The darkness wasn't warm. And he needed warmth more than anything. Violent shivers ran through his body like frozen ants marching up and down his back, up his arms to the rhythm of the wailing sirens. The sirens that indicated he didn't have much time. And the blackness turned into white. The light brought on a throbbing headache, but he fought it because he had to. He couldn't, wouldn't pass out.

Though it hurt like a bitch, Tom opened his eyes. The world was skewed, some of it a darker shade of white. He could only see snow, but it looked oddly grey, as if he laid in stormy clouds. He blinked and the world came into better focus. He was lying on his stomach, his head turned to the side, and he was staring at the dyke. Of course it looked grey. Snow fell from the sky in thick layers, making it almost impossible to see. The light of day had all but faded into night. A gust of wind blew past him, sending him into a trembling fit.

Sam. Where was Sam? The sound of the sirens became louder and he could hear people shouting and screaming. It was only a matter of time before they came down, found them, took them to a hospital. Started asking questions. That couldn't happen.

Even if he felt like his skin was breaking, Tom brought his hands under him and pushed himself up. His head spun, but he gritted his teeth and brought his feet under him as well, positioning himself into a crouch. Bile rose to his mouth and he dropped back to his knees. Thank God he hadn't eaten anything.

Beating down the sickness, he pushed the sunglasses straight on his nose. It was a miracle they hadn't broken in the fall. They helped with all the whiteness and the pounding in his head subsided for the tiniest bit. It was enough to help him focus.

His eyes scanned the snow at the foot of the dyke and barely managed to catch sight of a colorful lump. He charged that way on all fours, trying to keep as low as his battered body allowed him. He would've gone into full on crawl mode if he thought he could pull it off. As it was, he only had awkward doggy walk.

Tom reached his twin, his gaze fixed on the people at the edge of the river basin, pointing and screaming. Getting out of there was going to be nearly impossible since he was limping like mad and Sam was apparently knocked out. Because Tom was sure he wasn't dead or seriously injured. He could feel it. And it was confirmed once he focused on Sam.

His face was mostly fine except for a few scratches. He did have a lump on the side of his head which was probably the reason for him blacking out. Other than that, scratches, bruises and hopefully, nothing broken. All he had to do was drag him away and hide him... where? He scanned the whiteness, trying to find a hiding place. And he finally saw something promising - a bridge stretching across the river not very far away. It was the only possibility in an otherwise open field.

Tom secured his hold under Sam's arms and heaved. Every muscle in his body protested, but ultimately complied. As fast as possible, he scurried backwards, dragging Sam across the snow, leaving a deep trail behind. Hopefully, the fresh snow falling in abundance from the sky would cover their trail soon enough.

Come on, adrenaline, come on. Do your thing. He shuffled faster until he finally reached the shadow of the bridge. The sound of sirens and screaming was blissfully covered by the flowing river and created a sense of security. If he couldn't see and hear the people, then maybe they wouldn't be seen or heard either.

He dropped Sam on a patch of ground with less snow and checked his pulse. It was there, slow but steady. Tom proceeded to check every other wound he could see on Sam, but apart from scratches and minor burns, the bump on the head was the biggest issue. That and the fact they might freeze to death if they didn't move their asses soon.

"Sam," Tom mumbled, shaking him as gently as possible. "Come on, Sam. I need your big brain." A harder shake and slap across the face did the trick.

Sam jumped into a sitting position and, as if someone had turned on a switch, started trembling. "What happened?" he asked between chattering teeth.

Tom bit back his smartass remark and focused on the water raging under the bridge. The snow storm had picked up and it felt like white curtains draped the side of the bridge, isolating them from the rest of the world. Fortunately, it created a mild illusion of warmth that kept him from joining Sam in his trembling fit. Though he was pretty sure it was his body just being numb from the cold.

"The car blew up," he answered blankly.

