A/N: So this one I'm nervous about- it's so hard for me to do Cougar's voice right when you never actually hear his voice. D: The whumpage continues- Cougar's my favorite target for emotional abuse. 3 Sadly, Jensen gets all my physical abuse. Poor baby.

COUGAR

Cougar could feel the rough floor of the cement through his worn vest as they unceremoniously dragged him into a small, dimly lit room. His whole body was tense and on edge, but he knew fighting back wouldn't do him much good just yet. At least he still had his hat.

"Hey, you staying?"

"Nah, we won't need more than two guys for this one. He's a bit skinny- I heard he was the long range guy. I don't think he'll be a problem."

"Yeah he didn't say a word on the way over either."

"I thought I heard him mumbling something when he first came around?"

"Some sort of Spanish mumbo jumbo crap- curses, probably."

"Alright, whatever then. I'm going to check in and come back. You can warm him up for me if you want."

"My pleasure." The guard left standing in the room turned an unattractive grin on the sniper, while the other flicked a hand signal at the guard outside the door before letting the heavy metal fall shut behind him. Cougar filed all the details away in his head from his slouched position on the floor.

"Well hello there pretty, you speak English?" The tone was mockingly soft, the man's eyes narrowed in amusement. Out of nowhere a boot slammed into Cougar's ribs, pain exploding in his side. Cougar coughed and gasped a bit, further curling into himself on the floor. He wished like all hell that his hands weren't tied behind his back, for more reason than one.

"You answer me, boy!" The man growled low and mean, and Cougar glanced up with dark eyes. The man wasn't that much older than him, though time hadn't been as kind to him. Ugly bastard.

The man kicked him over and stepped on his collarbone, Cougar's hat toppling to the side. He sneered down as he slowly applied greater and greater pressure.

"What, you stupid or something? You some kinda dumb, border hoping spick? Huh?"

Cougar glared at the man and said nothing, concentrating on breathing past the weight so close to his lungs and throat. Then he heard the steel door squeal open and glanced over to see a matching pair of boots marching in. The pressure on his chest receded a little.

"How's it going?"

"Eh, not a peep from the mouse. Man, why'd we get stuck with the retarded one? I can't believe I'm wasting my time on him."

"He can still be useful as leverage, at least. Looks like we've got three, so that's two left over for making the third talk, right?"

Cougar didn't speak, or even growl low in his throat like he wanted to, but he took great pleasure in imagining snapping the man's large Roman nose with the heel of his boot. The one still towering above him, that is. The other one he'd strangle with the plastic that bound his hands.

"Well let's see what he spills out with a little bit more persuasion, maybe he'll drop some names." As the two turned to Cougar, he told himself to keep his temper and not start something he couldn't follow through with. Like dislocating someone's kneecap. As he was yanked up by his collar and pinned to a wall, he stared the man holding him in the eyes and promised death.

It must be around a half hour later when they finally stopped. Cougar lay loose and limp like a felled animal on his knees, head bowed but waiting for opportunity to present a moment. He watched them through his lashes and mussed hair as the two made snide comments to each other on their way out the door. Cougar waits for a few slow heartbeats before moving back to the far wall, slumping against it to rest.

Cougar's eyes snap open at the creaking of the tumblers turning in the door and watches with shadowed eyes as the guard from before reenters.

"Hey there pretty, miss me?" He didn't look at Cougar as he said this, obviously not expecting a response and shutting the door behind him.

"So we decided not to be so nice this time. Wouldn't want anyone to think we were playin' favorites, now would ya?" He turned around wearing that same ugly grin that made Cougar's fingers itch for a trigger. Cougar lay slouched against the wall, as languid as a snake. His hat was untouched by the previous beating, two inches from his foot on the floor.

The man took two steps forward only to halt at the muffled sounds that briefly flared outside the door. He half turned back and cocked an eyebrow, listening. A few seconds of silence later a brisk knock sounded through the door. Cougar watched as he stepped forward, twisted the knob and pulled it open- and saw him jerk in shock as a muffled 'pop' burst to life, then fall to his knees.

