Oscar waited outside the plane, a gun in his hands, his eyes scanning the skies, as we landed. Relief crossed his face as we stumbled out of the helicopter but he quickly returned to looking around, waiting for any sign of trouble.

Lauren raced across the tarmac ahead of us, her hand finding Oscars briefly before she threw herself up the stairs and into the cockpit. I reached the steps first, pounding up them and sinking into the chair I’d sat in what felt like weeks ago. It had only been a few days, maybe a week, but it felt longer. So much had happened in that time and I felt like I’d changed a lot too.

My limbs trembled, my muscles sore, as adrenaline drained out of me. We’d done it. We had gotten back to the plane, we must be safe. Lauren had said that she hasn’t seen anyone following us and Mitch had agreed, even if he had said he’d feel better once we were in the air.

A loud slamming noise came from behind me as Oscar shut the plane door and Mitch fell into the seat in front of the table, dropping his bag onto it and barely missing the first aid kit that waited there.

“Can you wait until we’re in the air before we sort you out?” Oscar asked Mitch, shouting over the noise of the plane as it idled towards the runway.

“I’m fine,” Mitch said, wincing as he shuffled to do up his seatbelt.

Oscar sent him a disapproving look before sinking into the seat opposite me and buckling up.

“What about you, kid? Any injuries or bullet wounds?” he asked, his eyes scanning me.

I glanced down at my hands, unsure whether to mention them. They didn’t feel like a proper injury, just something dumb that I’d done. I could feel them in real life too. They stung but I didn’t want to think about it too much, it would pull me out of the fantasy.

“No, I’m fine,” I called back over the noise.

“What happened to them?”

Oscar nodded towards my hands.

“I fell,” was all I could think to say, my cheeks flushing again.

“Ah, we’ve all been there,” he replied with a grin.

“Haven’t we just,” Mitch added with a cheeky grin. “But this is nowhere near as bad as the injury you got in… where was it? McNab’s island?”

“Oh, come on, man,” Oscar groaned, dropping his head back against his headrest as the plane lifted from the runway. “Don’t bring that up again!”

I smiled slightly, looking between them.

“What happened?” I asked.

I knew it was silly but it did make me feel better to know that others had injured themselves whilst with Mitch too. It made me feel less stupid, like it was something that happened to everyone.

“Nothing, it was nothing!” Oscar objected.

“Nothing?” Mitch chuckled. “I would hardly call it nothing.”

Oscar groaned loudly.

“Alright, fine. I’ll let you tell it if you let me deal with that,” he said, gesturing towards Mitch. “Looks like you should have done something with it before now anyway.”

“Hey! I put pressure on it,” Mitch argued.

“Is that all?”

Mitch shrugged.

“I didn’t want to scare the kid,” he said.

Oscar glanced towards me but I couldn’t react in any way. I was frozen in my seat as fear raced through me. What had happened to him? How bad was it?

“I get it but that’s stupid. You need to sort it out. How bad is it?” he asked.

“Not bad,” Mitch replied. “Didn’t hit anything important, I’m more worried about it getting infected.”

Oscar’s eyebrows drew together.

“Get that shirt off now. Let’s have a look at it.”

Mitch glanced at me before sighing and rolling his eyes.

“Alright, alright,” he said, undoing his seatbelt and opening his vest.

“Do you need a hand with your shirt?” Oscar asked.

“Man, Lauren’s right through there. Have some self-restraint,” Mitch teased.

Oscar glared at him.

“I’m not hitting on you, asshole, I’m trying to make sure you don’t die. God, I forgot how annoying you are when you’re injured.”

“Hey, now! I’m annoying all the time, not just when I’m injured.”

Mitch slowly lifted his shirt over his head and my eyes immediately found the surprisingly small oozing hole. It looked deep.

“Well, you’re right about that but you definitely are more annoying when you’re injured. Bullet hole?” Oscar asked, his eyes on the wound.

“Yup. No exit wound so I’m pretty sure it’s still in there. It probably came through the stone so it won’t have been going too fast,” Mitch reasoned, probing the edges of the wound carefully.

I swallowed, unable to look away from the bullet hole.

Mitch leant back, looking down at his wound before reaching towards the first aid kit.

“You aren’t dealing with that yourself,” Oscar said sharply. “I don’t trust you to fix bullet holes on yourself anymore. Last time you didn’t stitch it properly and almost passed out from blood loss. Turn towards me.”

