Apology and Disclaimer:

Greetings all! Firstly, yet again another apology for the monumental delay in updates. Work has been RIDICULOUS and to be honest, I really haven't had the inspiration to write recently. However, I have made it my New Year Resolution to make more time for my own creative writing, and that includes my FF work. So yes, we are back, baby!

This chapter is really to get my head back into that 'special place' where I can find inspiration and motivation to start work again, so it's a bit of a 'filler', but I thought it would be nice to take a little break from the main story-arc and explore the back story of Colby and Diane a bit. We'll be back to the main story next chapter and, ah, what the hell, I might even blow some sh!t up just for the hell of it! Anyway, I hope you enjoy this little wander down memory lane.

As always, I don't have anything to do with the cast, crew or writers of Numb3rs, but the Brits and the story are all mine.

Cue credits and wonky Numb3rs board…

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Colby lay in that blissful state between sleep and waking. Everything seemed so far away, so distant, so…blurred…

The room was quiet except for the regular bleep of a heart monitor. David sat silently next to the bed, watching his friend. He'd done this too many times. He never told Colby how much it twisted him up inside to see his best friend hurt like this. Granger seemed to have a complete disregard for the value of his own life, and when he woke up, David was determined to tell the son of a bitch exactly how he felt this time! "You gotta stop doing this to me, brother. You really have gotta stop doing this, man." David's voice was a mere whisper. He didn't want to wake Colby just yet – the painkilling drugs they had pumped into him had completely knocked the poor guy sideways. He had tried to explain to them that Colby's inability to tolerate certain types of painkillers was such that it could cause him to hallucinate badly. Inadvertently, the hospital's attempts to make the injured man more comfortable had resulted in Colby slipping in and out of consciousness and, by the looks of it, dreaming intensely…

David bent forward as he saw Colby's eyelids flicker and he carefully stroked the man's hair back from his forehead. "Easy, big guy. Easy…"

The gentle whoosh of the surf breaking on the beach was always a soft and comforting sound to wake up to. Colby loved it here. The beach house had become his home – a real home he never thought he'd ever have. A home with a woman he loved more than life itself. A woman he had been destined to spend his life with from the moment he first met her in the middle of one hell of an operation all those years ago. He let his mind wander back to that first time. That first time he'd seen her…

It had all started in Kunar Province...

Granger. Captain. Colby John. Bravo Zulu two zero three three one seven one. Attached to CID as a cover, but in fact working as an intelligence officer for Delta Force. Colby had spent more time behind enemy lines than the damn enemy had. He'd shown a natural aptitude for covert operations and his linguistic abilities and sheer ferocity in combat had marked him out to be of particular interest to some very important people in military intelligence. As the war ground relentlessly on, it was quite clear that the usual rules of engagement weren't working. They had to play the Taliban at their own game. And that meant going dark.

The darkest, most covert bastards of the lot were the Brits. While the regular troops worked openly alongside their American counterparts, there were sections of the British Army that were never seen socialising with the 'squaddies', who came in and out on unmarked heelos, wore no insignia and rarely stayed for more than a few brief hours on base. He'd seen one of the grey, unmarked helicopters land at the Forward Operating Base one day and a group of figures climb out, their faces hidden behind sunglasses and caps, no sign of rank, regiment or even whether they were civilians or not on their clothes. He'd watched the team unload light kit bags from the 'copter, and noticed one of his British friends from the Parachute regiment watching them too. Colby had wandered over to Steve, his eyes never leaving the team by the helicopter. "Hey bud."

Steve had nodded in response. "Wotchya, Granger."

"So who are those guys, then?"

Steve had turned to him with a grin. "The Taliban's worst nightmare, mate. That's the Hereford crew."

Colby had frowned. "What?"

"The 22nd, mate. Her majesty's very own arse-kicking bastards, the SAS." Steve had chuckled. "Someone's about to have a really bad day, Col. That's Armstrong's lot."

"Armstrong? As in Captain Armstrong?"

