We’ve been flying for a little over an hour and I wish I could say I was bored, but the truth is, I’m up to my neck in emails, shit that I should save for next week, but I know all too well that getting a jump start on them now will save me from getting an earful from my publicist and my mom come Tuesday.  It sucks.  I’m always working, and right now, all of this shit about...why did you say that, or, can you make this appearance, will you do this interview, will you read this script for so and so...

It’s giving me a damn migraine.

I say fuck it all, and close my laptop, shove it in my bag and push it away from me so I won’t be tempted to touch it again.  Hell, I shouldn’t have even brought it, but that would be crossing the line for a workaholic like me.  

I called Rachael the second I was dismissed from the set, completely pissed off that she was trying to ditch me.  She played it off like it was no big deal, told me that it was my vacation, so that meant she was going to take a weekend for herself.  Deep down, I knew I owed her that, for all the shit I put her through, but at the same time I needed her...so bad.  

Besides Trace, and my immediate family, she’s the only other person that was right there when it all happened, saw me come apart at the seams, and was a big part of the reason why I was able to come back from the whole thing.  I feel...lost, at times, without her.  I told her all of that too, and she just told me that I would be okay without her for a few days, that she had plans, and that I would have a good time with Trace.

There wasn’t much I could say after that.  Fighting, would only bring a phone call to my mother, who would berate me for an hour about how poor Rachael needed a break.

So I went to JFK on my own, even though I was miserable the whole way there, and when I laid eyes on my stewardess, I can’t deny that it made my emotions flare up even more.  I was used to Lidia.  My mom hired her before Justified came out, and she always took care of me, knew what I wanted, and I felt secure with her, especially after rehab.  But she’d gotten more clientele, probably thanks to me, and I couldn’t hold that against her.  This Fiona chick...she doesn’t seem so bad.  Sure, I forgot her name for a minute there, and it seemed to unleash her raw side, but I’m over it now.  She’s precise, got everything I asked for on the phone, and actually...she won’t leave me alone.  She checks with me about every twenty minutes, makes sure my glass is never empty, and gives me a warm, pleasing smile that makes me feel comforted while we’re in the air.

I’d like to say it’s because she’s a warm, caring person.

But that’s crazy, and I’ve been in this business too long not to know when somebody is desperately bilking me for a huge tip.  As far as clients go, I’m probably the cream of the crop for this one, as cocky as that is to think.  It’s true though.  Every time I step on plane, or go to a hotel, the staff seem to fall all over themselves to please me, so they can put food on their tables and pay their rent.  I don’t blame them.  I can still remember, a long time ago, when my family was considered working class...when my mom had to wait tables part time to get us by because my father left.  I’ll always have respect for them...

But something is telling me that this Fiona chick is desperate...really desperate.  She needs this bonus.  

It’s vital.

I’m not sure I like that either, but as this is only a two hour flight, I won’t question her about her personal life.  At the end of the weekend, I’ll cut her a check for two grand as long as she does everything the right way, and she can be happy with that.  Then we’ll move on with our lives.  I’ll forget all about her, and she’ll do the same thing.

I take off my reading glasses, and pull my earbuds out, tossing everything on the empty seat beside me.  Then, my eyes are drawn to Fiona.  She’s sitting in her designated area, reading some book and taking notes.  She must be in school or something, and I guess that could be the reason she needs this money from me.  She has to pay for her books or something, yeah.  I can respect that.  If things worked out differently in my life, I’d probably be in the same boat.  It’s times like this I learn to take a step back and put myself in the other persons place, just like my mom raised me to.

“Mr. Timberlake, do you need anything?”

Jesus.  It’s like she can sense that I’m staring at her, thinking about her.  

She’s gotta be a mother.  It’s the only explanation, because my mom does the same shit, to this very day.  “No, I think I’m okay.”

She looks back over her shoulder and gives me that perfectly aligned smile of hers.  “Okay.”

