"Hey. Delphine." A hand poked at her side, and she shifted away from it, pulling her blanket up over her head. "C'mon, Blondie. That's Reveille. Wakey wakey." The cover got ripped from over her head.

She groaned, squinting into the artificial light of the barracks. "trop tôt, Beth."

"I have no idea what you said, but too bad." Beth tugged on her arm, pulling her from her bed. "If you don't pass inspection by the time they come around, none of us will."

Delphine rolled so that her feet landed on the floor and she sat up, rubbing crusted sleep from her eyes. "All right, all right. I'm awake."

"Good." Beth walked the few feet to her bunk and started to make her bed, fluffing the blanket up into the air and letting it flutter down onto the center. "We've got that ride along today, remember? Gotta be in tip top shape for the gossip rags."

"Then you should let me get my beauty rest." Delphine stood and began to make her own bed, as well.

"Not my fault you're a night owl." She tossed over her shoulder, not even glancing up from where she was now crouched next to the bed, making sure the blankets were tucked in tightly and smoothly. She turned around, watching Delphine as she finished making her own. "Race you to the latrine!"

The ride in the humvee was bumpy, as always, but somehow being in the back of the truck made it worse. Delphine was trying to listen to the journalist next to her, but she found she couldn't focus on it. It was enough, being in this desert wasteland, she really didn't need a camera in her face and a constant barrage of questions on top of it. She missed having just her unit with her, they all had the decency to be quiet this early in the morning.

"Cormier, that is a familiar name." The journalist sitting next to her said, cocking her head to the side slightly to indicate it was intended as a question.

"Oh. Yes." She turned back with a weak smile, one of her hands digging into her own thigh through her camo. "It's a somewhat common name in France."

"Ah."

Delphine glanced back out the window, only to have the woman who had been previously talking to Beth turn to her. "You seem reluctant to talk to us, Corporal Cormier. Is everything all right?"

Beth turned her head enough that Delphine could see her smirk, eyebrows lifting in a silent laugh, though she said nothing.

"Oh, yes. My apologies, I had trouble sleeping last night."

"Look fine to me." The photographer muttered under her breath, snapping another photo of Delphine who held her eyeroll until she'd lifted her head away from the camera.

"Cormier always looks great." Beth called out over the rumble of the truck's tires on the dusty ground. "That's why we keep her around."

Delphine laughed, shaking her head. "You're a brat, Childs."

"Hey!" She glanced over her shoulder, throwing a smile at her friend. "Who's the Sergeant here, Blondie?"

Cormier crossed her arms over her chest, turning her head to look back out the window.

"That's what I thought."

"So, Corporal, what made you want to go into military translation?" The woman in the front seat asked, smile wide and friendly across her face. If Delphine decided to like one of these people, it would be her. Unfortunately, her patience for journalists on the battleground was practically non-existent.

There was a crackle on their radio, saving Delphine from responding, and a voice came through. "Gunfire reported in the town square, possible terrorist activity, proceed with caution."

Beth picked up the radio, and held down the side button. "Truck Alpha Foxtrot three oh responding." She grinned over at the journalist next to her. "You ready for some real action?"

Beth had always had a flair for the dramatic, but the sharp 180 she took that armored truck in was a little much, even for Delphine, and she grasped at the roll cage to keep from crashing into the red-haired journalist next to her. The sounds of gunfire got nearer and nearer, and she felt herself tighten her grip around her gun subconsciously.

"All right. When we get there, stay. In. the fucking. Car. You'll be safe in here." She tugged at the wheel, taking them around a tight corner and making them all sway to the left. "We'll let you know when it's okay to come out. This is only for your safety, do you-"

The truck pitched away from the loudest noise Delphine had ever heard, sending it toppling over on its side until it landed on its hood. There was shouting—lots of shouting, and she struggled to keep her eyes open. She could see blood all over the journalist next to her and her photographer friend, and she tried to gauge their injuries using only sight. Were they dead? A blackness, thick and heady began to descend over her, and she squinted in an attempt to compromise between the blinding pain in her head that willed her to close her eyes and her will to stay conscious and help the others.