"The very same, old son." Steve jerked his head towards the group. "See the slightly slimmer figure on the left with all the curves in the right places? That's her."

"Really?" Colby studied the tall, muscular woman intently. "Man, I thought she was like, some kinda seven foot uber-soldier, the way you guys talked about her!"

"Do what?"

Colby stared blankly at his friend. "I thought she'd be taller, bud."

Steve chuckled merrily. "Dude, what she lacks in seven foot uber-soldiery-ness, she more than makes up for in groin-twisting, eye-gouging ferocity, mate. She trained in Krav Maga with the Israelis, she's a Ninjutsu and Aikido black belt and I promise you, you do not wanna get involved in a bar fight with her. Not ever. Especially if it involves two dwarfs, a lap dancer and half of the Dusseldorf Police department." Steve grinned broadly at his American friend.

Colby stared in disbelief at his friend. "Man, I so wanna hear that story!"

Steve laughed heartily and slapped Colby on the shoulder. "Mate, I'll tell it to you some time over a beer, okay? But right now?" He jerked a thumb towards the 'Hereford crew'. "Their presence means that something bad is going to happen to some buggers who probably richly deserve everything they get. Count on it." Steve chuckled again and wandered off, leaving Granger staring at the SAS soldiers in the distance.

For a brief moment, Captain Armstrong had paused and slowly turned her head directly towards Granger. Her eyes, hidden by the black wraparound sunglasses she wore, nevertheless seemed to bore into Granger's own eyes and down to his very soul. He felt the colour rising in his cheeks. She was looking straight at him, studying him intently from behind those pitch black glasses. He suddenly felt very exposed and, embarrassed at being caught out by the woman, looked away quickly. He decided that retreat was the better part of valour and jogged away after Steve, determined to find out more about the two dwarves, the lap dancer and the Dusseldorf Police department…

Captain Armstrong watched the big American jog off across the base and chuckled to herself quietly. Her attention was rudely brought back to the here and now by a large and very heavy black kitbag hitting her in the chest. She grabbed it just in time to stop it falling to the ground and spun around, glaring angrily at a grinning Gary Parks. "Wakey wakey, guv! You with us here, or are you checking out the local talent?"

"Bollocks, Gary."

Gary Parks laughed heartily. "Point 'im out to me guv, and I'll do some reccy work for ya."

"Parks, I suggest you sleep with one eye open tonight, you cheeky fucker." Armstrong shot the heavy kit bag back at Gary, attempting to catch him unaware. He caught it deftly and grinned.

"Always do, guv. Always do…"

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A remote part of the Afghan/Pakistan border…

Colby crouched behind the wall, waiting for the go. The unit had been dropped in under cover of darkness and had made their way to the village on foot. This far behind enemy lines, the Taliban thought that they were relatively safe and hadn't bothered to mine the road into the village with IEDs. Nevertheless, the intel had warned of potentially fierce resistance once they were inside the village and to proceed with extreme caution.

This was about as 'black ops' as it got. They were across the border by about twenty clicks and were very much 'on their own'. If they were caught this far into Pakistan's territory, it could cause a major international incident. But they needed the intelligence that they knew was being kept in the safe house, and that meant taking risks that carried with them an element of 'plausible deniability' if they were caught. They wore no insignia, the kit had all been carefully adapted so that it didn't have any indication of being US or UK military issue and all of the team members had been chosen for their particular covert ops skills. Colby was working with Bravo team. He knew Alpha team had already got into position and, quite possibly, were already inserting into the rambling old building.

The target had once been an old Maharaja's summer palace. The marble opulence had long since disintegrated into crumbling ruins, and much of the building was a mere shell – a dilapidated echo of its former glory. Colby's fingers tensed around the grip of his M4 Carbine as he waited, trying to stop the pounding in his heart from becoming so loud it would give away his position. It was always like this, no matter how many times you went on a mission. Those last few seconds, when the slightest thing could give you away…when a shout meant discovery and the possibility of a short and probably terminal firefight… His mouth was as dry as the desert around them. He knew that his team were poised to go in, but the interminable waiting seemed to drag on forever…

"Bravo team…go, go, go!"

