Disclaimer: The Unit and its characters belong to CBS. No infringement intended

Summary: Tag to Unannounced, Kim's POV. Whoever said that which does not kill us makes us stronger was full of phooey.

A/N: I'm appealing to that side of all of us that secretly wants to be rescued.


At first I thought it was the garbage truck. I ignored the clanking sound for a good fifteen minutes before I finally looked out. Idiot! If I had waited five more minutes, the car would have been completely gone and I would have been calling the MP's to report it stolen. How the hell does a tow truck get on base anyway?

I knew it was pointless to try to plead my case with the driver. Like he could actually do anything about it? He's just another hired gun, told to go get that Hyundai station wagon from the Brown's driveway and completely ruin Mrs. Kim Brown's day. Why hell didn't I park in the garage?

Oh, and my friends? I love how they're so helpful in my time of need. Molly gave me that look that told me silently she was disappointed. Sure Jonas said he would try to reach Bob, but do I honestly believe that's going to happen? And as much as I want to talk to him, what the hell is he going to be able to do from half the world away? If he is half a world away that is … for all I know, he's sleeping in the cave. Maybe he arranged this whole thing because I complained about how dopey I felt driving a station wagon last week. Maybe when I get home later there'll be a nice shiny SUV in its place. Yeah, whatever, that's just a dream.

I was going to ask Molly for money from the investment club. Two months ago I wrote her a check for four grand just to make a point that I could. I felt pretty good about it on that day, like I was all that. Then, I had to admit what I did to Bob, who of course, hit the roof and gave me that damn look of his with those eyes and I felt like such a schmuck. I promised him that I would get it back and he was a little more forgiving when we actually made some money, but now … shoot, I could really use some of it. And I don't want to hear Bob's or Molly's sanctimonious opinion about it ….because it's pointless.

Of course I didn't ask Molly for any of it because she came to the radio station and rambled on and on about how great this real estate deal was. She did the whole thing with that wet puppy look in her eye that just made me think that my measly towed car and unpaid credit card bill was nothing in the whole grand scheme of things Besides, Rory said he could give me an advance right? He just left to go to the ATM right?

So why my mind is even thinking about any of that while this creep is all over me is beyond my wildest dreams. I'm distracting myself from reality while his hands are pawing at my skin. His mouth covers my lips when I try to scream. He's kissing me like a lover, whispering huskily in my ear about what he wants to do to me. The way he manhandles me is leaving bruises on my skin. Pain shoots through my body as I'm pinned to the radio board and knocked against the wall. He touches me in places that I share only with Bob. And gawd, if Bob knew this guy's fingers were squeezing my breasts or that he had his hand down my pants I know this guy would be dead. D-E-A-D dead. If I could just get free, I'd kill him myself with my gun … that's on the other side of the door.

On the other side of the door. I keep fixating on that. I keep trying to move that direction and get away from this guy named Mike, but he's stronger than me. Each time I struggle against him, each time I try to get away, I'm rewarded with a bite or a slap or a squeeze. His fingers have reached far below my waistband than I'd be comfortable with even on a first date. His touch is rough and sadistic and the only thought that floods my mind is that my car was towed today. MY CAR WAS TOWED TODAY!

I know my mouth is running a thousand miles a second, yet whatever words I'm trying to say are lost in a jumble of cries and tears and pleas. And in the rare moments that I can get my hands free, I try to touch everything. I try desperately to do something to save myself and rescue me because right now…the only person I can rely on is me.

Then as quickly as this thing started, it stops. Rory is standing there with the gun as this Mike guy runs for the door. And then Rory's calling 911 and pulling me into his arms and all I can think is my car was towed today. Like that is the one thing that has made this whole thing real. It's the only thing that made any sense today.

I can feel Bob's eyes on me when he calls a few minutes later. I try to act like nothing is wrong, even though my voice is riddled with fear. I'm sure he can hear the commotion in the background, the police radios, the sirens and the paramedic talking to me. I know he gets it because I can't lie to him and I can't tell him the truth at least for this minute. And when he finds out he's going to hit the roof, but I'll be ready for him then because Rory went to the ATM.


I'm at the hospital and I'm dressed in a backless gown. A detective tries to be human while she documents my injuries. I keep touching the bruises on my wrist because the muted pain I feel keeps it real. The doctors are examining me and taking samples and every pinch or pressure that I feel reminds of every mistake I've ever made. I worry that Bob is going to be angry because I couldn't handle things while he was away.

I see Mack pacing in the hallway just outside my room. I feel Tiffy's hand on my shoulder as she helps me get dressed and never once do I feel guilty that I didn't call Molly or Jonas when the police asked. I'm thankful that Mack and Tiffy get it because I don't need to be judged at this minute. Then the doctors release me and Mack refuses to let me go home alone. Tiffy fixes me a bowl of chicken soup and makes me eat it, even though I don't too. Rory knocks at the door to check on me and leave the money from the ATM. And the senselessness of the day melts away into a swirl of colors and lights as I drift off to sleep, alone in my bed.

I'm not alone for long. Nightmares invade my sleep and taunt me with their sickening sweet allure. I feel like I'm drowning and my rescuer is a scumbag that requests Elvis during a pre-recorded show. He paws at me through the surface and licks my skin with his skunky tongue. My limbs are pressed to my side and I'm paralyzed, unable to move. I watch the tow truck drive away with Serena's tricycle on the flat bed and Mack Gerhardt takes out my trash, which includes an ATM machine. And Molly Blaine chases me through the back yard of a creepy old house.

I open my eyes to find myself staring into Bob's. The look he is giving me isn't at all what I expect. The warmth that emanates from him surrounds me with a sheath of something that needs no words between us. Yet I feel like I need to explain something to him. I need to find words that will make this all just go away, so he understands why I lied to him when he thought he knew me better.

"Bob, our car was towed today. I thought it was the garbage man, but when I realized it wasn't it was too late. Rory loaned me the money to get it back," I ramble rolling over toward him on our bed. He says nothing for a moment and that look in his eye tells me he understands why I've latched on to this trivial thing.

"It's okay," he sighs tangling his fingers in my hair. "You didn't like that old station wagon anyway."

I finally let go of the breath I was holding and the tears roll freely down my face. I'm thankful that the people that matter get it. It's the only thing that makes sense. The only thing I want to remember about today was my look on my face when I realized I should have parked in the garage. .

The end.