Clay woke up with a pounding head, dry throat and aching body. Man, he hurt in every joint and muscle he had. Ow. He took a moment to gain his senses and gather information to determine the situation he was in. He managed to raise his head and though his eyesight remained blurry, he looked around; a hospital. Great. How the hell had he ended up here?
Trent was gonna be pissed.
He plopped his head back on the pillow with a weary sigh and let his eyes close as he tried to recall what had happened. Details were fuzzy and out of order but...oh right. Bees. He'd been stung multiple times by bees and then…..? Huh, what had happened then? Something must have….okay, right, yeah….good….soooooo….nope, memory not coming to him.
But now? Oh, he knew now. The ER! He growled, shifted uncomfortably on the table…..he hated ER's. Being exposed for all to see, on his back, on a table with plastic cloths under his naked butt, covered by a thin, practically see-thru sheet; poked and prodded and pinched, stuck with needles…ugh.
Trent was gonna birth a freaking cow.
He remembered lying down on his bed because he hadn't been feeling well; his head buzzing and reeling and his chest aching but had he felt that bad he'd allowed the manipulation that had landed him here, naked on a gurney with a needle in his arm and chewing on a tongue depressor? Apparently. Huh. Okay, yeah, he'd been a little weak, little dizzy….head spun if he leaned forward or moved quickly but he'd hit his head - the reason he hadn't been allowed to go with Bravo - so not much of a surprise, except he'd been feeling no ill effects from that prior bump-on-the-head until after the bee incident...…
"Hey." Full Metal hovered in the doorway, medical curtain separating the beds in the ER ward. "Uh…..hi."
Clay rolled his head on the pillow, too tired and too lazy to lift it.
"How…you, ahh, feeling kid?" Scott asked awkwardly. He was way out of his element here. Where the hell was Blackburn? Why didn't Jason respond to any of the text messages? Why didn't someone call? What the hell did he and Derek know about Clay's past medical history? Nothing, that's what. Nadda, zip, zilch, zero. He couldn't answer the doctor's questions and Clay either couldn't or wouldn't.
"Like shit."
"Yeah you….I mean….dude, you look…..well….erhm, you don't look good."
"Yeah, really Sherlock?"
"Do you…..know who I am?" Scott asked tentatively. Since passing out in the ER, Clay hadn't been responsive or coherent; freaking out, zoning out or acting drugged out. The doctors were thinking he'd thrown a reaction to the medication they'd administered to counteract the venom from the bee stings. Medication that Clay wasn't responding to the way they'd hoped.
They were at a loss. Their facility was small, more of an out-patient clinic then a full-fledged hospital, with no specialists or specialties and since he wasn't reacting or responding to treatment as they'd expected him to, they no longer wanted to admit him, they wanted to transport him to a fully staffed hospital in nearby larger city...via ambulance.
Full Metal didn't have much hope Clay would be agreeable - Bravo's rookie wanted to return to base and Full Metal pretty much guessed Clay usually got his way.
"What the hell?" Clay scowled. He was in no mood for games. "Seriously, Full Metal what the fuck is wrong with you? I hit my head, you didn't."
"No…no…..you did, but…..you….I doubt that has anything to do with how you….were….how you're feeling now….you know….when….well, we got here. Maybe the medicine is working. Must be….you…you're awake and you're you."
Clay let his eyes close. What the hell was wrong with everyone? He'd been stung by a bee, okay, several bees but come on! He wasn't allergic. Damn! Who the hell had panicked over the sight of a few red, swollen welts? And yeah, okay, maybe his tongue had swelled but, well….and his lips, his eyes, oh and his cheeks and he hadn't been able to speak with his lips double their normal size, but that did not define allergy! Hell, it hadn't even been enough to get him immediate treatment upon entering the ER!
He didn't feel like medication had made him feel better. Well, not exactly true. He had a distant memory of having a hard time breathing, like Sonny had been sitting on his chest, and now he could breathe without gasping but he really didn't feel any better; still tired, still weak, still itchy, still hot and swollen, his skin still tight and achy. He still….hurt. Modern medicine truly wasn't all that wondrous.
"You taking me home? I need my clothes."
"…..sorry…..what?" Full Metal cleared his throat. "You….were, saying? Wait, you want to go home? Back to the base, you mean?" Where was the fun-loving, happy-go-luck kid he'd spent the day with? "You can't do that!"
