"That went well," Chavez said, taking a seat across the desk from a rather cross-looking John Clark.

The older man furrowed his brows. "It went as well as any unauthorized rescue mission in dangerous territory could go."

"Yeah. About that." Chavez managed to look a little despondent. "Sorry."

"You should be," Clark snapped. "We don't need any reasons for policymakers to deny us funding. We're already walking a pretty thin line when it comes to taking everyone's top soldiers."

"Yeah. I know."

"And if that wasn't enough, NATO's analysis was—"

"Oh, give me a break. You know I don't give a damn about what NATO thought of it." Ding shifted in his seat and sighed angrily. "Weber is our guy, Mr. C. They would have killed him. We couldn't just leave him there."

Clark rubbed his eyes. "I know, son, he's part of the team. Believe me, I understand. But either way, you could have gotten the rest of the team killed."

"Like I said, Mr. C. Don't really care about those NATO analysts."

"You have to care, whether you like it or not."

"They don't know us, sir," Chavez insisted. "They don't know our men, what they can do."

Clark crossed his arms and leaned back in the worn leather chair. There would be no arguing with this boy when it came to the abilities of his team — this man, he corrected himself. But he was enough like a boy when he made these decisions, when he disobeyed orders in the name of nobility. Not exactly impulsive, but it certainly came off as that, or worse, as inexperience. Clark wondered if he knew that, but still acted despite the orders not to go after their German long-rifleman. He really did understand the importance of teams, and how much each person meant to one another, and it worried him somewhat that these connections might have bad implications for their leadership... which led him to a slightly different but related topic. "Ding, have you noticed that some of our people are more... attached to each other? In a way that's more than just friendly?"

Chavez tilted his head to the side. "Uh... more intimate, do you mean?" Clark nodded. "Well, it has to be expected. They're all physically fit, intelligent, good-looking people. For the most part," he added for humility's sake.

"Do you worry that those attachments might be bad for the team?"

Ding frowned, clearly trying to answer objectively while protecting his troops. "Well, I might've worried, if they were some run-of-the-mill soldiers who barely knew the handle of a gun from the shooty part," he said, "but these are men and women who know better. Way better."

"So you don't think it affects them at all?"

"No, I don't think that. I think..." He trailed off for a moment and glanced away, formulating his response, before turning back to Clark. "I think it might make things harder for them if we lost someone. But that would impact the whole team, not just someone who'd been sharing the bed with them. I mean, you said it yourself. We all know the risks."

Clark rubbed his chin. "If I recall, Yacoby was not especially thrilled when I said that."

A somewhat flustered look appeared on the younger man's face. "Well, uh, to be fair, she is a bit more invested. I mean, she's... well, Weber is—"

"Did Yacoby demand that you defy orders to rescue him?" he asked very seriously.

He shook his head quickly. "It was my call, Mr. C."

"But did she pressure you?"

That made Chavez pause for a moment. "I... no, she didn't. Listen, sir, I know how much he means to her. He means a lot to everyone, me included. I wasn't about to let him die."

John Clark leaned back with another sigh. "That's what I thought."

"God damn it, John! Wipe that smug-ass look off your face." Chavez squeezed his eyes shut for a split second before opening them again. "I know what it looks like. But even if Yacoby wasn't there, I would have done the same thing."

"It's not good for our purposes, Ding. We need everyone to be able to follow orders here."

"They're smart people. They're not gonna run in there, guns blazing. Even in the Sahara, we had a plan."

"I understand that, but if personal relationships become a problem, then I—"

"Then what?" Chavez snapped, his LA accent making its way into his voice, as it usually did when he was agitated. "You'll confine us all to cages? Maybe try to stop us from talking to each other off the job, or try to make us hate each other? That ain't how it works, 'mano. So what if some of them are best friends, or rivals, or lovers? It don't matter. We are brothers and sisters in arms. There's no deeper bond than that. So if you wanted to get rid of personal relationships because they're problems, well, you already failed, because we're already a goddamn family, and I'll be damned if I don't try to keep it together!"

John Clark regarded him for a long moment, after which he couldn't help but smile. It had always been clear that the Rainbow troops meant a lot to Chavez. It was rather endearing to hear him talk about them so passionately, though he would never tell him that. "I hear you, Domingo," he said calmly. "I really do."

Ding frowned, relaxing a little in his seat. "Then why the big fuss over this? No one died. We got him back."

"Has it ever occurred to you that I feel the same way you feel about our people? That I care about them just as much as you do?" Ding's expression changed to one of slight surprise, but Clark continued before he could say anything. "According to those analysts, I could have lost all of you when you ignored those orders. So forgive me for trying to find a way to avoid that."