Sam gawked at him, but the surprise wore off quickly just to be replaced by heartbreaking sadness. He wrapped his arms around himself and glanced at the flowing river. "Our luggage. It's gone, isn't it?"

"Yup." Tom hadn't even thought about it, but it was a huge problem, especially as far as freezing to death was concerned. "It's just us and whatever we're carrying."

Sam nodded, his gaze still lost amongst the chunks of ice floating downstream. "Do you think they'll hurt the girls?"

"I hope they think we're dead. That way, they won't have any reason to hurt the girls."

"Trust me, at this point no one will think we're dead anymore. Not after we proved them wrong so many times." Sam finally turned to him, the concern in his eyes devastating. "What are we going to do?"

"You're seriously asking me that? You're the brain."

Sam shook his head and looked away, rubbing himself more viciously. "We need to get out of the cold. I can't think like this. Plus we'll get hypothermia or pneumonia or any other disease that ends in 'ia'."

Even if not a real solution, Tom had to agree. They needed to get out of the cold and they needed food and shelter. His survival instinct kicked it, sending his mind buzzing with a dreaded possibility because they were in Paris after all. Except this possibility felt like a long distant dream and could get them killed. Bottom line was, Sam was right. They had to get out of there.

"Follow me." Tom got to his feet and reached out his hand.

Sam grabbed on to it and let Tom help him up. It was harder than Tom had thought, but they both managed to stand without falling or cracking like ice sculptures. The bluish tinge to Sam's skin couldn't be healthy, and he bet he didn't look any better, especially because he was actually wearing a t-shirt.

Tom headed for the foot of the bridge and scanned the area. there was an iron ladder there, probably meant for emergencies. He grabbed on to it and started climbing. The moment his head almost cleared the dyke, he stopped. The sound of the sirens was gone, but he could see blue and red light dancing on the snow. They hadn't gone too far from the crash site.

Taking in a deep breath, he raised his head and took a peek. Police cars, ambulances and a fire truck were stationed to the left, where the sidewalk showed signs of damage from the exploding car. People were starting to go down, most likely to look for any survivors. They had to get the hell out of there.

He scanned the street for a hiding place and his stomach jolted the moment he saw the ornate roof of what looked very much like a subway station. Subway meant warmth. It also meant a crowd they could lose themselves in. He motioned for Sam to follow and scurried to the side of the bridge, hiding under its shadow. The heavy snow and descending darkness made it much easier to hide.

Sam caught up, moving much too slow and clumsy for Tom's liking. Tom grabbed his arm and pulled him across the street and down the stairs into the underground, trying to focus on that little milestone, not wonder where they'd go from there. Sam followed obediently, letting out a satisfied sigh once a gust of hot air hit them at the entrance.

A knot forming in his stomach, Tom hurried down the steps and charged through the crowd towards the exits from the station. He pushed past the incoming people and slid through before the transparent plastic doors could close. Sam remained on the other side, staring at him with wide eyes.

Praying his twin wouldn't stupidly freeze because of the illegality of the situation, Tom stepped towards the doors and opened them. "Come on."

Sam hesitated, his eyes flying towards the ticket booth on the other side of the entrance hall.

"Sam," Tom hissed, glancing over his shoulder for any sign of guards.

Sam finally moved his ass and slid through as well then followed Tom down another set of steps towards the platform. White brick walls reflected the light, escalating Tom's headache. The train came swishing into the station, sending more horrible echoing noise inside his head. Most of the people on the platform climbed aboard while a sea of commuters climbed down.

Tom dropped on a newly vacated plastic seat and leaned his head back against the wall. Sam sat beside him, eying the crowd warily, showing a lot more common sense by scanning for potential followers.

"Everyone is staring at us," he whispered.

"Probably because we're a pair of identical twins who look like they've just come out of an explosion."

Sam huffed, but snuffed the little show of amusement in the bud and returned to scanning the crowd with careful eyes.

