Aww! You guys! Are great!
Glad you're excited for more of my dabbling...

Disclaimer - medical inconsistencies.


"Uh, yeah." Sonny panted. "Boss."

"Report status." Blackburn barked in everyone's ear. "Bravo three?"

"Got a bit of a situation." Sonny admitted as Clay chuckled - giggled - in their ears. "Rock shifted."

"He stepped in a hole! His foot is stuck!" Clay crowed gleefully. "For once! For once! It's not me!"

"HaHaHa." Sonny muttered. Oh, he was not happy to be the butt of jokes. God Dammit! Of all the luck! And with the Echo newbie with them too. "Why does this shit always happen to me?"

"To you?" Clay burst out. "TO YOU?!" He howled. "TO YOU?!" If he were standing, he'd be hopping in frustrated disbelief!

"Get down here and help me, you half-sized punk-assed bitch." Sonny groused. "We all clear?"

Trent didn't hear any inflections of pain or discomfort in Sonny's voice or tone, decided there was no need to panic.

Ray saw Clay break camouflage, rise to his knees, wave at them, get to his feet.

"All clear." Brock responded. "Proceed with caution six."

"I'm coming." Clay told Sonny. "And yeah, not gonna let you live this down for a long time." He disarmed his rifle, set the safety, slung it over his back. "Meet you all at exfil."

Sonny threw handfuls of dirt and pebbles in disgust. Really? REALLY? This had to happen now? He gave his foot a tug….it didn't budge. The rock didn't budge. The dirt and gravel didn't budge. Neither did the ground. The only thing that budged was his ass when the earth refused to release his foot after his violent tug and the pull on his trapped leg dragged him forward.

Well, damn. He'd gone and wedged it in there quite firmly.

And wouldn't you know he couldn't reach his pickaxe or the hunting knife that would gut a freaking grizzly bear. Well, he probably could if he wanted to contort himself into a human pretzel, strain a few muscles and possibly dislocate a shoulder, and if he were alone and in danger and left to free himself, he would, but Clay was within shouting distance, so no, he didn't want to.

He'd sit still and wait.

Eh, at least no one had gotten up the hill….well, okay, no one had tried to, but if they had, they wouldn't have been able to reach Clay and put him in any danger.

"Hey," Clay slid in on his ass, coming up out of a crouch from his feet-first slide down the hill in a fluid motion. "Still stuck huh?"

Sonny huffed, rolled his eyes. Good Grief! Clay had been a minute away, had taken half that time to slide down the hill. Yeah! He was still stuck.

"Where's Doogie?"

"Taking the path," Clay slung his backpack to the ground, handed Sonny a bottle of water. "Bit of a pansy ass."

Sonny didn't comment. It was safer to take the path and he was in no pain or danger for Clay to have risked his own safety over, but the fact Clay had taken the fastest, most direct way to his side made him a bit emotional.

"Wow." Clay went down on his knees, bent over Sonny's ankle, tugged, rotated, patted it. "Wedged that in there pretty good. In any pain?"

Sonny shook his head. Not now, but would he be? For all he knew, his foot or ankle might be broken, he couldn't feel anything.

"Sit tight." Clay pulled both his knife and pickaxe, began to dig while Sonny sat and drank water.

"You good?" Sonny asked after a moment.

Clay gave him a surprised look, paused, rocked back on his ass a bit. "Yeah, why wouldn't I be?"

"Killing while being shot at is one thing." Sonny said seriously. "Taking a life…"

Clay nodded. He got it, he did.

"I'm good. Buy me a beer later."

True to his training, Wes approached the Bravo teammates in silence. If they hadn't been trained as well as he, they never would have known he'd approached.

"Hey," Clay looked up, he was alternating between hitting the rock that pinned Sonny's ankle with the pickaxe and digging the dirt around it with the knife. "Sonny, feeling any pain?"

"Not yet." Sonny gave Wes a look. The hell? Had the punk stopped and had a snack coming down the hill?

"You guys carry pickaxe's?" Wes wondered in awe. "Wow." He saw the size of the knife and his eyes went even wider. "WOW! Geesch!"

Clay ignored him. "Think you will?" He asked Sonny, paused. "Gonna need you to yank your foot free once I move this rock. Funny how shit just moves on its own but then, it wedges in so hard, a man can't move it."

