I recently watched Black Hawk Down, and was struck by how the soldiers kept each other going, putting the lives of their "brothers" ahead of their own. As Grimes was my favorite, this came to be. Not really sure if he was shot in the foot or what, but it works with the story. Also, I've never done tough "guy angst" before, so bear with me.

Disclaimer: Nothing is mine!

Sanderson walked toward the back of the makeshift base. They'd been back for a good two hours already, and he wanted to make sure that Grimes had been taken care of.

Much to his surprise, the younger man still lay where he had left him last, slouched against his pack with his eyes closed. Most of the other wounded soldiers were gone and Sanderson assumed they were being treated by a medic. Why Grimes hadn't been treated yet didn't make any sense to him.

"Grimesy, you doin' okay?" No response. Sanderson knelt down beside the younger man, and appraised his foot. The wound had yet to be dressed, and blood oozed lazily out of the hole in his boot. The bleeding wasn't excessive, but coupled with his lack of response, was worrying. Sanderson nudged the younger man. "Grimesy!"

Grimes made no movement. Under all the dirt, his skin had a waxy sheen to it, and Sanderson's heart dropped. "Hey! We need a medic over here!"

A nearby medic came rushing over and bent to examine Grime's foot, his trained gaze going straight to the blood. He felt for a pulse before leaning down to listen to the Ranger's breathing. "How long has he been wounded?"

"Since about 8 last night," Sanderson growled. "Why the hell has nobody looked at him yet?"

Ignoring the question, the medic reached for his radio and crisply requested a drip and a stretcher. Additional medics materialized within seconds, bringing with them the requested items. As they transferred Grimes onto the stretcher and started the drip, the first responding medic rapped out his vitals. "Erratic heartbeat, shallow respiration, possible fever. This is a dirty wound, boys. We gotta work fast to prevent further infection."

With that, the medics whisked Grimes away to the med unit, leaving a very frustrated and concerned Sanderson behind. He felt guilty for not noticing the symptoms of infection earlier. He'd tried his best to keep the wound covered, but they'd had limited resources, and the run back to the base had probably aggravated the wound. Feeling the frustration turn to anger at their situation, Sanderson kicked a nearby post.

"Problem, Sergeant?" Hoot asked as he walked over.

A concerned looking Eversmann joined them. "Is that Grimes?" he asked, pointing at the retreating medics.

"Yeah."

"What the hell happened?"

"He ran through the whole fuckin' city with a hole through his foot. And nobody here thought it was important because he wasn't fuckin' bleedin' to death!"

The two other men were silent. Grimes had obviously made a serious friend in Sanderson during their foray into Mog. "He got an infection?" Eversmann asked.

"You bet he got an infection. Found him lying here all feverish and passed out."

"He'll be fine." Hoot cut in, running a hand through his sweaty hair. "Just gotta think positive. He'll pull through."

***

John Grimes sat up gingerly, and risked a glance down at his foot. It was wrapped heavily in gauze; they had gotten the infection under control and has stitched up the wound, though they wanted to keep an eye on it. Grimes had been confined to his bed for what felt like forever, and he wanted out.

Carefully, he swung his legs over the edge of his cot and was about to attempt to stand when a voice stopped him. "I wouldn't do that if I were you, soldier."

Sanderson was walking toward him. "Sergeant," Grimes said, giving a respectful smile. "I was told I owe my life to you. Again."

"Nah. I just got your back, is all," Sanderson replied modestly, shrugging. They passed a few moments in comfortable silence before he broke it once again. "How're you feelin'?"

"Fine. I'm ready to get out of here." Grimes said honestly, used to the constant pinching sensation caused by the incision.

Sanderson chuckled. "You eager to get back to the office?"

"No, sir." Grimes said, his green-blue eyes piercing as he looked directly into his superior's face. "Back into the field. Where I've got your back."