A/N: See, not all of these will be ficlets! ;)

Standard disclaimers apply.

"No!"

"Hey, hey, Rick? You're okay, man. You're okay. Look, focus on me." Magnum's hands were in front of him, in a placating gesture as he tried to get his friend's attention.

Rick was currently crouched in the corner, his back against the wall, arms up defensively as he shook his head over and over.

Swallowing, Magnum paused and tried to figure out how to get through to his friend. He couldn't just leave Rick trapped in his memories, but he also was kind of short on options. They were trapped in a tiny room, and Rick was getting worse by the minute.

Magnum had seen Rick hit his head in the fight that had ensued before they'd been locked in the shed, and he had been relieved when his friend had finally come to. Before that, Magnum had tried everything he could think of to get them out, but the door was wedged shut tightly and there were no windows to use to escape. The structure was too solidly built for him to try just knocking it over and hoping for the best—and, of course, their phones had been confiscated, so there was no way to call for help.

And now, sweat pouring down his back, Magnum was being forced to watch his friend succumb to what appeared to be terrifying flashbacks. He wasn't even able to put a comforting hand on Rick's shoulders; he'd barely made it three steps before Rick had hollered for him to stay away, and Magnum was worried the other man would hurt himself if he did try to press forward.

"Rick?" he called gently. "Buddy, it's me. It's Thomas."

Rick didn't seem to hear him, wiping the sweat from his brow as he looked around without really seeing anything.

"Listen to me, man; you're fine!" Magnum tried again. "You're okay; you're safe." Well, maybe not exactly, but definitely safer than where Rick's mind seemed to think he was. Magnum figured he could be forgiven for the fib.

In response, Rick pulled his shoulders in and shook his head. "Tom… Thomas? Where… where's T.C.? And Nuzo?" His voice cracked on the questions.

Magnum swallowed and sighed heavily. His friend was still trapped in the past. It seemed escape was their only chance at Rick being okay. Pushing to his feet, he moved back to stand in front of the door, tilting his head to study it. He'd already tried kicking it open, shouldering it open, even tried finding a weakness or loose board he could exploit. But he'd had no success then, and he still had none now; the thing seemed to be one of the strongest sheds ever built.

He glanced back at Rick, desperately trying to think of what else he could do. If they couldn't get out and he couldn't get through to his friend… Magnum sighed again. He'd just have to hope they were found soon, or he wasn't sure what was going to happen.

And then there were noises outside and something wooden scraped against the doors, and Magnum let himself hope the others had found them as he turned toward the sound. They'd be out soon, and Rick could get the help he needed and—

His thoughts of rescue were interrupted as the door swung open to reveal three unfamiliar men.

The one standing at the front smiled menacingly. "The boss has some questions," he announced, just before the other two stepped inside the shed.

Magnum tensed, fully expecting to be dragged through the door, but they stepped past him and headed for Rick.

"No!" Magnum knew it was a very bad idea to go up against these guys, but Rick was in no condition to be questioned about anything. He tried to get between the men and Rick but froze in his tracks when the leader pulled a gun and pointed it directly at his face.

"Don't move."

Desperation tore at Magnum's chest. "No… you don't understand. You can't take him."

"Oh, we understand completely," the man replied. "Your friend here has information we want, and we're going to get it."

Magnum shook his head. "No, please. Take me instead," he pleaded. "I'll tell you whatever you want to know." Another lie, the second one he'd told in less than ten minutes, but this one was definitely worth it.

The man just chuckled. "That's noble of you, but don't worry. Your turn will come soon enough."

"No!" Rick's cry tore through the shed, and Magnum's heart sank.

If Rick was back in the POW camp in his mind, then this was one of the worst things that could be happening. Magnum remembered with sickening clarity the innumerable times one or another of their group had been dragged away by the terrorists who'd captured them, the other friends left in the cell to wonder if they'd ever see him again. Rick's mind was undoubtedly calling back memories of those terrible days, and, as much as Magnum wanted to assure him everything was all right now—as much as he wanted to put on a brave face and pretend it was—it wasn't.

He looked past the gunman to see one of the goons holding Rick's hands behind his back had twisted the prisoner's arm hard, causing his legs to buckle at the strain in his shoulder with the unnatural movement. Rick was struggling valiantly but to no avail.