No sooner had the final 'go!' crackled in his ear than Colby was over the wall and scuttling towards the insertion point. He saw dark, fleeting figures flitting across the open ground that surrounded the crumbling palace. A second figure, crouched double and moving surprisingly quickly, dropped down next to him and briefly he looked into the camouflaged face of Micky Cox. The British SAS soldier flashed a brilliant grin at his friend and nodded upwards towards the open window. Micky held up three fingers and counted down. Three…two…one…

The two men popped up like jack-rabbits and the noses of the M4 Carbines pointed through the window. The fat noise reducers on the end of the barrels muffled the crack of the shots to an almost inpercievable 'thump' and for two Taliban soldiers, the war was well and truly over. Micky hopped through the window, closely followed by Granger. A brief nod and the two men split up, moving in opposite directions down long, dark corridors lined with doors and side rooms.

As Colby silently crept along the corridor, he knew that throughout the house his comrades were doing the same. A silent sweep of the house, any resistance was to be met with deadly, but quiet force. The object was to avoid raising the alarm for as long as possible. Get to the primary target, grab, and get the fuck out before the drone strike came in…

In the distance Colby could hear a rapid conversation in Punjabi. He spoke several languages, but couldn't understand what was being said. All he knew was that there were at least two, possibly three unfriendlys ahead of him…

A hand reached out from a dark doorway and clamped around his mouth. With surprising force, he was pulled back into the shadows and before he had a chance to struggle he felt himself pinned against a wall. Inches from his face a pair of intense, emerald-green eyes bored into his own. His captor had a finger pressed to their lips in a wordless and urgent signal to stay silent. He held his breath and stayed statue-still as three Taliban warriors wandered past their hiding spot, chattering in a mixture of Pushtu and Punjabi. The voices faded into the distance and Colby heard his captor let out a quiet sigh of relief. The soldier chanced a brief glance into the corridor, their hand still clamped across Colby's mouth. Colby gently tapped his captor's hand and raised an eyebrow.

"Bugger. Sorry." The voice was soft and tinged with a strong London accent. It was also female…

Captain Diane Armstrong took her hand away from Colby's mouth and flashed a brief grin at him. "Sorry 'bout that, twinkle toes, but you were about to walk smack bang into our friends there. Nice going." She kept her voice to a mere whisper.

Colby grinned and whispered back. "Thanks for the save."

Armstrong nodded briefly. "You must be the Yank."

"You must be the chick."

Diane raised an eyebrow, but Colby could see a twitch of mirth pulling at the corner of her mouth. "Hmm. I see you've been spending far too much time with Micky Cox. Remind me to kick his fat backside when I see him."

Colby suppressed the urge to chuckle and merely grinned at her. "Will do. Right now…"

"…Yes. I know. We have work to do. We're here to cover your arses. So I suggest you drag yours that-a-way, old son." Armstrong pointed down the corridor. "Third door on the left. Hope you're as good a safe-cracker as they say you are, Granger."

Colby grinned again. "Sweetheart, put it this way. If I wasn't such a morally upstanding, apple pie eating, all-American guy, I'd make one hell of a criminal!" He winked cheekily at Armstrong and was instantly gone, disappearing into the shadows.

Armstrong watched the big American silently vanish into the gloom. She smiled quietly to herself. Granger was exactly what she had expected. Gary Parks had spoken very highly of the man, and coming from him, that was good enough for her. If Gary trusted Granger, then so did she and every other member of her team. She pressed her comms and whispered quietly into the mike; "All units, stand by…"

Colby darted into the doorway and saw the safe at the end of the room. He trotted silently over to it and crouched down in front of the heavy door, placing his M4 Carbine on the floor next to him. Scanning the lock, he could see that the dial was worn and sloppy. This should be a breeze… Slowing his breathing, he fished out a stethoscope that he had commandeered from a member of the Medical Corps. Pulling out his comms earpiece and popping in the stethoscope, he pressed the 'scope against the lock. It was old-school, but on an ancient safe like this it was still the best way to open it quickly and without too much fuss. He focused on the sound of the internal tumbler as he slowly turned the dial, waiting for a distant click inside…

