Warring : violence, character death, murder, bad word, sorta.

Next day was as painful as the day before. August got a map from their camp. It was not marked of course, for fucking security's sake, but Emma managed to remember where the lieutenant pointed when he ordered her to send a coded letter.

"How far it is?" Killian asked.

"It's 25 miles. If I correct," Emma replied. Her feet were practically burning in such long work.

"Holy shit," August heaved.

So they walked, and walked, and walked. They had breakfast and lunch with chocolate-bar that they got from the remained of their camp, and kept walking. This goddamn woods, forest, and mountains. Emma hated all of it. It was 17:00. Right 24 hours ago they were laughing and joking to each other. It felt like a formal life.

"Oof," Killian stumbled on a root. Since they were walking with dragging feet, so they kept tripping over something every five minutes. But they couldn't help their body. It was a miracle that they could still walk.

"Bloody hell," Killian muttered. When you walk for straight twelve hours with a rifle and bullets and stuff that feel like tons of iron, you couldn't in your usual playful mood anymore.

"I'm sorry, Jones," Emma blurted. "If I haven't keep you from return, you might not suffer like this.." Her lips wobbled.

"Nah, Love, Don't be silly. If you didn't, I'm damn well lying on the ground in dead now. You saved my life." Killian waved his hand. Emma had tried to imagine what it feel like if she had to cut off her own finger, and every time the mere thought made her shuddered.

Dr. Whale joined in, "You must not blame yourself, Swan. It was not your fault." It was the first time he opened his mouth after the appalling search for survivors in corpses. "Sometimes things just happen. We can't help it."

"Yeah," Emma sniffed.

Seconds after, Killian tried to light mood. "Hey, See the good part of it. This can be the chance to you. You know, if you tell your friends that you just sat on the table and dealt with the paper craps all the time, it won't sound quite heroic. huh?"

Emma managed to let out a chuckle. "Yeah, I think that'll sound pretty funny."

"Bloody right. If you want to be a deputy as once you said, you have to become a man or have a goddamnly awesome bullet scar or two."

"Uw, Can I avoid the painful part? That seemed fucking hurt."

"Help her, Doc," August said, "You can make a fake scar on her body, right?"

Dr. Whale nodded. "Yeah, I've seen plenty of bullet wounds, I'm sure I can imitate well." Then he added, deadpan. "All you have to do is just take off your clothes and lay down on my desk- Ouch, Okay, just show me your breast. It's final offer- Uw! That's really hurt, Swan!"

They laughed. It was small and kinda forced, but it felt damn good. God knew that they needed to be refreshed. "What will you do when you get home? I'm gonna eat all the cheeseburger in USA."

"I'm gonna go to the strip club. I mean, straightly."

"Oh God, here we are. Talking about strip club and naked girls with boobs, again. Booth, change the subject, plez."

"Don't know. I- think I'd go to church in my town. One of my mutual friends is a nun."

"A nun? Fuck, Geez!"

"Gross, seriously!"

"What? It's not like that, it's just innocent friend visit!"

"Yeah, in twisted, dirty, ugly way of. Love, don't you think It was much better when we're talking about lovely ladies in tiny clothes? I mean- Ohhff!"

This time Killian actually fell down. Emma reached out her hand as laughing, and leaned over when he moaned. "Jeez, are you hu-?"

In a flash, Killian grabbed her hand and yanked it, and, when Emma tripped on him, something brushed her hair and passed away. A cold, hard, and small thing that made all the hair of her neck stood up at second.

Before Emma could even say what the fuck, Killian covered her mouth with his hand which is remaining only three fingers after the fight with Chinese, and then she felt the moisture on it.

It was blood.

"Hey wh,hu-h-"

Dr. Whale finished up his word with a faint gasp, and collapsed over her. He made a gruff sound, it sounded very much unlike him, and jerked twice, let out a shaky breath an then relaxed his body, fully.

Ah, the feeling of your friend's blood streamed down your back while his dead body was limp on you.

Emma went very, very still.

"No, love. Don't scream." Killian whispered. "It's sniper. He is using the soundproof."

August had walked ahead of them so it took minutes to him turn around.

"Um? Why don't you- Fuck!"

It sounded he shot, too, judging by the falling sound. To Emma's utter relieve, there was more.

"Fuck! Ew- shit!"

"He's alive. He's moving behind the tree to hide." Killian noted as noticing her anxiety. His breath was rapid and he sounded uneasy. Emma stared at him in the eyes, captured in terror.

"Listen to me Love, listen." He swallowed. "They will be here soon. It's not a mistake that they shot Booth by the leg. They purposely shot his leg because they want to hear some information from him. They'll come here to take him, and that'll be your chance. Do you understand?"

Emma tried to shake her head. She really didn't know what was going on. But she couldn't move even a finger under the feeling of blood dripping down her body.

"No no, Don't move. Pretend you're shot. Can you do that? Good. Good girl. You're always good girl. I'm sorry sometimes I acted like asshole. I didn't mean it, you know?" Killian said apologetic. "Don't cry."

Emma squeezed tears out of her eyes so that she could look at her friend closely. His face was pale. Too pale, in fact. And he started making sound; like he had a problem of breathing. "Stop talking, Jones." She pleaded.

"No no, I'm okay." He swallowed and smiled. He always had a great smile. "You're gonna kick the bloody Soviets' ass and save me, right? I'm gonna move in hospital and I'll complain about everything all the time until I'll return to home. You ask what I do when I return, Hm? Strip club is not my real answer. I'll straight go home. My bloody old, dirty, and small home that I love the most. Not much manly, huh?"

At somewhere August asked that someone was alive. They didn't answer.

"You know how to use a gun. Have you ever shot someone?" He was obviously panting now, Emma didn't like that at all.

