Apologies for a bit of a delay in this chapter. College makes it so my writing cannot come first (as I suppose it should), but I wanted to get this up! GAH, before I continue, HOW GOOD WAS THAT FINALE? I literally was so tense and scared the entire time! I won't spoil it for anyone who may not be caught up yet, but it was SO GOOD. I need season two, as I'm sure everyone else feels, too!

Anyway, this is a shorter chapter, one that leaves off with a Dean Georgaris-like cliffhanger (ahem, good sir), and then we'll switch gears a bit. I make no promises for anyone's safety. Hehe.

*Peace, love, and Jaz*

He didn't get very far without seeing a blood trail—probably about a half a mile away. McGuire's senses went into overdrive and his guilt started to set in—was this Preach's blood? Should he have went looking for him immediately after finding Hannah? What if he was too late? He pushed the thoughts away, knowing at this point the what ifs would kill him before any guilt could, and followed the trail to a secluded rocky area, much better hidden than where he and Hannah were holed up.

"Took you long enough," came the deep voice that sent relief flooding his body.

"Preach." He immediately grabbed the pack that was slung over his back, running the short distance to where the eldest man on the team had taken cover. He had a nasty laceration on his forehead, and was littered with various sized shrapnel wounds that looked equally painful.

He then noticed a body not too far away from them.

Preach's tired eyes lulled that way. "Tried to sneak up on me. He's the only one I've seen so far. There may be a sniper. I've heard gunfire but could only work the direction to the mountains. It's since been nothing but radio silence. It's too quiet."

"Hiding out until it was safe or the team found us?"

"I was about to come looking for you and Ms. Rivera."

"Let me check out your injuries, man. Let's not make this any worse for us."

"Nothing seems too serious," Preach said calmly. McG stopped, studying him. He was acting a bit strangely, as if he had a concussion. It would make sense, the Humvee blew up—from the way the lacerations and shrapnel were scattered on him, he was probably thrown. "You're studying me."

"I think you've got a concussion, brother."

Preach shrugged. "Probably."

He inspected rest of the wounds, none of them too deep, but all probably littered with infection. He didn't have any antibiotics in his pack, at least not enough to really start treatment. So he handed Preach a couple pain medications, which he brushed off, and offered his hand. The two got up, and McG didn't miss the large man waver. They needed to get out of this shithole, and soon. They all needed a medical treatment facility.

"You have your mic?"

"No. I think it was taken."

"Taken?"

He hadn't considered that. They all were unconscious at one point or another, and it would make sense if the insurgents took them—but why leave them alive? Why not just finish them off then and there? A terrifying thought overcame him—Preach was right; it was too quiet. They had their mics. Whoever ambushed them had the ability to hear their team coming. He could only hope the team would realize they were compromised and was finding another way. If not, they were being led into what he thought Preach already realized was a timed ambush.

"We need to get back to Hannah," McG said, helping Preach walk. The elder man was not too proud to admit that one of the shrapnel wounds in his leg was particularly aggravating, so they took it slow. It left McG with his thoughts again, and the fear that as soon as they were all together, all hell was going to break loose.

The silence followed.

He tried to understand what they were walking into. Would they attack as soon as they were out in the open? Why did they leave the weapons with them? Then again, if they had a sniper, they could be taken out before any of them got their weapons raised. He didn't have a family other than his mother. Preach had three kids, a wife to get home to. He didn't know what Hannah's family life was like—but he imagined better than his. His mother would never understand when she got that message.

He knew it would destroy her—last she knew he was Delta. Somehow though, she still believed he was merely a medic, never as in danger as his fellow soldiers. This in part was her own ignorance. The medic goes into the field with everyone else. The other part was his fault—he shouldn't have kept her as in the dark as he did. He couldn't admit to her what they were doing now, but he should've talked to his mother about his early deployments, and the struggles he had with them. Maybe the baggage would be a little lighter.

"You're quiet."

"Just trying to not get us killed."

Preach rolled his eyes in the dim light. "Talk to me, McGuire. I'm not some civilian who doesn't understand."

He stole a glance at the man's face. He had that all-knowing look on, the one he often had when he knew he was right. It usually drove him nuts, but now he just marveled in it. How the hell was that man so intuitive? He tried to play it off, scoffing, but the former SEAL just held his gaze. "I'm fine. It's a lot to process. You got any words of wisdom for that?"

"I am not a walking quote machine."

"Could've fooled all of us," he joked.

Preach smirked, "We are in a very hard profession, McG. There are not many who understand what we go through. You can't bottle it up. Eventually each time you do, something shakes that bottle. And one day, the pressure inside will force it to explode."

There was Preach. He sighed, "Another time, Preach. Hannah's in bad shape."

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the man made a face his direction, but thankfully he didn't press the issue further. Somehow, the walk back to where he left the DIA analyst seemed longer and harder, but that could be credited to he was supporting half the weight of a larger man. By the time they made it back, Hannah somehow seemed paler and her eyes glassy.

"Hey," he whispered, and he didn't miss the concern on Preach's face. He took watch for them as McG looked at her injuries over again, knowing without an operating room and the proper tools they really couldn't do much else. Time was running out and they had no idea if help was coming for them any time soon—if they were compromised or if the others were too.

As if fate knew it was needed, Jaz's voice came from the darkness. Quiet but clear, she stated, "Top, Amir over here. Multiple injuries. We need an EVAC and we need it now."

She came over, gun raised and McG never was more relieved to see the sniper before him. She nodded his direction, glancing down at Hannah with sharp eyes. Jaz was careful not to show emotion, especially not when there were others around them. He knew this. After her capture, all he had seen was anger and determination, which wasn't necessarily a bad thing, but there had to be other emotions underneath. Realistically, he knew from his own head that trauma was different for each person, and probably more difficult for a woman whose spot on the team could be more easily compromised because of her gender. Still, having known Jaz long enough, he could see the concern there, and she knelt down next to Hannah, who greeted her with a shaky smile.

Amir and Top came running from the darkness, Top immediately coming to Jaz's side with Jaz. It left McG, Preach, and Amir standing guard, Amir's expression the most open, which did not surprise him either. He was always less hardened then the rest of them, more open with his entire personality. He used to think it would get all of them killed, especially when he first joined the team and replaced Elijah, but he'd come to see it as an asset.

"What happened? You guys went dark."

"Good question," he murmured, feeling haziness start to slip back into his head. He forgot he was probably concussed, too. With the adrenaline pumping before, it helped him focus. His team meant he was no longer alone, which eased his nerves.

"MEDEVAC 10 minutes out," Jaz stated, interrupting his reply.

Then, he added, "We were ambushed. Preach thinks they stripped us."

Amir was on the oddity of it immediately. "And left your guns?"

McG stepped forward, to get a better look at Hannah. "That's the weird—" As he said this, he heard something familiar and then there was immense pain and finally total darkness.