<em>He watched in horror as the RPG raced through the window and he was flying through the glass to impact the concrete below.</em><br/><br/>"Nurse, 50cc of adrenaline, two bags!  Now!" he half way saw the commotion about him as his eyes fluttered open, lights swiftly passing by like tracer rounds in the night...<br/><br/><em>Yousef stood on the building next to Gerad, watching the cavalcade slowly pull down the street towards them.  He was waiting for the go code with bated breath, as soon as Gerad took out the first and last driver, he raced down the side of the building on the the rope.  He always felt so cool doing that, he could not help but grin as he noticed Mea doing the same across the street.  He was only one story up when he released the rope and crashed into the cab of a parked car, the roof caving from his massive weight and velocity, his Scar opening up on the emerging men.  He laughed as he strode forward, a simple no hurry gate that easily ate up the distance as he moved towards the target.  He and Mea reached it at the same time, the Van that held the captive priest hostage, and he swung the doors open... to see a man next to the priest with an RPG...  </em><br/><br/>The doctors and nurses moved with the practised precision that came with their profession.  "Watch the arteries.  Swab."<br/><br/><em>The boat that held Gerad captive was speeding away and Mea followed quickly by Yousef watched in helpless frustration as it swung away from the dock.  "Damnit!" she exclaimed and tried to sight in the driver... but they both knew her shots would never make it at this distance, then it swung towards the cliff face they were standing on.  Looking at each other, they had the same idea.  "Yousef, I only have one chute-" he cut her off with a step and a wave of his hand, she probably thought he was going to tell her to just go.  "Parachutes are for girls," he quipped as he dove off the edge, having cliff-dived with Jenny only a couple of months before, he knew that this was a much taller cliff, but he didn't care.  His friend was on that boat and he felt at fault for leaving him unguarded.  The water came up at him fast and he clenched every muscle in his body as he knifed into it, still making an impressive splash anyway.  He knew Mea would follow with her base jumper chute, but he bobbed to the surface and even though it wrenched his arm out of socket, he latched onto the dock rope and held on for dear life, growling in pain as he stood ski-like behind the speeding boat.  It was enough of a distraction for Mea to take the shot and kill the driver and passenger.  Yousef looked like a fool as he slowly slipped back beneath the waves...</em><br/><br/>They moved about the room, doctors and nurses and a few other technician types.  "Well, the shrapnel is mostly gone, but there is still the bullet next to his heart that worries us.  We can't remove it and it doesn't seem to bother him..."<br/><br/><em>He was in a hospital... somewhere in Moscow he knew.  Mea was laying in her bed, they said that the worst had passed and that it was a miracle that his dangerous use of the adrenaline had worked.  And now he sat next to her as she lay in a coma.  He held her hand tenderly as he waited, his eyes red and heavy from lack of sleep.  He was supposed to be in bed himself, but even the tranquilizers were no match for his considerable bulk.  He leaned forward, kissing her forehead... "Ikh hob dikh lib," he whispered into her ear.  He hoped she could hear him, but the doctors said she probably could not. "Ikh hob dikh lib.  Please, come back.  I will never say it again if you don't.  I have never said it to another woman, and I will never say it to any after you.  Please, Mea... Please." The tears flowing freely as he sobbed openly at her side, praying that God would smile on him once again.</em><br/><br/>"Ikh hob dikh lib." he spoke through the pain, his mind trapped somewhere in his memories.  The doctors had no idea where, and the primary surgeon strode outside the room to find the CO of the unit.  "Ah, Major Vanni, I presume.  Well, the worst has passed, and we have him most heavily sedated, but with his metabolism, we are not sure when he will come out of it.  Presumably, much sooner than expected." He gently touched the Major's elbow and spoke in a lower tone. "Major, he keeps repeating the same phrase now that the surgery is over.  We think it is tied to a loved one.  Do you know Yiddish?"  he waited for her answer and spoke. "He keeps saying, ikh hob dikh lib... I love you.  Do you know whom he is speaking too?  We think it would help his recovery if you could get them on the phone, or even here if you can."