I don't own anything; it all goes to Hasbro and such. Reviews would be appreciated, suggestions welcome, and constructive criticism looked forward to. I don't think I have anything else to say, so read and hopefully you can enjoy.

Shadows and Gold

Prologue

Slowly, painfully I opened my eyes. Sunlight barely streaked in, the dirt room cast into many dark shadows. My whole body was in agony, and I gritted my teeth together as I tested my restraints. They were a little looser than before the last beating, before I was knocked into unconsciousness. The shadows moved minute by minute, and I could tell that the sun was setting, and that night was almost upon me. With a heavy sigh, I assessed my current situation.

To say it wasn't looking up would be a huge understatement.

I couldn't feel my legs anymore, which left me in a state where I was grateful but also concerned. I was glad that I didn't have that searing pain anymore, however if I couldn't feel them…well, let's just say that isn't good. They were practically shredded up to the knees and bent at unnatural angles.

My right shoulder was dislocated and the left was on its way to being so, too. It was hard to say, because I'm not medical professional, but I was beginning to suspect my right forearm was broken while the left was merely fractured.

Ribs were broken and cracked, that I could feel without prodding, not that I could, considering my wrists were shackled above my head where I sat. I tried not to move that much, not only to ward off potential discomfort, but I didn't know if one of those bones would poke something extremely vital, like a lung or my heart.

That would put a damper on my day.

My pelvic bone would need to be reshaped, I knew. I ached down below my waist, from the many times they had come in and done their…dirty deed to me. Ignoring that, I continued on with my assessment. Numerous cuts and lacerations littered my body, some festering with infections. I knew I had a fever, if my fine sweat was anything to go off of. The most noticeable was the slowly scabbing gash that ran across my face. It started from the left side of my forehead and crossed over. It went over my eye, completely destroying it and leaving me blind in it, across my cheek. Then it turned downward, following my neck and ending just below my collar bone. It had hurt like nobody's business.

The pain should've driven anyone insane, and they should've begged for mercy, to be let free of all of it. I was not like most, though. This wasn't my first crack at neither torture nor rape. I had survived it before, and I would do it again, just to prove to the world that I wouldn't let anything take me down.

Time passed both slowly and quickly. Days trickled into one another, blending together. I wasn't sure how long I had been here. It had to be over a couple months, but definitely less than five years. Not very narrow, I know, but it was something to work with. I listened to the familiar sounds of the diurnal critters tucking themselves away for some much needed sleep, while others began to rouse from their chosen beds.

Sometimes, if it was a clear, crisp night, and you got to sit out in the middle of it, it was like you were on a totally different planet. Sidewinder snakes 'stepped' across the cooling sand, diving into it to stay warm. The evening bugs came out and began to sing their songs. The stars twinkled and winked as the moon watched from above, as if keeping an eye out for all the little critters. Maybe a breeze would flow by, and the fine grains of desert sand would skid over the others. The few bushes or other plant life would rustle softly, like they were trying to keep from disturbing the aura. It was utterly amazing and beautiful.

Another antagonizing sigh escaped my cracked, bruised lips. I wanted to be free, to see all that again. I was starting to forget what the moon looked like, how the stars shined, how the sun vibrantly glowed. That's what happens when you are in solitary confinement while being a prisoner of war. For crying out loud, I rather sit outside every day, all day than be stuck in here!

So lost in my thoughts I was, that I didn't register the darkness being chased away from the sun's rays as it penetrated through my small window. What did pierce through my fog of thought were the heavy footfalls of two approaching men. They were coming for my morning interrogation. And to give me insufficient food and water, just enough to keep me alive, but not enough to function properly.

The guard posted just outside my jail's door opened it and allowed the two to enter. One was burlier, his muscles more defined. He was the bodyguard of the second, I think. The smaller, less muscular man was carrying a tray with bits of bread and a filthy glass half full of brackish-looking water. He set the tray on the floor beside me, to tempt me, but I was stronger than that.

The smaller man was the translator. I could speak their language, pretty fluently, too, but I wasn't about to let them know that piece of information. His English was shaky at best, but for them, it was better than nothing. The bodyguard stood on the other side, his AK-47 hanging from one shoulder, and under the other arm was a case full of torture instruments. I knew that because they often brought that in with them.

At this early, are we? Okay then, bring it on.

"Want water?" the translator asked, and I could see the start of a predatory smirk on his face. His accent almost drowned out the words, but I wasn't trained to be the best for nothing. I gave him a glare that, in a fair world, would've dropped him dead. My lips curled up in distaste at the smell of alcohol rolling off of him and his companion.

My outward appearance didn't shift, but my heart began to beat a little faster. I could feel the adrenalin slip into my blood. No, not this early! I didn't have any time to recover from last night! No!

Alas, it still happened. And it hurt. I hated that they enjoyed it, I hated that it couldn't be with someone who returned my feelings, even though I never had someone like that. Helplessness filled me, and with my eyes closed, I could feel the tears pricking behind the lids. They were like little daggers, wanting to be free. But I wouldn't give these idiots the satisfaction of knowing that they kept breaking me little by little.

I had the rest of the day to myself. No more visits, no more interrogations, nothing. Oh, how I wanted to cry and vent my grief, my anger, my weakness. I wanted to be free of this…but in the end, I knew no one would come for me. Sure, I was one-of-a-kind, but I was also expendable. I didn't get close to anyone for this reason. I knew of my job, of my missions, and I refused to cause good people that pain of losing me. So I closed myself off, not letting any emotions through. People turned away from me, called me cold and heartless.

Those words hurt, struck my heart more than they thought possible. But it was for their own good. I couldn't let them know I cared, that I died a little more if someone didn't make it home alive. I took it all to heart…and they didn't know any of that.

There were times when I thought someone would come to my aid, but it never happened. After a while, I began to accept the fact that I had no one. That I would die alone, leaving the world quietly and unnoticed. No one would mourn my passing, because, in the end, I didn't matter…

Stop the self-pity! You're a Marine, for crying out loud! No pity-parties for you; you don't need them. Buck up. You'll get out of this. You always do.

I looked around my prison with renewed spirit and determination. I tested my restraints, ecstatic that they were slack enough that I could pull them from the dirt wall. It took a couple of extremely antagonizing pulls, but eventually my wrists broke free. Now for the next problem…how to walk. They were useless. I would never be able to walk on them, so I wasn't even going to try. I guess crawling would have to suffice. I grabbed the AK-47 that was left in here by the bodyguard earlier in the day and listened for movement.

Cracking the door open the tiniest bit, I noticed the guard was dozing. Bad for him, good for me. I hated taking a life. All life was sacred, and only God should decide, but unfortunately, at the end of the day, someone always died. I shot the guard, and he dropped dead, having never suspected a thing. I listened intently for anything that suggested that I alerted any more. I poked my head out, looking both ways carefully.

The last prisoner, who had been killed not long after my arrival, had told me that they had an escape tunnel to the left of the door. It was cleverly hidden, dirt carefully laid over the trap door, but I found it. This was supposed to go for a ways, popping out somewhere downhill of the base. But it hadn't been used for years because of it being structurally unstable. Hey, sometimes you have to take crazy risks.

I levered myself down into the tunnel, making sure it looked like I had gone the other way. With broken and cracked bones, dragging my body wasn't easy, and I began to bleed again, but I had to get free. If anything, I would die a free woman, not some prisoner of the enemy.

I am the daughter of a free-spirited Navajo woman, a Navy nurse, and a brave African-American Navy SEAL. I am Colonel Thana Kalu, United States Marine Corps, and I don't take crap from anybody.