Behind him he heard an indistinct noise. Instantly the M4 was back in his hand and he spun around. Staring at him was a dark-skinned man, brown eyes wide and mouth open, ready to shout the alarm. A short, sharp 'pop!' behind the man stopped the alarm call dead, as his throat filled with blood, choking off any cry or shout of warning. A red stain spread slowly across the man's chest and he toppled forward, dead before he hit the ground. Standing behind him Colby could see the business end of a muffled Browning 9mm and, further up, two green eyes shining like emeralds in the gloom. Armstrong flashed a grin at the surprised American. "Get on with it, Granger, we haven't got all bloody day, you know!"

Colby breathed a sigh of relief and grinned back. When she said she had his back, she really meant it… He turned back to the safe and worked quickly. Within a few seconds, the creaking, rusting lock gave a final click and he felt the handle shift under his grip. The door creaked open and inside were piles of documents, a couple of remote hard drives and piles of computer discs.

Colby stuffed the stethoscope back into a pocket and grinned. "Jackpot!" He pushed his comms earpiece back into his ear and started pulling out the contents of the safe and stuffing them into his rucksack.

Armstrong chuckled quietly. "Blimey. You are good, you bloody crim! Three guesses what career you're going into when you get discharged, you bugger!"

"Nah. I'm already earmarked for law enforcement, honey!" Colby grinned at her and zipped up the rucksack. "Right then, sweetheart." He stood up and slung the rucksack across his back. "Ready to get out of here?"

"That seems like a good idea, seeing as your lot are about three minutes from blowing the fuck out of this entire compound." Armstrong turned away and then paused. "Oh, and by the way..." She turned back and stared intently at Colby.

"What?"

Diane Armstrong walked silently up to Colby and stood in front of him, mere inches away from his face, her intense green eyes boring deep into his. "Call me 'sweetheart' or 'honey' one more time mate, and I'll make you wish you'd never fuckin' met me, crystal?"

Colby gasped as he felt a vice-like grip clamp around a very sensitive part of his anatomy. His mind flashed back to his conversation with Steve…"What she lacks in seven foot uber-soldiery-ness, she more than makes up for in groin-twisting, eye-gouging ferocity, mate…" Colby swallowed nervously and nodded – carefully. "Yes, ma'am!"

Diane grinned. "Adda boy, Granger." The grip relaxed and Colby breathed a sigh of relief. "Now. Shall we?" She waved towards the door, flashed one last grin and was gone…

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The intel they'd brought out of the Taliban safe house had made life in Kunar Province a whole lot easier for Colby's buddies on the ground. As a result of some of the information he'd recovered, they'd located and destroyed at least six strongholds and pushed the insurgents further back into the mountains. Supply lines had been cut to two major Taliban outposts and although the war was by no means over in that part of the world, it had certainly taken a turn for the better for the troops on the ground.

They had got back to Forward Operations after a brief but bloody firefight. Drones had taken out the last remaining pockets of resistance and the villagers never even realised that the Unit had been in their mist.

Colby had been congratulated on a job well done and received yet another commendation. Coming out of the CO's office he had noticed a tall, red-haired woman sitting alone, leaning against a brick wall. She seemed to be simply relaxing in the sun. Dressed in desert issue combat trousers and a plain white vest top, the woman's muscular, athletic figure was clearly visible. She didn't seem bothered by the dust that covered her boots and trousers, and the blue smoke from a cigarette was doing an admirable job of keeping the flies away from her. Colby stared at the woman for a moment. It was the first time he'd seen Diane Armstrong properly in daylight, without a coating of camo facepaint or the cover of darkness. She wasn't the usual 'pretty' dolly bird that most troops went for, but there was something about her presence that drew Colby towards her like iron fillings to a magnet...