"Dunno." Sonny answered honestly. "Foot is numb, can't feel it."

"Pressure point on his ankle from a sharp edge of a rock? Tree root?" Wes guessed.

"Whack him in the knee." Clay ordered, half joking.

Wes shrugged, whacked Sonny's knee on his trapped leg with an open palm, got the reflexive reaction they were looking for.

"Felt that huh?" Clay grinned at Sonny's grunt and his body's jerk in response. "Good."

"Foot could be crushed." Wes pointed out. Clay nodded. Sonny growled. "Need help digging?"

"No, I've got it. Get behind him, get ready to drag him back in case he can't move his leg."

Wes nodded, moved behind Sonny, slid one arm around his stomach, hugged Sonny tight to him and got a firm, tight grip on Sonny's vest with his other.

Sonny exchanged an amused look with Clay, placed his palms flat on the ground, braced his right heel against the ground, ready to propel himself backwards if the time came he needed to do so. Where was the wishy-washy punk who'd done nothing but argue with Jason?

"Ready when you are." Wes said.

"Gonna call you Yeahbutt." Sonny muttered. They seemed to be Wes's favorite two words.

"Gonna wanna know how this happened." Clay teased. "And ain't gonna read it in the report either."

It had happened because Sonny had been more worried about Wes having Clay's back then watching where he was going and what he was doing. So, it was all Jason's fault.

Boss wouldn't see it that way though, and he'd know how it happened and boy, was Sonny ever in for a bawling out.

"Wasn't watching where I was going." Sonny muttered, growling at Clay's knowing smirk. "Shut the fuck up."

"You wear dog tags?" Wes asked when Clay's dangled free from his shirt. "Not a good idea, you know. Make too much noise." He dug a hand under Sonny's vest, patted his chest with his palm. "You don't." Sonny slapped his hand away with a growl. Wes thought for a moment that Sonny might actually bite.

"They don't clank." Clay tossed aside a large stone, dug out some more dirt, used both hands to grip the rock that trapped Sonny's foot. "Ready?" He waited, Sonny nodded.

"He took them off once." Sonny clenched his jaw. "Won't do that again, will you?"

"Lesson learned." Clay agreed and lifted.

Sonny's grunt when the pressure was relieved told Clay pain had flared. Wes dragged him back and Sonny pulled his foot free from its prison. The rock was too heavy for Clay to lift and throw, so he simply dropped it. It rolled into the hole Sonny's foot had left and covered the opening.

"Hold tight." Clay spun around, still on his knees, lifted Sonny's booted foot and rested it on his lap. He began to unlace the ties and Wes asked if they should remove the boot. "Why wouldn't I?"

"The support from his boot, the tight laces will aid him in walking if there's a bad sprain." Wes explained.

"True," Clay agreed. "But if it's that bad, he won't have to walk very far. They'll come get him."

"Who will?"

"Bravo." Clay pulled the laces loose enough to ease the boot off. He couldn't see if there were any broken toes or bones with the boot on. Besides, if the ankle was twisted or sprained, best to let it swell. "If there's any swelling, leaving the boot on will only give him more pain. Hard to cut off, it swells too much."

"Yeah, but….." Wes sighed. "Says who?"

"Trent." Sonny and Clay said simultaneously. They laughed and high-fived.

Clay thumbed Sonny's heel, felt his toes, searched with light fingers, touch a bit heavy.

"In this unit, what Trent says is what we do." Clay explained to a befuddled Wes. "Doesn't matter what doctors or scientists say or think or what research has proven. It's Trent's way or the highway."

"Yeah, but…"

"Don't think anything's broken. Need to wrap it, get some ice, elevate it." Clay was telling Sonny. "Let's go, on your feet. They're not going to wait patiently for us for long."

Sonny rose to his feet easily and without assistance. He tested his foot, put more weight on it…..ow, oh yeah, there might not be anything broken, but he'd definitely hurt something. A sprain, a twist, maybe just wrenched. Whatever, it fucking hurt.

"Want me to wrap it?" Clay asked. "Put your sock back on, Trent can cut it off. Not the boot though, we'll support your weight."

Sonny shook his head, tried taking a few steps, then a few more. Hobbled to a nearby tree, hugged it for support, held his foot off the ground.

