Emma groaned in frustration, the loud cackling laugh of Sonny Quinn float up the stairs from the living room. The fact that she could hear it through her closed door a flight above his head meant that he was either really drunk or that Clay had made a fool out of himself in poker once again. Her boyfriend was good at many things; he could speak multiple languages, hit a target from thousands of feet away, and could make the best peanut butter and banana sandwiches that Emma had ever tasted. But a gambler he was not. Clay could never figure out how to hide his emotions on his face and her uncles used that to their advantage. Of course the games were never more than a hundred bucks collectively, and the money was used for the next beer run, but it was the fact that they could finally get something over Clay Spenser's head that they enjoyed.
Refocusing on her textbook, Emma squinted down at the different types of epithelial cells and muscle cells throughout the body. After the last hour of studying microscopic anatomy, her head felt like it was going to explode. The AP exam was tomorrow morning and when she received confirmation that if she passed with a four or five that she wouldn't have to repeat the course in college, she was determined to make sure that it was one less thing on her plate for her first semester. Reading over the countless pages of coursework, Emma was already overwhelmed at all of the classes that she had to take in order to finish in three years instead of four. Her first semester alone was twenty credits, and that was without all of the labs that she was required to take. When her phone pinged, Emma grabbed it from the edge of the table, squinting at the bright light of the cell phone, even with the brightness turned down completely. Clay had been texting her updates every so often from his game downstairs, making Emma feel slightly guilty that she wasn't able to spend much time with him, even though he understood where she was coming from, sometimes school had to come first, just like the OPs he went on for his job.
"How are you feeling Em? Any better?"
Rubbing her temple, Emma debated how she wanted to answer. She wasn't feeling better, she was feeling worse. The jackhammer that was pounding in her skull made it hard to read, hard to focus, hard to do anything besides close her eyes. "I'm not really feeling much better Clay, can't kick the headache. How's the game going?"
The next message came in before she could even put her phone down long enough to read another sentence. "It's going fine, I'm losing. But at least I still have my pride, Sonny is losing worse than I am."
"Any idea of when you guys are going to finish the game?" It wasn't that late, but the sooner her house was quiet, the sooner she could finish. Maybe she could convince Clay to stay behind and sit with her while she studied, some kisses wouldn't go amiss right now.
"Not too much longer, Sonny and Ray are pretty trashed right now. Trent and I are sober, but your dad has been hitting the beer pretty hard. After this hand, I'll come up for a few minutes. I'm almost out anyways"
Sending a kissing face emoji, Emma leaned over her desk. Clay would wake her when he came in, it would only be for a few minutes. Just to rest her eyes.
Scowling at his homework, Mikey ran his fingers through his short brown hair, cursing the fact that Algebra existed. When math started including letters, Mikey lost all sense of what was correct and the numbers and letters jumbled together on the page. Emma was always better at math and science that Mikey was, but getting her to sit still long enough to help him with his homework was always a struggle, even though all he had to do was ask. Standing in front of her door, Mikey raised his hand hesitantly. Emma had an exam the next morning and was stressed about it all week long, enough that she asked Aunt Naima and Aunt Darcy to come and cook for the week in addition to shuttling him where he needed to go after school. Maybe this wasn't a good idea. Taking a deep breath, Mikey knocked on the door, opening it gently. The lights were off and there was only the soft glow of the lamp on the desk. Emma was bent over her desk, but she wasn't moving. Maybe she fell asleep on her notes again. Mikey had to remind her several times already that sleeping was meant to be done in a bed not a chair, but rarely this early. Tiptoeing further into the room, Mikey called out tentatively, "Emmie?"
"Yeah Mikey man, what's up?" Emma looked horrible, eyes bloodshot and face pale. She looks like one of those old school vampires from the old horror movie that Ben Porter tried to get him to watch the last time he had stayed over their house.
"Emma, you, are you ok?" Mikey was flabbergasted. Even at her most tired and worn down, Emma still had a little spark in her eyes and a ready smile on her face. This didn't look like his sister at all.
