1:00 PM. Bagram US Air Force Base.

Eight hours ago, she thought she was never going to see this man again. Now she was standing here trying to figure out how to keep him alive. The Sergeant that found him said initially Drew had been conscious and coherent enough to talk until his body went into respiratory distress. He had passed out shortly after a coughing fit, only responding to painful stimulation. When the field medic had arrived, Drew was coughing so violently he had started turning blue. The medic had managed to ease his symptoms with just an O2 mask, but now it was looking like she was going to have to intubate.

Drew had an upper respiratory infection that was quickly turning into pneumonia. Worst yet, there was water still in his lungs, significantly increasing his risk of dry drowning. She was monitoring his oxygen levels and airway closely. So far, his breathing was stable enough on just a rebreather. The hope was that the antibiotics would kick in before she had to vent him. She couldn't start diuretics yet, like she wanted to, because he was too dehydrated. And of course, there were the rest of his injuries.

The least serious were the stress fractures to both wrists. They just needed to be set properly and splinted. The swelling in his hands were going down already, and he didn't appear to have any permanent motor damage from the prolonged lack of circulation. Still, the rope burns, the bloody abrasions, and heavy bruising to his wrists made the minor injuries look worse. He had more bruising to his chest, ribs, and stomach that had gotten him some X-rays and an ultrasound. Good thing too because they found the broken rib and bruises to his right kidney. So, now she was monitoring his renal function but only as a precaution.

He was running a fever of 103, severely dehydrated, evidence of heat exhaustion, and his blood work was a mess. So was his face. He had a broken nose, which had to be set, and then packed because it began bleeding again. He also had a fracture to his supraorbital margin, basically his left eye socket. The right side of his head had a laceration that was too old to stitch, so now it had to be flushed and watched for infection. It was also going to leave a scar at his brow line. The bruising that spread out from around the laceration had earned Drew a CT scan, which confirmed a moderate concussion.

The worst, and ugliest, of his injuries were to his back. His back looked like minced meat. The flesh was welted, torn, and horribly bruised. It was near impossible to determine the exact amount of lashes Drew had received, and she had stopped counting at seventy. At least half of them had been deep enough to be lacerations, all of which were infected. In fact, when he had first arrived there had been a coating of blood, some dried and some fresh, mixing with puss. The rest of the welts just looked horrible, and painful.

There was also, of course, the unknown factor of Drew's mental state. He had been unconscious since arriving and was showing no indication of waking up anytime soon, but he was only asleep. Since getting oxygen, he had become more responsive and she was less concerned about coma and traumatic brain injuries. She had no doubt he was just exhausted, and now that he didn't have to be on alert, his body was just giving into rest. Still, she was scared of what would happen when Drew woke up.

She had no doubt he'd be anxious, or even panicked at first. In fact, she expected him to be combative and confused. What she was hoping for, her best-case scenario, was that Drew would quickly orient to location and self. Anything else would be varying levels of bad. A confused state of mind could be anything from brain injuries to psychological problems and she just couldn't watch him go through that. Not Drew.

"Major," Ugh said, voice low as he walked up to her with a coffee.

"Is that for me Lieutenant?" She asked, a tired smile on her face. She was standing in Drew's room, reading over his chart and checking his latest vitals and labs.

"Nah, it's for the Captain. You know how he gets when he doesn't have it… but you might as well drink it since Sleeping Beauty don't seem to be awake," Ugh was trying to joke. He was trying to be up beat, hopeful, and offer the only kind of comfort he could. Syd appreciated the effort, even if she could tell how worried he was.

Taking the coffee, she gave him a grateful but tired smile. "Thanks," She said and took a drink. "What's on your mind?"

"Just checking on him…" Ugh said but sighed dramatically when Syd gave him that 'uh-huh' look.

"I was speaking to a couple of the soldiers who found him," he started again. "From what they could gather from the Taliban they caught and Drew himself… they made him treat their wounded. They whipped him as punishment because one of them died," Ugh said, a dark look on his face.

