She didn't forget Kiev. Her shoulder still ached when it rained, a bitter reminder of her bleeding out her life's energy all over Yousef's lap, as a Russian sniper kept them pinned down for three days in a long forgotten hunting shack in the middle of nowhere...<br/><br/><br/><em>Mea remembers....<br/><br/>It was a cold, slanting rain, the storm blowing gusts through the chinks in the wooden slat walls. The bullet was still inside her shoulder, and she lapsed in and out of consciousness throughout the night as the blood loss slowly began to sap her strength. The first two nights, she slept on and off, barely conscious enough to drink from her canteen. A fever skyrocketed in her on the third night, and her nightmares were vivid and terrifying. In a brief moment of clarity, when she was sure she was going to die, she woke Yousef by kissing him full on the lips, wanting to not regret ever following through with her attraction to him.  She remembers nothing else from Kiev, waking up three weeks later in a hospital ICU with a tube down her throat and wires extruding from every inch of exposed skin. A life-threatening infection apparently had set in, and the fever forced her into a coma. Her heart stopped twice on the way to the hospital when they finally life-flighted Yousef and herself out, but she somehow managed to hang on.  Yousef saved her life. He kept her warm, kept her from bleeding to death. He kept her sane.</em><br/><br/>When he pulled his hand from beneath hers, she cleared her throat awkwardly, crossing her arms over her chest. Flicking her chin towards the waiting van, she said "Come on. Let's get back to HQ and suit up. We've got a lot of work to do."