His collapse cleared Cougars line of sight, revealing the slender limbs and cocky gun tilt that was Aisha. She flicked her eyes around the room and moved in, Clay a step behind her.

Cougar can feel a wicked grin sneak across his face. He leaned forward as Aisha strode toward him, giving her space to cut his binds with a single vicious, upward tug. Cougar notices his rifle in Clay's off-hand as he rubs some life into his sore limbs.

"Hey Cougs, how you doin'?" Clay asks, waiting for Cougar to get stiffly to his feet before tossing over the snipers prized possession.

"Better now." He responded, catching the rifle easily and looking her over.

"We picked her up in the armory, with rest of our things." Clay answered the non-question, waving a hand at where Pooch and Jensen's guns rested on his belt.

"We followed those men back to your room, so we're back at square one again guys. We need to find the others." Aisha reminded them, a glare on her face as she made sure her various guns were still present and ready. Cougar snagged his hat, slipping it on his head while he moved towards the door. Clay headed into the hall to check the area.

"You're good to fight?" Aisha asked, following Cougar out. Cougar nodded to her in return, throwing his rifle over one shoulder and snatching a spare handgun off Clay's heavily armed belt.

"Cougar, Aisha- follow my lead and keep an eye out. We're heading in deeper." They follow Clay into the labyrinthine building. Only three turns later (direction decided by lighting, noise and guesses) they encounter a promisingly large cluster of guards stationed outside a room with a small rectangular window at the top of the steel door.

Getting rid of the guards was like shooting fish in a barrel. It takes them seconds before the area is cleared, and Cougar's got a hand on the door and he's shoving it inward before the last guy has completely settled on the floor. The door opens into a cement box much like the one he's just left, except for one notable difference.

In the center of the room, facing away from the door, is their transport specialist. He's strapped to the chair by his wrists and ankles, and Cougar's sharp eyes can see the way his chest struggles to take in deep, panicking breathes and how the sweat mixes with blood as it drips from his face. When he glances up at their entrance, his eyes are red rimmed and wide, possibly shock, hysteria or panic. Cougar's vision narrows and he has to remind himself that he has to keep it together or he's useless to them.

The first words out of Pooch's mouth aren't what he would have expected.

"Do you have Jensen?" Cougar also notes that in the pause after Pooch doesn't look relieved at all to see them. Cougar hadn't been expecting any overtures of thanks and gratitude, but a complete lack of concern for his own safety wasn't good.

Pooch was still breathing heavy, wild eyed and disoriented as they locked gazes. It chilled the sniper to his core- the whole world was suspended in time while Cougar left his mind blank, purposely not thinking about what Pooch's response could mean. If he did, then it would all become real.

Clay must not have sensed the static disaster crawling through the air, across their skin, because he quickly responded with, "We haven't gotten to him yet." And then, reckless, strong, determined leader that he was, he said it, "Why?"

Pooch dropped his head with a short out take of breathe- he didn't seem to hear the question at first. Cougar watched as Aisha crossed the room to him, to cut his bindings. Pooch took stilled, shallow breaths as sweat dripped down to the cement of the floor under his nose. Cougar watched Aisha release him in abrupt, violent cuts.

"Pooch, report. What is it?" Clay stirred him to respond.

"We need to get to him. Now. They dragged him in here to show me- he doesn't look good. He was losing blood fast and-"

Cougar doesn't listen to any more. The rest is just details- the basic message is that Jensen needs them, needs him. And he needs them now. He's already out the door before Aisha can help Pooch struggle to his feet. He finds it half on instinct- maybe it was just the way the halls got wider and slightly more populated, maybe it was the flecks of blood he would spot here and there, or maybe he could just sense the pain and tension in the air. Either way he made almost a beeline to a heavy set door with guards flanking it, his rifle in front of him and fired before he even breaks stride. The men crumple in silence. His silencer kept his shoots muffle, and his rush to the door is as quiet as death. . He hears the steady rush of what must be Clay and Aisha somewhere behind him, held back by a damaged Pooch, but he shoots out the lock and throws open the door on his own without waiting.

