian doesn't look reassured and he rubs at his temples, still suffering headaches that tend to linger. A few moments and he drops his hands, looking between Bob and Frank. "I hear they're finally kicking you out."

"What?" Gerard says, looking at Bob. "You never said."

"I was eating," Bob says, and wipes at his mouth with the back of his hand. "It's not till next week anyway."

"You're getting out, too?" Mikey asks, wandering over to Frank's bed. He sits on the side, knee bent on the covers and pokes Frank hard in the chest. "You're supposed to tell me that shit."

Frank grabs Mikey's hand, trying to bite his finger. "I only found out this morning."

Mikey makes a dismissive noise, and Frank stops snapping his teeth, looking across at Bob. "You know, I think this calls for the big one."

Bob's mouth turns up at the corner. "I agree."

Mikey slides off the bed, his feet hitting the ground with a thump. Everyone watches as he walks to the cluster of balloons, pushing aside strings until he finds one right at the back. A purple string that's attached to a huge Barney balloon, complete with pop out eyes and a speech balloon saying. I love you!. It's hideously schmoopy and Ray's fingers itch as Mikey tows it to the center of the room.

Frank reaches out and grabs a fruit basket that's been set on the chair. Eying the contents he selects a red apple, and looks approving when Mikey does the same.

"I'm going for mass," Bob says, picking up a large orange. Debating weight verses size, Ray selects a pomegranate while Brian picks up a banana. Ignoring Bob's bowl Gerard plunders a fruit basket pushed half under the bed, standing up with a pineapple in his hand.

He smiles, says, "I'm thinking outside of the box."

It's a brave choice and Ray gives a thumbs up of approval before taking his place, fingers gripping the pomegranate as he pulls back his arm.

Barney floats to the side as if trying to escape.

Bob looks at them all, says, "On three. One. Two. Three."

They all throw, fruit flying through the air.

With a loud pop, Barney explodes.

~~~~~

Comments here, please.