"You absolute fucking moron! What the hell are you thinking?" Aisha screeched, the rage clear in her voice. Jensen wouldn't be surprised if she shot them both and cut her losses.

"Did you come back for the keys or something?" Roque muttered, staring down at him like he was crazy. "Figured at least Aisha would know how to hotwire a car."

"How bad is it? Where were you hit?" Jensen groaned, trying to breathe through his own pain. Damn Roque. Damn Max. Damn everything.

"Side of my chest. Got me when I was throwing the sticks," Roque huffed. Of course he got shot while he was doing something to help them. Jensen painfully pulled himself back up to a seated position, making sure to stay low enough under their cover. The shots weren't coming as consistently anymore, but he wasn't going to take any chances.

"Where are your bandages?" Jensen asked, carefully patting the pockets of Roque's bag. He didn't want to accidentally disturb something that could kill him.

"Used them all on you," Roque sighed. Jensen didn't know where it came from, but a surge of anger overtook him and he grabbed Roque by the front of his shirt and slammed him down on his back. "What the hell?"

"Why would you tell us where your vehicle is?" Jensen demanded, glaring down at Roque with their faces inches apart. "Giving up that information was like signing your own death warrant."

"You know why."

"Is there a trap waiting for us or something?" That would be very on brand for Roque.

"Amends," Roque replied quietly. Jensen fell back onto his butt, pressing the heels of his hands against his forehead. Damn this concussion.

"Why did you do it? We were fucking family," Jensen choked out. He needed the others with him to deal with this.

"I'm sorry, kid. I made a mistake." Jensen stripped off his outer shirt, threading it under Roque's body. He tied the sleeves into a knot over the wound, not taking much care to be gentle.

"You're gonna come back with us, then say your piece to the team. I'm gonna stick by them, no matter what they decide," Jensen said, rubbing his slightly bloody hands on the front of his pants.

"I guess I'd rather die at home than here," Roque mumbled, wincing as he moved to lean against their cover wall again.

"I'll try to convince them to at least give you a chance to speak," Jensen started, pinning him with a sharp look, "but know this: if I even get a hint of you doing anything to harm them, I will take you down. No more chances. I don't care if Clay decides to beat on you. You stand there and take it."

"Whatever you say," Roque chuckled.

"I don't suppose you have any ideas of how I'm going to get us from point A to point B, do you?" Jensen questioned, peeking to see if the enemy was trying anything new in view. "Happen to have a rocket launcher shoved up your ass you haven't told me about?"

"Couldn't get away with that in these pants," Roque replied, and Jensen snorted, reminded of the back and forth he took part in for so many years. Damn Roque.

"Maybe Aisha's got a better plan," Jensen wondered, turning to ask her opinion. "Oh shit." Aisha wasn't standing where he'd left her anymore.

"What?" Roque grunted, poking at his makeshift bandage.

"She left us. She fucking left us," Jensen muttered. "I'm gonna die because I came back for you."

"We're not gonna die."

"Jesus, I'm such an idiot. I could be halfway back to the plane by now, but no. I had to come back for the guy who left me for dead before," Jensen rambled, feeling his breath pick up as tendrils of panic curled up his spine. "Is it me that's the problem? Is there something about me that just makes people want to run away screaming? You, Aisha, my parents, every ex I've ever had. It's like the world has been telling me I'm meant to die alone, but I haven't been paying attention."

"Jay, calm down."

"I'm so fucking tired. This was supposed to be a light at the end of the tunnel, you know? Something that could finally help lead us to Max. But it was just more bullshit."

"Jay-"

"Maybe I want a chance at what Pooch has. I always thought I had time. I wasn't gonna be a lifer. Get out after a few years and settle down, maybe start up my own tech company. Make Cougs come with me too, since he'd stay in until he died if no one stopped him. But if this is all I have left to look forward to, I don't know how much more I can take."

"Man-"

"Wow, ignore me," Jensen scoffed, hiding a sniffle behind his hand. "Concussions and blood loss are a bad combination." He needed to keep his mouth shut. Roque was not the right person to vent to. In fact, most of his thoughts shouldn't be said out loud at all.

"Hey, look at me," Roque said firmly, waiting for Jensen's reluctant eye contact. "We're not just gonna sit back and do nothing. If you're convinced we're gonna die, fine. But we're at least gonna fight until the end. So get up and get ready, because we're about to make our move."

"I'm tired of getting shot," Jensen whined, which was completely justified.

"Then you better tap dance your ass across to that wall. I remember you playing that nerdy ass arcade game a few years back."

"Dance Dance Revolution is not nerdy. And you stay in one square spot in that game."

"Use that footwork."

"Keep in mind that you were the one who stayed behind last time. I've already made this trip twice."

"Ready to do it one more time?" Roque challenged. The gunfire had almost slowed at this point, with only the occasional bullet hitting their current spot. They were either running out of bullets or waiting for them to make a move. It didn't really matter what the truth was. Jensen was going to assume they had unlimited ammo and marksmanship that rivaled Cougar's. To hope otherwise would be foolish.

"As long as you don't slow me down," Jensen shot back.

"Couple shots of cover fire should be enough to get us over."

"Running and shooting? At least you're not asking me to chew gum at the same time too."