"They can't make me stay here." Clay rubbed his ear, his cheek, his forehead. "I don't wanna stay."
"Well….no…but…the doctors don't think…"
And before Clay could say any more, the doctor pushed the curtain aside and began to inform Clay of his condition.
Wow. Full Metal knew the way to approach Clay and coax him into doing something he didn't want to do, was not with ultimatums and demands. The kid didn't blow up until he heard the words, 'transport by ambulance', and then, wow….over-react much? Who would have thought a man who couldn't hold his head up from the ER bed pillow could yell and argue and be so threatening and, erhm, dangerous?
Oh...uh...well...yeah, um,Full Metal much preferred the crazy, active, couldn't-sit-still Clay Spenser over this...this, uh, this one.
The argument between the doctor and Clay finally ceased when Derek entered the discussion and attempted to manipulate him by telling him what Trent would want. Clay calmed down some, uncertain and hesitant, but he allowed a nurse to take his vitals and give him water.
Since Full Metal's attendance in no way appeased their irate patient, the doctor asked him to step out into the hallway while his associate continued with her attempt to placate this patient. He wanted to discuss sedation, the possible use of restraints, tried to convince Full Metal that Clay was a danger to himself and the facility personal.
Derek popped his head around the curtain...duh, doc, hardly sound proof...flat out denied the request and Full Metal backed him up and both tried to talk Clay down, make him see reason and agree to the transfer.
It had been a perfectly-timed call from Blackburn to set Clay straight and make him obey.
***current time, wherever***
Scott rubbed his eyes that burned from stress and fatigue. He'd lost track of time and events and all he wanted was to be back on base, in his bed with Clay Fucking Spenser returned to the care and supervision of Bravo. It'd all happened so fast, it'd been a blur. The ringing of his cell startled him out of his daze. He picked it up and glanced at the screen, eyes not cooperating with the too-bright light. Jason. Oh shit. Somehow, he'd forgotten all about Bravo - he hadn't thought to call them in, well, hours.
"Hullo?" He answered, then winced, pulling the phone away from his ear. He wasn't emotionally equipped to deal with an over-protective Bravo team and certainly not Trent, who was going ballistic. Wow, he'd take a fighting a terrorist cell any day over the spitting fury on the opposite end of the phone that was a worried, missing-their-kid, Bravo.
He was on speaker because everyone yammered in his ear:
"Metal? What did you do?"
Where the hell are you?"
"Are you back at base yet?"
"Where's Clay?"
"What the hell happened?"
"You ever send texts like that again I will drown your ass in a mud puddle."
Scott waited for Trent, for he led the pack, to take a breath so he could get a word in, but apparently the Bravo medic had lungs like a fish and didn't need to breathe air, 'cause on and on he went.
"What the hell were you thinking? You let him poke a bee hive full of bees? (yeah, like bee hives were full of something other than bees) Where the hell were you? Don't you know he finds trouble in his bath tub?! Do you not remember his failed attempt to relocate a tree two days ago? Seriously Metal, what's wrong with you?"
"Aah, not a babysitter Trent," but he was pretty sure he went unheard. Relocate a tree? The hell! Oh, maybe that's how the kid hurt his head - he ran into a tree.
"…I told him to stay in bed, watch porn, eat pizza, how could you let him fuck that up?" Trent continued to rant, unmindful of Full Meta's interruption. "I mean, really Metal, don't let him out of your sight, what it too much to ask? All your fucking photos? Haha."
Full Metal rolled his eyes. "Let him? Let him? I couldn't make him do anything! Do you know him at all?"
"How the hell did he even know there was a hive? And why was he outside without you? Army men? Really? You trusted men from the Army with him?"
"Trent...hey...where's Jason?"
"Right here." Jason spoke up. "Guys...guys...HEY! Enough! Let him speak."
Full Metal was impressed when the grumbling and bickering ceased. He had to get Jason to tell him how to do that.
"He didn't respond to treatment at the so-called hospital the medic at the infirmary sent us to. Not intravenous antihistamines or cortisone or epinephrine and they tried a pretty strong dose of it, almost pure adrenaline." Full Metal said tiredly. He couldn't even remember what he'd told them or texted them.
