One Month Earlier

The medical team was waiting for the truck when it pulled up to the gates of the base. McG was the first one out of the truck. "Tachycardic at 140, O2 sats 89, tachypnic. Multiple puncture wounds to the legs and abdomen," he called. Her breathing had grown increasingly shallow as they drove. Any deep breath caused her to wince and grab at her chest. He was fairly sure there were some broken ribs when they left Tehran. If she managed to get through a six hour drive without one piercing her lung, it would have been a miracle. Her left ankle was a mess. He couldn't even begin to guess what that needed without some images.

Dalton helped her down from the flat bed into the waiting arms of the medics waiting with a gurney. They were calling out orders to each other. "Saline, wide open," a doctor called. "Chest x-ray, forward and lateral," he called, listening to her chest as they began to move away from them through the mid-day sun to the medical facility.

"BP is 86 over 40," a nurse called. "O2 sats are falling. 82."

"Get some oxygen on her. 10 liters. Come on. Let's move."

"What's happening?" Dalton asked the team's medic as the team moved away from the truck that had taken them out of Iran.

"She's lost some blood, and she's dehydrated. She probably has some broken ribs. One might have punctured her lung."

"Is she stable?" Dalton asked. She'd seemed okay when they first crawled out of the floorboards of the flatbed, but soon she grew tired. Of course she did. Who knew the last time she'd slept. Or ate. He thought it was a good sign, but McG saw it. Of course he did. When she leaned against a crate and her eyes closed, he was watching her, taking her pulse and messing with things in his medical bag.

"She's fine, Top. They'll fix her up."

Preach and Amir were by their side as the team crossed the dusty roadway, following the path of the gurney that had raced away from them.

Dalton spent the afternoon watching the sun slide through the sky outside the small window in the reception area. It was almost dusk when she called his name.

"Captain Dalton?" A woman in a lab coat asked, coming into the area where the four men waited. Dalton and McG were on their feet. "Sargent Khan is doing well. We put in a chest tube to re-inflate her right lung. She has three broken ribs that we set, as well as her left ankle. Most of the puncture wounds were superficial, but we stitched up the deeper lacerations. Once we get her hydrated, I think she's going to be fine."

"Where is she?" Dalton asked.

"We're moving her to a room now. She's sedated. She'll probably sleep through the night. You should all get some rest. You can see her in the morning," she said with a smile.

But Adam Dalton stood indignantly. "We leave when she leaves," he told her.

McG tried to decide if the doctor looked confused or annoyed. "She's perfectly stable, Commander."

"Good. I'm glad to hear it. We'll leave when she leaves," Adam told her again.

Preach and Amir had come to stand with them, all watching the doctor's response. Finally she gave a shrug. "Come with me," she finally conceded and the four men followed her down the corridor.

Dalton could see her dark hair standing out against the pale sheets of the hospital bed. Nurses were still moving around the room, hanging IV bags, and attaching monitors. Jaz looked peaceful, if a little smaller somehow, in the hospital gown draped over her body.

The doctor stopped at the edge of the curtain. "She needs to rest. You've all seen her now," she started.

"Yeah, we'll take it in shifts," Dalton said, heading off the doctor's attack. "You guys hit the racks. I'll stay." No one on his team was going to fight him.

"I'll come back about 04:00. I want to be here when the doctors round in the morning, make sure I know what's going on," McG said nodding.

Amir agreed. "Come on," he said. "Let's let her rest." He and McG turned to leave.

It was Preach who stood next to his friend. "You okay?" he asked Adam quietly.

Adam's jaw was tight. "Yeah."

"Top," Preach said calmly. "It's been a bad day."

"Yeah," Dalton said again. "Get some rest. Call your family. You can take tomorrow noon."

Preach knew his friend well enough to know what that meant. He wasn't ready to talk about it. Adam's friend was dead. His team mate was lying in the hospital. He hadn't slept in days. Preach wouldn't push. Not tonight. "You got it, Top. When you're ready," he said with a knowing nod. "Whenever you're ready." He gave his friend a slap on the shoulder, then turned and walked to meet the rest of the team, headed home.

