The journey had been nothing but a big, long blur in which Sam refused to think. So he occupied his brain with useless activities, like counting seats, laying out plan of the airplane and trying to calculate meaningless things like how much the flight costs, the profit it would make, how much food there was on board.

Next to him, Tom was practically a gargoyle, stony and unmoving. They didn't talk. There was nothing to talk about. They didn't sleep. Sam didn't think he could ever sleep again.

When they finally landed in Paris, Sam moved around like a robot, his brain reading, processing, leading him where he needed to go without himself actually being aware of anything. Because the moment the airplane had touched the ground, his gut twisted with a new, horrid fear. When would Tom leave him? When would he set out alone to find Christine?

"There's no use not commuting together," Tom finally said, the moment they grabbed their language. He looked around, frowning, as if searching for something in particular. "Can you speak French?"

Sam shook his head. "Unless you count swearing, not at all."

Tom turned to him, one eyebrow raised. "Swearing?"

"Yeah. Mom swears in French when she gets angry so I sort of picked up a few things. Not that I actually know what they mean, so I don't think I should be using them."

"And Mom swears in French because..."

For a moment guilt overweighed the dread inside him and Sam looked at Tom a little worried. Had it never come up in conversation before? Should they have sat Jimmy and Tom down and given them a family history lesson? But that was their parents' job. Sam had seen their parents talking to Tom and Jimmy a lot, telling them tidbits about the family, but he didn't know exactly how much into detail they went or how much Jimmy and Tom actually knew.

"Mom's half French," he finally said in a low voice.

Tom tilted his head. "I can't for the life of me remember if that was ever mentioned before or not." He shrugged and returned to reading the signs around them.

"I think we should rent a car," Sam said.

"Why? Public transport would be much easier." Tom pointed to a nearby sign. "The train is that way."

Sam didn't want to mention how uncomfortable relying on foreign public transport made him. And not because he was a snotty rich kid, but because he was afraid English signs didn't continue beyond the airport and they'd end up getting lost. They needed a map. But fortunately, he had another, better, argument.

"We don't know the bus routes and taking the subway means we won't get to see what's above and maybe miss something. Also, I think we'd be easier to find and follow if we walk around on the street." And speaking of which, they should get the hell out of the airport. Someone might have been waiting for them.

Tom just watched him, but Sam had a feeling he was squinting behind the sunglasses.

"Are you saying we should go together?"

Ah, crap. For one glorious moment he'd forgotten they had to split up. But Tom was right, there was no point to not commute together. And he could stretch the instructions he'd received. He and Tom were hardly the dream team.

"You're right. There's no point to separate now. We'll do it as soon as we reach the inner city. You have your phone, right? And it's charged."

Tom dug his hand into the pocket of his jacket and pulled out the phone. "Yup. Locked and loaded."

Sam searched for his in the pocket of his own jacket just to make sure, then followed Tom outside the baggage claim area and into Paris. They found a car rental stand relatively fast and managed to get approximate directions to the city center and a map.

Sam got behind the wheel and opened up the map in his lap. Tom leaned over him and raised his sunglasses on top of his head.

"Okay, battle plan..." Sam mumbled, trying to at least figure out where they were. Finally, he saw the airport. "Crap, we're outside the city centre." Though why exactly he was surprised, he didn't know. What city had an airport right in the middle of it? He put his finger on the Roissy-Charles de Gaulle airport.

Tom swore under his breath. "This map is tiny and cluttered."

Sam couldn't agree more, but there was no point complaining. "I think it would be best if we entered the city through the Porte de la Chapelle. Then we'll be able to drive relatively straight until we reach Place du Châtelet. From then on, the Louvre is close by, so are the Pompidou Center and this big hotel. Then, just over the Seine we have Nôtre-Dame. This could be the general area we are looking for."

"Yeah, maybe, Magellan. Let's just go," Tom said taking the map from Sam and folding it.

Sam took off his winter jacket before fastening his seatbelt, then slowly pulled into traffic. Tom took his jacket off too and threw it in the backseat over Sam's before opening the map up again and glaring at it.

Big elaborate snowflakes flew through the air and landed on the windshield. Paris was already covered in snow and it didn't help traffic much. Sam was actually grateful because going slow gave him time to think and pay attention to his surroundings. Not that it did much for him. Everything felt grey and dreary.

Maybe it was the reason they were there, or the crippling fear of what awaited him, but Sam couldn't even start to process that he was in Paris of all places. It felt like someone else was seeing everything, telling him about it. He was somewhere else entirely; somewhere dark and scary, somewhere filled with guilt and regret. And one of the things he regretted most was not giving Christine what she wanted, not making her truly happy. If she was going to die before he reached her, he wouldn't be able to live with himself.

Next to him, Tom heaved a sigh, rubbing his scar viciously.

"You okay?" Sam asked worried. They pulled to a stop in front of a traffic light.

