Author's Note: I know, I know . . . it's been a really long time. I am sorry, and thank you all for your patience. It has been many weeks of stress and being generally upset. A bunch of stuff went down at work that made life kind of scary to handle for a bit, but I think it's starting to normalize, so I'm getting back into writing. Again, so sorry for the wait, and thank you for being patient with me.

Anyway, on with the tale. (And I promise I truly am working on the next chapter.)


Chapter Four

Amir kept Jaz in his peripheral, only glancing over when he was sure she couldn't see him. Behind him, McG was working tirelessly on Adam, further packing the wound to at least slow the bleeding.

So while McG focused on Adam, Amir would keep an eye on Jaz.

He kept a close watch on her leg, keeping track of the red seeping through dirty bandaging. Every now and then, he'd see her eyes glaze over, as if she wasn't quite all there. In her haze, she'd even pulled her hand from Adam's.

But McG had already ruled out a head injury . . . right?

Amir's worry ratcheted. He snuck more glances. He looked more closely.

A familiar fear burrowed into his chest, settling against his beating heart. No matter how many injuries or risks the team took, this never got easier.

It would never get easier.

Amir looked at Adam's face, his stomach swirling at the distinct lack of color. He thought this gut-eating anxiety and fear would go away once they found them. But how could he be so naïve?

Once the airstrike hit, he'd stopped breathing. And he didn't remember to draw a breath until thirty long seconds had gone by. Amir remembered speaking into his comm. He remembered screaming into his comm. There was no answer. No groans. No whispers. No static. Just dead air, empty and all-consuming.

For a moment, no one spoke. Not a single word.

Then they were driving. And they were looking.

And they looked for what seemed like an eternity.

Amir wondered if they'd ever see their teammates again. He wasn't sure what had kept him going; he felt so defeated, it just seemed easier to give up. But he didn't. And neither did Preach. Nor McG.

Just when they felt lost in all the rubble, they heard a gunshot echo through the air. Anxiously, they sped toward it.

Amir would never forget how they'd found them. The image was tattooed into his memories forever. For a fleeting moment, he thought they were dead. Dead. Adam was motionless, nearly bone white, and Jaz was lying against his chest, as if she'd simply collapsed there. And lying next to them was clearly the corpse of an attacker. Amir had seen the sharp metal in the dead man's hand. He'd seen the glistening red on silver.

Terror had clung to Amir's ribs, tightening its claws around his chest. He stopped breathing again, watching McG with anxious eyes.

When the medic announced they were alive . . . Amir had never felt a deeper relief.

Back in the present, his eyes found Jaz again, carefully watching the fog in her eyes. She blinked it away, as if determined to be in the here and now. But it was clear her body was begging for rest.

"Try to get some sleep, Jaz," he urged. Quietly. Calmly. He was trying to be strong for her, but it was difficult to scrape enough energy to be that rock of support.

Unsurprisingly, she shook her head, glaring out the window. But her glare was weak and weary. It had no real strength behind it.

In the back, McG was stuffing more gauze into Adam's wound, whispering heatedly to the team leader. He was trying to be quiet to keep from worrying the rest of the team. But it wasn't working. It was clear the situation was dire, and McG's frantic mumbling only made it clearer.

"A medical team is already en route, and McG's got a handle on things in the meantime. You need the rest," Amir muttered patiently. He actually wasn't entirely sure if McG did have things under control. But that wasn't the point. Right now, Jaz needed stability. So he'd keep it together. For her.

"No." Her answer came out heated and low. "I'm not going to settle down for a nap. Not when Top's like . . ." She looked back. ". . . like this." Jaz shifted her gaze to stare directly into Amir's eyes. "You didn't see him out there. He could barely stand. He had at least a foot of shrapnel through his side. And he pushed it all aside for me."

Amir pressed his lips together. No, he hadn't seen it with his own eyes, but it wasn't hard to imagine.

"If Top dies . . . " For a brief moment, Jaz's face crumpled, but it was immediately smoothed away behind a mask of strength. "If he dies . . . I want to make sure I'm awake for it. He deserves that much."

And so much more, Amir thought. He understood. He knew where she was coming from. They all did. In the field, respect was invaluable. And Adam had theirs. Always.

Silently and smoothly, Amir stretched his hand toward Jaz, his palm open, promising comfort. For a moment, she simply stared, attempting to decide what to do. She and Amir were still trying to find what it meant to be friends. Her initial attitude toward him complicated that even more. But even so, she knew he had only the best intentions. In the time they'd known each other, he had always been kind and honest—and sometimes very protective.