Inside the room, there was a man examining a familiar blonde haired, crumpled body on the floor. Cougar's heart is like ice, with a fissure-like snap even as he feels the sudden presence of the rest of the team at his back. His vision again narrows, just to this man, just to Jensen's body on the floor.

A rush forward, and the snap his rifle makes when it hits a man in the jaw. Repeated use on his head. Repeated use of his boots into the soft parts of a man, until they drag him off. Cougar struggles to get free until Clay shoots the man in the head. These men aren't cops, and they aren't innocent- there's no reason to spare their lives.

Cougar slumps in tandem with the dead man, a little of his bottomless rage giving way under him. But he shrugs out of Pooch's fragile hold and moves to examine Jensen with Clay.

He's alive, and the vice on Cougar's lungs lets up enough to allow him to breath. Jensen's glasses are cracked, and his usually animated face looks even younger in blank unconsciousness. His ribs feel maybe cracked, but not broken and there's some burns on his hip, his leg, his collar and his palm. A bullet wound in this shoulder. There's a stream of blood trailing down his face, and Cougar thumbs it aside to keep it out of his eyes. The he stands up.

There's nothing more he can do for him here, not right now. Not without better supplies, and a clean space to work. Now was the time for other things he could do. If the others said anything, he didn't hear them, but he thought they probably were wearing expressions mirroring his own feelings about this. Jensen was the kid of the group, the baby of the family. Maybe they weren't all the protector of the group, the guardian dark angel armed with the job of watching their backs, but they felt some version of it. Clay would understand best.

He heads for the door, clutching his rifle in one hand and fingering his handgun in the other, and feels Clay following him out. Maybe it was the other way around, then. Maybe Cougar understood his commanding officer just a bit better now.

When they returned some time later, bloody and dirty and farther from the edge than they were, Pooch had recovered enough to carry half of Jensen's body with Aisha. Cougar and Clay had been gone long enough for the two to get him to the front of the building, and as they helped load him into the van Clay and Aisha had brought, Jensen started to struggle awake.

"You won't… I've been sworn to silence by... the Superhero's Alliance…"

"Jensen, open your eyes man. We need to see if you're okay." Pooch's voice was a few shades more gentle than the tone he usually used with the obnoxious techie. He and Cougar had the back of the van with Jensen- Clay and Aisha had the front. Pooch's broken fingers kept him from driving.

"Pooch?" He cracked a blue eye at him. "Man, looks like someone introduced you to the business end of a baseball bat."

"Do you see yourself right now?" Pooch cracked a laugh out as he said it, but his crooked smile only made his eyes look sadder. Jensen's returning smile looked at best a grimace.

"Yeah, apparently they aren't big Batman fans. And I don't think they appreciated my constructive criticism concerning their mode of operation. Really, you'd think they were run by pack of monkeys. No imagination." Jensen's strangled breathing and pain laced words belied his light tone, and his attempts at jokes looked like they might make Pooch cry. Not that he would. They were soldiers. Cougar knew that, and kept his gaze pinned on the far side of the van as he leaned back against his side, his long legs framing Jensen. Without looking he nudged the younger man, getting him to lift his head and shifted his calf under him, as a protection against the steel floor as they raced over bumps and pot holes. Jensen probably had a concussion, and at the least a headache.

"Thanks Coug." Jensen mumbled, and Cougar nodded back, letting Jensen's renewed one-man conversation wash over him as he drilled burning holes into the opposite side of the van with his eyes.

Cougar wouldn't let this happen again. It had been too close this time, and having Jensen bleed on the floor in front of him was about as pleasant as watching a helicopter full of children blow up in his face. But he couldn't help them. He could help Jensen.

Cougar watched over the other man with a fierce, protective intensity until they reached a safe house back in the city.