Title: Endured 

I hobbled down the desolate corridor of an abandoned building, every stride a tormenting battle against pain. Finally, I stumbled upon a room with a weathered door with a bolt lock where we could hide. With a heavy sigh, I slipped inside and lowered myself onto a dilapidated throne of black leather—an old couch with no feet, a chilling relic of comfort despite the desolation.

The taste of blood lingered on my lips and my night vision goggles cast an eerie glow in the dimly lit room. Sargent Thomas 'Tommy' Anderson, battered and bruised, followed soon after, closing the door and locking it, then taking his place beside me on the sofa. 

A grim smirk played on his lips as he surveyed our dire situation. The faint smell of burnt gunpowder and sweat hung in the air, intermingling with the acrid scent of dirt and debris. Across the room, a lonely red lily plant fought for survival on a table in a blue vase, like a symbol of the fragile beauty amidst the relentless violence of war.

"Well, Liz, looks like we've hit a new low," Tommy quipped, his voice dripping with a mix of sarcasm and adrenaline. We'd been ambushed and separated from our team.  During the rain of gunfire we'd made our way deeper into the dilapidated city, just off the coast of the Crimean Peninsula, where we were sent in by helicopter insertion. 

I gritted my teeth, a faint chuckle escaping my lips despite the searing pain radiating through my leg where the gunshot had found its mark. I was still trying to catch my breath. "You always did have a knack for finding the silver lining, Tommy," I managed to spit out.

Tommy pulled up his goggles and sat for a moment in silence, his eyes fixed on the bolted door in front of us, as if waiting for something sinister to emerge. He was the only one who called me Liz. The team usually addressed me as Mitchell, or Private. Not a one called me by my full name, Elizabeth. But Tommy and I, well, we'd been through more than our fair share of gunfights together.

Yet this time, we had underestimated the enemy and paid the price for our arrogance. The mission had gone south faster than the bullets tearing through our flesh. Now, we found ourselves hunted, broken but defiant, and stuck in this dank room with enemies closing in.

"You know," Tommy finally said, his voice low and laced with a touch of bitterness, "I always thought a candlelit dinner would be a more romantic way to spend an evening, but I suppose being chased, shot, then left to die together on an old leather couch has its own charm."

"We're not dying." I countered, making sure the bullet wound on his upper arm was still wrapped tight. My thigh was on fire. I couldn't feel much below the knee but I could still wiggle my toes on command. At least there was that.

"Hey, this could be us one day." Tommy said as he grabbed a small wooden photo frame filled with dirt from the floor. He wiped it down as much as he could before handing it to me, the picture inside depicting two old, wrinkly hands, one placed gently on the other in a timeless embrace. It conveyed a sense of enduring love and shared experiences. A stark contrast to our current bleak surroundings and yet somehow still familiar. 

"You only live once, why does it have to be 'one day'?" I surprised myself by answering. Sure, I liked Tommy, hell I could have been falling in love with him for all I knew, but I was smarter than that. I needed to focus on getting the radio working and getting us out of there, but he was practically saying he wanted to grow old with me, wasn't he?

Tommy was about to reply when he was interrupted by the thunderous roar of an explosion nearby, rattling the room and sending dust cascading from the ceiling. The walls trembled as if in protest. It snapped us both back to reality.

I pulled out the radio from my tactical vest and began to try and fix its broken antenna with some aluminum tape.

"No, let me try," Tommy said with authority as he grabbed the radio from me. He yanked the broken antenna right off the top and pulled a spool of thin wire out of his own tactical vest. He attached it firmly to the radio, handed it back to me and stood up to uncoil the wire and feed it over and out the window.

"Try it now," he instructed. I switched the radio on, hearing static from my earpiece.

A sudden stray bullet ricocheted through the window where Tommy stood. It hit the red lily's vase and blasted it apart, the soil spilled onto the floor. Tommy dove back over to the weathered sofa where we had sat to regroup, but we both knew he could have just given up our location. A few more gun shots hit the side of the building where we hid.

I did not hesitate. "Mayday! Mayday! This is Alpha Team, requesting immediate extraction! We're pinned down at grid reference Alpha Bravo Charlie-7! Heavy enemy fire! Repeat, heavy enemy fire! We need immediate support!"

After a few moments, nothing came back. Tommy grabbed the radio, switched to another frequency and plugged his earpiece in.

"This is Alpha Team, Sergeant Anderson speaking. We're at grid reference Alpha Bravo Charlie-7. We're under heavy fire, requesting immediate extraction! We have wounded and our position is compromised! We need support now!"

The response on the other end crackled back through the static, we both heard the voice respond with a sense of urgency. "Alpha Team, this is HQ. We have your signal. Reinforcements are en route. Hold tight, we'll get you out of there. Hang in there, soldiers!"

I grabbed my rifle, my knuckles turning white as I anticipated another attack. I glanced at Tommy, his eyes reflecting both determination and fear back at me. "We're not going down without a fight," I declared, ready to stand guard.

Tommy nodded, his grip on the radio tightening. "Copy that, HQ. We'll hold the line until reinforcements arrive. Just make it fast!"

He threw the radio down and secured his night vision goggles over his eyes. He looked over at me and smiled. "You only live once, right?" He grabbed his rifle and then pulled me in for a kiss. It was quick and hot, our goggles lightly clinked as they touched. Although flattered, the butterflies would have to wait. There was no telling who might barge through the door at any given moment. We both sat back, aimed and waited.

Then a flurry of gunfire erupted outside as a convoy of armored vehicles roared into the war-torn city streets, their engines growling with unrelenting power, crushing fallen rubble and shattering glass beneath their massive treads. Bullets ricocheted off their armor as the enemies tried to halt the rescue. But the salvage team released its own onslaught of heavy artillery, creating cover for our extraction.

A helicopter emerged from the smoke-filled sky, its powerful rotors slicing through the tumultuous air. The aircraft, painted in muted camouflage colors, hovered just outside the building, a lifeline dangling from its underbelly.

Without hesitation, Tommy and I leaped into the void, our bodies suspended in mid-air for a heart-stopping moment. The rush of wind and the deafening roar of the helicopter engulfed us as we were swiftly hoisted inside, the rescue cable retracting with mechanical precision.

As the helicopter ascended, my gaze drifted downward, capturing a glimpse of the red lily, still standing tall within its broken vase. Smoke billowed from the crumbling buildings, mingling with the haze of battle and yet, in spite of the devastation, its petals defiantly bloomed.