Mitch held his hands up in defeat and pulled a leaver under his chair, swinging it around to face Oscar.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing. I know you’ve been eyeing up some of my crap for years. You sure you’re not hoping that I finally croak and you can have my stuff in the will?” Mitch asked, eyeing him with a smile.

My heart clenched at the mention of Mitch dying, even if it had been playful. He couldn’t die. I couldn't have him die.

“I’m still in the will?” Oscar asked. “I thought you took me out.”

“Nah, you’re still on there. Somewhere towards the bottom but… still on there.” Mitch grinned before his expression sobered. “I don’t mind doing this myself.”

“Oh, shut it. You know this is part of my job,” Oscar said, reaching for a nearby headset that I hadn’t even noticed before and speaking into it. “Darling, I need to fish a bullet out of Mitch, nothing too bad though. Am I safe to do it now?”

There was a pause and I watched as Mitch grabbed some gauze, wiping away some of the blood.

I couldn’t hear Lauren’s reply over the noise of the plane but Oscar nodded.

“Ah, perfect. Thanks, love.” He took the headset off and looked at Mitch again. “Lean back, old man. Let me have a look at that.”

Mitch did as instructed, leaning back and lowering the gauze so that Oscar could examine it.

“Thanks, man. I forget how bossy you get when you’re fixing me up,” he said with a warm smile before glancing at me. “At least tell the story of what happened on McNab’s whilst you sort me out to distract Grace.”

Oscar groaned again before glancing at me and I became aware that I’d just been staring at them for the last however long. I felt like I couldn’t move or look away though. I could barely even blink. I felt dizzy and nauseous.

Mitch had been shot.

Was it my fault?

“Ah, no need to look so worried, Grace,” Oscar told me as he picked up a pair of gloves and started to put them on. “I’ve picked more bullets out of this grumpy old man than I can count.”

“Which isn’t saying much because he dropped out of school at fourteen,” Mitch added.

“How did I drop out? I finished all my exams and graduated. School was holding me back, there was no point being there,” Oscar said distractedly, dropping to his knees in front of Mitch and beginning to put white sheets on his lap and the table.

“Eh, same thing. Go on. Do you want me to start the story? You know how much it cheers me up.”

Oscar glared up at him.

“Yeah because it makes you look like a hero and I look like a dumbass,” he shot back.

I didn’t get how they were acting so normal. They were just chatting, bickering as if Mitch didn’t have a bullet wound. I knew that he’d been shot before, he was covered in scars, but I didn’t understand how it wasn’t more of a big deal. He had been shot, he could die. He could be dying at that very moment but instead, he and Oscar were just sitting about joking.

It felt wrong, it all felt so wrong.

“You don’t look like a dumbass,” Mitch said. “You were one.”

“I know. Alright, fine,” Oscar sighed as he pulled out a syringe and a glass vial. “I guess it’s the least I can do to distract you whilst I root around in your body looking for this damn bullet. But if I get so distracted that I hit you in the kidney…”

He shot Mitch a threatening look but Mitch just snorted.

“Please! It’s nowhere near my kidney. If you manage to hit that, you’d have to be actively aiming for it.”

“Whoops,” Oscar muttered darkly, sinking the needle into Mitch’s abdomen around the bullet wound.

I watched as he slipped the cap back onto the needle and placed it on the table before leaning forwards. His body blocked my view of Mitch’s wound and although I was glad, it also made my anxiety rise.

I wanted him to move. I wanted to be able to see exactly what he was doing. I needed to be prepared. If anything went wrong or if he needed my help or something, I’d be lost. Even if I could see what was happening, I would still be lost though. I just needed to.

I needed Mitch to be okay, I didn’t know what I’d do if he were to die. It had been my fault. I wasn’t sure how but it was. I’d hesitated, taken too long. I was the reason Mitch had been shot.

“Alright,” Oscar started reluctantly. “Ready to hear the story of how Mitch saved my ass and taught me a valuable lesson about stupidity?”

He glanced back at me as he reached for a pair of long tweezers.

I nodded numbly, my body feeling strange. It felt like I wasn’t attached to it. Like I was watching it on tv or something. I couldn’t feel my body. It wasn’t like when I first started fantasising. I knew I was there but I just couldn’t feel it. I could barely move, I felt like I was staring, my eyes needing to see more.

