Clay sits at the bar, a tumbler of whiskey is his hands. It's his third for the night, more alcohol than he's had in the last nine weeks combined. He stares down into the amber liquid like it has all the answers. So far, none have surfaced. These last few days, even these last few hours, have given him a lot to think about. His meeting with Harrington didn't go as planned. The man was on his side ... until a point. Swanny deserved to be awarded the Purple Heart; what he did, what they've all done, was nothing short of courageous. No one was willing to help Swanny while he was alive. Clay refused to be added to that list now that the man was dead.

Taking another sip of whiskey, Clay sighs. Was he ready to torpedo his career, hell his whole life, for the man? The doctor had said it, he was on track for returning to the team. His body was healing, sensation was coming back in his leg, every day tasks were becoming easier. Clay was getting better, almost back. One wrong slip up and his dream would be lost to him forever. Harrington had clearly warned him. If he ran with this, it would mean the end of his life on the teams.

No one internally was willing to help him though. Our hands are tied, they told him. Swanny didn't report an injury that was responsible, in the end, for claiming his life. They couldn't help him. Clay's only option was to seek help elsewhere, to go big and get everyone's attention. The phone call still left a bitter taste in his mouth and he's still not sure he's doing the right thing. He glances at the backpack sitting on the stool beside him. Inside he's got Swanny's binder packed with every piece of information he'd researched on his TBI and his treatment plans from the VA. He's also go Swanny's medical file and his laptop with his video entries. Everything he needs to prove his point, including Swanny's last plea before he took his own life.

"This seat taken?"

Clay drags his eyes away from the backpack, looking up at the man standing just behind the stool. Ash Spencer ... in the flesh. Clay blows out an unsteady breath and pushes to his feet. He grabs his cane and limps the few steps it takes to stand in front of his father. He's a bit unsteady on his feet from the alcohol and the stress he's put his body through the last few days, shoulder's slumped, putting more weight on his cane than normal. It's not how he wanted to face Ash again, but it's the best he can do at the moment.

"Hey Ash. Thanks for coming," Clay greets, holding his hand out.

Ash's eyes are immediately drawn to the cane and Clay's limp. It takes him a moment, but he slowly drags his gaze away to meet Clay's eyes. Ash looks ... shocked to say the least, and Ash Spencer isn't a man easily shocked into silence. Belatedly, he reaches out and shakes Clay's hand. The moment their hands touch though, Ash is pulling him in for a quick hug. When he steps back, his eyes sweep over Clay again.

"What happened?" Ash asks, one hand lingering on Clay's shoulder for a moment before he slowly lets go.

"Long story," is all Clay answers before turning back to the bar. He slings the backpack over his shoulder and grabs his drink before he limps over to a table in the far corner.

Ash follows at a more sedate pace, keeping a few steps behind Clay, eyes roving over the kid constantly, trying to take in every detail he can. Once Clay is seated, Ash slides into the booth across from him. He flags down a waitress nearby and orders a drink. When she is safely out of earshot, Ash turns to face Clay again.

"So you gonna tell me what this is all about?" Ash asks curiously. "I know you didn't go to all this trouble just to have a drink with your old man."

Clay huffs out a humorless laugh. It's the truth and Ash knows it. Clay called his father from a burner phone, asked to meet a bar lightyears away from any military bars in the middle of a weekday. This was as close to flying under the radar as they could get. Ash was PNG, but even he wasn't worth this kind of trouble.

"You know Brett Swann?" Clay asks, finally breaking the tense silence that had fallen between them.

Ash frowns, but nods. "Yeah. Went through BUD/s and Green Team together. Ended up on different teams, but we were in the same circles." A real smile flits over Ash's face, caught in a memory. "He's a true born operator and one tough son of a bitch. You can learn a lot from him."

"Yeah," Clay breathes. "I did."

"Did?" Ash sobers up quickly. He pauses as the waitress bring his beer to the table. Once she is out of range he continues, concern coloring his voice. "Did something happen?"

Clay doesn't answer right away; he can't. He downs the rest of his whiskey, swallowing the burn along with the emotions that want to push to the surface. "He died. Killed himself a few days ago."

"Shit," Ash hisses, dropping his head. When he looks back up a moment later, he looks genuinely upset, an emotion Clay hasn't seen from his father in a very long time. It speaks volumes of the kind of guy Swanny was to evoke that kind of emotion from his normally stoic father. "What happened?"

