Author's Note: Hello, hello. Got another hurt Adam story here. It's got a bit of language and mentions of injuries, so fair warning about that. And I hope to post chapters at reasonable intervals so ya'll don't have to wait too long. Anyway, hope ya enjoy.

Chapter One

"Top, you've got to get out of there."

Adam was running with everything he had.

To be fair, he hadn't known it would be a bomb. All they knew was that there was a threat, but intel hadn't been able to narrow down what it actually was. There had been speculation, but nothing solid. So, worried about what could be waiting inside the building, he'd ordered his team to evacuate any occupants, opting to search for the problem alone.

As it turned out, it was a bomb.

And by the time Adam found it, the timer had run down to almost nothing. There wasn't enough time to diffuse it. He tried at first, but looking at the timer, he knew there was no way. So he ran.

"Just get everyone out. Get out," he huffed. He was sprinting as fast as he could, but he knew it wouldn't be enough. There were only seconds, and he wasn't even at the stairwell.

Counting in his head, he knew time had run out. He shut his eyes, dreading the inevitable.

And the world became a tangled knot of fire and force.

His feet left the ground as the blast screamed through the building. One second, he was flying through the air; the next, he was pummeled by debris and falling. Falling with the rest of the building.

His skull cracked against something, and then it was just black.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

Little by little, he became more aware. His ears rang, his body ached . . . and with every agonizing breath, dust seemed to invade his lungs.

He coughed harshly, groaning when sharp pain lanced through his body. He could feel it all over. His head, his shoulder, his abdomen, his leg, his arm . . . It felt like nothing was left untouched.

"Top?"

He blinked harshly in the dark, hardly able to see his surroundings.

"Amir?" he rasped, coughing more of the dust out of his lungs.

"Shit, Top, we thought we lost you." He knew that one. McG. Yeah, it was McG. "Command said they couldn't see anything through your bodycam."

He offered a grunt of acknowledgement, still trying to absorb his surroundings through the unrelenting ache. He felt like he was lying on a lumpy pile of rubble, large rocks digging into his back. He shifted a little, then stopped at the sharp pain sparking all over his body. He gritted his teeth to keep from yelling, not sure if he wanted to alarm his team just yet.

"You still in one piece?" McG asked, trying to keep it lighthearted.

Adam reached his left hand over to his throbbing shoulder to probe for an injury. He paused. Something bumpy and thin protruded from his shoulder. His mind raced to identify it.

Then it clicked.

Rebar.

Taking a deep breath, he followed the rebar down until he hit something, clenching his jaw when his fingers met torn flesh.

"Yeah, mostly," he answered casually, doing his best to keep the discomfort out of his voice. Taking a deep breath, he moved his hand down to his abdomen, finding another piece of rebar through his side.

"Mostly?"

For a minute, Adam didn't answer. He carefully took stock of his body, quickly narrowing down the general pain to heightened spikes of agony. His shoulder, his side . . . his arm . . . his leg. Adam gingerly reached over to his other arm. More rebar, right through his forearm. He swallowed down his worry. Thinking of the ache in his leg, he suspected that three pieces of rebar wasn't enough.

"Nothing to worry about," he lied, still unsure if he wanted his team to know. They'd panic; they always did. They buried it under professional determination, but they still panicked. And they didn't need the extra stress right now, especially if other people needed their help.

He reached for his leg, fearfully clawing at the limb. Fortunately, he was lying in a sort of half-seated position, so the reach wasn't so far, but it wasn't painless. His torso ached as he stretched. His hand clamped around more rebar, the minor movement sending shocks of pain through his thigh. He breathed through it, shutting his eyes against the ache.

"Good to hear. Look, rescue team's already here, so just sit tight and we'll get you out of there," McG reported, a breath of relief in his voice. Adam almost felt guilty. But he didn't exactly lie. He was mostly intact. And for now, there was no reason to send them into a fit of concern.

But he didn't know how long the rebar was. It could be problematic if they try to move the rubble around him and somehow jostle the metal.