He casually strolled over and stood in front of the woman. "Ma'am…"

Armstrong looked up at the man standing in front of her. "Wotchya, Granger. Do you mind?" She indicated that he should move slightly. "You're standing in my sun spot. We don't get much chance to catch any rays in Hereford. Rains most of the bloody time."

Colby laughed quietly and stepped to one side. "Sorry. You should watch yourself, though, swee… Captain." He stopped himself just in time… "That sun's real strong. It'll burn you to a crisp before you know it."

"Thanks. I'll remember to pack the bleedin' Ambre Solaire next time, shall I?"

Colby chuckled quietly and then paused. "Listen, um, thanks."

"For what?"

"For watching my back the other day."

"My pleasure, old son."

"No, I mean it, Captain."

"Call me Diane." She gave Colby a warm smile. "Or Dee. Anything except sweetheart…"

Colby laughed. "Yeah, that was pretty damn misogynistic of me, wasn't it?"

Diane stared, wide eyed at Colby and then let out a shout of laughter. "Bloody hell, Granger! That's a flamin' big word for an American grunt!"

Colby grinned back at her. "Nah. I've got a degree and everything! No, really! I know all kinds of big words!" The smile melted away for a second. "But still, I was outta line back there. I'm sorry."

Diane laughed again. "Don't worry, old son. I've been around bloody squaddies for a few years now. Trust me. I've heard a lot worse back in Barracks."

Colby chuckled and plonked down next to her, feeling the warmth of the sun-baked bricks on his back. "So what the hell is a beautiful woman like you doing in a shit-hole like this?" Colby felt strangely relaxed with the Englishwoman. It was quite clear that she was intelligent, witty and surprisingly easy going for a British Army officer.

"Yer doin' it again, buggerlugs."

"No I'm not! I just kinda wondered because I thought your lot didn't let women do front line duty."

"They don't, normally."

"Huh?"

Diane grinned. "I don't think they've realised I'm a woman, mate. As soon as they do you can bet your arse I'll be RTU'd and back doing a nice, safe job teaching twats to drive."

"I…you what?"

Diane re-lit the last remnants of the cigarette and took a pull. "I was originally INT 14. Intelligence Corps. They thought my skills would come in useful for the 22nd so I got attached to the mad bastards." She looked thoughtful for a moment. "Actually, as it happens, I've got very attached to 'em. They're a good bunch of lads." She ground the dog-end of the cigarette under the heel of her boot. "Anyhoo, as you can imagine it hasn't been exactly easy to hold my own with this lot. But they've kind of got used to me now, and after I kicked a few of their arses in combat training and proved that I could shoot as good as they can, they've sort of taken to me." She shrugged. "I still go back to INT 14 when I'm not on duty with the 22nd, and there?" She shrugged again. "I teach fuck-wits to drive. It's a two-week training course and if you don't pass the driving test, you don't get in to the regiment. We also teach people like the Royal Protection Squad and Special Branch how to do evasive and high speed pursuit driving."

"So you're a driving instructor?"

"No, you sod! I'm an intelligence officer! I just…happen to be a bit of a petrol-head, that's all." She stared at Granger. "And you can bloody talk! You're supposed to be 'CID' and there's you cracking safes like a pro!"

Colby grinned. "It's a long story."

"Really. I'd like to hear it."

"Only if you tell me about the two dwarves, the lap dancer and the Dusseldorf Police Department!"

Dee stared at Colby blankly. "Who told you about that?" Colby merely grinned in response, and Dee glowered back at him. "It was one dwarf and she wasn't a lap dancer, she was a bloody pole dancer!"

"Who, the dwarf?"

"What? NO!"