"Yeah Mikey, I just have a headache. Too many hours of staring at tiny objects," Emma tried to force her cheeks to lift in a smile, but all she wanted to do was curl up in bed and sleep. Sleep sounded so, so good at the moment.
"Are you sure Em?" Mikey didn't want to overstep, but if dad saw her, hell if Uncle Trent saw her, she would have an IV bag in her arm and be on her way to the hospital faster than she could say 'I'm fine'. He should go get Trent, but what if he was busy? Poker nights were meant for no distractions, did this count as an emergency?
Emma nodded gently, not wanting to bang her head around. "What's up Mikey, you need something?" The faster she knew what Mikey needed the faster she could get to studying.
"Can you help me figure out this problem? I don't get what it's asking me." Mikey thrust the worksheet at her anxiously, he had one more problem left before he could go and play Call of Duty. "Number nine."
Scanning the page, Emma looked over the instructions and then at the problem, mentally following his work until she found the mistake. "Mikey, you didn't factor right. If you factor this way you can solve for X." Emma corrected his work on a separate sheet of paper and handed it to him, laughing slightly at the way his eyes widened when he realized his mistake.
"You're a lifesaver Em, thanks," Mikey said, shifting on his feet, not wanting to leave when Emma really didn't look good. "Emma Kate," He waited while she glared at him weakly, lacking the usual bite when he called her by her full name. "Are you sure you're ok?"
"I'm sure Mikey, if it makes you feel better when the boys are done with their game, I'll have Uncle Trent come up and take a look at me. I'm sure it's just a headache, Mikey. Nothing to worry about." Emma attempted to smile reassuringly, but she was sure that it came out more like a grimace than a grin. When Mikey shut the door behind her she laid her head back down on the desk as hot tears burned in the corner of her eyes. She didn't think that she knew nearly enough for this exam and at this point, there wasn't enough time to cram it all in her brain. It was hopeless. Shutting her book, Emma stood up and wanted to cry when she suddenly got dizzy. Headaches apparently came with dizziness and nausea now, Emma was not a fan. Sitting on her floor, Emma reached for the trash can under the desk, grateful that it was at least in arms reach. Breathing in through her nose and out through her mouth, Emma prayed that she wasn't going to be sick and closed her eyes, hoping that it would stop the spinning of the room around her.
Trent stared at his cards, laughing at the hand he was dealt. He had absolutely nothing that would help him win the round, but neither did Clay and he would bet that Sonny didn't have anything either, judging from the scowl that was etched across his face. Trent raised his bet and waited for the inevitable, Sonny would clean out his wallet, Clay and Jason would fold, and Ray would raise the bet higher. Like clockwork, Trent watched his brothers follow their predictable patterns. They would never admit it, but they were creatures of habit, every last one of them. In the field it was Trent's responsibility to learn all of these patterns, but to never share them. With the addition of the kid on the team, Trent had to learn a whole new set of patterns, most of which were ass backwards. When the books said that a reaction was one way, Clay Spenser reacted the opposite way, but bigger. Just as Jason was twitching his hand to place his cards over, his phone rang, a loud foghorn sound that provoked many giggles and snorts from the men around him.
"I guess the little lady couldn't leave her man alone for the evening," Sonny cackled. All of the phones were placed in the middle of the table, right next to the stack of bills. Typically, poker nights involved little female interaction and no cell phone use. Clay broke this every week when he took his phone from the stack, but he didn't mind buying the next case of beer for breaking first. He always claimed that Emma wouldn't text him if it wasn't important when she knew that they were playing poker. Tonight the kid was oddly quiet, and didn't offer an explanation as to why he was on his phone. That was weird. What was weirder was that ringtone was only assigned to one person, Mikey Hayes. Why was he texting him when he could just come down and ask him any questions he had? He had never hesitated before.
"For your information, Sonny. That would be Mikey texting me." Trent said snobbishly. Sometimes Sonny needed to be put back into his place when he got smug.