"Jesus…" Syd hissed, angry. The unfairness of the act, the cruelty, it was beyond reason. "He's a doctor, not a god. You want someone to live take them to a hospital, not make an injured man do it."

"Or better yet, don't fucking bomb your own people and you won't get hurt," he growled out.

"You know what sucks too? He probably did everything he could for them, regardless of the situation, and they still… God I hate people," Syd shook her head, the mama bear in her showing.

Ugh's anger was plain as day on his face until he looked at Drew. That was when his face softened and his eyes moved back and forth between the man and the monitors.

"He's holding steady. His labs show some improvement. Still early, but it's better," Syd commented.

"What about the infection?" Ugh asked.

"You mean infections? Clearly his lungs are the big worry, but his back's a mess." Syd answered. "IV antibiotics are in and working. When his fever breaks, it'll help. It's a waiting game."

"He's breathing really hard," Ugh said, watching his friend. It was true, the wheezing was audible and the work his body was doing was clear.

"His O2 is steady at ninety-six," Syd assured.

"That's the low end of acceptable, Major, the very low end. Most places would have put him on a vent by now, especially with the respiratory and airway threats," Ugh observed, trying to be casual. He was dangerously close to questioning his superior, which many officers could be offended by. Not Syd, to her, Ugh was a highly trained, highly experienced nurse looking out for the welfare of his patient and friend.

"I know. It's risky, but the longer we keep him off the vent, the lower his risk of damaging his lungs. The more we force his body to depend on itself, the quicker he'll beat this and the healthier his respiratory system will be," she defended.

Ugh nodded, quiet for a moment as he watched Drew. "He's exhausted Major. I know you can see that…" he breathed out harshly shaking his head, "What's the other reason you don't want to vent him? The real one, not the official."

Syd sighed, "If I vent him he goes to Germany. No if, ands, or buts, straight to the ICU. If we can stabilize him without the vent than I can justify sending him back home to Texas."

"Would that be so bad? Sending him to Germany? I mean, he'd be stuck there for a little while, but is it the worst thing?" Ugh asked.

"Physically? No. Honestly, it probably is a good option. But for his mental well-being? I don't think he'd be able to handle that. I think for his mental health he'd be better off in Texas. He won't be alone in Texas," she said.

"His family would be flown out to Germany. He wouldn't be alone," Ugh came back, playing devil's advocate.

Syd shook her head, "from what he's told me about his family, about his dad in particular, I don't think they would go. I think who he considers family, more importantly Rick, are all in Texas. I do know, however, that Rick wouldn't be able to see him in Germany. They won't let him on base without next of kin's permission and his family wouldn't give that. I just… the thought of Drew being alone in some hospital room… Or what if his parents did fly out? Wouldn't that be worse, being around people who rejected him? Especially after what he's gone through…" She had to force herself not to become emotional.

Ugh nodded, and even gave he a small side smile, "I'm glad we agree Major."

She shook her head, "You were just testing huh?"

Ugh nodded, "Yeah. I just want to make sure we do right by him. I know you docs are all about saving lives, sometimes you forget about the person. Just wanted to make sure."

Syd gave him a small smile as she took another sip of coffee. Most doctors would have been offended, but like she knew from the start, Ugh was just looking out for his friend.

-line-

3:20 PM.

Everything was foggy; his head, his vision, his memories, even his body. It all seemed like he was floating, but also not. His head felt like it was in space, but his body felt like it was encased in concrete. There was also the extremely odd sensation of being in pain without actually feeling pain. He drifted for a while, trying to find his way out of the foggy mess. He didn't have the energy to force himself back to clear skies, so his senses were returning to him slowly.

First it was sounds; a steady beeping, staticky white noise, the hum of a fan, footsteps… none of these were sounds he remembered hearing before. He also noticed the air was warm, dry, and not suffocating. He wasn't lying on the floor anymore either. While he wasn't exactly comfortable, he wasn't bound or choking on dirt so that was a bonus. His skin also didn't feel caked in anything anymore. Like he had been washed, which was weird. His wrists felt funny though, stiff and restrained but yet not. He also felt chilled, and achy.

