Oh, and I don't want to die for you

But if dyin's asked of me

I'll bear that cross with honor

'Cause freedom don't come free

- Toby Keith, "American Soldier"

Tallahassee, Florida

Rachel

Alex and I rushed to a park bench, and I slid to answer the call, holding my iPhone in front of my face.

"Dale?" I asked urgently.

The screen was black for a few moments, but then when it focused, I could see that he was injured – a bandage around his head, bruises on his face, and what looked like a sling around his neck. "Rach – Rachel?" he said, the connection scratchy.

"Yes, Dale, oh my God... you're all right," I breathed in relief.

He nodded. "All things considered, I'm good," he agreed. "I had to get in touch with you; Miles and I had an agreement before we left that if anything happened to either one of us, we'd get in touch with the other's significant other."

I nodded, tears filling my eyes. "I'm so glad you're okay... Dale, what's going on? What happened to Miles?"

He looked around, his eyes darting left and right before he leaned in closer to whatever device he was using. "I don't know anything for sure, Rachel, but... I think he's been taken hostage."

I heard Alex's sharp inhalation next to me, and his arm slid around my shoulders. Ordinarily, I probably would've pushed him away, but I couldn't move.

"Hos – hostage? Are – are you kidding?" I asked, knowing damn good and well he wasn't.

Because who the hell would joke about that?

"Rachel, I don't know for sure, but my gut is telling me that something is very wrong. I've been hearing whisperings around the infirmary. But I promise you, they'll do everything they can do find them, and when they do, they'll get him back," he said, so quietly that I could hardly hear him.

The tears spilled onto my cheeks, my body beginning to quake.

"Dale – " I started, but he shook his head.

"I have to go; this wasn't a planned call, so they were doing me a favor. I promise, I'll Skype again if I hear anything at all, okay?"

I nodded, and the call disconnected. My phone slipped from my hand onto the grass, and when Alex tightened his arms around my shoulders, I didn't protest.

I just wept.

Panama City Beach, Florida

Luke

Knowing that my brother was out lost in the desert somewhere did nothing for my work ethic. All I did all day was sit at my desk and stare out the large window at the gulf.

I had been sitting for the third hour straight, a pen in my hand, writing nothing, when my dad knocked on the open door.

"Hey son," he said, tilting his head to the side. "You all right?"

I sighed, spinning to face him in my chair. "Not really, no. All I can think about is Miles."

He nodded and sat in the wingback chair across from my desk, stretching his legs in front of him. "Me too. I have so much to do, but I can't seem to concentrate. I just feel so damn helpless, you know? Like, I'm his father. I'm supposed to be able to save him."

I got up and sat in the chair next to my dad, patting him on the shoulder. "I know what you mean... but we can't save him. We just..." I sighed. "We have to put faith in the military to find him and bring him home."

Dad looked at me and nodded. "You're wise, Lucas." He stood up suddenly. "Let's go get some lunch, hm? Get out of the office."

I stood and grabbed my wallet off the desk. "Sounds good," I agreed.

***

Lunch with my dad made us both feel a little bit better, but as soon as he dropped me off back at the penthouse, I started feeling down again.

But that was only until Brooke got home with Lily.

Seeing Brooke hold our daughter must've been the most beautiful sight in the entire world.

"Hey, babe," she said brightly, handing me Lily as she took her shoes off.

"My girls," I cooed, kissing Lily's sleeping face.

"Did you have a good day?" Brooke asked as she took her blazer off and draped it over one of the tall bar stools.

"Eh, I didn't get much done," I said, looking up at her. "All I could think about all day was Miles."

"I know what you mean. Have you talked to Rachel?"

"Not since last night when she texted us to give us the update from Dale."

"Yeah, listen," she started, "I was doing some research today on POWs. I know we always hear 'The United States does not negotiate with terrorists,' but it seems like when it comes to the life of a soldier, they will. If he really has been taken hostage, I actually believe they'll do everything in their power to get him back."

"Well, that's good to know. But I'm hoping Dale is wrong and Miles will just wander back up to camp with that big goofy grin on his face, telling an overdramatic story about how he took a wrong turn and got completely lost," I said, my laughter clouded by sudden tears.