"Mikey?" Jason said, sliding his cards in the middle.
"Yeah," Trent murmured distractedly, opening the text message.
Shit. The kid called him Unky, yet another pattern that Trent Sawyer had observed over the years. That nickname only slipped out when he was worried or scared, particularly about his sister. "Clay, is Emma upstairs?"
"Yeah, she's studying for her AP exam, why?"
Trent didn't answer, tapping his thumbs on the screen rapidly. Mikey wasn't answering the messages but he heard footsteps above his head and then the soft padding of feet on the stairs. Too light to be Emma's, so Mikey was coming down to grab him. Glancing at the staircase, Trent opened his mouth to call out to Mikey, but the boy turned the corner to go into the kitchen, not saying a word. Huh. Maybe it was girl problems. Furrowing his brow, Trent glanced around the room at the confused faces of his brothers, glad to see that he wasn't the only one that was in the dark. Trent turned to Clay, suspicious of the pinched brows and the rhythmic tapping of his fingers on the table. Why was he so anxious? "Is everything alright with Emma?"
"Last time she texted me, she had a headache and wasn't getting much done, she told me that it was nothing," Clay said slowly, a pit forming in the bottom of his stomach. Rising from his seat, he threw the last remaining bills in the center and went to go up to Emma, nodding at Trent as he passed. If things were bad, Clay wouldn't hesitate to call out for the medic. They all learned their lesson from the last time she was sick.
"Ok, Mikey needs me for something, I'm going to check on him. I don't know what's happening right now, but if we crowd them it's going to overwhelm them. Boss, you want to go up to Emma as well? Ray and Sonny, stay here. We might need you to call for Lisa and Eric." Without realizing it, Trent had slipped right into his own patterns, taking charge and going into complete-the-mission mode. There were things to be done, this was his show now.
Walking out of Emma's room, Mikey paced back and forth in his bedroom. Emma looked bad, real bad. Bad enough that he wanted to go charging down the stairs and drag Uncle Trent up, poker night be damned. Pulling out his phone, Mikey decided on a text. If he was busy playing, he wouldn't get an answer. If he wasn't busy, he would answer and tell Mikey what to do. And if he didn't answer in fifteen minutes, he would go back to Emma's room and sit with her until they were done. With a plan in place, Mikey felt a little bit better. Now all he had to do was figure out how to say I-need-you-up-here without inciting a mass panic downstairs.
"Unky, you busy?" Whenever Mikey was doubtful he reverted back to the nickname that he gave Uncle Trent as a toddler, a habit that he couldn't help slip back into when it came to anything remotely medical. Blood and guts freaked Mikey out, so if Uncle Trent could deal with it, everyone would be better off. Mikey went into the bathroom that separated his and Emma's room and opened both of the doors, this way he would at least hear if Emma started to get sick or needed something. Watching the time, Mikey was surprised when his phone buzzed in less than two minutes later. Opening the message, Mikey laughed at the progression of the texts and the gray dots that showed that he was still typing.
"I'm never too busy for you, Mikey"
"What's wrong? Is everything ok upstairs?"
"Are you feeling ok?"
"You need me to come up?"
Shaking his head, Mikey slipped his phone in his pocket and padded down the stairs and into the kitchen, bypassing the living room where the rest of his uncles were playing their final hand of poker for the night. Chances are he would find Uncle Trent on his way back upstairs anyways. Looking in the fridge, Mikey spotted the last apple in the drawer. It was slightly bruised, but it would be the thought that counted right? Mom always gave Emma apples when she wasn't feeling good, and that stinky tea that she liked so much. Concentrating on cutting the apple into slices, Mikey was startled when he heard footsteps behind him, dropping the knife to the floor with a loud bang.
"Uncle Trent! You scared me!" Mikey said, holding the plate steady on the counter. Thankfully none of the slices had come off the plate, but when he looked at them again, they were lopsided, hacked into tiny pieces surrounded by a glob of peanut butter.
