When angels fall with broken wings
I can't give up, I can't give in.
When all is lost and daylight ends
I'll carry you and we will live forever, forever
Angels Fall, Breaking Benjamin

Coop was sitting on one of those damn uncomfortable benches, eyes closed, hands clasped together, lips moving in prayer. Somewhere in the numb horror engulfing him Mick felt a spark of comfort. He had only once seen Samuel Cooper losing his faith, four weeks after they'd got to know each other - that night, nearly eighteen hundred people had died. More than six hundred of them were civilians. Seeing his friend's faith in an omnipotent invisible magician up above proved, misguided as it was to Mick, that the world was still… well, not exactly possible to be saved, but not yet broken into chaos and apocalypse either.
Or, to say it more precisely: that Beth and Gina were still alive.
Fighting his instincts to run for answers, Mick sat down next to Coop, waiting for him to speak.

"Mick!" Prophet came around the corner, two cups of coffee in his hands, his face showing a distress and sorrow Mick would not have thought possible in this man. Then again, killing someone with your bare hands when he was not threatening you did require a certain amount of impulsiveness and passion.
As Coop didn't react to either of the newcomers, Prophet handed one of the cups to Mick. "How you're doing, man?"
Mick frowned. "And the girls? And you?"
He regretted his words the instant Prophet's face fell. Of course, right now the only important thing was to get Beth and Gina out alive, but there was nothing – nothing – they could do. Knowing Prophet hated being useless as much as he did, the older man was probably desperately needing the small talk now, needing to think about anything else but the women, a problem he might solve… and who better than the Welsh crawling back to America, stripped of his job and identity?
Mick swallowed as the depth of what had happened in the past thirty-nine hours dawned on him. How noting would ever be the same – and how none of it mattered if only Beth and Gina survived.
"I'm cast out of the SAS", he said flatly, staring at his coffee, "but the plan to kill me and the others wasn't official, it was a kind of conspiracy with motives unknown forever... meaning the whole head office is probably just killing themselves. They're not exactly happy with me living and working here, but she likes me even less to stay so I got away with the warning not to come back if not as a bloody tourist and never tell anybody our secrets." He shook his head. "Whatever she thinks she's talking about."
Prophet frowned, noticing the change in numbers. "She now? Who's she?"
"Amber Austen" Mick stretched out the name, feeling Coop straightening up next to him. "She's been a close comrade back in Afghanistan, and then her brother got killed and she kind of went mad and now she's one of the commanding officers and… well, she saved my life and her own position and now the whole affair's just… I don't know. I don't care." He shrugged, realizing he did care, but not now. Dick Brandon was absolutely capable of initiate the killing of some soldiers on his own, and even if he had had help – they didn't pose a threat anymore. It was over, and Mick would never understand why it had happened, or who else had been charged with the job to kill a friend. That was part of the job. They, whoever they were, would do it. Because they were trained to be loyal to the course, not to themselves. What was the point in forming a group if you still only followed your own heart and instincts? They worked because the relied on something greater than themselves, something that united them.
In the SAS, it was the battle plan, and the commanding officers.
Here, it was Sam Cooper.

"I'm sorry." He mumbled it towards the floor, but a slight shift of Coop's shoulders told him the man had understood. Prophet hadn't, or he was just too scared to run around alone again. After shooting him various glances, Mick gave in and turned to his left, presenting himself to another soldier that had long become more than a comrade. "I wanted to save you."
Coop didn't move, didn't look at Mick.
"You know that."
Still no reaction.
Mick stared at the floor too. "I know I broke the promise."
Coop raised his eyebrows, and Mick couldn't help but fight a grin. This was home, talking like this, sitting here, drinking dishwater people called coffee.
"Don't try to tell me you'd have done it differently. Not with the team at stake" he added quickly, and the protest died on Coop's face.
"If it had been only you and me, then… no. I still wouldn't have let you walk in there." The Welsh looked at his friend again. "This was my past, Coop. My origins claiming me. You said you believed in something in me bigger than that, so don't blame me for looking for it! Lee was a part of me, our story was… and always will be a part of me. I owed that to her and to myself, and to all of you." He shot a look towards Prophet who, obviously embarrassed, nodded and then quickly left.
"I couldn't leave Jenna in danger just because I was too busy looking for myself. I thought if I just headed on, and get to those bastards before they…"
"You don't have to justify yourself, Mick."
Surprised, Mick looked up. He hadn't even realized his gaze dropping down to the floor, but he obviously had – and now he found Coop looking down on him, as intensely as he had done when asking Mick to come with him to the FBI. To help him find criminals, solve cases, bring justice. To make more of himself, to become more himself, as he had put it.
Funny how everyone seemed to have a concept of who Mick Rawson was.