Adam made his way into the curtained room. He wasn't waiting for an invitation. There was a chair near the corner, and he quietly moved it to be near the bed.

"She needs her sleep," a nurse told him.

"I know," Dalton said with a small smile. "You won't even know I'm here," he told her, sitting down in the chair. He could be charming when he wanted to be, when it served his purpose. He smiled at her again.

She tilted her head to the side, looking at him sadly. "Can I get you anything? Do you want a blanket?"

Adam shook his head. "Thank you," he told her. All he needed was for Jaz to be okay.

He spent most of the night thinking about the mission, what had gone wrong, about his friend giving his life for Adam's team. Maybe it wasn't really for Adam. Maybe it had been for Jaz. They had already taken his daughter. He wouldn't let them have Jaz too. Hussein was a good man. He had been a good friend, and he had gone out fighting, like he would have wanted. But Adam still hurt. He'd felt the hurt building for hours. How many friends had he lost? How many times had he sat in the dark and wanted to scream in anger at the injustice of it. Of all of it. It hadn't been a full year since they buried Vallins. Now Jaz was lying there, surrounded by machines with a quiet, repetitive, rhythmic beeping of her heart monitor letting him know she was alive.

Nurses would come and go every few hours. They would hang a new bag of fluid, or push a syringe of something into the IV in her forearm. Jaz didn't stir. For a while Dalton slept with his head against the bed railing. When he woke up with two numb feet, he decided to stretch it out in the hallway for a while. The hospital noise seemed to be the same, whether it was noon or midnight. Still Jaz slept. He watched the fluid drain into her, a slow, constant, drip. Her body was mostly covered, tucked neatly under sheets, hidden by a gown, except her face and hands and arms. Her knuckles were bruised. He quietly picked up her hand and turned it over in his. There were bloodstains on her skin. There were stitches in her upper arm. They'd cut her. Torture. They'd tortured her. While Adam sat in relative safety, he had let them torture her.

Dalton didn't have words to describe Jasmine Khan. She was the best shot he knew. She was tough as nails in the field. But she loved to laugh, to kick her feet up and throw her head back and laugh. She would sneak up and knock his hat off, and just laugh. She could take a shot just as easy as she could give one and never backed down. Sometimes it was like she wanted you to forget she was a woman, like she was more comfortable being one of the guys. But she was a woman. And sometimes, just for a minute she let it show. In a look or the way she tucked her hair back, or the way she walked. Sometimes it was like she could get right in his face and demand he saw her as both, the sniper and the woman, and he didn't know what to do with that.

"Jaz," he whispered into the quiet of the room. He looked at her hand resting in his. He had held her hand just like this as they made their way into the Tehran airport. He'd touched her and held her close, like a devoted husband would. He'd played the part, but it felt uncomfortable. This was Jaz. She didn't need anyone to hold her. Except that one night, just after Vallins' died. She'd sat on the couch in the middle of the night, staring at nothing. He'd watched the tears spill down her cheeks. He'd just sat there with her for a long time, before the tears stopped coming, and he reached out and put his hand on her knee, tucked up to her chest. She'd been with him more than two years, but that was the first time she'd reached out and clutched his hand. They'd sat like that for hours, not saying anything. There was nothing to say. Vallins was dead. Words wouldn't bring him back.

He hadn't commanded a lot of women. He never forgot that she was one though, never. He just didn't believe that made her less. So why did this hurt so much? Why did it feel so different than when any of the guys got hurt? Was it because he'd pushed her? Did she feel like she had to go in there to make him happy, to make him proud of her, to prove something to him? He looked at her in the pale light of the room. She didn't look tough as nails. He should have protected her. She wasn't one of the guys, and he knew it. He'd grown used to her by his side. He liked holding her hand, too much. He looked forward to the moments when she let herself be a woman, and it scared him.