"Thomas!"

The look on his friend's face was enough to send all of Magnum's self-preservation instincts out the window. The man holding the gun on him had been distracted by Rick's yell, and Magnum took advantage of that break in concentration to rush the guy. If he could just gain control of the weapon, he could—

But the man reacted more quickly than Magnum had expected and punched him in the face with his fist that was still holding the gun. The pain blossomed in along Magnum's cheek as light exploded in his vision, and he collapsed to the floor. He barely caught himself, feeling more than seeing his hands come forward to catch him against the rough wooden boards.

Then a foot connected with his ribs. Fire burst in his side and robbed the breath from his lungs as he groaned and reflexively curled inward on himself.

"Magnum!"

The sound of his name drew Magnum's eyes open past the pain. He tried to surge to his feet, only to crash to the floor again as the man standing over him struck him in the back of the head.

He didn't feel the next kick when it came to his side and flipped him over onto the hard floor, nor the third when the man kicked him in the stomach. He didn't hear as Rick yelled his name again. He didn't see as his friend was shoved through the doorway. He didn't process the sound of something scraping the outside of the shed.

Everything around Magnum had already faded away into darkness.

Rick struggled against the strong hands that held him as he was dragged through a door. This room was just as hot and stifling as where he and Thomas had been held. His surroundings were fading in and out, and he felt like he might vomit, but he knew he had to stay strong. Their captors were just playing another of their games, trying to get information from him, and Rick wouldn't let them win.

Someone twisted his arm harder behind his back, and stars prickled across Rick's vision. He swallowed a groan at the way the wrenching pulled against his shoulder, and his attempts to shift his weight to alleviate the pressure only made things worse.

Then Rick blinked and the metal chair set up in the middle of the room came into focus. He was forced over to it and pushed down. Rick immediately tried to leap up, but one of the men slammed a fist into his jaw and nearly sent him toppling to the floor. Forced back into the seat, Rick blinked dazedly as he felt ropes wrapping around his wrists. When he tried to pull away, he realized he was now bound to the chair, and he only succeeded in earning himself another blow, this one to the side of his face.

"Stay there!" someone yelled at him.

Rick clenched his jaw. Something was wrong with his head, and he wasn't sure what. The man who had just spoken sounded almost American, but that couldn't be right. And even through his blurry vision, it looked like the men were wearing jeans rather than the robes he'd always seen them in. Had they drugged him? They must have. It was the only explanation; it had happened before, although never like this… Whatever it was, it must have been some really good stuff, because Rick could almost swear he was back in the States with the way these men appeared.

But no. Rick shook his head. He couldn't let them get to him. Whatever they tried, he wasn't going to give these guys a single thing.

Another man walked into Rick's line of sight, smiling coldly as he regarded the prisoner. "You have something I want," was all he said in greeting.

Rick just stared straight ahead.

"Ah, so you're a tough guy, hm?"

The question was followed immediately by a blow that snapped his head to the side, and Rick growled through the pain while he gritted his teeth.

A second fist connected with his cheekbone, and he was pretty sure he felt the skin split under the guy's knuckles.

"You are going to tell me exactly what you know about me and how," his interrogator prompted.

Focusing on the far wall, Rick ignored the other man. He braced himself for the next punch that he knew was coming, and, sure enough, it caught him in the side and drove the air from his lungs.

As Rick gasped for breath, one of the men standing hear him grabbed a fistful of his hair and yanked his head up so he was looking right at the man who was questioning him.

"Perhaps you need me to phrase my question more clearly. What do you know about my operation? And who else knows about it?"

Rick swallowed. "The United States… does not… negotiate… with terrorists," he grit out.

Whoever was holding his head pulled it farther back, sending pain waves radiating up and down Rick's spine as his neck was bent at such a sharp angle. His breathing, already rough and labored from the blows to his stomach, was cut off even more, and a strange feeling of vulnerability surged through Rick as his neck was left so exposed.

He strained to see what was happening in front of him, but he could just barely make out the shape of the interrogator as the man moved closer.

And then a hand grasped his throat, drawing a rough gasp from Rick.

"How did you find out about my operation?" the man growled.

Rick's silence did nothing to placate his captors, and, in the next minute, he found himself struggling to even get a wisp of air into his lungs past the hand tightening around his neck.