Adam stopped for a minute, breathing deeply as he took stock of the rest of his body. His chest hurt, though it was muffled by the pain from his deeper wounds. Possibly cracked ribs. And he had a headache. Probably got knocked out in the explosion. Wouldn't be a surprise.

His body felt like one big bruise. Painfully, he turned off his comm, giving himself a moment of private silence. He reached for his leg again, his ribs protesting angrily. He growled as he pushed further, fingers finally finding the offending wound. More torn flesh. Blood. Exposed nerves.

He cried out in pain, resting back on the pile of rubble. Sweat was already beading on his forehead, a stubborn stone digging into his kidney. It wasn't ideal, but it could've been worse. Still, moving was not an option.

He turned the comm back on.

"—op?"

Jaz this time. He squeezed his eyes shut, composing himself.

"I'm here," he muttered.

"The extraction team wants to know if you can see anything," she asked, her voice firm to hide her stress.

He opened his eyes, squinting into the darkness. "Not really. It's pretty dark here."

"Okay. It's probably best that you don't move. Not sure if it's stable."

"Got it," he answered breathlessly, looking to the unseeable ceiling. Hell, it felt like the pain was getting worse.

"How're you holding up?"

For a second, he wondered if he should tell her. Tell her that rebar had used him as a pin cushion. Maybe warn her that moving debris could shift the rebar, causing more injury. But then he thought better of it. Maybe he could tell Preach or Patricia. Privately. Not Jaz.

"Fine. I'm fine."

There was silence on the other end, as though she was suspicious.

"Are you telling the truth?"

"I'm fine, Jaz." Adam answered a little too quickly, but he was on edge. He was still trying to find a way to gently break it to his team.

"If you're injured, we have to know."

Not yet, he wanted to say. Just take the peace for a little longer. "Let it go, Jaz." He coughed away more dust, his chest aching as he wheezed.

"That didn't sound good."

Adam squeezed his eyes shut, resting his good arm over his chest. "It's just dusty down here." He coughed again, his ribs screaming in protest. He couldn't bite back the groan in time.

"Top, tell us what's wrong."

Shit, everything hurt. He could feel the rebar pressing on ripped nerves as he involuntarily shifted with each cough.

"Dalton, what's going on?" Patricia demanded. She'd been quiet up until now, probably letting the team handle the situation on their own. The jig was up.

"First of all, it's not as bad as it sounds."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Jaz demanded, angry and worried.

"Top, what's happening with you, man?" McG seconded, a hint of terror in his voice.

He could risk keeping it to himself still. They'd worry, but maybe not as much as if he told them. But that seemed cruel.

McG sighed. "What's the damage?"

Adam took a deep breath, wincing at the ache in his ribs. "Minor head injury, bruised or cracked ribs, general bruising . . ." He paused, already dreading their reaction. "And four impaled objects."

He could almost hear the raw alarm on his comm. The anger. The concern. The helplessness. And he wished he could've kept it from them longer, if only for a little while.

"What are the impaled objects?" McG asked, all business.

"Rebar."

"Where?"

"Shoulder, arm, leg, and abdomen."

"Where in the abdomen?"

Adam sighed. "Upper right."

A loaded pause.

"How's the pain?"

He grimaced. "It is what it is."

"Top. How. Is. The. Pain?"

Adam shifted a little, regretting it immediately when the sharp aches spiked. He gritted his teeth. "Not great," he ground out.

"Okay. Don't you dare move, you hear me?"

"Wasn't planning on it." He coughed again, letting out a small grunt of pain. He was getting so tired, and it was hard to hold back when you were tired. The rebar burned, and the rocks at his back felt like they were digging in even deeper. His ribs throbbed heavily, reminding him just how much he'd been knocked around. And he was starting to feel a little out of it.

He pressed his fingers against his injured shoulder, looking to see just how far the wet patch of blood went. It wasn't looking good. If the other injuries were the same, he was losing a fair amount of blood.

"Top?"

Adam blinked away the fog, letting his hand linger on his shoulder. "Hm?"