"He shot himself," Clay clenches his fingers around the glass in front of him as the memory snaps to the front of his mind. "Put his revolver to his chest and pulled the trigger in his truck just outside the VA." Clay's voice hitches, barely making it through the statement. He can feel the telltale prickle in his eyes and blinks hard, refusing to shed a tear in front of his old man.

Ash shakes his head, processing the news. "How did you find out?"

Clay finally drags his eyes up from the empty glass in front of him to look at his father. "I'm the one that found his body."

"Shit, Clay," Ash starts to reach for his arm, but Clay pulls back, dropping his arms from the tabletop to his lap. If the move bothers Ash, he doesn't mention it. He just runs a hand through his hair instead. "I didn't know you were close with him. I'm sorry, son."

The apology sounds sincere and hits Clay unexpectedly. He'd been on the fence about bringing Ash into this. The man was a wild card, at best. Ash did what Ash wanted, what was best for him damn everyone else. Clay had been on the receiving end of the damning too many times in his life to count. Hell, it hadn't been all that long ago that Ash had put Clay in the line of fire, dropping Bravo mission details on national TV. Critical eyes had turned on him and Clay had been careful of every step he took since then to make sure to keep the heat off himself and Bravo.

Opening up to Ash now, giving him all the information could not only ignite that fire once again, but blow it up in his face. If anyone could get this out in the spotlight, though, it was definitely Ash Spencer. Clay hated to admit it, but his father could turn on the charm when he was on TV or when he was on his book tour, a charm that people were drawn to. He'd seen the way people hung on his every word, moved by whatever he was telling them. If anyone could put pressure on the Navy to change their handling of TBIs and to get Swanny his Purple Heart, it would come at the silver tongue of Ash Spencer on national TV. As bad as this could turn out for Clay, Harrington's warning of a court martial still ringing in his ears, Swanny deserves this. All the men and women in their line of work deserve better. If this is going to be the end of him, Clay's glad this is the hill he's going to die on.

"I met him before deployment, let him crash at my apartment while I was away," Clay finally tells his father. He rests one hand on the backpack next to him, a steady reassurance that it's still there. "He stayed and helped me after ... everything." Clay vaguely motions to his legs, glossing over the details. He's not ready to go all in yet with Ash, afraid of were it will leave them. "He was a good guy."

"Yeah he was," Ash answers. He's studying Clay, watching for anything that will give him a clue why they are sitting here, but Clay reveals nothing. "Never thought he was the type."

Clay just shakes his head for a moment. Ash didn't know anything about Swanny's struggles over the last few years. Hell, he doubted anyone really knew the depth of them except for Clay and his doctors. Swanny was a private guy and kept all his issues as close to the vest as he could. No one could've seen it coming because he's not even sure Swanny saw it coming until the very end.

"He was dealing with some things," Clay offers quietly.

"Like what?" Ash asks sharply. "Drugs? Alcohol? Depression?"

"A Traumatic Brain Injury."

Ash's mouth snaps shut, a dumbfounded look on his face as he stares at Clay. "A brain injury? He didn't get treatment?"

Instead of answering, Clay unzips the backpack and pulls out Swanny's binder. He hesitates for a moment, staring at Ash, trying to judge his conviction. He seems curious, concerned even, about what happened to Swanny. He doesn't look like he's digging for information to use later, or a soundbite that'll be helpful during an interview. Ash seems ... sincere. Taking a deep breath, Clay slides the binder across the table.

It's one thing for Clay to tell Ash everything that happened, everything that Brett went through. It's another thing for him to see it in black and white, to read the words on the page at just how useless and ineffectual everyone was in treating Swanny. Clay wants him to see the piles of pills they had Swanny ingesting on a daily basis. The infrequent and too short visits. The denial for an MRI after the mounting evidence pointing to a neurological problem, not a psychiatric one. Clay wants Ash to read it all and finally have someone else realize the hell Swanny had been going through before he finally collapsed under all the pressure.

When Ash looks back up at him several minutes later, there's a horrified look in his eyes that Clay's never seen. There's a fear there that Clay can feel in his own chest, the thought of what if this happens to me. It's not like it's not a possibility. As operators, they are the tip of the spear, going places where others can't or won't. They've all been too close to an explosion, more than once. That was just part of the job. Now though, it has a whole new meaning for them.

"I don't understand," Ash finally tells him, eyes darting back down to the pages in front of him. "They wouldn't test for it because he never reported it?"

"Yeah, that's the policy. It needs to change," Clay tells his father. "I had my doctor check my file. They never indicated any sort of head injury after the blast that got me sent back stateside. And as soon as I mentioned it, the doctor went nuclear."