He was aware of a burning pain along his back, but it was like there was a barrier between his brain and skin. He could sense it, but it didn't register. He was also well aware of how awful his chest felt, but he couldn't seem to figure out what to do about it. All the other pain he was supposed to be feeling also began announcing themselves in that abnormal detached way. His head and face hurt, his nose felt stuffed up like he had a cold, and his body felt battered. He tried to open his eyes, but he was so exhausted and it was so hard. He wanted to see what was around him, wanted to understand the changes he sensed, but he just didn't have the energy.

So he drifted, hoping he could find his way out of the fog without effort. It wasn't working exactly how he hoped for. While he was becoming more aware and alert, so to speak, whatever was shielding him from the pain was getting weaker. He was becoming more agitated, more frustrated. The chills that had made him ache before had now disappeared. Now his skin felt like it was on fire and he was dosed in sweat. His muscles still ached and now shivered and cramped. The conflicting feelings of his skin burning but his muscles shivering were so infuriating. He also tasted a dry copper powder in the back of his throat. The pain that had been known was now being felt and it made his brain scream.

His breathing was getting worse; his chest felt like it had a boulder in it. It hurt so much to get air in and it felt like every time he exhaled he would cough. It didn't help that he could only breathe through his mouth because his nose was so stuffy. Making everything worse was his near inability to open his eyes. Not only was it painful to open them, but all he had were slits to attempt to see through. That made his vision blurry and tunneled, and whatever light was in the space with him was blinding. It hurt and so he had basically just given up trying. Besides, it seemed to help with his head, keeping his eyes closed. It made the funny feeling less ominous.

At least it did for a little while. The sounds that had been new and interesting were now annoying at best and frightening more often than not. As the fog in his head cleared, he started have vague memories of hands grabbing him, dragging him… hurting him. When he moved and his back sent a wave of pain through him, he could hear an awful sharp 'thunk' sound mixed with laughter and a scream. When footsteps sounded close, his body went rigid thinking they were coming for him. He couldn't stop the anxious feelings from growing, warping into a horrible pain in his head.

And now there was a damn frantic high-pitch beeping cutting into his skull, drilling into his brain. The obnoxious sound brought with it the panic inducing echo of footsteps; a lot of them, all coming towards him. Then there were voices and his brain was so disjointed that he didn't understand anything being shouted around him. They sounded angry though. He felt them reach for him, just like before. He felt them pulling at him and his only thought was 'not again' before the fever in his body consumed his mind.

-line-

5:40 PM

Syd Jennings was bound and determined not to leave this room until her patient woke up. Not after the near heart attack he had given her. Just over two hours ago, Syd had been paged while on rounds to the heart-stopping scene of Drew seizing. A million and one worst-case scenarios flew through her mind as she barked commands and pushed diazepam. Even with the drug on board, the seizure lasted for almost two minutes. She had watched the monitors, heart in her throat, as the convulsions shook Drew's already abused body. Once they stopped, was when the real panic began. EEGs, MRIs, blood tests, even a lumbar puncture was ordered. She was almost convinced that he had a hematoma or a brain bleed. When those were ruled out, oxygen depletion or maybe meningitis had been contracted, but those too were ruled out. Everything was, and that was when she realized that Drew's fever had climbed to 106 before the seizure, according to the nurse who had come to check him, and was now back down to ninety-nine.

He had had a febrile seizure. They were almost never seen in adults, which was probably why she didn't catch it right away. However, given all the stress his body had been under, the infections, the chest congestion, the combined traumas, and fever… it made sense. His brain had checked out and decided to reset. A hard reboot to help get his body back on track, and it actually seemed to be helping. The nurse had said he was showing signs of waking up before the seizure but now… His fever had broken, the bedding and his clothes had had to be changed due to the sweating. Also, the fact he reopened a few of the wounds on his back. His breathing was still of concern, but there seemed to be less wheezing and she had been able to start him on the diuretic which would help with the fluid still in his lungs. Though he had a very long road to recovery, it would appear that Drew was turning a corner.