Trent winced, pinched his nose between his eyes as his head began to pound. How did Clay's fun-filled antics get so serious?
"You said they wanted to admit him?" Ray prompted.
"Yeah, before, but...He was going in and out of consciousness and when he did wake up, he was confused and often combative and didn't respond the way the doctors wanted him to or to their requests to relax and calm down. He didn't want anything to do with me, wouldn't listen and they decided not to sedate him, not with the swelling in his throat."
"Wait…..what?" Trent stuttered. "Sedate? Oh hell no."
"Derek didn't let them." He paused. "Haven't you been listening to me? They're saying anaphylaxis shock."
"No…no…just no. He's not allergic to bee stings!" Trent protested.
"Is he allergic to anything?"
"Uh, yeah!"
"Your on your way back to base?" Full Metal asked.
"Really? You have to ask?" Jason spat.
"How the hell would I know? Not like you responded to any emails or texts." Full Metal said defensively. "It's been hours Jason."
"Mountains Metal, no cell reception." Ray chimed in dismissively. "And oh, yeah, on a job!"
"Then why didn't you call the sat phone?" Brock asked calmly.
"I did too." Trent snapped. When the situation had been comical, not serious.
"Didn't you talk to Blackburn?" Brock asked.
"Yeah, he's off base, but had Doc send the hospital Clay's do's and don'ts."
"Christ Scott, did you do anything right today?" Jason sniped tiredly.
"You know….that's not fair." Full Metal responded testily. "He doesn't come with an owner's manual, so stop yelling at me."
"What? Jesus….all you had to do was…" Trent began.
"Yeah, sorry dude, I didn't take introductory to babysitting Spenser 101." Full Metal continued. "Look, I'm kinda busy and it's late and I'm tired and the road is dark and if I ever have another day as fucked up as this one was, I'm smothering you all in your sleep, and no one, not even the Pentagon, will ever force me to take Clay Spenser on my team."
"Wait, where are you?" Ray asked.
"Driving back to base. They sent him by ambulance to..."
"WHAT?!"
"No…NO!"
"Jesus Full Metal…how did you let that happen?"
"How….did….I? What?" Scott sputtered. "What did I let happen?"
"Just…..why? You let them send him to another hospital? Why would you do that?" Trent asked. Yeah, he had no trouble believing their desire to transport Clay to a larger, better equipped facility. He just didn't like it.
"Why would you leave him? Let him go alone?"
"By ambulance?"
"I...!" And Full Metal exploded. "Shock Trent, shock! He was exhibiting signs of anaphylaxis shock! His blood pressure was low; he had difficulty breathing and trouble swallowing; he wheezes because his chest is tight because his lungs need air and makes him short of breath; his eyes are red and itch and water and his eyelids are so swollen you can't see his pupils; his face and tongue are puffy or bumpy; the welts are red and inflamed and itch; he's complained of a dry throat and a headache and dry eyes and being hot and itchy; his hand is so swollen he can't make a fist; his leg and arm are numb, he says it feels like they're asleep; his nose runs and his mouth itches and he tries to use his tongue to scratch it but it's swollen and he can't! AND DID I MENTION HE ITCHES?"
"Scott!"
"Stop yelling at me."
"And fuck you! All of you!" Full Metal was still yelling. "He looks like fucking Howard Wolowitz on that Big Bang Theory episode with Leonard's birthday party! I'm dealing...been trying to all day...it ain't easy you know, he ain't easy!" He paused for breath. "And where the hell have you been ALL DAMN DAY?!"
"Something's not right. He's not allergic to bee stings." Trent ignored Scott's mini-rant. He knew how frustrating dealing with and handlling Clay could be.
"IV meds eased the symptoms but the doctors said he didn't respond like he should have. At the second hospital, they injected antihistamines directly into his muscle and let me tell you, he did not like that and they put him on IV Corticosteroids."
"What?" Sonny was trying to keep up and understand and grasp what Full Metal was saying but all he heard was, yadda, yadda, yadda...steroids. "Metal…..is he ok?"
"Now you ask." Metal adjusted the rearview mirror, phone balanced on his shoulder with his chin, so he could see into the back of the Humvee. "Get his prescriptions filled in the morning at the infirmary."
"Wait….wait….just wait…..? He's with you? Do you have him with you?"
