The explosion engulfed everything, turning into a roaring symphony of destruction. All that remained of the sensations was the crushing weight of the sand, the suffocating blanket that hid her consciousness. Bobby's memory shattered into a mosaic of shadows. Returning to the base was an empty memory for her, as were the hands that took care of her, and the quick transportation to the sterile whiteness of the hospital. Bobby had no idea what had happened to her team–were they safe, defeated, or completely lost?

Her senses slowly returned, and her body responded with a chorus of throbbing protests, a sharp throbbing pain. A curse escaped her lips, but it died without being born. A young woman stood in front of her, her features illuminated by the soft light of the room, and she carefully inserted an IV. At that moment, Bobby was the epitome of grace, the epitome of incomparable beauty. Was she a hallucination, a figment of the imagination generated by pain and trauma? Had those sands swallowed her up, transporting her to the underworld? Bobby's throat went dry when she dared to speak.

"Are you.....an angel?"