For just a moment, the calm and composed Tavish disappeared. He was replaced by the Tavish that tended to appear before missions. The cowardly one, the one that had been present his whole life and didn't show any signs of leaving. The truth he didn't like admitting to himself is that he was terrified by many things. It was a good thing he liked being scared. The numbness in his limbs, the shortness of breath, the shaking hands, he loved it all. One might say that made him a masochist, and they's be right. Although Tavish always argued that every soldier that enjoyed his work must be at least a [i]little[/i] masochistic. And Tavish definitely loved his job. Not that he enjoyed killing people, he just loved the sense of danger. He smiled and exited the helicopter, Mossberg at the ready.
	
	The place was arid, to say the least. The heat made him feel heavy, and the dryness of the place took his breath away. He did a loop of the helicopter, not that he believed there to be any hostiles right next to their LZ. His heart was hammering. His hands were shaking, his breath was ragged. He loved every second of it. The truth was, after being in the military, civilian life was so [i]boring[/i]. Whenever he was on leave, he spent the whole time throwing himself into action fiction. Normal, non-fatal civilian life was boring. 

	He walked back to the door of the Chinook.
	"We're all good out here, guys." The ever-present smile still on his face.