He moved to sit on the edge of the bed, her hand still in his, and let himself look at her, really look at her; the curve of her lips and the way her cheekbones almost made it look like she was still smiling. She looked younger, somehow. Vulnerable. Dalton heard an air vent kick on and a slight breeze fluttered through the room, catching a bit of Jaz's hair and blowing it across her forehead. He reached out and brushed her hair back, letting his fingers brush through her hair. He hadn't meant to. He hadn't even thought about it. He'd let his guard down.

In an instant, everything in the room changed. Somewhere in his mind, he had heard a rapid increase in the quiet beeping of Jaz's heart monitor, but he didn't have time to react. He felt his body being jerked around before he knew how or why, then Jaz's forearm press into his throat violently, so hard he couldn't breathe or make a sound. She was crushing his airway. Reacting on instinct, he grabbed on tighter to the hand he held, while she fought to get it over his head. She would snap his neck if he let her, he knew she could, as she fought and clawed at his skin to get free. "Jaz," he choked out, without much sound at all. "Jaz!" Monitors were screaming now, or maybe those were in his head. He couldn't breathe. He tried to turn his head to get a look at her. What was she doing?

"Jaz!" Dalton heard someone yell. The curtain flew back and McG and Amir came running. Amir pried at Jaz's arm around Dalton's throat, while McG went for Jaz. "Jaz!" he called again shaking her. "Jaz! LET GO!" For a moment, everything froze, and as suddenly as she had grabbed him and twisted him into a choke hold, she went completely limp. Amir grabbed Dalton's arm and yanked him away from the bed. Adam gasped for air as he coughed, turning to see Jaz, sitting up in the bed, her eyes wide with panic, darting around the room like a caged animal.

"You're okay," McG told her soothingly. Everything's okay now," he said trying to ease her back into bed. Her eyes moved over and locked with Dalton's as he rubbed at his neck, and he saw them fill with tears.

Before either of them could speak, the room filled with nurses and doctors. "Come on," Amir said, pushing Dalton out of the curtain and a few steps down the corridor. "What happened?" he asked quietly.

"I don't know," was all Adam could say.

"She could have killed you."

Dalton didn't know what to say. He could hear the commotion a few yards away. "Push Ativan," he heard a doctor say.

A few minutes later, McG came towards them. "You okay?" he asked Dalton, who just nodded.

"What's going on?" Dalton asked.

"She's on so many pain meds, Top. She didn't know who you were. She probably didn't know who she was."

"It was just instinct," Amir added. "Adrenaline."

"Yeah. Don't worry about it." Adam told them, a little dazed. He didn't want to talk about it, to dwell on it. "What time is it?"

"04:00," McG answered. "You should go home, get some sleep."

"Yeah, we've got this," Amir told him.

"Is she okay?" Dalton asked, looking through the two of them to the curtain that separated him from Jaz.

"They gave her more Ativan. She's asleep again. They're gonna take another look at her ribs; make sure she didn't hurt anything. She was really out of it, Top. Something probably just startled her."

Adam thought of his hand in her hair, of brushing his thumb along her forehead. She had looked so weak. He shook off the memory. "Okay, Preach and I'll be back at noon. If the docs say anything…"

"We'll let you know," McG finished his thought for him.

"Yeah, okay," Dalton said unsure of himself. Jaz had just done her best to snap his neck. He knew she didn't mean it. He knew she'd been fighting for days to stay alive and with the pain meds… she didn't understand what she was doing, but he was shaken up and he didn't want the guys to see it. "I'll head out," he said pushing his hair back.

"Top," Amir called. "You're bleeding."

Adam followed Amir's eyes to his hand and pulled his hands down to see them. There was a deep scratch where Jaz had tried to break free from him. "It's nothing," he told them.

McG was reaching out for his hand. "Let me take a look," but Adam pulled back.

"It's nothing. I'll see you in a few hours," he told them and turned and walked away.

