So I wouldn't really say I'm a Jalton shipper. I mean, I think they're an interesting pairing, but I can't seem to find a way they would be together unless something were to happen. In my eyes, Jaz would never compromise her spot in the team, and Dalton has a position to fill as team leader. That said, there is something a bit enthralling about forbidden scenarios, and sometimes in the fan fiction land, you can explore them. So here we are.

Songs that inspired this fic: Who I Am With You by Chris Young, and Iris by The Goo Goo Dolls.

I'm going to let this first chapter speak for itself, and then I'll chat some more come the next one.

Also, my Brave muse is alive and flourishing, which is probably not good for my real life, but oh so good for fanfiction.

Enjoy. ;)

PeaceLoveJaz

And I'd give up forever to touch you

'Cause I know that you feel me somehow

It was as routine as it got with their team, the operation that changed everything. Until it wasn't, of course.

Jaz watched it unfold from her nest, finger poised on the trigger, waiting for an order when all hell broke loose. Even with her expertise, she was no match against a bomb they didn't know would go off. Hell, that the team didn't even know was even there. One second, she's waiting on the order from Dalton, the next the air is thick with smoke and she can smell fire. Amir, Dalton, and Preach were right near the impact zone. McGuire was off a bit further to the side.

It was eerily silent as the smoke thickened, then started to dissipate. Noah and Hannah were barking orders into the phone, while McGuire shouted for her to follow, while he tried to get to the others. Her heart raced, wondering what they would find. The team always managed to come out relatively unscathed. Sure, she was captured once, Preach had only been blown up several months back… but they survived. They always came out stronger.

This would be different.

Jaz got to the impact zone and saw the remains of a bomb scattered around her. It went off so abruptly she couldn't pinpoint where it came from. They were dealing with an extremist, one whose men had killed an undercover CIA agent that Noah knew back in his farm days who had been compromised, and they were there to extract information that was left behind in his safe house under an eye only they could find. Apparently, the men had left traces behind, too. If they couldn't have it, no one could.

The land before the house was in ruins. Had there been a trigger? Was someone watching them? Too many possibilities were assaulting her at once when she heard McG yell for her help. Preach was limping, but conscious, Amir bleeding from several shrapnel wounds, but standing… her heart sank into her stomach at the motionless man on the ground beside McGuire. Dalton wasn't moving.

BraveBraveBraveBraveBrave

"I'm not dead," Dalton murmured when he came to in the hospital nearly two weeks later, having been in a coma for that time. He, surrounded by the team, gave the team a weak smirk, trying to sit up and failing because of several broken ribs. "Fantastic."

"Good to see your eyes open again, Adam," Preach said appreciatively, coming forward first to gently clasp the man's shoulder. Despite the head wound he sustained, he'd also fractured his collar bone, broken three ribs, and dislocated his jaw. There were various shrapnel wounds, but every doctor that came into the room (And shit, Jaz thought, there were a lot of them) said he was more than blessed to not be missing any limbs. She didn't know if blessed was the word.

Dalton shimmed in his bed, clearly in pain but not willing to admit it. "How long was I out?" The team filled him in, and she saw the relief flood McG. He always took to injured team mates in a way that she knew was special. He was supposed to care for them when they got hurt. She saw it when Preach was injured months back, and had seen it for the last two weeks. Amir, on the other hand, prayed a lot. He also left the room, came into the room, paced, and then left again coming back with coffee minutes later. Rinse, repeat. She just sat there, haunted by the idea of Top not waking back up.

The doctors were hopeful from the beginning. McGuire translated the awful doctor speak, stating that his vitals were strong and his brain activity levels normal, but as each day passed and he sat in a state similar to Preach's, her panic grew. Almost losing Preach nearly killed her; she couldn't lose Dalton. She loved Preach, he was the closest thing to a father figure in her life, but Dalton was different. Their bond was different.

It couldn't happen.

"Where's Amir?"

"Getting coffee probably. Kid's been drinking more than probably healthy," Preach reasoned. "I'm sure he'll be back soon. How's the pain, Adam?"

Point one for Preach: he could tell Dalton was in pain. Point two: he used Top's first name so that he'd understand the answer was to be honest. And clearly, it annoyed Dalton.