"Oh, Luke," Brooke said, walking over and sitting next to me, taking Lily from my arms and putting her down in the pack-n-play next to the sofa.

"I just can't even comprehend this, Brooke. How could this happen to Miles?"

She moved against the arm of the couch and wrapped her arms around me, pulling me between her legs, my back against her chest. I lay my head back on her shoulder and she pressed her cheek to the side of my head. "They're gonna find him, Luke. I know they are," she whispered.

A tear slid onto my cheek and down my neck. "I hope so," I whispered. "I spent most of my life without him, and I really don't want to go back to life before him."

"I know, baby," she cooed. "They're going to find him."

I really, really hoped she was right.

Fallujah, Iraq

Miles

"Wake up, filthy American," a harsh voice was calling, and I was being shoved against the wall.

"What – damnit," I grumbled. "Okay, okay, I'm awake." I sat up and glared at the tall man, who in the past few days I've learned has a name – but I refuse to even associate him with it – that makes him human. And this group of assholes hardly qualifies as human.

I didn't know exactly how long I'd been here; I'd guess around a week and a half, but there definitely weren't any calendars around. The only time they've unchained me is to let me go to the bathroom, and I have to eat the meager portions of food they give me with one hand.

As I sat lost in my thoughts, the shorter man came and unchained me, and it wasn't bathroom time. They jerked me up off the bed and held my hands behind my back, handcuffing them. My heart started to pound as I asked, "What's happening? Where are you taking me?"

He of course ignored me, so I kept asking. Finally, he shoved me into a chair and leaned down so his face was even with mine. "We're about to get what we want, you fucking asshole," he hissed.

I looked around, a gasp escaping my throat when I saw an unfamiliar man standing near me with a gun. Then, the tall man brought out a battered looking cell phone, and the realization washed over me like acid.

The negotiations were about to begin.

Tallahassee, Florida

Rachel

A knock at my door shook me from my slumber; I had fallen asleep on the couch watching American Horror Story.

I jumped up and ran to the door, and when I looked out the peephole, I saw a familiar looking man in uniform.

Major Harrison Thomas.

Flinging the door open, I urged him inside. "Major Thomas," I greeted him, offering a seat on the couch.

He sat, and when he looked up at me, I knew that whatever news he had was not good.

"Rachel... I have news about Miles," he started, and I bit my lip in anticipation.

"What is it?"

He took a deep breath and pulled a large iPad out of his briefcase. "Miles has been taken hostage by ISIS."

My heart sank into my stomach, and I clapped my hands to my mouth. "No," I breathed.

He nodded somberly. "We have suspected as much all along, but unfortunately, we now have proof." He clicked the iPad on and handed it to me.

A video was cued up to play, and I shook my head violently.

"I – I can't watch this," I protested, gently pushing it back into his hands.

He nodded and slid the iPad back into his bag. "I understand. If you change your mind, you can find it on YouTube," he said, and I heard the note of disgust in his voice.

"What? It's on YouTube?" I felt anger rise in my chest. "That's fucked up," I said, and my face turned red. "Sorry for my language."

He held up his hand. "No apology necessary. You're correct; it doesn't seem right, but technically it's a matter of free speech."

I shook my head again, bringing my fingers up to massage my temples. "Is he okay – I mean, physically?"

He nodded. "They won't seriously harm them before trying to get the information they want."

I swallowed. "What if – what if they don't get the information they want?"

He put a comforting hand over mine. "We won't let that happen. We have a team on this right now, as we speak."

Tears spilled over onto my cheeks as I nodded. "Okay. Please... keep me updated. I want to hear about any developments, no matter how small."

He stood up and I followed him to the door. "We will. I promise. And Rachel?"

"Yeah?"

"If you decide to watch that video, don't do it alone."

***

All evening, I sat and stared at my laptop, Safari opened to YouTube. I had typed in the address Major Thomas had left with me but couldn't bring myself to hit enter.

