"Fuck! We gotta move!" Someone yells, jerking me out of my light doze.

"What the hell?" I groan, sitting up from my bunk to look around. I take a few steps to peek out of the tent and am instantly greeted with heavy wind and sand grains in my face. I don't need to hear anything else to know what's going on.

I make a mad dash back to my bunk, dressing in record time and running out of my tent towards the center of camp.

"Colonel, a sandstorm is moving in at record speed." A young-looking soldier tells me, clearly afraid.

"Obviously," I grumble, I'm always short-tempered when I'm so aggressively awoken, which is pretty often. "Okay, let's move people! All stable patients need to be transferred to the bunkers, and we took stock yesterday so we should have enough supplies for two days."

I take command instantly, everyone at the base looking towards me for instruction. I order my team of surgeons to be in charge of keeping all our patients alive as the rest of the regular soldiers do their parts in helping out.

"Make sure all the tents are cleared out, and you, get our radio equipment and secure it." Another strong voice joins mine, and I turn to find gray eyes staring into mine. Kellin gives me a nod in greeting, as he's overseeing the entire base. I'm second in command, in charge of the medical side of things.

Sandstorms aren't uncommon in Afghanistan, and as one of the largest main bases for the USMC, we've prepared for everything.

This base has an entire medical section, though it's small compared to the rest of the base, dedicated to injured soldiers between missions. After damage control is done at smaller camps, they're sent here for finishing surgeries and recovery before they're either sent home or back out.

The wind picks up even more and I shield my eyes with my arm, pulling the collar of my shirt up to cover my nose, trying to filter some of the sand out of my breathing.

I move through the medical sector, making sure everything's running smoothly, and take it upon myself to make sure we get everyone out.

Sandstorms are dangerous, if we're not underground by the time the worst of it hits, we're dead.

"Grey, all patients are secured in the bunker. Critical ones are being seen by our surgeons now." Teddy's voice reaches my ears, and I smile at my friend.

"Well done, Major. Let's get down there and lock up."

She nods and I follow her towards the entrance to the bunker, trusting that Kellin will take care of everyone else. My top responsibility is the medical center, which is no easy feat.

We stumble slightly, the wind so strong that it nearly carries us off our feet. The visibility is getting lower by the second, so we pick up speed as we get close to the light shining through an open metal door that leads to the bunker.

I get in after Teddy, but I need her help to close the door behind me, against the wind. I look around to the open space. The walls are bland but sturdy, shelves of equipment on the walls and crates of supplies in the corners. Beds of soldiers line the main area, extremely cramped. There's a smaller room off to the right side which should be an office, but we're using it as an OR, just in case. There is room for my unit of surgeons to sleep on the left, which is also where the food and water are stored. Enough to last us two days. Most sandstorms are over by then.

A radio is handed to me by one of my subordinates and before I have a chance to do anything, it whirrs to life and Kellin's choppy voice comes through.

"Grey, Altman, anyone? Do you copy?"

"It's Grey, I copy," I respond, frowning at the unusual panic in his voice.

"We need a doctor in this bunk, as soon as possible."

"Why?" I demand, already moving back towards the entrance of our bunker.

"Simmons took a piece of something to the head. He was heading towards us when the storm blew in some sort of metal thing and it knocked him out."

"Is he conscious? Is there blood?"

"He's not responding, we had to drag him in here. There's a lot of blood. What do I do?"

"Check his pupils. You'll need a light."

"Oh, shit! Shit! Grey, he's having a seizure!"

"Okay, turn him on his side and put your hands on either side of his jaw. Support his head and clear his airway. Just hold him like that until the seizure stops. What kind of drugs do you have over there? Phenobarbital? Lorazepam?"

"There aren't any goddamn drugs! You have everything over there!" His voice is more distant now, he must have set down the radio to follow my instructions. I curse. "I told you, Michael, I told you that you needed to be prepared."

"Now's not the damn time!" He roars. "Oh, he stopped. He-he stopped. What now?"

"Pupils."

There's a long minute of silence before I get a response. "Right pupil is huge and um, left won't move."

Fixed and blown, there's a bleed. "Fuck, he needs a craniotomy or he's going to die."

"I can't do that!" Kellin sounds scared now. I remember suddenly that he and Simmons are old friends, going all the way back to basic training.

"You're right. Damn it, I'm coming over there. I'll bring supplies and operate on Simmons over there."

"You can't go out in the storm," he says softly, his voice choppy again.

"Listen up! We got a situation in the other bunk! I'm going to need enough supplies for a craniotomy and any possible complications! I'm going over there ASAP." I shout to my staff of nearly twenty surgeons. Whoever has a free hand moves to help pack my bag. I have a pack of surgical tools already and compact supplies I take on missions. They add the medications and as much sterile stuff as they can into my backpack

"I'm not letting you go on your own, Death. How are you even going to find the other bunker?"