"Yeah, maybe you'd better." He capitulated without resistance. The longer they were out in the open on the hill like this, the greater the chances for danger. And where there was the chance of danger, it was drawn straight to Clay.

Clay nodded, keyed in to his comm's. "Bravo one."

"Copy six."

"Bravo three is mobile, but we're gonna hafta take it slow."

"How bad?"

"Nothing broken, bad sprain most likely. Gonna wrap it, we'll move out."

"Which foot?" Trent asked.

Like it mattered, Wes huffed.

"Left." Clay responded. "Boot off, already swelling."

"Do you need assistance?" Jason asked.

"Wes and I can get him down."

"Let me know, that changes."

"Roger that."

Sonny sat down on a fallen tree, watched Clay squeeze a single use ice pack, sighed. Now he knew how the kid felt all the time, 'cause it was usually Clay who ended up hurt or lame or somehow otherwise laid up.

"Top, to the left." Sonny instructed. Least, that's where it seemed his foot throbbed the worst.

Clay nodded, applied the ice pack, wrapped an ace bandage securely around Sonny's ankle, made sure he hadn't made the binding too tight, worked the sock over the bandage.

"I look like an ass." Sonny complained.

"Right, oh ok, then." Clay handed him two tablets which he swallowed with water. "I'll just remove the bandage and the ice pack, let you put your boot back on 'cause you don't want to look stupid." He patted Sonny's knee, collected the trash, and repacked everything into his backpack. "Let's move out. You don't want Jason coming after us."

Sonny wanted a tree limb to use as a walking stick but a quick look around didn't provide them with a suitable one and Clay refused to waste time looking for one that was when he and Wes could easily support Sonny's weight. All they had to do was make it down the hill, Jason would have the truck come as close as it could to get them.

Grumbling, Sonny started walking on his own, soon had to accept Clay's support. They weren't half way down the hill when he accepted Wes's support, all weight now off his ankle and only on his toes.

"Shit, couldn't you fuck up your ankle on flat ground?" Clay panted. He wasn't complaining. Hell, Sonny had carried him on his back numerous times; had been one of two or four to carry him on a litter or in a basket or on a stretcher up and down and across and through all kinds of terrain in all kinds of weather.

"Think maybe he has a hairline fracture?" Wes asked. "Not something you'd know you missed."

"Bravo six," came Jason over the comm's. "We're at the access road. How far out are you?"

Clay stopped, let Sonny sit down for a rest, moved off the path to look down over the side. And they'd been worried he'd fall off his over-hang. Bah.

"Ten mikes." Clay reported. "He's good, just slow moving."

Sonny peered down at his offending foot, curled a lip in disgust. No, he couldn't see the swelling, but boy-oh-boy he sure as hell felt it.

"Giving you fits?" Clay asked, taking two gel-caps and offering the bottle to Wes who refused the offer. His back was not going to thank him for this trek down the hill.

"Mmm."

"Can I just again say how glad I am it's not me this time?" Clay chortled.

"You gloat." Sonny goaded. "Go ahead, it will bite you in the ass."

Clay grinned, but some of his amusement fled, the rest dimmed. Sonny was right. Just because Clay hadn't turned his ankle in a hole on the hill, didn't mean he'd go home from this mission unscathed.

They finally reached the bottom of the hill, stepped onto the flat road, began to trudge towards the exfil location. They didn't get far when the truck rumbled up to greet them and Brock and Jason swung off the tailgate.

"Yippee tye-I-oh, giddyup little doggies." Brock whooped, taking Sonny from Clay.

"It's get along little doggies, you ass-wipe." Sonny corrected as hands reached from the back of the truck for his feet. Clay and Jason swept his legs out from under him, let Brock and Wes hold his weight, handed him up.

"Wyoming will be their new home." Ray sang, pulling Sonny into the truck where he left him on the floor in Trent's capable hands.

"Who the fuck wants to go to Wyoming." Sonny hissed when Trent plucked his foot off the floor by his heel. "OW!"

Trent ignored him. He felt Sonny's toes through the sock, rotated his ankle left, right, up, down, forward, backwards. Sonny's hisses and grunts and ows went ignored.

Clay took a seat on the bench and the truck pulled out.

"Infirmary?" Ray asked. Trent nodded.

