When life gives you Lemons🍋
. . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Disclaimer: The “threat” in this story is made up and I have no determined idea yet what the “threat” is. Everything in this story is as accurate as I could make it, I apologize if some information may not line up.
Special thank you to @kaitaiga for letting me include her Character Damien Whitlock, he belongs to her! Thank you for being one of my first mutuals/friends on this little tumblr journey of mine.
This is was a random side quest of mine, so I hope everyone enjoys! :)
I apologize for any mistakes or typos
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
CPR is currently in process. There’s a guy laying on the side of the road surrounded by first responders. They’re providing prehospital life saving procedures trying to save the victim; a three vehicle MVC accident on the side of the highway, one lane with alternating traffic directed by firefighters. Blaring red, white and blue lights are noticed in the distance and only glow brighter when driving past.
There’s a rhythmic tapping on a leather steering wheel that echoes lightly through a vehicle. Jane’s vehicle. She drives past the scene, taking a glance over at the CPR in progress before looking away to make sure she slowly follows the vehicle in front of her. The familiarity of the sirens, the lights, the suits– everything, strikes her. It doesn’t faze her though, nothing has for about three years since she’s left the service.
'Cause you're a sky, 'cause you're a sky full of stars, I'm gonna give you my heart
Lyrics play through her equipped 4Runner as the scene fades away in her rearview mirror. Jane sings along to the song as she stares at her rearview, a lemon scented Little Trees Air freshener hanging from the mirror matching the lemons on her scrub cap she forgot to take off, seeing the flashing lights blur into the abyss. The resuscitation in progress on the victim reminds Jane of the bountiful amount of times she also performed the life saving ritual. Of course the blood stain on her scrubs from about forty-five minutes ago does the reminding well enough.
Healthcare providers can’t leave the hospital with blood or bodily fluids on their scrubs, OSHA mandates. Jane scrubbed it off the best she could after the code blue she performed in the ER on a flail chest that didn’t make it. It was one of the victims from the MVC pile up. Most prehospital accidents can last hours when lives are at risk.
'Cause you're a sky, 'cause you're a sky full of stars, 'Cause you light up the path
I don't care, go on and tear me apart, I don't care if you do, ooh-ooh, ooh
Jane loves this song, it may in fact just be her favorite song, for a multitude of reasons. She plays it often, nearly everyday on her way back from work to her studio apartment on the outskirts of D.C.. Jane works at Walter Reed Hospital, she’s a Surgical Trauma Physician Assistant, graduated at Howard University in Washington D.C. a few months ago and is already excelling at her job.
The instrumental of the song comes to a stop when an incoming call on her bluetooth interrupts the music. Looking at the screen in the middle of the dash, she sees the Caller I.D., her mother. This is routine for her, getting a call around eight o’clock in the morning from her mother who’s always checking in. Jane answers.
“Hey mom,” Jane speaks in a hoarse voice. Her tired eyes are peering at the neighborhood she’s driving in.
“Good Morning sweetie,” Jane's mother greets, “how was work last night? Did you eat?” She asks, of course she does, always making sure her children are eating even if they've been grown up and out of the house for years.
“Work was fine. I ate my midnight lunch I packed, don’t worry,” That was a lie. Jane is not one to lie but right now she was too exhausted to argue with her mother about not eating. Jane was elbow deep assisting in surgery that she didn’t get the chance to eat her “lunch”. It didn’t matter, she wasn’t hungry anyways.
“Good, you need to keep meat on your bones,” Jane's mother responds, “You made it home yet?”
“Just pulling in now,” Jane replies, parking her vehicle outside an apartment building. As her mother continues to fill Jane in on upcoming events in the family tree, Jane gathers her things from work by throwing her bags over her shoulder, piling her water bottle and supplies into her arms, juggling her keys and phone as she makes her way to the building. Most people are leaving to head to work whereas Jane has already finished her shift.
Jane makes her way up the stairs and to her apartment door since the elevator is broken, unlocking the door with a small struggle with her keys, her mother is still babbling on. Are you coming to your Nephews band concert? or a Family Christmas this year will be on the twenty seventh of December, will you be there? not to mention the classic Are you seeing anyone? Have you gone on any dates recently? With a thud of her stuff falling onto the lounge chair in her studio fumbling inside, Jane lets out a breath.
“Hey mom, I’m sorry but,” she interrupts her mother, resting a hand on her forehead, sliding the lemon scrub cap off, “I’m really tired. Can I call you another time, please?” The phone goes silent for a moment. This is also a routine thing for Jane to do.
“Yeah. Yeah, of course,” Jane's mother responds with a tone that shows her hint of sadness. Why won't her daughter talk to her much anymore? It’s been three years, Jane’s mother thought everything would have gotten better.
“Great,” Jane bites her lip, “I love you mom,”
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
It’s around ten fifteen in the morning now, Jane is drying her damp hair from the shower she took. She needs sleep but, in order to sleep she needs to wash away the night before or else her slumber is restless. As she dries her hair, Jane walks across her studio in comfy shorts and her Howard University crewneck over to the windows near her bed. She adjusts the blackout curtains to block out any light as she prepares for her slumber. Jane peeks out into the yard of the apartment building, a little boy running around catches her eye.
The giggles of him kicking a soccer ball around and it rolls across the grass to a woman he seems to be calling Grandma. The muffled laughs the two share while the Grandma tells him it's time to head to daycare as the little boy drags his backpack. A small smile creeps onto Jane's face, the giggle echoes her mind as a flashback of her own takes over her thoughts. It feels like yesterday Jane was kicking around a soccer ball herself to a little boy. But instead of grass, it was dirt and sand. Instead of going to school, it was going back to work. And instead of a grandson, it was her own son. Amir.
