Thank you to my beta, Marilyn Penner, for looking over several earlier versions of this. As always, mistakes are mine because I always play with the chapter afterward.

Chapter 36

Benson managed the painful climb down the ladder into the tunnels. Once he was down, though, Hogan refused to let him go any further without assistance. Tivoli stepped forward without waiting to be told, put a shoulder under his friend's arm, and headed for the locker room.

O'Malley rushed them as soon as they entered the room, his gaze homing in on Benson's bent leg.

"What happened?"

A grin flashed across Maddux's muddy face as he trudged past. "Ah, he fell over his own big feet."

"Nah," Tivoli grunted, lowering Benson onto a chair. "He tried kicking my butt, missed and ended up hitting a tree instead."

O'Malley knelt at Benson's feet and looked up at him.

"Try bending it."

Benson tried and couldn't. "It's only a bad sprain," he said, trying not to flinch as O'Malley poked and fussed over the knee. "Really, it's fi . . ."

Hogan stepped into his line of vision, wearing a look that silently ordered, 'do as I say, not as I do'. Benson sagged back in the chair, glared up at Tivoli when his friend told him to "Behave".

Hogan gripped Benson's shoulder, flicked a quick, hard look at Tivoli that let him know they would talk later, then went to his locker and quickly stripped out of his wet clothing. He was just buttoning up a clean shirt when Broughton came by, arms loaded with blankets. Wrapping up in one, Hogan drifted through the crowd to the other side of the room, keeping his ears open for O'Malley's diagnosis. Benson was probably right about the injury being only a sprain, but O'Malley's opinion was the one that counted.

Finding an empty spot along the wall, Hogan propped himself up. Quiet chatter and soft laughter rolled over him, comforting and familiar, as the members of the team replayed the night's events, embellishing minor details and playing down the more dangerous ones. The other men weren't fooled. Everyone knew the dangers involved and the likelihood of never returning from even the simplest mission.

Hogan was lost in thought when a loud bang sounded from the other side of the room. He jolted away from the wall and for one dizzying moment, was back in the woods, lightning crashing overhead, his gun centered on Tivoli's forehead. Then he was back in the locker room looking across the room at Maddux and Jones. The two had apparently been kidding around as usual and had knocked into the wall of the lockers, slamming one of the doors closed.

Hogan glanced around the room and blew out a breath of relief when it appeared that his reaction had gone unnoticed. Silently berating himself for being so jumpy, he quickly picked his blanket off the floor and wrapped up again. This time when he leaned back, he kept his attention from wandering, grounding himself in the present.

Newkirk and Carter were playfully bemoaning the heap of muddy clothing when Lyons and Jones appeared, towels slung over their shoulders and buckets of water in their hands. Maddux, Braveheart and Kinch eagerly set to scrubbing away all evidence of their night, while Broughton stood ready with blankets, reminding Hogan of a muscular valet in a men's club.

Lyons came to Hogan with one of the buckets, a towel and cloth. He took a towel, but waved off the bucket and cloth; preferring his men have as much water as they needed. He would clean up once they were done.

Hogan shivered as he scrubbed the towel over his hair, feeling chilled despite the blanket and dry clothing. Lights seemed too bright, voices too loud. Tossing the towel aside, he dragged a hand over his face, exhausted but unable to relax. It would take time to shake off what could have happened, and to absorb what hadn't.

"Colonel."

Fragrant steam hit Hogan's nose. LeBeau smiled up at him, a tray of steaming cups in his hands.

"Vegetable broth. It will help warm you."

Hogan shifted his grip on the blanket, and lifted a cup from the tray with his free hand. LeBeau moved on, distributing the rest to the other members of the team.

Hogan shook his head at LeBeau's forethought, then took a tentative sip of the broth. It was just the right temperature, and was loaded with chunks of chopped carrot, onions and potatoes from their larder. The cup was soon drained, the nourishing broth blunting the chill.

Over the hum of voices, Hogan heard O'Malley declare Benson's self-diagnosis had been on the money. Kinch looked in Hogan's direction, an unreadable expression on his face. A moment later, he was weaving a path through the crowd to Hogan's side.

"We saved you a bucket of water."

Hogan scratched a few flecks of mud from his chin, finding it vaguely ironic that his skin felt dry and itchy after being wet for so long. "Thanks." He peered across the room, then cut a sideways glance at Kinch. "Ben's done with Benson, now. Get on over there and have him check your shoulder."

The surprise that flickered over Kinch's face was quickly supplanted by a sheepish grin. "Should've known you'd notice I was favoring it. I must have landed on it wrong when we took our flying leap into the woods. There's no need to bother Ben, Colonel. Some liniment ought to take care of the soreness."

Hogan lifted an eyebrow.

"Yes, sir," Kinch softly sighed in defeat.

An impish grin crinkled the skin around Hogan's eyes. "Look on the bright side, buddy. At least the bad ol' brambles didn't get you this time."

Kinch laughed. "Hey, those things are sneaky. They always wait until my back is turned to grab me. Don't ever take your eyes off 'em."

"I'll be sure to keep my distance next time I see one." Hogan's smile fell away when he glanced at his watch and saw how little time they had left until roll call.

He cast a quick look around the room. The crowd had thinned but not by much. They would need a bigger locker room if this habit of meeting en masse after a mission continued. He turned to Kinch, his tone now business-like.

"Time to break up the party."

Kinch looked across the room. Tivoli was talking with Benson, Braveheart and Maddux near the lockers, and kept glancing in their direction, but made no move to approach. Considering the circumstances, Kinch thought he was wise to keep his distance.

"What about Tivoli, Colonel? Are you sending him packing?"

"Ask me again when I'm not still seeing his face at the end of my gun," Hogan snapped.

"He's a good man, sir. Just a little hot-headed."

Hogan stared at him in disbelief. "A little?"

"He's Italian," Kinch said, a faint grin pulling at his lips.

Hogan's expression hardened. "Stop making excuses for him, Kinch. He ignored my orders and history almost repeated itself. I nearly blew his hot Italian head off."

"It's not the first time one of us has gone against orders, sir," Kinch argued. Another small grin crept out. "You've even done it yourself a few times. Give him another chance."

"He's had more than his share already." Hogan held up a hand, cutting off further arguments. "Enough, Kinch. You still need to get your shoulder checked, and I still need to wash off this crud."

He waved to get O'Malley's attention and once he had it, pointed to Kinch. The medic nodded and started toward them.

Kinch cleared his throat. "Colonel . . ."

"Yeah?"

"One last thing about Tivoli." Kinch continued, despite Hogan's stormy expression. "Are you angry because he didn't follow orders or because you almost shot him?"

"Sir?"

Hogan's gaze sliced from Kinch to O'Malley. The medic swallowed, clearly uncomfortable about overhearing what had obviously been a private conversation.

"Take a look at Kinch's shoulder." Hogan picked the towel up again and turned back to Kinch. "I'll consider it." He walked away, headed for the buckets.

O'Malley cleared his throat, and once he had Kinch's full attention, took him by the arm and guided him toward one of the empty chairs. He grinned at Kinch, cocked an eyebrow.

"Have you been tusseling with brambles again?"

Thank you for reading.