"Funny," Roque scoffed, groaning as he moved to perch at the edge of their spot. Jensen could sprint this distance one hundred times over without breaking a sweat in normal circumstances, but right now it felt even further than it had before. Especially with the rest of their journey ahead of them. But he could worry about it when they got that far. If they got that far.

"Let's do this," Jensen growled, popping up and sending out a few shots as he ran across the opening. Roque was right behind him, doing the same. It felt like old times, even though the two of them didn't usually get paired together during missions. Computers were too boring for Roque when the option of blowing things up was available.

They were halfway there when Jensen heard Roque hiss in pain and stumble. Jensen gave himself a millisecond to imagine throwing his hands up in defeat and leaving Roque behind. Again with this? Again with Roque fucking up the plans? It would be so easy to keep going and pretend he'd never seen Roque in the first place. Aisha would probably go along with the story, if he ever saw her again. But damn Jensen and his need to do what was right.

Jensen skittered to a stop, sending out a few more frantic shots as he whirled around to move behind Roque. If he needed to push his muscly ass across the rest of the way, that's what he would do. Jensen shoved him along as the enemy fire resumed its earlier pace, only missing by a hair in some instances. It felt like luck and determination was the only thing that got them across and Jensen and Roque both fell to the ground as soon as they reached their destination.

"You fucking suck!" Jensen panted, resting his cheek on the dirt as he rode out the waves of pain warring in his body. He couldn't tell if his head or his side hurt more, deciding that everything sucked and it didn't need to be a competition. He was a ball of pain.

"You can tell me all about it on the walk out of here," Roque sighed, adjusting the shirt that had shifted over his wound. "We need to go before those guys decide to start following us."

"Alright," Jensen groaned, rolling over to sit back up. But the second he put any weight on his right leg, he cried out, falling back down onto his butt. "Oh no. No no no." There was a neat little hole in the meat of his calf.

"Shit!" Roque hissed, squatting down to take a look.

"Guess you're gonna be leaving me behind again," Jensen choked out, running the back of his hand across his wet face. It was only sweat, nothing more.

"The hell I will," Roque grunted, ripping the sleeve off his shirt.

"I can't walk across the desert like this."

"Then I'll carry you."

"You couldn't even make it a couple dozen yards on your own. Be realistic here."

"Okay, let me be real. We are leaving here together, even if that means I have to drag your ass behind me on the ground. I don't care how long it takes," Roque commanded, tying the sleeve around Jensen's leg. "Now, are you ready to stop bitching and get up?"

"Your bedside manner is atrocious. And your rally speech leaves much to be desired," Jensen huffed, but he still started shifting to stand. He couldn't give up now, not after everything. And the blood loss was making his head a little fuzzy, which was blurring the pain a bit. He knew that wasn't a good thing, but if it helped him right now, he would take advantage of it. "Help me up, ya prick."

Getting upright again sucked and Jensen bit his lip to the point of bleeding to stop himself from crying out. He didn't need to announce to everyone how much he was injured. The bad guys might get bold and decide an ambush was worth the risk. Jensen almost fell again when his leg screamed in pain, but Roque was there, throwing one of Jensen's arms across his shoulders.

"You good?" Roque asked, adjusting them so they could hobble along together.

"No," Jensen whined.

"Then let's go." Jensen hoped that Roque knew where he was going, because he wasn't paying much attention at the moment. He could only focus on keeping his feet under him and not passing out, which felt almost impossible.

"I sure didn't have this on my mission bingo card," Jensen gasped, moaning when his foot bumped against a rock. If anyone had told him that he'd be participating in a fucked up three-legged race with Roque across the desert, he would've looked into having them committed. But here they were.

Jensen wasn't sure how he was even producing so much sweat, since he was pretty sure he was dehydrated. It was like his body was determined to rid itself of every drop of moisture he had. Jensen tried to think of what he knew about dehydration, calculating in his mind how much time he likely had before his body would fully shut down. He kind of hoped he'd pass out before it got too bad, not wanting to live his last moments in a hell where he was cognizant of what was about to happen, but not be able to move to help himself. No matter what Roque said, there was no way they were finding salvation like this.

"Um, Roque?" Jensen mumbled, letting out a shaky breath as he felt the need to get something off his chest. "If I don't make it out of this-"

"I don't want to hear it," Roque snapped, cutting him off.

"Just listen to me, you asshole," Jensen sighed. Why did Roque have to make this harder than it needed to be? "I don't forgive you for what you did to us before. That will take time, if it's even possible. But this? I can appreciate what you've done and I won't blame you if I don't make it home."

"Don't talk like that."

"I don't expect you to find the team, but if you could find a way to send a letter to Cougar or Pooch and tell them what happened, I'd appreciate it. They know what to tell my family," Jensen gasped. "But do me a favor and make it sound a lot cooler. Like I went out in a blaze of glory, not bleeding out in the dirt."

"I'm not doing shit. You're gonna make up that story and tell them yourself," Roque ground out.

"Dick."

"This is the last place we're going to have cover, so there is no stopping from this point forward," Roque said, resting for a moment against the wall of a building. A whole lot of nothingness was in their future and Jensen felt the dread pool in his stomach. The walk earlier with Aisha had been hard enough, and that was two gunshot wounds ago. They didn't have food, or water, or shelter. This was hopeless. "You ready?"

"No," Jensen sighed. Roque got them going again, turning the final corner to put them out in the open. The jeep sitting in front of them shouldn't have surprised him. Or the driver pointing a gun in their faces.