Chapter 4

Didn't like last chappy that much... Hope to be doing better soon. This is the first plotbunny I've been able to focus on for more than 24 hours.

Jemm: Thanks, I apparently left out the explanation to that. Lemming does communications, but took a course in phsychology for 'fun'. There was supposed to a joke on that, but somehow it got left out...

Is this moving to fast/slow?

Enjoy!

Jaguar woke up slowly, leg throbbing. He groaned softly.

"Jaguar?"

Whose voice was that? Wait...

"Leopard?" he rasped, eyes fluttering open.

A blurry form moved into his field of vision. He could feel something pressed against his lips.

"It's just water," reassured Shark from near by, noting the slight scrunch of his nose.

Jaguar drank slowly, careful not to make himself sick or choke. When the cup was empty, it was taken away.

He blinked again, working to clear his vision. He didn't recognize the ceiling.

"We're shipping out," explained Leopard. "What's the last thing you remember?"

"Getting the pain meds," he responded, eyebrows furrowing. "Everything after that is..."

"They probably gave you a little too much," guessed Shark. "You're a lot smaller than the rest of us."

Jaguar glared absent-mindedly. "Where exactly are we?"

"The back of a truck!" chirped Lemming excitedly.

Jaguar jumped. He hadn't noticed Lemming. Moving carefully, he turned his head. He was in the back of a truck, explaining the humming and vibration. More specifically, he was lying on some sort of blanket on the floor.

He took inventory of his body quickly. A little cold, slight headache from pain meds, leg hurt like hell, but otherwise okay.

Jaguar shifted, then stilled. He didn't have the energy to sit up.

Shark, ever the medic, asked him, "How do you feel?"

"Tired," was the immediate response.

"Does your leg hurt?"

"I've had worse," he dismissed, cursing himself after for revealing information.

"Scale of 1-10," persisted Shark worriedly.

Jaguar blinked. "Why do you care?"

The entirety of S-Unit flinched at the innocent(ish) question.

"Look, brat," started Jackal. "We screwed up. I get it. We get it. It's not happening again."

"I could get Leopard," Jaguar argued, "But why the rest of you?"

"I never really hated you anyway," offered Lemming cheerily.

"Uh, thanks, I think..."

"None of us actually hated you," clarified Leopard. "But we probably shouldn't have ignored you."

Jaguar sighed. "It's fine. My last unit leader actively tried to get me binned."

"Last unit?" asked Jackal.

Jaguar's eyes flashed with fear for a second. He'd slipped up again. What the hell was wrong with him?

Leopard was quick to intervene. "Chill Jag, you don't have to tell us anything."

Jaguar exhaled slowly. "Really?"

"Yeah," agreed Lemming. "It's obviously a touchy subject. You don't have to say anything more than you're comfortable with."

"Thanks. That means a lot more than you probably realize..." Jaguar seemed slightly shaken, but managed a weak smile.

Leopard redirected the conversation, trying to avoid treacherous terrain. "1-10 Jag," he reminded.

"Out of... What? What I've ever felt before or what I think I can feel?"

"What you've felt before," answered Shark. "I need to get an idea of your pain threshhold."

"Hmmm..." Jaguar seemed to think for a minute. "Probably about a six, the meds are wearing off."

Shark jerked in shock, but fired off another question. "What would you class a broken bone?"

"A clean break would be anywhere from a 1 to a 4. It depends on the bone and the number of breaks. "

Shark, though concerned, decided not to pry. "Alright, that's pretty high. I'm not gonna ask. Do you have any conditions, allergies, or injuries that we should know of?"

"Um, just to a couple of more violent sedatives, although that's probably in part because of my bodyweight."

Shark hummed thoughtfully, but made no comment other than, "We've got a ways to go, you should get some rest."

S-Unit, now including Jaguar, conversed quietly for a while. Jaguar drifted off awhile later, feeling oddly secure with Leopard's hovering presence.

Leopard watched the younger male sleep, relaxing with each rise and fall of his chest.

"You should get some sleep too, Leopard," ordered Jackal quietly. "He's gonna be fine."

Leopard stayed put, undecided.

"If you don't you'll end up in the infirmary," threatened Shark.

Leopard blanched, but scrambled under the covers. "Alright, alright!"

Leopard's hatred of hospitals was well-known in Brecon Beacons.

Jackal chuckled as Leopard began to make fake snoring noises, then cuffed him over the head. "Shut up and got to sleep already."

"We should probably get some sleep too," commented Shark.

"Awww~" whined Lemming. "Bed time already?"

Shark snorted. "Don't be such a smartass. Sleep. Now."

Despite his complaints, Lemming complied soon after.

Jackal, naturally a light sleeper, was last to go. His final thoughts before sleep claimed him were about his unit's youngest member. What the bloody hell was a 15-year-old doing in the SAS?