I didn't realize I'd fallen asleep until I woke up the next morning, pale light streaming into the mine's opening. I was warm, but it wasn't the inconsistent warmth of a fire. Carefully, I turned my head, the tight skin around the burn stretching and crackling. 

Shane had wrapped himself around me, his chin resting against my good shoulder, face buried in the hair that flowed over the side of my neck. Briefly I wondered how he hadn't smothered himself to death sleeping like that, then I wondered when they had returned.

I sighed, and he whispered, "I'm sorry."

With a frown, I asked, "What?"

"I couldn't find them," he explained, pressing his face harder into my neck.

I swallowed hard when I felt him shudder as he held his breath. Voice cracking a little, he said, "I couldn't find them."

"It's a new day, Shane," I whispered, wanting to touch him, but my hand was trapped between us.

"They aren't here, Raleigh," he said raggedly. "Danielle wouldn't have stayed if she thought we were dead."

"Do you think she would believe that?"

He shrugged. "I would, if I were her."

"Did you think Kyle was dead?" I asked softly.

Shane didn't answer for a long time, then he said, "What does that have to do with anything?"

"You tell me." I wished he would look at me. Softly, I continued, "I never had a sibling, Shane. But you tell me why you knew Kyle hadn't been killed."

He was silent for another long stretch of time. "Because it didn't feel like he was dead."

"Sacha doesn't seem to think she's dead."

"She isn't," a voice growled and Shane's head came off my shoulder. I turned my head again, but all I could see was Sacha's boots. "She's not dead."

Shane scrubbed a hand over the back of his head, then stood up too, and I grimaced when I couldn't see either of their faces now. He took a step closer to Sacha, who didn't back up and then Shane said, "Okay."

There was a pause, and I got the distinct feeling that they were both looking down at me. I closed my eyes, my back aching more and more as the minutes ticked past, then Shane said, "Raleigh needs help too, Sach."

"So help her," Sacha shouted. "You're just too afraid to do it!"

"Sacha!" I hissed in shock, but apparently the kid had hit his boiling point.

"She needed you here but instead you were fucking out there, going around in circles. How could you leave her? How could you let yourselves be separated! Why did you leave?"

I lunged to an upright position then fought the sick, trembling feeling that gave me. I opened my mouth, then stopped when I saw Sacha. He was milk-white, shaking, with tears running down his face.

Hoarsely, he screamed, "This happened because of you! Because you left! If she dies, that's your fault, too!"

Then suddenly Sacha was being hauled backwards by the collar of his shirt. Kyle was the one doing the dragging.

Sacha screamed, "This is because of you, Shane! We should never have gone there. It's your fault!"

And Shane just stood there and took it. He didn't move a muscle until Kyle had removed Sacha and then he dropped into a crouch, his face in his hands. Quietly, Cas and Lauren left as well, and I watched as Shane dropped to his knees.

His body quaked as he fought for control, and I crawled over to him, resisting the urge to stop and throw up. I placed a hand on each of his curled in shoulders and pressed them back before collapsing into his chest.

Automatically Shane's arm wrapped around my waist, and he buried his face in the side of my neck. A choked on sound came from deep in his throat, and I could have killed Sacha if he'd still been there. Shane clung tighter to me as he shook harder, holding his breath.

"He's upset," I whispered. "He didn't mean it."

Shane jerked away from me, then had to catch me when I fell forward. Gently, he set me back and I hugged that red hoodie to me, shivering again. His eyes were shattered, red-rimmed and empty. He shook his head, and rocking forward slightly, he said, "It's my fault."

It was like listening to an echo and it scared me badly. His hand accidentally brushed the edge of the burn and I shrieked, biting my lip until I drew blood to try and stop the sound. Shane tried to pull away again but I wouldn't let him. Trying to get him to check back in, I slapped my hand lightly against the side of his face.

Shane blinked, then he blinked again, then he shook his head hard. I sighed in relief when he was able to focus on me. His gaze zeroed in on my mouth and he swiped a finger just under my lip, wiping away the blood.

"Shane" I said fiercely—well, as fiercely as was possible, given the circumstances. "This was Justin. None of this was you. Do you understand?"

He didn't immediately answer and my fingers dug into the side of his face, making him flinch a little. I growled, "Do you understand?"

He blinked, then looked away, then back. Quietly, he said, "Don't you understand? It's always my fault. Always. And it always has been."

I jumped when Kyle said, "Oh, for fuck's sake. No it isn't, goddammit."

