AN - Hello, my fellow fans. I have a new summer treat for you, and I hope you like it. This idea has been running around my mind for ages, and I just had to post this, like a promise to my self to finish it later ;) I haven't forgotten about 'There is no Light' and the 'Calling Out' that I've promised you. Remember: all the stuff you read in this story is pure imagination and my take on how it could have happened - it might not be exact and most of the knowledge is from Wikipedia :) I own nothing but the characters you haven't met in the series before. Enjoy, and please leave a review with all the constructive criticism you can think of - I want to do my best for you. /K.

Going Back

Fallujah District, Al Anbar, Iraq, November 2004
Everything was a blur, a haze in the choking dust and the stifling heat of the desert just a few miles to the north. The challenge of the long-distance travel on the mining roads had been the most opportunistic for the entering the city of mosques. More than half of the city's buildings had been destroyed already and a lot of American soldiers had been killed and wounded by the hands of al-Qaeda. Bullets were flying, men were screaming in agony, the few that were still alive. Danny Reagan ducked down low behind the remnants of a clay wall next to a few of his best buddies from his platoon. They had been more than three dozen strong before the attack, but only half a dozen had survived the last half an hour. Danny was ninety-three days into his second tour, based in Camp Baharia, popularly known as Camp Dreamland to him and his fellow marines. Support had been called in from Camp Snake Pit in Ramadi from the west and Camp Thunder, Baghdad International Air Base, seventy clicks east of the platoon's current position. They were pinned down and taking in fire from three sides. This part of the city was a strategic win for their enemies and it had no mercy for any intruders. Far to Danny's right, someone yelled something inexplicable. Only a moment before the hit, Danny realized it had only been a three letter abbreviation. He ducked down lower, covered his head with his arms and felt himself being lifted from the ground by the pressure wave from the RPG. He was carried a few yards away from the wall, flailing in the air and landing on his back, just in time to see the two Vipers fly in from the east. At once the combat helicopters opened fire at their enemies and a few seconds later, Humvees and AAV's joined them, spilling out more marines, whose job it was to locate survivors. Danny, shell-shocked from the RPG rolled onto his side and pushed himself up on his knees and elbows with a great deal of groaning and huffing.
"Over here!" a young man yelled as he saw Danny move. Dust covered his face, streaks of sweat and blood trickled down and he was only grateful to the unknown marine that came to help him up. Danny was almost carried to one of the vehicles by two men, covered by another four. He was nearly thrown into cover just before the exhaustion hit him and he passed out.

A few days later he woke up in a medical tent in Baghdad. A medical officer informed him of his whereabouts and injuries, which consisted of a moderate concussion, a single graze from a bullet on his left arm and naturally the bumps and bruises. Camp Liberty served its purpose until he could travel home on medical leave the next week after recovering. He had been informed, that he was the only survivor of his platoon and one of the many wounded in the war. At that point he was just anxious to go home to Linda, three-year-old Jack and eight-months-old Sean. He was happy to go home, but not exactly rejoicing the next Sunday dinner. Frank was working cases, Mary was sick with cancer, Henry had retired from the force, Joe was four months out of the academy, Erin was almost through law school with Nicky turning eight in a few months and Jamie was still in high school. The past week Danny had been jumpy, easily scared and he couldn't sleep properly, without waking up in the middle of the night, screaming his lungs out.