Jaz turned her face away from the curtain. McG's hand was on her shoulder. "It's okay," he kept telling her. The nurses were pushing and pulling at things, but Jaz was too scared to move. Too scared of what she might do. Images of white floated in and out of her mind. It was hard to stay in the real moment, with McG. She had been in a white space, and someone was touching her hair, that's all she remembered. She had to fight. But when she saw Dalton looking at her… It had been him. She had tried to strangle him, tried to snap his neck. She could have killed him. Like she killed Jarif. Just him and her. With her bare hands. Fight. That's what she was trained to do. "It's okay," she heard McG say again as everything started to fade away again. She felt like a freak, like a monster. Dalton was her friend. What if she'd hurt him? She didn't trust herself, didn't trust what was real. Nothing was okay.

Adam was still rubbing his neck when he came into the steel domed building that Team 7 called home. Preach was waiting for him at the table. "How is she?"

"Resting," Adam said, leaving the rest of it alone. "Did you talk to Gabby?" he asked.

"Yeah," Preach answered. "She said to tell you she's worried about you. You want to talk?" he asked.

Dalton shook his head.

"You want somethin' to eat?"

Dalton shook his head again. He walked over to the first aid station and grabbed a bandage and some ointment for his hand. "I just need some sleep," he told his friend.

"True enough," Preach answered. "But sooner or later, you need to talk to someone."

"Yeah," Adam agreed without really meaning it as he walked towards his room. "Sleep first," he said letting the door close behind him.

He'd crashed hard for a few hours at least. He got to the shower. It felt good, like a new start for the first time in a week. But Preach was still waiting for him in the common room. Dalton made his way back to the first aid cart to grab a fresh bandage, then to the fridge.

"What happened to your hand? It was fine when we got home," Preach asked without looking up from what he was reading.

"I scratched it." Dalton told him, pulling the bandage across the scratch.

"Jaz scratched it," Preach corrected him, finally looking up to watch him.

"Who called?" Dalton asked.

"Amir," Preach answered honestly. "I think he's a little on edge about it," he said putting his book down and coming towards the kitchen. "I mean it's not something you see every day. Sure, we all want to kill you on occasion, but we don't usually give it our best shot."

"She was drugged," Adam said defensively.

"I know."

Adam gave up. He sat down at the table and surrendered. He'd known Preach too long. "What do you want me to say?" he asked.

Preach just watched him, then shook his head. "I want you to admit it's been a bad week."

"I think that could safely be called an understatement."

"And that we're all gonna need a minute to deal with it," Preach added.

Adam nodded. He could admit that.

"You feel responsible for it all, man," Preach started, but Adam shook his head. "Yes you do. Don't lie to me," he said sitting down across from him. "But we all signed on for this, me, Joseph, Amir, Jaz…and Hussein." Adam looked down at the table and started to shake his head again. "Yes he did. He knew what he was doing and he made his own choices. He knew what he was doing," he repeated. "So did Jaz. She made her own choice."

"I ordered…" Adam started to say, but Preach interrupted him.

"I was there, man. I was right there. It was her choice. She made it. And you fought for her," he told him emphatically. "She's here because you wouldn't give up on her. You got her back. She's okay. You don't have to keep trying to save her now."

Adam looked up into the knowing eyes of his friend across the table. He wasn't talking about the mission anymore.

"Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but you're gonna need to figure that out, before it causes a real problem out there."

"What are you talking about?" Adam asked, denial being his main go- to when it came to how he felt about Jaz.

Preach looked back and shook his head, as if he were disappointed in his friend.

"I can't… I'm not doing this now, okay?" he said standing up from the table. "I need to get back to the hospital," he said looking at the time. It was almost noon.

"It's my shift," Preach said calmly. Didn't he ever get flustered?

"Yeah, well, I'm coming too." He walked into his room and found his socks and boots.

When he came back into the common room, Preach was standing calmly near the communication table. "I'm going. You're needed here," Preach said pointing to the secured laptop. "It's Command." With a nod, Preach turned and walked out the door.