I turned to find Kyle with an expression that could have frozen hellfire. He stalked forward and wrenched Shane to his feet, making me sway slightly. Kyle shook him, fingers gripping the collar of his jacket. When Shane was well and truly looking at him, he hissed, "It's not all about you, Shane. You don't have to bear every fucking cross that comes along."

He turned, throwing Shane towards the entrance to the mine. Shane stumbled, having to catch himself on the wall before he turned slowly. Kyle rolled his shoulders, like he was expecting a fight, but that never happened.

Shane looked at me. Voice empty, he asked, "What do you need to fix that?"

He gestured to his shoulder, indicating my own and I stuttered, "U-um, probably some kind of saline. Eye drops will work. Something really sharp, anything and everything antibiotic and if you can find it non-stick, sterile bandages."

Shane nodded once then he just... left. I made a sound like a kicked dog, and tried to stand but couldn't quite manage it. Kyle hurried over and made me lay back down. He tucked a loose strand of hair back and kissed my forehead before muttering, "I'll make sure he doesn't get his stupid ass dead."

I just turned my face, suddenly furious beyond words. At Shane, Kyle, Sacha, every goddamn one of them. For scaring me, for being able to snap Shane out of it, for snapping Shane to begin with. I was angry at them for something none of them had any control of.

Kyle left and I heard as two others came back in. Quietly, Lauren said, "Are you hungry?"

"I thought we didn't have anything?"

"We found a little last night." This was Sacha's scratchy voice, and it was incredibly tentative.

I didn't move. I couldn't look at him right now. Answering Lauren, I said, "No. I'm not."

I lay still, trying to will myself back to sleep. But I couldn't quite manage it today. I was worried and I hurt. God I hurt. 

That was something that had always astonished me, the intricacy of nerves running messages back and forth between your body and your brain, especially concerning pain. I could never figure out why, eventually, your brain doesn't just flip the dimmer switch. Why it doesn't say: okay nerves, I understand, we are injured and in pain, thanks for your time.

I get it, truly I do. Pain isn't actually a bad thing. For the most part it keeps you from hurting yourself more. Sometimes the mere promise of pain can prevent you from doing something stupid and getting yourself hurt to begin with. Pain keeps our dumb asses on the sidelines until we can heal up.

But I had no plans to do anything but lay there, so I didn't really see the point. I had an extreme problem with the physiology of pain for the given moment.

They got back again late that night. Both Lauren and Sacha had driven me crazy for that time we had been alone. As soon as we had heard the soft whistle signalling that they had returned, Lauren had jumped to her feet and run out to meet them, and Sacha had slunk off toward one of the darker corners. Part of me wanted to snap that if he was going to dish it out, then he needed to be able to take it. The other half couldn't seem to find the energy.

Shane came in looking like he was about to storm the beaches of Normandy. Or... I guess Iwo Jima would be more accurate, wouldn't it? He had a bunch of stuff in his hands and he set it all down in a neat, orderly row next to me.

I watched in consternation as he rolled up the sleeves of his long shirt, then poured rubbing alcohol over his skin, up to his elbows, scrubbing hard. My stomach rolled as I realized what he was preparing to do and I tried to bunch up protectively, but the burn wouldn't let me.

When Shane was done, he spat out, "You're going to have to walk me through."

He held his hands over the skin of my back and I shuddered and gasped, "Spray it with the saline. Knock away anything loose or dead. Dirt, skin. Don't stop until it's gone or if I stop screaming."

Shane faltered at that and I explained, "If I stop screaming it's probably because I've gone into shock and my heart is trying to stop."

When he still didn't move, I looked up to find him obviously rethinking this. Quietly, I said, "Please Shane. Better you than anyone else."

He muttered, "That's supposed to be my line." After another deep breath, he said, "Cas, you better take Lauren and Sacha and make sure we don't get a surprise of the undead variety while we're takin' care of this."

I snorted then buried my face in the crook of my arm, trying to force my breathing into a steady pattern. I flinched when cold hands pressed into my good shoulder and the middle of my back. Kyle said, "Go."

Then I was burning again.

Starting at the top of my shoulder, in short bursts, Shane blasted away the loose, dead debris away with the stream of saline. At first,  I tried to keep the screams to a minimum, but eventually it just wasn't anything I could care about. 

It felt like he was spraying lava on it instead of salty water. I forced myself to stay as still as I could, Kyle doing the rest of the work whenever my body tried to roll away from Shane of its own accord.