"What the hell happened?" Jason demanded, glared at Wes, clearly laying the blame for Sonny's injury on the newbie.

"Oh now, don't look at me like that." Wes protested, hands up, palms out. "I returned Spenser hale and hearty, just like you said to." He haha'd Jason in his face. "You," he pointed at Sonny, "Didn't say anything about how to bring him back."

"Oh hell Boss! You just got burned!" Trent laughed over the look on Jason's face. "Lie down." He told Sonny. "We have a forty minute ride."

Sonny scowled. "I'm not dizzy, not gonna puke." Flat on his back put him at a disadvantage and he didn't like it.

"Gimme that bag." Trent told Brock who kicked it over with one foot. "Want your ankle above your heart, you dumb ass." He opened two more ice packs, squeezed with more strength than was required to activate them. Sonny was glad Trent was man-handling the ice packs and not his foot. Trent plopped one on top of Sonny's foot – none too gently either – and placed the other one under his heel.

"Shouldn't you unwrap his foot first? Wes asked. "Ice it for twenty minutes, then let it return to room temp….." He trailed off at the look of contempt from Trent. "Alrighty then, I'll just, uh…hey there puppy. Aren't you a handsome fella."

Cerberus eyed the hand Wes extended, sniffed, then lowered his head to have his ears scratched. Brock was impressed Wes had had the sense to let Cerb make the decision to be petted.

"Here, eat a candy bar." Trent tore the wrapper from a Snicker's. "I have Hershey's if you prefer it."

"I don't need sugar Trent." Sonny reached for the chocolate even as he said it. Trent would not be deterred, everyone knew that. "Not going into shock. Good Christ."

"You give him any ibuprofen?" Trent asked Clay, who nodded.

"Gave him my liquid gel-caps." Clay smirked. "Don't just give it to anyone."

"For Pete's sake." Sonny huffed. "They're over-the-counter! No big sacrifice on your part."

"He okay?" Ray asked.

"Yeah." Trent patted Sonny's knee. "Get an x-ray, keep a compression bandage on it, stay off his feet a few days."

"So, not broken. Hairline fracture?" Jason asked.

Trent shook his head. "He'd be in more pain, wouldn't be able to bear any weight on it, not even his toes."

Now, that just wasn't true…well, not completely. It was, but Trent couldn't know that without confirmation from x-rays. Wes opened his mouth to argue, caught Clay staring at him, shaking his head.

Right, what Trent said was law around here.

Ray offered Clay a bottle of Gatorade, sat down next to him, knocked shoulders with the younger man.

"So, other than Sonny stepping into a rabbit hole, you good?"

Clay knew what he was asking – killing a target without knowing who or why took an emotional toll. It was war, but still….didn't always make it easier knowing that.

"I'll sleep it off."

"You wanna talk…" Ray let it hang in the air between them. Clay nodded. "Get back to base, get a hot shower, something to eat, call it a day, huh?"

"Guess."

"Still seeing, uh…" Shit! Ray just could not think of the girl's name Clay was seeing. "Donna? Debbie? No, Darlene! Starts with a…..D, right?" He asked tentatively. "Aah!" He snapped his fingers. "Diane. Not Delores. Dawn? Danielle? Denise?"

"Molly." Clay grinned.

"Molly?" Ray repeated doubtfully. "Are you sure? That doesn't start with a D. Dolly, maybe?"

"You try." Clay let him off the hook. "It's Molly."

"Was there a D?"

"Deanna." Clay confirmed. "Keep up ole man."

"I remember living it up when I was your age." Ray commented, reminiscing. "Aah, the good ole days."

Deanna. She, um….oh she was a pistol. An Army gal, she'd been extremely competitive with the desire to win – no matter the game or situation – at any cost.

The muscle in his left calf twinged at the thought of daring Deanna. Hiking with her had ended with one hell of nasty cut on his leg when she'd wrestled him to the ground in an attempt to relieve him of all weapons. She'd found and pulled his knife from his boot, then believing she'd won, had shoved it back in but had missed its sheath and found his skin.

Holy Hell - ow, that had hurt!

She'd been adept at treating injuries, though he was sure Trent would beg to differ and Clay hadn't sought further medical treatment. Hell, he'd gone and forgotten about it, keeping up with her was a 24/7 job.….but yeah, that, uh, event, coupled with a few others, had convinced him she was more than he could handle – or wanted to deal with.

