Aftermath

By: MusketeerAdventure

Summary: The cost of doing business leaves Bravo Team reeling.

Chapter Two: Nothing seemed like it should. As Sonny battles a sense of melancholy, Naima vows to fight for her husband.

In clear, booming surround sound, Sonny's seventy inch smart T.V. blared out the breaking news for the day.

Reporting in even tones, the journalist announced that, "Alan Cutter and other top officials of Xeon Tactical were arrested today in Jalalabad." Her voice droned on as the scene played out in high definition with law enforcement escorting men and women out of a brick building. Attempting to hide their faces from intrusive cameras, the accused were led away in handcuffs.

Nondescript vehicles waited by the curb, doors open; ready to take them away. Just like in one of his all-time favorite shows from the past, 'Hill Street Blues.'

Sonny chuckled at the dire expression on Cutter's face. "You're going to jail asshole", he murmured to the television screen and took a bite of white rice from the take out container. What a fucking prick, he thought inwardly and felt a sense of weariness come over him like a crashing wave.

Surprised at his reaction or lack thereof, he knew he should have felt something more than mild amusement to the news. They had been to hell and back to avenge Echo Team; and Cutter's downfall was a part of that. Some anger would be appropriate, but nah….there was nothing.

If he couldn't feel angry or even happy, then at least he should feel something more akin to satisfaction. It all but vindicated Jason's seemingly off the wall rants and theories. But instead of satisfaction, he just felt numb.

Reluctantly, he had to admit that coming home wasn't what it was all cracked up to be. So far it had been a huge let down.

Sure, the air was free of swirling sand, making it easier to take a deep breath without feeling a tickle at the back of his throat. Sure, it was great to call for Chinese takeout and lay it out for systematic delight in front of him to enjoy at his leisure. Sure, he could finally sit before his beloved set, tricked out with every channel available to man, voice activation, and the best internet streaming had to offer.

He had been looking forward to this luxury for months. To put his feet up, relax, and blot out the noise of near death experiences, gun fire, explosions and air craft falling to earth. To binge on his favorite television shows and for a few hours lose himself in mindless entertainment. Where he didn't have to think; make a decision; or watch good men succumb in more ways than one.

Laying down his chopsticks, Sonny leaned back on the sofa and aggressively massaged his scraggly beard. Nothing seemed like it should. Everything felt so empty. Only hours separated from that God forsaken country and he felt like a freak'n zombie.

He couldn't understand it.

Over there he felt alive, needed, connected to his team; revved up with adrenaline twenty-four seven; even into his dreams.

Here, seated in his immaculate living room, with all the amenities he could possibly need surrounding him, he felt lost; inconsequential – out of sorts.

Reaching for the remote, he turned off the t.v. and welcomed the silence, ready to finish his meal. He had ordered all of his favorites to celebrate the successes of Bravo Team's deployment and safe return.

Leaning over to finish off the orange chicken, his mind fell on Danny and suddenly he didn't feel so hungry. What he had managed to eat sat like lead in his stomach, and left a bad taste in his mouth. Taking a swig of beer he thought of Davis and her tough exterior.

When he left her at the hospital, he could tell that she was devastated – angry even, but he could understand it. She had made it clear she didn't want him there with her. She wanted to see Danny alone. Davis wasn't one to show her emotions in front of others – unless it was derision; and he wasn't one to push or provide platitudes or give comfort when it wasn't wanted.

It wasn't in his DNA.

But he understood Danny, and recognized a lot of his good friend in himself. To live on such a high for months on end, year after year; to be dangerous without repercussions; to live on the edge and be so mother fucking invincible was hard to come down from.

To then just come back home and be expected to slide back into normal was not only daunting but unrealistic.

Who survived the shit they encountered over there and not be affected – not be changed in some way? He could relate to the man's pain and raised his beer can to give a silent salute, hoping for the best; then swallowed down what was left in one fell swoop.

Wiping his mouth, Sonny sat very still on the sofa and wondered how Davis was holding up, but hadn't the energy to reach for the phone. He should probably get his ass up and put the food away before it spoiled, but he didn't have the energy for that either. Instead, he sat and watched the sun go down and let the room fall into a blanket of darkness, uninterested in putting on a light.