“You can all me Justin,” I reassure her.  “I’m not big on the formal stuff.”

“Certainly, Justin,” she nods, and goes back to her reading.

“So do you go to school...”

BANG

I feel the damage surge through me, and I don’t know a thing about how an airplane works, but something inside is telling me there was more to that bang than just turbulence.  I gasp, and clutch the arms of my seat tightly, as I feel the plane jump, shudder and descend slightly.  “Oh God.”

Pussy.

Okay, I mean, I’m used to flying.  I had to get used to it when I was young, but I’ve never been a hundred percent secure while I’m in the air.  It was the reason for Lidia in the first place.  My mom must have interviewed fifty people before she found the one person that would keep me from having a meltdown in turbulence.  

“It’s just some turbulence.”  Fiona shoots up from the chair, and looks out the window for a moment, before coming over to me.  “Are you okay?”

I look at her, and swallow hard, not being able to do anything more than nod.

“Do me a favor and put that seatbelt on.” She smiles gently.  

I do it, without a second thought, and strangely enough, it starts to make me feel a lot better.  My heart slows down, and my breathing becomes regulated again.

“Here, sip it slowly.”  She hands me some water.  “It’ll calm you down more.”

“Thanks.”  I do it for several moments, and then return the cup to the arm rest.  “You’re a mom aren’t you?”

Her expression is serious for a split second, before she forces a pleasant one for me again.  “How’d you guess?”

“Just a hunch.”

“There’s a storm out there.” She rubs my shoulder in a professional, reassuring way.  “I’m going to check with the captain.”

She begins to walk away, but then another huge, sharp decent takes over the plane, and it takes everything inside of me not to scream.  “What...what the hell is...”

“Hold on. Just stay calm, Justin.”  She holds up a finger and walks towards the cockpit, picking up the device that she can use to communicate through the door.  “Captain Sarowski?”

She waits for several moments, and so do I, the silence deafening.  

Of all the times for there to be a problem...

No answer comes from the cockpit.

And then, the plane takes the biggest lurch of them all, swaying from side to side, causing my stomach to turn, and I start to feel sick.  The cabin pressure must drop, because the oxygen masks burst from the ceiling seconds later.  I stare at them, hoping its just a glitch, like they talk about on commercial airlines.  They say: ‘if the cabin depressurizes the oxygen masks may come down, do not be alarmed, as their use may not be needed.’

But something tells me I should be using mine.

Fiona doesn’t hesitate.  I see her yank her emergency cockpit keys out of her pocket and she opens the door.  “Joe!” I hear her call out, before she looks back at me.  “Put that over your face.”

This is bad.  I do it though, because I’m too fucking scared not to.  I put the round yellow rubber thing over my nose and mouth, and I feel the flow of air going in after a few seconds.  It’s easier to breathe now, and I didn’t realize how bad it had gotten inside the jet

We’re heading down, not up, and that’s bad.  Down and down, and nothing seems to be taking control of the aircraft.  What the hell? I mean really, what the fuck is going on?  I start to panic, which I know is bad, but damn it...I really didn’t want to die this weekend.  All I wanted to do was relax.

“Fiona!” I call through the mask, and although it’s muffled, I know she can hear me.  

“It’s an ice storm!  The windshield...a bunch of it broke through the glass..Joe is down!”  She looks back at me through the cockpit door, with a desperate gaze in her eyes.  “It got caught up in the engine...we have mechanical failure.  We can’t stay up much longer...I have to try to land us!  Just...sit tight and don’t take that mask off!”

“Do you even know how to land an airplane?”

She doesn’t answer, just slams the cockpit door so I can’t distract her.

I sit there trembling with fear as I hang on to my seat for dear life, and start to pray.

Jesus, we’re going down, and as I look out the window, all I can see are the snow capped Rocky Mountains below us.  We’re about forty minutes out from Vail, flying over the middle of nowhere, and soon...soon we’ll be stuck in the middle of it all, alone.

