Cam and Cort arrived at the hangar to find it mostly deserted. Unlike the day before, there were no planes arriving or departing, and the crew mostly seemed to have the day off.

Two men in blue coveralls stood chatting to one another, eating their lunch. Cort didn’t recognize either of them, but they spotted Cort and Cam right away. One of them, an elderly man with dark eyes and a gap-toothed smile approached them.

“Can I help you gentlemen?” he asked, wiping his hands on a rag.

Cort hesitated for half a second. He didn’t want to call attention to Damon for any reason, he simply needed to have a look around and allow Damon to approach him.

Cam wrapped both hands around Cort’s forearm and leaned against him heavily, giving the mechanic a wide smile. “Oh, perhaps you can help us. We just want to have a quick look around. See, Kenny promised me a plane for my birthday - I’m going to be twenty-seven in October,” he confided in a stage whisper. “And I really think it’s time to upgrade, you know? But I need to see which kind is the prettiest so that Kenny knows what to buy!” He added a bright laugh at the end which was so completely unlike Cam, Cort fought the urge to turn and stare.

The mechanic blinked. He looked at Cort with wide eyes, and Cort shrugged. “If it’s what he wants,” Cort agreed with a shake of his head. “Gotta keep my boy happy.”

“Uh.” The mechanic’s eyes widened as he looked from Cort to Cam. “Well, I guess it’d be alright then,” he agreed grudgingly. “Long as you don’t touch anything or try going inside.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it!” Cam said, making an exaggerated cross over his heart with his index finger.

The mechanic nodded, then turned away shaking his head. “All these crazy rich folks wanna hide out in their planes, ain’t my business,” he muttered to himself.

Cam smiled brilliantly at Cort, who rolled his eyes. “Pick out your plane, darling. Did you want something diamond-encrusted?”

Cam laughed. “Oh, Kenny, that’s sooo last season,” he drawled, laughing even harder when Cort reached over to smack him on the ass.

“Don’t call me Kenny, brat.”

“Don’t call me a brat, Kenny,” Cam retorted, smiling as he maneuvered away from Cort’s reach.

God, the way Cam smiled, all blue eyes and warmth, the way he’d claimed Cort in front of his brother and his friend, the way he gave Cort chance after freakin’ chance…

Cort loved him. How could he not? And he felt like the world’s biggest chicken-shit for not telling him so this morning, for taking the out Cam had given him. He’d known since yesterday afternoon this was more than a passing thing. It was everything. Or it could be, if Cort let it.

He held out his hand for Cam, who grabbed it, letting Cort reel him in closer. “Cam,” he said.

“Cort.”

Behind one of the planes off to the side, someone else spoke up. “Cort.”

Cort blinked, then glanced around.

Holy shit.

“Damon?” he demanded, walking towards his brother’s voice. Cam’s hand squeezed his tightly, whether with nerves or as an offer of support, he wasn’t certain.

Then Damon stepped out from behind the plane and Cort froze.

If not for his hair - long and distinctively gray - and the familiar lines of his face, Cort would not have recognized his brother. He was tall and broad-shouldered, as always, but he walked with a distinct limp now, his right leg dragging somewhat behind him, his forearms crisscrossed by shiny pink scars. His hair was bedraggled and greasy, and his normally clean-shaven jaw sported a scraggly salt-and-pepper beard which aged him far more than his hair ever had. But it was his eyes which truly halted Cort in his tracks. The expressive hazel was now hard and cold, devoid of all the humor and warmth Cort used to see there.

“Cort,” Damon said, making no move to step closer. His shocked gaze moved to Cam, who had halted just behind Cort’s right shoulder, and then back to Cort. “What the fuck is he doing here?”

“He brought me here,” Cort said simply, still drinking in the sight of his brother. “Damon, where have you been? What happened?”

Damon eyed Cort’s right hand, which was still wrapped around Cam’s. He balanced his weight on his left leg and folded his arms across his chest. “I’ll explain later. We don’t have much time. Get rid of him,” he said, nodding at Cam.

Cam tensed, and Cort gripped his fingers more tightly. He shook his head at his brother. “No. Listen, Damon, I have so much to tell you.”