The memory is interrupted by a vibration and musical sound filling the room. Her phone is ringing, playing her favorite song until the phone should be addressed. Jane turns around, letting the curtain fall back into place as she walks over to her phone, assuming it’s her mom, maybe one of her many brothers, possibly even the hospital calling her in. When she picks up her phone and looks at her screen, her expression shifts to a confused look. A Government I.D. number. Recognizing the area code and the location of the caller being “located” in D.C., Jane answers hesitantly.
“Hello?” She answers, resting her phone to her ear.
“Hello, is this Staff Sergeant Jane Pierce?” a gruff male voice responds. The male voice is vaguely familiar, one she hasn’t seen the face to in years. Jane hitches her breath for a second, it’s been three years since her rank has been used and a pit in her stomach forms, she has a good guess at what this phone call is about.
“Yes, this is,” she responds, taking a seat at the edge of her bed. Her stomach now flutters with a nervous feeling that makes her feel nauseous, maybe she should’ve eaten something.
“Good Morning Sergeant Pierce. It’s been a while since we spoke, it’s Briggs,”
Captain Briggs? Jane thought.
“Captain Briggs?” Jane responded. A small chuckle is heard from the other line.
“It’s Major Briggs now,” he kindly corrects. He ranked up which doesn’t come as a shock to Jane, “I am calling on official business. I hope I’m not intruding your work day,”
Jane squeezes her eyes shut. Official business. Dammit. Her heart rate rises slightly.
“No,” she huffs out, “you’re not. I actually just got home. Night shift,”
“Still graduate as a PA or–?”
“Yeah,” she interrupts, “I’m a Physician Assistant now, just as planned,” her voice is steady but she does not want to be having this conversation right now.
“Nice. Congratulations,” Briggs responds, “Pediatrics route I take?” He asks. Last he remembers was Jane finishing some clinical hours at the hospital near the base she was stationed at during her final contracted months. She was planning on going the Pediatrics PA route when she met her son; she wanted to help children. Jane decided to not continue with that route when the memory of Amir became too painful. She still offers her two cents to mothers and their kids when she can or allows herself too.
“No,” Jane spits out before letting out a sigh, “I decided to stick with Emergency Trauma. I work in the OR most days,”
“You were always good when it came to trauma services,” Briggs answers, “A spitfire you were,” Jane pushes out a chuckle in response to seem like she’s interested when really, her stomach was turning. Briggs worked at a military hospital as an Army Trauma Surgeon and Jane often brought her patients into the ER he worked at. Search and Rescue wasn’t always perfect saves, majority of them called for top tier care so, doing her job, Jane and her team brought them in. Her hand off reports were always the best in Briggs’s opinion, he also saw a lot of potential in her.
“Well,” Briggs sighs, “I did mention I called for official business so, let’s get to it,” He clears his throat, smokers lungs. Ironic, a doctor having an addiction to smoking when his whole belief system in medicine is chronically against it. It's his addiction he’s had from his U.S. Special Forces days when he was an 18D, “On official request of the United States Department of Defense, we are giving you a 24 hour reactivation notice,”
Jane throws a hand over her mouth feeling as if she may hurl.
“There’s been a team of our own soldiers and foreign allied soldiers who have gone missing during a field investigation in Turkey, early yesterday morning. There’s reason to believe they may have been attacked,” Briggs begins to explain the situation, “We currently have elite ground forces such as US Pararescue and Foreign Special Forces enroute to Incirlik Air Base to help search for them. We are recalling you to active duty under specific circumstances, such as our need for high-demand military capabilities. You’ve been requested by your Chain of Command to take action, you will be deployed for at least six months,”
There’s a momentary pause.
Jane has too many thoughts running through her mind that it’s causing a throbbing headache. This doesn’t help her feelings.
“If I may ask, why do they need me?” Jane questions.
“Originally for Airport Fire Rescue duty, there’s been more Air Traffic and Military Flights out of Ramstein since the threat rate took a recent increase in attacks happening over here,” Briggs must be stationed over in Europe, Landstuhl to be specific at the military hospital. No surprise to Jane, she’s been stationed over there before when the threat was originally in its uprising state nearly four years ago. That was towards the end of her contract, it’s hard to believe the threat is still in occuring, “But, I wouldn’t put it past your department if you get sent out to a few rescue calls. You know the drill,”
Jane knows the drill in fact a little too well, the scar on her torso is a reminder. Her left leg bounces up and down as she continues to process everything.
“Major Briggs, sir, out of curiosity, why didn’t my CO contact me?” Jane asks, holding her forehead.
“Because I requested to call you,” He admits through the phone, causing Jane to freeze briefly, “I have a proposal for you. I’d like to offer you a job during this activation,”
Jane shakes her head as she grips the phone to her cheek, she never planned on resigning.
“I’m looking for a new partner in the field. Surgeries in tents aren’t appealing to many medical staff members. And out of hospital travelling including clinic bouncing causes many of them to complain. Frankly, I don’t like most of my coworkers, they’re no good. Sissy’s,” Briggs admits, he’s always been a bit of a stoic hardass, “I want you and I want your talent in my OR, Sergeant Pierce,”
Jane clenches her jaw. It's quiet again. What would originally be a six month reactivation deployment would turn into a four year minimum contract. In the quiet, Jane takes a look around her studio, it's been nothing but herself for years. The same routine, the same city and the same grief she continues to carry. But, she doesn’t know if she can do another contract.
“Sergeant Pierce?” Briggs breaks the silence.
“Yeah, I’m still here,” She responds, plotting.