"Sorry Mikey, just a little worried," Trent said, stooping to pick up the knife on the floor. Standing in the kitchen with Mikey, Trent watched as he made himself busy, never stopping to look him in the eyes. Trent drew the line when he tried to boil water in a pot for tea instead of using the kettle that was on the stovetop. Filling the kettle, Trent cautiously prodded Mikey, "What's going on bud?"
"I'm trying to do something for Emma, she doesn't feel well and she looks horrible, and I don't know what to do because she's not sick, she's just off," Mikey said, pouring the hot water into Emma's favorite mug, a bright blue, chipped thing with a mermaid on the front. Wrinkling his nose, Mikey added the honey, hoping it would taste better than it smelled.
"I can come up with you and take a look? I sent Clay and your dad up already, but if she really looks bad they're probably gonna come get me." Trent waited for Mikey to process. The kid couldn't be rushed to make a decision, it would make him panic.
"Let's go anyways, knowing Emma she's trying to convince them that she's fine anyway." Mikey rolled his eyes, shoulders relaxing down from his ears. Uncle Trent would make sure that she was ok, he always did.
"I don't have my kit with me, but if I need it, can I send you with Uncle Clay to go get it for me? You remember where I keep mine, right?" Trent followed Mikey towards Emma's room and stopped short. The lights were off, Emma was on the floor with Clay and Jason crouched beside her, and the boys were speaking in softer voices than normal. Trent reached out to find the light switch on the wall, when Clay sprung up.
"Not a good idea, Trent," he whispered, keeping his movements small.
Nodding, Trent scanned the room. Jason was brushing Emma's hair back from her forehead, but she didn't look feverish. The wastebasket was close by, but there was no smell of vomit in the air, she hadn't been sick yet.
"Mikey, why don't you go get a washcloth?" Trent said quietly to Mikey, who was shifting his feet back and forth.
When he nodded, Trent moved closer to Emma, kneeling on the floor. "Emmie girl, what's going on here?" It was always better to ask Emma what was going on if she was able to tell them, assuming led to hurt feelings, they had learned that lesson many times over.
"I told them, I have a headache. It's making me feel like shit Uncle Trent. Nothing's touching the pain and I can't focus anymore," Emma moaned pitifully, opening her eyes blearily.
Trent nodded, reaching his hand over to brush against her forehead. Her pupils were dilated and she was sweating slightly. "You get sick? Light and noise are bothering you?"
Emma just nodded, closing her eyes. Sniffling slightly, she tried to fight back the tears that were welling in her eyes. Pain was one thing, she could handle a lot of things, but right now was not the best time to be getting sick.
"I got one!" Mikey panted, bumbling into the room. "Emmie K, I got you the tea that you like, and some apples"
"Thanks Mikey man, wanna bring me the mug?" Emma smiled weakly at Mikey, hoping that she was starting to look a little bit better than before. She must have worried him enough that he went to get Trent sooner than the game was finished. Taking the mug with shaking hands, Emma sipped slowly, wincing at the temperature of the water.
"Em, gonna shine a light in your eyes. It's not going to be the most comfortable thing in the world. You ready?" Trent waited for Emma to nod before flipping the flashlight on his phone. As he expected Emma jerked when the light crossed her eyes, and if it was possible, turned a shade paler than before.
"You hit your head recently? Take any new meds?" Trent was fairly certain that she had a migraine, but from the various shit that Spenser had gotten into, you could never be too careful.
"No, I haven't even taken advil, nothing." Emma rested her head back against her mattress, willing the cold cloth to make her headache go away.
"Alright, Em, why don't you lie down for a little bit. I'm gonna go see if I have anything that might make your headache go away." Standing up, he jerked his head at Jason and Clay, instructing them to follow him out in the hallway. Ruffling Mikey's hair as he went, he nudged Mikey out the door and into his room. "We've got it from here bud, alright?