"Tolerable."

"Fool," he said goodheartedly, hitting the page button so the doctors could come in. At the time, as Dalton scowled at his long time friend, she assumed everything would be alright. Everything in her CO's body would heal, and in a few months time, they'd be back on rotation and life would go on as normal.

Luck eventually ran out.

It started with what he said was just black spots in his vision. Dalton, much like herself and the others, was not one for rest, and was set on coming back as soon as possible. He worked himself tirelessly at the hospital gym, where Jaz would join him and they would work together. She'd seen him stop a time or two, blinking rapidly while holding weights, then shake his head and start again. She assumed he was over working it. If it was anything else, he'd clearly say it.

Spoiler alert: he didn't.

Two weeks after that, he wanted the team to run drills together that involved climbing a short wall as part of the course. The doctor had given him the okay to start working more strenuously, and he happily obliged. He and Amir were on the course and Dalton got a few prongs up before he paused. McG saw it first, but it was too late as something from their line of vision blocked and he collapsed onto the ground.

"TOP!"

Conscious but glassy-eyed, he was staring blankly at the wall before them.

"Top?"

"I got dizzy. I'm alright."

McG was staring at their CO like he was staring at a foreign object. Dalton hadn't moved. Wordlessly, the others around her all radiated concern and panic. As much as they didn't want to say it, they knew something was wrong. Seriously wrong.

Top was short with McG following his request to get checked out. There were several options for this: he was fine (obviously), he over worked himself (of course), he was kidding when he said McG was holding up four fingers (totally), and they were being overprotective and ridiculous (not them, no way). Secretly, she thought it was because she thought he knew deep down that things had changed and he wanted to place the blame of that on someone. The medic was an easy target.

And unfortunately correct.

There were several things to call it. She just wanted to call it bullshit.

Post-Concussion Syndrome. Then, Post Trauma Vertigo. Finally, angrily, Top had announced (with the entire team in the room), "So you're telling me I'm done."

"I'm very sorry," the military doctor stated, probably said many times over the course of his career.

Top stormed the room.

Jaz turned to McG. "The doctor said it might go away."

"Yes, but we're almost four months post injury. Top said it was getting worse."

"Treatment?" she almost pleaded.

"More than likely won't fix the damage." He took a deep breath and released it slowly. "We've all been in our fair share of explosions. Eventually, the damage can become permanent. Someone should go talk to him. Or at least not leave him alone."

Preach went to go, but Jaz held up her hand. "Let me."

Jaz found Top outside the hospital, burning holes into a wooded area. He was leaning against the wall, his arms crossed and legs firmly on the ground. From the outside, he looked absolutely fine. According to those with medical degrees, going back out there could kill him. Seemed more fitting than going to the civilian side of things, she couldn't help but think. She knew Dalton had activities he enjoyed during downtime, but he was a man who thrived leading a team. He thrived on adrenaline. And she knew he was too damn young to hang up the metaphorical boots.

"I would say that I don't want to hear a pep talk, but you're not Preach."

"I could try," she said lightly. "I mean, I would really suck at it, but…"

Dalton closed his eyes. "After nearly two decades in service, it all ends here."

"Its bullshit, I'm sorry."

He glanced her way, sighing, "There's nothing back there for me in the states. I got an house in the woods, but I'll be stir crazy in just months." He snorted. "The government will try to find a place for me. None of it matters, does it? It's not this. It's not this team." His breathing quickened and he looked away. "Fuck."

"We could get a second opinion, we could—"

Dalton's fist collided with the concrete wall. She watched as blood trickled through the small tears in his skin. He stared at it as if with curiosity.

Jaz had no idea what to say. She should've let Preach come out here. Dalton sank to the ground, staring at his mangled fist. She sat too, pulling napkins out of her pocket from breakfast that morning. She handed it to him, but he didn't budge. "Adam," she said softly.

He slowly tore his eyes away. There was something missing, the spark.

Her own anger flared for him.

She took her hand and covered his right fist with the napkin, then gave him a pitiful smile. Her hands were in his, if only for a second. He smiled too. Jaz knew every warning sign in the book was flashing, but she didn't care. Then McGuire and Amir's heads appeared near the door, like two lost puppies looking relieved. And then it was over.