A/N: Thank you for the great reviews! I love you all! Hope you enjoy this one, too!

I still don't own them for some strange reason…

Chapter 17

Brandt's hand was shaking when he placed it on Benji's neck, trying to find any sign of a heartbeat. He couldn't. Maybe it was because his hands were shaking too much, maybe because his own heart was pounding in his ears too loudly. Maybe because there simply wasn't any.

Not wanting to accept his worst fear as a fact, he bowed down, giving his friend some air. Trying to breathe life back into him. And inwardly wincing at how cold he felt. He pressed on his chest and regretted it at once as he felt that some of the former technician's ribs were fractured. He could only do more harm.

Brandt swallowed a lump in his throat which was threatening to get out as a sob. Come on Benji, please don't do this. Don't go. Just come back. Just don't give up. He would have said all that out loud but he couldn't lose any more of Benji's time. The time Benji might have already lost. But he couldn't stop. It would mean that he, William Brandt, had given up despite begging Benji not to. And that would be hypocritical of him.

His vision was getting blurry and darkened. He didn't realize he had been crying for quite a while. The dark spots he now saw, however, were not the tears. His own blood loss, the fatigue and the fact that he was giving the air to his friend instead of breathing normally all combined and started slowly dragging him into darkness. He rubbed his eyes again. He knew that the mere unconsciousness for him meant certain death for Benji.

He sensed some movement nearby but didn't dare to react as all of his attention was focused on his friend's breathless form. He thought he saw something. And heard. He bowed down, unable to be certain about anything. And he heard the most beautiful sound in the world. Benji was breathing. Rapidly and shallowly. But it was something. Brandt was so relieved that he started to actually wonder whether he was delusional. A cough from somewhere next to him shook him up.

"Should close his eyes," a weak voice sounded and the former analyst finally managed to lock his eyes on the man kneeling by his side.

"He's not dead," Brandt wanted it to sound protective but he was too weak and those words came out as a feeble whisper. Mike outstretched his hand and ran it over the tech's face, shutting his eyes gently.

"There. So they won't… get… dry…" his voice wrecked, and it took Brandt a short glance to see why. A thin trail of blood was trickling down Mike's chin and he was pressing his hand to his chest.

The analyst wanted to react, to say something, but his strength left him. He felt he was falling as the darkness around him was getting thicker. He didn't remember how he actually fell down. For a few seconds all he could hear was Benji's erratic breathing which was unbelievably comforting despite everything. Until it got weaker. And then stopped again. Brandt's brain was racing. His last thought was that maybe he just couldn't hear it, that maybe he was on some stage of unconsciousness when you still can think but can't receive any information or something like that… But then several sets of footsteps broke the silence. And who were those people? Brandt felt panic go through him like electric current but he didn't have an opportunity to do anything as the darkness finally fell on him and everything disappeared.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Slowly the surroundings came into William Brandt's view. Dull hospital. He wondered how many times their missions ended up with him waking up at some hospital.

"Hey," Jane looked absolutely exhausted and her face was wet with tears but the smile she gave him was warm and welcoming.

"Hey," Brandt breathed out. He shut his eyes for a moment and frowned upon hearing another voice.

"So, Mr. Brandt," William opened his eyes and saw a doctor standing by his bed. When had he had the time to walk in?... "You've been lucky. You have a minor concussion. You might experience weakness and dizziness due to the blood loss from your arm, but I'm happy to inform you that it hasn't been severely damaged. It seems like the bullet had gone through and through, only bursting some blood vessels. Now you should get some rest after your traumatic experience".

As the man left, the former analyst tried to make sense out what was happening. His arm… the bullet… Benji!

That thought made Brandt jolt upright in his bed with his heart seemingly somewhere in his throat. He turned his gaze to Jane who now looked slightly worried at the outburst.

"Benji," he simply said. The female agent's face began to crumple. "Where is he?"

"Look, Brandt…"

"Just tell me," William's eyes were welling up. This didn't promise anything good.

"He's here, too," Carter finally forced, and her friend allowed himself a relieved sigh. "Ethan is with him. He can't breathe on his own, Brandt. His lungs were damaged very badly by that gas, and now he's on machines…"

Brandt swallowed hard. He knew Jane would probably regret telling him all this later but now it was obvious that she, too, was scared.

"Will he be alright?" that sounded much quieter than intended but Jane heard it anyway.

"They say the damage can heal," Brandt could practically hear the hope in his friend's voice. "But they don't know how long he had been with no oxygen so there is no way of finding out whether there is any damage to his brain unless he wakes up".

William managed a little nod and let his head fall back onto the pillow.

"There was one more person with us," it was almost a murmur. "His name's Mike…"

Jane nodded.

"Some beatings. One of his fractured ribs punctured his lung. The doctors say he'll be alright though. Who is he, anyway?"

"A friend," Brandt muttered, feeling his eyelids go heavy as he drifted into sleep.