"Oh my gods, you're bleeding," Lisha noted urgently and crawled over to Ian's side with an arm clutched to her ribs.

"Yeah, I know, it's chill," he muttered and yanked his sleeve back down before she could get a better look at it.

"What did he do to you?" She asked for the first time. When Ian was first thrown into their cell, she was too preoccupied with the more obvious burns, bruises, and gashes to pay any attention to the clean, well wrapped gauze bandages that covered his arms from wrist to elbow. Yes, she'd noticed them, and they worried her, but they didn't seem to be so important at the time. But now she could see it, even as he tried to hidel it away from her, she could see the blood trickling down from his wrist, causing smears of red to smudge his skin. "What did he do?" She repeated, just above a whisper.

She reached out for him, but he cringed away. "No."

Lisha shrinked back and Michael shuffled to his other side. "Dude, you're bleeding."

"Yah, I know that," Ian spat. "I strained the cuts, is all. Reopened the dàmn wounds. I'm fine."

"Ian," Abbie warned from her corner. "You're about as fine as me and Tony are."

Lisha looked over to the percussionist, who just sulked at his place against the wall. Normally he would have flipped his hair, faked a valley girl accent and, what are you talking about, I'm fabulous'ed his way out of the situation. But he didn't say anything at all and continued to sit in silence with his head hanging and his legs sprawled out. She looked away and chose to ignore his silence.

"Ian..."

"Look, it happened okay?" He glared as if sensing hey protest. "It's not my fault and there's nothing that can be done about it unless we get out of here, and our best chance at doing that is getting you up into that vent, so if you're ready, so am I." He forced himself to his feet and stood looking down at them stubbornly. Somehow, she got the feeling that if they didn't let him help their escape, he would find a way to spiderman on up into the ceiling vent himself.

Lisha sighed in recognition, to which Ian nodded his thanks, then slowly got back to her feet. Michael protested, "Maybe we should all get some rest first. Let it heal a little, and we'll work on this again when we wake up."

"If Ian is going to help you, he should do it now," Abbie said in a way that suggested she speaking to none but herself.

Mike glanced back at her. "What?"

A faint, unreadable smile that Lisha didn't recognize, spread across Abbie's lips, like she was slipping into a ghost of her past that was better left dead and buried. "If he's going to put any strain on deep gashes, it'll hurt less if he does it before they start healing over. Reopening old cuts is much more painful than the original wound." The smile returned. "Trust me."

Once again, Lisha wished that Tony would get out of his self brought silence. He was the only one of them who could  possibly tell Abbie that she was scaring them, and get away with it.

Seriously....he was talking five minutes ago....he was never one with the ability to selectively shut up....

Should she be worried?

But out loud, she said. "Let's get it over with, the sooner we're out, the better."

Michael finally inclined to the fact that he wouldn't win this argument, and also got to his feet. "Let's do it then...... Make sure you keep track of where your are so the police can find us..... Run as fast as you can.... Run like this is the last rep before a water break."  He grabbed her by the shoulders and made sure she was looking into his eyes. Despite their shadows and weariness, they were looking brighter than they've had since they'd been captured. He leaned forward until his lips were almost brushing her ear. "Whatever you do. Don't come back for us. Get. Help."

Lisha nodded.

She put one hand on Michael's shoulder, and the other on Ian's, then jumped up so they could catch her feet in air. They held her from the bottoms of her legs this time, hoisting her up with practiced excellence that comes with the frequent practice of bullshítting through life. The hole where the vent grate used to be was about two by three feet and offered just enough room for her to maybe swing herself up if she was crazy enough.

Gods already knew she was back crap insane.

She took a deep breath, reached to hook her hands over the edge of the hole, then called down to the guys. "On the count to three....like a spring board...down, up, ...if I break my back doing this, I'll blame you guys. Okay?"

"Okay."

"Love you too."

"One," Lisha closed her eyes.

"Two," she opened them.

"Three."

Her stomach dropped down to the mantle as her body tried to figure out the sensations of falling and flying in continuative seconds. Using the momentum like a spring board, she pulled herself up toward the ceiling, and swung her legs upward. For a moment seemed like she was going to miss and topple back to the concrete with a backbreaking snap, but at the last possible millisecond, the big toe on her right foot caught the edge of the hole and after three heart attacks and a near-tragic fainting spell, sha managed to pull herself up into the heating vent with success if not grace.

"Okay...I'm in," she called down to the other.

"Yeah, woo!" Ian and Michael grinned from down on  the floor. "Hurry up about it! I'm ready for a burger and a mint chocolate chip milk shake!"

Lisha ducked her head back into the hole with one final wave and a promise to make the police bring food. Then with a lurch of reality, she turned and started crawling through the vents. If all went well, then by this time the next day, they would all be home in their beds.

Le Author's of Note:

Yap....It's going down. The final countdown. *insert other song lyrics here*

#SaxySaxFish