A/N: Well, this took forever. Quite frankly, I didn't think I'd ever finish it. But after an extended hiatus, it's finally done. Hope you enjoy it.

The warm air hisses between my teeth as I breathe, tiny sand particles lodging in my teeth. I'm standing at the crest of the dune. The desert stretches in every direction, rolling up and down until it finally just blends into a single solid line in the distance. I look back at the still smoldering ruins then out at the desert again. The smoke that had alerted intelligence to its destruction has dissipated, leaving only a thin haze. Despite it, the afternoon sun still beats down, casting my shadow out ahead. It's pointing me onwards, towards my missing unit member. A second shadow looms up, and I glance to the left.

Next to me, Wolf scuffs his boot in the sand and scratches at day-old stubble. He tugs at the uncomfortably sweaty uniform, and squints at the sun-soaked expanse of sand. Of the four men in K-Unit, reunited for this mission, he's the one with the most trouble adapting to the hot desert environment we're working in.

Fox did it easiest. Currently he's crouching at the bottom of the dune, clearing a corpse of the thin layer of sand that has accumulated over it. I trace the corpse's path back up the dune, back to where it wasn't a corpse but a man. A rock catches my attention – or rather, the dull dried substance crowning it.

I half-walk half-slide down until my eyes are level with it. I try to brush away the sand, but it's clumped together and sticky with blood. The mixture coats a good portion of the jagged top, and now the very tips of my fingers. I frown distastefully and wipe it off on my BDUs. Snake walks down to join me, scrutinizing the rock with clinical interest. "That's most likely what killed him." Snake frowns as he looks harder at the dried blood.

A gust of wind stirs up the desert, sand drifting inch by inch across the area. Wolf stumbles down the dune, eyes squinting into the distance. "Any sign of Cub will be long gone by now," he tells us. "Our best chance is a grid search pattern by air. And even then…" Fox stands up from examining the body, grimly nodding in agreement with Wolf's unfinished sentence.

Even then, the chances of finding him alive are unlikely.

"There's only enough blood for one person," I offer weakly. We all know there's more way to die in a desert.

Fox trudges up the hill to where Snake, Wolf and I are standing. "We don't have any air support. Remember, we're technically not here."

I have to make a conscious effort to keep the scowl from my face. While Fox took to covert ops like a fish to water and Snake and Wolf don't seem to mind it, I can't stand the idea. Creeping around isn't why I joined the military. I feel ridiculous for even thinking it, but it just feels dishonest.

"We've only got four ATV's to search for Cub, so we've got to find his most likely path. We'll assume he didn't double back, and started out in a straight line. Since he –" Wolf gestured to the body below – " is the only one we've found outside of the blast radius, we'll assume this way was the only available exit and Cub came out the same way. That still leaves us a substantial amount of terrain to cover. The blast happened about three hours ago. We'll assume he's on foot. Eagle."

I'm always the unit's go-to guy for maths. I do a few quick calculations in my head. On average, it would take a boy his age about 10 minutes to walk a kilometer. But add the fact that he's in a desert with to water and might be injured, that number rises to 12 minutes per kilometer. So that would be 5 kilometers per hour. "That'd give us a search area with a length of fifteen kilometers, if he doesn't stop to rest."

Wolf checks his watch. His neutral scowl takes on a displeased edge. "We don't have enough time to search all that. There's an outcropping of rock ten and a half kilometers –" He eyes the compound behind him, undoubtedly visualizing the map he'd memorized during the plane ride. "That way. We'll rendezvous there. If he's further than that, let's hope he has sense enough to survive on his own."

This plan has a lot of 'ifs' and assumptions, but nobody mentions them; we already know, and there's nothing to fix the problem. It's better to just focus on what can reasonably be done, rather than what we're lacking.

We stomp around the dune to where our four dust-covered ATVs are waiting. "Fox and Eagle, take the outer left and right. Snake, you're on inner left. Keep you eyes open; Cub might not have been the only one to escape." Wolf slips on his goggles and starts up his ATV. They cough to life, and we quickly roar out into the desert. The machines are cumbersome in the sand, and the wind throws everything up into our faces – but it's faster than walking.

Our search pattern is less than adequate. With only four men and such an expansive area, it's mostly a lot of zigzagging over areas and squinting for a misshapen lump in the majority of the area we're never going to be able to properly search. The radio crackles to life, but the ATV is too noisy. I grind to a halt, ignoring the sand that spits out behind the wheels, and turn off the engine. The radio crackles again.

"Repeat," Snake says. "I found him. Cub is down but alive."

Somehow, miraculously, our haphazard search pattern seems to be enough. "Alright," Wolf says on the radio. "Pack him up and meet at the RV. Let's get him home."