Boyclub2
Four weeks in as the only female member of the unit and Bridget had graduated from executing Ryan's laundry list to temporary pointman ...er person for Zeta team. Zeta's main function was running recon until alpha, bravo, charley or one of the other "unit" teams swooped in to claim the bingo prize. It wasn't exactly what she signed on for, but Bridget made damn sure she did it better than anyone else. Red Cap, the call name she wore like a badge of honor, was becoming quite the expert on any variety of topics. Zeta team's bragging rights to her was quickly wearing away as the colonel felt more comfortable with Bridget's abilities and less nervous about her femaleness being a distraction for the men. Of course, a girl can only be a tomboy for so long, so when the building the housed Zeta's operation was the unfortunate victim of an earthquake, select members of alpha and bravo team were sent in to retrieve Bridget and her agency counterpart. It was the first day that Bridget Sullivan had to finally let her guard down.
"Roger that Dogpatch zero six," Bob Brown said crisply into the satellite phone.
Bridget heard his voice clearly and judged that he was standing just a few feet in front of her. Yet opening her eyes to confirm it seemed impossible. There didn't seem to be a word to describe the pounding in her head. Her limbs and eyelids felt heavy. Dehydration was one of her concerns, besides the cracked ribs and the pain screaming at her from her arms, hands, legs and pretty much anything else that moved.
Bridget had lost track of how long she and CIA Agent Jenna Seivers had been trapped in the small apartment. After the building practically cracked in two, she managed to get a distress call out to the TOC on what little life was left on her computer. Then part of the building collapsed and completely sealed them in. Bridget thought she had escaped major injury, but falling debris had pinched Seivers. Bridget hadn't heard from the woman in hours and wasn't even sure if her partner was still alive.
"Anything?" Cool Breeze asked.
"She's dead," the voice of Roy Zaptoff replied.
Bridget heard movement close to her and again struggled to see what was happening. She felt a hand on her arm and flinched at the contact.
"Bridge, it's me. I'm not going to hurt you," Bob said softly.
Red Cap felt Bob's hand on the side of her face and could smell his aftershave in every breath. It was a comforting sensation compared to the dusty taste in the room for the past however long she had been trapped. Distracted by Bob's smell, she barely was aware of her head tilting back or Bob pushing her eyelids up and blinding her with a flick of his flashlight.
"She's got a pretty big knot on the back of her head. Her pupils are dilated," Bob said to Zap. "Bridge, are you with me?"
The words were hollow in her ears. Between the thick odor of Bob's aftershave and the muffled sounds of a room, Bridget felt like she was having an out of body experience. She could see a fuzzy outline of the sergeant in front of her and could hear long drawn out sounds coming from his mouth, yet she could do nothing to move or even answer him. The static in the air, Zap's conversation on the phone, the clatter of the laptop being ripped apart, the whoosh of the fire engulfing the metal casing were all happening at a snail's pace. Bridget knew exactly what was going on, Bob had tasked the staff sergeant into clean up mode while he assessed her injuries.
"Red Cap, can you hear me?" Bob asked her again. His hand was on her chin, pulling her focus only to him.
"Hmmyaiekdysa," Bridget mumbled, thinking she spoke coherently. It was clear in her head at least. I can hear you loud and clear. The next breath Bridget took included a searing blast of smelling salts up her nostrils. The reaction was quick, her eyelids popped right open, her stomach lurched and her breath caught in her throat as she fought to keep her stomach contents inside her body. "Ugh, shiz," she mumbled finally able to form a coherent thought.
"That's my girl," Bob called not letting go of her face. "Bridge … can you hear me? Do you know who I am?"
As her vision began to clear, she looked up into his warm hazel eyes. "Cool Breeze," she gasped, cognizant of his code name. "Ugh, I don't feel so hot," she mumbled rolling her head to the side.
"Well, I'm no doctor, but I suspect you have a concussion," Bob said. He handed her a canteen of water and helped her hold it while she drank. "Easy," he whispered as she gulped it. "Too much will make you barf. How many fingers?" he asked holding his hand in front of her face.
Bridget blinked to focus as she swallowed hard. I hate this game, she thought silently as she said three aloud. Yeah, yeah yeah, Bridget thought as she listened to Bob rattle off a dozen standard questions and she answered all of them about her ability to walk out of this hell hole and get back to the states. She could hear Zap in the background talking on the phone to the TOC getting their orders for a pick up.
"Navy will pick us up at the beach," Zap said shoving the phone back in his pocket.
Bridget trailed her gaze from Zap to Bob still squatting in front of her. The two men looked the same. Same bald head, same I'm in the military features. "I have to pee," she grunted as Bob slid his arm around her waist and helped her to stand up.
"You're going to have to hold it until we get to the boat," Bob said draping her arm over his shoulder.
"Ugh, not the answer I was looking for," she moaned as her crumpled body was forced up on her feet. She felt sick and hot all at once and slumped into Bob's body. "I can walk," she protested unsuccessfully.
"Really, ya could have fooled me," Bob remarked. "Man you're worse than Carlito. Zap give me a hand."