Currently, he was tossing and turning in his sleep, mumbling something she couldn't understand. He was responding to his name somewhat, turning his head towards the voice. He could follow simple commands like, "squeeze my hands". He was almost there, but seemed reluctant to actually open his eyes. She didn't blame him; this was probably the most sleep he'd gotten since being over here. However, she really needed him to wake up.

She had called his parents and given them an update. Well, his mother really. She had been the only one of Drew's family Syd had spoken to. While she seemed genuinely concerned, the conversations she had with his mom didn't feel the same as the ones with Rick. Where the woman seemed guarded in her concern, Rick was more open. It just went to strengthen her resolve of doing what she could to get Drew to Texas.

Although, thinking of Rick, she looked at the wall. It would be about 0820 in San Antonio right now. Rick probably would be eager for an update. It was time to break the rules again… Technically, she wasn't supposed to be calling Rick with updates as he wasn't next of kin. But if nobody knew, then nobody could care. Besides she didn't think Drew would object. Pulling out her satellite phone, Syd dialed the number she had for Rick. She'd gotten it from Drew's bunkroom. She felt a little guilty for going through his belongings, though she was fairly certain it would be forgiven. As the phone connected, Drew was racked with another coughing fit and it made Syd wince in sympathy. It was a short-lived fit and the cough was deep, barking, and productive. Good signs, all things considered, but it just sounded painful.

"Rick Lincoln," came a tired voice. She felt bad for the young man; he was running the gambit of the world's worst emotions and in such a short amount of time. The roller coaster was clearly draining him.

"Captain Lincoln," she greeted, trying to sound more reassuring than she had in the past. "I have some news for you."

"Uh… hang on a moment please," he said to her and she could hear children in the background. "Toph," he said, voice muffled, "I'll be right back." Then, after a moment, he came back to her and said, "sorry Ma'am. I've been staying with a friend and his family."

"I understand Captain," she said smiling, she was happy he wasn't going through this alone.

"How's Drew?" He asked, and she heard him hold his breath.

She looked over at the young man who was growing more restless and almost laughed. He seemed to have realized someone was nearby and almost seemed annoyed at the talking. "He's had a rough few hours, and he's been keeping us on our toes," she answered.

"How… how bad is rough?" Rick asked and she realized she never gave the man any details other than the bare bones. The poor guy had no idea what was going on.

"Right… let me start by assuring you he's no longer critical. He's in serious condition, but compared to when he was first brought in he's doing so much better. Okay?"

"Yeah…" Rick breathed out, not from relief but more to brace himself. "So, what happened to him?"

Syd gave Rick a run down of Drew's injuries, sticking as close to the facts as she could. She left out some of the more gruesome details knowing Rick didn't need to know them. He didn't need to picture his boyfriend's torn and welted back or the swelling of his face. He'd see it for himself soon enough as it was. She did however give him a clearer view of just what Drew had gone through. When she was done, she gave him a moment to gather himself. It was a lot to take in, and she was impressed the man didn't seem to be cutting and running. Then again, he was a Ranger, and they weren't known for retreating.

He took a deep breath and said, "I know he's still out, but do you have any indication of his mental state?"

"When he was found he was responsive and oriented. Anything else is going to have to wait until we can reassess him. There's too many unknowns until he wakes up," Syd said, wishing she could give a better answer.

"He… He has PTSD… well, acute stress disorder... from his previous tours. It's not debilitating, he manages it with therapy and has never been medicated," Rick was stammering, nervous. She understood why too, the stigma of mental illness and needing to 'suck it up' was big in the service. Many soldiers thought it would get them discharged instantly so they tried to hide it. That simply wasn't true, there was a difference between being functional and incapacitated.