After some hesitation, McG continued. "The rescue crew's going to ramp it up a little. We're going to get you out of there as fast as we can, okay?"

At first, Adam nodded. Then realizing McG couldn't see him, he answered, "Okay."

"Dalton."

The director still had her usual sharp tone, but there was a touch of worry. If he didn't know her so well, he wouldn't have heard it. "Yeah?"

"Can you shine some light in front of you? We need to see what's going on."

The bodycam. He'd forgotten about it.

For a moment, Adam wasn't sure how he could manage. The op was in the middle of the day, so they hadn't worn their headlamps or anything. Then he remembered the small flashlight he kept in one of his pockets in case he ever needed it. Problem was, it was in a pocket on his right thigh. Possibly the furthest away from his good arm.

"Uh, yeah. Give me a minute."

Taking a few deep breaths, he steeled himself for what was to come. He could've told her it was problematic. But Adam Dalton was never one to turn down a request from the deputy director.

With one last slow inhale, he reached his arm toward his right thigh, attempting to keep his torso as immobile as possible. Muscles stretched over aching ribs, pulling on them cruelly. He growled as he reached further, turning his one shoulder the slightest bit to try and open the pocket. The pain was almost unbearable. But he wouldn't give up now. Fingers clasped around the small metal cylinder, and he quickly pulled his arm back.

Huffing, he lay still, waiting for the fire in his ribs to die down. He blinked harshly, feeling sweat dripping down his face.

"Dalton?"

He forced his breaths to slow, trying to maintain control. "I'm here." Another few gulps of air. "Just give me a minute."

His eyes rolled up toward the ceiling. Adam gathered his focus, facing the task at hand.

The flashlight clicked on.

Obediently, he shined the light over him in front of the camera. His eyes throbbed against the bright white, but he did his best to blink away the discomfort.

It looked worse than he imagined.

Blood soaked his right side, probably starting to pool beneath him, and trails of crimson slid down each side of his injured arm. His leg . . . it didn't look any better. They couldn't see his shoulder, but it wouldn't be hard for them to imagine it with what they were already looking at.

"Sergeant McGuire, I'm going to send the feed to you. Be ready." Noah sounded shaken. He was all heart, and the kid wasn't very good at hiding it.

As they waited on the exchange, Adam took a minute to take in his surroundings. The beam of light moved from one side to the other, revealing precariously stacked debris. The good news: he'd somehow ended up in a small pocket in the rubble. The bad news: the tops of the rebar weren't visible. So moving debris could mean moving the rebar. It hurt just to think about.

And he was already starting to feel pretty dizzy.

"I've got the feed. Top, show me what's going on."

McG's voice cut through his thoughts, and he quickly moved his flashlight back down.

The medic sucked in a sharp breath through clenched teeth.

"Shit, Top. That's not great."

Adam's lightheadedness seemed to magnify as he craned his head to get a better look at his injuries. Overwhelmed, he laid back, closing his eyes. He was feeling worse by the minute, and who knew how long it would take to get him out. Eventually, he put his arm down at his side, too tired to hold the flashlight up any longer.

"Top? You still with me?"

"'M h're," he mumbled, willing the dizziness to go away.

"You can't go to sleep yet, buddy. You've got to stay awake."

"'S fine. Jus' dizzy."

"Don't pass out, Top," Jaz threatened, a cold fire behind her words. "Rescue's moving now. They've already cleared some of the debris and think they've pinpointed your location."

"S'nds great."

Something shifted above him, and he slowly peeled his eyes open. The rubble was moving, and a beam of light split the darkness. Something harshly bumped the rebar in his leg, ripping a cry of pain out of him.

"Top? You all right?"

He huffed against the fresh agony, his stomach twisting uncomfortably.

"S-something moved one of the rebar," he bit out, his body trembling.

"Shit."

He could hear shouting, and more of the broken concrete moved above him.

Then all hell broke loose. Debris shifted dramatically, jolting a few of the rebar.

And suddenly, a hefty block of concrete came loose and fell directly on Adam's left foot.

He felt bones snap.