A knock at the door had me running into the living room, and upon looking out the peephole, saw it was Alex. Shit... we have that project. I opened the door, and he immediately asked me if I was okay.

"Not really," I murmured. "Dale was right, Alex; Miles has been taken hostage. By ISIS."

The color drained from his face. "What? How do you know?"

"Major Thomas came back by today and told me. He even–" My voice cracked. "He even said there's a video," I whispered.

Alex swallowed audibly. "Oh fuck. Have you seen it?"

I shook my head. "I can't bring myself to do it."

He nodded. "That's understandable."

"Part of me wants to... just so I can see that he's still alive."

Alex scratched his head and looked at me. "I'll watch it with you if you need me to," he offered.

Closing my eyes momentarily, I bit my lip and nodded. "All right." I got up off the couch and went almost blindly into my bedroom, barely hearing Alex's footfalls on the carpet behind me.

I sat at the desk while Alex dragged a chair over to sit next to me. My finger hovered over the enter key for at least a full minute, but I couldn't press it. I looked at Alex sideways and he gently pushed my hand out of the way, tapping the key one time.

Immediately the video began to play, and I gripped my thighs so tightly I knew I was leaving marks on my skin.

I gasped and started to sob when I saw Miles in a folding chair in the center of the screen, his blue eyes wide and terrified, his uniform ripped, his skin dirty... not to mention all the scrapes and bruises on his face. A flag I recognized from many news stories hung on the wall behind him. It was a horrifying sight.

They spoke in Arabic for a minute or two, and though we had no idea what they were saying, we could tell they were showboating – they were proud of having Miles in their possession.

But when Miles began to speak, his voice mechanical, but shaky, my heart shattered.

I'm Officer Miles Grant Salazar, Platoon 73 of the United States Army. The demands are as follows: Corporal Joseph Franklin, you will give them the information regarding your next three moves. You will give them locations of your next three attacks. If you do not comply in 48 hours, I will be dead.

On the last word, Miles' voice broke and one of the men stepped in and addressed the camera in broken English, but I could hardly hear what he was saying. I couldn't breathe. All I could focus on was Miles.

And as if hearing Miles make those demands weren't enough, one of the men punched Miles so hard in the face that he almost fell out of his seat. The only reason he didn't hit the ground was because he was handcuffed to the metal of the chair.

The video ended with one of them kicking Miles in the stomach, and his cry of pain sent uncontrollable shivers through my body.

The video faded to black and I slammed the lid down on my laptop, getting up and flinging myself face down on my bed, sobs wracking my body.

"Rachel," Alex said, and I felt the mattress dip as he sat next to me. "Rachel, breathe, please," he whispered.

I tried to slow my sobs, focusing on my breathing. "Alex, what the fuck am I going to do? What if they kill him?" I sat up, pushing my hair back off my face. "What will I do!?"

He pulled me to him and hugged me tightly, attempting to quell my shaking. "Rachel. The United States Army is not going to let that happen. They just aren't. My uncle is in the Marines, so I know a little bit about this stuff. They'll do whatever it takes to get him out of there safely."

I wiped my tears with my shirt sleeve and looked up at him. "You really believe that?"

"I do. And you need to too... or you'll never get through the next 48 hours," he said seriously.

I nodded. "Okay. I'll try." I slid out from his embrace and stepped to the bathroom to splash water on my face. "I don't know if I can work on this project, Alex..."

He held up his hands. "I'm going to finish the project, Rach. You're in no shape to worry about it right now."

I cocked my head to the side. "No, that's not fair."

He stepped toward me and put his hand on my shoulder. "What you're going through right now isn't fair. Let me do this."

I sighed heavily. "All right... thanks, Alex." I gave him a tiny smile. "Thanks for being here for me. It's hard when I'm not with my or Miles' family or my best friend."

"I told Miles I would watch out for you. And I intend to follow through with that promise."

I nodded and changed the subject before I cried again. "What day is that project due?"

He looked at his phone. "This coming Monday... March 25."

My heart sank.

It's March 23rd... our wedding is exactly one year from today.

God, please, I prayed silently, bring him home.