Dalton dropped his boots and walked to the computer and sat down before activating the link. He expected to see Patricia. Maybe Noah if things had gone south. But instead there was a large balding man filling the screen.

"Captain Dalton," he greeted him. "I'm Acting Deputy Director Michael Cummings, how is your team?"

"Fine, Sir. Jaz… Sergeant Khan," he corrected, "is still needing some medical care, but she's stable. Where's Patricia?"

He saw the man scowl. "Deputy Director Campbell has been suspended pending hearings."

"What kind of hearings?" Dalton asked flatly.

"The kind of hearings you should expect when you possibly commit treason."

Adam felt his temper flare. "What she did was to bring an officer home safely."

"That's really for others to decide at this point, Commander," he said dismissively. "My call was to inform you that we're pulling you out for a while."

Adam's veins turned to ice. "Sir?"

"Team 7, we're bringing you in. Take some leave. Get some rest. It's been nine months."

"With all due respect, we don't need it. There's too much going on…"

"You're a man down."

"We can operate on a four man team. We've done it before. Jaz'll be ready for duty in a couple of weeks."

"That's not the medical report I received. Either way, the decision has been made. Get your team on transports and make your way home. You're assignment has been suspended until further notice."

"Leave? For how long?" Dalton asked.

"Until further notice," Director Cummings repeated indignantly. "Make sure you clear out all your personal items. Another team will be arriving in one week. I expect it empty for them. Clear?"

"Yes, Sir," Adam answered through his clenched jaw.

Dalton made his way back to the hospital to find Jaz's bed surrounded by Amir, Preach and McG. She was awake; her large almond eyes looked calm. There was no sign of the panic that had been there before. She sat partially upright, McG holding her hand. "Jaz," he said with a nervous smile. "Welcome back."

Jaz looked down at her sheets. She tried to smile, but it didn't really come out right.

"She's lookin' good."

"My ankle's broken," she finally said.

"We sorta figured," McG told her.

"It'll heal," Preach encouraged her.

Amir was watching Dalton. "What's wrong?" he asked. "Are they sending us back out?"

Adam looked around at the group. "Let's talk outside," he told them. "Let Jaz rest."

Each of the men stood. Preach patted her leg softly. "I'll be right back," he told her.

McG and Amir said a quick goodbye and filed out of the curtain.

"Top," Jaz called out before Dalton could turn to follow the rest of them.

He looked back at her. She looked scared, and kept looking away from him.

"I don't know what-" she hesitated, but Adam shook his head.

He reached out and took her hand, bending over slightly to look her in the eye. "Don't worry about it," he told her. "It's not even a thing."

She saw the bandage on the back of his hand. "Did I do that?" she asked quietly.

Dalton squeezed her hand. "Don't worry about it," he said again slowly emphasizing each word. "We're good. Okay?" Jaz slowly nodded. "I'll be back in a bit," he told her with another squeeze of the hand and he headed out after the team.

"What do they mean by suspended?" McGuire asked.

"Just a suspended assignment. It's leave, okay? They've put us on indefinite leave," Dalton tried to tell them.

"So what are we supposed to do?" Preach asked.

Dalton looked back at his friend. "Go home," he told him. "Go spend some time with your family. We have to be out of here by next week. I'm gonna try to get some more answers from Noah if I can. In the meantime, we pack up."

"And some other team's just coming in here, taking over?" Amir asked. Adam nodded.

"Who?" McGuire asked.

"I don't know. I've told you everything I know." Adam put his hands up in surrender.

For a few minutes the team stood huddled in the corner of the driveway silently. "Where're you gonna go?" Preach finally asked Amir.

Amir shook his head. "I don't know. My parents are in Chicago. I haven't seen them for more than a few days in three years. You?"

Preach smiled. "My girls are waiting for me."

"Daddy, Daddy," McG squeaked and got a shove from his friend. It felt good to laugh with them. "I think I'll stay with Jaz until she's better," McG told them. It felt like he should. "I'll talk to the docs at least. What about you, Top?"

Dalton looked back at him. "I don't know. I guess I go home."