The general sat at his desk, his agitation quite obvious.

He needed to get a message to the corp of engineers to get a status report.  They were frantically trying to dig out the bunker that had been badly damaged at the far end of the eastern front.  It was too dangerous to evacuate the men using the tunnels; only the runners could navigate them.  They were highly specialized.  The men had to be dug out, but in the meantime they needed medical supplies and their medic had been killed.  The general wrestled with his conscience.  He could send a runner through the tunnel, but he would still need to send a medic with him.  It was risky; the eastern tunnel was old and had sustained heavy damage.  The general wasn’t sure he was willing to take that chance.

The door to his headquarters suddenly burst open, a breathless Jaybom storming in.

The general scowled at him.

“What are you doing here?  You’re on excused duty.”

Jaybom had the look of fear in his eyes.  The general could feel the hair on the back of his neck standing up.

“Sir, you need to come with me now…”

 

A crowd had gathered in front of the tunnel that lead to the eastern front; a lonely figure standing vigil.

The general gently placed his hand upon the doctor’s shoulder.  Junsu acknowledged his presence with a slow turn of his head.  The general sighed; his own emotions deeply conflicted as he watched a single tear trickle down Junsu’s cheek…

 

“What the hell is this stuff we are wearing?” Jaejoong asked Yoochun as he rubbed the black, sticky substance between his fingers.

“Camoflage,” the runner replied while smearing the dark makeup all over his face.

“Believe me, we’re going to need it.”

They had stopped at the intersection where the tunnels began to branch off and get smaller.  It was bad enough that they weren’t able to stand upright, but soon they would be crawling on their bellies.  Some of the tunnels had little carts with pulleys and levers, but not this one.  This tunnel was the oldest; built at the outset of the war it was simply a means to get communication to and from the most dangerous field of operations: the eastern front.

“We’re going to die, you know,” Jaejoong spoke, his voice low and without emotion.

Yoochun turned to him and smiled; his teeth bright and even; his grin even whiter in the darkness.

“That’s a distinct possibility.”

Jaejoong shook his head and finished smearing the camo all over his face.

“I would prefer dying without this crap all over me,” he stated.

Yoochun chuckled.

“You’re so vain,” he told his soulmate.

They sat in silence while they finished their work; checking their equipment and making sure everything was in order.

Junsu had reluctantly given Jae all the medical supplies he needed; even an inhaler for Yoochun.  The runner secured his medicine in his pocket and took a deep breath.  He was about to speak, but Jae beat him to it.

“I wrote a letter to Yunho,” he said nonchalantly.

Yoochun nodded his head.  The runner swallowed hard.

“I wrote a letter too.”

The medic understood.  Yoochun didn’t have to go into details; Jaejoong already knew the contents of his friend’s letter and to whom it was addressed…

 

Junsu fumbled the letter in his hands; fingers tracing the name.  With great hesitation he handed it to the local postman for delivery.  As he walked away, he spoke the name under his breath.

“Dara…”

 

The tunnel narrowed; lights flickering on and off.  It became darker, colder, smaller...it made Jaejoong shiver.  The walls creaked; dust fell upon them.  The tunnel was becoming even more unstable. They crawled; slithering like snakes through the narrow passage until they could hear the sound of gunfire and explosions.  Jaejoong’s heart pounded with every burst of cannon fire.

“I’m a hero,” he told himself; his “nickname” no longer a joke, but a heavy burden to carry.   He had earned that nickname despite his modesty.  Even before the war he was known as a healer; his gentle nature and his unselfish desire to love others had earned him a reputation.

“Hero” suited him very well.  He didn’t need a weapon, or have prowess in battle, to prove his courage.  Heroes came in all shapes and sizes.

He watched as Yoochun loaded his gun and secured it to his back.  It was unusual to see the runner carry a pistol, let alone a rifle.  Jae had heard stories of how his friend had defended himself with nothing but a knife.  If Yoochun was  carrying a rifle, he meant business.

“Stay low,” Chun’s voice interrupted his thoughts.  Move slowly; they’ll send up flares to try and see you.  If that happens, freeze.  I’ll be right behind you.”