“I know it’s a lot to ask right now. If there’s any way I can get you on my service, I’d be more than willing to negotiate,” He offers. That gives Jane the green light.
“You are asking a lot of me,” She doesn't hold back the truth, “I’ll consider it under a couple of conditions,”
“I want a new rank. I have experience and a Masters Degree, I meet all the requirements for Direct Commission,” Jane stands up but not too quickly, she still feels dizzy. She shuffles her way over to her kitchen to fetch a glass of water, “I also want reimbursement for my remaining college debt,” The military already paid for her undergrad back during her first contract, she knows it's possible to juice it out a little more. Jane grabs a cold bottled water from the half empty fridge, cracks it open, pouring the water into a glass, “and I want a say in my contract,”
The buzzing of the phone is heard through the line, silent on Major Briggs' side. Jane drinks her glass of water half empty before Briggs gives his input.
“I’ll see what I can do,” He knows it’s possible but the reimbursement might be a little bit of a fight he is willing to take. The transfer from the Air Force to the Army should be easy on paper for Jane. Physically, it will be a challenge if Briggs can’t meet her requirements.
“Those are my requests. That or nothing,” Jane makes it clear, she knows the game of the military.
“Like I said, I’ll see what I can do,” Briggs responds, “Until then, you are to report to Dulles International Airport within the next 24 hours, a ticket will be sent to you. Everything you need to know will be emailed to your military account. You’ll land in Frankfurt Airport and you’ll have provided transportation from there to Ramstein,” Briggs explains, “The military TSP’s will move your belongings for you, I’d suggest boxing up any items you don't want them to handle,”
Great. Just Great. Jane thought, running a hand down her face as she leans against her kitchen counter; listening to the ongoing details that seem to blur together as he talks. She tunes her ears back into his instruction.
“Only thing you’ll need to bring to the Airport is your passport, deployment bags and gear too,” he adds, probably reading off the information he’s supposed to tell her from a list of bullet points he wrote down.
“Got it, thank you sir,” She replies, staying polite to her old colleague she never thought she’d hear from again.
“No problem,” Major Briggs says, “Now I’d get moving if I was you,”
“Yes sir,” she says in a near whisper, exhaustion in her eyes.
The phone call comes to an end.
With a long groan and gentle head pound on the kitchen counter, Jane takes in a deep breath. I’ve been through worse, she reminds herself, Way worse. Raising her head and correcting her posture to stand tall, she makes her way over to her closet to unbury her military green bags that are already packed in case of a scenario like this. Setting her phone on the floor, Jane hits her knees and digs at the bottom of her closet.
“Hey Siri,” Jane calls out to her phone to trigger her electronically built in companion, “Call mom,”
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Ramstein Air Base, Ramstein-Miesenbach, Germany
It’s been nearly six days since Jane got the reactivation call. She’s finally getting a moment to lay down in her new barracks room she will be staying in for the next six months. Jane’s work bags are sprawled across the floor as she lay on her stomach in her Airforce Camo OCPs on the small twin size bed cornered in the room. Her new “home” looks a little like her studio back in the U.S.. Air Force perks I suppose. Only thing(s) missing is all her stuff that still has yet to arrive from TSP to make this barracks life feel a bit more comfortable. Jane had to put in a long phone call to her landlord's voicemail about her current situation for the next six months. Jane received a text response in a big blue bubble in her messages about how this was too short of notice on the lease.
It all happened so quickly. Of course, she is used to seeing change happen drastically to others in her life due to work. It only takes a minute for someone’s world to flip. It’s been a while since a big change happened to Jane, a good change to say the least. She is taking a power nap, drooling onto the bed as if she’s sleeping in an on-call room, if her line of work has taught her anything it’s to sleep anytime she can. It also taught her how to wake up when duty calls.
BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP
Tones rapidly went off on her pager.
Jumping up out of bed like instinct Jane reaches for her pager already rushing to get her OCP jacket. She pauses before she reaches the door listening to the information being radioed, Jane is not on shift.
“Damn,” she whispers, realizing her slumber was disrupted and now she won't be able to fall back to sleep. Her day has begun.
Jane reaches for her phone in her pocket to check the time even though she has a watch on. Three seven o’clock in the morning and a missed call from her SNCO Roberts from about 20 minutes ago. ‘Call me back’ a text from his work number reads. She calls him back with a deadpan look on her face and decides to prepare for the day. Jane walks over to her bathroom as the phone rings, setting it down and putting it on speaker.
“Hello,” a male voice answers.
“Hey Serg’,” Jane turns on the water to wash her face, hoping it’ll wake her up more, “I’m just returning your call,”
“Ah, I figured you’d be sleeping,”
“Pager went off, woke me up,” Jane reaches for a towel, the only one she packed, and dries her face, “Shouldn’t you be at the call?”
“It was a 10-22 before the trucks even hit the pavement,” Master Sergeant Roberts explained. Jane lets out a small hum of acknowledgement before reaching for her toothbrush and toothpaste, “I had called to see if you could come in to work,”
“Well, we have had more flights taking off since the Pararescue arrived earlier this week. Foreign Special Forces are still on foot, no word from them since they originally arrived,” Sensitive information that Roberts probably shouldn’t be sharing, Jane doesn’t comment though she only listens. Elite Forces isn’t for the weak and she knows that and much respect for them but that field of work was never intriguing to her. She’s just glad there’s strong enough people to do the job, someone has too.
