Flight Lieuetenant Wesley Danvers gritted his teeth as his plane bucked around him. The Mosquito's cockpit reeked of smoke and burning wood. The engine whined, quickly turning to a scream and Danvers yelled at his navigator. "Will! Will! Damn it, Will, what is going on?" He already had a pretty good idea. The Jerries' planes had scrambled too damn fast and the anti-aircraft fire had lit the skies to a dusty tan green. It also highlighted the rain lashing down on all the aircraft, friend and foe alike. Danvers nimbly dodged a Messerschmidt and another hail of bullets rattled his craft. His Mossie quaked and Danvers cursed loudly. "Will!"

"Just get her down." The Flying Officer's voice sounded weak and Danvers cursed again, stomach clenching and mouth drying. The last hit must have gotten Will as well. He risked a glance backwards but saw little.

"How bad are you, Will?"

"Bad enough. Damn, Wes, this hurts."

"I'll bring her down. Hang on."

"Righto."

Danvers used every skill he had, guiding his beloved plane to the safest landing he could. Flames licked his hands and bullets cracked against the outside of the Mosquito. Tree branches slapped the sides, echoing like a whip, and the instruments jumped violently. With a growl and a yank that wrenched every muscle in his upper body, Danvers turned the plane and it skidded through the dirt. It whumped the ground, bumping and skipping. The right wing snapped off and Danvers hissed. "Come on, baby, not much more."

The plane wallowed to a rest in a huge thicket and Danvers shinned out. Pain shot up his legs and his shoulders ached yet he ignored it. "Will!"

"I'm here."

Danvers shook. Flying Officer William Wilcox laid in the wreckage of the Mosquito. Smoke and a coppery aroma of blood filled the air, covering the scent of wet vegetation and mud. Charred wood broke as Danvers pulled Wilcox and the man cried out. "Shh. Please be still," Danvers whispered. "This place will be crawling with Jerries in a minute."

"Wes, my leg..."

"I'll help. Come on."

The rain poured down as the two hobbled deep into the scrub. Danvers kept his arm tight around Will's waist. To his credit, the navigator whimpered only once, then hopped along stoically. Danvers half carried Wilcox to a large tree. There he eased Wilcox to the ground, biting his lip as he caught sight of Will's shattered leg. "Catch your breath," Danvers whispered. "Will, I am so bloody sorry."

"For what, the Krauts?" Wilcox managed a pained smile. "You need to run, Wes."

Danvers snorted, sat down, and gingerly wrapped his arms around Wilcox. "Rest," he ordered. "I'm not leaving you."

"The Kauts don't need both of us."

"We've already talked about this. I'm not leaving. Not now. Not ever."

"Ah, you're so romantic." Wilcox weakly punched Danvers' shoulder.

"Just rest. I'll keep watch."