And the only person I have to rely on his her, a woman I’ve never even met before today.

We start to plunge toward the earth seconds later, at a rapid pace.  I know she’s trying, but it’s obvious that the aircraft is too far gone to control anymore.  I see the earth out my window, twisting, tumbling and turning.  A loud buzzing blares through the entire jet, telling me that we’re doomed.  Then...we hit, bounce, crash...

Something hits me in the head, and the last thing that flashes through my mind is Trace, telling me this would happen if I wasn’t careful.  That something would knock me out and I’d miss all the fun.

That fucker.

I pass out.
************
I’m dead.

I mean, I must be, because Joe is.  I see him there, hunched over the dash, his face bloody from the deep gash the glass caused when the windshield shattered in mid air.  I think...he must have died instantly.

At least he didn’t suffer, but fuck...what a horrible way to go.

That was a hell of a decent, and I couldn’t land properly once the engine completely gave out.  We hit the ground so damn hard, and I know I felt the plane flip over, and then back again.

I have to be dead.

But when my eyes open a little wider, and my vision clears, I realize I’m still inside the plane, the pain shooting upwards through my right leg.  Well...maybe I’m not...not dead.  I doubt you can feel this type of pain when you are.

So that means I’ve survived, but when I gaze out in front of me, all I see is white, everywhere, the snow swirling, a lot of it landing on my face and in my hair.  The wind howls too, a low, miserable sounding hollow moan and the gusts surge through the broken windshield, freezing me to the core.  I know the temperature has to be at or below freezing.

I how bad of a situation I’m in.

Or...wait...we’re in.

Jesus, the client.

I have to get to him, if I can.

I shift around, and find that my seatbelt is jammed, so I painstakingly reach into my pocket and pull out my set of keys.  I have a Swiss Army attached to the key ring, a gift from Michael...so long ago.  I’ve always carried it with me since, it’s just instinct. I slice through the belt, and pull myself out of the seat.  I realize the plane is upright, which is good.  Makes it easier to crawl through.  I yelp in pain when I move my right ankle, realizing that it hurts very badly.  It’s what is causing the pain to shoot up my entire leg, and I thank the powers that be that my whole leg isn’t shattered.

The ankle must be broken, either that, or it’s just a very bad sprain.  I won’t say I can’t walk though. No, nothing is impossible.  I’ve been through this...I can handle it, and the client is my main priority right now, not the pain.  My adrenaline kicks in all at once, and I will myself forward, out of the cockpit and back out into the cabin.  The emergency lights are on, dim, but on, and they allow me to see him right away, still belted down into his seat, that’s been partially uprooted from the floor of the cabin.  He has a gash on his forehead, which has been causing some blood to drop down onto his face, and his clothes, but I know it’s not a fatal wound.

But that doesn’t mean he survived.

I rush to him, sit up on my knees, bite my lip to choke back the pain, and I feel for a pulse.  It’s strong.  He’s okay too, and I thank the heavens for that.  “Mr. Timberlake.” I shake him slightly.  “Mr. Timberlake, can you hear me?”

He groans, and his head moves from side to side.  He’s delirious, but that’s common.  

“Mr. Timberlake, can you look at me?”

His eyes drift open, and he stares at me for a good long time.  “What happened?”  

It’s a hoarse whisper, but I know he’s not too far gone, and that’s good.  It means his head injury is something I can treat easily, and that will make both of our lives easier.

“There was an accident,” I nod.  “Watch my finger.”  I move it from left to right, and when his eyes follow it for the most part, I know he’ll recover.  “Do you think you can move? Do you feel like anything is broken?”

He just stares at me, and I know he’s in shock more than anything else.  I have to be the strong one now, for him, have to get him through this so he makes it home alive.  

The captain is dead.

He’s my responsibility.

Thank God I came prepared.