"I know, Captain. I'm his C.O., they had to tell me. Trust me, we're going to take care of him. We'll assess him and start treatment accordingly. That's the best I can offer right now. I'm sorry."

"No… no. I understand. I appreciate everything you've done. I know I'm not exactly supposed to be called…. I appreciate it. I just…" he took a gulp of air, "when do you expect him to be moved to Germany?"

"He's not going to be, I mean, as long as he doesn't develop any complications. The plan is to send him to San Antonio," she said and could almost feel the relief at the other end of the line.

"Sending him back here? That… that's…" Rick started, a laugh in his voice.

"It's going to be best for Drew. It's also going to take a couple days to get him stabilized for the transport. I need to make sure he doesn't develop any kind of complications. Okay?" She said this firmly, bringing Rick back to reality.

"Yes Ma'am. I understand. Thank you," Rick said.

"Don't thank me until he's home. Have to go now. I'll call with updates as soon as I can," she said waiting for the acknowledgement before hanging up. She looked back over at Drew who had begun a series of closed eyed blinks. It wasn't going to be long before he woke up, she could tell. Shaking her head, she settled back in for the home stretch.

-line-

08:33 AM. San Antonio.

Rick came back to the breakfast table where he, Janet, and Topher had been sitting. The two looked at him expectantly, waiting for the update. Looking at them he couldn't keep the smile off his face, the relief was too strong.

"He's no longer critical. Major said, pending any complications, they're sending him directly state side, right to San Antonio. She's hoping with in the next few days," Rick filled them in.

"Hey! That's great!" Topher said as Janet cheered.

Then the smile faded from Rick's face, "he hasn't woken up yet though, and he…." Rick took a deep breath looking at his hands for a moment to gather his thoughts. "He's got a lot to recover from."

"Yeah, but at least he's going to be where his people can get to him," Janet said. She took Rick's hand and gave it a squeeze. "Tell is what the Major told you. We'll start trying to figure out what to do next, okay?"

Rick took another breath, grateful once again for the support, and began at the top.

-line-

10:00 PM, Bagram Air Force Base.

Drew had woken up shortly after 1800. It had not been a hallmark moment where the hero returns from the brink of death to the loving arms of his family. No this was painful and frightening. He had woken up disoriented and confused from the fever. For several very horrible minutes, he had no idea where he was or that he was safe. The hospital staff had nearly been forced to restrain him before he finally started to recognize the people around him and calm down. The whole episode had lasted less than ten minutes but it had done a number on him.

He had managed to reawaken the burning pain in his back as well as reopen a couple of the lacerations. His lungs, still weak, set off several coughing fits that left his already aching chest tight. He also had several episodes of vomiting, which was something that his exhausted body didn't need to go through. His head throbbed horribly and his face hurt. His nose also had the horrible feeling of pressure and congestion only with the embarrassing knowledge that it was packed. The last bit of fever still had him chilled and achy. His wrists being splinted and hands still swollen made him feel helpless. There was nothing anybody could do for the pain except give him Tylenol, which did little to zilch. He was so bone tired but also so very restless and his mind was no longer blocking the very vivid memories that were a jumbled mess inside his head.

Miserable, he stared at the tray of food he was expected to eat. He was glad he couldn't smell it, because it looked disgusting and he was sure the combined scent and visual would make him vomit again. He was listening to all the activity around him, though there wasn't much. Syd had ensured he was in a more secluded part of the ward, mostly for security. No one had known what he would do when he woke up because of his history of PTSD. Being as smart as she was, Syd had planned for worst case scenario and just assumed Drew would wake up in a full on dissociative episode. Keeping him away from other patients and in an easily locked down area would just be the safest thing. Luckily, he wasn't dissociating, just disoriented; now that he knew where he was, he wasn't a threat to anyone.

