AN: A new one-shot for you all because the idea wouldn't leave me alone. Mild-ish Clay whump, Jason and Clay bonding moments, and sick Bravo members. Enjoy! :)
No Rest for the Weary - SEAL Team
Plot: Bravo is on an extended stay in the States, but it turns out to be anything but restful.
Finally. After months of running around the world, chasing down every scum and lowlife Mandy could find, Bravo Team was granted a small break. While that rest was purely due to Ray catching the flu from his children, and then subsequently passing it to Sonny, the guys were grateful for the pause in their routine nonetheless.
Save for the two miserable members suffering from constant chills and endless retching.
Clay decided he would take this extended leave to wash his car and go for a long drive around the city, see some of the sights he never gets to enjoy in person. After that, he'd swing by Sonny's place, see if the big Texan needed anything. His home was being used as "base" because Naima didn't want her freshly disinfected house re-infected with influenza.
The Virginia air was pleasant this time of year. Not too hot, not too cold. Clay wore a lightweight jacket, but found he had the sleeves rolled up most of the time. He drove with the windows down, cranked his country tunes up. He thought about Stella, how he should surprise her with something, just because he wanted to. As he drove down the roadways, he mused over what he could get her while also thinking about what his ill teammates needed.
Spenser pulls over, takes a few moments to text Jason and asks what he should pick up. Gatorade was the only thing Jason sent. A few seconds passed before Hayes added Lysol and face masks to the rather short list. Clay chuckles-makes note to not get the white sports drink because those are gross-and tucks his phone into his cup holder as he continues his drive, wondering if that list was going to grow between now and the time he actually makes it to the store.
By the time evening starts to roll in, Clay decides he should head home. He was just outside the city limits when his gaslight flicked on, alerting him of the car's need. He could put it off, gas up tomorrow sometime after his workout with Brock and Cerberus, but he already knows he wouldn't be up for anything but an ice bath after running hills with Bravo's canine teammate.
Spenser comes up on a corner Mom and Pop gas station just as the setting sun reflects off of its broken sign. The pumps are empty, and it appears the only person in the store at the time is a clerk, who is preoccupied with his phone to notice Clay at the moment. The SEAL chuckles to himself at the sight, wondering if he would have turned out that way had he not decided to join the Navy.
Clay waits for his car to fill up. He debates over getting Stella her favorite take-out for a late dinner. Maybe breakfast at the new cafe would be better? Nah. He'd surprise her with a cup of coffee in the morning, sometime after checking in on Ray and Sonny.
The pump had just clicked off when the temperature seemingly dropped twenty degrees. This change on the outside also alerted Clay of the change inside the store. He slowly looks up, sees the clerk is no longer hunched over the counter and is instead backed up against the wall of lottery tickets with raised hands. Across from the shaking millennial is a hooded figure, with one arm outstretched in a threatening manner. Clay can't see a weapon, but everything tells him to assume the worse.
Spenser takes a step from around his car but stops short. He's home, not a warzone. He can't go into the gas store guns blazing, even if he were carrying. Which he is not.
He should call the police and let them handle the situation.
Clay slowly reaches into his car, where his phone still rests in the cupholder. He had just gotten it in his hands, had pushed 9 and 1 but a yell from inside the store draws his attention from pressing the final number.
The hooded figure is waving the assumed weapon towards the clerk, but the kid is too scared to move. The hooded figure knocks something over and Clay decides he needs to act so no one gets hurt.
So, what's the plan?
I'll just wing it.
Clay tosses his jacket in the cab of his car. He keeps his phone out, looks down at the screen and does his best to act like he hasn't seen or heard anything. He gets to the door, walks inside, starts talking.
"Hey, my girlfriend got me hooked on those round candies with the nuts in the middle." He says not looking up from his screen. "Y'all have any of those or-" now he looks up, takes stock of the situation.
The hooded person is maybe just a year or two younger than Clay (still a kid, especially if you consider their career path choices). In their hand is a weapon, namely a gun that looks older than Clay. And that gun is now pointed at the SEALs chest.