They sat in uncertain silence for a while Clark waited for a response. It was evident that, no, the young man in front of him hadn't really thought of that, and he had deflated a little at the fact. Of course Clark cared just as much, if not more; he was the leader, the Rainbow Six. Finally, Chavez looked him in the eye. "Okay. I mean, yeah. Of course you do. But if you really think this is a problem, what would you suggest?"

Clark shrugged. "Beats me. Don't get captured?"

Ding laughed, a welcome sound in the midst of this turmoil. "Easy enough, I guess."

"Not so easy for Weber, apparently. Maybe I should remind him."

His chuckles died down and he sighed heavily, wiping his face with his hands. "Fuck, man. Those guys really mean business. Dieter's made of steel, and you saw how he was when he came back."

Clark simply nodded. The Global Liberation Front was strong, organized, ruthless. Had it been someone else who'd been captured and tortured as Weber had been, he thought, he might instead be scheduling facial reconstruction surgery, or at the worst, making funeral arrangements. "They're tough," he said, not admitting anything further lest he drain Chavez's morale. "But they're not prepared to make a move in some time. That gives us time to plan."

"I hope your intel's right this time," Chavez said with a wry face, clearly making a jab at NATO.

"Relax. It's from our people, Ding, not NATO's. Speaking of our people, we should probably check on them. You pulled off one hell of a job, son," he said, clapping a hand on his son-in-law's shoulder. "Though I suggest you apologize to Tawney before you go. He wasn't exactly appreciative of the way you spoke to him on the phone."

Ding rubbed his neck sheepishly. "Uh. Yeah. Sorry. I wasn't really in the mood for that bullshit."

"Bring that up with him," Clark said as they left the office. "I've got soldiers to congratulate."

-0-

"You don't need to do that." Weber tried to push her hand away, but she faked and he missed completely as she assailed his face with a cotton cloth doused with iodine. "Yana."

She didn't stop dabbing at the cuts on his brow. "What?"

"I'll be fine."

"Yes, you will," she said.

She disposed of the cloth and began reaching for another one. Weber grabbed her shoulders before she could. "Ayana. Really. Most of the things that need healing aren't on my face. You will just be wasting materials now."

Yacoby stared at him with hard eyes. "Listen to me, okay? The GLF doesn't fuck around. We've seen what they do to innocent people. We're hardly innocents ourselves, and then they got you. And to think about what they might have done to you, I..." She trailed off.

"Yana..."

"Let me have this, okay? Just one more."

Weber blinked. "All right, Schätzchen. But just one."

Yacoby grinned devilishly, grabbing the cloth, and Weber sighed. No wonder it was always said that losing an argument with a woman was inevitable. She took his face in her hand, tilting his head up so she could dab at a cut on his lip. Weber waited patiently as she finished cleaning it and disposed of the cotton in a secure bag. Then she turned to him, hands on her hips.

"Happy now?" he asked her, smirking.

"Satisfied," she answered. "You really feeling okay?"

"Yes. I'm fine." He tested his jaw. "I may have to refrain from smiling too widely with this side of my face, however."

"That's too bad. You look good when you smile."

"Even now?" he asked as he raised his arms to indicate the white and green checkered hospital gown he was currently wearing.

"Even now," she confirmed. "It's crazy. You even make those ugly things look bearable."

He laughed. "Given what this looks like, I'd say that's the kindest thing I've heard all day." It certainly was a horrendous print.

She grinned. "Bet you'd look even better out of it."

An involuntary shiver ran down his spine as his brain processed the words. He stood, wincing inwardly at the pain though he did his best to hide it. At six feet three inches, he towered over mostly everyone, Yacoby included, though that never seemed to faze her. "Are you sure about that?" he said, one hand on her waist and the other taking her cheek. "I have many bruises."

He leaned down slowly. She was looking up to see him now. "Why don't we try it and see?"

"Heh. This is a hospital."

"So? I'm not seeing the problem." Their noses were just about touching now.

Weber smiled. "Is that so?"

"Yeah. The only problem I can see is you."

His lips hovered above hers, lightly brushing her mouth. "Problems are for solving, Schätzchen."

"That they are," she murmured, and for a long while after that, no words were spoken.

-0-

a/n I had never seen the Lockdown cutscenes before. Apparently Weber and Yacoby have a thing for each other.

The term "Schätzchen" is a diminutive of a popular German term of endearment, "Schatz," which literally translates to "treasure."

Part two coming in the next week or so. Leave a review if you like it. Thanks for reading.