So the sounds outside his room were distant foot traffic, the loudspeaker paging personnel, the monitors he was still hooked up to, and the occasional conversation that drifted his way. Half the sounds he was hearing should have been background noise and naturally filtered out by his brain. He shouldn't be able to hear the nurse giving an update to a doctor. He should be able to tell the difference between a faucet dripping or his IV drip. He shouldn't be tracking the casual footsteps of people just walking by… Hyper vigilance was part of life with PTSD and he knew that. It accompanied the majority of his episodes. He just didn't want to have one now, not here. Not alone.

Hell, he didn't even want to be alone. As pathetic as it sounded to him, he wanted someone to be there, holding his hand or holding him, telling him that the monster wasn't real. He had been able to have a short conversation with his mother earlier, though it had been painful to talk. It had helped; her voice had eased some of the fear making him feel that he wasn't so alone. But that reassurance was fading in the wake of isolation. Being so far removed from the flow of the hospital, it was like he was being locked away again or punished. But here was the kicker, the thought of being close to people made him tense in a way that was similar to panic attacks. The idea that someone was so close to him while he was so vulnerable was not one he could handle and he had no doubt it would just make everything worse.

The sounds of approaching footsteps reached him and he snapped his head to the door. His eyes were as wide as they could be, his body tensed, and he felt his heart speed up. He could tell whoever was coming was male, by the way the boots hit the tile, and they weren't hurried. He had no reason to believe they were coming to hurt him, but his mind still heard the sounds of boots stomping the floor outside his 'prison' door.

"Hey Cap, you in there?" Ugh called voice friendly and at ease, "you still awake?"

Drew forced out the breath he was holding attempting to relax. Ugh was still walking down the hall when he announced himself. He knew he was doing it purposely, making noise to warn him, and Drew was grateful. "I'm up," Drew called out and cringed. His voice was still hoarse and his throat still felt raw, and with his nose packed he sounded congested.

"Good," Ugh said as he entered the makeshift room. "Cause I got ya something." The Lieutenant had a mischievous smile on his face as he looked around making sure no one was near. It was then that Drew noticed the satellite phone in his hand and he frowned in confusion. Ugh raised the phone back to his ear and said, "alright Sir, gonna put you on speaker. Give me a sec to step back out." Ugh than pressed a button on the phone and set it on the tray stand next to Drew's plate. "Right… I'll be back in a few," he said as he walked out and now Drew was all kinds of confused.

He stared at the phone for a moment unsure if he should say something. He had no idea who could be on the other line. Just as he was about to say something, however, the other person beat him to it. "Drew?" came Rick's voice and instantly, he felt tears in his eyes.

He choked them back, refusing to cry despite the overwhelming relief and sense of security that now filled him. "Rick?" he managed to say, though it was accompanied by a cough.

"Hey! You recognize me. That's a start," Rick said using the same greeting he always did when one of them came back from traveling, training, or deployment. He was trying to tease him, but Drew could hear the choke in the other's voice.

"It's really good to hear your voice," Drew forced out, taking deep breaths to help stave off the pending coughing fit and his emotions.

"I don't even think I could explain how mutual that feeling is…" Rick took a shuddering breath and let it out, trying to force a laugh. "How ya doing? Really?" he asked, voice so damn soothing.

Too damn soothing, Drew couldn't fight his emotions any longer. A small sob forced its way out and he had to inhale deeply which triggered a coughing fit. He managed to get his breathing back under control quickly, though his chest ached and his voice was now hoarse and wispy. "Well… there's that…" he managed to joke and Rick even laughed a little. "I'm…" and Drew paused here because he wanted to reassure Rick that everything was fine. He wanted to lock down so hard on what he was feeling, what he was going through, and pretend that it never happened but he just didn't have the strength. Not here, not now. Besides this was Rick, he could never lie to Rick. "I'm not okay," he said, and he felt the tears start to fall, "I'm just not okay."

"Well, the good news is," Rick said in a voice that was still choked, "you don't have to be. Not yet and not always. But I promise you; you also don't have to be alone. You're coming home Drew, and I'm going to be right there with you."

That was the best thing Drew had ever heard.