"Yeah, I'm alright. Just a bit of a headache." But he still rubbed the mark cutting into the corner of his right eyebrow.

Sam watched Tom's movements, a sudden ball in the pit of his stomach, because after all these months, he hadn't even asked. It was probably a bad idea now, but anything to take his mind off how useless he was and how he was breaking Snitch Gravel's rules just because he was too much of a coward to let his twin go.

"Look, I've never asked you before, but..." He dug his teeth into his lower lip. "Can you remember anything that happened in the labs?"

Tom hesitated for a moment, but finally answered. "No. And it's really starting to bug me. The snippets I can remember are from the torture itself, and I don't think you're interested in that."

To his shame, Sam had to admit that he was, just the tiniest bit. Because to him it was something that only happened in movies, not in real life, not to his twin. "I'd rather not push you into remembering that. But I sometimes wonder what you knew. What was important enough to warrant this."

"You think I don't? Every time I take a shower and feel the scars on my back I wonder just what the fuck could be important enough to justify this."

Sam bit his tongue and focused on the road again, trying not to feel too guilty for getting into that conversation. The bad part was that, even if he'd been driving straight, he had no idea where they were. And they were running really low on gas, too.

"We should stop somewhere for gas," Tom said, as though reading his mind. "The closer we get to the center, the less likely it is that we'll find a gas station.".

Sam nodded and directed his entire attention to finding a gas station. After driving around and off course a little, they finally found a tiny really expensive one nestled between an apartment building and another tall house which seemed to have been beautiful at some point in its long existence, but was now left nothing but ruins.

Sam climbed down and started pumping gas, watching the numbers roll with impressive speed. Gas was so freaking expensive in Europe. He'd never noticed that before. Not like he'd been pumping a lot of gas on his missions, but still... It felt odd doing mundane stuff like that when his girlfriend could be dead.

A shiver ran down his spine and he put the pump back. He didn't have a lot of cash on him anyway and it's not like he had to fill the tank. So he locked the car and stepped inside the small station building. Tom was there, admiring the candy bar stand. He jumped the moment Sam stopped next to him.

"What are you doing here?" he asked.

"Paying for the gas. It's not free, you know." Sam eyes his twin wearily. "What are you doing here?"

"Getting something to eat. We're already running on fumes."

Sam focused on the candy bar display, and even if he knew Tom was right, the simple thought of eating anything turned his stomach over. But they hadn't eaten in over 24 hours, and they were bound to feel it soon. They needed energy now more than ever. So he grumbled an approval and let Tom pick whatever as he wiatied in line to pay for the gas. Tom soon joined him, his arms laden with bags of chips and snickers bars.

The cashier looked from one to the other, her eyelids dropped with extreme laziness, and finally started typing the products in, all the while watching them. This led to her typing them incorrectly a few times. Sam clenched his fists, fighting the impulse to deploy a few choice words he'd picked up from his mother. But since he had no idea what they meant, he felt it was safer not to.

Finally, after what felt like forever, she put their snacks in a plastic bag and handed it over the counter as though daring them to do anything about it. Tom grabbed it and turned tail, mumbling curses under his breath. With a heavy sigh, Sam followed him outside. The lack of sleep was making him slow and hazy, but he couldn't just pull over and nap while Christine was in danger.

When he reached the car, he noticed that Tom had climbed behind the wheel. Sam didn't mind. He had no idea why he'd done it first. His driving was awful.

"No offense," Tom mumbled the moment Sam climbed in, "but you drive like a granny." He shrugged his jacket off and threw it in the backseat before strapping on his seatbelt.

"Um..." Sam watched him as he took his own jacket off and threw it back. "When did you put on your vest?" Because Tom now wore the multi-slotted bulletproof vest over his t-shirt.

"While you were filling the tank. You should put yours on, too. Who knows if you'll get the chance again?"

"That's unnecessarily apocalyptic," Sam muttered, but pulled the vest out of his rucksack and strapped it on under his long sleeved tee while Tom pulled into traffic. "And I'm not offended about the driving thing. You're right. The faster we get where we need to go, the better."

"Plus you're a much better navigator."

Sam agreed that he'd rather look at maps than drive so he focused on trying to determine where they'd ended up. He finally spotted a blue plate which read Rue du Faubourg Poissonnière. He checked the map and noticed they'd sort of gone off track, but would eventually reach the same place, maybe even pop up a bit closer to the Louvre.

Unfortunately, once he made sure they weren't lost, his brain decided to focus on more depressing things. Like the despair in Christine's voice when they'd spoken, or the fact that he'd be alone soon and he had no idea where to go. Or the fact that she could already be dead. Snitch Gravel had no reason to keep her alive once he was sure he'd driven Sam out and forced him to come to Paris. It's not like he could know and hide or turn back.