"Jesus," Ash mutters. "Fucking politics."

"People know it needs to change, but no one is willing to step up to do it," Clay sighs, hands clenching tight around the bag. This is it, this is the moment it's either going to work or it's all going to go to hell real quick. "That's why I asked you here."

It takes a moment, but realization dawns on Ash's face.

"If I go public with it," Clay plows on before Ash can get a word in edgewise. "I'll be facing disciplinary action and a court-martial, I'll be off the teams."

"But if already PNG'ed Ash Spencer does it," Ash interjects, voice a bit sharp. "No one will bat an eyelash. That about right?"

Clay swallows thickly before nodding his head. Yeah, that about sums it up. Ash Spencer has made a second career out of pissing off the Navy it seems. First with his book and then with the constant interviews and popping up on national TV. He'd really made his mark with the Bravo mission details he none-to-subtly dealt several months ago. Really, he tee'd himself up quite nicely for this, Clay thinks. Despite his father's constant need to thumb his nose at the very institution that gave him the platform for his fame, Clay's afraid he may have taken it one step too far.

"Swanny's story needs to be told," Clay presses, not willing to give up the fight. "I refuse to be another person that sits by and watches this happen. If I have to do it myself, I will."

"Easy now, kid," Ash holds his hands up to placate him. Much to his surprise, Ash's tense posture slowly melts away, the scowl sharpening the lines on his face ease out into a sad smile. "I'm with you. I get it."

Ash sighs, looking back down at the binder of information, a contemplative look on his face. "By me doing this, I can give you some plausible deniability. The Navy isn't stupid though, they'll suspect you were involved. You could still end up taking some of the heat for this. You okay with that?"

"I am." Clay states with conviction. No matter what comes next for him, he will never regret stepping up for a brother. "They'll have a hard time proving it was me."

Ash chuckles. "Hence the burner phone and the bar in the middle of nowhere."

Clay's not sure if that means his father is in or not. He's hesitant to ask either for fear of the answer. It takes a minute, but eventually Ash nods his head.

"I have some interviews scheduled over the few weeks, but we're gonna need more than this binder to get any traction," Ash tells him.

With one last look at the backpack sitting next to him, Clay pulls it up from the bench and sets it on the table in between them. "Swanny's complete medical file from the VA is in here. So is his laptop. He recorded video diaries during his treatment and his final message."

Ash nods, a sad smile on his face. "That'll work."

Clay slowly releases his grip on the back, relinquishing it to his father. "I want to get Swanny a Purple Heart," Clay finally admits quietly. "He deserves it. His story needs to be told so that things can change."

"You can trust me with this, Clay," Ash assures him. "I've got this."

Clay doesn't hear from his father again, not that he expected to. It leaves him in limbo though, unsure of where to go or what to do now that the mission has been passed along. He can't put it out of his mind, but he does his best to push it to the back so he can focus on the road in front of him. He goes to therapy and makes progress. Bravo comes home from deployment. Life moves on.

Clay is sitting in a camp chair in Jason's backyard when his phone buzzes. He slides the phone out of his pocket, surprised to see a message from his father.

'The interview I did for CNN about my upcoming book is airing tonight at 1900. You should watch it.'

Clay glances at his watch and realizes it almost that time. Pushing his body up from the chair, he makes a quiet excuse to Lisa and Sonny and shuffles his way inside.

He drops down on the couch, turning on the TV. The show is going through its opening credits when Sonny and Jason walk in. Jason looks at him curiously, but it's Sonny that actually asks the question.

"What're ya doing, Blondie? We not enough enough entertainment for ya?"

"Just needed to see something," Clay mutters, watching as the words flash across the screen "with special guest Ash Spencer".

Jason sits on the couch next to Clay, taking the remote from him. For a moment Clay thinks he's going to turn the TV off. Instead, Jason turns up the volume. He gives Clay a small nod. He must understand, on some level, that this is important to Clay. He may not understand why exactly, but he's willing to give Clay the benefit of the doubt.

For a few minutes, it's just introductions and random talk show small talk. Clay can feel the tension creeping into his muscles with each passing moment. Anxiety is making his heart flutter in his chest. Sonny drops down on the couch on the other side of him. He drapes his arm around Clay's shoulders in a show of support. It also serves to force him to lean back and relax into the couch. When Clay is as relaxed as he's going to get, Sonny kicks his feet up on the coffee table, turning his attention back to the television.