“Okay, in my defence, I was young and dumb as dirt. I thought I was smarter than that but, clearly, that is not true. But, just know that I truly thought it would be okay,” Oscar insisted.

Mitch snorted.

“Enough excuses, get to the story,” he prompted, clearly enjoying himself. “Kid, do you know where McNab’s is?”

He looked up at me.

It took me a minute before I realised he was talking to me and shook my head.

“Alright, start by telling Grace about that. I mean, how is she meant to know how dumb you were if she doesn’t know the background? Although,” he paused and grinned down at Oscar, “I think she’d know that hitching a ride with Sterling’s people and telling them exactly where to find me is a dumb as hell move.”

Mitch burst into laughter, his hands twitching towards his stomach.

“Be careful, old man. No movement or laughter whilst I’m doing this. I’m not telling the story if you can’t keep it together,” Oscar warned.

Mitch’s hands returned to the armrests, smearing blood on them.

“Alright, I’ll try my best.”

“Good,” Oscar said, leaning back and dropping a squished hunk of metal onto the sheet on the table. “Do you want me to start with the night we first met or by explaining what the deal is with McNabs?”

Mitch cocked his head, thinking about it.

“Eh, the night we met is irrelevant. You can go straight to McNabs if you want?” he suggested.

“Irrelevant?” Oscar repeated, feigning offence. “Wow. I mean, I thought that night was pretty fun and important but apparently not.”

Mitch snorted softly.

“Just tell the damn story.”

“Alright, alright. So, this asshole climbed out of my hotel window at four in the morning after hinting that he was going to go rob an abandoned military base and gold mine and I think it’s worth pointing out that my room was on the sixth floor which, honestly is pretty impressive. Then, he had the sheer audacity to act surprised when I showed up at the military base the next day,” Oscar said.

Mitch laughed, earning a sharp look from Oscar.

“Sorry, sorry. No laughing, got it,” Mitch told him. “It was a test and you know it. I expected you to get to the island, I just didn’t expect you to rock up with the Sterlings!”

“How did you expect me to get there then? Swim?”

“I don’t know, I thought you’d steal a boat or something! You spent the whole night boasting about how you could hot wire anything! What was I supposed to think?”

“So your mind immediately jumps to crime rather than just hitching a ride with a nice group who were heading there anyway?” Oscar asked. “You need to get out of the field, mate. It’s corrupting you.”

Mitch chuckled at Oscar’s long-suffering tone.

“It’s been corrupting me since long before you were born. Keep going.”

“Alright. You know the drill, this is going to hurt,” Oscar warned him.

I scanned Mitch’s face carefully, watching the slight twitch of his eyebrows as Oscar did something to the wound, his body blocking it.

Part of me wanted to stand so that I could get a better view of it even though the mental picture of what was happening was making me nauseous. It still felt too distant though. It was like my body was feeling sick but it didn’t really impact me in any way. Almost like I wasn’t connected to my body.

“I’m going to go out on a limb,” Oscar said as he dropped a blood-soaked cloth onto the table, “and assume that you’ve never heard of McNab’s island?”

He glanced at me and I shook my head, unable to speak.

“Ah, not many people have. I mean, I hadn’t before I met Mitch. It was dumb luck that I was even in Canada at the time.”

“It wasn’t,” Mitch muttered under his breath.

Oscar glanced up at him but Mitch just smiled innocently, causing him to sigh and continue as if he hadn’t been interrupted.

“So, the island is just off Halifax Harbour in Nova Scotia. It’s been there forever and it has a pretty interesting history actually. It’s been used for leisure and by the military fairly extensively but right now, it's mostly a historic site. I think it is, like, and nature park an educational place, right?” he asked, glancing up at Mitch for clarification.

“Yeah, pretty much. A few people live there but not in the same area that we were in,” he replied with a slight wince.

“Right! I’ll save you the long history lesson but basically, way back in the late 1800s, some people who live that reported that they saw some people, probably American pirates, heading towards one of the coves with some form of treasure or something. They searched the area the next morning but didn’t find anything particularly suspicious.”

"Mmmm, they kind of did though,” Mitch interrupted.

“I was getting to that!” Oscar chided.