He broke out of the look after a few seconds, examining the floor again. "Why not?"
Coop sighed. "Because you are right."
Mick closed his eyes as relief hit him so forcefully his fingers trembled. He grinned. "I know."
"I would have done the same."
"I know."
"And I don't blame you for getting me arrested. I know you know Fickler owes me."
"I hoped so."
There was a moment of silence before Mick dared asking the next question. "What is it, then? I mean… what is going to happen?"
"Right now?" Finally, Coop's gaze let go of Mick and wandered to the door leading to the surgery corridor. Mick closed his eyes. So Coop didn't know how to go on either. It seemed impossible to think even of tomorrow, while not knowing if Beth and Gina would make it.
"That's what you wanted, isn't it? Us, I mean." Mick nodded towards the door, then towards the corridor Prophet had vanished in. "You wanted us to become a family."
"I never meant for any of you to replace your family with each other", Sam said almost hurriedly, "I never wanted you to leave Jenna."
"Wouldn't have worked anyway."
"I know." He nodded. "But yes, that's what I wished you'd become. A family. People watching out for each other."
"Well." Mick closed his eyes, flirting with the idea of sleep for now. "Succeeded as usual, mate."

"Mr. Cooper?" The words were spoken before the door was fully opened, seeing a nurse in her forties walk towards the group. In an instant, Prophet was next to them, avoiding Mick's eyes.
"Yes." Coop's face was calm and gentle, the same he wore whenever talking to victim's relatives or witnesses. Mick felt his stomach fill with ice as he realized he and Prophet might just become such "relatives".
"Ms. Griffith will make it, we could stop the internal bleeding and her head trauma seems to be temporarily. She is going in and out of consciousness, but that is a part of the brain's healing process. You might see her if you need to" the nurse announced briskly, then turned to the door again.
For a moment, all men were stunned. It was Mick reacting first: "What about agent LaSalle?" It sounded cold, referring to Gina that way. Agent LaSalle might just be anybody, when he was talking about one of the kindest, most sharp-witted and encouraging people he knew.
The nurse didn't even stop. "I gave you all the news that I have."

"What?" Prophet stared at the swinging door, then at his colleagues. By instinct Mick felt his face turn to stone. He might be the youngest of them, but he was best at controlling himself. There would be plenty of time to blame himself and go through the events of the past weeks again and again, but that had to wait. Now he needed to be strong for his brothers.

Beth was awake, and the smile Coop gave her made Prophet shoot another sideway glance to the sniper, and this time Mick allowed himself to show emotion and grin back. If anything good came out of getting in mortal danger, it was that people realized how precious time was – every day, every moment counted. He had learnt that as well being with the SAS. Sitting and watching for more than twenty hours might seem like a total waste of time, but it rarely was. It taught self-control and patience (though somehow that quality didn't stretch out to any other area of any sniper's life) and it gave you a pretty good feeling of timing.
But even without that – Coop and Beth had stolen looks and smiles from each other for far too long. It really was about… well, time, they did what Beth had advised him and Gina to do: kiss and get it over with.
It took Mick all he had to keep the smile up. All roads leading back to Gina.

Beth's smile, rather a reaction to Coop's than a genuine move, vanished. "How's Gina?"
All roads.
Still smiling, Coop sat down on a chair next to her. "Let's start with you. How do you feel?"
The effect on the woman was striking. Every drop of blood seemed to leave her face and she fell back in her cushions, her gaze dropped.
"I killed her."

"No, you didn't!" They spoke almost in unison. Coop gently took Beth's hand in both of his. "Gina is a fighter. We'll hear of her waking up soon."
Prophet nodded eagerly, almost convincing himself but totally failing to do so with Beth. Mick saw it in her face, saw the guilt she was feeling since the moment she'd waken up and seen the men. Probably earlier.
As if reading his mind, Beth looked at the sniper. "I thought I was still able to drive."
He tensed. "It's not your fault."
"Whose then? Yours?"
He had forgotten how good at her job the elder agent was.
Coop shook his head. "Stop that, both of you. It was an accident. You couldn't have prevented it."
"What happened over there, anyway?" Beth completely ignored the man next to her. "I mean, we thought you'd left us to die, and then suddenly Sam calls telling us you've also left him to rot with the police." Her voice was blurry but the meaning was clear. Coop opened his mouth but Mick, his eyes still on Beth, raised his hand to stop him.
"I didn't leave him to rot", he said calmly, knowing this would not lessen Beth's anger. Right now, nothing would – it was a kind of survival instinct. If she didn't hate him, she'd have nothing to keep her from her guilt.
"But you risked it."
Mick looked up at Coop. "I would have taken the risk if I had no other chance to save him. But in this particular situation, I knew it was…"
"But you left", Beth interrupted, her voice flat and bitter, her fingers dancing around as if she couldn't control them. Which probably was the case, and it wouldn't have needed Prophet's warning glance for Mick to stop arguing.
"You're right." She mostly was, to be honest. Mick knelt down next to the bed to at eye's height. "I'm sorry." He swallowed. "To all of you."
"It's okay, man", Prophet said, at the same time that Beth snapped, "tell that Gina if she survives us."
Coop squeezed her hand. "Beth…"
"Get out, all of you. I'm sick of you. I should've never been… never said…" Her eyes closed.
Mick reached over the small body and touched Coop's hand. "Let's give her some rest."

