It was time to get moving. Dalton's brain was clear on that fact, but try telling his body it at this exact moment. Lying where he had dropped for cover, he was finding the grass field absurdly comfortable as the relief of finding his team hidden in the kill box settled over him. The adrenaline that had propelled him as he fled from the Russian squad was fading and he was beginning to feel the last couple tumbles he took adding new aches and pains on top of his already banged up ribs.
McG and Preach hauled him up to a sitting position reigniting the sharp pains in his side and he tried unsuccessfully to hold back a groan. "Here, let me take a look at those before we set off" McG offered. He shook his head, the last thing he wanted right now was McGuire poking and prodding his ribs and besides they should get going. He was fairly confident that his team had taken out all those following him but there could still be some stragglers or other units entering the area that they needed to avoid. He was done with Spetzsnaz encounters for the day, thank you very much. "You want something for the pain?" McG offered, probably knowing the answer before he asked. He didn't seem surprised when Adam shook his head. "Alright, but it's gonna suck riding a horse with a busted up set of ribs" the medic added knowingly. Dalton snorted, always appreciating McGs way of telling it like it is. He also didn't find it at all hard to believe that McG was speaking from experience based on some of the stories McG had shared on their way in.
His amusement ended quickly as they pulled him all the way to his feet and his entire chest constricted in pain. He figured there were probably only 2-3 broken ribs from the couple good knee strikes the Russian had gotten in but at the moment it all blended together across his entire chest threatening to buckle his knees. "Sure you don't want to reconsider?" Preach asked, keeping a steadying hand under Daltons' arm until he was sure the man would stay upright. Dalton caught the slightly amused glances shared between his communications officer and medic. They appeared to be appreciating this moment after everything had come together and their leader was back and being predictively stubborn. It would have been hard on them hearing him under heavy contact and being unable to assist as they followed through on their part of the plan. Seeing them rise as one from the tall grass, he had never been more appreciative of being able to count them as his team. He wrapped his arm tightly across his chest, hoping to take some of the pressure off. "Your concern is touching" he said with as much dignity and sarcasm as he could muster while not two seconds ago being held upright. "All right let's move out".
Dalton was usually proud of his team's tight noise discipline. How silently they could move through all sorts of terrain and with all different types of equipment, able to hear the faintest abnormal sound from miles away. It had saved them on more than one mission, including earlier on this one. Right now though he was cursing it. The dead silence in the quiet forest was the perfect backdrop to amplify his ragged breathing as they hiked through the woods back to the spot they had left the horses. He hoped it was just abnormally loud to his own ears, but judging by the sympathetic glances he kept catching thrown his way, that was probably wishful thinking. He tried to focus on taking slow deep breaths but his ribs were quick to quash that plan triggering a coughing fit that doubled him over and made his eyes water. Shallow quick breaths it was then. He didn't recall being this out of breath since joining the army and showing up for bootcamp mistakenly thinking he was strong and fit. Running maneuvers in the hills with weight vests in the desert heat had humbled him quickly.
He silently celebrated when Amir held up the sign to hold, scolding himself for being grateful for the break when they should have been moving. Amir pulled out his canteen, taking his time opening it before taking a long slow pull. He offered it to Dalton who shook his head. Realistically he probably should have given the former spy heck- his team did not stop for water breaks. Come to think of it the amount of stops they had taken in the course of this short 2 mile ruck was something he would regularly never have allowed. Jaz for some reason needed to stop to rearrange her pack claiming something was digging into her back. Later on McGuire had apparently had forgotten how to tie a damn shoe and had fiddled with his boot for a good couple minutes before they continued on. Yes, he probably should say something but he was busy sucking in air trying to slow his rapid breathing and pounding heart. He could discuss the appropriate reasons for stopping during a mission with his team when they debriefed back at their base
They continued on and things seemed to go downhill from there. Well technically they went uphill. The team started a gradual ascent coming back around the mountain pass. His ribs amped up their protest sending sharp lancing pains with each step he took. But the pain wasn't the problem. He had learned a long time ago in this business to make peace with pain, to accept it for what it was and what it meant, and then get the job done regardless if it. No, it was the amount of effort he was having to expend to catch his breath that was quickly sapping his reserves. Every breath took concerted effort to try and bring in what never felt like enough air. His lungs burned, straining against his tight chest to pull in enough oxygen to keep up with the demands of his body. His feet felt heavy and clumsy and it was starting to take serious concentration to place one foot in front of the other and not trip on the uneven terrain. His tired brain couldn't seem to keep up with even these two simple tasks anymore. Breathe and walk, just breathe and walk. He stubbornly pushed on. He would not be the reason his team spent even one more minute than necessary near enemy territory. Breathe and walk… Breathe and walk.
They finally approached the clearing and found the horses waiting for them, heads down contentedly munching on whatever greenery was in their reach. Surprisingly being stationary didn't bring the relief he was hoping for. He was finding it hard to follow what was going on around him. He should be doing something right now. Others were doing something. Packing things, unhooking horses. But he couldn't figure out what he should be doing. He felt naked without his pack and long gun that Preach had insisted on carrying . He couldn't remember which horse was his at the moment either. His normally well oiled team bustled around him slowly preparing to mount up. He wondered what was taking so long anxious to keep moving, to get this over with. It was almost as if, as if they were stalling on purpose. He found this thought abnormally funny, laughing to himself at his sudden insight and how long it had taken him to figure it out.
Jaz called his name, distracting him from his introspection. It was apparently not for the first time she had said his name either judging by the tone of her voice. He turned to his left to see what she wanted but his vision kept on going refusing to focus on his female team member and causing his balance to waver as the world spun and blurred. He blinked hoping to cease the movement and find some stability. When that failed he settled for leaning nonchalantly against a nearby tree finally managing to steady himself . He took the bar and water that Jaz was offering him and forced a smile to try and ease the concern in her gaze. She continued to watch him suspiciously. "Are you gunning for McG's job?" he joked, hoping to deflect her attention. No luck, she laughed but her keen sniper eyes were still trained on him waiting for him to do more than hold the food. He had never felt less like eating and silently debated whether it was more effort to argue or just to eat it. Looking around at the rest of the gazes that were definitely not watching their interaction he grimaced. He hoped he at least managed to express an annoyingly fake smile as he fiddled with the bar wrapper and took a begrudging bite.
"Ok, let's get this show on the road" he called out, ready to head out and get some of the attention off his food consumption or lack thereof. He pushed off the tree determined to grab a horse, any horse and continue this hellish return trip. His vision spun again and this time he couldn't save it. He was surprised to see the ground rushing up towards him at the angle it was. His last not-so-rational thought was that it was weird the ground was so vertical here.
