The field extends as far as the eye can see, peppered with tall, willowy grass waving in the wind, bending to its frivolous will. The tall mountain peaks still sport their whiter-than-snow icing, which proudly reflects the sun and stubbornly refuses to melt. Steve is taken slightly aback - the expanse of land before him suddenly feels insurmountable - not because of its length, but of its purpose. He has no idea where to go or, for that matter, what he's doing here. He fidgets, confused, typical of the man of action he is, always with his mind on the mission and a clear purpose - to complete what he was ordered to do and get to safety.
Except... however much he tries, he just can't remember what the mission is all about. He can't pinpoint who gave the order or who else was supposed to have accompanied him. He's completely and utterly alone, and had there been other SEALs with him, surely they would've already made themselves known. So the mission, whatever it is, must be a solo one. He fidgets again, not because he's nervous at that prospect - he trusts the navy - but because he seems to be drawing a complete blank and that is worrisome. Why can't he remember? He can't stand here forever, night will fall soon and he must find shelter. Looking around him, the small makeshift market in the center of Khayfan now seems miles away and the expanse of meadow stretches far and wide. Sighing, he decides to start walking aimlessly, hoping the purpose of his journey will soon become apparent.
Some time later, Steve stops, wondering how long he's been walking for. It feels like hours, but at least he can now make out a large building in the distance, and he quickens his pace, trying to stay out of sight, but there doesn't seem to be anyone about. No guards, no military personnel, no living soul. His uneasiness grows but something compels him to keep moving; in the end, the mission must be completed.
A few seconds later, he's now inside. The large complex is made up of holding cells with bars on the small openings to the outside, which filter the inclement sun and scatter dust-dancing shadows on the floor. The long corridors go on and on, but still there is no one, the place seems to be deserted. He walks along the lines of old, rusted cell doors, occasionally peeking into one, only to find it empty. Reaching the end of the corridor, Steve exits onto a typically Arab courtyard, filled with ammunition crates covered in camouflage netting. He brings his weapon closer to his chest and stealthily moves towards a door at the other end, moving around the courtyard and keeping to the shadows. Inside, what appear to be living quarters extend to his right and he moves forward, on high alert, to the end of the corridor. There, another holding cell appears, blocked by a very large, old, metallic door with Arabic characters engraved on it. Steve moves closer and pushes it, and against his expectations, it simply opens noisily. A makeshift bed stands in a corner, and finally a living soul seems to be asleep on it, completely oblivious to the presence of another human being. He approaches slowly, silently, and tries to listen for any sounds of life, but there are none. After a few seconds he decides to pull on the robes and they open like a lotus flower, making him gasp. Straight, black hair, translucent skin, brown eyes. He would recognise her anywhere, dead or alive - Catherine. Her eyes are open, but they don't focus on him, they have no life left in them. Steve tries to feel for a pulse, in a panic, but no matter how hard he presses on her carotid, or how much he moves his fingers around, hoping he's just not positioning them right, the proof of life eludes him time and again. He cries out her name in a panic and grabs her torso, bringing her flush against him, feeling her warmth. He shakes her body violently, but her eyes don't ever close again. A quick-spreading blood stain darkens the bright colours of her tunbaan until it's all soaked through and he can't find the source of the bleeding to stop it. He hears a cry of anguish come out from deep within, ripping him in two and suddenly wakes up in a cold sweat. It's the middle of the night and he's back in Hawai'i, lying on his bed. Kissing any chance of any more sleep goodbye, and utterly disturbed by his nightmare, he decides to go for a run to exorcise his demons until it's time for his other, better, distraction.