It all began when the attack commenced. Allen felt sick, but he had gone along, firing his weapon into the walls above the crowd, feeling sure he hadn't hit a soul.

Now he was lying on his back in an emergency exit, an ambulance roaring away in front of his eyes, several Russian SWAT commencing on him, and checking him over for wounds.

Fuck... I can't feel my chest...Allen thought, attempting to reach out for the hand of a man crouching over him, but then it dropped to the cold floor, and he felt his vision leaving him.

His thoughts turned not to his own personal safety, but that of his parents, his fiance back in the states, his buddies from high school. Then he remembered Foley and Dunn, who never had a word in on his disappearance, only being notified after he'd accompanied Shepherd on his chopper, and then assumed the role of Alexi. It had all been for nothing.

He tried to laugh, but it turned into a cough as the Russians brought in a stretcher for him, probably intending to keep him alive for interrogation and retaliation for the deed he had been in, but not done anything to help. He could feel his fingers numbing, and his eyes were now misting over, spots covering the areas where he could actually see.

An oxygen mask covered his face, but he doubted it would do anything, and he reluctantly breathed in the air, doubting he would survive much longer.

Once again, his thoughts wandered back to that of his parents, whom had begged him not to go into the military, insisting he continue on his progress to becoming a writer. He was sorry he hadn't listened to them now, and wished he could tell them he was sorry, but it was too late. He began tearing up as he remembered the last birthday he'd had with them, back when he had turned eighteen. His own car, a new laptop, and the biggest birthday cake they could buy, even though he was much too old for a birthday cake. He felt guilty now, that his parents would give him so much, and he would brush off their warnings about the military just like that...

His fiance, whom he had met in college while studying, would be devastated. She used to stay up late at night with him and converse about their thoughts, politics, the world... He'd never get to tell her that the only reason he was in the military was to protect her, his country, his parents...

Dunn and Foley, who he had come to think of as an extended family, would miss him, but not much. The two had been quite great to him, welcoming him to the outfit with open arms... Then he'd left them in the cold, and now he'd never see them again, be able to tell them how much they'd meant to him back in the outfit...

His vision was black now, but his hearing was fine. In the mumbling of voices, he could hear one distinct one, close to his left ear.

"What's your name?" The thick Russian accented leaked into his ear, as tears began falling down from his face. He'd die being thought of as a terrorist, a man who'd tried to kill an airport of people whom he'd never met... General Shepherd would never claim him American, and they would never believe him if he told them his American name...

He'd be recognized as an American anyway, but he was determined to keep the charade going as long as he could.

"Alexi..." He managed to mumble, and with that his arms fell onto his chest, his breathing stopped, and his eyes staring into nothing.

His grave would read Alexi, and no last name, but unknown to the Russians, his knife was etched with one thing that would set him as a standing citizen of USA, and not a terrorist determined to destroy his country.

Joseph Allen

A/N: Quick one-shot I felt like writing while working on The Way War Was, which I've worked out a schedule on if anyone who reads it cares to read this.

New chapters will be released Fridays, Saturdays, and maybe Sundays in my time. (US Central, -6.) If there are any other days where I can be free from schoolwork, I'll try to post then as well, but no guarantees.

~DeltaG