"I thought you sent him by ambulance to a hospital in another city?"
Full Metal sighed. And this was the problem with telling a story on speaker where five people all heard different things at different times, heard half of what was said, assumed the rest.
"Yes, we're driving home. He responded to the more aggressive meds at the hospital and once the swelling was down and his blood pressure and pulse, you know, heart rate returned to normal, there was no keeping him there."
"But I thought….."
"Didn't you say…"
"You said..."
"They sent him by ambulance to the closest hospital that had the IV meds he needed. Derek went with him, I followed in a Humvee I stole, by the way. Treated and released AMA and now we're driving back to base." Full Metal said tiredly. "Derek's sitting in the back with him."
"How did you get him in the ambulance?" Brock asked quietly. "Sonny, shut up!"
Finally, Full Metal thought, the sole, sane member of Bravo was taking control.
"Blackburn called. He set Spenser straight about a thing or two."
"…let me talk to him." Jason said impatiently. "Full Metal….Scott..hey!"
"Huh? Oh yeah, sure….he's kinda outta it…but you can try."
He passed the phone to Derek who took it with a yawn, shook Clay awake.
"…'lo?" Clay slurred sleepily, roused from his stupor by a familiar voice repeatedly calling his name. "...ooze, is?"
"It's Jason," came the testy reply. "What the hell Clay?"
"Boss….hey….." He rolled his head on the bench. "I…doan…..dn't feel good." He yawned. "You...comin' ta'git'me?"
"Yeah kid, we're on our way."
Derek took the phone when Clay let it drop to the floor. "Hayes? Yeah, it's Derek...huh? We're maybe an hour out from base...yeah...when will you get back? Oh. That long, huh?" He sighed in disappointment. "No, no, we won't leave him alone...doubt he'll stay in the infirmary...what?"
"Blackburn will be there when you get back, leave Spenser with him. Davis will take over. Thanks Derek."
"Uh, sure." He hung up. "Hayes said Blackburn's on base, will take over with Spenser." He told Full Metal.
"Good."
Once Spenser was with Blackburn, he and Derek were gonna hit the nearest bar and get - blissfully soused. That was his plan, he was a man with a plan, just call him Stan, 'cause he just made a new plan.
()()()
Clay was confused, in pain, and assaulted by bites that stung and stabbed so severely, he groaned with a curse. Opening his eyes didn't make him feel any better either. When they first blinked opened, the light hurt, which was so wrong, because it was dark, and they refused to focus, not that he tried too hard to make them do so, and he promptly allowed them to close.
He was either still asleep and dreaming, unconscious and delirious or he had finally lost his mind for he was damn sure he didn't know where he was, what had happened, or who he was with. Maybe he was hallucinating….yeah….induced by copious amounts of alcohol, 'cause he felt like he'd spent a week bingeing grain alcohol like when he'd been twenty-one or so and tried to drink that biker chick under the table. Yeah, he'd failed.
Sighing, he bit his lip against the discomfort that surged a flush of warmth throughout his body and forced his eyes open again. His eyes finally adjusted and focused - tan metal, canvas roof, huge ass gun.
His frown deepened, he didn't remember his feet carrying him into the….where was he? He was confused but didn't feel alarmed. He groaned, shifted uncomfortably on the hard bench he laid on. He was so stiff and sore...he swallowed hard, body flushing with renewed warmth…..oh dear god, he was going to puke! He lurched off the bench, stumbling when the floor proved to be uneven and moving, ended up on his hands and knees, nose between a pair of boots.
What the….? Where was the fucking door? Where the fuck was he and how soon could he leave? He reached out, grappled for purchase, found a handle, pushed down, felt the rush of cool air...and was grabbed, bear-hugged from behind, pushed flat to the floor on his stomach.
"Hey!" Derek yelped in alarm. "Metal! Pull over!" He pulled the door closed.
"Where do you suggest I do that?" He retorted waspishly.
"Then just stop!" He had his hands full, wrestling a determined-to-escape Clay to prevent him from falling out of the Humvee door. "Jesus Spenser...stop...just stop...the fuck you doing?"
Scott slammed on the brakes, brought the heavy Humvee to an abrupt halt. Derek slammed into the back of his seat with a curse. Clay grunted at the weight on his back, tried to push up by placing his palms flat on the floor, stomach already heaving into his throat.