“Slowly! Are you really saying that a big hole with a cherry tree planted over it isn't weird? They even mark the spot with stones.”

“Well, now you’ve ruined it! Yes, they found a hole, a cherry tree and some markings but they didn’t find any treasure.”

“Because they were looking in the wrong place!” Mitch added animatedly.

Oscar leant back and looked up at Mitch.

“Do you want to tell the story?” he asked.

“No, you’re doing a good job. You can keep going,” Mitch replied, trying to suppress his grin.

“Oh, I can? Thank you so much for allowing me to tell the story you forced me to tell,” Oscar shot at him sarcastically. “So, as Mitch so rudely spoilt for you, they weren’t looking in the right place. Neither were the people who searched there about fifty years later.”

There was a pause as Oscar dropped another wad of blood-covered gauze onto the table before grabbing a large white bandage and microporous tape from the first aid kit.

I watched as he carefully unwrapped it and placed it over the wound.

“Hold this but don’t get your grubby hands on it,” Oscar ordered.

“I can do one or the other,” Mitch replied.

Oscar glanced at his hands for a moment before looking back at mine.

“Both horrible options,” he muttered under his breath. “Put this glove on.”

Oscar held a glove out to Mitch so that he could slip it on easily before readjusting the bandage again.

“I got it,” Mitch said. “Tell the kid what we found.”

He grinned up at me but I couldn’t bring myself to smile back at him.

“Well, it turns out the cherry tree was marking the entrance to an abandoned gold mine that the French set up when they occupied the island years before,” Oscar said as he picked at the tape, trying to find the start of it.

“And, remind me how you got to the island?” Mitch asked innocently.

Oscar paused to glare at Mitch.

“I knew this asshole was testing me and honestly the mystery was too tempting. I overheard a tour group saying they were going to the island so asked if I could hitch a ride too.”

“Just a nice friendly tour group all dressed in black with visible weapons,” Mitch teased.

“They were perfectly friendly to me!” Oscar objected. “We just chatted a bit and I said nothing about you. Then they dropped me on the island and we went our separate ways.”

“Mmm, you sure about that? Nothing at all?” Mitch asked, a smile playing about his lips. “Are you sure you didn’t tell them just enough to know exactly who you were meeting?”

“I mean… I might have briefly mentioned that I was meeting a friend on the island but that was it! I didn’t say anything that could have given it away, I don’t think. I reckon they already knew you were going,” Oscar said before sitting back and examining his handiwork critically. “How does that feel? It should keep you from bleeding out before we can get you to a hospital.”

“I don’t need a hospital. ’Tis just a scratch.”

Oscar stood with a groan and stretched his legs.

“We’re taking you to a hospital, even if I have to sedate you and drag you there against your will,” he threatened, his tone surprisingly lighthearted.

“You’ve done it before, you’ll do it again, I guess,” Mitch said with a slight shrug. “Finish the story, I’ll tidy up.”

Mitch started to turn towards the table but Oscar stopped him.

“Nah, I got it. You relax,” he insisted before looking at me over his shoulder. “To cut the long story short, those assholes followed me to where Mitch was hunkered down in a mining shaft, held me hostage and tried to murder us both. Mitch took them all out, saved me, got us both off the island and then I met the love of my life.”

Mitch’s mouth fell open in outrage.

“Hey! No fair, you missed out so much! What about the heroic way I pushed you out of the way of gunfire, sacrificing myself? Or how I carried you back to the seaplane despite having a gaping bullet wound in my arm?” he argued.

Oscar sent me a smirk as he loaded the used medical equipment into a trash bag.

“Oh yeah, he did all that stuff.”

Mitch sighed and dropped his head back against the seat.

“Damn, I can’t believe how long ago that was,” he said after a while.

“I know, it’s wild. I can’t believe how much my life had changed since then,” Oscar said, a smile on his lips as he tied the bag shut and slung it behind his chair. “I wouldn’t change it for the world though.”

“Me either,” Mitch replied, smiling fondly at Oscar.

There was a pause as they both reminisced for a moment before Oscar began rolling up the first aid kit.

“So, what’s the plan now? Hospital first, then what?” Oscar asked.

“Mmm… we should probably lie low for a little while. I think we pissed off the Sterlings pretty spectacularly so I’ll give them some time to stop wanting to kill me quite so much then we’ll anger them again,” Mitch smirked.