"Whoa, whoa there." Says Clay as he puts his hands up. "Easy, just relax."
"Shut up! Just shut up and don't move!" the man yells as he waves the gun.
"Okay, okay, I can do that. You think you could let my pal there go? C'mon, man, he hasn't-"
"No! No! He's staying right there!" the gunman turns the weapon onto the clerk. "Open the drawer! Now! Do it now!"
The clerk still hasn't moved, stammers over words and somehow manages to say, "Okay, o-okay-"
"Then open the damn drawer!"
Clay takes in how the man is always looking over his shoulder, probably anticipating someone else walking in or his window of opportunity to escape.
"This isn't worth it, man." Clay starts, hoping to talk the person down before things got worse. "You can still walk away from this. It isn't too late. Just drop the weapon and go."
"Shut up, man! Move faster!"
"No one's been hurt." Clay tries again, "You don't have to go down this road, okay? This ain't the life you gotta live. You can be better than this."
The clerk fumbles over the keyboard, but eventually the cash drawer pops open with a resounding ding. When the gunman walks around the counter to collect their prize, Clay moves. He motions for the clerk to get down, while at the same time grabbing the gun from the unsuspecting robber. The struggle was quick, and over before anyone knew what actually happened. Clay holds the newly acquired weapon down by his side with his left hand, then he grabs the would-be thief with his right and pins him against the wall.
"You got anything to tie him up with?" he asks the clerk, who peers from behind the counter.
Spenser takes the duck tape from the clerk and carefully sets the gunman's weapon on the counter. After tying the man up, Clay takes out his phone and finally dials 911.
But a searing hot pain in his back stops him from tapping the SEND button.
He looks down in confusion, sees red seeping out of his chest.
And falls.
"I told you I had it!"
"I can see that, man! Move it!"
Clay watches helplessly from his spot on the ground as another gunman hits the clerk over the head, while the first one grabs the money from the drawer. Both men spare a glance at Clay, but the second stops short, stares at the tattoo on the SEALs bicep.
"You had to hold up the store with a soldier in it?!" then he runs off.
Clay, struggling to stay awake, can't help but think We're sailors, before he passes out.
#
Jason walked around the apartment and watched half of his team with keen eyes. After raising Emma and Mikey and being in the Navy for most of his life, he's become an expert in taking care of people when sickness or injury knocks them down.
This latest flu outbreak was no different.
Sonny was curled up on his bed, a pile of covers kicked on the floor. If Hayes didn't know the big Texan, he'd be fooled by how innocent and dare he say small he appeared. Ray was no different, expect his current position was on the bathroom floor, huddled by the toilet. If any other person gave him the flu, he'd have their head, but since it was his own kids doing, he just smiled and suffered through it. Trent, the one who was supposed to be taking care of them (unofficially, of course) was the latest to get hit. He was fine that morning, but by the time he swung by Quinn's to drop off some soup his Mom made, Jason knew he caught the bug too. Now he was wrapped in a heavy quilt on Sonny's couch, in spite of the nice Virginia season.
Hayes made sure each of his brothers were comfortable, then settled in for the evening. With a bowl of soup in hand, he turned on the tv, hoping to catch a reply of a hockey game he missed live from earlier that week.
He glances at his watch, makes a face. Spenser should've been there by now. Maybe he stopped by Brock's first. Or Stella's, since they're apparently trying things out again. The ringing of a phone breaks Jason from his thoughts, but when he glances at his screen, its blank.
The ringing continues, and it takes a moment for Jason to realize that it is coming from Sawyer's phone which is on the side table. Hayes picks it up, sees Spenser's name, and answers.
"Trent?"
"No, it's Jason."
"Oh." Clay sounds disappointed. "Where's Trent?"
"Flu knocked him down for the count, Clay." Jason walks to the kitchen, leans against the counter. "What's up?"
"I just... had a question." there's a long pause. "A medical question."
"Uh, okay." Jason raises a brow. "Maybe I can help you with that."
"Okay… what's the best way… to stop bleeding from a head wound?"