"Shezz, you're comparing her to Grey? It's a good thing we have a car," Zap laughed catching Bridget right before she collapsed to the floor.
Bridget started to cough and tasted the acidic rot of bile in her throat. "Bathroom," she said pointing across the room. The boys got the message quick and steered her toward the latrine. She barely made it to the stool as she coughed it all up into the drain. Someone is standing behind me, she thought as she bowed to the porcelain god. The hint of Bob's essence filled the air and any apprehensiveness flew right out the window. As Bridget tried to balance the battle in her stomach with her tough girl act, she felt Bob's hand at her neck. He's pulling back my hair, she noted as heat enveloped her body. Bet he does that to his wife, she thought when he ran his hand over her back to comfort her.
"You better?" he prompted as Bridget gasped for air.
"Better than dead?" she coughed. She sat back on her haunches and reached for the cabinet door under the sink.
"What'd'ya need?"
"Mouthwash," she mumbled grabbing the bottle and taking a long hard swig. She heard Bob chuckle as she swished it around in her mouth and spat it in the can. "Better," she mumbled dropping the capped bottle on the floor. She stood up and out of habit flushed the toilet. Shit, that was dumb, she thought staring at the swirling clump empty down the pipe.
"I'm surprised that worked," Bob grunted hanging onto Bridget's arm.
"Bob, I need…" Bridget's voice trailed off and she held his gaze. I need to pee dammit before I wet myself, she practically cried. I'm surprised that I haven't already done it. She stared into those damn hazel eyes of his and watched him consider the gamete of options before him. She could just order him out and kick the door shut behind him, but that wasn't exactly her style. Colonel Ryan pulled rank and gave orders. Bridget Sullivan was whatever the team needed her to be … even though she out ranked every damn one of them.
"Okay," he finally relented. "Make it quick and don't flush."
-0-
It was ten blocks to the beach and on a sunny day in Missouri it would have only taken a few minutes. But they weren't in Missouri by any stretch of the imagination and it was definitely not a sunny day. The threesome made it six blocks in the truck before some local yahoo shot out the tires out and put them on the run. On foot, it took several more minutes to their pickup point and that was slowed by the looters and the street thugs. At the beach, Cool Breeze dropped Bridget behind a wrecked out car and ducked to provide cover fire while Zap called in the water taxi. The fresh air seared Bridget's nerves with each breath quickly reminding her that every part of her body was on fire. It didn't hurt this much when we were running, she contemplated as she fought back the tears and tried to stow her emotion while her body felt like it was going to break in two. Just when she was sure it couldn't get any worse, things blew up in her face.
"We need to swim out," Zap whispered hoarsely. "The local government has refused the Navy's offer of aide. They can't get any closer without drawing fire."
Bridget looked at Bob just as he glanced back at her. "Do they understand that she's injured?" he said turning his head to look at their surroundings.
"They'll meet us on the way," Zap replied flatly as he pulled his pack off his back.
The conversation went on over her head as Bridget listened without saying a word. I can swim. I swim in a pool, not good, but at least I don't sink. I passed basic swimming at boot camp, she repeated in her head as she silently prayed that Zap was just making a joke and the Navy boat was going to run up on the beach any second. The reality was that it wasn't a joke and there was no boat in sight for miles on the water. Bridget watched Zap fuss with his pack and shove the hard drive from her laptop into a waterproof bag. She felt her stomach lurch in her gut. She started coughing just as street thugs sprayed the car with bullets.
"Get her outta here," Zap yelled laying some cover fire down. "I'll be right behind you."
Bob slid his arm around her waist, hauling her to her feet and headed toward the water.
Bridget scanned the horizon in the hopes that a boat was miraculously going to appear and found nothing. She stopped short at the water's edge and started to freak out. I can't swim, she rolled around in her head as she started to hyperventilate.
"What's wrong?" she heard Bob ask her after noticing her obvious hesitation.
"There's no other way?" she asked looking around wildly for another solution.
"No." Bob secured his pack to his body and started heading for the water. "Lose the sweater, it'll soak up water and weigh you down," he said crisply.
"I can't," Bridget balked.
"Yeah you can," Bob replied missing the clue in her eyes that it was her fear of the water that was causing the hiccup ... not that he asked her to strip in front of him. "Just like wearing a bikini top."
"No Bob," Bridget said grabbing his arm. "I can't do it. I can't swim." She watched his head whip around and she searched his face for some compassion for her predicament.
"You can't swim," Bob repeated plainly. "At all?"
Bridget looked out at the shoreline and into the horizon that led to nothing but water. Deep, dark cool water. She was sure there was a Navy ship out there waiting for them and a dingy full of Navy seals on their way to the rendezvous site. But none of that gave her any comfort. It didn't matter what the pluses were, it was still water that she wasn't comfortable in. "In a pool where I can see the bottom and touch it," she finally conceded.
"Then just think of it as a big pool," Bob said nonchalantly.
"No, you don't understand…"
"No you don't, warrant officer," Bob interrupted her sharply. "This is our only chance to get out of here, do you got that? There is no other way. The government finds us here we're dead. This is it. We go now Red Cap or we die and frankly, I would really like to get home tonight."