“We are down a member on the Rescue Squad truck, Private Cook twisted his ankle during a training earlier and he just got back from sick call. He’s out of service. I put him on dispatch,” SNCO Roberts states. Jane is brushing her teeth and bobs her head hearing the story, staring at her reflection in the mirror she realizes she needs to fix her double dutch braids, “We could use a seasoned Rescuer anyways, I’ve got a feeling something’s gonna happen tonight,”
Jane pauses for a moment now getting a tingly feeling in her stomach when Roberts states that. Must be true if she can’t shake the feeling either. She spits into the sink and rinses her mouth before finding a hair brush.
“I’ll be in before 0415,” Jane replies, “I need to find myself a coffee,”
“I appreciate it, Pierce,” Roberts says, “See ya,”
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
It’s been a quiet day at the station on Ramstein Base but from the whispers through military members, Landstuhl has had a busy day at the hospital. Three MEDEVAC arrivals found injured soldiers from the team that went missing during the Field investigation a week ago, Elite Forces are doing a job well done; the common question that rings is What happened and what caused the team to split?
Jane sways side to side as she sits on an office chair in the lounge room keeping score of an intense Ping-Pong match between two Airmen, one leg propped up on the seat with her thigh resting against the armrest. The rest of the Department is gathered around as they stare intensely at the game while exchanging comments, chants and taking up bets with one another. The only other female on the Department watches, standing behind Jane's chair resting her hands on the leather back.
“This is ridiculous,” She says, chuckling.
“Everything we do is,” Jane responds, biting on the end of her pen with a sharing chuckle.
A loud cheer echoes through the room when the match comes to an end with Senior Airmen Davis, also known as “Sock”, hitting the plastic ping-pong ball into the small net across the table. Sergeant Garcia is hyped up by the one half of the department that was cheering for him as he tosses his paddle onto the table with a raging victory cry.
“Eat my win Davis!” Garcia laughs as members pat his back and cackle with him. Some members groan in defeat while Davis rests his hands on his knees in defeat, “Read the score Pierce!” Garcia requests beaming.
“Fifteen to Seventeen, Garcia wins by two,” Jane announces in an appropriate indoor voice.
“That’s right baby!” Garcia claps his hands together pridefully, feeling his ego rise, “Nobody beats me!”
While money is exchanged from the bets and the men continue to laugh, Jane rolls her eyes playfully at the amount of testosterone taking over in the room. Garcia sees it.
“What are you rolling your eyes for?’ He questions with a smile. A few others are still joining in, “I think I earned a batch of your famous brownies,” He teases.
“I feel like I’m ten years old again back home with my brothers, listening to you men,” Jane replies.
Jane nods in response. Garcia looks at the female behind Jane's chair with a smirk, the female pushes the office chair Jane sits in, towards Garcia. Jane rolls across the floor towards Garcia before he takes the armrest and spins her a few times, pushing her off towards Sock.
“Ah!” Jane laughs a little, it feels good to laugh, “Stop, this has to be a form of harassment! Article ninety-one!” She jokes before Sock takes a hold of the back of her chair, pushing her down the hall, running. Her chair flies to the others and she puts her hands up in surrender, cackling with the members of the department before the moment halts with voice.
“Sergeant Pierce,” Master Sergeant Roberts calls out right outside his office door from the hall, “My office please,” He spins on his heel, disappearing into his office. The department goes back to playing another match of ping-pong as Jane makes her way down the hall to his office.
Jane enters the room with the door remaining open due to rules. Jane takes a seat in a chair in front of the desk that Roberts sits behind. That tingly feeling in her stomach from earlier crawls its way back into her gut.
“My prediction was correct,” Roberts begins the conversation, “Something big has occurred,”
“What happened, sir?” Jane asks.
“A distress signal in Ihlara Valley over in Turkey, about three hours from Incirlik Air Base,” Roberts explains, “Incirlik Air Base Department is responding and Landstuhl MEDEVAC team is preparing to take the Med chopper to take-off once they arrive here,”
“A Pararescue. There is reason to believe their team has been compromised or possibly attacked. Foreign Special Forces have also been informed on their rescue mission, to warn them and keep an eye and a ear out if they find anything, ”
A brief moment of eye contact is exchanged between them. More information that Jane believes anyone in her position isn’t usually aware of.
“Major Briggs has requested you take the MEDEVAC there,” Roberts informs.
Jane's eyes widen and her heart stops for a brief breath.
“Me?” She questions, “Why me?”
“You performed an excellent amount of rescues three and a half years ago when the threat made its first debut,” Roberts leans forward and rests his arms on the desk, “Briggs says you know the scene, the routine, what to expect and how to handle it well,”
“What?” Jane huffs out in disbelief. She’s always considered herself to just be an average service member, what she did years ago towards the end of her first contract was her doing her job. And she did it with the help of her team at the time. Anyone would’ve done that same thing in her position, right?
“He wants you there, he already told his connections in Incirlik you’d be joining them,” Master Sergeant Roberts pushes himself off his desk, leaning back in his chair, “I’m not arguing with a United States Army Major. Now go get your rescue gear off the rig, MEDEVAC team could be here any minute,”
Jane shakes her head barely, as she slowly rises from her chair, turning on her heel and heads to the door. She stops in the doorway when Roberts calls out to her once more.
Jane turns her head half way to show a listening ear.
“Best of luck,” he consoles.
“Thank you,” Jane responds, turning her head forward and disappearing out of his sight as she makes her way to the Bay.
Wish this was a 10-22 she thought.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Ihlara Valley, Güzelyurt District, Aksaray Province, Turkey.
Flight time was slightly over fours and the MEDEVAC Blackhawk from Ramstein Air Base finally landed on a stable ground fifteen minutes after the team evacuated the helicopter via hover and hoist. Jane is on scene in Ihlara Valley adjusting her tactical rope rescue gear as she follows Major Briggs, who confidently approaches a group of standing military personnel. No lights flashing or sirens blaring in sight; not even a single set up light fixture for better viewing of the area, nothing. What is noticeable are military vehicles and responding units lined up almost like a barricaded wall, all turned off. Jane recognizes this immediately, a Blackout.