Jason is quick to realize that is information Spenser already knows. "Clay? What happened?" he questions as he sits up, setting his half eaten bowl of soup to the side.
"I can't… it won't…"
"Clay, I thought you were heading this way. What happened?" Hayes repeats, really getting worried as the kid isn't making sense.
"Yeah, I, uh…" Jason can hear faint coughing in the background before Spenser speaks up again. "Please… don't be mad."
Jason stands up straighter, concern building in his chest. "Clay, what happened?"
"The kid won't wake up… 'nd they got away. I… I failed."
"Clay, where are you? Spenser, tell me where you are—RAY!" Jason is pulling his shoes on as he grabs his keys and rouses Perry from his drug induced sleep. "C'mon, kid, talk to me!"
"What's going on?" Ray asks sitting up. He was feeling better than Sonny or Trent, but still felt like crap. "Jase, what is it?"
"Clay?" Jason tries again. "CLAY!"
"He needs your help, Boss." Clay's voice is but a whisper.
"Where are you? I'll come, but you gotta tell me where you are."
"Gas station… the one with the… the broken si-"
There is a clattering sound, then nothing. Jason looks at Ray, who is leaning against the door frame. "Keep your phone on. I'll call when I know something." And then he's out the door.
Jason still has Trent's phone, listening as the line is still open. With his own phone, he calls Brock and tells him to meet him at the gas station Clay described. Thankfully there weren't many gas stations with broken signs in the area, so it wasn't hard to find.
Seeing Spenser's car by the pump only supported their hunch as they pulled up.
"You bring it?" Jason asks as he and Brock walk up to the building.
Brock nods, holds up the modest medical bag he keeps at the ready. "What's going on?"
Jason can't bring himself to reply, because he can only fear the worse as they enter the building. And once inside, they are met with something worse than their fears.
Clay is slumped against a broken shelf, his shirt, pants and the floor stained with blood. His phone is on the floor, mere inches by his side. Jason and Brock rush to the kid, try to get his cracked eyes to focus on them.
"Clay, you hear me? Clay!" asks Hayes as he takes a handful of gauze from Reynolds. "Clay?"
"Boss?"
"Yeah, kid, I'm here. Brock is too."
"The… clerk. I… I c-couldn't get to-"
"I've got 'em." says Brock as he ducks behind the counter and tends to the still unconscious worker. A few seconds later he adds, "I called an ambulance. Should be here soon!"
"Okay. You hear that? Help is coming. Just hang on."
Clay tilts his head, tries to get a better look at Jason. Even with his unfocused eyes, he can see the worry etched on his team leaders face. And it was his fault.
"I'm sorry." He mutters as his eyes slip shut and his head lulls to the side.
"Clay? Clay, look at me, c'mon!" Jason keeps pressure on both of Spenser's wounds, though that is hard to do. Soon the building is illuminated with the familiar red and blue lights, and paramedics rushed in and quickly take over for Brock and Jason.
"Is he gonna be okay? He's gonna be okay, right?" Jason knows he needs to let the men and women work, but he can't help but hover as they pack Clay's entry and exit wound and prepare to strap him to the stretcher. "Is he? He's one of my men! I need to know if he's going to-"
"One of your men?" one of the medics ask.
"Yes, uh, Navy. His name is Petty Officer Clay Spenser."
"Great. You'll need to ride with us and give the doctors any information when we arrive at the hospital."
Jason nods and follows the medicals to one of the waiting ambulances. He turns to Brock, says, "Get back to Sonny's and fill in the guys. I'll update you all when I can."
Reynolds just stands there for a minute, watches his brother—yet again—carried off to a hospital with an uncertain fate. Except this time was different. This time, they weren't in a warzone. This time, they weren't the targets of Anti-American acts of terror.
This time, they were home.
It was supposed to be different.
It wasn't.
#
Jason paces the short hall in the hospital. Something he has done far too often since joining up. The feeling was familiar, save for being home and not in a war torn country.
He glances at his watch. Its just after three in the morning. Spenser has been in surgery for the last few hours and he hasn't gotten an update since the doctors wheeled him back to the OR.