Reluctantly, she put her hand in his, letting his fingers curl around hers.

The grip was immensely grounding.

It offered reassurance. Understanding. Silent support. So much was conveyed in just the one gesture. And it was so genuine and somehow so strong, it brought tears to Jaz's eyes.

Her gaze found Amir's, and by the softness in his, she knew he understood. Possibly even more deeply than her other teammates. And for that, she was grateful. It brought a unique peace to her mind. Just to know that someone was on your side and could understand . . . it provided relief that couldn't be described.

"I'll help you stay awake," he promised, those heavy-lidded eyes gentle and compassionate.

Jaz wished they'd been friends sooner.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

It had been only ten minutes, but it felt more like ten hours.

McG's hands were smeared with crimson. His fingers left bloody smudges on everything he touched: Gauze packages. His backpack. Top's face. Shit, he was getting blood on practically everything.

He glanced up, finding Amir's hand resting comfortingly on Jaz's arm. Top knew what he was doing when he picked the little guy: Amir was a perfect fit for the team. It was tough for anybody to tame Jaz's passionate emotions. Out of McG, Preach, and Adam, Adam usually had the best luck.

But Amir seemed to connect with Jaz on a different level entirely. It was nice to know someone could be there for the tough sniper when Adam couldn't.

Breathing deeply, the medic pressed his fingers against the inside of the team leader's wrist. His pulse was thready, but still there. And in a Humvee driving through a forsaken pile of rubble, he considered that a tremendous win. But still not enough to make any of this better. He was doing his best, but even fast wound packing and steady pressure wouldn't put blood back into Adam's body. It wouldn't add to the little life he had left. It would just hold onto it tighter.

McG glanced at the dark bruising painted across Adam's ribs. He hated this. Always hated it. He didn't hate being a medic—that wasn't it at all. He took a lot of pride in his work, and he found a lot of satisfaction in helping people. And when it came to his own team, he was happy he could be of use in a bad situation.

But his stomach still turned when someone he cared about got hurt. He still hated to see his teammates in bad shape. Yet he'd swallow his panic to focus on the job at hand.

And looking at Adam, it was hard to keep the fear of loss at bay. The man was so pale. Unresponsive. Practically empty.

"Don't you give up on me," McG breathed quietly, trying to hide his vulnerabilities behind anger. Frustration. Anything, really. "You hold on as long as you have to. You better hold on."

The rest of the team always put their complete trust in McG for any medical situation. Most of the time, it brought him comfort and warmth. But for times like this, when the line between success and failure was paper-thin and brittle, it felt like a weight on his lungs. He felt like he was drowning, and in some ways, he felt alone.

The question that would sat at the forefront of his mind was, What if I can't save them?

McG focused on breathing slowly, keeping steady pressure against Adam's bloody side. He had to remain calm. For Adam. For the rest of the team.

But hell, what if he really couldn't save Adam?

The medic's eyes darted between his other teammates. Preach was staring intently at the road, and Amir and Jaz were buried in their own heavy thoughts.

If McG failed. Would they blame him?

Deep down, he knew they wouldn't. But that little voice in his head pressed the question, burning it against the front wall of his mind. And honestly, he wasn't sure he could save Adam this time.

Don't you dare give up on me, Top, he thought, returning his attention to the team leader. Certain the bleeding was somewhat under control, he quickly started an IV of fluids, holding the bag up in one hand as he pressed against the wound with the other. Even with an IV and such focused attention . . . Adam's odds were low. With every passing minute, they got lower.

And again, McG felt like he was drowning. Alone. And there was nothing his other teammates could do to help.

The two of us just have to make it to the medical team, McG coaxed internally, eyes locked on Adam's face. We're in this together, Top. I'll be damned if I let you die today.

He couldn't fail.

He wouldn't.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

The Humvee skittered and slid down the road, traversing the loose dirt and gravel beneath it. Now that they were out of the worst of the rubble, Preach was doing his best to be fast but still in control, and the rest of them were just trying to deal with the sloppy movement of the vehicle.

In the back, McG firmly held onto Adam, keeping him from sliding with each harsh turn. And in the middle, Amir had one arm reached over to tightly grip Jaz's arm and keep her upright. She was starting to fade now, only half aware. He'd tried to keep her awake, like he promised he'd do, yet now, nothing was working.