Their absence draws attention and soon enough, Trent is wandering into the room. He takes one look at the three on the couch and shrugs, kicking back in one of the chairs. Brock and Ray appear moments later. And soon enough, everyone from their outside barbecue has moved inside, gathering in the living room.

When Ash Spencer appears, Clay tenses up again. Jason settles a hand on his jumpy knee and gives it a subtle squeeze. Clay doesn't acknowledge the move, eyes laser focused on the screen as the pretty blonde host starts talking about Ash's upcoming book.

"The long awaited release for your second book is almost here," the host says with a smile. "We're all excited to get our hands on it. This one, however, has more of an emotional quality than your first book. Can you tell us about that?"

"Yeah, this book is about the untold parts of being a SEAL. It's not all kicking in doors and taking down terrorists," Ash flashes the host a smile, the one Clay knows as his fake, public one.

"So what's it about then?"

"It's about the hard times we go through, about our losses," Ash tells her, fake smiling fading into a look Clay recognizes from the bar, the genuine sadness that had come over his father's face when he learned about Swanny's death.

"Any loss in particular?"

Ash runs a hand over his face with a sigh. "Yeah, actually. It's not in the book, but I just lost a brother recently."

"I'm so sorry," the host reaches out a hand and lays it on Ash's arm.

"It wasn't to a bomb or a bullet from an enemy. It was by his own hand." Ash presses his lips together for a moment to gather his composure before he goes on. "He was a guy I came up in the teams with, a real operator. His name was Brett Swann."

Clay can feel all the eyes in the room turn to him, but he can't tear his focus away from the television. This is it. He takes a deep breath in sync with his father on screen.

"His death is a tragedy that is being ignored," Ash continues, voice somber. "He, like many of the men and women in our military, suffered from a traumatic brain injury. Or at least that's what he suspected was the problem."

"Suspected?" The host parrots. "He didn't know for sure?"

"There in lies the problem. Brett couldn't get the help he needed because he never reported a head injury. And because it was never reported, the VA didn't get him the tests he needed. The thing is, most of us have suffered some type of head injury in the field that never goes reported. We're on a mission. Unless we lose consciousness, we keep going until the mission is complete. We are trained to be mentally harder and physically stronger, we don't stop unless something makes us stop.

"Brett suffered for a while, his condition worsening. He knew it, knew something was wrong. He went to the VA for help, but instead they just gave him medicine to treat his symptoms. In the end, he chose to take his life, his final plea was for his brain to be studied in the hopes that it would help treat others in the future."

The host wipes a tear off her cheek. "That's heart breaking."

"It is. People hear the statistics all the time on veteran suicide, but many don't understand the reason behind it. They assume PTSD or depression, but sometimes it's not. In Swann's case, his brain was deteriorating. These are our country's heroes, the men and women that put their lives on the line every day in our defense. They deserve better. Brett Swann died because of our failure as a country," Ash states, an edge of anger to his voice. "We need to better. We have to do better."

The host gives Ash's hand a squeeze. "I think you've given us all a lot to think about. Thank you for being here with us, Ash."

"Thank you for letting me tell my brother's story," Ash gives her a nod and smile.

"We'll be back after these commercials."

On screen, Swanny's image appears, a picture of him in full gear and grinning from ear to ear in the desert. A banner appears across the bottom, 'In Honor of Master Chief Brett Swann, 1957-2019'.

Clay feels the breath rush out of his chest all at once. He slumps forward, dropping his head into his hands as he hunches over his knees. It's done. The first step to change in honor Swanny was complete. He would never give up the fight for Swanny, but whatever happened now, whatever came from Ash's interview was out of his hands.

A hand settles in the middle of his back and when he looks up, he's surprised to see tears in Jason's eyes. Glancing around the room, he can see that everyone is struggling to contain their emotions. Sonny drags a hand over his face before pulling the kid close to his side in a brief hug.

"I'm sorry, Jace," Clay starts. He's not sure what's going through his team leader's mind, but he knows that he stepped way out of line on this one. He put himself and the team in danger by turning over that information to Ash. He doesn't regret it though. He's willing to take whatever heat comes his way because Swanny was worth it; all his brothers and sisters in arms were worth it.

Jason just shakes his head. "You did good, kid."

Around the room, everyone is echoing the team leaders sentiment. Clay's clearly confused. He expected the team to be mad at him for this, not proud. Jason gives his back a pat.

"I don't know if it will change anything, Clay," Jason tells him. "But you did what needed to be done. You got Swanny's story out there and got the attention of the country focused on the VA and how our vets are treated. I'm not sure if it'll make a difference, but it's a step in the right direction."