“Jesus, Cort. This isn’t a game!” Damon scowled, glaring at Cam, and then towards the other side of the hangar, where the mechanics were laughing while they sipped their coffee. “Did you not understand all the messages I sent you? You used to be a lot smarter than that.”

Cort blinked in surprise. This wasn’t the happy reunion Cort had imagined. Damon had never spoken like this to him before. What the hell had happened to his brother? There was a hard edge to his own voice when he replied, “I understood, Damon. That’s why I’m here. But you were wrong about some things, too.”

Damon gave a quick shake of his head. “I’m not discussing anything with him around.”

“I’ll go,” Cam offered, but Cort shook his head.

“That’s too bad,” Cort told his brother, when Cam tried to extricate his hand from Cort’s grasp. “He’s with me. We’re together.”

Damon’s lip curled up in a sneer. “With a Seaver? When the fuck did that happen?”

“Sometime between the time you disappeared without a trace and the time I flew here to help you,” Cort retorted. “If I’d had your number, I could’ve called.”

“God, Cort. I thought you, of all people, would know better than to get involved with the likes of him.” He huffed out a breath and his voice became even harder. “Here’s the deal. I don’t trust him. Can I trust you, or was this whole thing for naught?” He threw his hands in the air, encompassing the hangar, the island, and the entirety of whatever plan he’d worked out in his statement.

Cort hesitated, torn. His brother was behaving crazy - one hundred percent ridiculous. He’d expected Damon to listen to him, to give him the benefit of the doubt. To trust him for God’s sake. Combined with all the questions he still had for Damon - like where the hell he’d been, and why he hadn’t contacted Cort directly even once in the last year - he was working his way from merely pissed to truly angry with each passing second.

But was he really willing to walk away without helping Damon? Without finding answers to the questions he had?

Cam cleared his throat and slipped his hand from Cort’s. “I’m going to stand over there,” Cam whispered in his ear, pointing towards the front of the hangar, far away from the mechanics. “And I’m going to pretend to pick out a plane for my birthday. You let me know if you need me.”

“Cam,” Cort said, turning to look at his man. “I don’t want…”

“He’s your brother,” Cam said. He flashed a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I get it. No contest. You can come find me when you’re done, or whatever.” He gave Cort an awkward pat on the shoulder as he moved away.

Shit.

Cort grabbed his hand once again. “Five minutes,” he told Cam firmly, willing him to believe it.

Cam nodded. “Sure.”

Cort could tell that he was anything but sure. Damn Damon, and damn himself for every secret he’d ever kept from Cam. How could he convince Cam he was all-in when he kept acting like he wasn’t? But then Cort glanced back at Damon, at the livid scars on his arms. Whatever had happened to his brother, he couldn’t let him walk away, either.

Cam pulled at his wrist, but Cort didn’t want to let go. “Trust me?” he asked, looking into Cam’s shining blue eyes.

Cam smiled softly, then leaned up and brushed a kiss on Cort’s cheek. “Good luck,” he said, then he walked away without looking back. Cort watched him go. When he’d ducked behind a plane and out of sight, Cort turned back to his brother.

Damon’s sneer was still firmly in place and he was shaking his head at Cort. “He’s playing you and you don’t even realize it.”

“Enough!” Cort said, allowing frustration to color his voice. “I’m here, Damon, because you asked me to be. I blew up my career. I tricked the guy I love. I have done everything you asked me to do. Now you answer my questions. Where the hell have you been?” He took a step closer to his brother. “Why the hell didn’t you call me?”

“Love!” Damon’s eyes goggled and he sneered. “Oh, my God, that’s rich! Does he know? Is that—”

“Answer. My. Questions!” Cort hissed impatiently.

Damon clenched his jaw. “Fine. Where have I been? Well, you might have heard I was a little busy crashing a plane into a mountain. Believe it or not, I didn’t walk away unscathed.” He nodded down at his leg, his arms. “I was in a medically induced coma for a few months.”

Cort rocked back on his heels. “Damon,” he murmured.

