Notes from the writer: The main characters don't belong to me, unfortunately! I just borrowed them for good. The storyline (my own creation) plays along the world of ‚Spotlights' and ‚Memories'. Exactly this story is the full version of the first episode of ‚Memories' (that means it's about S02e01 DIY or DIE) with the background of Mac and Jack in the sandbox. The story's longer and much more darker than I intended to write, but that's the way sometimes. What can you do? Blame the plot-bunnies for it…

Warning: Some chapters contend violence and torture, which's not described in all details, but definitely more than just a simple word. Everyone who's triggered by that, should not read this story.

Afghanistan

Mac fell down on his bed. In honest these simple metal frames with the thin mattresses shouldn't earn the label ‚bed', but Mac could not hope for a better place to sleep for the next months. The situation could only get worse.

His shoes stood exactly next to each other, but he wasn't able to get out of the rest of his clothes. Only a few minutes of relaxing! Tiredly Mac lifted his legs onto the mattress and sighed softly. The pockets of his trousers pressed against his thighs, his shirt stuck wet from his sweat to his body. He laid his face on one side down, without realizing the strains of his blond hair, which fell over his forehead. Only a few minutes, then he intended to go showering and getting something to eat. He closed his eyes. He disarmed 43 explosives today. It was a new personal record. More than ever before! Unimpressed by that record his OMT wasn't confident with his work. Honestly his overwatch was never confident and Mac and his work didn't seem to be really his concern. Most of the time he stood in the shadows, smoked, dumped water over his head and beefed about the heat. Mac was always concentrated on his work without listening to the complaining over his comms. He knew that Marvin never really watched out for him, it was always the same. Since the events with Pete and Pena, there was no OMT, who was really interested to work with him. Why should it be other at the army then in normal life? Most of the people, with whom Mac worked weren't really interested in him. Sooner or later they all left. That's why Mac didn't get used to Marvin and Marvin made it easy for him. Mac's eyes were closed tight. Only a few minutes more…
He slept dead to the world. The exhaustion let him be more like unconscious in a dreamless sleep.
No shower, no late night dinner.

On the next morning a hit against his thigh woke him.
„Get ready! Leaving in ten minutes!"
Mac blinked half-sleeping into the shimmering light of the sunrise just creeping into the tent. His OMT looked angry at him, turned around and murmured: „My dear, I want to sleep as much!"
Slowly Mac's brain came to working. Ten minutes? Shit! Instantly he jumped on the wooden floor, got into his boots and searched for a fresh shirt. He couldn't change the rest of his clothes. There wasn't enough time right now. On the way to the Humvee he fetched himself a few sandwiches, which would taste as flat as always, three protein bars and water. He was balancing all that stuff, while he hindered his jacket to slip over his shoulder. When he arrived at the vehicle, Marvin starred at him with anger, but Mac ignored his gaze. Awkwardly he opened the backdoor and threw all the things onto the backseat, took one sandwich and water and seated himself on the front seat.

„Helmet?"
Mac nodded toward the back. „Still in there, I didn't took it out yesterday."
Marvin grunted disdainfully. He started the engine and drove through the gate. After leaving the camp site he turned to the left. Mac sighed. A mission in the territory of the rebels.
„Where exactly do we go?"
Marvin told him the name of a small village in the mountains about two hours drive.
„What's the mission there?"
„Why do you think you're with me?"

Mac sighed again. Sometimes he wished he would get more information from his partner. Surely it was about explosives, bombs or mines, but that was just the beginning of all what was important for him to know. He needed to get the information on the spot by himself. Bored he looked out of the window and gazed over the landscape. At the horizon he saw the chain of mountains that would be their destination today. Still tired he leaned his head against the glass and half-closed his eyes. He didn't sleep and his brain worked through all different possibilities, which could await him. Deep in thoughts he ate his sandwich and drank a few sips of the water, until they came closer to the mountains. The street winded up in long turns to the left and right.

The breaking of the glass destroyed the relative silence of the monotonous motor humming. Marvin sank onto the steering wheel, without making any sound. Until Mac realized what just happened the motionless body forced the driverless humvee into the rocks for a sudden stand. Mac was pressed into his seatbelt. The air of his lungs was squeezed out and he couldn't breathe for a moment. Slowly he leaned back against his seat, tried to take a deep breath and opened the seatbelt. Then he looked over to his driver. A big hole at Marvin's forehead and the mostly missing back let no doubt about his death. Mac realized that there was no shot at him, exactly at the moment, when he saw a group of insurgents with their guns raised at him. Without understanding the words, he knew that they wanted him to go out. He had no choice here. Slowly he opened the front door, raised his hands and stepped out. The masked rebels surrounded him and pushed him away from the vehicle. Mac just saw them setting the car on fire and went down unconscious as soon as the butt of a gun hit his head.