"Well… I guess we should have expected that" Prophet shrugged helplessly. "At least her brain's not damaged."
"Yeah, that's great." Mick sighed. "She'll be okay, Coop. Once she realizes it wasn't her fault…", he stopped when Coop frowned at him, and grinned. "Damn it." Then he shook his head. "Not that you're any better at it than I, though."
For a moment, Coop smiled back. Then the moment ended, and the corners of his mouth dropped. Knowing that he wouldn't find the right words, Mick put his hand on the older man's shoulder. They had rarely talked about women; and never about those they were serious about – Leah's smile flashed through his mind, and with a new pang of guilt Mick realized he hadn't thought about her since he had landed in Washington – but some things didn't need words to explain them. Coop's feelings for Beth, as well his helplessness about them, were one of those things. It wasn't expected, or planned – after all it was forbidden to date someone in your team – but he had fallen in love with this woman.
Mick intensified his grip on the other man's shoulder as Coop closed his eyes. He couldn't say everything was going to be alright; because he didn't know it and because he of all people was unlikely to say anything like that. Like many times before it would have to be enough for Coop to know that Mick was with him in this battle they were forced to watch unfold, as unable to help just like he was, but ready to do whatever he could.
He would not ever run away.

Slowly, Coop nodded and squeezed Mick's shoulder, a small sign of both grace and returned resolution. "You're right, Prophet" he said, and if it wasn't for the too-enthusiastic light in his eyes, Mick would have thought his best friend to have regained total control, "let's take the good things we see. Beth will be alright. Let's hope Gina will be too."
Prophet nodded, his frown telling Mick that he didn't buy his boss' sudden leap of faith either. "Right." He tried to smile, but the tension was too strong. They could avoid naming it, but there was no way to escape the fact that they were, all three of them, unable to do a damn thing.

Mick looked down. He could not run, but he didn't know how long he would hold up here. Being stuck in a hospital – waiting for Jenna, waiting for Coop, waiting for Matt, Leah, Tom, for his parents when he was drunk enough – made up many of his nightmares.
Prophet's constant clearing his throat and the way his hands moved ceaselessly around weren't signs of great calmness either. But neither of them said a word, both determined to stand their ground.

It was Coop who, after they'd spent two hours in the floor, ushered them out. They formally protested, and earnestly protested when he declared to stay alone, but soon enough gave in and sat down in the almost empty cafeteria, close to the TV but without even noticing which team was playing. Every now and then they'd send texts to see if Beth had woken up again, carefully avoiding Gina, but she didn't – until the last time Prophet asked, shortly before noon. This time, there was no answer at all. The men rushed up in silence – not needing to even look into the other's eyes to know what he was thinking – and through the gap of the slightly open door found Coop at Beth's side, holding her hand while she cried. At once, they backed away; Mick gracefully and quietly enough not to be noticed, Prophet, trying to turn around in full run bumping against the door, causing them to look up. The look on both their faces was filled with the same hope and fear Mick and Prophet were constantly trying not to talk or even think about – and, like theirs, soon also Beth's face turned to a grimace of frustration before she lost consciousness again.

At some time in the afternoon, the nurse appeared in the cafeteria but hurried away when Prophet jumped up and ran over to her, leaving her food barely touched.
"The hell that girl got the job?" Prophet fumed as he came back, too irritated to even notice Mick stealing his fries. "Next time I see her running away from relatives I'm gonna arrest her for…" He sighed. "Sorry."
Mick smirked. "Hey, you didn't run after me with a clearly visible gun and a look as if you were going to kill me." He shrugged. "She's probably good with patients, that's all that matters."
"You're defending her?" Prophet stared at him, already more angry than bewildered.
"Well, officially we're not relatives."
"We are her team! And where's her family, tell me that, where's…"
"Alright, I get it!" Mick dropped the casual attitude. "Calm down, mate." He held up his hands reassuringly, but Prophet didn't even look at him. Mick cursed himself silently. If he hadn't been so caught up in his own feelings, he'd have noticed it earlier.
Prophet was losing it.
"Let's get out of here."
"No way!"
"Prophet, right now there is nothing we can do, but I need you to calm down, so…"
"Running away is your way of dealing, Mick, not mine!"