Tom just closed his, focusing on the warmth slowly seeping through his skin and the pain left in the wake of fading adrenaline. Burns, scratches, bruises, each one more uncomfortable than the last. But nothing was more annoying and uncomfortable than the desperate thought forming inside his head. Sam had better come up with a solution, because he'd already thought of something and Sam wouldn't like it. Hell, Tom didn't like it and it was his idea.

"We have to go to the police," Sam mumbled.

Tom turned to him so fast, he could swear his brain hit his skull a little too hard. "What? Are you crazy? And tell them what? That we're carrying guns and bombs for self defense? And in what language would we even explain that?"

"Come on, they must know English. Or the US Embassy then."

"Now there's a great idea." Tom tried to keep the sarcasm out of his voice, but Sam wasn't helping. "Except for one minor drawback. It's the first place Snitch Gravel's men will look for us because that's where they'd expect us to go."

"You come up with something better," Sam mumbled, slouching in his seat.

Tom wished he could come up with something better, but what he had was worse. Much worse. Though it couldn't be that bad. It was food, it was shelter, it was potential ammo. It was also a good chance someone would get shot. Probably Sam. So he just stayed quiet instead, watching the coming and going trains, ignoring all the commuters staring them down. His entire mind had filled with a mantra of Please, Sam, think of something.

Instead, Sam reached out and yanked something out of his forearm. He sucked air through his teeth and hopped back. Sam held a bloody shard of glass.

"Thanks," Tom muttered, trying to ignore his impulse to lick the wound.

Sam stood and took the shard to a nearby trash can. Tom rolled his eyes at the goody-two-shoes attitude, but was glad to see the focus building on his twin's face as he made his way back to their seats.

"Let's see where we stand." Sam looked around to make sure they were mostly alone, then started searching his pockets.

He pulled out a crumpled bill, then took off his long sleeved tee to reveal his slotted vest. As he started searching his pockets, Tom prayed he wouldn't pull guns out and start waving them around a subway station. Fortunately, he did not and continued doing his silent counting.

"I have my gun, two gas bombs, a smoke bomb, a flashbang and two ammo cartridges. And the magnet."

Tom starting searching his own pockets. "About the same for me. And..." He lay down a ten dollar bill over Sam's. It felt strange to just have ten dollars lying around in his pockets. Seven months ago ten dollars would've been a small fortune.

"Great. We have guns, bombs and fifteen dollars," Sam muttered. "Which is about what? Thirteen Euro?"

"Maybe twelve. And you wanted to buy subway tickets."

"I just don't like breaking the law. We'll have to find a way to survive with twelve Euro."

Tom let out a bitter laugh. "We're going to die with twelve Euro."

"No kidding." Sam turned away and rubbed his arms. He winced when he touched a scratch or a burn and stopped. At least his skin had a healthy color and they didn't die of frostbite. "What are we going to do? How are we going to rescue the girls when we can't even save ourselves."

The thought had Tom bristling. Sam was being an idiot. "We're not going to die, you overdramatic brat."

"Yeah? Then do explain how we'll survive the weather and the lack of food and water."

"It's not like we're in the middle of nowhere."

"Yeah, we're in the middle of Paris with people out there waiting for us to poke our heads off so they can snuff us out."

Damn. Sam did have a point about that. And it wasn't just that, but Angie and Christine being in danger and them not having the means to find them and rescue them. It pushed him over the edge into the mouth of what he'd been so desperately trying to avoid. But Sam's discomfort couldn't come over Angie's safety. Nothing could trump that, not even his own life, as dramatic as it sounded. Plus, Mizrelle wouldn't kill him. He was eighty percent sure about that.

❄❄❄

W

hat is this? A wild update? I know it took a while but I've been lacking writing time lately. But since this chapter is huge I actually have one more part for it. I'll probably end up splitting it.

So... thoughts? Feelings? Ideas? Something?

Some people might recognize a certain someone in this part but I doubt many will 😅 Still hoping.

Don't forget to vote and maybe leave me a comment. I need writing juice!