Disclaimer: Glee or the characters are not mine at all

Trying to ignore his heartbeat weakening through his skin at every waking moment, Mercedes gently dabbed the warm, wet flannel on his torso. But the blood still ran. The wound still pierced through his flesh. The soldier was still dying. Despite the searing heat of the Afghan desert, she hurriedly worked away at cleaning his wound- all the time noticing how the cool of his body radiating onto her skin gradually became cold.

Xxx

The wind heavily breathed sand into the corners of Mercedes' eyes but she didn't flinch for a second. Instead, she grabbed the hand of the person closest to her, lowered her eyelids to the ground and counted the intervals between each consistent earth- shattering strike with the fingers on her other hand; the highest she had ever reached was two.

'One', she whispered softly to herself, sticking out her thumb. That thumb had been wedged in the car door at the age of four. She had screamed, her tiny thumb stuck in the tight gap as a scar began to cut deep. Dismissing it, her father idly leant across the doorframe talking about grown- up things with the housekeeper, making her giggle with all her might- but Mercedes didn't find the things daddy had said to her funny at all.

'Two', slowly placing her index finger out, she brushed against her callous fingertips. They had once been smooth, manicured, pretty things that girls with money had. That had all changed when her dad's business had failed. There was no need for her hands to be so when she needed to put bread on the table.

She hesitated at the third finger. The highest she had ever reached was two and the tension through the whirlwind of organised chaos was breaking her.

Then the one she had been dreading sounded at the foot of the barriers of the camp within close distance. Watching a dark silhouetted figure, probably on guard duty, be shoved at least fifty metres away from the impact like a dandelion seed blown away in the wind. Frozen from sheer shock, she prayed to God that he would live to see tomorrow morning. Looking back on it now, she realised that the waves of blurred heat had distorted her vision. There were in fact two figures… and maybe it was her own imagination or a double image in the back of her retina but she could have sworn that only one fell.

'Three', the voice next to her, continued to grip her hands tightly, taking her stretched out fingers from her right hand and folding them gently inside her palm- quickly purging the memories of what she did to her mother with that middle finger of hers, she had no time for regrets. She turned to see Officer Kurt Hummel smiling at her through rigid, cheek muscles. His mask only fooled her to a certain extent; she could still see the fear in his eyes as she watched the long- awaited orange flames of the bomb finally light in the reflected image in his iris.

They had grown close over the previous few weeks despite Hummel being an officer and Jones being a military nurse. With Kurt's fair share of minor battle injuries (God, that kid was accident-prone) and Mercedes being one of the few remaining nurses not driven away by the horrors and gore of war, they had formed an unlikely friendship.

She had once heard whimpers from his area of the tent. Wordlessly, she had pulled him into a hug, wiping his wet eyes with the sleeves of her uniformed pyjamas and he had told her everything: how his parents had kicked him out, how random strangers would judge him in the street, how his own friends had turned their backs on him leaving bruises of his own to remember each and every one of them by, how joining the army had been a last resort…and how he was gay.

The orange flames licked at the corner of her gaze and in response she clutched Kurt's hand even tighter, staring straight on as the fire began to leap over the far, sand- bag barriers. Pushed and shoved from the remaining officers at the base frantically grabbing any buckets or hoses they could and lashing the contents onto the fire, she filtered her ears through the screams of panic and the roaring hiss of the fire reaching its end.

'Medic! We need a medic!', several voices repeatedly coughed out faintly from the dying roar of the fire.

Her eyebrows shrivelled up towards the centre of her forehead trying to make out where they were coming from when she saw two figures emerge hauling across a stretcher. The dip weighing the rippled material down told her there was a body laid in it.

'I'm here. Bring him into the third tent', Mercedes directed before her brain had even processed it, unlocking hands with Kurt and heading to the foresaid place herself, weaving her way through the marching soldiers.

Flapping open the curtain of the tent for Officer Anderson and Puckerman to easily pass through, she let her eyes wander across her patient. He lay unconscious, his weak breaths gently brushing across the frays of his blond, sweated locks, as his eyes fluttered viciously from under his eyelids. Squinting at the army tag around his neck, she read 'Evans'. She had heard rumours about him- albeit mainly from Kurt on their now very few gossip sessions: homelessness, his brief years spent in prison …and what had happened to put him there. She had laughed it off before saying that Kurt was just trying to scare her shitless at one in the morning about some mysterious ghost of a man who may or may not have even been there …and hell it worked. She had woken up three times that night in a cold sweat. But looking at the man, now transferred onto an unchanged bed she saw nothing of the sort. Lastly, Mercedes set her eyes upon the damage. On one side of his torso, his uniform had been scoured open at the stomach and stained red, revealing burnt, withered skin on the outskirts of a fresh wound that flooded across his side like a lake- he was losing too much blood. She took a sharp intake of breath; she had never had to deal with an injury as severe as this before…unless the patient passed.

