A/N from A.C.: This is a RED VS BLUE fanfiction. Yaoi. Which means GAY. York/Wash pairing thank you very much. XD Blood and fun stuff as well. Enjoy.

Warnings: Blood, OoCness, OCs, yaoi.

"Agent New York, come in." The radio buzzed loudly in York's ear. "Come in, Agent New York."

"Yes, command. This is Agent York. Over."

"Agent York, Recovery Agent One is out. We fear he's K.O.'d by the enemy. You're the closest agent to him, I'll send coordinates."

'Wash... Just had to be Wash, huh?' York thought as command sent the coordinates to his helmet. 'Couldn't have been anyone else. First blinded in one eye, and now Wash got hurt... This war hates me.'

"Do you have the location York?" Command spoke loud enough to snap York out of his trance.

"Uh, yeah, Command, I got it. Location Sandtrap, Outpost 19b. Am I correct?"

"Yes, you are York. Hurry and get there quickly. Use the AI Delta if you need medical help on Wash's condition. Command out."

"Agent York, out." He replied curtly, shutting off his radio.

A green soldier suddenly appeared in front of York. He was dressed in green glowing armor from head to toe and was roughly the size of York's head. The figure's helmet was off, however, and it showed a man of his early 20s (if he was human), his shaggy hair glowing a dull green.

"York, I suppose we should get there quickly." The AI said softly.

"Yeah, D. I think we should." York said as his jog broke into a run, going for his vehicle.

"York." He spoke again, to get the agent's attention, "Just one small question..."

"What is it? I'm kinda in a hurry here."

"Do you think your previous encounters with Agent Washington will change your thoughts on this mission?"

"Now, Delta, what would make you think that?" York replied sarcastically, rolling his eyes under his helmet for emphasis.

"I take that as a yes."

"I cared for that guy and he just... left after my... incident." A hand subconsciously reached up to his left eye. "He just... never seemed to care enough for me."

"I fear he does. My sensors indicate that both Agents California and Alaska were within 100-mile radius. Washington must have done something to get you to come out specifically."

York sighed and decided he needed some alone time, "Delta, off-line."

"Complying."

York groaned as he jumped into his vehicle, he strapped on the safety belt before slamming his foot down on the gas. The jeep quickly jerked to life and began speeding to the south.

'I'm an infiltrations specialist,' York thought, 'Why on Earth would they send a blacksmith to help someone... and why does it have to be Wash?'

His thoughts were interrupted as a burst of sand flew in front of his vision. He was definitely at Sandtrap... Every turn and every press on the brakes caused sand and small rocks to fly into his line of vision, occasionally even hitting his helmet and giving him a little scare. The soon-to-be Recovery Agent jumped swiftly over the side of the jeep, and gathered his supplies. He walked to a nearby base, hopefully where Wash was.

A red soldier was standing in the doorway, blocking York's only way in. The private was dumbly swinging his gun back and forth, out of boredom. The freelancer stepped up to the soldier and spoke, snapping the private to attention.

"Private, I need access to this building."

"Sorry, sir. I can't let anyone pass... But, I can call the Sergeant if you want."

"Please, just call him." York said, tapping his foot impatiently.

The red turned around and buzzed on his radio. York could hear the loud muffled voice coming from the man's helmet. After a few moments the buzzing stopped and the soldier turned around to face York.

"Are you, uh, Agent New York?" The soldier hesitantly asked.

"Yes... That's me..."

"And... You're headed to help that guy Washington, right?"

"Yes..."

"Okay, then you're allowed admittance. We brought Washington to the spare room. First door on your left." The private pointed to a hallway. "Oh, and, uh, sorry to keep you waiting."

"It's fine..."

"If you need anything just call fer Private Smith, alright?"

"Can do, soldier." York nodded; he was already getting tired of talking to the private.

The regulation red private turned and walked back to the door to resume his guard duty. York turned and started to walk down the hall that Smith directed him to. York pushed open the first left door and pushed it open. He looked around the room until his eyes fell on the still body on the bed. His jaw dropped at the sight of Wash.

