2 days later. 1:45 PM. Afghanistan

The call came at 0920 hours. A relatively quiet day had turned into horror-spun chaos. A bomb in a village market had gone off, creating panic and drawing out the combined Afghan and American forces stationed at an outpost there. As soon as they began rescue efforts, the attack had begun. While the combined forces were able to push back the insurgents, there were casualties. Mostly the civilians caught in the bomb blast and now the crossfire. A request for aid was made and Bagram sent out two teams of medical personnel. Syd had a team of four nurses and one other doctor helping her to triage, organize transport, and basically maintain control of the staging area. Drew and his team were working search and rescue operations. Right now, they were busy evacuating people from the 'warm' zones, just outside where the thick of the fighting was. There wasn't too much fighting left from what command was saying. Just a couple pockets they needed to force out. That was good, because they already had forty dead and over 100 wounded.

"Captain," Syd said coming over to where he was passing on a report for his latest rescues. She was exhausted and hot, covered in dust and other people's blood. She wanted a shower and to sleep, but didn't they all?

Drew was in much a similar state, his eyes looking almost blankly at her. He was running very much on automatic, and it had to be that way. His team had reached the market where the attack was initiated and it wasn't pretty. Not that the staging area was any better. Hundreds of people, the majority of them civilians, were gathered around, some crying out in grief and some in pain. Others were in shock or disbelief, while still others were angry. There were a few soldiers mixed in both as patients and peacekeepers. The whole situation was chaos.

"Major," he acknowledged before turning to look at Ugh. "Can you repack our kits and meet me back here in fifteen?"

"Yes sir," Ugh nodded then headed off.

Turning to Jim-Jo and Marsh he ordered, "refill on water and see if you can get some food for us?"

"Yes sir," Jim said, "ammo for Rambo here too?"

Drew nodded and sighed, "command said we were low..."

"I'll try not to waste it again, maybe just use my rifle as a bat?" Marsh joked tiredly. He was referring to the small group of insurgents that had discovered them during search and rescue. Marsh and Jim-Jo had managed to pin them down, protecting Drew and Ugh who were in a bad spot with a patient. They had held them there long enough for backup to come.

"Yeah. No. I don't want them that close. Ammo it is," Drew joked back. The two younger men laughed before they too headed off. It was then that he turned his full attention to Syd.

"Sorry Ma'am. What do you need?" He asked tiredly.

"It's fine Captain. I heard about your firefight. Wanted to check on you. Garry also was cussing up a storm when he heard. That means he's worried, right?" She said with a tired smile.

"Depends, what phrase did he use?" Drew asked, returning the smile.

"I believe it was "those fucking shit headed idiots", but don't quote me…" she answered shrugging.

Drew laughed softly briefly taking a moment to let the tension ease before gathering himself again. . "That is what that usually means, yeah…. We're all right. It was a little tense but Marsh and Jim-Jo did good," Drew reassured. "Shouldn't be too many more hostiles out there. They've got them pressed to one area. I don't think we'll have any more problems going back out."

"Good. Because if you got yourself killed and I got my tour extended, I would figure out how to bring you back to kill you myself."

Drew smiled and shook his head. "That would be something you'd do," he said, then growing serious, he asked "How's it looking here?"

"Most victims are walking wounded. We've got at least twenty civilians going to Bagram for critical care and ten soldiers. Those that are serious but not critical are being sent to the local hospital. The rest of the injured are going to a Red Cross refugee clinic for treatment. A lot of people are refusing to leave though, can't blame them," Syd updated him. "Garry has been fantastic about coordinating the transportation for everything. More efficient than I could be, glad you loaned him to me."

Drew shrugged, "wasn't much he'd be doing with me except getting shot at. How much longer do you think we're gonna be here?"

"You tell me, you're the one crawling through the mess," Syd came back, crossing her arms in front of her.

Drew sighed and shook his head, "we're on the edge of the market. There are more bodies there than wounded. We can't move forward though, cause they're still flushing out the insurgents."

Syd shook her head. In a weird way, violence against soldiers made sense to her. She understood battlefield injuries and the horror of it. She didn't like it, she didn't want it to continue, but it was easier to accept a soldier had a bullet wound than a child. She would never, in all her years, understand why anyone would set a bomb off in a civilian market or shoot and terrorize their own country man. She hated scenes like this one, they reminded her of the ugliness of people and always made her feel uneasy.