"I need you to stay here and make sure everything stays running smoothly." I meet Teddy's worried eyes.

"Bag's good." Someone says, handing me a large backpack which I place on, never breaking eye contact with Teddy.

"I'm not going to let Simmons die," I tell her softly, then, seeing she's about to argue, I try a different tactic. "Major, you're staying here and running this bunker. Contact me through the radio. When this is over, every one of these soldiers better be alive. That's an order. Understood?"

She narrows her eyes at me, and I know she despises it when I pull the rank card, but it's necessary at this point. I stand my ground, and finally, she presses her lips together and backs down. "Yes ma'am."

With one last look around my medical bunker, I head up the stairs and push open the heavy door. I'm instantly hit with strong winds, and it takes an insane amount of effort to get the door closed behind me.

Dust, sand, and rocks fly into my side and face, stinging badly, but I narrow my eyes and look forward. There should be a bright light somewhere ahead, I just have to walk straight.

The sun is supposed to be rising, and it's pitch black. The storm is so thick it's blotting out the goddamn sun.

I try to control my breathing, shirt over my nose and mouth because every time I inhale I can feel the sand scratching my trachea as it travels through my body and into my lungs.

I stumble forward, a hand shielding my eyes. I have no idea how long I've been out here, but the wind is so strong I feel like I've been blown off course.

I hit the ground, beginning to crawl forward, quickly losing all sense of direction.

I can feel the panic starting to rise within me, but I push it back.

There. A light. It's dim, but it's there. Yes! The bunker!

In a matter of moments, I'm on my feet again, rushing through the blasting wind towards the light which grows brighter with every step.

I grab the cold metal door, breaking into a heavy cough. I just inhaled so much shit. I bang on the door, using the knock code, and it instantly opens.

Someone pulls me inside, and it takes a long minute to adjust to the clean air and bright lights. I drop my pack onto the ground and cough again, trying to clear my lungs. I know it's no use, the damage is already done, but I need to breathe.

When I become steady again, I'm in work mode. I glance around, seeing tons and tons of faces of terrified soldiers.

"Over here, Grey," Kellin's voice is panicked, and I follow it to the far side of the bunk, where Simmons lays unconscious, head in Micheal's hands.

I toss my radio behind me with an order to tell Altman I made it okay. In record speed, I unpack my bag, keeping it as sterile as possible.

"Put these on." I hand Micheal a pair of gloves while pulling on my own.

"You-you're not going to- Grey, I can't-"

"Micheal!" I snap, not looking up from my examination of Simmons. Pupils are still blown and fixed. I locate the site of the head injury and pull out the tools I brought. "You have to. This is a simple procedure, just do exactly as I say. Got it?"

I would normally never speak to my commander like this, but in this scenario, I'm in charge.

"You need to hold his head. You cannot, under any circumstances, move his head. It needs to stay completely still. Do you understand?"

"Yes," Kellin replies, his voice shaking as I tell him where to place his hands.

Simmons doesn't have a jacket on, so I easily place the leads to the mobile cardiac monitor on his chest. A weak, thready beating fills the room. Micheal's gaze is boring into me, he knows that's not what a normal heartbeat sounds like. I ignore him.

I sterilize the area and grab the scalpel, heavily aware of the stare of every single person in this bunk on me, and begin the procedure. I'm going in with my best guess as to where the bleed is. Thank God I dabbled in neuro for a while during my residency before settling on general as my specialty.

My heart is pounding, but my head is clear. I suck in heavy breaths, struggling to breathe normally.

I don't have a bone saw, so I can't take off a piece of the skull. Instead, I grab the battery-powered drill and line it up with my incision. I take a struggling deep breath- I'm going in blind.

"You're gonna drill into his head?" Someone asks from behind me.

"Yes." I snap, in no mood for anyone to doubt me. "Now everyone shut up, because if I don't go in far enough he'll die and if I go in too far I'll hit his brain and he may never wake up."

The room falls completely silent. No one even breathes. I power the drill and go in, making a large burr hole. I've done this countless times in the past, but never under these circumstances. If something were to happen or go wrong...

I remove the drill, seeing blood well up.

"There-there's blood. Grey, did you-" Micheal stutters.

I grab the manual suctioning tool and begin to suck out as much blood as possible.

"I did it, Mike. There's supposed to be blood. That's means I'm in the right spot. Now, I have to clear the bleed so I can clip it." My tone leaves no room for questioning, and it sounds way more confident than I feel. In reality, I have no idea how I'm going to place the clip with no microscope.

I'm in the long process of trying to clear all the blood out- this is a massive bleed- when I hear my radio behind me, and Teddy's voice. "Grey, come in? This is Altman, requesting a status report, over."

The radio is held next to my face. I don't stop what I'm doing as I reply, "This is Grey, I'm in the process of suctioning, going to place the clip soon. Over."

