Author's note: have to admit, the tension b/w LJ and Beachhead was influenced by Slayne's "A Good Soldier." Just giving credit where credit's due.

Lady Jaye stood in the darkness, her pulse pounding in her ears. Her stance rigid, she waited for the next strike. One minute passed, then another. "Roadblock?" she whispered.

"Shhh." Beachhead hissed beside her. He pushed her behind him and moved into the bushes. "Stay here."

"No way. I'm coming."

"I'm in charge."

"Sorry, sir. I'm coming."

"Stay," he said, more forcefully.

He grabbed the team's only flashlight and pushed forward, careful not to make a sound, feeling his way through the bushes. There was nothing except the sound of the nocturnal; the scuttle of some creatures that fed by night. He crouched down, scanning the flashlight from left to right. The ground showed specs of blood and the outline of something being dragged. Roadblock, he thought grimly.

He moved back to the camp and turned the flashlight back to Lady Jaye. Her eyes glistened like one of the night creatures.

"What happened?" she asked. "Where's Roadblock?"

"He's gone. They got him."

She looked away. "Feels like the Blair Witch Project."

"We've got to get out of here," Beachhead said, grabbing his backpack. "Get your stuff. Stay on guard."

"Beach?"

"What?"

"Is this normal?" Lady Jaye asked. "Is this what happened last time?"

He hesitated.

"Beach? Is this normal?"

"Who knows?" Beachhead shrugged. "Last competition was bad. In a different way, though. Get your stuff."

She grabbed her backpack and canteen bottle. "Tell me what happened."

"Another time."

She grabbed his arm. "Tell me now."

"I said another time," Beachhead said. He shook off her grasp and pushed her forward, a bit too forcefully and she stumbled onto the ground. "Sorry, Jaye. I didn't - just get going." He offered his hand to help her up, instantly hating himself for his roughness. You don't understand, Beachhead thought. I'm trying to. God, what are you trying to do, Wayne?

She studied his hand and looked at him, unblinking. "I can get up myself, sir."

"Suit yourself," Beachhead said, his tone coming out more harshly than intended.

Lady Jaye stood up, swaying slightly. He reached out to brace her. "What's going on with you, Corporal?" he asked, steadying her.

"Nothing."

"Doesn't seem like nothing," he frowned.

"Well, then. We both have our secrets."

He paused before nodding slowly. "Alright. Let's get going."

***

Scarlett tried to open her eyes, but they were swollen shut. She needed water. Badly. Her tongue traced her lips for moisture but found they were cracked and sore. She smelt dampness and decay all around her.

Where am I?

Her mind started to work furiously. Destro had done a number on her that night, trying everything in his power to get her to reveal military secrets. At first, it was her bravery that can't her mouth shut; after that, a delirium of pain set in and she hoped - no prayed - nothing had come out. There was a point where she heard screaming, like something that came from a wounded animal, and then she realized it was her own voice making those sounds. Her body shuddered at the memory, but it was memories that saved her in the end. At the pinnacle of her pain, she felt her thoughts drift to a time of happiness.

Scarlett's mind brought her back to a week before the competition. She and Duke were spending some precious time alone together in her quarters. Lady Jaye was in a meeting with Hawk all night, briefing on the latest intelligence.

"You know what, Red?" Duke said, sitting on her bed.

"What?"

"I'm happy."

She knew what he meant, but decided to feign ignorance. "Happy about what?" Scarlett asked, sitting down next to him.

Duke chuckled softly. "You know what I'm talking about."

"I don't usually ask redundant questions," she said.

"You are now." Duke placed his hand behind her neck and pulled her in for a kiss.

"Tell me, why are you happy?" she murmured against his lips.

"You make me happy," he said, stroking her cheek. "You make me very happy." Duke backed away, looking into her eyes. "I think I'm in love." His words shocked him, but once they were said, he couldn't take them back.

Scarlett raised an eyebrow. "You THINK you're in love? Get back to me when you're sure."

He pushed her back onto the bed, laughing. "Okay, okay. I'm sure. I'm in love. What about you?"

"Hmmm. I 'think' so."

"Good lord, woman!" Duke said, still laughing. "You're going to be the death of me."

Now, in the darkness, Scarlett clung to that memory. It covered her like a blanket, soothing away some of the pain. Her joints ached. Her whole body ached, but she knew he was out there.

You're coming, she thought. I know you are.

***

"Alright Shipwreck, what's the word?"

"Spirit's thinking they've got Scar."

"What about the others?"

"No word on Lady Jaye."

Flint looked at him. "I didn't ask about her specifically."

"I'm just telling you," Shipwreck shrugged. "There's no word on Roadblock and Beachhead either. I say we just get out there."

"Duke's moving to the South," Flint said. "We'll move northeast. Let's get going. Tell the men."

"Aye, aye, sir."

"Flint, sir!" Alpine ran into the tent.

"What is it?"

"They've found a body."

The warrant officer stood silent for a moment before composing himself. "Who is it?"

"Unidentifiable, Flint. We're having to go by dental records, sir. He was mauled pretty badly."

"Any idea what happened?"

Alpine shook his head. "Not a clue. There's only one animal that could've done that, sir. And that's a polar bear. Ain't much of those around here."

"We're going out there," Flint said. "NOW."