Bridget looked away from him and felt tears in her eyes. I knew I should have stayed with DoD, she thought silently.
"You trust me don't you?" Bob asked Bridget and waiting a moment for her reply. "I'm not going to let you drown. I was ordered to rescue you and I'm damn sure going to see it through."
Bridget felt his eyes boring into her and could barely blink. She felt tears burning down her cheeks and teetered between being completely embarrassed for crying and mad because he fricken yelled at her. I could court martial him for being insubordinate, she thought. She tore her eyes away for a second and glanced back toward Zap. "Fine," she muttered reluctantly as she eyed the damaged skyline of the city.
"Good. Sweater off."
-1-
When her eyes fluttered open, the first sensations that flooded Bridget's mind were an annoying beeping sound, the color gray and a really really hard bed. A kid in surgical scrubs came to take her blood pressure. The guy looked like he was twelve and his words did little to comfort her as to her whereabouts or her status. The only comforting element was the doctor that appeared at the side of her bed with an American flag sewn to the arm of her uniform. The basic information she passed on was no revelation, concussion, bruising, and a sprained ankle. What Red Cap hadn't expected to hear was that she'd nearly drowned and was revived by Sergeant Brown when the seals picked them up.
Guess he wasn't kidding when he said he wouldn't let me drown, Bridget mulled over in her head as she lay back against the mattress. She pulled the blanket closer to her chest and rolled slowly on her side. In theory it seemed like it would feel better that way, although the movement happened in slow-mo and every nerve ending in her body protested. It took her a couple of minutes to get comfortable, which was short lived by an episode of coughing, vomiting and of course, girly crying. So much for being tough, Bridget thought as the med tech cleaned her up and helped her settle into a more comfortable position. Then he left her to contemplate her morality alone.
Two restless hours later, Bridget was still alone in sickbay. People had come into the room for treatment, but no one that she recognized at least. No Zap or Bob or even the female doctor that had treated her hours ago. Shit, even the med tech is gone, she noted starting to feel a twinge of apprehension. The heart monitor above her head began to beep a little faster. Her breathing became a little more labored.
"Bridge, you okay?"
The voice and the hand on her shoulder calmed her nerves immediately. "Bob?" she whispered looking up into those damn hazel eyes of his. "How long have you been here?" she asked pushing up on the bed.
"About an hour," he said adjusting the pillow behind her head.
"Wha? An hour?" she grunted completely confused.
"You were asleep," Bob replied sitting down on the side of the bed. "Your injuries aren't bad. A helo will be here tomorrow to fly us to the nearest base." He hesitated a moment before saying anything else. "You swim better than you own up too."
"Right," Bridget remarked slowly. "I heard you saved my life," she said waving her hands around nervously.
"Exaggeration," Bob shrugged his shoulders sheepishly. "You made the swim okay; you just aren't very good at trending water."
Bob ran his finger down the side of her arm and Bridget relaxed into his touch. It felt good to have man pay attention to her, even if it was for nearly official reasons. "That's why I didn't join the Navy," she muttered leaning back on the pillow.
"Isn't your brother in the Navy?"
"Brother and Dad," Bridget confirmed.
"Hmmh, bet they weren't happy when you joined the Army," Bob grunted with a smirk.
"That's an understatement," Bridget agreed. "I needed to find my own way back then. Now I just need to blend in and not be a spectacle."
"You think you're a spectacle?" Bob asked her.
"I'm at a tactical disadvantage because I'm a girl."
"No, you got that wrong. Our tactical advantage is that you are a girl. It gets us in the door more easily. The bad guys are always looking for a man. No one suspects you," Bob said frankly. "You said so yourself when you asked … or should I say told the colonel that you had joined the team."
"One bold move gets a girl in the door and then stuffed in the closet," Bridget scowled under her breath.
"Hmmph," Bob laughed at her. "You think running recon with Zeta is the closet?"
"It's not in the field with Alpha," Bridget protested. "Or Bravo or Charley. I do all the dirty work and you guys sweep in to claim the prize."
"Ah, that's sounds like jealousy talking Warrant Officer Sullivan," he reminded her. "Our missions would be ten times longer without Zeta's team's efforts. We're all on the same team."
Bridget thought about his words and chided herself for being selfish. "Just not the swim team?" Bridget's frown turned slowly into a smile.
"Yeah, well, I'm sure your recruiter spewed some bull that a soldier never gets wet, but you're not in Kansas anymore," Bob said patting her hand. "I was a life guard in college. I can give you lessons."
"Let's see … you've taught me the sleeper hold, how to properly defend myself in a struggle and now you want to teach me to swim?" She watched an innocent blush creep over his face and a smile light up his eyes. "Is there anything you aren't good at?"
"Well, according to my wife, I'm not good at taking out the garbage or doing the dishes," he chuckled. He shrugged his shoulders innocently and stood up from the bed. "On that note, I'm going to let you rest and get some shut eye myself."
Bridget felt him squeeze her hand and held on an extra second before he walked away. "Thanks Bob."
"Any time partner."
TBC