Later Shane said it took about thirty minutes. Could have fooled me. I would have sworn it took two hours.

By the time it was done, I was worn down to nothing. Even breathing seemed to take a lot of effort. Tears streaked sideways down my face, clinging to my eyelashes. I was trembling and couldn't seem to control this terrible little whimpering noise that would escape my throat every few seconds.

Shane set the used bottle of saline down and hoarsely demanded, "Next?"

"G-give me... a second," I stuttered, still twitching, my breath coming in jerky little gasps that shook my body. My heart pounded hard and fast through my ribcage. I could feel every surge of blood through my veins.

I inhaled, exhaled. I did it again, then again. Trying to slow it down, trying to gain some semblance of control. Spots danced in my vision and I inhaled again, willing them to go away.

When they had, and I wasn't shaking so hard, I whispered, "Cut away the black skin. It's dead, trim it down as close to pink tissue as you can get."

Once more, Kyle's hands pressed me into the dirt, and Shane took in a deep breath. I felt a gentle tugging sensation on my shoulder, interspersed by a sudden bite every now and then. This was nothing compared to cleaning the burn. It was like getting a paper cut.

Shane would swear every time he cut and I tried not to flinch too hard when he ended up cutting into skin that was still alive. That would heal back. As much as I didn't appreciate the cuts, I knew it was better to err on the side of caution and cut the black away completely, even if that meant live tissue had to go with it.

"Fuck, Raleigh, I'm sorry!" Shane hissed suddenly and I frowned.

"What?" I asked, turning my head to find myself looking at his knee.

There was a long pause, then Kyle said, "He just smacked the white spot with the edge of the scissors. His hand slipped. You didn't feel that?"

I shook my head and mumbled, "Nerves are destroyed. It's just everything around that white spot that hurts. I'm not surprised."

A grim silence followed my words, then Shane went back to work. Still can't feel that spot on my back, just in case you're curious.

My eyes were trying to shut when Shane coughed, then said, "That's done."

I shivered when I felt a trickle of blood slide down the side of my ribcage. Shane wiped it away, and my teeth chattered. Doing my best not to bite off my tongue, my words sounding thick and clumsy, I said, "Okay, what d-do you have left?"

Shane coughed again, then said, "Peroxide—"

"No," I whispered. "That'll just sear the tissue and keep it from healing."

Shane was silent, then he said, "I didn't both with ointments. I happen to know you aren't supposed to put those on burns this fresh."

A small laugh somehow got past my clenched teeth as I realized that Shane might possibly know more about treating a burn wound than I did. He shook something in front of my face and it took a long time before my eyes could focus.

He said, "I think they might be for strep, but antibiotic is antibiotic right?"

"Something's better than nothing," I muttered and he snorted.

Still speaking in a low tone, he said, "I found Vicodin. I think you need to take it."

It was so, so tempting. That would take away everything, not just the pain. But if something happened, I would be too out of it to be of any use. In fact, I'd be a liability.

Shane threatened, "Don't make me slip this to you. I wouldn't like the feeling."

Now I choked on a laugh and finally just nodded, too tired to really argue. Apparently, I had been hurting just long enough that I really couldn't bring myself to try and tough it out anymore. Besides, feeling the pain can actually hamper your body's repair efforts.

Being in pain releases all sorts of stress hormones, which actually break down tissue. Stupid right?

Sorry, like I said, I had a lot of time to try and riddle out how pain works.

I told him, "If you have any clean cloth, even just clean cotton sheets or anything like that, just kind of drape it over the top of the burn. Don't pat it down, otherwise when you have to change it you'll just tear away anything that's managed to grow. We'll worry about it more after I've been able to sleep and can really think."

Even without the meds I was feeling fuzzy. Honestly, I was surprised I was able to string a damn sentence together into anything even remotely coherent.

Shane did as I asked, I took the pills like he asked, then I was gone.

Everything but dead to the world.

I didn't even dream with narcotics running through my veins making everything blunt. I did come to an uneasy understanding about why people would sell their mother for those things, though. That I didn't like.

I spent the next probably week just swimming in and out of consciousness. I'm sure that thing got cleaned again more than once. I ate when I was fully awake, which didn't feel like it was very often. But it must have been enough.

Time is such a tenuous thing. It's slippery and unreal. To me, those days spent in a haze of trying to heal, felt a little longer than three days altogether. Shane always claims that, for him, it was a Hell Week. Seven whole days spent in that in-between. That grey island between true sleep and actual wakefulness. I hated feeling like I'd lost time.