“What’s it looking like Lieutenant?” Briggs asks the gentleman who seems to be overviewing blueprints and laptop screens at table set ups alongside the trucks.
“Team has located the distress signal in the canyon near the east side,” Air Force Airfield Operations officer from the ATC, 1st. Lieutenant Michaels turns to face Briggs, “we have been receiving inconclusive communication activity as well, from near the crash scene. I have someone trying to transcribe it as we speak, an update has yet to be given,” Lieutenant Michaels begins walking alongside Major Briggs as they approach a group of men in camo uniforms, preparing their gear, Jane follows behind.
“Turkish Rescue forces are preparing for Covert Operation, entering in on the south side of the canyon. The Pararescue that sent the distress signal warned of an enemy attack, we’ve been running under the radar best we can,” Michaels glances at Briggs, “SERE team closed down all entrances to the tourist attraction earlier, the public doesn’t need to know about this. Not until we know what really happened down there,”
“Good to hear,” Briggs nods once, this brings back the familiarity of his Special Forces days many years ago, “Any proof of life since?”
“Other than the inconclusive activity, no sign sir,”
The two Officers watch Turkish Gendarmerie Search and Rescue Battalion Command (JAK) men readying their tactical rope equipment for hoisting into the canyon. They are given the ‘go’ by their officer in charge and make their way to the south side of the canyon by foot, disappearing into the dark of the night. Jane watches a few steps behind Briggs as she breathes in slow deep breaths through her nose, it's a little chilly this time of night in July here and it sends shivers down her spine. Major Briggs turns to face her.
“Once there is proof of life, I’ll send you in first,” he starts to explain, “My MEDEVAC team will be on standby of course,”
“I’m going in alone? What about the two-in, two-out rule, sir?” She challenges his plan. Sure, she’s gone into rescues alone before but not without a team or another individual close by, operating the equipment and communicating with her. There’s rules set in place for a reason.
“Lieutenant Michaels has the SERE team working with his men to prepare you for the best entry route, SERE team will fall in behind you, following,” Briggs motions back to the table set ups by the trucks where groups of military personnel are working, “British SAS have found the remaining field investigation team members over an hour ago and are currently occupied in their rescue mission elsewhere in Turkey,”
The way he words it sounds almost like Jane is bait or some sort of sacrifice. As much as she could argue that more elite forces should be handling the situation instead of her, she can’t. She signed the contract years ago and she took an oath. Jane also knows Briggs has her going in first because although more prepared teams and military forces have worked in and trained for the combat, she is heavily experienced in just the rescue.
“Understood,” Jane replies. A small considerate look across Major Briggs’s face speaks a thousand words of trust to Jane. She has no idea how her hand off reports in the ER to him had somehow managed to develop into a heavy rescue mission not meant for the “average” soldier. Heads turn towards a female soldier who is providing an update to Lieutenant Michaels who seems to be processing the information. With a step towards Briggs and Pierce, Lt. Michaels delivers news.
“The transcription of the inconclusive communication activity reveals there are alive soldiers down there but in critical condition. J.A.K just made it to Delta side undisturbed, their equipment is to drop in within the minute,” Lt. Michaels folds his hands behind his back and gives Major Briggs and Jane a nod, “SERE Captain has determined an entry route, Alpha side. You’re clear to go,”
Major Briggs nods in acknowledgment to Michaels as the Lieutenant walks back towards his men. Briggs looks back to Jane and pats her shoulder twice as he takes the first step to walking over to the SERE team.
“Welcome back Soot,” He smiles. In three words, Jane’s past that she had laid to rest years ago, had resurrected.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
“Can you hear me?” Lt. Michaels says into a communication mic at the table set up, with his crew and Briggs at his side.
Jane lures herself down the inner side of the one hundred fifty meter deep canyon, her night vision goggles attached to the front of her tactical rope rescue helmet are in place of use to allow herself to see. Her comms piece is placed in her left ear, something she doesn’t use often since she is far too familiar with her pager, which she also brought.
“Crystal,” she whispers. Jane can’t risk giving up her location or presence in the valley so she moves as quietly as she can. The bag slung over her shoulder, the clinking of the carabiners on her gear, to the rubber of her gloves causing friction on the rope and the SIG Sauer M17 strapped to her thigh that she was forced to bring down, every motion she makes is delicate.
Jane gazes down to see her progress, she is now hovering nearly six feet from solid ground. Securing her placement to hang in the air from her harness, she fastens the rope supporting her weight and begins to move the bag on her back off her shoulders into one hand.
“I’m about six feet from solid ground,” She whispers into her comms, “checking now,”. Jane lightly sways the bag back and forth before slowly dropping it down along the side of the canyon. A rustle is heard when the bag hits the ground, there must be a few bushes or sand she thinks. “Ground is solid, possible brush, nothing threatening,”
“Copy that,” Lt. responds in her ear, “Clear to make ground contact,”
Jane lowers herself about another three feet before securing her tactical rope rescue equipment, dangling in the air as she prepares herself for ground contact. She pivots her night vision goggles up and away from her face, moving her hand to the nightstick on the side of her helmet to turn it on. Before her finger even puts pressure on the switch, a beam of light hits her, followed along with a demanding voice.
Without hesitation, Jane puts her hands up and blinks her widened eyes trying to find a body to the voice. Her flight or fight kicks in.