I take his seatbelt off.  “I’m going to help you down out of the seat if you feel like nothing else is wrong, okay?”

He nods, and I painstakingly grip his arm, doing my best not to put all of my weight on my bad ankle as I move him out of the seat and down into a debris free area of the floor.  I have him lay down, and quickly go to work, finding my pack that had been strewn to the back of the plane, and pulling out my first aid kit.  I clean up the wound, trying not to be effected when he winces and whimpers because the alcohol stings.  I realize the cut is pretty deep.

He’ll need a stitch or two.

“Justin, you need some stitches.” I tell him, as I gather my needle and stitching string.  “I’ll have to heat the needle to sterilize it, and I’ll do my best to numb the area, but I want you to know that you will feel some pain.  Do you understand?”

His eyes well up with tears.  “Is this happening?”

I sigh, and pull my lighter out of my pack.  “It is, but I’m here, and I’m not going to let anything happen to you.  I promise.”

Fuck, I even smile.  

Cass is right, I am cut out for the secret service.

I really hope I see her again.

I don’t talk to him as I sterilize the needle and thread it with the string.  I pull out a vile of topical anesthetic, douse a cotton swap, and rub his skin.  “Let me know when it starts to work.”

“It’s tingling a little.”

“Then it’s working.  Now, please try to stay still, okay?”r32;

“Are you sure you know what you’re doing?”

I sigh and narrow my eyes at him.  Even now, he doubts me, but I wouldn’t put it past him.  It’s typical for somebody like him...thinks I need to have a medical agree to give him some stitches.  “I really don’t think you’re in a place to question that, Justin.”

He sighs, and looks up at the dented ceiling, pressing his lips together.  “Just be fast,” he moans.

I roll my eyes, and start.  He winces in pain as my needle enters his skin, and I start my thread work.  I try to calm him by shushing him and telling him everything will be fine in a few minutes, just like when I sit with my daughter in the hospital.  It seems to work, slightly, and before I know it, I’m looping the last stitch into place, and cutting the thread off.  “There.”

“That hurts like a bitch.”

r32;r32;“At least you’re alive.”

“What about Joe?”

I sigh, and debate it for a moment, but I know the reality.  He’s going to find out, even if I don’t tell him.  “Joe passed away.”

He stares at me.

I take the opportunity to bandage the stitches, and wrap gauze around his forehead, so the elements won’t be able to wreck my work overnight.  “Don’t mess with it, okay?  I’ll check it in the morning.  You’ll have to sleep in intervals, you probably have a concussion.”

He just nods, and sits up when I move away from him.  “Don’t you have a radio, or something? We need to call for help, right now.”

“I’m trained to know what to do in these situations.”  I start digging around, picking up vital accessories that we’ll need, that were strewn around the cabin.  “The first step was to secure ourselves, the next is to gather everything we might need for the next few days.  I don’t even know where the hand radio is.  That pack probably got tossed out of its spot in the crash.  When I find it, I’ll let you know.”

“The next few days?”

“Justin, there’s a blizzard out there,” I remind him.  “Even if we could radio for help right now, they wouldn’t be able to get to us right away.”

“Of course they would...they have helicopters and...”

“I think I know what I’m talking about.”

“So what...we’re stuck here?”

“For the moment.  You could be helpful by gathering up things you think we might be able to use.  Go to the back of the jet and I’ll work my way forward towards the cockpit.  It’ll cut the time in half and we can move on to the next thing.  Look for things like flashlights, food, bottled water, and blankets.”

He swallows hard and his mouth hangs open, like he’s never heard of such a thing.  He thought this would be easy, that because he’s rich and famous somebody would immediately come to his rescue, but I’ve just given him a wake up call, even though I haven’t told him how dire I know our situation is.  We’re literally in the wilderness, in the middle of nowhere, hundreds of miles from the trails and ranger stations of the Rockies, and it’s going to be hard to get radio reception, even if I do find the hand link.  What’s more, when the sun rises, I know we have to get away from this plane.  As the air heats up, it’ll cause the gasoline in this aircraft to expand and contract, which means the whole thing could blow to bits.