Holding onto Clay by grasping the waist of his jeans with a steel fist, Derek opened the door and let him hang his head over the threshold.
"Derek?" Metal twisted around.
"Give him five."
"Make it three. Can't stay here." Full Metal checked all the mirrors...well, both. There was no rear-view mirror. "Pull him in." He ordered anxiously. The thought of what Jason would do to him if anything happened to the kid hanging of out an armed, military Humvee in the middle of the night made him uneasy.
No, it had nothing to do with Jason. They were vulnerable where they were. Their vehicle hardly inconspicuous. They needed to get moving.
"Go." Derek said finally, pulled Clay back in and closed the door, left the kid on the floor. "Spenser? Hey, yeah you, stay down."
Clay rolled over, remained on the floor on his back, knees raised. He didn't know how much time passed, and though he was no longing heaving and his knees had stopped knocking together, he still had no idea where he was, how he'd gotten there, who was with him…or why. He flopped a limp hand all about the floor in search of something he could use to wipe his mouth. God, he felt awful; truly and utterly and completely awful!
He blinked blearily, slid left, some fogged distant part of his brain telling him he was moving. What the…? Someone was tugging on his arm. He didn't like that, didn't feel afraid, swatted out blindly. Derek swatted back and a slap-fight ensued. Clay was too tired and too sluggish to carry on and soon gave up, allowing the pull on his arm to guide him away from the door.
His arm was released and he rolled to his side, mostly on his shoulder. He held his throat, for surely it had crawled into his mouth and engaged his tongue in a war to prevent being pushed back to where it belonged. Lordy-Lordy-Lordy but he did not feel well. What the hell was wrong with him anyway? Trying to recall what was going on made him dizzy. Fog and cobwebs crisscrossed his memory and muddled his ability to think coherently.
He frowned, fingers massaging his temple over his left eye, bits an flashes of memory pinged – bees stings - he'd had numerous bee-stingers ruthlessly plucked and dug and cut from skin and it had hurt. He'd gone to bed painted in toothpaste and baking soda...and something else, but someone had come barging in, blathering on about allergies and allergic reactions being lethal and bee venom causing renal failure and any hope Clay had of controlling the situation was lost.
So, uh, the ER, then the ER floor, which apparently got you immediate attention for he'd woken up on a table – he growled, without his clothes, damn hospitals always wanted you naked, it's why he hated them – an ambulance ride…needles and tubes and more needles….and then…..and then….nothing.
His nose twitched then wrinkled. His stomach soured and threatened another rebellion and his already black and blue, red-spotted, needle-punctured, swollen body tensed in protest. He hiccupped, his nose blew bubbles, he wiped at it with the back of his hand, panted, a sheen of sweat coated his cheeks and forehead. Gawd, why did he feel like this?
"Spenser? Whatcha doing?" Derek asked quietly.
"Aah…fainting." And he collapsed flat, went limp.
"We close?" Derek asked Full Metal.
"Think so," came the reply. "He okay?"
"No fucking clue."
Blackburn met them when Full Metal drove as close to their barracks as he could get. Davis was with him and neither seemed overly upset or concerned about Clay. They were laughing when Davis opened the back door and greeted Derek.
Full Metal climbed out of the drivers seat, a soldier waited to return it. He half expected MP's to be waiting for him, but apparently Bravo's Lieutenant Commander's pull and influence extended to him.
"Spenser," Davis was saying. "You've done it this time."
"Can he walk?" Eric asked Derek. "Spenser? You with me?"
"Don't bother." Derek blew his breath out. "You manage to rouse him, he's not going to be with it."
"My quarters." Eric said. "I've got his feet."
"Nye...kin...wolk." Clay slurred. "Nay Davis."
"Hey there, what'd you go'n do?" She teased. "So, Full Metal, fill us in, then you and Derek can go sack out."
Huh, he wasn't exactly used to taking orders or suggestions from a logistics specialist, but apparently, she was used to giving them and being obeyed, so he followed alongside her after Blackburn and Derek.
They made it to Eric's quarters when Clay simply decided he was done walking, let go of Derek and sank to the floor, taking Eric him.
