Yousef never heard the yell as he continued his repast, one, two, one two. He stopped abruptly though as an old pain in his chest renewed, his hand moved to a small scar just beside his heart.  It was a bullet wound, one from Kiev...<br/><br/><em>They had been moving to rendezvous with a few KGB agents that had intel on a group of fanatics nearby, it was a cold Soviet Morning and both CIA, Interpol, and KGB had declared the area free of hostiles.  They had been merrily tramping through the woods up a hill, unawares that a KGB agent had gone mole, leading them right into a trap.  He had stopped Mea short, grabbing her vest to catch her attention.  "Mea, I love you.  At first, after Pusan, I thought it was just a crush and it would fade.  But after these two years it has only gotten stronger.  You can keep up with me drinking, you can put up with my stupid jokes, and you even fight harder than I do... I just wanted you to know, before I lose the courage to tell you." he had admitted his attraction to her then.  She had turned around and a little smile had started at her lips, that cute playful one she never got, and a wetness had started at her eyes.  For Yousef it was like one of those fantasy romance novel moments.  Then she fell against him, her face changing to one of pain.  Then he felt the pain in his own body, and then came the sound of the rifle shot.  He had fallen back, holding on to her so his body would be her sled as they plummeted down the hill, rocks and sticks and trees tearing at his body instead of hers.  He had managed to help her to a small shack nearby at the base of the hill, radioing for evac immediately, before ripping open her suit to inspect her wound.  It had been bad, dangerously close to her heart.  She had looked up at him the next day, waking for only a few moments, and she said to him, "I think I love you too, Yousef." and they had shared a kiss, one that he would remember for all time, one that was only found in romance novels. Nothing more, nothing less.  Later, when the evac chopper invaded Russian airspace to get them, he remembered waking up to hear her flatline, the medic calling saying she wasn't going to survive and to give her blood to Yousef.  Looking over he saw that they had already begun, the color, what little there was, draining into him.  In a rage Yousef had managed to snatch an Anthropine injector, and using the wound in his chest stabbed his own heart so that he wouldn't have to live without her.  The adrenaline kicked in and his heart nearly lept from his chest, the blood pumping so strongly that it forced its way back through the tubes.  Some of the adrenaline must have made it to her heart as well, because she had a pulse once more.  In the hospital, though, when he went to visit her when she awoke, he did die.  She called him Captain, not Yousef, and she didn't remember a thing after the shot.  Even thinking that there had been two shots.  But Yousef knew, he knew that her blood still mixed with his own.</em><br/><br/>He stood there, staring at the scar in the tiny mirror of the plane's gym.  He had to tell her soon, he would not lose her again.  He just didn't know if she would react the same way as she did before...  Leaning against the wall, using his forehead to hold himself up, he allowed a single tear to fall.  Before rising and grabbing a towel to dry himself with, some deodorant and a slight amount of cologne and he was ready to face the team again, his strength renewed slightly.  Now to get Marcus, the cowboy to back off... without killing him, he had read the file as well, knowing he was a good soldier, but in love and war, all is fair.  With a grimace he walked over and grabbed some finger food, deciding how best to approach him.