Puckerman cleared his throat, bringing her out of her reverie.

'Umm… could you bring me some fresh water and clean rags', Nurse Jones stated more than a request, still staring at Officer Evans in mid- thought.

Anderson and Puckerman left the almost- empty tent quickly leaving Nurse Jones and 'Evans' alone.

Sighing, she stroked his brow.

Xxx

'Nurse Jones, I…think it best if we leave it at that', Colonel Hudson stuttered blankly, dodging each of his words carefully through the silence of the tent and the occasional, eye- wincing explosions surrounding them. Glancing at the remaining lower officers sat on their beds, he didn't notice how Officer Hummel's nails cut through his own palms with every strike closer the bombs leered towards the camp, he didn't notice how Officer Lopez's sharp tongue finally quietened down from her rampage of cusses and slowed to a halt nor did he notice how Officer Puckerman closed his watery eyes and prayed under his breath. Instead he tore his flickering watch towards the dark- skinned nurse fruitlessly tending to the blonde man lying limply. Finn tried not to attract his eyes too long at flesh eaten wound but he couldn't look away- not after what he had done to him.

The army camp had always been a glass box; the younger, inexperienced officers could always see the war with their own eyes but it wasn't put into perspective until explosives shattered that safe, glass home into hundreds of blades edged across the floor, waiting for the first step to be taken. It was only a matter of time before someone tripped upon broken glass and fell into the pit of shards below.

And now, Hudson could feel the giant's footsteps quaking more and more ferociously before his feet. They were coming.

'Nurse Jones', he repeated sternly as he began to pack his few essentials into his rucksack, signalling for the others to do the same. There was no chance of retaliation; the remaining camp's officers had been sectioned off for a different station for the night and those that stayed, except for a few leading commanders and corporals, were in little numbers, young, inexperienced and nervous wrecks. They needed to get out of there as soon as possible if any of them were to survive and a stubborn nurse having faith in a half- dead man did not make the Colonel's task any easier.

Whilst strapping his helmet to his chin and lining up his officers in front of their bed posts to quickly run through their escape route, the end of the line stopped abruptly to a rather red- faced, flustered Mercedes attempting to balance the almost lifeless soldier's weight against her left shoulder. A torn sash of material acted as a large bandage across his torso tightly constricting the blood flow and he noticed one of her sleeves from her uniform had been ripped off.

Frowning, Colonel Hudson frustratedly sighed, 'I told you to leave him. He's as good as dead whether or not we take him'

'Not yet', Mercedes retorted suddenly standing up taller still grasping securely onto her patient, 'There's always hope' In retrospect, she would have laughed at the irony of her comment in such surroundings.

'Do you even know him? Do you know what he's done? You seriously can't be willing to risk your life for the sake of his?', Hudson narrowed his eyes, the silent tension in the tent intensifying, second by second the explosions leering towards them.

Mercedes didn't say a word, the last explosion before the last pitted deep against their ears as a piece of shrapnel landed at her feet but she still glared at him. Hudson glanced down at the shrapnel at her feet. It was time and with or without him, he wasn't going to risk any more lives.

'Puckerman, take the load for her'

Xxx

Scrambling through the tight confines of the interlinking tunnels, the only sound to be made was the occasional scuffle of light footsteps for all they knew the tunnel's walls could be just inches away from the enemy.

Walking sheepishly for nearly three hours, they were close to the next station. All the while, Puckerman had hauled Officer Evans across his right shoulder as Mercedes continually tended to his wounds behind them. The antiseptic and bandages would keep it clean and free from infections for now and would be changed at the next base but he was still unconscious. Mercedes was getting worried; she hadn't had time to check him up properly for any further injuries and his length of unconsciousness was concerning. There was a possibility of a coma and internal bleeding amongst many other prospects especially with the impact his body had taken. It hurt… knowing that yet another life would be wasted in the 'glory' known as war and that the ambiguous man who had haunted her nightmares for months may be gone for something as simple as a bomb. She had always been one to confront her fears head- on. In her dreams she had imagined him invincible but it seemed every superhero had its kryptonite. Now, she saw him for his true colours: his sweated, gold hair plastered against his forehead, gently carried on his chest by Puck's shoulder as his limbs dangling limply with every stride that Puck took- vulnerable. Like a new-born baby, his immunity to danger was low and he relied upon them, her to keep him going.