“That’s a good idea. I mean, I’m pretty fond of you and I’d rather you don’t die any time soon.”

“Ah, you’re just in it for my money,” Mitch teased.

“No, I love you and your money. It doesn’t need to be one or the other.”

Mitch laughed at him, a hand going to his stomach.

“You and Lauren got enough saved up to see you in beer and food for the next six months or so until I need your service again?” he asked gently.

“Yeah, man. You know we’re good.”

“I know, I know, just gotta make sure.”

“Appreciate it. Which house are you going to go to?” Oscar asked.

Mitch scrunched his face up.

“I’m not sure really.”

“It had better be somewhere where you’ve actually registered with a doctor. You’re going to need antibiotics and follow-up appointments. And, no exercise or strenuous activity until it’s fully healed so it had better not be that place where you have to climb about a hundred steps to get up there,” Oscar warned him. “You’re not out of the danger zone yet and you’re not as young as you once were, old man.”

Mitch’s face fell and my heart clenched.

“Well, it’s not going to be that place now, I guess” he said, feigning disappointment before looking at me. “Ready for me to have a look at your hands now, kid?”

I looked down at my hands without speaking, staring at the white bandages which were speckled with blood where it had soaked through.

“Oh, shit,” Oscar said before I could answer. “I completely forgot. I shouldn’t have packed everything up!”

“Don’t worry about it. I don’t think unzipping it will count as strenuous activity. Go on, trade places, you two.”

I reached for my belt, my hands trembling. It took me a few tries to actually be able to undo it.

I stood and edged around Oscar, dropping into his chair.

“Hands,” Mitch asked, undoing the kit and leaning forwards slightly.

I lifted my hands, laying them face on the table.

They were shaking. My fingers were trembling so hard that they looked like they were twitching. I couldn’t make them stop.

“You alright?” Mitch asked me softly.

“Yeah,” I forced out, feeling embarrassed by how unsteady my voice was. “I don’t know why they’re shaking.”

I let out a laugh that felt flat and looked away from Mitch’s sympathetic face.

I stared at the last empty seat, trying to force away the tears that were burning behind my eyes.

“It makes sense,” Mitch said gently. “You’re new to this and it’s scary. In the last twenty-four hours, you’ve been shot at, almost stabbed, almost blown up and you’ve seen all that happen to me too. It’s a lot to process.”

A hot lump of emotion sat in my throat, making it hard to breathe. My chest felt tight too. Even when I managed to suck in air around the lump, it didn’t feel like enough.

“I promise, Grace. It’s normal to feel overwhelmed,” Mitch said, starting to gently peel the plasters off my hands.

“How do I make them stop?” I asked, hating how weak they made me feel.

“Give it time. Just let yourself feel overwhelmed and scared, it gets easier with time. It might help to go run your hands under cold water for a little bit too?” he suggested.

I nodded before stopping.

“Is that okay? I mean, it won’t make them worse?” I asked stupidly.

I wasn’t even sure why I asked it. Surely washing them with water wouldn’t make them infected or anything.

“No, they’ll be okay. Just be gentle when you dry them and make sure to just dab, not rub.”

I nodded and pushed myself out of my seat. I started to pass him before stopping.

I shouldn’t have asked. I knew that. I didn’t want to hear him lie to me.

It would have eaten me alive even if I hadn’t though.

“Was it my fault you got shot?” I asked softly. “Is it because I took too long?”

“No!” Mitch cried immediately but I knew it was a lie.

If I had been quicker, if I had just gotten in the water when he told me to, he wouldn’t have been shot. He might still die.

I couldn’t stay there. I couldn’t stay in my fantasy any longer. I could feel the tears coming and I didn’t want to cry in front of him. I slipped into the real world, my hands stinging and dripping blood onto the forest floor, and stopped running. Tears escaped my eyes and my breath came in gasps.

I couldn’t take it. He’d been shot because of me.

My knees gave way and I fell onto my knees, barely able to breathe, sobs threatening to choke me.

But I hadn’t left Mitch’s world. Not fully. Part of me was still in the bathroom, glaring at myself in the mirror and the back of my hand pressed against my mouth to muffle my blubbering.

“How did she do out there?” I heard Oscar ask through the door.

I pressed my ear against it, needing to hear Mitch’s response.

“She did good.”

Another lie.