Disclaimer: I don't own anything from Saving Private Ryan…although Jackson does sometimes own me in my dreams and fantasies ;)

Pain, that was all that registered in his mind. He hurt everywhere. There were parts that hurt differently, like for instance his face and arms felt like they were on fire, while his chest and lower body was throbbing with a dull ache. However, once he got past the pain another thing came clear, he couldn't move! He tried to sit up but a heavy weight was holding him down and finally he realized that whatever this weight was, its pressure was probably causing the pain on his chest and legs. He almost started to panic when he decided to open his eyes and see what was on top of him. His eyes opened slowly and he blinked a few times, but there was nothing. Not a flicker of light or even a glimpse of dust that he knew had to be floating around inside of the old bombed out church, just complete blackness. Fear over took him, he couldn't see! What was left of his composure left him the second he realized this. In an instant he began to struggle to move, which only caused more pain to shoot through his body and soon his lungs were screaming for air. He couldn't deny this need, so he stopped his struggling and took as large of gulps of air that his compressed chest would allow.

As he did this he became aware of something wet that was sliding down his cheeks, slightly stinging them as they went. It took him a few seconds to understand that they were tears, his tears; he was crying. He shook his head slightly, no that wasn't right. He didn't cry he hadn't been able to cry since the battle of Normandy, and yet here he was crying. This thought only terrified him even more. He had seen many men burst into tears before their final moments. Was that going to happen to him? No, no he didn't want to die here. He didn't want to die alone, in this unfamiliar country, with some heavy unknown object preventing him from moving, and being unable to see. He wouldn't die here, not if he could help it.

"Please God, get me out of here," he whispered slightly before he screamed, which sounded more like he was barely able to choke out the words. "Ple…please, is there any…anyone there? Please help…help me!" Just this little bit caused him to have to stop and gasp for air once again. "If there is anyone there, please help," he managed to get out before he was thrown into a coughing fit. Tears were running down his cheeks once again while he tried to stop coughing. It was unbearable being trapped here and it seemed impossible that anyone would ever find him.

"Is there anyone in there?" he heard a familiar voice say. He couldn't quite place who it was but it was enough to make him feel some comfort.

"Yes in here!" he said before coughing again. "Please help me!" He then began to take shallow breaths, and hoped he wouldn't start coughing again.

"Don't worry I'm coming for you," the voice told him as he heard some footsteps that came closer to him. They stopped for a moment before they asked, "Where are you? I can't see you."

"Over here," he just barely managed to say.

"Oh my God," the voice said when it finally realized where he was. "Bumpkin is that you?"

He grinned slightly, only Reiben called him that. "Yea..yea' it's me, Reiben," he said before he started coughing again.

"God I can't believe," Reiben began to say before he changed his mind. "I'll be right back with help okay Jackson? I won't even be a minute; you just hang in there okay?"

"Alright," Jackson said before he laid his head back down. Then finally the pain and exhaustion was too much, and he drifted off to the sound of Reiben screaming for a medic.

A/N: Alright I know I should be starting another story when I have several I should be working on but I couldn't help it. This idea came into my head and I just had to run with it. I hope you all will like it!