Teddy replies something, but I'm too focused on what I'm doing to hear. The bleeding is under control, and a steadier beeping from the cardiac monitor fills the room. Now how do I place the fucking clip?

I have magnifying glasses in my bag.

"In my bag!" I snap, glancing behind me, "Small pocket, in a sterile bag there's a pair of neurosurgical glasses. Get them out and put them on me. Now!"

Movement erupts behind me, and in a matter of seconds, the glasses are on my face. I move closer to Simmons' exposed brain, studying the bleed. It's quiet again, but I have to continue suctioning more to get visualization.

The glasses aren't anywhere close to the microscope I need, but I have to make do.

I choose the clip I'll need, strings of expletives running through my mind.

Despite my nerves, my hands are steady, as always. Slowly, I move into the burr hole and place the clip.

I release a breath I didn't realize I've been holding.

I study the area, waiting- watching. The blood doesn't start again. I poke the clip, testing it. Nothing. It'll hold.

I withdraw my tools, tossing them to the side, and quickly stitch the incision back together, then wrap it with gauze. It only takes a few minutes, and the cardiac monitor shows all his stats are completely steady.

I pull off the glasses and remove my gloves, telling Kellin he can let go. I push back so I can lean, sitting against the wall. I smile warily. "He'll be okay."

The men erupt around me in celebration, and I attempt to shush them, as Simmons is still unconscious on the ground. Instead, I break into a heavy cough, one I'd been suppressing since I got here.

One so bad, I struggle to breathe. I hold a hand over my mouth, and when I finally stop, I move it. Panic sets in when I see the blood.

Meredith jolts upright in bed, sweating. She breaks into a heavy cough, chest so tight in a panic she can barely suck in oxygen.

She flinches away from a warm hand on her back.

"Meredith, breathe."

Derek's voice is sleepy, but it's reassuring. Meredith recognizes it, but she's afraid. She's so afraid and she can't calm her body enough to breathe. Light-headedness sets in.

Then, out of nowhere, warm lips are pressed against hers. Derek's hands slip around her as he moves his body close to her.

And just like that, her body melts into his touch. He moves back a couple of inches, and Meredith's chest loosens, allowing for air to enter.

She takes fast, rasping, deep breaths, holding onto Derek tightly. The panic fades, and she grows more aware of her surroundings.

It's about four in the morning. Derek had only been asleep for two hours when she had woken him up with her coughing. He's a light sleeper.

The house is silent, which is strange considering it's packed full of people from the party.

By the time Derek had gotten all the drunk surgeons situated and gotten to bed himself, Meredith was long asleep in his room.

It had felt so right to climb into the same bed as her, though he didn't cuddle her as he longed to, not knowing how she would have reacted to that.

Now, he's more than grateful they're in the same bed, because he doesn't know what would have happened if he hadn't been here to calm her down. She nearly passed out.

"I'm sorry," Meredith whispers, "I didn't mean to wake you."

"It's okay," he brushes a few strands of hair away from her face. "Were you dreaming?"

She drops her gaze but nods. "I was in the sandstorm that gave me dust pneumonia. I was suffocating."

He pulls her body close to his and when he receives no protest, it makes him smile. "It's okay."

"That was almost really bad," Meredith observes, having caught her breath by now. "That's never happened before. Usually, I get out of the flashback a few minutes after I wake up without a problem."

"Yeah?" He rests his chin on her head, and she hears his heart beating in his chest. Meredith closes her eyes. The sound is extremely comforting.

"Yeah."

They're quiet for a long few minutes, simply allowing Meredith's mind to clear and feel more normal again.

"What can I do?"

Meredith pulls back to look at him, feeling the familiar ache in her midsection as she does so. "What?"

"When something like that happens. If I notice you...dreaming. What should I do?"

Meredith bites her lip, adjusting her position in the bed to be something less painful than the awkward slouch-twist thing she's doing right now. "Wake me up. I don't want to relive those for longer than I have to."

Derek nods, "I can do that."

"And...maybe don't touch me for the first minute or two after I wake up. Just...talk, or something. I'll need some time to figure out where I am. Your voice helps, touching not so much."

"What if something like this happens again? You almost lost consciousness."

"It won't happen again," Meredith says sharply, though somewhere in the back of her mind she feels it's not true.

Her tone signals that she's done talking about this, so Derek lets it drop. They've made a lot of progress today already, and he remembers Teddy's words.

"Can I...?" Derek opens his arms, motioning that he wants to hold her.

She smiles, nodding. "Just be careful of my spine and stomach."

Meredith knows she won't be able to go back to sleep for a while, but Derek doesn't need to know that, and she feels bad enough for waking him up.

So, with her smaller body safely in his arms, Derek closes his eyes and lets sleep overtake him again.