"Keep yourselves safe and no heroics. You four are medical staff out there, let the grunts do the fighting," she ordered, her tone leaving no room for arguments.

Drew nodded, distracted as his men returned, prepared to go back out. "Yes Ma'am," he said automatically because that was what you were supposed to say to an order.

"Drew," Syd said firmly, this time getting his attention. "I mean it. No heroics. Just come back home tonight. Alright?"

Drew was quiet for a moment, a little confused as to the urgency in her voice. He didn't comment on it though, he just gave her yet another tired smile and said, "No heroics. I'll make sure you catch your plane home."

With that said he saluted then left to rejoin his men and head back out. The danger was low now that they had the fighting contained to one area. Drew and his team were experienced soldiers. He had reassured her that it would be fine, almost promised her and she trusted him. So why was the mom in her screaming to call him back and keep him from going into the market again?

-line-

It was slow but steady progress through the market. The street was eerily quiet except for the gunfire that echoed from just a mile up. The damage was minimal, the bomb blast radius confined to the market's center and just a few shops. Most of the residual damage was from the firefight between the insurgents and the troops.

Sadly, the majority of the victims they were finding had died, most from gunshot wounds. There had been about ten bodies so far. They had found a mother and her two sons huddled in a stall, scared, bruised, and exhausted but otherwise fine. Ugh and Marsh had taken the family back to base while Jim-Jo and Drew continued making their way through the street. The combat unit ahead of them would occasionally radio back reports of other walking wounded and civilians who had taken cover, advising the base to expect foot traffic. That was at least a positive.

Currently Drew and Jim-Jo were behind cover taking a quick water break. They were in a shop close to the blast area; both nearly over heated, covered in dust, exhausted, and ready to quit. The occasional sound of weapons fire drifted back to them, but that was so common that the pair had mostly tuned it out. Instead they had focused their attention on the area around them, as tired as they were, they knew better than to be distracted.

"What ya think Doc?" Jim-Jo sighed. "Time to get back at it?" He didn't sound thrilled at the thought, and to be honest neither was Drew.

"Yeah. Unfortunately. But on the bright side," he answered, standing up, "We're almost done this round. Hopefully we'll have a relief unit soon."

"I thought we were the relief unit?" Jim-Jo quipped as he too stood up.

"Don't remind me," came the groaned reply.

The pair took a moment to look around before stepping out into the street. It had been clear, no sign of enemies or danger. There had been no warnings from the combat unit just a few blocks over. No indication that the insurgents were even close to where they were. It was the definition of relative safety, and in a second that was all shattered.

Jim-Jo had been the first to step out into the open. He had stood, partially protected by the building in that sort of relaxed alertness. The kind that meant you were aware of the area around you but didn't see any threats. But the problem was, just because you didn't see them didn't mean they weren't there. As Jim-Jo stood there, he was unaware that the insurgents had split into two groups. He didn't know that a small team had moved to flank the combat unit and were not even a block away from where he and Drew had sheltered. He didn't know that one of them had taken aim at him...

He didn't know until the bullet ripped through his arm, that is.

Jim-Jo cried out at the searing pain, stumbling back towards the building he had been in. He didn't make it far before the second shot tore through his leg and he fell. He lay in the dirt, pain engulfing him, as the sky erupted above him. In a detached understanding, he knew that Drew was returning fire. He heard the quick volleys, knew they were standard cover fire. He felt Drew grab his vest, felt the jolt through his body as he was suddenly shifted. He cried out as he was dragged, the movement jarring his injuries. The surge of pain was so overwhelming that for a moment he blacked out. When the world came back into focus, he was tucked well and truly behind cover, blocked from view of the door with Drew over top him. Drew was on the radio; Jim-Jo could hear him calling in their position. Could hear him saying "man down" but he couldn't exactly understand what was happening.

"Doc… guess I'm the dumbass now…" he called, his voice heavy.

Drew looked at him, eyes hard. They softened when he met Jim-Jo's though. "Hang in there, help's on the way…" he said. Jim-Jo could tell the other was examining him, already cataloging the care he needed. It was reassuring, having Drew as his doctor. He knew what the man could do.

"Doc…" he said again, trying to find out how bad it was. He hurt. He was bleeding. But they also had hostiles in bound. They needed to move.