But they were so close. Within reach. Other military vehicles were ahead, the medical team hopefully among them. They just had to get there.

Amir looked back at McG. The medic's expression was tight with concern and . . . fear. Overwhelming fear.

Trying to calm the sudden spike in his own emotions, Amir turned to the front, watching the bumpy road ahead. His eyes caught on red.

A red plus sign.

A red cross.

Medics.

His grip on Jaz's arm tightened, but she didn't notice. She was more unconscious than she was conscious, and damn, if that didn't scare the hell out of Amir.

He'd assumed it was just exhaustion. But what if it was something else?

Shit, what if it was something else?
He looked back again, this time looking at McG's blood-covered hands as he messily pressed gauze against Adam's wound. The taller man was still holding up the bag of fluids, trying his best to swap between holding onto Adam and pressing onto crimson gauze with one hand. He looked exhausted but focused. As if he was trying to pretend he wasn't terrified.

But Amir could see past that.

Because he was terrified.

The Humvee slid to an abrupt stop, and Amir had to almost leap across the center divide to keep Jaz from hitting the front seat. Gently, he rested her against her seat and quickly moved to get out of the vehicle. Before his feet even hit the dirt, Preach was at Jaz's door, delicately pulling her from the Humvee as medics descended on her. The back was pulled open and medics quickly moved to retrieve Adam, with McG barking stats and current treatment as he handed the IV bag to another man.

He handed the bag to another man.

Amir's eyes followed the bag, only glancing at McG.

McG was putting his trust in these strangers completely.

But if he could trust them, so could Amir.

Feeling helpless, Amir watched the medics cart his teammates away. They were moved out of sight, loaded into an already running truck. He knew he had to let it happen. Knew this was best for them. But it felt wrong to leave them with other people. Felt like he was abandoning them somehow.

"Come on, Amir," Preach urged, clasping a warm hand on his shoulder. "We're going to ride in the truck with them."

It took a minute for Preach's words to sink in. Amir had expected to ride separately in the Humvee. But if he'd heard Preach right . . .

His shoulders dropped in relief.

He didn't have to abandon them after all.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

Preach and Amir stood against the wall while McG helped the other medics. They'd made it to a military hospital in almost no time at all, and while Adam had been whisked away for surgery, Jaz was taken to a room to have her leg cleaned and stitched.

And somehow, McG had talked the nurses into letting them back with Jaz.

So for now, Preach could only stand by and wait.

He was happy to be here, at least, if he couldn't be with Adam. He wished someone could've been, just to keep eyes on the team leader. But he knew with an injury like Adam's, that wouldn't be possible.

It ate away at Preach.

He'd seen a lot in the time he'd known Adam. The man had a penchant for trouble. He had always been the type to fall on a grenade for everyone else—to such an extreme that Preach wondered if there was something more than selflessness to Adam's self-destructive behavior. And it's what kept Preach's worry alive with every mission and task.

And yet, he knew that Adam would want him to be here, with Jaz, right now. So he stayed. He watched over her. For Jaz . . . and for Adam.

McG was unwrapping the bandaging around Jaz's leg, being quick but careful. As the last of the blood-stained white was peeled away, the could see her wound in full view. The flesh was roughly torn, leaving a deep gash on the side of her leg. It would've been agony to walk on, let alone endure quietly. Preach could almost feel the ripped nerve endings in his own leg.

McG's face darkened as he helped clean the wound. Much of the time, the taller man had a joke on his lips and a smile at the ready. But when it came to the team's health, he became so focused. It was almost like he was a different person.

Or maybe not so much a different person as the same man arming himself for battle. A battle of a different kind. Preach took a deep breath.

His spirits fell further as he watched a nurse start a blood transfusion. This mission wasn't supposed to be this . . . complicated. Watching them sew up Jaz was bad enough. He could only imagine what was happening to Adam right now.

A strange feeling pumped against his chest. He felt oddly uneasy outside of his general worry, and he couldn't pinpoint why.

Then—chaos.

Jaz awoke with a gasp, suddenly thrashing as she cried out in pain. Amir and Preach stepped forward to help calm her as McG did the same.

But then Preach saw it.

Outside, personnel ran frantically down the hall with supplies. With a bag of blood. Down where they had taken Adam.

"Stay with her," he swiftly instructed Amir, heading straight out of the room and down the hall. Blood pumped in his ears, keeping time as his breathing echoed alongside the frantic heartbeat.

That's when he heard it.

A single, long beep.

Flatlining.