Title: Dark Alley - Chapter 7
Disclaimer: This is intended as a fan fiction, on characters owned by their original creators and I am not making a profit out of it.
"Mack," Grey's voice was nothing more than a hoarse croak but relief showed on Mack's face as he visibly sagged.
"It is good to see you back with us, buddy." Mack unfolded himself from the wooden crate that he was sitting on, stretching muscles that hadn't moved in far too long.
Grey answered with a woozy smile of his own. Mack held a cup to Grey's mouth, feeling his initial concern ease. The fact that Carlito had regained a consciousness slowly was a sure sign that his fellow soldier knew himself safe, a thought that allowed him to drift back into drowsy awareness that his body much preferred to instant combat alertness. Mack knew the feeling well, had known other times himself where the subsequent discovery of drugs and pain and IV-lines were secondary.
"Hey..."
"Shit, I'm down... I'm... down..." Grey was groaning like a drunk. He grimaced, screwing his eyes shut as he tried to chase the overwhelming flood of memories, unraveling to the sudden stillness of his own body and the knowledge that he was not in danger anymore.
"You're OK. No worries. You're OK. We're in the old compound. You're safe." Mack could see a certain relief in Grey's eyes, and he was comforted to see that the man wasn't that out of it.
"Kiff... " Grey hissed softly.
"What?"
"Kiff..." The dim light was just enough to see Grey's hands moving, grabbing the blanket that covered him.
"Keith? Who is Keith?"
"Kiff... Saw... Kiff..." Grey tried to focus his eyes again but his pupils were dilated, unable to see his rescuer clearly. "I saw him, Mack. He is good..." His right hand plucked weakly at Mack's shirt, the IV line pulling from the catheter on his arm.
"God... Oh, God, man... Hector is not— Hector---" Mack faced Carlito, lines of pain etched across his face. "Let go."
"Saw... him..."
After untangling Grey's hand from his shirt and tuck it under the blanket again Mack immediately put a hand over Grey's forefront."You're burning with fever, pal." Frowning, Mack pulled the blanket back and uncovered Grey completely, releasing the heat into the air around them.
"Mack. He is here. Is... here..." Grey stared at him with a fading look on his face.
"Stop! Just an hallucination, bro... Hector is dead."
"Hector is here... See?... Kiff..."
"He is not here, Charlie..."
"I've been with him... Kiff... He is fine..."
"Man... Hear me--- Hear me. You've got a high fever... It's the fever."
"We were together... on the... beach... Kiff... is coming back... to the unit... He is Ok... He told me..."
"Charlie-Charlie-Charlie---" Mack wiped away the beads of sweat on Grey's forehead.
"It was all a mistake... He is just fine... See? Kiff---"
"Whatever, pal. You'll feel better in a while."
"He looks great... You'll see."
"OK. Shut your trap now. No more talk." Mack gave a worried rub to Grey's unruly hair with one hand while checking his pulse with the other. "Your pulse is running like a meth dealer from the Feds, bro. Jonas will be back soon. We'll fix you up in no time."
"Hector is coming back... It was just a nick on his neck... He couldn't talk... See? That's why he couldn't call us..."
"I miss him too, pal. Come on, now. Just shut up and go back to sleep." Mack ordered gruffly, placing his hands on Grey's shoulders.
"He said... you wouldn't believe it..."
"Don't make me tell you again. Enough. That's an order, sergeant. Ok?" Mack's tone was gentle and calm, his hands still firm on his shoulders. Grey's haunted eyes searched Mack's face, hunting for the truth that Mack was quick to give. A look; a sigh, and Carlito went limp. The smaller man had nothing left in him.
"Go back to sleep..."
A grunt was the only answer before Carlito dutifully closed again his eyes and turned his head to the other side.
"Gojka... Gojka too..."
"Gojka? Hey! Wake up! What did you say?" That was not a name that Mack wanted to hear.
"Huh?"
"Gojka. What did you say about Gojka?" Grey was losing consciousness. Close to his ear, Mack whispered urgently, "It's OK, you can talk now."
There was no response. "Grey! Come on, bro, talk to me. We're alone. You can tell me. Tell me about Gojka!" Mack tugged on his sideburns. "Carlito, wake up!!"
Still no movement, barely a breath to show that Grey was still alive.
"Open your eyes... Look at me. Show me your eyes. That's it. That's it." Grey's eyes fluttered, vacant. Mack took Grey's head by the hair, forcing him to look back at him. "Gojka. Did you find Gojka in Baz-el-Had?" Grey looked back at him, eyes unfocussed, and nodded his head without speaking.
"You saw Gojka?" Mack demanded once again.
Grey shuddered, hard, a full-body tremble that shocked the old military cot. Mack grabbed the blanket that he had discarded, wrapping it tightly around his brother soldier. He could feel Carlito drifting away while his dark watering eyes keep staring at him in a silent plea, a deep groan surging from within.
Flashback! Mack knew the signs, knew the hell that Carlito was going through even if Mack didn't know the demons that skittered through the nightmare. Mack grabbed Grey's wrists, both of them, like Grey's life depended on it, and sat by his side, keeping him safe, until the adrenalin ebbed and floated away taking all of Grey's strength along with it.
Limp—Mack couldn't help but check the man's pulse one last time. There it was, fast but slowing as Grey shifted into a deep and restful sleep.