The recovery agent was laying on the cot, only in thin, black under-armor. He was curled into a ball but York could distinguish the man quite easily. His brown, scraggly hair was deeply matted with blood and his hazel eyes were closed. Wash's breathing was so soft that York could barely see his chest rising and falling. The black under-armor was torn and ripped; drying blood also covered his chest and stomach. The desert sand was stuck to the bloody parts, making him look even dirtier and more injured than he probably was. But York's working eye was drawn to Wash's unprotected feet. They were raw and bloody, also covered in sand, probably from running away from whatever attacked him. And Wash's armor was nowhere in sight.

York removed his helmet and ruffled his dark brown hair; he looked to Wash through his one working eye and sighed. He stuck his head out of the doorway and shouted for Smith.

After a few minutes the red soldier came skidding down the hall to meet York. He made a quick stop and saluted. His eyes met York's as he asked, "Wh- What happened to your eye?"

"That's none of your business, private!" York snapped, he absolutely hated when people brought up his eye or scar.

"S-sorry, sir!" Smith quickly replied with a stumbling salute, "What can I do to help?"

"Get me a pail of water, a cloth and a medic," York noticed Wash breathing was slowing down, "And hurry!"

The red private sped out of the room as York took a seat next to Wash, he grabbed the inanimate wrist and held two fingers to the large blue vein.

Smith jetted into the room and dropped a pail and a cloth at York's feet.

"Is he breathing?" The private asked.

York turned to the private and replied, "Just barely, did you call for the medic like I asked?"

"Yeah, she'll be here soon."

"Okay, thanks, private."

"No problem... and remember, if you need anything else, just call."

York grumbled and shoved the cloth into the water; he waited a moment before removing it and ringing out the excess water. York softly turned Wash's body onto its side so Wash's front was facing the wall. The back of the Recovery Agent's head was a giant bloody mess. York lightly pushed back some of Wash's hair and started to dab at the bloody mess. As soon as he cleared most of the dried blood away, York had to turn his head to keep from vomiting.

The back of Wash's skull was smashed in; it looked like someone hit him in the back of the head with a shotgun. It must have either been very hard, or Wash wasn't wearing his helmet at the time. York dabbed at the wound again as fresh blood started to ooze out. He buried his hand into the tangled hair, wiping away the fresh blood.

A figure in orange and maroon armor stepped into the doorway."Did anyone call for a medic?"

York's head snapped around so fast he was sure he snapped someing. Looking at the woman in the doorway, he noticed she had her helmet under one arm and her medical bags in each hand. The strawberry blonde hair was falling into her bright blue eyes as she called to York.

"Do you mind coming over here and helping me with my bags?"

York nodded slightly and disentangled his hand from Wash's matted hair; he put the cloth back into the water bucket and stood up. The freelancer calmly walked over to the medic and took a bag.

"What's your name?" York asked as he lugged the bag over to the bed where Wash was laying.

"Medical Officer Murdock." She replied softly, carrying her bag with ease, "Call me Eliza."

"Alright, Eliza. I'm Agent New York. Call me York." He nodded, turning back to the almost-lifeless form. "What do we do to help him?"

"We're gonna have to clean him up and treat the wounds." She replied staring at the body. "His suit seems to be glued on with blood, so we'll have to cut it off."

York blinked a few times before looking at her. Ã"Cut it off? Won't that be a little dangerous? We could hurt him..."

"Not at all. I have medical supplies. Now help me get the top of his suit off."

York sighed as he reached towards the neckline of the suit. The black material pulled slightly at the skin when York pulled at it. Eliza leaned in with her medical scissors and cut lightly at the fabric. York's breathing hitched as the cloth around Wash's chest fell to the floor. York could see the well-defined chest muscles and abs under all the blood and he immediately regretted coming. He couldn't see his love like this... Covered in blood and sand.

York turned around and sighed as the medic pulled farther down on the fabric. York spoke up, "You think you should go clean him off in the bathroom? I mean... you could get fresh water there if you needed it and privacy."

"Come to think of it, yes." Eliza said, "Can you help me get him into the bathroom?"

York blushed as he lifted Wash's feet and the medic grabbed him by under the arms.

'I really can't stand seeing Wash like this...' York thought, 'It's just too much, I'll have to get him fixed up ASAP.'