"You really don't appreciate the severity of your situation." The man sounded angry, really angry, and Rick felt a flash of satisfaction past the darkness closing in on his vision.

He was still struggling to make sense of the whole situation playing out. He could see the concrete floor and bare walls of the room, but nothing was like it should be. The only thing he could think of was that these men were messing with his head, trying to get behind his defenses, trying to find out what the US knew about their operation and movements. For all he knew, they were going to start asking him about his buddies and their camp, and there was no way Rick was giving any of that up.

Just as Rick was sure he was about to pass out from lack of oxygen, the man squeezing his throat stepped back—then backhanded him across the face.

"Tell me who else knows about my operation besides you and your friend!"

"You… you know… this is against the… the Third Geneva Convention, right?" Rick managed to gasp out between gulps.

The blow to his temple sent him reeling, and he felt himself falling sideways. When he landed—hard—it sent shock waves through his right shoulder that reverberated up into his already pounding head, then down through his spine where it merged with fresh pain in his right leg where it had also slammed into the floor. His vision was quickly deteriorating, and the whole room was growing dim and hazy. He saw the vague outline of a shadowy figure towering over him, just before something hard and unforgiving slammed into his stomach.

He retched and choked, gasping for the breath that had so unceremoniously been ripped from his lungs, even as the man kicked him again. This time, Rick felt at least one rib give, and he couldn't hold back the cry of pain that forced its way out even past his ragged breathing.

Then he was hauled back upright, and the left side of the chair was dropped to the floor with a jolt that sent white-hot bolts of agony through his battered body.

As the questions and blows continued, Rick held onto two thoughts: he wouldn't give up his country and he would get back to Thomas.

"Come on, Thomas. You gotta wake up for me, buddy."

Magnum felt a hand on his cheek, and he groaned and tried to swat it away. He just wanted to stay asleep. Why was Rick so insistent on—

Rick!

Magnum's eyes flew open, and he tried to sit up. He immediately regretted the move as it set his head spinning, and he groaned again and dropped back against the floor.

"Thomas?"

Rick, he remembered, and he squinted his eyes back open to take in the man on his left. As his eyes focused, Magnum's heart dropped into his roiling stomach. Rick was a mess. His friend looked like he'd gone ten rounds with a heavyweight boxing champion. There were multiple cuts scattered across his face among the mass of bruising that didn't seem to leave much space untouched.

Seeing his friend's expression, Rick just shook his head. "Don't worry about me. I didn't tell them anything; I swear."

"Rick…" Magnum took a breath, trying to still his churning gut. "Rick, what—"

"Shh, it's okay, Tommy," Rick assured him. He reached over to take Magnum's hand, although the way he winced at the movement wasn't lost on Magnum. "I held out, didn't give up anything on the mission. The base is safe."

That sent Magnum's stomach plummeting again. He had hoped the images of Rick being stuck in the past were just a terrible dream and that he'd wake up to find that they were both safe and sound, but that was clearly not the case. Magnum swallowed and licked at his dry lips. He didn't know what to do, how to get them out of this mess or how to help his friend. He grimaced at the weight of it all and let his eyes drift closed. His head was still killing him, and he could barely think straight.

"Hey, it's okay," Rick said soothingly, clearly misinterpreting Magnum's expression.

Magnum felt a hand laid gently on his forehead, and he grimaced at what he knew Rick intended to be encouraging words that only made things worse, underscoring the fact that his friend was still trapped and that Magnum could do nothing to help him.

"It's okay. We'll get back to T.C. and Nuzo soon enough, and then we can all work on figuring out a way out of here. Just hold on, Tommy, just a little longer."

As the day wore on, Magnum tried his best to get through to Rick, who was growing increasingly sluggish as he tried to keep talking. Magnum had called his name, squeezed his hand, tried to get his friend to snap out of the prolonged, concussion-borne delirium that had him thinking they were still in Afghanistan, but nothing had worked.

Magnum had tried several times to push himself up off the floor, but, between the unbearable heat and the repeated trauma he'd been dealt when Rick had been taken, he never made it more than a few inches before his world started tilting and spinning like crazy. After one attempt, it had been all he could do to turn his head away from Rick before becoming violently ill all over the floor of the shed.