Damon shuffled to the side and leaned back against a tall tool chest, grimacing in relief as he took the weight off his injured leg. “After I woke up, I still wasn’t in very good shape. Guy who found me brought me to the hospital, said I was in a car wreck up in the mountains. Guess they never suspected I was the guy on the news. This probably helped,” he said, stroking a hand over his beard. “At first, I had no idea what had happened. I started to piece shit together, a little at a time.”

“Did you think of calling me at any point?” Cort demanded. “Maybe letting me know you were alive?”

Damon shook his head. “I felt guilty, Cort,” he whispered, his eyes to the floor. “I had no idea what had actually happened, but I was the sole survivor of the crash. Those people, the Seavers, were nice. They were decent to me. I figured somehow I’d missed something during the safety check, or maybe I’d been too sleepy to fly. I felt so guilty, I didn’t want to live anymore.” He looked up and caught Cort’s stare. “Until I saw a news interview with John.” His face darkened.

“Jack Peabody, you mean?” Cort asked, and Damon looked surprised. “Yeah, I just heard about him, from Sebastian Seaver.”

“Sebastian? On a first-name basis, are you? You’re, what? A part of their family now?” Damon spat. “Just how deep in their pockets are you?”

“Fuck you,” Cort said, congratulating himself for mostly keeping his temper. “Damon, he wants to find out the truth as badly as you do. I checked up on them, I followed the hints you sent me. I thought at first Cam might have been involved, but he’s not. You have to take my word on that.”

“Here’s what I know, Cort. I wasn’t drinking with Jack, I did the safety check and everything about the plane looked normal. Jack had to have…”

“Sabotaged the plane,” Cort finished. “I know. I believe you. Sebastian believes that too.”

“Sebastian. That asshole would have raised me from the dead and shot me himself if he could have,” Damon said.

Cort leveled a look at his brother. “Can you blame him?” he demanded, taking Sebastian Seaver’s side for possibly the first and only time ever. “What would you have done if an official investigation showed some guy was at fault for killing your parents and your fiancée?”

Damon swallowed and looked away. “Looked like a sign of guilt to me,” Damon declared. “Someone had to have paid Jack. The asshole didn’t work for free.” His voice was bitter.

“Someone paid Jack, but it wasn’t the Seavers. I really believe that,” he told his brother. “Levi Seaver’s will left the company to charity, so Sebastian had no motive, Damon.” Cort frowned. “And how did you know Jack, or John, or whatever the fuck his real name is, in the first place?”

Damon’s cheeks flushed beneath his beard. “We were sleeping together. Had been off and on for a few months before the crash. He works for Senator Shaw, and happened to fly the Senator into my airport when Shaw was visiting family in Boston. He made a joke about the irony of Shaw trusting a gay pilot. Seems so stupid now,” he said bitterly.

“Anyway, we’d been together for maybe two nights right before the crash. Taking time off, he said. We had some wine.” He looked at Cort. “One glass, I swear.”

Cort nodded.

“I fell asleep hard. I don’t know whether I was drugged or what.” Damon sighed. “When I woke up the next day, I was really groggy. Jack offered to help me with the pre-flight check since he’s a pilot himself, and I agreed. But I checked everything myself, anyway. Or I thought I had.” He shook his head angrily. “If Seaver didn’t pay Jack, who did?”

“I don’t know,” Cort said. “But why not at least listen to…”

“Hey, Cortland!”

Damon straightened and Cort craned his neck around to watch Sebastian and Drew jogging toward them. Drew wore his perpetual scowl, while Sebastian looked worried.

“What’s up?” Cort asked Bas. “Did you find Senator Shaw?”

Bas shook his head. “But one of the gardeners saw him headed this way a little while ago, along with his assistant. He’s not here?”

Cort glanced at Damon, who shook his head. “Shaw? Fuck, no. I haven’t seen him, but I’ve been avoiding this place more or less since his plane landed. Jack’s been promoted from pilot to personal assistant, and I don’t want to take any chances he might recognize me.”

“So, you’re Damon Fitzpatrick?” Drew accused. “Back from the dead?”

“Shockingly brilliant and handsome,” Damon sneered. “The girls must love you.”