“I’m Jane Pierce! Staff Sergeant of the United States Air Force! Performing Search and Rescue Operation!” She spits her words out so fast that her mind can’t keep up, “Mac_Cheeselover30!”
My email password? Really? She lets out a disappointed breath the moment her mind has caught up. Great, I’ll have to change that if I survive.
Grunts and frustrated muffles are heard from the man holding a HK USP Tactical gun and the flashlight he turns off as he takes a few steps closer, realizing Jane is not a threat. Jane scans the man as she hangs in the air, hovering the ground while Lt. Michaels is shouting in her ear.
The man lowers his gun but immediately puts a finger to his mouth, shushing her to remain quiet.
“Shhh,” he says, motioning his hand rapidly so she’ll come down, “I’m not going to hurt you. I can’t risk revealing my whereabouts. Sorry for the startle,” he whispers the apology in what Jane is making out to be an Australian accent. With a confused and curious mind, she detaches herself from her tactical ropes with the click of a carabiner and lands on her feet. Jane reaches for the bag she had dropped, finally responding to the crew above.
“Made contact with another soldier,” Jane whispers to Lt. Michaels through her comms before peering at the man in front of her. He's a tall man in camo ocps and a mullet, scanning the area with a focused look on his face and she notices blood soaking his cut pant leg on his calf. He’s injured but she doesn’t see any noticeable signs or symptoms that it’s threatening to his life. Jane takes note of the flag on his uniform, “Australian soldier,” She adds.
That catches his attention. He makes eye contact with Jane in the darkness, using only the light of the moon to try and make out the environment around him. The flashlight is only used when needed, it is clear the man has been stripped of some of his gear.
“Who are you communicating with?” He asks.
“Air Traffic Control and SERE Officers,” Jane responds, “SERE team will be following behind shortly,” She looks to where her tactical equipment is hanging from before turning back to him, “I’m sorry. Who are you?”
“Damien,” The Australian answers, “Sergeant Damien Whitlock, Second Commando Regiment. I was with the Pararescue team on the chopper that crashed, well, was attacked.” He tilts his head slightly, clearing his throat as quietly as he can, “I’ve been trying to get in contact with any reinforcements but there’s a threat on our tail and my comms was damaged in the crash. Along with a few other things,” He mutters.
“You were the inconclusive message?” Jane unzips a pocket in her bag grabbing out a pair of night vision binoculars and extending them out to Damien.
“I didn’t think it reached,” He responds, taking the binoculars from Jane’s gesture, “We need to move,” he begins making his way back towards where he originally came, at a fast pace.
“The message transcribed that there were more survivors?” Jane presses following him. She’s here to rescue and if he’s the only alive victim from the crash then there’s no need to keep walking. Damien is quiet for a moment, as he leads the way in a precise way from what she can tell it must be from years of experience.
“Only me and one other survived,” He explains.
“And where’s the other one?”
“He was injured badly. Tried to help him with any salvageable supplies but, the chopper wasn’t safe anymore with the threat after us,” Damien adds, wincing a little at the injury on his calf, “I carried him out and found some dwellings suitable to hide him in until I could get help,”
“You should let me take a look at it,” Jane offers, still following the shadow of a man in front of her due to the darkness, “It’s a miracle you survived that crash but, you could have some serious internal injuries–”
Jane furrows her brows, she is only trying to help. Lt. Michaels is informing her through the comms that the SERE team followed after her and is making contact with the ground.
“10-4’” She whispers into her comms.
“SH!” Damien repeats again. Jane shares an irritated look that the Australian more than likely cannot see in the dark. Jane remains quiet for a moment as Damien presses his back to a large rock formation nearby, motioning to Jane to crouch down. She crouches down close to the brush and pivots her night vision goggles from her helmet down to see what Whitlock is doing; Jane watches him slowly pull out a combat knife from his belt. A brief pause of movements as the crickets chirping echoes in the canyon. A man in black rounds the corner and Damien strikes.
The Second Commando Regiment Sergeant plunges the knife into the torso of the man in black three times. Damien twists the man by the arm so his chest is now pressed to the threats back, putting him in a headlock, muffling the man's cry with his other hand. The man in black shows signs of losing his consciousness from what Jane makes out in her goggles, before seeing another shadow-like figure approaching from behind.
“Watch your six!” She calls out to Damien. The arm that he is using to muffle the screams of the enemy, reaches for his gun in his tattered holster and shoots the other man behind him in the collarbone before that shadow could strike. He releases the now unconscious man from his grip and attacks the other man with his knife. Once both victims are on the ground, he puts them out of their misery, finally looking back over to Jane, catching his breath.
“Good eye,” He implies with a nod and a small smirk, “Thanks,”
Jane rises from her squatting position, raising her goggles once more and walks towards Damien who is already on the move again. The two journey through the valley until they arrive at the dwellings where the fatally injured Pararescue man is. Damien turns on his flashlight to find his way around the dwelling to lead Jane to him. Once he finds the soldier laying on the floor he rushes over to him kneeling down.
“Over here!” He calls out to Jane who is immediately racing to the Pararescue man’s side, “I stripped him of his gear and wrapped the injuries I could. His breath sounds are diminished and he’s got a flail chest,” Damien informs Jane as she tosses her helmet off to the side and removes her tactical gloves to replace them with latex gloves.
“Are you a Special Forces medic?” She questions, snapping on the gloves and proceeds to cut the Pararescue's shirt down the middle with her trauma scissors. Damien grips the flashlight as steadily as he can, providing Jane with light to work.
“No,” Damien responds, tucking his lips into a flat line, “.....was really close with one,” He answers. Jane makes eye contact with Damien for a brief moment when he shares that. Even in the dim light, she can read his emotion and the grief that is carried behind his blue eyes. A similar grief she carries in hers.