After tightening the make- shift bandage around his waist, she noticed the tips of his fringe bristling across his eyelids, disturbing Evan's peace… amongst the gun shots within tense breaks of silence. Hesitating, she brushed the frays of his hair from his face, her fingertips lightly grazing across his temples as she smiled at his content expression piercing across his wide lips. Unconsciously, his large hand grabbed hold of her own and pressed it softly against his stubbled cheek.

'We're here', Colonel Hudson announced, his tall and heavy build standing out of the narrow walls of the tunnel to reveal the third base, soldiers marching in all directions but instead light- heartedness maintained rather than the panic and terror that had struck at their previous base.

She almost chuckled as she watched a group of them attempting to play cards in a mini make- shift tent of their own when a gust of wind came up and swept the cards and tent mid- air just to land back on their heads again. They looked like bad imitations of gambling ghosts.

'Umm…Nurse Jones, your hand…', prompted Puck with a raised eyebrow who had now put Evans down and leant him on his other shoulder. Her hand was still cupping his cheek. She tugged it away from his grasp as quickly as if she had been burnt by his touch, stroking the affected palm with her other hand.

'I..I…', Mercedes began stuttering, trying not to make contact with his eyes.

'Come on', Puck chortled at her discomfort, 'let's get him to the medic's tent'

Xxx

After laying Officer Evans down on a spare bed in the empty medic tent, Puck patted Mercedes on the shoulder and told her, 'If you need any help, me and the rest of them will be over grabbing some dinner on the…', he paused for a moment, thinking about his bearings, '…about two tents from the right of this one'

She nodded, signalling that he could leave and get something to eat. Retreating to the entrance of the canvased tent, he hesitated a moment and spun back to face her on his heel, 'You really have faith in him, don't you? Despite everything he's done and the state that he's in you're still willing to help him- an already broken man?', Puckerman questioned, confused as to why anybody would put time and effort into fixing the pieces that were already in their hundreds, shattered and dispersed.

'We're all broken men here, Puckerman', Nurse Jones replied truthfully, sitting down and getting out her first aid kit on the bed.

Officer Puckerman shrugged in light agreement before almost whispering, 'Well if one thing's certain, he'll be dead by morning light… whether or not you help him', letting the rasp wind breath through the doorway as he left for dinner.

Sighing, she looked down at Officer Evan's wound, knowing that for once Puckerman was probably right.

Unravelling, the now dirty bandage off his torso, she grimaced. Although, to some miracle, it was healing it still looked like something from a horror movie. Mercedes took a clean cloth, dampened it and began cleaning his wound. He wouldn't stop shivering.

'You'll be fine', she whispered in reassurance yet she didn't know whether it was for him or herself. His violent shakes seemed to quake a little.

'You'll be fine', she repeated again, although not knowing how he could be 'fine' when he wasn't 'fine' in the first place from what she had heard. Maybe Puckerman was right; she couldn't restore something to its former glory if it had no former glory in the first place.

'You'll be fine', she finally said confidently, taking out her needle and thread to stitch his now clean wound back together. He winced sharply at the first prick of the pointed metal at his skin, his warm tears trickling down her forearms… but it needed to be done. Ignoring it, Nurse Jones began to sing softly in order to calm down Evans' and her own shaking hands.

'Rip the earth in two with your mind

Seal the urge which ensues with brass wires

I never meant you any harm

But your tears feel warm as they fall on my forearm

But close my eyes for a while

And force from the world a patient smile'

Tying the knot and cutting the thread from her needle, she looked up and noticed the smile playing upon his lips; his unconsciousness really was quite strange. All she could do now was wait until morning light.

She grazed the gold cross on the chain around her neck, as she usually did when deep in thought. They were allowed one piece of religious jewellery there and this was hers. Her mother had given it to her at the age of six, when her grandfather had died, to show her that he was with God and if she ever wanted to tell him that she loved him, she could pray.

Suddenly, Colonel Hudson came spluttering into the tent, out of breath. His eyes immediately went to Officer Evans' body on the bed as she watched his hands shake nervously. Quickly, he composed himself in front of her but his breathing was still uneven. She looked up from her patient, prompting Colonel Hudson on.

'Nurse Jones, there's been an accident with your father back home. He's in critical condition therefore you're permitted to leave. There's a jeep waiting to take you to the airport. You're booked for the first flight', Hudson spluttered.