Colby burst out laughing. Dee chuckled and then laughed heartily too. It may have been one of the strangest conversations Colby had ever had with a woman. But for some reason it felt completely natural to be sitting here, in the middle of a dusty, hot Forward Operations Base in the middle of Kunar, swapping stories with a tall, red-haired woman and laughing…when all around you was going to hell in a handbasket. Who the hell knew if they'd even be alive tomorrow? But right now, at this moment, she was the centre of his world. They spent the rest of that afternoon sitting in the dust under a baking sun, swapping stories, laughing and, for a brief few moments, trying to forget the horror of the war, the killing, the stomach-twisting fear and the stench of death…

As the last rays of the sun disappeared behind the distant mountains, the unmarked helicopter took off in a cloud of dust. Colby watched it lift off, shielding his eyes from the flying grit. He smiled as the nose of the heelo dipped and it peeled away and off back towards Kabul. Somehow he knew…he knew he'd see her again…

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A soft breeze rustled the white curtains, sending them billowing and flapping like sails. Colby lay listening to the surf as wave after wave rhythmically broke on the sands – the heartbeat of the planet pumping life and light into his very soul. Contented and warm, he smiled to himself. Sounded like a good day to catch some waves. After breakfast, he'd suggest it to Dee, knowing that she loved any chance to pull on a wetsuit and break out the Fish 5-8 as much as he did. For a Brit she wasn't a bad surfer, and the sound of her bright laughter as she watched him wipe out on a gnarly backdrop always made the indignity of losing his normally sure footing on his own Fish 6-1 a little more bearable.

The bed was warm, soft and far too comfortable. Maybe a few minutes longer…just a few more minutes of blissful dozing before Dee came in with a cup of coffee, a soft smile and a gentle kiss on his forehead…

The sea breeze smelt of salt – a clean, refreshing scent that…for some reason this morning also seem to have a sharp tang of disinfectant to it…

As consciousness crept over him, Colby started to realise that the comforting whooshing of the surf was in fact the sound of his own blood pumping around his body and roaring in his ears. The warm, soft bed felt strangely unfamiliar. He frowned, his eyes still closed, and shifted his position slightly.

The sharp, knife-like stab of pain made him yelp and he gasped, clutching his side, wondering what the hell…

"Hey, easy Col, easy!" A concerned voice that definitely wasn't Dee cut through the fog of semi-consciousness. He felt a hand on his shoulder…not Dee's hand…

Slowly, his green eyes flickered open. A blurry outline of a figure loomed over him and he flinched, confused. This wasn't the beach house. The light was too bright, too harsh, too…clinical? Colby blinked, trying to focus on the face in front of him. Slowly, features appeared and the frowning, serious face of David Sinclair materialised.

"David?" Colby's voice was a cracked, dry croak. What the hell was David doing here? And where was Dee? In fact, where the hell was here? He felt a rising sense of panic spread up from the pit of his stomach…

"Take it slow, Col. You're gonna be okay, but man, whatever they gave you knocked you out for a loop, bud. Just take it slow, brother." David frowned deeply, watching his friend like a hawk. Colby was currently whacked out of his head on meds. He knew that his best friend had always had an extreme sensitivity to pain killers, and that in fact there were several that his body couldn't tolerate at all. He didn't know why, but he did have his suspicions that it had something to do with his time in the Army. Colby had never talked about it, but he'd looked on the Internet for himself. There were rumours that many of the troops had been given cocktails of drugs to 'combat the possible effects of biological warfare' that had left many vets deeply affected for the rest of their lives. Jesus, Colby wouldn't even take asprin if he had a headache, so god alone knows what kind of an effect the morphine-based pain killers they'd pumped him full of a few hours earlier were having on the big guy. Colby was utterly confused, and David knew how much that frightened him. His friend hated that 'goddamn outta control feeling', as he called it, and a frightened, confused Colby was never a good thing…

Colby, ignoring the wave of pain that punched into him, sat up suddenly, ashen-faced. He blanked his friend and looked down at the IV drip in his arm. The clear plastic pipe phased in and out of focus, but he could feel the uncomfortable scratch of the needle in his skin. Get it out. Get it out…NOW. His right hand scrabbled at the sticking plaster holding the drip in place and he focused all his attention on it…