Mikey nodded and shut the door to his bedroom. Trent had it, there was no reason to worry.
Trent sighed, putting his hands in his back pocket. He didn't have his kit, and the only other sober person that could drive needed to stay here so that Emma would stay calm. OK, think Sawyer, what can you do here. "Here's what we're going to do boys, Clay I want you to stay with Emma, see if you can get her to fall asleep. Jason, corral the two downstairs. See if Naima can come pick them up, the last thing she needs is them being drunk and loud right now. I'm gonna dig around, see if I can find some meds."
Nodding to the two men, Trent strode down the stairs to the med kit that he knew Jason had under his sink. Two months after Clay joined Bravo, Jason had sat down with Trent and made a list of all the things that were necessary in a med kit and the things that Clay might need. It was a hefty list but Trent knew that Jason would follow it diligently and keep it well stocked. Faintly he heard Naima's car pull into the driveway and the snorts of the two drunkies in the living room, but his sour mood lifted when he found a bottle of Excedrin. Perfect. He looked at Jason on the couch and shook the bottle at him, grinning. He could fix this.
Trent made his way to Emma's room, cursing the fact that he seemed to be climbing more stairs tonight then he did at the gym for leg day. Stopping in front of Emma's door, Trent watched him holding Emma, lying in bed with her fully clothed, text book forgotten about. Clay leaned in and kissed her softly once on the lips, then again on her forehead. Knocking his hand against the door frame, Trent winced when Emma buried her head further into Clay's arms. "Em, got some meds for you to take, have you ever had Excedrin before?"
Emma sat up wearily and nodded, it was an addition to the med kit that she had provided following her last migraine. "Yeah, it'll be fine, gonna knock me for a bit though."
Trent handed her the pills and looked around for a glass of water, stunned when Emma dry swallowed them and laid back down. Smirking, he checked in with Clay. Raising a single eyebrow, Trent watched Clay closely. He looked calm, content in a way that he only saw when the kid was with Emma. Closing the door behind him, Trent went back down to the kitchen, happy that the minor crisis had been averted.
Clay laid down in Emma's soft bed and trailed his fingers gently down her back. She was curled into his chest, eyebrows wrinkled in pain. Trying to lull her back to sleep was difficult, she kept rolling over to check the clock on her nightstand.
"Babe, I set the alarm, you're not going to oversleep," Clay soothed, pulling her close.
"I'm nervous, what if I don't know enough," Emma worried her bottom lip with her teeth.
"You do babe, I know it. But you're not going to be able to take the exam if you're too tired to focus tomorrow morning."
Emma settled back against him, and relaxing into his embrace. There was rarely a time when she felt as safe as she did when Clay wrapped his arms around her. "Clay?"
"Yeah babe," Clay murmured, he was on the edge of sleep himself.
"Tell me something?" Emma loved the sound of his voice, but combined with him actually with her? It was heaven.
"You know, when I was a kid, most of the time I was in Liberia, I spent it with my grandmother, but every now and then Ash would make his way down to see me, and he usually brought some of the team guys. I was thirteen the first time that I met Adam Seaver, and it was right before I was going back to the States for college." Clay closed his eyes as he remembered a younger Adam throwing a football with him.
"Was he nice to you?" Emma was on the edge of sleep, but just as she was struggling to stay awake, she wanted to know if there was ever a time when things were good, when Clay was happy.
"Yeah," Clay said gently, remembering the easy smile and laugh that bubbled out of Adam when he was truly happy. "He was the best one. Adam was the one that encouraged me to become a SEAL in the first place. A lot of people thought that I wanted to be like Ash, but I really wanted to be like Adam," Clay admitted.
There was silence in the room and before long Clay heard the soft snores from Emma. Her brow had relaxed and she finally let go of the grip she had on his shirt. Clay chuckled and pulled the blanket tighter around them, before double checking that the alarm was set. Hopefully tomorrow would bring a new day and Emma would kick ass on the exam. It was one step closer to their future, together.