The rapid gunfire and clinking of empty shells on the cold, concrete ground drowned out as the two staggered into the closest abandoned building.

It was quiet inside.

Jon had never liked the quiet.

Alejandro propped him against a wall in an empty room, pushing a strained grunt from Jon's lungs as he clutched at the blood-soaked fabrics tied around his waist.

Alejandro pried Jon's hand away, peeking at the wound. "These arent helping."

"God, thanks. I didn't notice." Jon coughed, his head falling back and hitting the wall behind him as he squeezed his eyes shut, jaw clenched. "Hurts like hell when you do that."

Alejandro ties the cloths tighter around Jon's waist.

"Sssshhhit, asshole. It's not a fucking corset." Jon hissed, his hands tightly clenched around the vest on his chest.

Alejandro stood up from his squatting position and walked over to the doorway of the room, scanning the rest of the building. "Quit whining." His gaze stayed trained on the entrance door of the building.

"What is it?"

"Don't know."

"Alejandro."

"I don't have shit on me, Jon."

Jon pulled the pistol from its holster on his belt, tossing it to him.

"You got any more bullets?"

"That's my last mag."

"Then we're in for a hell of a ride."

The words tasted bitter in Alejandro's mouth. Jon was bleeding out, and he'd been informed that the nearest heli's ETA was 28 minutes with an advancing enemy line.

Jon wasn't going to last that long. The thought left an empty pit in their stomachs.

"Alejandro, listen-"

"I'm not leaving."

"Alejandro-"

"No."

Jon huffed in both annoyance and of the shortness of breath he was now going through.

"Alejandro." His tone lowered. "You can't be a hero all the time, man. You're gonna get yourself killed."

Alejandro snapped around, hastily walking over and squatting beside him. "No, we're both waiting it out here until that heli arrives, or so God help me-"

"I'm bleeding out, Al. I can't even stand."

He groaned and made his way back to the doorway. "You have a family to get back to. Alive, Jonathan. Not in a casket."

"And you have a wife at home."

A beat of silence.

"I'm not leaving you for dead."

"You won't leave here alive if you stay, and you know that."

Jon coughed, his body growing limp.

"Even if I did make it to the heli, I wouldn't last long enough to make it back to medical."

The sound of explosions now faintly heard in the building.

"They're pushing us back, Al. You gotta leave."

Alejandro pressed a hand to his temple, his breathing labored as his anxiety grows.

"Jon-"

"I'm dead weight, Al."

The words a mere whisper.

Jonathan. A bright young man, fighting for his every breath in an old, abandonded building while enemy lines draw near. All because of one mistake. One measely bullet caught in his chest. Thats all it took.

Alejandro looks back at him.

"What am I supposed to tell them when you aren't there by the end of all this?"

Jonathan exhales.

"Tell Sergeant M. that he can suck it for giving us a false clear." He dryly chuckles, not an ounce of amusement on his face.

The amount of strength and willpower needed to run head-first into live gunfire.

The sheer will to save lives, stepping into a crumbling balcony in flames.

The lifetime of hurt, leaving your best friend to die a slow death, replaying the different roads that could have been chosen, and the different actions that could have been taken.

A hurt too heavy for words.

A respect too strong to forget.