By the time Higgins and T.C. threw open the doors of the shed, their faces a mix of relief and distress, Rick had slipped into a nearly catatonic state, staring at the far wall without really seeing anything.

"Magnum! Rick!" Higgins was kneeling on the ground in an instant, hands hovering over Magnum without actually touching him, as if she wanted to hug him in relief but didn't want to make any injuries worse.

Magnum started to reply but was interrupted by a ragged cough the attempt to speak caused. The heat of the shed had drained him, and his throat felt like it was made of sandpaper.

"Boy are we glad to see you two!" T.C. exclaimed, following right behind her and moving over to Rick's side. "What did they do to you?" he added softly.

At the sound of T.C.'s voice, Rick's gaze jumped over to his friend. "T… T.C.?" he asked in a wavering voice. "You're… you're here."

"Yeah; it's me, brother." T.C. shot Higgins a questioning look. "I'm here."

Swallowing, Magnum tried to speak again. He had to tell the others what was going on with Rick. "He—" Another sudden, gasped breath cut him off, and he wheezed as he tried to steady his breathing. The coughing came in such severity that his vision started fading at the edges as tiny pinpricks of light began crackling across his line of sight.

Higgy put a careful hand on his shoulder. "Shh, shh. Don't try to talk."

But he shook his head. "K… Kor… Korengal," Magnum finally managed to choke out.

T.C.'s expression immediately changed, and Magnum saw his friend take a deep breath. Higgins looked confused for a brief moment, but then understanding washed over her face.

"Hey, you're okay, Rick," T.C. was saying as more voices reached the four in the shed.

The next thing Magnum knew, Higgins was moving aside as two paramedics appeared over him. They were talking to each other, to Higgins, looking down and asking him questions, but Magnum was reeling at the overwhelming rush of stimuli all at once.

He could hear the voices around him, but at a distance, and he blinked up at the ceiling as he tried to focus on something to keep himself grounded.

He felt a touch on his arm, and he slowly glanced down to see a smaller hand holding onto his. His gaze drifted to the right and then slightly upward, and he smiled lazily as he saw Higgy watching him.

She gave him an encouraging smile, and then the world tilted around him as he felt himself being lifted. Higgins stood along with him, staying with him as the paramedics moved out into the bright sunlight that had Magnum squinting against it. She only released his hand when he was loaded into the ambulance—then grabbed it again as soon as she climbed in behind him.

Knowing T.C. wouldn't leave Rick's side was enough for Magnum to finally give into the hazy unconsciousness that beckoned him.

When he next opened his eyes, it was to a cool, dim hospital room. Magnum blinked and slowly dropped his gaze from the ceiling to the light blanket covering his legs. He turned his head tentatively, feeling a low complaint of pain somewhere in the back of his consciousness, and took in the IV line in the back of his hand and the various wires running to machines beside his bed.

There was a gentle rustling then, and Magnum tilted his head toward it

Rick smiled at him as their eyes met. "Hey, T.M. Glad you decided to join us again."

Magnum glanced at the wheelchair his friend was sitting in and then lifted an eyebrow at Rick. "You good?" he asked, noticing with relief that his voice no longer felt like it was stuck in his throat.

"'Oh, what, this?" Rick made a face. "The doc thinks I should stay off my feet for a little while. I'll be back to normal in no time."

Letting out a small sigh of relief, Magnum allowed himself to settle back against the pillows.

Rick cleared his throat, and Magnum looked back to him. "Hey, uh, about back when we were, um, held today…" He trailed off.

"Don't worry about it," Magnum quickly assured him. "You were injured; you weren't thinking clearly."

Nodding, Rick sighed. "I… it just seemed so real, you know? Like we were right back in one of those hot, cramped cells in the Korengal, and I just…" He sighed and ran a hand through his hair, wincing slightly at the movement.

"I know," Magnum whispered.

Before either of them could continue the conversation, there was a knock at the door.

T.C. stuck his head inside. "I hear voices," he exclaimed quietly. "Thomas! You're awake!"

"Apparently." Magnum cracked a grin.

As Higgins and Kumu filed in behind T.C., Magnum glanced at Rick again, and they shared a knowing look. They'd been through a lot together over the years, and this was just another in a long line of shared experiences that hadn't broken them but had just brought them closer together. They were going to be okay.

Fin.