Disclaimer: In First Chapter.
Warning: Looked over but not professionally betaed.
A/N: I've researched quite a lot about Vietnam, but no matter how much I may research I won't get it very much right, but hopefully it's still at least a little bit believable.

Almost a day after boarding the plane, she and several others finally exited it. They touched down somewhere outside the Udon Thani base, where she and a bunch of women were quickly shipped North to a small outpost just outside Dien Bien Phu. That first night in her cot, under mosquito netting, in the holey tent doubling as the nurse's quarters Margaret finally started realising that this wasn't Kansas anymore. She was now by herself completely, thousands of miles away from home, no was coming to save or protect her, and as soon as she woke up the next day, life was going to change drastically and forever.

She was directed to meet at the canteen for 0530 the next morning, and she did. However, by 0555 she had to ask to be excused as the fear in her gut started to win out, she knew she had to get to somewhere private before she lost what meager contents she had in her stomach onto the shoes of her CO.

Luckily, after only 15 minutes in the Head, Margaret's stomach ceased rebelling. And, as she wiped away the last of the vomit from her mouth and washed her hands and then her face with the soggy canvas scrap provided, she managed to re-centre her self.

She was here to do a job and do the job to the best of her abilities. Time to buck up or…well she couldn't ship out. That wasn't allowed. But, she did realise that no one here could afford to be compromised by her weaknesses. It was war – everyone involved wanted to go home just as much or even more than she did – they were all in the same boat. No time to play 'poor me' out here.

Fighting flies, heat, fatigue and nausea, Margaret worked hard saving the lives of many and mourning the loss of the few she couldn't.

Exactly a month into her tour she got news of an incoming injured infantry squad, who had been ambushed not too far from there. In the group was a young Sergeant named Rob Carter, and as soon as she caught a glimpse of the icy blue eyes underneath the dirt, grime and blood that caked his face, she knew she was hooked.

Sergeant Carter had a deep cut over his left eye that took almost a dozen stitches to close, a broken collar bone and a gash on his right leg that ran the length of his ankle from the knee down. Luckily for him, most of his injuries were somewhat superficial and would require only time to heel. Some of the rest of the men in his squad were no where near as lucky, 2 died on the operating table and 1 died 2 days later from an unchecked staph infection.

In the days and weeks it took for Rob to get back to fighting status they'd grown quite close, despite repeated warnings about fraternising with the patients by her CO. At night, after her shifts, Margaret would sneak around to Rob's bed where they end up just talking until the sun came up. There was just something about the man that had hooked her from the very start – she'd never ever felt the same way about a man, nor did she ever believe she would again. She was a Hogan, Hogan's did things right the first time.

Thanks to Rob, for the first time since getting news of her tour Margaret finally started to see a bright spot in the darkness.

But the honeymoon period of their young relationship came to an abrupt halt in the early hours of the day Rob was to return to active duty, about 3 and a half weeks after the incident. While they were sleeping their camp was ambushed and literally dragged from their beds and captured by a bunch of North Vietnamese soldiers.

The most stricken soldier in their camp at the time was Staff Sergeant Franklin Greggs. He'd lost both legs and most of his eye sight in a failed attack on the Vietcong a week before and was still heavily medicated. There was absolutely no way he'd be able to move with the rest. So, the Vietnamese, in a moment of despicable brilliance, quickly forced the rest of them into a field just beyond the boundaries of the camp.

And then the leader of the gang had a couple soldiers go back for Greggs.

Once they retrieved Greggs they proceeded by dropping the barely conscious man unceremoniously to the ground just a few feet in front of the terrified group of Americans. Then the same man who'd ordered Greggs retrieval pulled what looked like an American issue Colt .45 from a holster on his belt, held it flush to the centre of Greggs' forehead and without even blinking fired 2 shots in quick succession.

The scream that ripped from Margaret's throat was quickly muffled by Rob as he forced her head into his chest. Despite Rob's lighting fast reflexes, the split-second Margaret had seen of execution and the seconds immediately following it; specifically, the gore covered ground around the Sergeant's body, would be forever etched in her memory.

Not five minutes after the execution they were all blindfolded and loaded onto a decrepit looking truck with nothing but a moldy canvas cover and a splintered wood frame that seem to splinter off and dug into their hands as soon as it was touched to help heave themselves up into the truck.

The only thing Margaret felt for miles was the frigid wind against her face and Rob's hand over hers. The only thing she heard for miles were moans and groans from the injured and recovering soldiers and muffled sobs from her fellow nurses. The harsh whispers of the Vietnamese Soldiers from the front of the truck went unnoticed as she focused on keeping as still and as calm as she could. A survival tactic she'd gleaned from her many hours spent surrounded by the worst bits of the war.

Calm kept you sane. Calm kept you alive.

With every bump in the beaten jungle track a different scene from her childhood would flash in her mind. The first memory was of the first time she remembered venturing to Bridgeport to visit her grandparents, the second Deborah's first day of school, the third her dad finally getting discharged from the Forces, fourth her mom getting her first dishwasher, the fifth came right on the heels of her mother's dishwasher, it'd happened the next day - the day her dad brought home the colour TV for the Den. The seventh memory came around a half a blink later, it was of the time they ventured across country during the summer before Eddy started High School. The next one to flash by was her little secret - hers and Eddy's. It had been about that time she caught Eddy in the backseat of the station wagon with Kelsey Jackman his Senior year.

The last image that entered her head before the truck came to an abrupt stop was of that god awful photo of the four of them in the kitchen from four years prior that now sat on the bookshelf in the Den. She'd always figured it to be of the Hogan's in their elements - Eddy had just gotten back from baseball practice, Deborah had just teased her hair to within an inch of its life, Margaret had just woken up from a homework induced nap, and her father was basically covered in oil from working on the car out back. Her mother, the only presentable one of the five, had gotten out of being in the picture because she'd taken it.

She bit back on a hard sob as two sets of hands grabbed her and violently yanked her from the truck.

God, she wanted to go home.