By the end of the second day, Mad was miserable. Any exposed skin had been sunburned so he was a patchwork of red and white thanks to the holes in his shirt.

He had been poked so many times getting through the vegetation, making some parts of his hands raw to the point that they wouldn't stop bleeding.

Mad didn't even want to think about his back. It hurt constantly now, and he swore he could feel each and every stitch. It was inflamed and burned with an internal heat he knew was a bad sign. They had run out of the numbing gel plant earlier this morning and it didn't grow this far in-land.

Killian wasn't much better. He was sunburned too, had the same problem Mad did with the plants and, just because that didn't seem to be enough, he'd managed to twist his ankle, tearing up the skin on his hands sliding down a hill of loose, slate-like rock.

All of that on top of about three hours of sleep apiece and even less water, which was now completely gone.

The sun was starting to sink and they were both stumbling.

Mad had insisted on helping Killian walk, half carrying him to try and spare the injured ankle. He wanted to scream each time Killian's weight rested on his shoulders, his arm brushing some of the Jabberwock scratch.

"Wait, stop. Stop here," Killian gasped and Mad helped him sit on a low rock. He swore when Mad accidentally bumped his ankle.

"Why are we stopping?" Mad asked before sitting gingerly next to the Spade.

"I recognize this," Killian said, breathing had. "We're there. The tunnel is just over this hill, more or less." 

"I feel like there's a 'but' coming up." Mad squinted against the sun beating unmercifully down on them.

"But you're not gonna like how we have to get there." Killian grimaced and the movement caused the skin on his lips to crack, a little blood beading there.

Mad closed his eyes briefly. "Jabberwock?"

The kid nodded, wincing when the burnt skin of his neck rubbed against the collar of his shirt. "Yeah. We gotta go through the valley again."

"Well," Mad sighed, "hell."

Killian was listing to the side a little and muttered, "I would just take the long way around, but I don't think I've got it in me."

"Maybe you aren't as stupid as I thought," he muttered.

Killian laughed, then said, "We need to get it done."

"Okay."

Neither of them moved and now Mad laughed. "Maybe we just give it a minute?"

"That's the smartest thing I've heard you say," Killian said, his words slurring a little.

Mad's eyes started to droop and knew he was about done in. "Killian."

No answer.

"Killian, we've got to move." He looked over to find Killian had fallen asleep. Mad reached out to him but overbalanced, falling to the side himself.

He lay there, just breathing in and out, neaely choking on the scorching air. He was tired. Bone deep tired. Not just from these past two days but from everything. They were just the last straw.

It was the same kind of tired he'd felt after coming back home from the war.

'Mad,' Gene's voice whispered. 'Mad, you gotta get up.'

Mad closed his eyes.

'No, Mad.' Gene's voice was a little louder. 'Not okay, lay down. Okay, get up.'

"No, Gene. No. I'm... I'm just tired. I'm tired, Gene." Mad felt himself slipping further toward sleep.

"Killian," he tried one more time. He wasn't even sure he actually said the word out loud. At the very back of his mind, Mad knew he couldn't quit. There was still so much to do.

He sighed, stirring when it pulled at his back. Everything he still needed to accomplish just pulled him down further into weariness.

'What about Alice?' Gene whispered. 'Forget the other stuff. What about Alice?'

Mad's eyes flew open and he lurched to a sitting position. Forcing himself to his feet, he almost fell over again, pulling Killian up. "Come on, kid."

Mad put Killian's arm over his shoulders again, making him cry out when it jostled his ankle. His head lolled to the side and his eyes fluttered. He put a hand to Killian's forehead. It felt like it was burning, but he couldn't tell if that was from a fever or from sunburn.

Killian tried to stand, but his muscles wouldn't cooperate. He was barely conscious and Mad thought it might be sunstroke. He'd seen enough people suffer from it in the POW camp.

"Come on, Killian. Just a little more." Mad laughed, hauling Killian along with him, weaving back and forth as the earth seemed to sway in front of him. "Then we can get some more of that God-awful rotgut you call a drink."

Mad stopped when they got around to the west side of the slope. Heat waves shimmered and danced in the valley, making his vision blurry. He blinked and tried to wipe the sweat from his eyes, watching for movement anywhere up the valley.

The dry, rocky hills forming the valley seemed to soar upward, turning into towering mountains that touched the heat-bleached sky. The pale earth caught the sun's rays, throwing the brightness into Mad's eyes, making it hard to see the Jabber caves.

The last thing he needed was to tangle with another Jabberwock. He jumped when Killian muttered something and watched as his eyes shifted back and forth under his eyelids. 

