A/N from A.C.: Welp, this is the end. Hope everyone enjoyed the story!

Eliza put the donated blood into a bag and hooked that up to an IV. She took the tube with the needle in one hand and pushed the needle tip into Wash's wrist.

York had slumped from the wall and was now lying on the floor, on his left side, using his arm as a pillow. He grunted and curled into a tight ball as a cold chill went over him.

"Just look at him," Eliza turned and cooed at the dreamy look on York's face.

"Yeah, yeah," Morgan replied dryly, "very cute. Hey, could you tell me how he got that scar?"

"No," The medic said, her eyes automatically drawn to York's left eye. "I couldn't tell you, but even if I knew, I wouldn't say. York seems to be real self-conscious about it."

The red private gave a small grunt of acknowledgement.

Eliza turned to face the young red, "What do you think he's dreaming about...?"

"Agent Washington. It's an order. Shoot him." The Director ordered in a harsh voice.

York was sitting on his knees on the floor, his ankles were bound with rope and his hands were tied behind his back. A cloth was tied around his head, so it was gagging him, pulled tight so it would surely leave marks. He had small traces of tears going down his cheeks and was whimpering softly, his whole body shaking in fear. York's eyes were clenched shut; he was trying to shrink into a corner so the two other men in the room would forget about him.

Wash's eyes closed as he forced himself to raise his pistol. The recovery agent's hand was shaking violently; he opened his eyes again to see the cold, metal gun barrel pressed to the side of York's head.

"Shoot him, Agent Washington." The harsh voice broke through to Wash's ears.

The Director took slow steps toward York, he raised his own gun up and pressed it to the other side of York's head. "If you don't shoot him, I will."

Fresh tears started pouring from York's eyes. He was shaking even worse now under the weight of the two guns, muffled cries snuck past the gag as he tried to beg for help.

"I-I can't..." Wash's voice was wavered as he spoke..

"Then, Washington, you chose his fate." He cocked the pistol and pressed it hard against the freelancer's head.

"No!" Wash yelped and jumped for the Director, he jabbed the man in the stomach with his shoulder. Wash knocked the Director to the ground just as the shot rang through the near empty room. The bullet missed York by just centimeters. Wash turned quickly, his pistol now pressed to the side of the Director's head.

"You," Wash hissed, "I'm not afraid to kill."

York's heart rate sped up at the intense memory and was turning and shifting on the floor, letting out low whimpers and grunts.

"Should we wake 'im up?" Morgan asked softly.

Eliza checked her watch and looked to York again, "I suppose we should, it's been about 6 hours since he fell asleep."

Morgan shrugged and walked over to the sleeping freelancer. He lightly tapped York's ribs with his armored foot; York stirred slightly and sat up less than willingly. He rubbed his eyes and blinked to Morgan, silently demanding an explanation.

"You were having a nightmare." Morgan said matter-of-factly.

"Mmm... Thanks for waking me."

"No problem."

"York! Morgan! Wash is waking up!" Eliza shrieked from her spot back by the bathtub.

"Mmm... 'Kay..." York groaned. "... Wait... What?"

Morgan pushed him lightly, "Wash is awake!"

"HE'S WHAT?"

York rushed into the spacious bathroom. He dropped to his knees at the side of the tub containing the recovery agent.

Wash's eyes were half-lidded and cloudy. He was still resting his head on his shoulder, and his breathing was a little heavier. The recovery agent's mouth was open slightly, breaths coming out evenly.

"Wash? Are you alright?" York asked softly, putting a hand on Wash's forearm lightly.

The recovery agent gently jumped in his spot at the touch. He looked to York with unfocused hazel eyes.

York gave a sad sigh at the look on Wash's face, and turned to Eliza, "Do you think he lost his memory?"

"No, I don't think that would be possible. The fracture only cracked his skull, from what I saw, his brain wasn't really affected at all." The medic replied.

York sighed and looked back to Wash, the agent had managed to sit himself up while the two were talking. He was lightly tracing the deep wounds on his chest with his index finger. Wash could feel the gaze of someone on him, he looked up to see York staring at him, and his eyes grew wide.

"... York...?"

"Wash! You're okay!" York yelped at the weak voice. He jumped to his feet and ran to Eliza. "Ohh... ThankyouThankyouThankyou!" He dragged her into a tight hug then turned on Morgan and did the same.

"C'n someone please 'elp me..?" Wash slurred quietly, still sitting in a thin layer of his drying blood.

York darted over to Wash's side and helped him out of the tub. The bigger freelancer wrapped his arms around York in a tight hug. "Thanks f'r coming f'r me... I love you..."

"You're welcome, hon." York said gently, pulling away slightly from Wash. York started to trace Wash's jaw and collarbone with his fingers. After a moment of silence between the two, York spoke again, "But, Wash, who attacked you?"

Wash rubbed the back of his head, feeling the stitches that were there, "Damn... Tenn sure can hold a grudge."