Full Metal expected Eric to push Clay off his lap, drag him to the bed, but the Commander repositioned himself and sat where he was, and while he couldn't possibly be comfortable, he allowed the dead weight that was Clay to remain sprawled across his legs.
He snorted, yeah, Blackburn wouldn't do well on an airplane that was preparing to crash. The flight attendants instructions to secure your own oxygen mask before attempting to help those around you would never be obeyed if Blackburn was responsible for securing Clay's.
"Ow." Clay moaned pitifully, shifting uneasily. "Naw." His hands went to his head and he rolled one way, then the other, then back. Eric moved one leg to give Clay more floor space and with his other, used his knee to prod Clay over to his left hip.
"You ok?" Eric asked after several minutes, oblivious to the room's other occupants. "Spenser?"
"Bugger off." He squirmed, slithering his complete way to the floor, willing his stomach to settle. He lay upon something hard but against something soft and warm. He wasn't comfortable but….but he felt safe. Gaining control of his rebellious stomach, he concentrated on focusing his eyes and squinted up into the upside down bearded face of...
Oh shit.
Woozy, warm and nauseous, he used both hands to push up, paused. He couldn't lower his head to his hand, couldn't raise his hand to his head. He remained slumped over, squirmed, wiggled, twisted, grunted but he simply could not get off the floor or off his Team's Commander's lap.
Oh, the embarrassment.
"He's been doped-up or drugged-out or knocked stupid since we left here." Derek explained. "I can get him to come around, but he's groggy."
"Best to just let him sleep." Eric said, motioned to Full Metal and Derek to pick Clay up and move him to the bed. "Let Bravo deal with him, they have the best luck, reeling him in."
"He should be in the infirmary." Derek advised.
"He won't stay. Anything I should look out for?"
"Doc said to worry about his breathing if the swelling worsens." Clay sprawled on the single bunk, Derek gave Eric a hand up. "It's come down a lot, he looks much better."
Davis snorted. "He looks like shit."
"These last two days...I'm telling you Blackburn, don't ever leave him with me again."
Blackburn burst out laughing. "Hell Full Metal, it hasn't even been twenty-four hours!"
"I'm done." Full Metal began to back his way out of the room. "He's all yours, and when Bravo gets back, don't tell them where to find me."
Eric gave him an odd look, Davis, fluffing the pillow, blanket tucked under her arm, gave him the same look.
"Jason is going to kill me." Full Metal said sheepishly. "But...hell, it's Trent who scares me." He confessed with a shrug. "I promised I'd look after the kid, not let him out of my sight and what happens?"
WHAP!
A pillow whacked him in the face, he stumbled back a step. "The hell was that for!"
"You big oaf!" Davis exclaimed. "You daft man! There is no way anyone can 'keep an eye' on Spenser. It's not possible!"
"What?"
"They're not going to blame you for what happened." She punched him in the deltoid muscle with a chuckle. "They're going to make fun of you."
"Those bee stings...his allergic reaction...…" Full Metal stammered. "It was serious Davis."
"Pfft!" She snorted. "It's Clay!"
"Bravo knows that." Eric clapped him on the back. "Aah Scott, you do realize Doc called Trent, right? They know everything." He grinned, a shit-eating, ear-to-ear, grin. "They know more than you do."
Full Metal's jaw dropped. "What?"
"Here now, go get some sleep."
"They...they...were teasing?! You mean...when Jason called...they'd already talked to Doc?!" Full Metal fumed. "I'm gonna kill 'em!"
Eric nodded. "Doc was in constant contact with the hospital while they were treating him, had Trent on the other line."
"Are they really on their way down?" Derek asked.
"They are," Eric shrugged. "Job is done and they're anxious to see Clay. Why wait 'til morning?"
Full Metal smacked his fist into his palm, growled, pivoted and strode out the door.
"Pay back." Derek warned.
Eric grinned. "Night."
***000***
"Dad, you didn't!" Emma exclaimed. "Clay was miserable and Full Metal felt bad and you...you...how could you?"
Ray laughed, strode over to the hammock, but before he could jostle Clay awake, Jason told him to let the kid be.
"Time to go Jay." Ray said. "Call it a night."
"He can sleep there."
"Come on, Harlequin, I'll give you a ride home." Lisa told Sonny. "Night Ems."
Clay snuggled under the fleece, he didn't mind spending what was left of the night at his boss's house.