Disclaimer: I do not own The Night Shift.
Author's Note: This story basically starts near the end of Season 4, episode 2 (Off the Rails). It is a slight AU, however: the events in Syria take place before the simultaneous events back home (in this story), which means the events of the wildfire and Mac have not happened yet, which also means Topher did not get into an accident and die. I wanted Topher alive for this story.
Summary: Instead of staying in Syria TC decides to leave with Syd and go home. Injured and exhausted, the two have quite a story to tell to those at home. Naturally, contains some TC whump, a little angst, and general team bonding. May continue on as an AU from there!
Homeward Bound
In a way, it felt good to be going home. His body was simply exhausted. Days of running around, trying to survive, dehydration had taken its toll. Now that their lives were no longer in danger he could practically feel his body shifting from defensive mode to restful, the adrenaline and endorphines that had been pumping through his veins stopping. Which meant all the aches and pains were returning, and as the chopper lifted off, he shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He had been pumped full of antibiotics before they had released him, but he had refused painkillers mainly out of stubbornness. His wounds had been treated minimally, enough to stop the bleeding and make sure he wasn't in imminent danger of a brain bleed, since he wanted to make it back on the monthly transport.
"You okay?" Syd asked, noticing his shifting, probably well aware he had not taken anything for the pain.
"I think I'm finally ready to go home," he said, honestly. He wasn't sure, when he had been kicked out of the army after Afghanistan, that he had been ready to come home. And perhaps his actions preceding this trip had been evidence of that. But now he just wanted to go home, see his friends, maybe talk to and apologize to Drew after the way things had gone down before he left. He wasn't so sure about that part.
He managed to doze off for a bit, resting his pounding head and getting some much needed sleep. It wouldn't do much good for him to get home and immediately pass out from exhaustion. It was pain in his shoulder that woke him as the helicopter jolted when it landed, jerking him awake. The bullet wound seemed to be sizzling in its pain, hot and swollen. Not wanting to be tied up too long on the operations base he put on his best poker face and exited the helicopter, carefully avoiding any motion that would jar the shoulder. A few people glanced at them, two people covered in dust and in his case, a little dried blood, before looking back at what they were doing.
"So I guess we're not going to be waiting around," Syd said from behind him. He looked back, realizing he had been determinedly heading straight towards the airport base so he could leave as soon as there was a flight available.
"You don't have to join me right away if you don't want to," he said, realizing his voice sounded slightly hoarse. "I've just got some stuff to take care of at home... the sooner I get there, the better," he added. A moment later he realized she had been teasing him when she started to laugh.
"I want to get out of here as soon as possible," she said. "But I think you should sit down for a bit before you drop."
TC wasn't aware that his face was pale and sweaty but he had been feeling a little shaky. "I'm just tired," he said. It wasn't a total lie. He was still exhausted, but the pain that was burning a trail down his arm from his shoulder and raking at his chest was starting to eat at him. She clearly didn't believe him and merely raised an eyebrow, but he turned and kept walking. At the very least they'd get under the shelter of a tent and the heat would stop baking his skin.
By the time he got there he decided perhaps he should have taken Syd's advice. His head was spinning, ears ringing, and his vision was tunneling down into a very small area. Fortunately Syd had grabbed his arm and directed him into a nearby chair, and he sat there, half dozing, while she got some information about getting to a nearby civilian airport that could get them to Texas.
"Hey." He flinched awake, realizing he had actually fallen asleep again. For a moment he had forgotten where he was, and simply looked confused, and she must have seen it. "We're at a military base in Turkey. They're sending some troops home to Texas in the morning, we got here at the right time," she added when his frazzled brain cells kicked in and began to function again. He felt a hint of relief, glad they didn't have to wait a week, or longer, before they could find a flight home.
"That's good," he said, trying to break free from the drowsiness. Now they just had to wait for morning, and the sun was barely just starting to set. He'd get some sleep at least, and without any interest in moving he would be perfectly happy to sleep in this chair. Stiff neck or not.
"There are some spare cots over there," Syd interrupted his plan, staring at him with a look that suggested he didn't argue. "It would be far more comfortable, wouldn't it?"
He raised his good shoulder in a half a shrug as he rose from his chair, trying to stand without wobbling. He was only half successful - he stood, but he still swayed slightly. Fatigue, injuries, a possible concussion from at least one of his head blows. He just wanted to lay down and rest, at least for a little while, and hopefully feel better in the morning. He followed Syd, and making no effort to undress - not that his shoulder would have allowed him anyway - he simply lay down and fell asleep.
When morning came, all too soon, it brought with it the sounds of many boots marching, which is what pulled him awake. Fortunately the pain in his shoulder had dulled into a minor ache, although it would eventually wake back up into its full blast once he started to move. For awhile he simply lay there, listening, remembering. He was once a soldier too, although he hadn't been much of a marcher, always finding it to be a rather tedious thing. Would he have been stuck on a tour to Syria if he hadn't been kicked out of the army? He wondered how his life would have played out that way. He may or may not have been called into another tour, depending on the orders. But had he stayed, he wondered just how many patients would not be alive now. And that thought made all his worries about his life as a Ranger vanish. Saving people was more than enough.
