Hello again!

Here is the first part of the second installment of my collection for SEAL Team. I hope you all like it. Enjoy!

Warnings: about what you would see/hear on the show. This is going to be heavy on Brock whump wise, a bit on Trent and some on Cerberus (but I can't hurt animals, even in my writing, so there isn't much), so take that with a grain of salt I guess.

2: Stand by Me (Part 1)

"Bravo One to HAVOC base, we're in position." Jason says as he keys his comms.

"That's a good copy, Bravo One. ISR shows that your target is still inside, but there are ten enemy combatants between you and the front door." Comes Lt. Commander Blackburn's reply.

"Copy." Jason turns to his team, "Ray on front point, Brock, Trent and Sonny loop around the back and cut any chance at an exit. Quick and clean."

Sonny lets out a low gruff, adjusting his weapon in his hands, "Not quick and dirty? C'mon boss."

Jason can't help but smile. "Moving in three…two…"

The dark Afghan house in the middle of nowhere was perfect for Bravo to grab a woman that Mandy had been dying to speak with, a woman Ellis believed could lead them to someone the CIA has been after for decades. Even with the potential chance at getting information from someone that could lead to the end of multiple terror networks in various countries across the globe, the risks were high, as always. The operation was approved quickly, and the team had a small window of operation to work with before the woman left country. However, they had to be careful as it was rumored that the woman's security was known for planting traps on their property to cover their escape tracks.

They knew that they would have a fight on their hands.

It should have been a quick grab and go. Not easy, just quick. But things did not go as planned.

"EXECUTE!"

All six men took out a guard—Sonny took out two—but the three remaining men ran back inside before the rest of Bravo's bullets could find their mark. Brock, with Cerberus, and Trent ran around back, Sonny trailing a few yards behind, weapons raised and ready to fire, expecting the woman to make a run for it. They were ready to grab her and head for exfil back to base should she come towards them. Gunfire continued to fill the night, likely alerting anyone who could be close that something was happening. They had to move quicker.

Trent and Brock were less than a yard away from the backdoor when Cerberus starting barking at a window to their left. A guard suddenly appears out of the dark with a large rifle and opened fire on the men. It swept the area, spraying the stone building, the ground, the trees and cars and anything else that was nearby. Sonny had time to dive behind a tree but watched in horror as the bullets knocked his brothers to the ground with ease.

In a fit of rage, Quinn opened fire on the guard as soon as he had an opening, three quick shots center mass. He was dead before he hit the ground.

And the gunfire in the house stopped soon after.

Sonny is on his feet, clearing the area out of habit, then stands over his brothers protectively as he keys his comm. "Bravo Three to HAVOC base! Men down, I repeat Bravos Four and Five are hit!"

"It's in…in the vest. I'm fine!" Trent grinds out as he rolls onto his side. Sonny goes to help him up, but Trent roughly shoves his hands away as he crawls to Brock's side. But he doesn't miss the way Bravo Four's face scrunches up in pain, or the nearly inaudible groan that passes his cracked lips. Or the wound on his right arm, as it bled through his clothes.

Jason jogs up to where the others are, with Ray and Clay holding a woman between them. She has blood on her dress, but no one wonders if it is her own or not. "What happened?" he asks when he sees two of his men down.

Sonny juts his head towards the reason for their current condition. "Bastard came out of nowhere."

"HAVOC to Bravo One, report?" Blackburn questions through the comms when he sees the team standing in one place. The trees in the back of the home made it hard to get a clear visual from ISR, but they clearly weren't moving. "What the hell just happened?"

Trent hasn't said anything, so Jason wasn't ready to give a report just yet. "Stand by, HAVOC. Over."

A pause. "Standing by. Over."

"Four?"

Trent pushes the inquiries aside, instead focusing on the man in front of him. Brock wasn't unconscious, but he wasn't fully awake either. Laying on his back, Trent shook him a bit to keep his eyes open. "Don't close those eyes, man. Keep 'em open! One, talk to him, I gotta look at his wounds… Dammit, Two check Cerberus' front left leg." He rattles off as he quickly pulls everything he needs from his med bag.

Jason kneels next to Brock, gets his attention, talks to him while Trent places piles of gauze onto the wound on his leg. He tries not to look at what their unofficial medic is doing, doesn't want Brock to focus on anything else but breathing and staying awake. But even that was hard for the wounded SEAL.

"There's…there's still so much blood…" Trent trails off, trying to find the source, trying to stop it. He runs his hand over Brock's torso and legs two, three times, doesn't find any wounds other than the one he just stuffed with gauze. His worry grows when Brock doesn't so much as wince at his touch. "Help me roll him onto his right side. Carefully, not too fast. Three, give me some light."

All members of Bravo Team remained silent as Trent worked. Ray finished checking Cerb over, having bandaged the bullet grazes on the canines' leg. Clay cuffed and gagged the woman to part of the car and took up watch with Sonny after rolling Brock to his side. Jason continued to talk to the SEAL, waiting for any word from Trent, when Bravo Five's eyes finally closed.