Drew snorted and glanced around. “Where’s Cam?” he demanded.

“He stepped away to give us some privacy,” Cort said, glaring at his brother. “He’s waiting over there.” He waved a hand toward the front of the hangar, the same direction Sebastian and Drew had come from. “Didn’t you see him?”

Bas shook his head slowly, darting a glance at Drew that made Cort’s pulse skip a beat. “We definitely didn’t see him, and we were looking out for you both.”

Cort glanced toward the other side of the hangar, where the mechanics had been talking, but there was nobody around anymore. Shit.

And then an ominous clanging came from a plane nearby, the unmistakable sound of metal-on-metal.

The four men exchanged glances and, as one, hurried toward the noise.

“Come on, boys!” a voice drawled. “Don’t be shy. The mechanics are having a long, sleepy lunch break on me, and if you’re not over here in one minute, I promise you Cam won’t be either!”

Heart racing, Cort dove around the nearest plane to find Cam caught in a chokehold by Jack Peabody. Jack’s left elbow encircled Cam’s neck, just below his chin, and he was holding Cam up so his toes barely touched the floor. In Jack’s right hand, pressed against the sweaty hair just above Cam’s ear, was a .45 caliber pistol.

“Aw, see that? I knew they’d come for ya, Cam,” Jack sneered, bringing his mouth to Cam’s ear.

Rage, hot and fluid, bubbled up inside Cort as Cam looked at him with wide eyes. “Let him go, Jack,” Cort demanded, just as Sebastian asked, “What do you want? Name your price.”

Jack smiled at Sebastian. “I have all the money I need, friend. What I need now is a way off this island. I saw all the texts you were sending Shaw. Imagine my surprise when I saw you’d pieced together my identity.” He turned to look at Damon. “And imagine my shock when I found you were still alive.” He smiled, a cold and menacing expression. “How are you, lover? You’re looking pretty good for a dead man. I’ve missed you so much.”

Damon’s hands were braced on his hips and his eyes bored into Jack’s. “Fuck you. You set me up back then, and if you think I’m gonna let you get away…”

Cort reached over and hit Damon in the stomach, hard. “Shut the fuck up, Damon.” He turned to Jack. “If you leave now, I’m not going to come after you,” he vowed, deadly serious. “I won’t let anyone come after you.”

“You’re a pilot, from what I understand,” Drew said, almost sounding bored. “You can pick any plane you want from this hangar and leave.” He didn’t even glance in Cam’s direction. His posture was relaxed and almost friendly, and Cort suddenly understood how the sullen man could be such a good attorney. “You can take my mother’s plane and disappear. I promise you, we won’t even report it missing.”

Jack’s eyes crinkled as he chuckled, and Cort thought once again this guy could have been good-looking, if he wasn’t a total psychopath of course. “God, you guys are funny. Take my money, take my plane. Hilarious. Naive and trusting, just like your parents.” He moved his arm, jiggling Cam slightly. “They were saps, too.”

Cam didn’t answer, and Cort realized it was because he couldn’t. His face was turning red as Jack slowly cut off his air supply, and his feet scrambled for purchase against the hard, concrete floor.

“Let him go,” Cort said, stepping forward, “and I’ll go with you.”

Jack turned the gun on Cort. “You back the fuck up right now,” he said. “But that’s sweet, friend. Real sweet. I’m sure your man here really appreciates those heroics.”

Cort took a step back, and Jack returned the gun to Cam’s temple. “Here’s how this is gonna work, boys. I’m gonna take Cam along with me when I leave.” Cort’s heart sank as he stared at Cam, who was clawing at the back of Jack’s forearm.

Cam’s blue eyes were firmly fixed on Cort’s face, as though he was trying to send him a message. I love you, he could hear Cam saying. I love you.

“And now I’m thinking I’ll also take Damon along for the ride.”

Cort’s jaw fell, and he saw Damon’s had, too. “Me?” Damon demanded.