Once the Airman's chest is exposed to Jane's eye, she watches the man struggle to breathe for only a minor second to go over everything in her mind of actions that she can do to improve his state. She begins to comfort him for a moment, noticing the terror that is painted across the man's face.
“Hey hey, I’m going to help you. Do you see me scared? No. If I’m not frightened, you don't need to be either,” Jane reassures him, kindly, “I got you,”
His breathing becomes a near gurgle, fear yet hope in his eyes as he chokes on blood he has now coughed up in his mouth. Reaching for her stethoscope and bundled up cloth in the side pocket of the bag with one hand and feeling his ribs with the other, she stays calm, she’s used to this type of chaos.
“Lt. Michaels, inform Major Briggs that a field Thoracostomy will be performed. MEDEVAC will need to prepare transport care upon our arrival,” Jane speaks into her comms. She then takes the Pararescue’s arm closest to her and moves it up to rest behind his head, making a triangle with it.
“Sergeant, I need you to dig into the large pocket of the bag and grab out the ziploc labeled thoracostomy,” She tells Damien. Jane turns the Pararescue’s body onto his side, at a forty-five degree angle so the fluid can drain from his mouth and so she can get a closer look at his ribs.
“Sir, I know it hurts to speak but what I’m about to do is going to relieve you of that. It’s going to hurt so I’m placing this gag in your mouth,” Jane explains, the wounded man's eyes filling with some fear that is trained to be hidden deep. Jane sees past that, “I know, I know, it’s just to keep you quiet. I’m so sorry, this will all be over soon,” Her voice soothes him as she places the bundled cloth in his mouth to bite down on.
Damien quickly rustles through the bag by reaching with his free hand over the wounded soldier's body and pulls out a few smaller bags until he finds the correctly labeled one.
“Got it!” He announces. Jane's comms communication is now continuously barking in her left ear and right now she needs to focus. She’s trusting Briggs will have her back on this one.
“Good. Now, inside the bag there should be three more labeled ones, numbered. We don’t have much time so we are going to have to skip a few steps. Grab the ChloraPrep Swabstick from bag one, it looks like a large Q-tip,” Jane instructs calmly, using two gloved index fingers to feel between the man's lower ribs. Damien dumps out the supplies in the first bag, sweeping through the pile until he finds a large looking Q-tip. He hands it to Jane.
“Perfect,” She opens the small packet and starts to wipe down the area she deemed fit for the procedure on his ribs, “In the second bag we are gonna use each item. I need the scalpel,”
Damien dumps out the second bag of materials and snatches the disposable scalpel handing it to her.
“Crikey, what are you a surgeon?” Damien is slightly bewildered, average field medics don't have the proper authorization to perform procedures like this. There are certain levels of military medical professions in place for a reason just like it would be on the civilian side.
“Something like that,” she responds casually, as she makes an inch long incision in the space between two ribs. The man’s screams are muffled, “Forceps,” Jane doesn’t take her eyes off the blood oozing cut as she waits for Whitlock to hand her the desired tools. Once they’re placed in her hand she immediately bluntly dissects the tissues in the incision down to the pleural space, creating a pathway for her next item.
“I need you to hand me the chest tube and the one-way valve, please,”
Jane inserts the chest tube through the incision and guides it forcefully but gently into the pleural space, ensuring that the tube's openings are within the pleural space. She next takes the one way valve as she attaches it to the open end of the tube sticking out from the man's chest, holding the base of the tube insertion as tight as she can with her other hand.
“I need the prepped suture kit,” Jane makes eye contact with Damien briefly, as she waits to receive the needle and silk suture thread, “Take my comms device and make contact with Lt. Michaels, my patient will need to be evacuated as soon as these stitches are complete,” she ensures as Damien reaches for the piece in her ear and plucks it out. Damien stands up tall, still holding the flashlight for Jane so she can suture, and he addresses the comms.
The sutures are not as beautiful as the ones she does in the OR but she sees them working when the Pararescue exhales and bloodied fluid seeps into the one way valve. She secures another stitch as the relief on the man's face is noticed, the chest tube is working. The man spits out the gag and starts taking in longer and deeper paced breaths.
“Thank you,” He weakly expresses, “you saved my life,”
“We both did,” Jane responds, acknowledging Damiens heroic action to carry the man to a safer zone and find help.
“Looks like the men who have attacked us have been caught by SERE and J.A.K, they’ll be handling them appropriately,” Damien interrupts, “Scene has been declared safe for MEDEVAC to enter,” He peers down at the Pararescue, taking a knee, “looks like you’re going home,” A sympathetic smile plasters across Damiens face.
The wounded soldier tears up a little, he just survived a crash that killed all the members on his team he’s been working with for years. His battle brothers. He clenches his jaw out of physical and emotional pain before choking out a laugh. Coping.
“Looks like? I look like shit man,”
“Aw mate, don’t say that! You’re a beaut!” The Australian light heartedly responds with a warm tease.
“I hate you,” The Pararescue sarcastically tells Whitlock, shaking his head with a gurgled chuckle. Damien joins him in chuckling, they both have survived the crash like a golden horseshoe had been stuck up their behinds. Unfortunately, the threat is still out there, a few less men on their side but still out there. And it’s only going to get worse, it always does.
Jane places the last stitch and checks the blood in the valve as she places a seal down to restrain the tube from moving. She takes a listen to the man's lungs with her stethoscope.
“Alright, let’s get you up and moving,” She tells the Pararescue, shoving the excess supplies into her bag before flinging it over her shoulder, “Quicker we get you to the MEDEVAC team, the better,” She implies.