"Five? Bravo Five, wake up!" urges Jason. "Bravo Four, he's—"

"Just passed out. He's lost a lot of blood." Trent tells him without looking up. He mutters a curse under his breath, though his brothers still heard him.

"What? What is it? What's wrong?" someone asks, who it was, Trent couldn't tell. His vision had begun to dance, and he had to adjust his position slightly to get a better hold on the gauze he pressed against Brock's back. "Four?"

"The bullets…" he begins, wondering how he's going to give them the news. With Jason's help, Brock is laid on his back carefully. "He was closest to the shooter, took rounds to the front and back of his vest, likely bruised some ribs, maybe worse. One in his upper left leg, can't see how bad it is because of the amount of blood… and two bullets in his lower back. In this lighting I can't be positive, but… it looks like they are real close to his spine. It isn't bleeding as badly as the other, but I just can't see anything—"

"Shit." Jason stands up straighter, keys his comms, "Bravo One to HAVOC base, come in."

"Go for HAVOC base."

"Package is secure. We have a man down, requesting immediate exfil at our location with additional medical resources aboard." He says. "Have the base team standing by, it's… it's not good."

"That's a good copy, Bravo One. Medical exfil will be approximately two klicks from your location in two mikes." Eric says. "Exfil for the rest of you will arrive 10 mikes at the same location."

Jason hesitates, not liking the idea of being separated from his brothers, but Brock needed medical attention yesterday, and if medical exfil is going to arrive first, then so be it. "Good copy, HAVOC. Moving to exfil location now."

Swiftly, but with great care, the team rigs up a litter out of tree branches and tarp. Clay grabs the woman, Jason is on point, Ray brings up the rear, while Sonny and Trent, with Cerberus attached to his belt, carry the still unconscious Brock towards the exfil location.

Exfil had just handed when they finally arrived, a medic jumps off and meets them halfway. Bravo Four begins to tell him all he knows, what he thinks, and what treatment should be started en route. The medic nods and helps load Brock into the waiting chopper.

Trent steps back, prepared to stay behind with the rest of Bravo, but Jason is ready shaking his head, having read what Trent was thinking a mile away. "Go with them. Five needs you." He tells his brother. "Get yourself checked out. Cerb too."

Trent wants to argue, tell his team leader that he was fine and could wait with the others. Instead he resigns, nods, and climbs into the chopper with their canine teammate. His arm is burning, with blood continuing to run down freely. He should probably get that looked at.

No one liked the idea of being separated, but everyone understood. They would be reunited soon enough, and Brock would be fine and the intel this woman provided would be worth the blood, pain and suffering. Right?

No sooner had the chopper begun to fade into the night sky, did gunfire erupt around the men, save for Clay who was still holding onto the woman's arm. Sonny, Jason and Ray quickly took cover behind a few boulders, returned fire.

"Bravo Six to HAVOC! We're taking heavy fire!" Clay shouts into his comms. He returned fire as best he could from behind a tree, but he also had to keep a hold of their package.

A few seconds passed before the gunfire died away slightly, only for two men to step out into the open with something atop their shoulders.

"Incoming!"

"Get down!"

"Cover!"

Two explosions happened one after the other. First, Bravo team on the ground was sent reeling back as the solid ground turned into a shower of rocks and dirt. The second happened in the sky behind them, striking the chopper that carried their brothers.

"No!" someone shouts.

All recover quickly and take out the remaining men. It felt like hours passed before the last man finally fell, and when they had the night fell silent. Bravo turned to where they last saw the chopper, but they were unable to see anything in the darkness of night.

He didn't pass out.

Not when the RPG struck their chopper, not when it spun out of control, and not when it crashed into the dusty Afghan mountains. It happened fast, as it usually does, and all he could manage to do was hold on until the world stopped spinning. His vision faded in and out, black then white spots danced in strange motions, but he didn't pass out.

Trent gasped, inhaling more smoke than he wished when the world finally stilled. His vision was blurry, but he could see Cerberus' tail off in the distance, heard him growling like he had something in his mouth, could tell that the dog was doing something…

His hand crosses his chest, searches for the radio that it clipped to his vest. "B-Bravo Four to… HAVOC base. Come in, HAVOC base, over."

Static.

"Bravo Four to Bravo One, do you read me?"

Nothing.

"Bravo Four to all call signs—" He tried to sit up, tried to gather his bearings, but a sharp pain shot through his side, above his right hip, but below his vest.

"Ah, sh—" he couldn't sit up enough to look at it, but with his hands figured he had a piece of something metal embedded in his side, about the length of his hand. Every bit of medical knowledge Trent had told him to leave the object in—it could be preventing him from bleeding out in the wreckage of the chopper right there, but he couldn't stay there and really didn't want to risk moving with it still in his side.

So, it had to come out.

