Aisha loved a good firefight. She loved the feel of a gun in her hands and the smell of gunpowder and the ping of spent bullet casings hitting the ground. She hadn't exactly found herself at a loss for firefights in a long time, but since hooking up with the Losers she'd found herself in even more than usual.

Of course, it was different when you were part of a team. Aisha had grown used to the idea of having someone to watch your back, and of the responsibility of watching someone else's. She had even grown to like it, maybe, and even to count on it.

So she probably shouldn't have been surprised when someone crouched down next to her, talking gently and pressing a bandage against the side of her head.

"Hey Aisha," someone said. "I know you were hoping for Clay, but he's a bit tied up right now, so you're stuck with me. Can you open your eyes?"

Aisha hadn't realized that her eyes were closed. She blinked with effort, heavy eyelids protesting her attempts until she l finally ooked up into the blurry outline of what appeared to be Bigfoot.

"Hey, there ya go. Knew you could do it." Whoever was above her exhaled sharply. "Damn girl, you got yourself nailed pretty good. You're lucky it's just a graze, Aisha."

Aisha said something that sounded like 'don't feel lucky' in her head, but came out sounding a lot more…jumbled. Bigfoot chuckled.

"You've got a hell of a concussion though, huh?" There was the sound of something crinkling and then her head exploded into a burst of pain.

"Sorry about that, gotta keep pressure on. Head wounds bleed like a bitch." A needle slid into her arm and she jumped slightly, doing her best to glare at Bigfoot when she wasn't sure she was actually seeing him.

"Just a painkiller, Aisha. It'll kick in soon."

Aisha grunted, then peeled her eyes open again. This time, Bigfoot more closely resembled a person, one with spiky hair and glasses…

"'sen?" Aisha slurred. Jensen grinned.

"Yeah! Nice job, girl. You're doing great. Now, I don't know how much you're really aware of right now, but we're basically in the middle of a firefight. Your head got grazed, so I'm here to get you to safety, okay? It's gonna hurt, probably a lot, but I know you're a tough broad and you're going to be fine. Okay?"

Aisha gave him a weak thumbs-up. The meds must have started to kick in, because suddenly she wasn't feeling too bad, kind of like she was floating-

Oh shit. The happy feeling disappeared as she was lifted, her head spinning with the change in position as Jensen settled her over his shoulders. He was being pretty gentle, really, but every step he took jostled Aisha's head more, and she found herself battling not to puke.

And then she lost the battle and vomited all over Jensen's shoulder.

"Oh, great, that's great," Jensen mumbled, but he didn't falter at all, and if anything increased his speed. "You owe me a new shirt once we get out of here."

Aisha tried to mumble an apology, and then realized that she must be pretty hurt if she was considering apologizing to Jensen.

"Don't worry about it, I love getting vomited-"

Jensen cut off with a short cry, stumbling before starting forward again, slower this time, but steady. Aisha knew that for some reason, that was not a good thing, but she couldn't quite figure out why and resigned herself to dangling uselessly over Jensen's surprisingly broad shoulders. She heard his voice vaguely saying something, probably into his comm. unit, but she couldn't make out the words.

And then she was falling, though instead of the hard landing she was expecting, she was on top of something, Jensen probably, and he was gasping and shuddering beneath her.

"Jensen," she mumbled, trying to sit up but swaying dizzily. "Jensen!"

He continued to gasp, and then it sounded like choking and her hand was in something warm and sticky and damn her head hurt, but maybe that didn't matter anymore because Jensen was actually dying -

Someone picked her up, and she didn't even have the strength to vomit as the nausea rolled over her. She could hear frantic voices and with her blurred vision, she could see shapes crouched over what must have been Jensen.

"Hang in there, Aisha, hang on," someone said, and she realized after a second that it was that rumbly voice that belonged to Clay.

"Clay," she gasped, an arm flailing. "Jensen!"

"He's going to be okay," Clay said, but Aisha could hear the trembling undertone, even through the haze.

Cougar was saying something in rapid-fire Spanish, and Pooch was bellowing something frantically.

Doesn't sound okay, Aisha tried to say, but she couldn't make it sound right. Clay seemed to understand anyway.

"He's, uh, he's hurt, but we'll get him fixed up. Get you fixed up too. Just relax, Aisha, okay?"

Aisha wanted to tell him to fuck off, that she didn't want to relax when her teammate (and friend?) was bleeding (to death?) so close to her, but then those damn heavy eyelids came back along with a darkness that crept into the edges of her vision, and then she was out.