It was pitch black now; they had waited for dark.  It was the safest time to move through the open spaces between the tunnels that lead to the trenches.  It was still very dangerous; they had to crawl through the mud to avoid the patrols.  The only thing separating them from the other side was an earthen rampart shielded by barbed wire.   Yoochun took a risk; using his tiny flashlight he signalled across to the other side of the trench hoping to get a response.  He got one, and he smiled to himself.  Securing his light, they flattened themselves to the ground and began to make their arduous trek across the trench.  As they made their way through the muck, their greatest fears became a reality.

“Runner,” the voice called out to them in the darkness.

Jae stifled a gasp as Changmin’s voice echoed across the narrow passage.

Chun slowly touched his friend.  They so desperately wanted to call out to their former comrade; to tell them who they were.  Jae could feel the tears now; they flowed freely.  He was not alone.  They stung Yoochun’s eyes as their maknae’s voice echoed through the night.

“Give yourself up runner.  Your men are trapped.  You have no hope of escape.”

Yoochun gently tapped Jaejoong’s foot.  With their heads down, they continued to slither through the muck.  A flare went up; Yoochun touched Jaejoong again and they stopped.  The mud was thick and cold; it had rained recently; it would impede their progress greatly.  The night air, coupled with the smoke and stench of the battlefield was ruinous to Yoochun’s lungs.  He felt his asthma kick in and despite the danger, he fumbled with his pocket to get his medicine.  It was a mistake.

Another flare went up and they were spotted.  They were sitting ducks.  Yoochun didn’t hesitate one bit.

“I’ll cover you.  Run, run for your life.”

Jaejoong sprinted like a gazelle; bullets flying all around him.  If he had looked back he would have been amazed;  Yoochun shooting into the darkness providing a distraction.  Jaejoong made it to the other side; hands reaching out through the open end of the damaged bunker.  He turned to see his friend sprinting almost backwards; rifle in one hand, pistol in the other spraying bullets through the barbed wire on the other side.  The men yelled out to him and he scrambled; hands and arms grasping his tunic, yanking him inside the bunker and out of harms way.

They sat breathless; regaining their composure, they smiled at each other.  But the happiness was momentary as Jae looked at the frightened faces of the men inside the bunker; some of them barely out of their teens.

It was almost complete darkness; a single light still flickering.  They were surrounded by rubble; the entrance clearly blocked where enemy shells had decimated it.  The air was thick; some of the men were coughing; almost choking on it.  Jaejoong stumbled over to a body covered by a bullet torn jacket.  A young man sat by the body, his face streaked with dirt and tears.  Jaejoong pulled back the jacket.  It was his fellow medic.  Jae sighed deeply and covered the dead man’s face.  He placed a hand on the crying soldier’s shoulder.  He too, was a medic; new to the corp, he wasn’t prepared to take over the arduous duty of seeing to the wounded.  He did his best, a fact which Jaejoong noticed as he surveyed what remained of the hapless platoon.

“Here’s the supplies.  Make sure everyone is ok.  I’ll be with you in a minute.”

Jaejoong ambled over to the runner; his friend fumbling with his tunic searching for something.

“What is it?”

Yoochun’s hands trembled.

“My inhaler.  It must have fallen out.”

The medic looked at his friend, his concern turning to panic as he focused more clearly on his friend hands.

They were covered in blood.

“Chunnie, you’ve been hit.”

Yoochun looked down at his hands; his whole body trembling now as he realized what Jae had discovered.

It was as if the adrenaline rush had kicked in, masking the pain.  Now, safe inside the bunker and no longer under fire, reality set in.

“Jae…” a pathetic whisper escaped Yoochun’s lip as the pain finally registered.

Jaejoong called out to the other medic; barking orders, the two stripped the runner of his uniform and began to ascertain the damage.

“It’s ok, Chun,” Jaejoong whispered.  “You’re going to be ok.”

The walls closed in; faces became unrecognizable shapes; sounds, slurred and muffled, fell on deaf ears, as the lights flickered and slowly faded away...