I have no idea how I’m going to break it to him, that we’re going to have to start walking, and find some kind of shelter before night falls tomorrow.

I doubt he’s cut out for the rugged side of the wilderness...but then again, that’s why I’m in charge.

“This is everything I could find in the dark.” Justin scowls as he shuffles over to me thirty minutes later, with an armful of supplies.

Everything about that look is telling me he made a half assed attempt at following my instructions, but I know I can’t hold it against him.  This is probably the most extreme thing that’s ever happened to him before, so in the morning, I’ll make another sweep of the cabin just to be sure he didn’t miss any water.  Water, clean water, I know, is the most important thing for us.  “Fine.”

He plops down next to me.  “Did you find the radio?”

“No.  It might be in the cockpit.”

“Fine, then I’ll check.”

“No.”  I move in front of him as he starts for the doorway.  “I’ll get to it.”

“But we need it now.”

r32;“I said I would do it...” I trail off because my voice is starting to get louder, and the last thing I need, is him panicking.  “I said I’ll get to it.”

“Just let me go...”

“Have you seen a dead body before?” I say, bluntly.

He stops, stares at me, and I know he probably forgot all about Joe in his crusade to save himself.  “I...”

“Just leave it alone for now, okay?” I whisper.  “I don’t need you seeing that.  You don’t need to be anymore traumatized than you already are.”

He sits back down, and I know I’ve made a point with him.  I continue digging through my emergency supply pack, that I found wedged in between the bathroom door and the hallway.  Thankfully, all of its contents are still in tact, and that’s good.  I know, we’re going to need every single thing in here at some point.  “Here, have this.”  I pull out a chocolate bar and hand it to him.

“Do you really think I can eat at a time like this?”r32;

“You better, if you want to have energy in the morning.”

He doesn’t say anything, just takes it and starts to eat.  I have one too, and it makes me feel slightly better.  I decide it’s better to be safe than sorry, and start constructing a splint for my ankle.  The pain has gotten worse.  It’s definitely broken, or at least fractured, and I know the hours between now and sunrise are vital for it.  Keeping it still will help the mending process begin.  

“What happened?”

I don’t look at him.  “I have a sprained ankle.  Not a big deal.”

“Oh.”  

His teeth are chattering, and so, I raise a flashlight that I found into his face.  He squints, naturally, and asks me what the hell I’m doing, but I don’t answer.  I can see it already, his lips are blue, his face is pale.  He needs to warm himself up.  Me, I found some layers of clothing earlier and yanked them on.  He’s still in a thin sweater and jeans.  I know he needs his snowboarding thermals right now, but they’re in the luggage compartment, outside the plane, and it’s too dark to get them out right now.  It’ll have to wait til morning, but until then, he needs something else to keep his core temperature consistent.

I gather up every blanket I can find, and yank that duffle bag of his over to me.  There’s barely anything we can use, but I do find a couple of sweaters, and make him put them on.  There’s a pair of gloves, and a knit hat as well, and so I make him put those on too.  I put two layers of blankets on the floor, next. “Lay down,” I tell him.

“I can’t...I can’t just lay here...”

“Do you want to freeze to death?”

“I...no...”r32;r32;

“Then do what I say.”

He does it, scowling the entire time, and Jesus, I’ve never met anybody so stubborn in my life.  I put it to the back of my mind though.  My only concern right now is to make sure he’ll be warm enough to get through the night.  I cover him with the rest of the blankets when he finally lays down, making sure they are secure and tight around his body.  “Don’t move around a lot.  We need to keep your body heat in there, all right?”

“Great.”

