A/N: Short chapter. Hopefully the next one will be longer.

Tristan Hassett was pretty happy at the moment. It was hard not to be.

They were at the beach, a certain Sergeant Major wasn't trying to deafen them anymore, they had a couple long, precious hours before sunset, and the view Cover Girl and Scarlett provided was just stunning.

Sure, he was a little tired even though he and his fellow greenshirts had rested a full half-hour after Beach Head's training. Who wouldn't be? Okay, fine, so maybe the ninjas would still be bouncing around. "Gawddamn spooks," as the Lord of PT had always put it. Oh, well. So what? It wasn't as if he and his buddies had no experience in the ocean before. Besides, they weren't on a mission. They were going to stay close to shore, where their feet could touch the bottom.

Tristan couldn't hold back a smile as he entered the water. Finally, a chance to actually enjoy the ocean and play in its waves. He slowly began to relax, allowing his body to adjust to the temperature of the water-

He shrieked loudly when cold sea water splashed over his head. "AUGH! Sonuvabitch!" he sputtered as he started swimming rapidly after his attacker, who began hollering with laughter as he struggled to get as far away as he could.

A few minutes later, the five of them were having the ultimate water-fight. The surface of the water turned foamy and white as they splashed each other. The air was filled with unrestrained laughter and incoherent exclamations, half of which were probably Beach Head-influenced curse phrases.

They were so preoccupied with their playing, that they didn't notice that they were all treading water.

Tristan paused long enough in his splashing to notice that - damn - the Joes on the beach looked really small. He blinked a few times to make sure he wasn't hallucinating. Holy shit. Since when did they get so far away from the shore?

"Guys? Hey, guys!" He made a 'T' with his hands. Time out.

"What? What is it?" His buddy wiped water from his face.

Tristan pointed towards the beach. "We went too far out. We should really stay close to shore." He grinned. "This is Deep-Six and Wet-Suit's territory. Who knows where they are? They could be right under us, ready to pull one of us under any moment."

Right on cue, the other four men snuck a glance underwater. Tristan rolled his eyes. "Guys..."

"Okay, okay. Let's go," one of his fellow greenshirts chuckled as they began breaststroking back.

They talked and joked on the way, but after about ten minutes, one of them made the comment, "We're not getting closer."

Silence fell over the group as the members slowly came to the same conclusion. "Guess we'll have to swim faster." Tristan dipped his head and automatically shifted to a loose freestyle.

After what was more than enough time, he lifted his head again. He froze. His blood turned cold, and his heart pounded in his ears.

They weren't any closer than they were before. And he wasn't sure, but land actually looked further than it had been half an hour ago.

They were stuck at sea.

Despite knowing better, he let panic seize him by the throat.

It didn't take Beach Head long to feel that something was amiss. Not long at all. Maybe it was because he was on edge to begin with. Or maybe because greenshirts plus alone time usually equaled trouble. He squinted as he looked out over the water, making out five splashing forms. He grumbled quietly. Such a waste of precious time.

At least he now had time to rethink his PT course and make a few... changes. So what if the greenies would hate him and Cover Girl tomorrow? She was the one who traded extra training for a few hours of playtime. Oh, yes. The team would absolutely love the new changes to the course.

A sound refocused his attention on the new recruits. Still splashing, as always, but it appeared a little more... frantic.

He was on his feet in a second. "MAGGOTS! What're you doin'?" he bellowed.

"What is going on? What are the greenshirts doing now?" Cover Girl straightened up. Scarlett trotted over.

For once, Beach ignored her. He took a deep breath. Both women covered their ears. "YER STUCK IN A RIP CURRENT! Swim ABREAST to the shore! Swim ABREAST to the shore!"

At the words 'rip current,' the men panicked. Arms flailing, legs kicking, mouths gasping, as they tried even harder to swim directly back. Something - anything - to get out of the water. The water that was dragging them further and further out to sea.

"They're not listening."

Beach turned around and stepped so close to Storm that their noses almost touched. "Shuttap, ya damn spook," he growled. "They WILL listen to me."

"HEY! Swim. Parallel. To. The. Beach!" Scarlett screamed as she motioned to her right with large, sweeping arm motions.

A black and tan blur charged past her, heading straight for the water. Scarlett's eyes widened and she chased after it. "Wait, Snake! Your mask! You won't be able to breathe!"

Snake completely disregarded her, jumped onto a nearby breakwater, and began sprinting across the rocks out to the ocean. Scarlett followed easily, although she was soon surpassed by a quietly cursing Storm.

Snake-Eyes took one, two, three precise steps, then he was soaring through the air. His body arched as he entered the water smoothly and began swimming towards the greenshirts.

"Stupid gaijin!" Storm hissed as he picked up his speed and launched himself off of a boulder and into the water. Scarlett joined him in the water within seconds.

Shoot. Scarlett was right, Snake soon realized. His mask filled with water immediately, dragging against his face as he angled up from the shallow dive to begin the race to the struggling greenies. He came up with a powerful kick, but his soaked mask sealed off his nose as he surfaced, causing him to nearly inhale the water. Willing himself to remain calm, he took an agonizingly slow breath, forcefully drawing air through the saturated fabric. He settled with breathing through his mouth and almost wished he hadn't. Salty droplets of seawater splattered against and stung the back of his tongue with every labored breath he took. The next time he surfaced, he coughed hard, his throat on fire. Then he continued swimming. A voice he recognized as his brother's kept on shouting something at him, but he pushed onward. The worst news Storm could give him at the moment was that there was a shark in the area, which still wouldn't change the objective. In fact, if anything, it would only reinforce the need to get the greenshirts out of the water as soon as possible.

Just then, one of the struggling men dipped under the water and didn't resurface. No! Snake took a deep breath and fought the urge to cough as he dove down. He wrapped an arm around the greenshirt from behind and began swimming towards the surface. Air. The man needed air, or he wouldn't live long.

Turns out, that was one of the worst decisions he had ever made.

A/N: =D