"It's alright Jim. Cavalry's coming," Drew looked up to the door. There wasn't anyone there, not yet. He shouldered his weapon and pulled out a tourniquet. "Your arm is a through shot. Not too bad. Leg is a problem though. This is gonna hurt a little," he warned a millisecond before he applied the tourniquet.

Jim-Jo cried out as fiery hot pain once again surged through his leg. It was followed quickly by another burning pain at his arm as a pressure bandage was applied. It took less than a minute for Drew to apply the first and most basic level of care he could then returned to a defensive position; a testament to the medic he had once been. For Jim-Jo though, his head was left spinning and he felt like he was going to vomit.

"Hey. Stay with me Jim!" Drew called, repositioning the other so he was sitting up.

Coming back to reality, Jim-Jo was aware of people approaching. He hopped it was the cavalry all the while knowing it wasn't. He felt fear wash over him; he was down, he couldn't help protect them. Did Drew have enough ammo to hold the hostiles off? Was back up coming? How far out were they? How outnumbered were they? How were they getting out of this?

"Jim!" Drew snapped in a harsh whisper. The Taliban were definitely closer now. He could hear them talking. "Eyes front," Drew hissed, the authority in his voice making the other focus.

"Captain?" He whispered back and managed to look at Drew. For the barest of seconds he saw the other smile before going back into command mode.

"You're gonna lay low and remain in cover. Play dead. Understand?"

"Sir…" something about this didn't feel right. Something seemed decided and he sensed he wasn't going to like this decision, "Sir... wha…"

"That's an order. Play dead," Drew barked in an almost frantic whisper as the enemy approached. He glanced up in the direction of the door quickly before looking back a last time at Jim-Jo, and said in a kinder voice, "it's all gonna be alright Jim-Jo."

Then he was gone.

-line-

6:00 PM, San Antonio

Rick was humming as he came into the apartment. He dropped his grocery bags on the counter and sighed as he was wrapped in the beautiful wonderful air conditioning. How it could be evening and still so damn hot was almost beyond him. Not even four tours had prepared him for Texas springs. Still the heat couldn't dampen his spirit. In less than a month, he was going to be starting his new job. His classes were finished and he'd passed with an A. Drew would laugh as soon as he told him, because he had told Rick that he would pass just fine. Even when he was freaking out during the finals, Drew just told him to relax. It was always funny how that worked between them; they could always see how well the other was doing just never themselves. Hell, he could remember all the times Drew would lose his mind over a test or a practical and Rick would just shake his head.

Thinking of Drew, Rick looked at the clock, his humming dying. His brow furrowed as he realized that he hadn't heard from the other man today. Not even an email. It wasn't that odd, really, but it made him wonder. It was somewhere around 0330 hours over there now, already tomorrow, so he doubted he would hear from him. A wave of loneliness washed over him and he sighed. "Seventy-three days… seventy-three days and he's home," Rick murmured to himself.

He smiled as he remembered when Drew had come home from his second tour. He had gone to pick him up from the airport and had asked if he'd eaten and Drew hadn't. Rick asked what he wanted for his first official meal back and Drew had answered McDonalds…

"Uh-uh. No... You're first meal back is not going to be that garbage. Nah…" Rick laughed.

"Come on, it's no worse than what they fed us over there," Drew said, trying to cover a yawn. Jet lag and being up thirty hours straight were kicking his ass big time.

"Well, now you're home. So now you get omelets…" Rick said.

"Omelets? At 1800 hours…" Drew said, sounding skeptical.

"Yeah. I'm gonna make you an omelet…" Rick said, smiling.

"Isn't that the only thing you can cook?" Drew teased.

"Hey baked apples. I can make that too," Rick mumbled in a fake pout. Drew had laughed. "That's what we'll have. Omelets and baked apples."

Drew, still laughing, shook his head and said, "a home cooked meal, huh?"

Rick had laughed and called him a smart ass, or something like that, reaching for the other's hand so he could kiss it; so damn thankful to be able to touch the other man. "Only the best for you," he had said, and Drew had just laughed again.

They had in fact had omelets, and apples too. The rest of that night had been spent in bed, though not exactly the way Rick had hopped. Drew had fallen asleep pretty fast after eating, pressed to Rick's side. Of course, waking up the next morning had made up for the lack of 'excitement' and most of that first day had also been spent in bed… it was funny how now he really looked forward to Drew falling asleep in his arms again and not just sex. With a wistful smile, Rick began putting away the groceries. "Seventy three days better fucking fly by," he mumbled to himself. It was roughly a half hour later that his phone rang.