No, don't think about that. She's okay. She had to be. Unless someone had seen them and reported he broke the rules. Then Christine's death would be on him. Why hadn't he taken Tom's worries seriously? A boulder dove into the pit of his stomach at the thought. What if Angie wasn't with Christine? What if she was already dead?

He glanced at Tom. His brother had a slight frown on his face, but seemed to be focusing on traffic. Sam fought the impulse to ask him what he was thinking, what he was going to do after they separated. He mumbled something under his breath.

"What?" Sam asked.

"Why couldn't it just happen to me like it usually does," Tom said a little louder.

"Huh?"

"If something bad had to happen, why couldn't it just happen to me? Why did it have to happen to Angie?"

An uncomfortable knot settled in the pit of Sam's stomach and he turned to look out the window. He couldn't answer that, but he had to admit a part of him felt the same. Why did the girls have to get dragged into this? Why couldn't Snitch Gravel be a man and figure out some other way to challenge them?

The traffic finally cleared a bit and Tom sped up and around cars. Sam was both grateful and terrified because the faster they reached the center, the faster he would lose Tom and have to navigate on his own. But it was already getting risky staying together. For all he knew, someone might have seen them at the airport already.

Tom's phone started ringing, jolting him out of his thoughts. He reached back and dug it out of the pocket of his twin's winter jacket. The moment his eyes fell on the display, his heart skipped a beat. He'd expected someone from home. It was a private number.

"Quick!" Sam shoved the phone in Tom's lap. "They might give you information about Angie."

Tom picked it up immediately and answered, his gaze trained on the road ahead. Sam waited, wringing his hands, but Tom wasn't saying anything. Just going pale. He suddenly dropped the phone and placed both hands on the wheel, a look of concentration taking over his features.

"What happened? What did they say?" Sam grabbed the door handle as Tom darted around a car in front of them, not bothering to slow down.

"Did you see that movie Speed?" Tom asked, his voice as blank as his face.

"The one with the bus and the bomb?" Sam asked, not exactly sure why Tom wanted to discuss nineties movies with him.

"Yeah. Apparently the mechanics of wiring a bomb to go off if you slow down are plausible."

"Wha--?"

The car jerked as Tom took another sudden turn to avoid more vehicles.

"So, if I slow down or try to stop the car, it blows up. If I crash it into something, it blows up."

"And why are you so fircking fracking calm about it?" Sam yelled.

"Shush. I need to focus," Tom mumbled.

This couldn't be happening. Sam shut his eyes tightly, but it wasn't going away. Was this punishment for breaking the rules? But he'd rather it was him than Christine. Or maybe they could escape. He had no idea how he could escape this. Traffic wouldn't let them keep going at this speed for much longer. Thank God Tom was driving because he would've crashed it by now. He would've probably crashed the moment he received the news.

Cars kept coming out from side streets, blocking their way. Tom squeezed amazingly well between them, but Sam knew it wouldn't last. Not much longer. And they had nowhere to go, no way to avoid exploding into a big ball of fire and taking innocents along for the ride.

"Tom..." Sam tightened his hold on the door handle, though he had no idea what he wanted to say. "Please don't kill us" sounded very unfitting.

Tom pressed the gas and forced a red light, leaving a chorus of swearing and honking behind. Sam's grip tightened even more on the handle and he pressed his back against the seat. Their strip of road was ending right in the Senne. They had to take either a right or left turn, but Tom only stepped on it, increasing their speed.

"Tom, what are you doing?"

They were going too fast. They wouldn't have time to make the turn. They'd roll over and explode and the Senne was the last thing he was ever going to see.

"Tom!"

"Unlatch your seatbelt," Tom finally said.

The strain in his voice had Sam turning towards him. He'd never seen such focus on his twin's face. Tom's knuckles were white from the force of his grip on the wheel, but other than that, he showed no signs of distress.

"We jump at three."

"We what?" Sam screamed.

"One... two..."

Tom floored the gas. The car hit the curb and flew over it. Over the strip of sidewalk, over the low fence and towards the raging river.

"Three!"

Sam opened the door and more likely let himself tumble out of the car. The cold air bit into his skin, tearing it open while the raging river bubbled under him like lava about to devour him. Except in the split second he spent in the air, he knew the water wouldn't be hot. It would be freezing, knock the life out of him once he landed in it.

He didn't get to. A deafening bang had his ears ringing and a wave of heat pushed him through the air. The grey sky, the water, the snow, it all looked the same as he spun through the air like a rag doll. Sharp pain struck his body, as if a thousand hot needles were poking him at the same time. Then something grey and hard collided with the side of his head and everything dissolved into blackness.

❄❄❄

And I'm back! Hope you had fun with this. I'm really curious to hear your thoughts on what just happened. We're finally in Paris even if shortly before all hell breaks loose.

I'm interested what you think about how Sam and Tom react to the situation they're in. And of course, what do you think will happen next?

Thanks so much for reading and please leave me a vote and comment. I really wanna know how you feel the story is going.