Mad wondered what he was dreaming about.

He stood there for another minute, just watching the tunnels. Finally, he couldn't stay still any longer. They would either cross this valley or they wouldn't. 

There wasn't much between those two options and Mad was done waiting.

He started walking, blood from Killian's hand dripping down his arm. The heat was oppressive, the air so thick that he could hardly breathe. Killian got heavier as they progressed, and Mad could feel the muscles in his legs cramping and shaking. His mouth was dry and his head pounded from dehydration.

He cursed every time he kicked a stone, sending it clattering against the rocky ground. The sound seemed magnified, but he couldn't tell if it was really that loud or if he was just delirious.

Killian muttered something again and his head lolled to the side, his charcoal hair flopping over into his face. Mad looked over and just about dropped the Viso because of what he saw. There on Killian's neck was his rank mark.

He wasn't an Ace.

He wasn't a Jack.

Mad stood in shock for a moment, then struggled into the shadows of a clump of Needle Trees nestled up against the base of one of the hills. He set Killian down before pulling his collar to the side to make sure he was truly seeing what he thought he was seeing.

There, startlingly black against the pale skin of his neck, was the rank of King.

Killian was the Spade King.

Mad stared at the stylized shape of the spade, intricate, delicate designs surrounding the K in the middle.

"Good God," he whispered, sitting back, staring at the black mark that was telling him something he had thought impossible. "You're supposed to be dead."

Killian's breath was rapid and shallow as his lungs battled to pull in the thick air. He was probably even more dehydrated than Mad after his bout with the seawater.

Mad took his hat off, wiping the sweat from his forehead. The extra weight of knowing who Killian was settled over him like a lead blanket, and he suddenly knew how important it was to get Killian out of here alive.

He stood and swayed, catching himself from falling on a nearby Needle Tree. He frowned, looking down at the needles in his hand. He tried pulling them out, but his fingers felt stiff and all he managed to do was seemingly shove them in further.

Looking up, he estimated that they had only managed to make it about halfway down the long valley. Only halfway to the tunnel he had left Alice and Cheshire in.

He stood there for a long moment, his mind blank. Then, he made the mistake of trying to pull Killian to his feet again. Mad cried out as some of the stitches finally popped, blood seeping slick and warm down his back. He dropped to a knee, blinking away the spots in his vision that accompanied the pain.

Shaking his head, trying to clear it, he stared at Killian. He wrestled with his brain, trying to come up with something, anything he could do that wouldn't end with both of them dying out here and getting eaten by Jabberwocks.

He wasn't going to be able to carry Killian the rest of the way, as much as he hated to admit it. He was just too drained. Mad looked back at where Killian lay.

Then, his field of vision seemed to widen and Mad was given a sudden solution. He hadn't noticed before, but the Needle Trees they were under were part of a larger grove and the grove backed up to a small hill, partially obscuring a small cave.

It was too small for a Jabberwock, and the Needle Trees provided a dense, sharp screen. It was perfect and Mad wondered if maybe hope wasn't the sham he'd always thought it to be.

Mad looked up to see a sky of cerulean blue and wondered why he hadn't noticed how beautiful it was until just now. Sweat trickled down the side of his face and he shook his head, trying to figure out how he was going to get Killian to the hole.

Finally, he just knew there was no way around it. Mad sighed, then got Killian to a sitting position. Grunting, he pulled at Killian until he was carrying him over his shoulder, Killian's arm bumping against his injured back every time he took a step. Mad's legs trembled, rebelling at the extra weight.

He stumbled more than once, the stones trying to trick him, the spots in his vision trying to blind him. Whenever he looked up, the cave always seemed farther away, rather than closer. Eventually, he just put his head down, concentrating on breathing, doing his best to stay upright.

'Keep moving, Mad,' Gene encouraged. 'Just keep moving. One yard at a time, buddy. That's all it is. It's just movin' the ball forward a yard at a time.'

"You keep talking, Gene, and I'm going to kick your overly optimistic ass," Mad gasped out.

'As fun as that sounds, Mad,' Gene's voice said, sarcasm as thick as his accent, 'I just don't think you're tough enough.'

Mad lunged forward again, teeth clenched. "Sounds like you're scared to me." He stopped again, trying to force air into his lungs.

'Yeah and you keep stoppin' like this, Mad,' Gene snorted, 'you'll be feeding those goddamn birds.'

Mad rolled his eyes, dragging a foot forward as he snapped, "Ain't happenin'!" He tried to step forward, but fell to a knee. The sharp rocks the hill was comprised of bit into his leg, but all he could manage was a weak gasp of pain.