"Coffee?" Syd asked.
He opened his eyes, looking up. She was already up and probably had been for awhile. He could see the bruises on the side of her face from the initial blast at the refugee site. His own face felt hot on one side from the swelling and pain, but it could be worse.
"Yeah, sure," he said, sitting up carefully. As suspected, his shoulder flared up with pain.
"I could get you some painkillers," she suggested after his failed attempt to hide the obvious pain he was in. Not just his shoulder now, but his abdominal region from where the soldiers had struck him during the struggle, and a few more bruises from the blasts and subsequent rubble.
"I need a clear head," he responded stubbornly, forcing himself to stand even as the stiffness in his legs tried to stop him.
"For what? You're going to be asleep for that entire plane ride." His glare was hardly effective since he could only open one eye, but it didn't stop him from trying. He grumbled, grabbed a cup of coffee, and drank it. It wasn't the best coffee around but it was hot and strong, and quenched that burning thirst in the back of his throat. He could see soldiers marching, heading towards the airport, and thought nothing of it until Syd spoke.
"We'd better join them if we want to make our plane."
Nearly choking on his coffee he turned to look at her. "Why didn't you wake me sooner?" She arched her eyebrows, looking quizzically at him.
"I did, and you kept falling back asleep."
He didn't remember that. He pushed that worry away. It was just his body healing and it was taking up a lot of his energy. They both hurried up and boarded the plane, and he took one last look at the burning desert. This time, he was glad to be leaving.
Although he would try to deny it all he could, she was right. He had slept for nearly the entire plane ride, only waking up on occasion when a bout of turbulence caused his body to flare up with pain. He sipped at water in those breaks, but mostly he simply remained in a dreamless sleep, or if there were any dreams, he didn't remember them by the time he woke up.
When they arrived in Texas it was just morning in the time zone, which meant having slept wasn't too much of a bad idea. It would be a long time before he was able to work the night shift again anyway, and at least now the jet lag wouldn't be overwhelming. Stretching to work out any kinks he could, and wincing at the pain it caused, he descended the plane, squinting in the morning sun. It was far cooler here, still warm by some people's standards, but much more comfortable to him. The stale air was familiar, almost comforting, as was the signs of everyday people and familiar sites.
Stifling one last yawn, he and Syd temporarily parted ways to deal with their own personal things. He went to his home, unlocking it for the first time in weeks, and made sure no unwanted vermin had made it their home while he had been away. Then he peeled off dirty clothes and checked over his own injuries to make sure nothing was bad. His shoulder was still hot and noticeably swollen, but had no discharge to warn him of any infection. His face was seriously bruised on one side, and the closest eyelid was swollen shut. He had lacerations over the bruises, and he washed them off again since they had collected a bit of dust and dirt just from the journey home. There was a smaller patch of bruising on the other side of his head, but it wasn't too painful and didn't interfere with his sight. The bruising on his abdomen was purple and green, tender to the touch. His back and shoulders had taken a few hits, mostly when he was thrown through the air after the missile strike. And his hand itched. It had been creeping up on him, slowly. A few moments on the plane he had thought he felt tingling where the nail had been embedded in his palm, but had ignored it. Now it was definitely itching, and he moved the dressing he could see an ugly discharge from the wound.
He grimaced. The antibiotics were probably fighting invasions all around from his little trip, and he'd need a more topical one for this wound. Most likely the nail that had been ripped out of his hand had been rusty or otherwise pretty dirty and the hot climate only served to encourage an infection.
He would take care of everything when he visited the hospital later to check on his friends, and talk to those he had left on bitter terms with.
He took a hot shower, reveling in the feel of the good water pouring over his skin soothing his aches and pains while simultaneously aggravating his shoulder. He ate, he drank lots of water, and for a long time he found himself just sitting at the table, staring at nothing, relaxing. No bombs going off. No shots being fired. No people screaming and crying in agony and sickness, desperate for help. No one yelling at him or pitching fights.
Last time it had been unnerving. This time, however, it was comforting.
And when night began to roll around and Syd arrived to check and make sure he was still conscious they both headed to the hospital to speak to their friends they had left behind.
End chapter note: I hope the time breaks weren't too confusing! I didn't want to have too many broken up sections which I usually leave for POV shifts, but if you'd like that, just let me know in the reviews! I apologize if this chapter was a bit disjointed, I just wanted to get them hope as quickly as possible and then have them go to the hospital and see people starting in the next chapter! Let me know if there's anything in particular you'd like to see and I'll see what I can do! I also am aware that Syd has a daughter and would be wanting to visit her but for this small section of the story she'll be visiting people in the hospital. By next chapter she'll likely be gone though!