I sigh, and begin to work on the splint again, smirking a little when it’s just right.  Then I flinch, remove my shoe, making sure I don’t make a sound.  I don’t want him to know how bad it is.  If he thinks his leader is in agony, then he’ll lose hope, and right now, hope is all he has.  I get the splint around my ankle, and secure it into place with some medical tape.  It feels slightly better, a little more secure, and I know by morning I’ll probably be able to walk on it better.  Good.

Justin will have to sleep in two hour intervals, but my watch is still working, thankfully, so I can time them.  “Try and get some sleep, okay?  I’ll wake you in a couple of hours, and you can have some more chocolate and water.”

“There’s no way I can sleep.”

“You have to,” I urge him, and put a comforting hand on his cheek.  “It’s...tomorrow is going to be a little hard.  You need your strength.”

“Hard?  Why?  Aren’t we just going wait for help to come?”

I sigh.  “I don’t know yet.  That’s why you need your rest, Justin.”

He’s silent for a long time, staring out into space, processing everything.  I can’t imagine the desperate thoughts surging through his mind.  He’s not like me, trained to pop into the military mindset during times like this, and without my guidance, he’ll die in a day or so.  That means I need to take care of myself, and once he’s asleep I will

Once he’s asleep, I’ll look for that radio.  Not while he’s awake, because if it’s broken, I know he’ll go into panic mode, just like any other passenger would.

“It’s really bad isn’t it? You know it is.  You know they might not find us.”

“It’s not as bad as you think.”

I’m a bad liar.

“I’m not stupid.  I know we’re like...lost.”

“The plane has a tracking device built in,” I reassure him, even though it could be broken too.  I won’t know for sure until the morning though.  “It can signal a distress call back to the tower if the plane crashes.  They know we’re down by now.”

“Are you sure?”

He looks at me, so desperately, like his very survival depends on me, and...I know it does.  

“I’m sure.”

Not that it matters, because we’re leaving it all behind tomorrow, to seek refuge in a safer place.

“Just close your eyes, okay?” I say it gently.  “Please.”

“Will you wake me up if something happens?”

“I have to wake you up in two hours anyway,” I smirk.  “Trust me.”

He nods a little, and then, he allows his eyes to close.

Thank God.

I wait another twenty minutes, until I hear his breathing get slow and rhythmic.  He’s fallen to sleep.  Great.  I silently push myself to my feet, test the weight on my ankle and find that it’s a little bit better than before. Then, I make my way back to the cockpit, doing my best not to look over at Joe, and holding back my groans as the brittle cold are shoots in through the windshield.  I search everywhere for the emergency pilot pack with the hand radio in it, finally retrieving it from underneath the Joe’s seat, doing my best not to disturb the body.  I pull it to me, feeling the adreniline rush through me again as I unzip it.

If it’s okay...we might be able to...to get home earlier than expected.

But it wasn’t meant to be.  When I dig the thing out, I find that it’s been snapped in two pieces, and I sigh harshly.  “Fuck.  No...please...”

I push it back together, and it quickly falls apart again.

This is very, very bad.

I stare at it.  Maybe, I could fix it, with some time and the right tools...the proper shelter.  But it will take some time, and the further we venture into the mountains, the harder it will be to get reception.  Still, I save the thing, just in case.  Perhaps at night, when Justin is asleep, I can work on it.  It’s the best I can do.

I make one final attempt at communication, finding the two way radio above the dash and picking up the hand link.  “This is Fiona Carmicale, flying on the Leer Jet 564.  We’re down.  Please come in.”

Static.

I take a breath, and try again.  “I repeat, this is Fiona Carmicale, flying on the Leer jet 564. We’re down.  Please come in.”

Just static.

Our communication has obviously been cut off, broken, due to the crash.

For the first time it really hits me that we’re alone, and for the first time since we crashed, my mind floats back to Mackenzie, back at the hospital, without me.  Without the money she needs to survive.

And that's the only reason I start to cry.