Amid all the excitement of subduing the attackers, everyone seemed to have forgotten that there were bodies to bury.  J.D. volunteered to fill in the makeshift gravesite, but he asked his comrades to help him lower the shrouded bodies into the pit -- and not just because they were too heavy for him to lift alone.  He'd seen dead relatives at funerals, but he'd never touched a corpse, much less one belonging to someone he'd been flirting with a little while ago.  And then there was the odor that had started to come off them ... the whole business made his stomach churn.<br/><br/>Having to hold a stranger at gunpoint didn't help him relax, either.  Happy kept the gun aimed at the stranger's chest, as he'd been trained to do, threatening a lethal response to any resistance.  But he held the rifle gingerly, a bit away from his body, as if it was something filthy, crawling with nasty germs that he didn't want to get on him.  His teammates handled their guns and explosives with relative ease, like pragmatic tools, useful equipment for their line of business.  The teenager, however, couldn't help but associate the weapons with the pile of bodies in front of him.<em>'That's what these fucking things are for, goddamit:  making corpses.'</em><br/><br/>Dr. Wilson's reappearance was the one thing in this crazy scene that helped the young man feel a little less uncomfortable.  J.D. naturally gravitated towards Jane as the least intimidating member of the Freedom Force entourage.  He fancied that their mutual interest in scientific fields pointed to deeper similarities in their personalities, maybe something that could be built upon if they ever managed to go beyond a mere professional relationship.  Oh, and how he wanted to get his hands on those tight little buns of hers ... but for now he was content to have somebody around that he felt he could relate to a little easier.  As a fellow civilian, she was far less gung-ho about all the military bullshit than Athena or the late Major.  Plus she was friendlier and more approachable than grim old Oscar.  As for Talpert, J.D. had barely paid him any notice before, since nothing with a Y-chromosome could hold his attention for long.<br/><br/>As soon as the PR man got geared up, however, Happy saw an opportunity to relieve himself of the unwanted guard duty.<strong>"Here ya go, chief.  Keep this pointed on Sancho there and make sure he doesn't cause any trouble.  You can handle that, right?  Sure you can!  Thanks!"</strong>Before Talpert could protest, the bandito's rifle was thrust into his hands and shakily trained on the prisoner, and the pistol and ammo was taken off him.  If he had to be armed, the speedster preferred the M9.  Lighter than the Mexican's gun, it would be less of a drag on his movements, plus it was smaller and easier to ignore.<br/><br/>J.D. then turned to confer with his teammates.  Desperate for a distraction from all the death and carnage, his brain had begun calculating odds and trying to make some sense out of their bizarre circumstances.<strong>"Okay, so ... We're thinking it was these Mexicans that brought down our plane, right?  I mean, how else could they have been waiting here for us?"</strong>Noticing the functional GPS unit, he added,<strong>"And if that thing's working, maybe the bi -- I mean, maybe Janet was wrong about the EMP and the bomb and all that?"</strong><em>'Please god let the crazy bitch be wrong about the EMP and the bomb and all that ...'</em>