And that wasn't even because of the drugs. Shane said he only gave me about two more doses. I guess my body had just called it quits for the moment. It had to happen eventually.

When I woke up for real, it was the middle of the day. I seemed to be by myself, but knew that was most likely the farthest thing from the truth there was. My mouth felt like I'd been chewing on cotton for two straight days and I felt very weak. Diminished, somehow. Small.

I was thirsty.

I turned my head and found Cassidy hurrying toward me from the mouth of the cave. Softly, she said, "Hey."

I tried to speak, but my mouth wouldn't cooperate. She seemed to understand and said, "Let me get you something to drink, okay?"

I nodded with a sigh and shut my eyes, trying to feel the burn, since I couldn't see it.

It was hurting again. But it wasn't as bad as it had been. At least, I didn't think it was. More than anything I wanted to actually assess that sucker for myself, but I didn't actually see it until probably a month after I got it. That was probably a good thing though.

Honestly, every time I see it, I'm amazed that I'm here talking to you. Burns were tricky before. Here and now, they should have been a death sentence. I never could figure out why I survived or even how. Danielle likes to call it a miracle.

Secretly, I like to think she's right. I just don't know if I deserve it.

After that, I had a hard time understanding why I got to live and others had to die. I didn't understand the math and it was something I struggled with. I don't know if that counts as survivor's guilt, but that's the only word I can find to describe how I felt. 

Danielle also tells me I should never look a gift horse in the mouth.

On both counts she's probably right.

Cassidy came back with the water and helped me sit up. I drank slowly, not wanting to make myself sick, then I croaked, "Where are the others?"

"Looking," she said quietly. Staring at her, I had to wonder when those lines around her eyes had made an appearance. I didn't think they'd been there when we first met her.

I nodded my head, then jumped when my stomach growled. It sounded like a tiny, ferocious animal had taken up residence just under my ribcage.

Then I couldn't help but laugh. It felt like it had been a long time since I'd been actually hungry.

Cassidy handed me a couple of stale crackers, and I nibbled on them while she gave me a rundown of what had happened while I'd been in Wonderland.

The most exciting thing was that Kyle had seen something sparkling in a tree.

It had been Danielle's golden necklace.

Sounds scary, right? Or not very promising.

The exciting part was that it was in a trail tree. 

See, way back in the day, Native Americans would bend young saplings so that they would grow pointing in a certain direction. They used them as guide posts and trail markers.

This one pointed exactly due north.

Danny had found a way to tell us where they had been heading. Crazy right? It's possible that that necklace could have remained undiscovered for forever. But it didn't. Maybe she isn't so off about the miracles thing.

Then again, someone with her faith in this world deserves a damn miracle.

So as soon as I could manage to find my feet, we were going to actually start heading north. Cas told me Shane had made a couple loops up that direction, but he hadn't ever wanted to get too far away.

Of course, that immediately sparked guilt in the pit of my stomach. Then my back reminded me that it wasn't exactly my fault.

That never seems to make it any better though, does it?

She ended with, "On the bright side, I think you might actually be getting better."

I raised an eyebrow, still eating. She shrugged and said, "It just doesn't look as angry anymore. We've kept it clean and it isn't bleeding anymore. You still don't have any skin that we can see, but it just looks better."

I couldn't decide if she was trying to convince me, or if she was trying to convince herself. It was still something that was impossible. The idea of recovering seemed a little far-fetched.

Eventually, I fell asleep again, still exhausted. I sort of woke up when the others got back, but only enough to turn my head away and fall back asleep.

But this sleep was different somehow. Cleaner. Clearer. Like I was in control of it, not like it was dominating me. My grandma would have called it a healing sleep, which seemed pretty appropriate.

I'll try not to bore you anymore with how incredible not dying was. It's just a memory I like to linger over.

Because the things that happened next were horrible.

We got two more days. Two more nice days where I could sit up. I could finally put on at least a tank top which was probably a relief to everyone, not just me. Just because we are completely comfortable around one another doesn't mean we need to be completely comfortable. Shane and Sacha still weren't talking but I couldn't fight that battle. We had a direction again.

The last day we stayed there, I woke up to a chatter of gunfire.

I was alone in the cave, one final time.

I sat up just in time for Justin's voice to reach my ears. It was asking for me, after all.

"Where's your bitch wife?"