The whole cafeteria seemed to fall silent. Slowly Mick looked up to his friend who had jumped up, hands clamped to fists, his eyes wide – with shock about his own words, Mick realized, but not with regret.
Still moving slowly, Mick stood up. "Get out of here."
Prophet grimaced. "I told you I will not…"
"Get out." He hadn't known he still had this voice inside him. A voice that had once caused Coop to announce he didn't know him anymore. A voice that even now could make Jenna cry. For a moment Prophet seemed to protest, and there was a side in Mick that hoped he would attack him, that he would give him the chance to beat him bloody, but then the wildness disappeared and the older man turned around, slowly at first, then he ran out of the building.

Mick sat down. Prophet had not forgiven him, by far not. And he considered the team his family. What did that say about him? Or about the team?
That wasn't what bothered Mick most, however. Apart from his emotional meltdown (that seemed to go on, the parking lot was echoing with yells) Prophet had stated one strange fact: nobody from Gina's family was there. The accident had occurred roughly seventeen hours ago, and Gina's family was military – sure there was a jet to borrow somewhere?
On the other hand, Gina's family was military – they probably didn't care until their schedule allowed them to. It wasn't as if they could help, anyway. And he was certainly not the guy to judge the behavior of anyone's parents. Blaming them was only a distraction for Prophet, just as blaming Mick for everything was Beth's.
Well, except of course for the fact that Beth might be right. He didn't know how many killers Brandon would've sent for him and Lee once he'd realize she wasn't going to kill her ex-boyfriend, or how far the whole affair was.
Once this was over he'd have to call Amber and get her to answer him a few questions. After all, if it wasn't for him, she'd probably never have realized… then again, this was not a good start for talking to her. Going all about the good old times wouldn't help either, not with her. He'd have to go back. In person, it would be harder for Amber to ignore him, and somehow he would somewhere find someone owing to him. Or Leah. Or Ava or any of his dead comrades.

Running away is your way of dealing, Mick.
He buried his face in his hands.
Once this was over.
The last time he'd sat around like that, dark thoughts being replaced by even darker ones, he'd been waiting to meet Leah after he'd returned home. The time before that he'd been waiting for news about his dad, with Jenna crying in his lap, holding on to him so tight the bruises had lasted for weeks. Their mother had been dead on the spot, but their father had fought for hours before death had taken him with him.

Not Gina. Please. Not Gina.
Mick sighed. Great. Now he was praying too, to a god he didn't even believe in.
Maybe he didn't have to. Maybe it was enough if one of them believed.

"Sorry?"
He looked up to the nurse, frowning at him. "I don't actually know if I'm allowed to tell you, but…"
"FBI." He reached for his badge automatically before he realized his mistake. He didn't have it anymore. He had practically resigned.
Mick closed his fest around the empty air. "Yes, you are allowed." His voice was as calm as his heartbeat. The world might end but his pulse wouldn't tell.
"Alright." The woman shrugged. "Ms. LaSalle will make it. She's not woken up yet but she will soon. Wanna tell your friends yourself cause my shift's ended four hours ago and I really don't wanna get up there."
"Sure. Thank you. For everything." Mick found himself beaming at her, and her blushing told him he had just dropped back to flirt mode. Whatever. Gina would live.
"You just became my hero" he said sincerely, and the blush turned to the first smile he had seen on the nurse. "My pleasure."
"Thank you." He didn't hug her – she was till stinking of hospital, there was no way he'd ever find a nurse turning him on, never – but he took a little bow.
Gina would live. Beth would recover, too, she would need time to forgive herself, of course – they were too similar in that, his gruff big sister in "I-need-nobody"-style, but it would be alright.
Mick closed his eyes. Controlling your heartbeat expecting something bad was actually easier than controlling it when you were happy.

Sam Cooper calling.
Mick picked up, making, as he later realized a mistake common to soldiers, thinking one battle won meant good luck for the war.
"Hey, man. Gina's gonna make it, I just…"
"Is she?" There was a tightness to the other's voice. Mick, briskly marching out into the pouring rain to get Prophet, nodded enthusiastically. "Yep. Our wonderful gloomy nurse just told me." He swallowed, feeling tears too close to his voice. "She's alive, Coop. She'll be home soon and I promise, if you take me, I'll never let her get into harm's way again. I'll watch after her, both of them. I won't ever run away. I mean, there's one or two things I still…"
"Is the Prophet with you?"
"I'm about to get him. He was a little bit going crazy." Mick stopped dead. Finally, the noise in the background was making sense. It was a person sobbing.
His pulse throbbed through his body, loud and painfully firm. "Coop." The word had changed its meaning, what always had meant security and family was now holding danger to the bubble of optimism he had built.
Prophet came, guilt and sorrow written over his face. Mick looked right through him.
"What happened? Coop?"

"Beth is dead."

These wounds won't seem to heal
this pain is just too real
there's just too much that time cannot erase
My immortal, Evanescene