David laid his hand over Colby's frantic fingers, gripping them firmly. "Colby, Colby look at me, look at me, bud! It's okay, Col, it's okay! Colby!" The sharpness in his voice grabbed Colby's attention and he suddenly looked straight into his friend's gentle, brown eyes. David could see the confusion in Granger's green orbs. "It's okay, bud. You're in hospital. You're in County General, Col. C'mon, brother, just lay back, will you? It's okay…" David's gentle reassurance pushed the sensation of panic back down and slowly, Colby's fingers relaxed around the drip. David kept hold of his friend's hand and, ignoring the stab of pain from his own gunshot wound, carefully but firmly pushed Colby back down onto the pillows.

Colby lay back, his gaze fixed on his friend, trying to work out why David was here…why he was here. What had happened? Where was Dee? Slowly, his eyes closed again…

"David?" Don's voice was filled with concern. He walked quickly into the room and put a reassuring hand on his friend's shoulder. "How is he?"

"Out of it, Don." David sat back with a sigh. "What the hell did they give him?"

"Diamorphine."

"Shit man, you know he can't handle that stuff!"

"I know that, but they didn't, David. I've spoken to them. They're pulling his medical records now to see if they can try and counter the effects of it, but I think it's simply a case that we'll have to wait and let it work its way through his system." Don looked down at the silent figure of Colby in the bed, noticing how tense the muscles in his arms and shoulders were. His injuries weren't life-threatening, but by pumping him full of a drug he had an adverse reaction to, the hospital had unwittingly made things worse. Don knew that Colby would probably be 'out of it', as David had put it, for a while yet.

Colby lay silent, listening to the distant murmur of voices that were on the edge of recognition. Men's voices…voices he knew…voices he could trust. Slowly, the tension in his muscles relaxed and he concentrated on breathing slowly, counting silently between each breath. The fog in his mind began to clear slightly, lending clarity to the voice that was speaking…Don… Colby's eyes flickered open again and he looked up, finally recognising the faces that looked down on him. He gave Don a small grin and got a warm smile in return. "Hey, big fella, waddya say?" Don grinned broadly as both men turned their attention back to Colby. "How are you feeling?"

"Where's Dee?" Colby's voice was jagged and brittle, barely more than a hoarse whisper.

"She's dealing with a couple of things bud, but she'll be here soon."

"Oh. Okay. That's okay then. She's probably checking out the surf, man." Colby chuckled quietly. "Yeah. That's where she is. Um, it's okay if we go catch a few waves today, isn't it? I mean, I'm due a couple days leave, boss…" The look of confusion flickered back into Colby's eyes again and he shifted restlessly.

David threw a questioning look at his boss. Don merely returned a 'damned if I know, bud!' look and then turned his attention back to Colby. "Dude, you take as much time as you need, okay? We can manage without you for a few days."

"Sweet. Yeah, man. That's…sweet…" Colby's eyes closed again and he relaxed back into the pillows, finally succumbing to the affects of the morphine once again.

David felt the fingers he still held tightly start to relax and go limp, and he carefully placed Colby's hand back on the bed, checking that he hadn't dislodged the IV drip that was still attached to his arm. He sat back and ran a hand over his face. "Jesus, Don, what the hell happened?"

Don indicated to the door and David nodded. Colby was quiet at last, so it was best just to let him sleep off the effects of the drugs. He followed his boss out of the room, noticing how Don measured his pace so as not to put the wounded man under any undue pressure to keep up. Don turned and gently guided his friend to a couple of chairs in the hallway. "I've got a lot to catch you up on, bud…"

Back in the room Colby lay quietly on the bed. In his drug-addled mind, the sound of the surf was lulling him back towards a blissful, comfortable sleep. Just a few more minutes. Just a few more glorious, quiet minutes before Dee softly woke him with a coffee and a kiss. Just a few more minutes and then he'd be ready to face the day. Catch some waves. Spend those precious moments with Dee. Just a few more minutes…

TBC…