"Beth?" She called, clawing dumbly at the belt at her waist. She managed to find the clasp and she fell onto the hood of the car. "Merde. Beth!" She called again, navigating around the bloody, unconscious bodies next to her. "Are you...?" A rush of blackness hit her again, leaving her with bursts of light behind her eyelids and she groaned, feeling it spread into her limbs. "Qu'est-ce qui ce passe?"

She was the first to wake up. She could tell because there wasn't a single noise around her, not even the faintest, most distant one. Her eyelids pulled apart with sticky difficulty, and she thanked god it was apparently nighttime because the inky darkness didn't exasperate the blinding pain in her head. She brought a hand up to the back of her head and found brittle wetness. When she pulled it back and squinted, she saw red crumbles in her hand.

"Merde."

She glanced around, trying to figure out where she was and why. The bodies of the journalists were tossed into careless heaps onto the cement floor underneath them, contorted in unnatural shapes. She caught camoflauge out of the corner of her eye and she crawled over to it, pulling at the arm so the figure fell onto her back.

Her eyes were closed. She wasn't dead. If there was a higher power, they were certainly smiling on this lot today. "Beth." She stroked at her forehead gently, not wanting to jostle her in case she'd broken any bones.

Beth shook her head, letting out a little whimper. "Wha?" Her eyes fluttered open, and she squinted. "Cormier? Where the hell are we?"

Delphine sat back on her heels, retracting her hand back to her thigh. "I don't know. Are you all right?"

"I think so." She sat up, swaying slightly before chuckling. "Just a little light-headed."

"Yeah. Me, too. Explosions will do that, I suppose."

"Explosion." Beth said, rubbing at her forehead. "Okay, yeah. That makes sense. What doesn't make sense is why we're not buried underneath a hummer right now."

"That I have no guesses on." She rubbed at the aching muscles of her shoulders. "My assumption is we've made the POW list."

"What an honor." Beth deadpanned, turning to look at the other bodies around them. "The journalists—they all right?"

"I don't know." She stood, walking over to the first one she noticed. It was the one with the glasses—what was her name again? Cosmo? She touched a gentle hand to her arm. "Hey." The girl didn't respond, and she felt her heart rate pick up in her chest. "Hey... You. Wake up." She exhaled through her nose, letting her eyes fall shut. "Please don't be dead."

"Not dead." The journalist below her slurred, opening her eyes slowly. "I don't think I am, at least. And my name's Cosima." She propped herself up on her elbows, took in their surroundings. "Fuck."

"My thoughts exactly." Beth was standing now, trying to get a glimpse out the window that was an easy foot above her head.

"Will you all shut it?" The photographer groaned, English accent thick in her drowsiness. "Christ, I feel like I fell off the wagon again."

"We're all alive, then." Delphine felt a smile wash over her. Maybe everything wasn't terrible. Maybe they could get out of this.

"Wait. Where's Katja?" Cosima, still on her back in front of Delphine, asked.

"Who?" Beth gave up on the window, instead turning to lean against the wall.

"Katja." She reaffirmed, urgency in her voice growing even stronger. "Y'know. Bright red hair, thick German accent. Can't miss her."

"I don't know."

"Sarah, do you see her anywhere?" Cosima looked at the photographer with panic flashing in her eyes.

"I can't see anything you can't."

"Shit." Cosima muttered, lifting her torso fully off the ground and glancing around quickly. "Shit, shit, shit."

"Oi. Cos. It'll be all right. I'm sure she's fine." Sarah crawled over and put a comforting hand around Cosima's shoulders. "She probably got away. Help's probably on the way. Everything's gonna be okay."

Delphine glanced up, catching Beth's eye from across the small cell. No, things were most definitely not going to be okay.

This would not get out of my head. And I'm hoping that by writing it, it'll dissipate so I can focus on other things, too! Also, I'm gonna level with you here: I know next to nothing about the military. So, I apologize a billion times over if I completely butchered that shit. Also, I'm sorry for making Beth American, I just know even less about Canadian military than I do the United States army, so... there's that. Anyway, hope you liked it or whatevs.