He frowned when he recognized a government number, wondering why the US Army would be calling at almost 1900 hours. Then he felt his stomach clench as a wave of impending doom unexplainably washed over him. "Rick Lincoln," he answered, voice barley steady.

"Captain Lincoln, can you hear me okay? I have some static on my end," Came a garbled voice. It was a female's and Rick recognized it from two days ago and his video chat with Drew.

"Your Drew's Major, right Ma'am?" He asked, and he felt fear crawling along his spine. His heart was speeding up and he was fighting the urge to panic. All of the reasons he could think of that the Major would be calling were bad.

"Yeah. Major Jennings… Captain, I'm sorry about the hour but I wanted to inform you… wanted to make sure you knew," she sounded tired, her voice strained and hitched in away that he couldn't blame on the static in the line.

"Major. What's happened to Drew, Ma'am?" He asked, his Ranger training, the part that let him override his panic, kicking in. It was the only thing that was keeping him calm.

She sighed on the other end of the phone, and took a pause to gather herself. Even still, when she spoke next he could hear the emotion she was forcing in check. "At approximately 1500 hours, Drew and a soldier in his command were ambushed while performing search and rescue duties during a combat operation. The soldier was injured and Drew managed to get them both to cover and relay their position to a nearby unit. He provided first aid to the soldier, saving his life, but," and here her voice hitched forcing her to take a moment to regain control. "However" she started again, "the enemy was closing in and they were outnumbered. It is unclear exactly what happened, but Drew had moved to defend their position when he was overwhelmed. He is now missing in action and is believed to be a prisoner of war."

And just like that, the world shattered and he forgot how to breathe. It was only because of his training that he was able to remain standing, phone still pressed to his ear. He was shaking, and tears were blurring his vision and burning his eyes. He would give anything to wake up right now, to make this nightmare stop. But he had to remain in focus, his emotions in check, because the Major was still talking.

"The good news, at least relatively speaking, at this time we don't believe he is seriously injured or dead. We also believe that he is still in the combat area. The operation is still underway, so we don't believe he's been moved," she said her voice steadier. But to Rick, this all sounded like grasping at straws… false hope. Because he knew, once you were taken, you were a dead man walking.

"How… how long?" He managed to ask, his mind calculating, trying to figure out if there was even a chance.

"About thirteen hours. The Army just officially declared him missing, and suspected POW," she answered.

"You don't even know?" He couldn't keep the anger or the sob out of his voice. He had his training to keep him in control, but that could only take him so far.

"I'm sorry. We're still looking for him. We're going to find him," she said and he wished he believed her.

That made him angry. "Don't say that. Don't tell me that. Because I can't…" Rick took a shuddering breath, "does his parents know? Have they…"

"Yes. Notification was made," she said, her voice sober. "I have to go now. I promise, I'll try and keep you updated. And Captain… I'm sorry."

Rick didn't respond, he couldn't. His throat was closing, his chest constructing, and body growing numb. The call was disconnected, but he remained frozen in place, exactly how he was, until his body began to shake. As soon as the involuntary movement began, the weight of a thousand pains crashed in on him and there was nothing he could do to bare it. He collapsed to his knees. His eyes, wield and wide, staring at the hell that now surrounded him. Sure, nothing was ominous or threatening, everything still looked the same, but now it was all frozen. His entire world had frozen in this moment. The countdown to Drew's return, the repairs to their relationship, even the air around him, all of it was frozen. And he was oh so helpless.

He didn't know if Drew was alive or dead, so he couldn't mourn. He was angry, so damn angry at the world and the war and the Army, but he didn't have anything there to fight. He wanted to go over there, to be a Ranger and launch a rescue or do something to help, but he didn't have his fucking leg. He was useless, absolutely useless, and the man he loved had never needed help more than now.

"Damn it!" He shouted slamming his hands into the floor. And once he did that, he couldn't stop. He unleashed a flurry of violence, beating his fists into the floor until his knuckles were bloody and his hands were achingly numb. With his energy spent, he sank back onto his butt, eyes unfocused and mind blank, staring into the frozen nothing that was his hell now.