Damien and Jane make their way out of the dwellings acting as crutches for the Pararescue man who is taking the agony like a champ. The morning twilight allows for them to see into the valley better with a naked eye, a purple hue casting over the canyon with stars in the sky. It’s not a long distance before the MEDEVAC team is seen rushing over to their sides, immediately getting the wounded man into a steady rescue basket.
Off to the side, Jane takes in the overcast of the purple hue in the sky that blankets the canyon, stars still twinkling in the sky in their last hour before morning will arrive. Moments like these always bring a calm to Jane, she recognizes that somehow in all the torture, evil and pain in the world, beauty will still make it’s way into the day. She carries infinite memories of times like this, especially in the months she met her son, Amir. Showing him things he hadn’t experienced that became his favorites, like the music Jane listens to on her way back from work, the brownies she baked in her spare time and the chapters of her most prized book. She embraces the moment.
“You alright?” A voice snaps Jane out of reminiscing. She turns her head now getting a more clear picture of the Australian man, Damien, near her.
“Yeah,” Jane responds, adjusting the bag, beginning to follow the MEDEVAC team towards the exit route they have prepared, “I just like a sky full of stars,”
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Landstuhl Regional Medical Center, Landstuhl, Germany
Major Briggs had assessed the chest tube on the Pararescue in the MEDEVAC Blackhawk when it was on its way back to Landstuhl. Upon arrival with an OR prepped and ready waiting, Briggs insisted Jane scrub into the General Thoracotomy surgery and so she did.
Walking down the hall in the trauma wing of the hospital, Jane is in hospital scrubs and her scrub cap as she overviews some paperwork she is delivering to the nurses station. A few short words exchanged between her and some medical staff at the station, she sees the Pararescue man being wheeled back into a room for recovery across the hall from the desk. She turns her body, standing as she watches a nurse tend to the man’s care and taking in the sight.
It all happened so fast, she thought it always does.
She feels a presence approach her nearby, standing next to her.
“Taking in your work?” Briggs stands tall with his arms crossed, now wearing scrubs too.
“Our work,” Jane corrects him.
“Some would argue,” Briggs clears his throat, a chronic side effect of his smoking, “His family has been informed and his spouse will be landing in Germany tomorrow. The CNO’s are taking care of informing the other families about their loved ones,”
It’s never a good day if a Casualty Notification Officer in uniform shows up on someone's doorstep. Jane mourns those who died in the crash and she balances it with the grace of knowing the two who did survive.
“What about Sergeant Whitlock?” Jane questions. Major Briggs motions his head towards another room alongside the rest of the others, Jane peers over her shoulder to look. Damien is sitting on an E.R. cot in nothing but his Camo OCP pants with one pant leg rolled up, his wounded calf is bandaged. He carries an exhausted expression on his face as a nurse checks his lung sounds across his bruised torso, which must be from the crash. Damien still manages to give a smile in gratitude to the healthcare professionals.
Damn. I have to change my email password, Pierce internally reminds herself. Hopefully he forgot it.
“Glad he’s getting treated,” Jane looks back to Briggs, “Why was a 2nd Commando on that flight anyways?”
“Classified,” Briggs starts, tapping his finger on his arm, “but you know how Special Forces work. They’re always doing side quests,” A half smile is present on the Army Major’s face, he must be remembering his own Special Forces days. Jane doesn’t know what that’s like but she shrugs off any pondering thoughts on the subject and puts her attention back to the Pararescue man laying in his recovery room.
“You did a great job,” Briggs tells her, “saved that man's life,”
“I was just doing my job sir,” Jane responds. Briggs lets out a hum in response, staring at the same scene she is.
“You don’t do it for the thrill though,” Briggs adds his input, “Anyone has the guts to do the job but, not everyone has the heart too,”
Pierce then turns her head to face Briggs, taking in the words he expressed. She stays quiet as she looks at her colleague who is still staring at the Pararescue. Briggs turns his head to make eye contact with her, unfolding his crossed arms to reveal an envelope that he’s been holding. He holds it out between two fingers to Jane as she takes it with a small look of confusion on her face. She opens the envelope to reveal a check that Major Briggs definitely pulled some strings and argued for.
“Let me know if it’s enough to cover your remaining debt,” He tells her, “Contract is yours to decide, Captain,”
Jane's eyes widen as she stares at the inked number on the check before looking up to her Major. Briggs did it. All three requests.
“Thank you, sir,” She exhales with accomplishment written on her face. Briggs gives a nod in response, bouncing on his heels slightly.
“I do have one request from you,” He bobs his head a little, “more of a question,”
“Why the lemons?” Briggs shares a curious glance at the scrub cap Jane is wearing on her head. An item he’s never seen Jane wear before until now; she started wearing it when she began working in-hospital nearly three years ago.
A smile grows across Jane's face as a vivid child’s giggle rings in her ear from memory. Her son’s. Lemon’s were harvested and commonly eaten in the region where she worked when she first met Amir. The fruity scent burns in her memory while she remembers the silly faces made with the lemon peels and the scrunched up noses from the sour flavors. How the vibrant yellow color would excite her son as he would point and say, “Look, your favorite color!” tugging on the hem of her scrub top.
The grief that Jane carries will always linger but she doesn’t mind. It holds her hand in a similar way Amir used to hold hers, gentle and comforting. Jane seeks to be kind in everything she sees, because in everything she sees, she sees him.
Jane shrugs with a smirk on her face, winking at her new boss.
“Just the best fruit life has to offer,”
titsay
stormborns
kaledo-art
gummygunk
blakekathryn
jacobvanloon
snowghoul
janainaart
origamiaround
baratheonpilled
