When they emerged on the other side of the wave of sand, it was clear that not a single soul had followed them, or had any chance of finding them. By that time, the sun was shrinking rapidly towards the horizon. As soon as he thought it was safe, Troy signaled them to stop.
They all took grateful swigs of water. Troy noticed that Moffitt was still limping, though not as badly as before. Then, they spread a map over the hood of one of the jeeps and started working to determine their position.
When they seemed to be on the right track, Tully drew Moffitt aside with a few monosyllables and cleaned out the wound on his forehead, before applying a bandage from the first aid kit. Troy didn't miss the way Moffitt instinctively jerked away from Tully's grasp around his arm, and seemed to be forcing himself to stay still. He ground his teeth and concentrated on the map again.
"All right," he said. "Unless we managed to steer way off course during the storm, we should be in this area here." He outlined a tiny circle on the map.
"We can test that easily enough," Moffitt responded. He nodded and smiled his thanks at Tully, and then walked over to the map. "We head east and we should hit this oasis within about six hours. From there, we can drive back to the maps."
"Here." Troy jabbed his finger at the point that he had seared into his memory the moment they finished burying the documents. He leaned heavily against the fender and looked up at the sun. "Well, it'll be night soon. I don't think we'll gain anything by starting out right now. Plus, I don't know about you, but I'm about ready to start eating rocks."
"You're in luck," Hitch said, smirking. "Rations are the next best thing. Definitely taste the same."
They ate their MREs in silence, pausing only to shake the sand out of their boots and hair. Troy knew that Moffitt must have noticed the way he kept looking over at him with wary concern. He kept his expression studiously blank.
When they had scraped up the last crumbs of rations, Tully cleared away the remains of the meal, while they pulled out their bedrolls.
"I'll take first watch," Moffitt volunteered.
Troy gave him a curt nod. "Sure. Wake me up next, all right?"
Moffitt nodded. While the rest of them bedded down in the sand, he took position on the apex of the dune.
Troy stretched out his sore body in the thin, rough bedroll. He fixed his eyes on the bright stars choking the black sky. Any other night and he would have been out like a light, after the chase, capture, and finally escape. Tonight, though, he wasn't close to sleeping; not with one of his men wound up tighter than a watch spring, looking like he was about to snap.
He waited until he was sure that Tully and Hitch were asleep. It wasn't hard to fight off exhaustion with the bitter cold seeping into his bones.
Finally, when he was just about convinced that he had been frozen solid, he crawled out of the bedroll and carefully stood up.
Moffitt was curled up into a tight ball, long legs pressed up to his chest, arms folded over his head. He looked like a child, trying to hide by making himself as small as possible. Troy forced the thought away.
As soon as Troy started walking toward him, Moffitt's head snapped up and he braced his arms by his sides, ready to jump into action.
"What is it?" he whispered tensely.
Troy shook his head. "Nothing," he said in a low voice. He knew that noise traveled far and strong in the flat silence of the desert, but he also knew that Tully and Hitch were dead to the world. He didn't think they would be overheard.
He sat down next to him, elbows resting on his knees. He looked out over the dry, gray ocean of sand, before turning to Moffitt's wide, gray eyes.
"How you doing?" he asked.
Moffitt shrugged. "Alive. Can't complain. Be much better once we can retrieve the maps."
"You know what I mean."
Moffitt looked unfazed. "What do you mean, Troy?"
Troy sighed. Of course, Moffitt wasn't going to make this easy. He pushed forward anyway. "After those SS goons grabbed you—"
"I didn't tell them anything," Moffitt interrupted. Troy caught the tense note to his voice that Moffitt was trying to hide.
Troy shook his head. "I know you enough, I don't need to ask that." He paused a moment. "Did they ask?"
"No."
Moffitt clutched his legs tight to his chest, like he would break apart if he didn't hold himself together. Troy could see every muscle pulled taut, ready to run at any moment.
"You wanna talk about what happened?"
"It doesn't matter now," Moffitt said with a tired sigh. He shifted, hunching further over himself. "It's all over. Not worth dwelling on."
"You don't look like it."
Moffitt looked out over the desert. "I'll be fine."
"Moffitt…"
Moffitt turned back to him eyes flashing. "I should think you've already guessed what happened. Do you need to hear me say it?"
Troy's eyes hardened and he put on his commander's tone. "I need to know that all of my men are here with me, right here, right now, if we're gonna have a chance of getting out of this alive."
A long moment passed while Troy and Moffitt matched each other's gazes. Finally, Moffitt's shoulders slumped. "I'm here, Troy," he said softly.
Troy didn't look away. "Are you?"
Moffitt kept his face impassive, but Troy saw him gripping his knees more tightly.
Troy sighed. "Get some sleep," he said.
Moffitt shook his head. "I'm all right."
"That's an order."
A small smile flickered at the corners of Moffitt's mouth. He stood up and started down the dune. Halfway down, he turned back and whispered, "Thank you, Troy."
Troy's mouth went dry. He couldn't think what to say. He only managed a small, curt nod. His eyes went back to the desert, as he listened to Moffitt bedding down.
He knew that little "thank you;" it was the same one that all of them shared when they got pulled out of a tough spot. It was each of their best attempt to take the huge tangle of gratitude and trust that their team was based on and turn it into words, acknowledging in an offhand way what they all knew to their bones: that they always stood by each other, no matter what.
Troy had given that thank you as often has he received it, and he had no idea how in the hell he was supposed to deserve it now.
After a few minutes, he looked over at Moffitt. The man was turned away from him, his legs straight and back tense. Troy knew that he was far from sleep.
He watched Moffitt feign rest for a moment, and then turned back to the desert. He let the past twelve hours out in a long, ragged breath, and turned his mind to the search for the maps, banishing any non-military thought from his brain.
He felt Moffitt lying awake, until it came time for Tully to relieve him. Then, he didn't have the energy to think another thought before sleep claimed him.