Limbs heavy, he leaned his head back, closed his eyes and gave himself permission to let go and drift.

Tomorrow would be better. He would get up from this spot; visit Danny; go to work…. and hope to God that another mission awaited them.

As he wandered down into sleep, in his ear he could hear Jason yelling over a cacophony of noise and explosions, "Bravo Three – I've you covered." Without hesitation, Sonny breathed out, "Copy that."

And then the phone rang.

Naima was worried.

Ray had come home, but he wasn't really here. Her joy at having him physically in the house to fill up the empty spaces was tempered with trepidation.

Unlike in the past when he came home from deployments, eager to see them; overwhelmed with gratitude that he had survived one more time – this time was different. Although he seemed happy, she could tell he was going through the motions.

Like always on his return, he kissed her, hugged her; stared down into her eyes and professed how much he missed her and the children. How he loved her and couldn't wait to sleep in his own bed without fine grains of sand scratching at his skin…and she believed him. Only it wasn't the same. Her heart skipped a beat as she held him close.

Ray was distracted and spoke little while she updated him on events while he was away. Events he usually appreciated hearing that helped keep him grounded and ready to acclimate back into everyday life. News about the neighbors, Jameelah's new love for soccer, her school and friends; how their baby boy had rolled over and pulled himself up in the crib; the new road changes leading out to the base, and what needed attention around the house.

He nodded while she spoke of such things and soothingly rubbed her knuckles like he always did as they sat on the couch entangled in each other's space. But part of her Ray was somewhere else. She had sensed him close down a bit at their infant son's reaction to his touch, but knew in time it would get better; and knew that Ray understood that too. They had been through this before.

She knew about the boy, his shoulder, the inquiry and thought this must be what held her husband back; away from her. He was a good man, a religious man who felt things deeply – who always wanted to do the right thing; who agonized over his own shortcomings; and leaned heavily on the word of God. He would carry his part in that child's death with him always.

Naima placed her head on her husband's chest; listened to the cadence of his beating heart and breathed in the scent that was distinctly him. Here was her Ray, the love of her life – her soul mate. If she were to lose her sight, there was no doubt that she could wander in the darkness...find him and know him.

They shared so much of each other – the good, the bad, the ugly and all that other stuff whirling in-between. Maybe this was something he would always keep buried, to bring out and look at alone without her.

Naima felt the warm air of his breath tickle her hair and burrowed deeper in his arms. She could not lose him. Not after all these years of hard work, trust and love between them. They would weather this storm together. She would not back down and let this distant clone of her husband wrest him away and leave her bereft.

Meer hours. He had only been home for hours and she knew that she had a fight on her hands.

"I promise you", she whispered softly; and squeezed him hard about the waist.

"Promise me what?" Ray asked, his brow furrowed, confused as the conversation seemed to have taken a turn in a new direction.

"That I'm here for you. That I'm going to win."

Ray laughed softly; touched her cheek then kissed her forehead. And there with that unmistakable twinkle in his eye was her husband staring down at her - his face an open book of love, pain and regrets. Gasping with relief, she kissed the side of his mouth, once; twice – three times in succession then hummed with pleasure, as he returned each peck with one of his own. Tears welled up in her eyes then fell without shame.

Ray tenderly thumbed them away and responded in earnest, "I'm counting on it babe."

In that moment Jameelah rushed into the room and grabbed her father's hand, pulling and begging as only children do, "Daddy, come look at my room now and see!"

Ray stood then and let his daughter lead the way as she chattered on about the new pink paint on the walls, and how she couldn't wait for him to see it.

As his warmth receded from her side, Naima could hear his laughter booming; bouncing off the walls filling their home up with his presence.

Sighing with relief, glad to hear her husband laugh, Naima steeled herself for the battle to come. Maybe this mood Ray found himself in had something more to do with Jason. Keeping such a secret about his injury would surely cause a rift…they were so close, and she was no fool.

There would be repercussions. But she had made a promise and would keep it.

Then the phone rang.

TBC

Thank you for reading! Please leave a review and let me know what you think. Your comments and thoughts are much appreciated. Also, thank you to everyone who read chapter one and left a review. Your comments mean a lot.