A/N: I just want to say I have no formal military experience. If I got details wrong or anything, please don't hesitate to message me to inform me so I can make appropriate changes. Thank you.

March 8, 2013

It was too damn hot in the desert for Finn. He hated it. He always had sand on him, was always too hot and sweaty, and he was always tired. He tried calling his mom as often as he could, which wasn't often, unfortunately. And neither was calling Rachel. He tried to write them as much as he could, but it was difficult. Any time that wasn't spent sleeping was spent training, or trying to relax the best he could, or even patrolling. With every letter from Rachel was a statement telling him to be careful.

He kept a picture of her with him all the time, in the pocket of his jacket. The edges were worn away from the amount of times he'd looked at it, held it in his hands. It killed him to leave her, to have to walk away from her to go to Afghanistan. But it was what he'd signed up for. They both knew that.

"What's got your panties in a twist, Hudson?" someone asked from behind him. Turning, he saw it was Antonio. They'd been in the same platoon, had quickly hit off a friendship. They busted each other's balls, but when it boiled down to it, they had each other's backs.

"Just thinking about my girl, dude. I fuckin' miss her," he answered as his friend sat next to him on the bench. "She's my beacon of light, my bright star," he continued, tucking the picture away again.

"You can be such a pansy, sometimes, Hudson," Antonio joked, punching him lightly on the shoulder. "You ready for tomorrow?"

"Hell no, man. I'll never be ready for going out there. But it is what it is. I just remember Rachel and how I promised her I'd come back safely. I can't break my promise now, can I?" Antonio just laughed.

"I know what you mean. Ramona would bring me back to life, just to kill me again." That sounded a lot like Rachel to Finn. "Let's go get some chow and then hit the hay. We have an early morning." He knew his friend was right, standing up and heading to the tent.

"Will I ever get used to how horrible these things taste?" Finn asked halfway through the meal, only response being a shoulder shrug from Antonio. "Guess you're right."

When the two finished, they laid down in their respective beds. It seemed like Finn had just fallen asleep when he was shaken awake by Antonio. By the looks of it, it was still the middle of the night.

"What the hell, man?" he groaned, sitting up on his elbows to see his friend fully dressed already.

"We have to go, now!" he told Finn. Finn had no idea what was going on, but he listened, throwing his uniform on quickly. The two walked out to see their Sergeant waiting for them next to the humvees.

"Listen, men," he told the group of about fifteen. Finn wasn't good at guessing amounts. "I know getting up earlier than expected isn't what you wanted. But there's been an incident with the group before us and we have to go get them. Stick together, and don't do anything stupid!" Finn wasn't planning on it. He couldn't tell if this was like a vehicle problem or an enemy problem, and if anybody else had an idea, they didn't give any hints.

He had to think of Rachel and how he promised he'd be back. He was scared, he always was, but he had a mission to focus on. He tried not to let his mind wander too far from the current objectives as he and Antonio got in the humvee, weapons close to them. They all made small chat, Antonio the only one he really knew. He knew the names of the others, but had never gone out of his way to have a friendship with them.

"So, tell me about this Rachel, Hudson," Antonio suggested as they drove, blocking out everybody else's conversations.

"What haven't I told you, man? She's my everything. We got married the day before we deployed. She wanted to be able to call me her husband, and can you blame her? I mean look at me." The two men had a good laugh about that. "You haven't told me much about Ramona though. I feel like I'm always the one talking."

"What's there to say? We met when I was a bartender and she was a waitress and hit it off right away. We had a kid before getting married and now she's a teacher," Antonio told him, keeping it short. Antonio never really talked much about his family.

"Surely there's more than that. I feel like I've told you literally everything there is to know about Rachel," he pressed, wanting to hear more.

"Kid, when you get to be my age, you'll learn that sometimes, not talking is the best way to get through it all." Finn just shrugged. He loved talking about Rachel, helped him process everything that he'd seen and done. Everyone processed things in their own way, though. And at that moment, his life changed.

He heard the explosion before he felt in, the humvee flipping. His head knocked against the window as it landed. For a moment, he thought he was dead, but when he looked around he found out that he was very much alive, searing pain shooting through his left leg. Antonio was looking around as well, their eyes meeting in mutual fear.

"What the hell was that?" Finn asked as Antonio got the door open, pulling Finn out before going back for the others.

Finn sat on the sand, looking around. One of the humvees was completely destroyed, knowing everyone in it was probably dead, or too far gone to save. When he looked down at his leg, he saw his ankle at an odd angle, knowing it was broken. Then, he honed in on the sound of gunfire, holding his own weapon up for protection as he stood, trying not to put any weight on the ankle. Antonio and the three other men from their humvee were relatively unscathed, nothing major as they all looked around, trying to find the others and figure out were the gunfire was coming from. That's when Finn heard it, the sound of a bullet whizzing by his head. It was never a sound he'd get used to. He heard the distinct noise of a bullet hitting a body, turning to see Antonio looking at him before falling to the ground.

"No!" he yelled, hobbling over to his friend as fast as he could. "Antonio!"

He knelt down next to his friend, ignoring the yelling around him. He had to make sure they got home for their wives. Surveying the damage, he saw where the bullet had entered his friend's abdomen. His first instinct was to pack the wound, rummaging through his pack to find the gauze and doing just that.

"You're going to be fine, man," he assured Antonio who looked up at him, wheezing.

"When you get back, make sure Ramona knows I love her," Antonio told him, grabbing onto Finn's wrist, leaving a bloody handprint.

"No. I'm not gonna do that. Because you're gonna tell her that yourself, you hear me?" Finn was adamant about the fact that his friend was going to survive this.

He didn't want to give up on him. They'd been in Hell together, surely they were going to go home together. Finn finished packing the wound before trying to find the other survivors, weapon still drawn as he hobbled his way around. That was until a searing pain ripped through his shoulder, causing him to fall to his knees in a mixture if self preservation and absolute fear.

He looked down at the shoulder, seeing a bullet wound. He'd been shot. What else was there to experience now? He really shouldn't have asked himself that as he felt a boot kick his back, holding him on the ground as a familiar language was spoken. But just because it was familiar didn't mean Finn knew what the man was saying. His helmet came off and he felt the barrel of a gun come in contact with his head. This was it, wasn't it? He didn't want it to be it, but he was resigned. There was no getting out of this. The last thing he remembered was the feeling on a blunt object come down on the back of his skull.