“Yep. If I’m going to keep an eye on my hostage, I’d better have someone else at the controls, and I remember you being an excellent pilot before you had that whole plane crash debacle.” He smiled broadly and nodded at the plane, banging the side of it with the edge of his gun, as though to get their attention. The plane’s clamshell door was open, forming a small set of steps, and Jack began to back towards them. “I already prepped the plane an hour ago. All fueled up. Of course, you’ll have to trust I did the proper checks.” He laughed. “Better than last time, anyway.”

He put his heel to the bottom step, keeping Cam in front of him as a shield. “Cam and I are gonna go up first and you can follow after,” he told Damon. “And you,” he said, exchanging glances with Cort, Drew, and Sebastian. “You won’t alert a single soul, you hear me? Or I’ll kill Cam and tell the authorities it was all his fault for kidnapping us.” He nodded at Damon. “I work for a well-connected Senator, if you recall. And he’ll be none too happy when he finds his plane is gone.” His drawl was smug, but carried a thin thread of wildness to it, like he had been driven to the edge.

That hint of madness caused sweat to dot over Cort’s brow. He’d been in worse situations than this thousands of times, but he’d never been more afraid. He’d honestly never had so much to lose. His eyes were locked on Cam’s as Jack dragged him up the stairs, and he willed Cam to read his mind, to understand all the things he hadn’t said but should have.

“I will not let this happen,” Sebastian said, running at Jack. He hadn’t gone two steps before Jack sent a bullet flying toward Sebastian’s feet that hit the floor inches away. Sebastian stopped in his tracks.

“Stay back,” Jack warned, his eyes glinting.

“I’m not going with you!” Damon called. He folded his arms over his chest and stared at Cam, his jaw working. “This is ridiculous. You’ll kill us both the second we land.”

Jack smiled, a leer which was not even a little sane. “So suspicious, lover. Alright, have it your way. I’ll kill your brother’s boyfriend right now and fly myself out of here.”

He placed the gun more firmly against Cam’s head, and Cort realized the safety was off. Cam’s tear-filled eyes burned into Cort’s, one final I love you, as he struggled against Jack’s choking hold but couldn’t break it. Then Cam squeezed his eyes tightly shut, preparing for the worst.

“No!” Cort cried, taking a step forward. “Cam!”

Damon pushed Cort out of the way, sending him sprawling to the floor. “Fine,” Damon told Jack, rushing toward the steps. “Fine, I’ll fly.”

Jack smiled. “Always so predictable.”

“Jesus! Damon!” Cort cried, pushing himself up on his hands.

Cam opened his eyes as Jack heaved him backwards, and Cort saw Cam try to shake his head, telling Damon to stay back. Damon either didn’t understand or purposely ignored him. He mounted the steps after them and drew up the door.

Belatedly, Cort saw the blocks had already been removed and the plane had been prepped for flight - Jack had obviously been planning for this.

Sebastian ran toward the plane, banging on the door before Cort had even pushed himself to his feet. “No! Cam! Open the goddamn door, Jack! Cam!”

Still, he wasn’t prepared for the way the plane flared to life, the engines firing up while the plane was still in the hangar. He coughed as a storm of dirt and debris whirled around him, tiny shards of stone and sand from the floor pinging against his skin and eyes. He covered his eyes with his forearm.

“He’s insane!” Sebastian yelled. “What the hell is he thinking, starting up inside like this?”

“He’s thinking I would have climbed up the side of the damn plane if he’d waited thirty more seconds,” Cort said, coming to his feet to stand beside Sebastian. Damon quickly guided the plane out the open door of the hangar, barely pausing before picking up speed and taxiing over to the runway.

“Now what?” Drew demanded of no one in particular, throwing his hands in the air. “We can’t call the authorities.”

“The local authorities would know nothing anyway,” Sebastian said, running a hand through his hair. “We need American authorities involved. I’m asking Uncle Shaw to call in a favor.” He panicked for a second. “Unless Jack hurt Shaw, too. Let’s find Lucy, and…”

“No! No, I’ve got this.” Cort licked his lips and pulled his phone from his pocket - not the burner phone Damon had given him, but his space aged, FBI phone, the one with the important phone numbers. “I have someone I can call instead.”

“Hey,” he said into the phone a minute later. “It’s Cort. I need your help.”