Just wanted to write an accurate military piece. Some of this is from personal experience, other parts will be dramatized.

There will be a lot of military jargon and swearing.

Enjoy. I appreciate questions, comments, and concerns.

"Specialist Rizzoli! Post!"

A tall, lean figure runs up in front of the small platoon congregated in formation behind the barracks. Only her platoon is present on this camp because of the different missions that the unit received, but she really only cares that her platoon is here to see this.

"Attention to orders: Headquarters, Department of the Army."

There's a collective stomping of feet as the platoon immediately comes to the position of attention. The dust that swirls up from their movement elicits a couple coughs.

"The President of the United States has reposed special trust and confidence in the patriotism, valor, fidelity and abilities of Specialist Jane Rizzoli. In view of these qualities and her demonstrated potential for increased responsibility, Specialist Jane Rizzoli is promoted to Sergeant with a date of rank of 12 AUG 2013."

Jane stands at attention in front her company commander and first sergeant, trying to keep a straight face as they read the promotion orders. Her grin breaks out when her platoon sergeant rips the specialist patch off the chest of her uniform and replaces it with her sergeant stripes with a hearty thump of his fist.

"Congratulations, Rizzoli. It's been a long time coming." His smile is genuine and his handshake vigorous. Jane shakes the hands of the commander and first sergeant before executing an about face to meet her platoon's enthusiastic shouts of congratulations and applause.

Jane discreetly tries to catch Specialist Frost's eye in second squad and she sees him cheering obnoxiously, bringing his fingers to his mouth to whistle loudly, eliciting grimaces and mumbled swears from his surrounding battle buddies. Her squad leader, Staff Sergeant Korsak, is clapping, a broad smile on his face. When Jane meets his eyes, he sends her a wink. She chuckles and shakes her head fondly.

She can't wait to tell Maura.

"Rizzoli."

Jane hears the voice and she feels the hand on her shoulder, shaking her. There's a ridiculously bright light in her face and she swats at it, willing it to go away. She's too tired for this shit. The task force had her and her team pulling security for 14 hours straight on a goddamn Afghan hotel that housed some higher American brass. The night shift had arrived late so they'd all returned back to base around 0100 and their next SP was 0530. She'd zombie walked straight to her cot and promptly fell asleep, weapon and all, only taking a couple seconds to drop her helmet next to her.

"Rizzoli, get the fuck up."

She groans and lifts her head out of her sleeping bag to look at her clock, grimacing at the crick in her neck caused by sleeping in all her gear. The clock reads 0315.

"What the fuck do you want, Grant?" Jane scowls at the sergeant hovering above her, purposely shining his goddamn flashlight in her eyes. "It's only 03."

Sergeant Joey Grant, professional brown-noser. No one was surprised when his E5 came through abnormally quickly, considering how he never questioned orders and always followed regulations. Unlike Jane, who was unconventional in her leadership skills, refusing to follow stupid orders that didn't make sense or put her soldiers in harm. However, Grant was ultimately a decent NCO and he took care of his soldiers. That was the only reason Jane tolerated him.

Sergeant Grant shrugs, his smirk unapologetic. "SP got moved up to 0400 so get your ass out of bed. Sergeant Korsak says be at the vics in 15."

"You have gotta be goddamn kidding me." There's rustling as Jane attempts to maneuver her way around the barracks in the dark. "I don't get paid enough for this shit."

"None of us do," Grant snickers, shining his flashlight casually around the barracks. It was a mess of equipment, clothes and discarded food from the MREs. The past week had the entire squad doing the security and none of them had been able to get any laundry done. The barracks smelled like shit and a little bit of Frost's throw up from the time they'd placed a dead camel spider in his sleeping bag. There was sand in places on her body Jane thought wouldn't be possible, but apparently was.

"Grant, be useful and go tell Frost not to forget the batteries for the NVGs this time," Jane shouts to him from inside her locker, desperately searching for an undershirt that didn't smell like Frost's puke or jalapeno cheese spread.

There's no reply from Grant, so Jane stops in her search to poke her head out and squint at the figure standing in her dark room. "Grant?"

"Rizzoli..."

"Do we need to set you up for an ear cleaning session with Doc? I said go tell Frost."

"They said this would happen." Grant's voice is uncharacteristically soft. Jane hears a deep sigh and shuffling, as if Grant is preparing himself and Jane's getting frustrated at this point because he may be an NCO too but she still has more time in service and this is absolutely not the time to go all alpha dog.

"Grant, I don't have ti—"

"Frost is gone, Rizzoli. You know that. "

She freezes, her body seizes uncontrollably. Her head is throbbing.

Because she already knew, didn't she? Frost always came to wake her up, so why was Grant in here? Frost never forgets anything, she the one that always forgets to replace the batteries in her night vision.

Her hands clench the corner of the locker and she can feel the metal dig into her palm, she grits her teeth. His statement washes over her and all she can feel is this chill in her bones and it's all she can do not to fall to her knees because she knows, she remembers,

his blood on her hands, it's warm it's warm against her skin, so he must be really warm but he's shivering why

she grabs him and presses his body against her, desperate and wild, keep him warm

her hand wiping the blood out of his eyes and the smell of burning flesh, is that hers or his?

she's whispering his name and then screaming, yelling for the medic, MEDIC

frost open your eyes, open them don't you close your eyes listen to me can you hear me can you hear my voice

frost don't you fucking dare

FROST

"Even the finest sword plunged into salt water will eventually rust."
― Sun Tzu, "The Art of War"