Mercedes was tempted to say 'bastard', it was the truth if anything. She didn't give a shit about her father, it was because of him all this crap had happened but instead she refrained from using the word and stuttered, 'B..but…'

'No buts', Colonel Hudson, interrupted, 'under the circumstances you're not permitted to stay here either'

Forced with a choice made by somebody else, she huffed. Just when somebody had actually needed her, somebody higher up in the hierarchy began spurting out crap on moral high grounds.

'Give me two minutes', she said, beginning to gather what little of her belongings she had left in her rucksack. The rest of her stuff was left at the previous base but there was no going back there.

Hudson nodded and stepped outside the tent.

She looked down at Officer Evans.

'You'll be fine', Mercedes repeated certainly for once. Hesitantly, she unhooked the back of her gold necklace, the pendant of the cross dangling at the foot of her palm, 'but you need this more than I do', placing it in the palm of his right hand, folding his fingers over it so that he gripped it as tight as possible through his little strength, the gold chain weaving its way through the cracks between his fingers, 'and if you see morning light you can, one day, return it to me'

'Nurse Jones', Colonel Hudson called from outside.

Rapidly, she grabbed her rucksack and headed for the tent door. Glancing back, she could have sworn that his eyes flickered open for just a few seconds. She shook her head at her own stupidity and left. Puckerman was right; he'd be dead by tomorrow.

Xxx

Sam could feel the yellow of the morning sun beating down through the skin of his eyelids as he heard several mumbled murmurings close in his ear- shot. Slowly, he heaved them open to see the majority of his base's eyes staring at him in awe. He was about to get up and tell them all to 'fuck off', when a painful surge elapsed through his side, leaving himself to retreat flat on his back again. Gently, he propped himself up against the metal bars of the pane and stroked his fingers across the large, black stitch rippled against the reddened area of his bare torso. He remembered everything now: the oncoming enemy, the explosion… a figure pushing him into it. Her, he remembered her. He was sure this wasn't real but sure enough once opening his right fist, a delicate, golden chain hooked around his middle finger and a small cross dangled against his rough palm. It was beautiful.

'Jesus, it's a miracle', he stumbled out of his reverie and turned his eyes to see Officer Lopez, her mouth wide open, the others doing exactly the same. He would have laughed if it had not hurt. After hearing about his past, this was the first time any of them had actually talked to him informally. It was just a shame; it had to take him surviving death for them to make small talk.

'I guess I'm just lucky', Officer Evans grinned.

'Nope, just lucky you had Nurse Jones', Officer Hummel muttered, already missing his best friend as he turned and walked off to a bed to sit, now uninterested with Officer Evans' current situation. In his opinion, a man could change his clothes but others could still smell blood on his hands as he walked by.

'Nurse Jones?', Sam questioned, his hand gripping tighter around the cross in his palm.

'Yeah, if it weren't for her, you'd still be back at the previous base lying..', Puck made a slicing motion across his neck with a sharp sound, 'somewhere'

Officer Evans flinched, he had realised that there had been a close line for him but hearing it from someone else's lips made that line even closer.

Noticing Evans' discomfort, Officer Anderson stood up and nudged Puck in the arm painfully, 'What Puck is trying to say is that Mercedes saved your life. When the previous base was being bombed and you were out, she insisted that we bring you. She never stopped tending to you all the way through those tunnels and once we got here, she cleaned your wound and stitched you up. Never left your side. Never lost hope'

Sam tried to take this all in and process it in his mind. It only stuck when he remembered what she had said. He stared at the gold cross in his hand and smiled.

'Where is she now?', Sam asked.

'Back in Ohio with her fucked- up dad', Kurt, replied from the end of the room, still sour over the fact he never got to say goodbye.

'Ohio it is then', Sam whispered, hooking the delicate cross around his neck next to his heart. He had to find out why she would help someone like him, why she would risk her job and life helping someone like him and why she would willingly give something this precious to someone like him. He had to find her. Then, he would be fine.

Xxx

I know absolutely nothing on modern war- fare or Afghanistan so this is bound to have many mistakes so please excuse my complete lack of knowledge in this field. Also the song is 'I gave you all' by Mumford and Sons and is one of the most depressing yet beautiful songs ever so type it up on Youtube sometime. Lastly, this is my first samcedes fic (probably gonna be multichapter) ever so I hope you enjoyed this chapter enough to urge you to press the big, shiny review button below Thanks for reading!