Taking a deep breath, Trent presses his fingers around the wound, trying to determine out how deep it was embedded. He figured that it wasn't too deep, but it wasn't shallow either. He didn't see his medical kit nearby, so against his wishes, he left the object in and worked on getting free.

Fu…

…change of plans.

While it was dark, he was able to look in front of him, and is welcomed with the sight of the remains of the pilot and co-pilot. To his right was the trail of the wreckage, fiery metal, pieces of the chopper that were still ablaze. He glanced to his left, didn't see the medic anywhere… saw his weapon, grabbed it and carefully…painfully pulled it back over his shoulder… didn't see Brock…

But Cerberus…

Brock!

"B-Brock—"

It took a lot effort on his part, but he managed to push chunks of the chopper off of his legs—discovered that it was indeed a piece of metal embedded in his side—and proceeded to crawl towards the still growling Cerberus. He ignored the tug in his lungs, the fire that engulfed his side, the way his vision doubled without his consent. He pulled himself forward until he reached the opposite side of the chopper, then used his legs as much as he could to continue to propel himself in a forward motion when his arms began to burn. Finally, Trent was on the ground, and, in the fire light, was able to see what Cerb was doing.

The dog had a mouth full of debris, was trying to move and pull and dig all at the same time. Brock was laying on the ground, partially covered by what looks like some of their gear and parts of the chopper. Somehow, Trent got to his feet, and managed to stumble to his teammate's sides. He jumps in right away, aiding Cerb in clearing bits of the wreckage off of Brock, trying to be mindful of his own wound. When it was clear, the dog nudged his handler, licking his dirt and blood covered face, trying to wake him up.

"I think he's out for the count, boy." Trent mutters, mostly to himself, as he checks Bravo Five's pulse, pleased and relieved to find one. But that didn't stop the canine from trying, even when it proved to be fruitless. How did you even get over here? Trent ponders, then spies the damaged clip that was once attached to his belt. Ah…

Trent shakes his head—regrets it—then takes a few seconds to gather his wits and form a plan.

They weren't in the air long before the RPG struck, so they were still in heavy enemy territory. It was dark, they had maybe eight hours of night left, which means that it would be hard to see the smoke that still billowed from the wreck. However, that didn't mean that hostiles tracked where they crashed, and were heading right for them to do… nothing good. But that also meant that it would be hard to track them as they escaped.

He hoped.

Successfully getting back to base was probably out of the question, or at least off of the table of consideration given how he currently felt, how injured Brock was. So, finding shelter that he would be able to defend was what he would look for. He could work on fixing his radio, call for Bravo to come pick them up.

Yeah, that was a solid plan.

Pulling himself to his feet, Trent searches the wreck for anything and everything he can use. He grabs the much needed med kit, which looks to be in tact in spite of a few burned holes, another rifle, extra mags, water, MREs and a few other things he'll surely need. Next he needed to figure out how to transport Brock… and then to where. He couldn't drag him, not if he wanted to lead any hostiles right to them, so a litter was out of consideration.

If your brother can't walk…carry him.

He'd carry him.

But he couldn't do that with a piece of metal in his side.

With a deep sigh, Trent takes note of all the medical supplies he has, figures out what he can use for himself right then and gets to work.

Bravo Four tears his shirt and uses his headlight to get a better look at his wound and what he was dealing with. He stifles a groan when he grips the cool, discolored metal between his fingers, takes a deep breath and pulls it out before he talks himself out of this plan. Blood flowed freely and he set to patching himself up, wanting to leave as little trace of him being there as possible. He staples the wound shut as quickly as he could and covered it with gauze and tape before pulling his shirt back down. The bullet just grazed his bicep, so he quickly wrapped that with gauze, taping the end down.

All of the sudden, breathing hurt.

Trent fights the growing urge to close his eyes and rest. He couldn't do that. He had to get to safety. Had to take care of Brock and Cerberus.

He calls the canine over, who is as reluctant to leave his handlers side as expected. When the dog does limp to his side, Trent changes the bandages on his paw and searches for any more that he may have gained in the crash. Thankfully, the dog is relatively unhurt.

Which is good, considering the state of the two SEALs. He might be their last line of defense.

Can't think like that…

When he gets to his feet, Trent finds himself renewed with energy. It was now or never.

Trent blocks out his own pain as he bends down and expertly places the still unconscious Brock over his shoulders, mindful of Bravo Five's wounds as best he can be. With his weapon ready in his left hand, holding tight to his brother with his right hand, supplies on his back and Cerberus by his side, Bravo Four begins the trek through the dark, dry Afghan terrain.

AN: Thank you all for favoriting and/or following and/or for the kind, welcoming words. I was a bit nervous getting back into this and wasn't sure how this small fandom would react to fics that aren't about the Core Four (Jason, Ray, Clay and Sonny). But I think you all seem to like it. Leave a review with your thoughts and follow if you haven't.

Part 2 is nearly finished, so that will come this weekend (at least, that's my current plan). Happy New Year!