"Coulda fooled me," Gene said to his left. 

Mad looked up and saw his friend standing not more than three feet away, arms crossed, his uniform sweat-stained and dirty, a Thompson slung over his shoulder and his helmet crooked. 

"Well?" Gene asked, lighting a cigarette. "You gonna stand there starin' at me, or you gonna finish this?"

Mad shook his head, speechless. Fear skittered its fingers down his spine when Gene moved and he seemed to shimmer. 

Gene blew out a mouthful of smoke. "It's right there, Mad. You gonna quit?" Mad tried to push up to his feet and Gene said, "Or you gonna fight? The Mad I know wouldn't even hesitate. That's a no-brainer for him."

Gene took another drag on the cigarette before crouching down in front of him. The smoke dangled from his lips and he cocked his head, seeming to measure Mad.

He looked just like Mad remembered. Nose crooked from one to many school yard brawls, eyebrows dark over coffee colored eyes and a scar on his cheek where he'd been burned by a bullet early in the war.

Gene inhaled again, the smoke streaming from his nose a moment later. "Lookin' like a quitter to me, Mad."

"Screw you," he hissed, lunging to his feet. He took a few more steps before practically falling into the hole. It had been there in front of him. Gene had been blocking it from view.

Killian wasn't looking too good, and Mad wished he had some water to give him. Mad got him down into the cave, then turned and fell back down the slope more than he walked. When he managed to get back on his feet, he turned to see that Killian's hiding spot was all but invisible.

"You ain't done yet, cowboy," Gene said, standing by Mad's shoulder. "Come on, buddy."

"You're a real asshole, you know that?" Mad asked, his vision shimmering again. Or maybe that was just the heat waves bouncing off the rocks that made up the bottom of the valley.

"I'm aware." Gene took a final drag on his cigarette before flicking it to the side. "But I'm the asshole keepin' you alive." 

Gene laughed, the sound just as carefree as it had ever been. "I can't understand for the life of me how you even made it this far, Mad. You shoulda died a long time ago."

"I'm aware," Mad said, starting to walk again.

Gene fell into step beside him. "I warned you. Didn't I? I warned you not to mix it up with that red-haired prick."

"Jesus, Gene. I know." Mad sighed in exasperation. He tripped and scowled at Gene. "You're beating a dead horse, Grimmes."

"It's your fault Alice's in danger." Gene snapped his fingers. "Now I know why she seems so familiar."

"Shut up, Gene," Mad growled, trying to find the black paint that would get him to the right tunnel.

"No, no." Gene lit another cigarette. "She's a dead ringer for that nurse. You remember her, Mad? God she was such a youngster. I mean, just a goddamn kid. Cute little thing. What the hell was she doin' half way across the world? 'Course." Gene smiled. "We weren't much older. You remember her, Mad? You must, you spent enough time writing to her."

"What part of stop don't you understand?" Mad said, his words tripping over each other.

"Sorry. Sorry. I forgot. You don't like to think about her, do you? Thirty yards forward." Gene pointed to the right with his Thompson.

Mad wanted to whoop with joy when he saw what Gene was pointing out. He was almost there. He was going to make it.

He turned to Gene, wanting to say something cuttingly triumphant.

But Gene was gone.

Mad staggered forward. Maybe Gene had gone in to clear the tunnel first. After all, Mad only had two auto pistols and he had the machine gun. He got to the tunnel, but his friend was no where to be seen. 

"You're not supposed to go by yourself!" Mad yelled, his words echoing around him weirdly, disorienting him.

"Gene!" Mad called, but there was no answer.

He muttered a few choice words under his breath before going deeper into the tunnel. "Gene! Quit screwing around. We're supposed to find Alice!" 

He turned, looking back to the faint daylight at the tunnel's mouth.

"Halt!" Mad spun back around at the strange voice. He tried to grab his guns, but strange hands stopped him. "Who are you? How do you know of this place?" The voice was harsh, demanding answers.

Mad could see his vision fading. He swayed, mostly held up by the strangers grabbing him.

"Who are you?" the voice demanded again.

'Killian,' Gene whispered. 'Tell them about Killian.'

His words were slurred even to his own ears as Mad said, "Killian, he's... hidden."

"What?" The tone of the voice changed then.

But that was it for Mad. He tried to speak and thought he said something, but everything was a blur. The people around him turned to shadow.

Sound was dulled and his vision was almost non-existent. He hurt everywhere and his head was heavy.

Mad dropped to the ground, exhaustion stealing him away from consciousness.

He hoped he'd told them about Killian as he sank into peaceful black waters.

'You can sleep now, Mad,' Gene's voice whispered.