And if he hadn't made the decision to say good-riddance on his own, Sonny made it for him when he'd seen Clay's wrists after spending the night at her place. Sonny hadn't asked questions, hadn't teased him, but his angry frown said he understood what had caused the red, puffy skin and he hadn't cared the marks would disappear within a few hours….no abrasions, no bruises…but no. He wasn't going to sit around and allow that kind of relationship.

All he'd said was: Do I need to kick anyone's ass?

When Clay had blushed and said no, Sonny had stared him for a bit then said: She ain't worth it kid, kick the bitch to the curb.

Clay already had.

"Molly Madison." Brock said the name as a question. "Pies, right?"

"Not in your life time." Jason teased, punching Brock in the arm. "Stopped making 'em in the 80's and it was Dolly Madison." Leave it to Brock to know the history on sweets.

Wes sat quietly, enjoying the fun, good-natured teasing between the teammates. Wondered if, hoped that, someday his unit would be as close, as tight, and as comfortable with one another as these guys were. He'd heard rumors about Bravo, everyone did. Some guys even knew these men personally.

Whether or not you were one of the elite Seals, if you were a Seal on rotation from the East Coast, you knew about Bravo.

***later that evening***

"Hey Boss." Clay entered the weapons room where Jason, Ray and Lisa were…well, doing something.

It'd been a long day. They'd returned to base, Sonny had gone off for x-rays with a tut-tutting Doc who marveled it hadn't been Clay who required his services and Clay and Wes had been ushered off for debriefing, and then were required to write their reports before finally being allowed loose to get hot showers and something to eat.

Sonny had stretched ligaments in his ankle, though luckily he hadn't suffered a complete tear. He'd be fine after resting it for several days. He was ordered off his feet, his foot iced and elevated and once the swelling had subsided, told to pedal a bike and swim to help strengthen the idle muscles and ligaments in his foot.

He was not happy and everyone was giving him a wide berth.

"Spenser." Jason barely looked up. "Everything go okay?"

"Yeah, we're released."

"What do you want?"

"We restricted to base?" They were due to fly home tomorrow afternoon, delayed twenty-four hours so they could all fly home with Sonny.

That brought Jason's head up, caused Ray to turn and Lisa to pause.

"No. Going somewhere?"

"Couple guys from Support are headed into town, catch a movie, go bowling, hit a bar. Wes and I are gonna go."

Wes? Really? Jason glanced at his watch, it was just after 7 o'clock. He shrugged.

"Don't drink and drive, but if you drive drunk, drive back real fast."

Lisa whopped him across the shoulder with something rubber that looked like it would sting like a bitch. It did. Jason went 'OW', held a hand over his stinging skin, looked incredulously at his team's logistics specialist.

"The hell Davis!" Jason exclaimed, couldn't believe she'd just whacked him a good one.

"What the hell kind of advice is that?" She admonished. Especially after the way he'd lost his wife! Ex-wife, whatever. Yes, yes, she understood humor was a way to handle grief, but...really? "What's the matter with you?! Clay, do not listen to him. Do not drink and drive."

Clay grinned, blue eyes twinkling. He knew Jason was teasing. He gave her a thumbs up.

"Uh, take a cab," Jason corrected hastily, eyeing Lisa and her rubber fin warily. "No fights, back by curfew."

Clay nodded and left.

Before Ray could say a word, Jason pulled his cell and dialed.

"Randy? Who's going? Uh-huh….yeah, Spenser and West…Wesson, whatever. Midnight. Right, yup. Okay. Thanks." He hung up, pocketed his phone, returned to packing parachutes.

"That it?" Ray asked.

"Yup." Jason tucked and zipped. Patted and flattened.

"Letting him go, just like that?"

"It's a free night, he wants to go, can't stop him."

"Uh, yeah, yeah you can."

Jason grinned. Hell yeah, he could. "Good to see the kid happy Ray. What do you want?"

"You sure about this?" Ray frowned. He wanted Clay safe on base, within their sight. They were already down Sonny.

"Who's going with them?" Lisa demanded, hands on hips, ponytail swinging.

"Matt and Seth."

"Don't like it." Ray warned.

"Eh, what could happen?" But Jason couldn't look Ray in the eye.