"N-no. I mean, Dad and I used to have deer hunting in fall but I never shot people."

"That's okay. It's not that different. Straighten your arm and take good aim before pull the trigger. Can you do that?"

"I don't think I can do that, Jones." Where were all confidence when she need the most? The red spot on his chest went far too bigger than she like. "Stop talking please.." more tears coming out.

"Of course you can. Swan, I know you can." Killian ignored her plead. "Love, do you want to know what made me cut off my fingers? Hmm? I've noticed your glance on my hand. Yep, too handsome to take off eyes, that's me." He huffed a weak chuckle. Emma didn't know how Killian made a joke in this situation. "I cut my bloody awesome fingers to save myself. Nothing is special, yeah. Are you disappointed? Sorry. That was live-or-dead, Love. Kill or be killed. And I was very much willing to live with lack of fingers, Emma."

He never called her first name before. Emma thought she'd like it very much if it was louder. He sounded barely audible now. "Go on, girl. Save yourself and be the fucking bad-ass sheriff. And bloody hell please make up with your mom. For me, 'kay? Good, they're coming here. Be ready.." and then he closed his eyes and went silent.

All her sensation exploded. The world was getting narrow and compacted while spread and expanded. She couldn't listen anything but the pounding heart on her throat, at the same time heard everything. Sandwiched between her dead boys, having Dr. Whale's warm blood on her back and Killian's on her hand, Emma waited.

She didn't need to wait long. Soon there were footsteps getting closer, it sounded more than one man. Perhaps two? At most three. They were talking to each other, their feet was light and careless. Be triumphant in victory, already? Fuck you.

Someone barked out in strange language, and Emma heard something before August said he was unarmed. Footsteps were getting closer to them more. Now she knew it was three men. One of them was approaching to her while the others headed toward August. Emma hold her breath in prepare.

The tip of rifle rummaged Dr. Whale's body for a while before touched her head. It was not cold, unexpectedly, it was very hot. Probably shooting bullets heated it.

"что это такое?" The Soviets sounded surprised. Emma panicked briefly, before realized that it was her hair. Which was too long for a soldier, who should be a man. Usually well pinned and tugged behind the head her long golden curls were now pulled out from its bun and covered her face like the curtain. Her helmet had flied somewhere when she fell down on Killian. The man said something, and tried to push her hair aside with the rifle.

See, you can easily avoid the bullet when the gun is close enough. What an irony. A tiny move can help you out from the aim.

The moment the dead point of the rifle moved from her skull, Emma whirled around and punched the rifle aside with her left hand, making the man lose his balance by the sudden blow, and her right hand pulled the trigger of the handgun.

The gun fire sounded like it could tear the night.

The Soviets opened his mouth, and suddenly a red river appeared from his eyes and streamed down to his right cheek. Some blood spattered her face, it was fucking hot like hell.

Emma didn't waste a single moment to do next. Instead she sat up quickly as the man collapsed on the ground. The rest of Soviets were about to turn at her. Straightened your arms, Emma did as once her Dad said, somehow it sounded Killian's voice, made sure the target get in the aim. She pointed the gun at the man near August. It was too bad for him that the sniper rifle was far too big and heavy to react instantly. Emma could see the panic and terror in his figure as he struggled to lift the rifle, and before she could think further, shot him. Three times, just in case. The man jerked by each shot, and then made a faint sound as fell down. The blood started pouring hysterically.

She just killed two men. Emma was kinda astonished how not-freak-out she was. It didn't felt real, in fact, at all. What she could think was; hey, look. I'm doing pretty well here. Killian could proud of her. Except he couldn't, because he was dead now, of course.

Feeling like in an awfully realistic dream, she turn to the last man. He seemed freezing dead on his spot in shock. Emma let out a dry laugh, and pulled the trigger. Say to the world Good bye, dumb-ass.

As a result of being half-out of her mind, Emma couldn't catch up quickly when the trigger didn't move over half. She tried two times more, even made "Um?" sound, then the realization hit her.

It stuck.

Fuck the armament factory and fuck the army and August Booth who gave her a fucking defective gun!

The man noticed it, of course. He fumbled around his belt with shaking hand and started struggling to untie his holster.

Was it because this was her end that the whole thing stared passing so slowly? Adrenalin ran over her. Pushing the dead men body aside, Emma stood up and sprinted to the man. Hoping she wasn't directly rushing at her dead, Emma jumped toward the man just in time when he managed to grab his gun and about to lift it.

Gun fire pierced her left ear. They fell down on the ground and rolled over together, yanking and pulling his holding the gun. The man kicked her shin and punched her stomach with elbow. Emma yelped, but didn't give up and repaid such kind treatments by biting his hand, hard. Thank you very much you son of a-

He screamed in agony, and released the grip.

Later, Emma thought it was such a huge fucking mistake but then, she wanted to know like hell who the fuck just killed his friends. Emma stood up with the gun in her hand, kicked his head, making the helmet flying, and surprised when he turned his bloody face. Well, her face.

Her hair was short, black, and falling over her face like veil, Lips full and eyes really dark just like the night sky above their head. It was sparkling in fear and malice and hundreds other feelings. Emma felt herself sucked in those eyes.

"Can you speak English?" Emma said between panting, already regretting not killing this woman at first sight. What was she doing? This woman killed her friends just minutes ago! Shoot her! Kill her!

Emma didn't shot her, tough she barked out, outraged, "Fuck, I'm asking you! Can you speak English!" August was hurt in the leg. He couldn't walk without help. He needed help. They needed help.

"да," The woman said, her voice was low and deep. The Union of Soviet Socialist Republic's notorious hammer and sickle was shining on the collar of dark uniform. "I mean, Yes."

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