Local cops came and talked to him, but he didn't have any information to give them. It was a short conversation, to say the least.
Hayes forces himself to sit down in one of the many uncomfortable chairs. Why hospitals don't invest in more comfortable chairs is beyond his state of comprehension. He's tired. Most of his men are ill or injured. And no one has given him an update since he's been there.
"Excuse me," Jason says as he sees a nurse walk by. "I'm waiting for information on one of my men? Petty Officer Spenser?"
"I'm sorry, sir. But Petty Officer Spenser is still in surgery." they say with a sad smile. "But the clerk from the gas station is going to be fine. Could've been a lot worse if your man wasn't there tonight."
"Yeah. Yeah, okay, thank you." Jason sits back down, lets out a shaky breath, removes his phone from his pocket and shoots Brock a quick message. "Still in surgery. No updates." Then he sits back in the chair, folds his arms and waits.
It felt as if he had just closed his eyes when he felt someone standing nearby. Jason opens his eyes, is jolted awake when he sees a doctor with an unreadable look plastered on her face. "How is he?" he quickly asks as he stands to his feet.
"It was touch and go for most of the surgery. The bullet was a though-and-through, entered his left upper trapezius and exited his left upper pectoralis, which lead to significant blood loss. We were able to control the bleeding, and fix the damaged muscle." the doctor says. "He's a fighter. Give him a few weeks with therapy, he'll be fine."
"Can I see him?"
"He's being settled into a room now. I'll have a nurse come and get you soon."
Sure enough, Jason was led to Clay's room just a few minutes later. Jason thanked the nurse, waited until the door clicked closed behind him before walking over to the prone figure in the bed.
Spenser was propped up on a mountain of pillows. His left arm is in a sling, heavily bandaged-Jason can see the thick gauze piled on his shoulder, even with the hospital gown. A nasal cannula rests under the kids nose, and his hair, a little longer than normal, is matted with sweat.
But he's awake.
"I'm sorry I didn't get by the store." the kid says in a broken whisper.
Jason shakes his head. "You have nothing to be sorry for."
"Yeah I do. They got away."
"But that clerk is alive because of you." Hayes pulls a chair over to the side of the bed. "You should be proud of that."
"Yeah."
"Hey. Victories don't always come in the form of catching the bad guys, all right? Sometimes those victories just mean we get to go home at the end of the day."
"But-"
"No. No buts, Spenser. Let the locals handle it. You just focus on getting better so we can get back out there."
"Okay." Clay nods, winces, then reaches out of the button that controls his pain meds. "The guys okay?"
"Yeah, they're fine. Ray's mostly healed. Sonny's still being a baby about it all. And Trent refuses to leave the couch." Jason chuckles. "You'd think with him being the team medic and all he'd be a better patient...but no. He's actually really awful."
"Hm… sounds like Brock has his work cut out for him." Clay smiles as he feels the drugs begin to take effect. The allure of slumber was quickly approaching, and Spenser did not want to miss out. It was so close.
Jason starts snickering, then breaks out into a full on laughing fit. Clay, on the edge of darkness, cracks one eye open with disappointment. "What's so funny?"
"Brock caught the flu!" Jason says between bits of breathing and more laughter as he reads and rereads the text from Ray. "Oh, man, Blackburn is gonna be so pissed!"
Clay can't help but smile at his teammate's misfortune, but is inwardly happy for an extension on their already extended break. With five of the six members of Bravo Team out of commission for the time being, he'd finally be able to just relax.
"Guess you'll be going to the store now, huh." Clay closes his eyes again, tries to get comfortable. "Wanna bring me a Gatorade?"
"The white one?" Hayes asks with a smile, because he already knows the answer.
"Anything but the white one."
"Yeah, sure. Right after I stop by Ray's to see Naima. I want to know how she avoided catching the flu this year, because I will not be the last man to go down." Jason muses as he watches Clay slowly drift off to sleep. "I should probably ask Mrs. Sawyer for some more soup, too. Sounds like the guys are going to need it."
-FIN-
AN: Review?