Blur. It was all a blur.<br/><br/>She was clutching Yousef, scrabbling, nails tearing at the thick biosuit material.  White walls, flourescent lights making him pasty under his summer tan.<br/><br/>Screaming shrilly, strong hands clamped at her, tore at her, but she held fast, hysterical tears splashed the confused, angry faces around her as she shook the grabbing hands off like an angry dog.<br/><br/>"LET ME GO! YOUSEF!  YOUSEF!"<br/><br/>He had gone flatline twice in the van.  Blood. There was blood everywhere. The gurney was soaked, sheets smeared in crimson handprints.<br/><br/>Finally, enough hands caught her, and something sharp pricked her arm.  "YOUSEF! YOUSEF!"  She heard Gabe, somewhere in the din "Mea! For God's sake, Mea, let him go, the doctor has to-...!" She kicked, punch, bit, but there were too many hands.<br/><br/>"YOUSEF! NOOO!!!"<br/><br/>Then black.<br/><br/>********************************<br/><br/><em>Their Mi-17 was smoldering wreckage six miles due west of their location. Mid winter, below freezing, they were half-buried in the icy sand, night vision goggles casting the entire scene in fuzzy gray tones.  The footsteps of the tangos were muted by the sand but sheer adrenaline pricked her ears, sharpening them enough to hear the ragged, frightful breath of the fifteen men that patrolled just below their ridge.<br/><br/>She glanced over at Gerad, whose still body gave away no hint at the tenseness that no doubt lay just under the surface. Several rapid hand motions, and he nodded, swinging his rifle over onto his back. He crawled away silently, Mea watching him until he vanished around a dune.<br/><br/>Tank was staring at the camp below them with an expression of keen delight. <br/><br/>Exactly three minutes later, the first pop of sniper fire made them both jump.<br/><br/>One of the swarthy men fell, a dark blotch on his forehead. His compadres panicked, snatching up guns, shouting commands.<br/><br/>Another pop. Another. Two men landed quietly in the sand, their Kalashnikovs tumbling into the dunes.<br/><br/>Tank was like a dog at the end of his chain, ready to burst free with righteous fury if allowed loose.  There were still too many, she held up her hand, expressionless.<br/><br/>Three more men fell, she closed her hand and they both exploded from the sand, ready...</em><br/><br/><br/>**************************<br/><br/>She woke with a start, then groaned up at the ceiling. They had tranq'ed her. Fucking pricks.<br/><br/>She had been bathed, and her biosuit was folded neatly and the rest of her gear was organized on the table just out of reach from her bed. She stood up, the icy floor making her flinch.<br/><br/>A nurse immediately poked her head in, smiling pleasantly. "Good afternoon, Major Vanni. How are you feeling?"<br/><br/>"Where's my team?" The nurses' smile faded at the abrupt military tone, her hard expression.  "Ahem. They're all going to be fine. Gabriel and Gerad are both out getting lunch at the moment. Can I get you something to eat?"<br/><br/>"Where's my team?" She repeated. The nurse nodded slowly.  "All right, come on, then."<br/><br/>As soon as the turned the corner out of her room, Marcus's smiling face was the first thing she saw. "Mea!.."  He was bandaged from heat to foot, and looked like someone had done a job on him with a nightstick. There wasn't many places where he wasn't bruised.<br/><br/>"Marcus!"  She rapidly closed the distance between them, went to embrace him, then stopped mid-hug. "Ah...uh...right. Sorry."  She stepped back, clapping him gently on his shoulder.  "So, did they have to replace your entire body with cybernetics?"