"Between the idea

And the reality

Between the motion

And the act

Falls the Shadow"

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*** Trigger warning - small reference to historic child abuse***

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Brock sits at the table, running his fingers absentmindedly through that spot of loose fur and skin right at the nape of Cerb's neck that the dog adores. He pauses for a second and Cerb leans in against his leg pressing up to headbutt his idle hand demanding a renewed attention to its previous task.

Cerb doesn't have a care in the world right now which is more than can be said for his partner. Brock is sitting stiffly, unable to relax and impatient for everyone else to hurry up and get to the briefing room so they can get this show on the road. There are only a few possibilities that would lead to the team getting called back the day after returning from a mission and by his count none of them are good. It would have to be important to override their mandated downtime, and as he watches Eric fiddle around at the front of the room looking equally impatient and uncomfortable as they wait he gets the sense that while this may be important it's not going to be something they like...at all. The normally charismatic man gave him a nod when he arrived but since then has made no attempt to engage in conversation and the silence is hanging uncomfortably.

It doesn't have the feel of a spin up so maybe something came up and a formal AAR is required for their last mission. But as he thinks back he was pretty sure it went off like clockwork and contrary to some recent missteps they got in and out undetected and with no headaches. Bravo managed to kill the target they were supposed to without any complications so it had felt like an open and shut one to him.

So that leaves him sitting impatiently and wishing the rest of his team would hurry up. He happened to have already been on base putting in some work with Cerb in the agility course when the call came in. He was actually just a few minutes shy of wrapping it up and heading home for dinner with Amy. He knew she was working the late shift today so he hadn't exactly been in a big rush to get home but now it looks like she may have to eat without him.

Brock turns his attention back to studying Blackburn. He's having trouble reading his superior's body language right now and he doesn't like it.

Brock is not a very reactionary individual. He likes to have all the info so that he knows what's coming and be prepared so there is no need to be surprised or react in the moment. He spends a lot of time watching and listening and often gets good natured jibes about being quiet and not saying much. Sometimes he wonders though if the others ever notice how much they miss in those quiet moments, in taking a second to observe and listen, before speaking. He read once "Listening is much more than allowing another to talk while waiting for a chance to respond" and found it super enlightening, especially in their line of work. He figures a large majority of people in life in general but especially in the Navy spend most of the conversation planning their next words, their next arguments and miss a lot of what is actually said, and even more importantly how it's said. Beyond just what is missed in words, there is also so much that can be gleaned from the environment around you as well. He much prefers to spend his time scanning the room and watching for little subtle behavioural cues, body language, twitches, nervous ticks. It doesn't take him long to size people up and pick up on things like that. People are generally creatures of habit and if you take the time to study them you can catch valuable information and avoid nasty surprises.

It's the same and even more so with dog training, there's a beautiful element of predictability. Once you understand what drives a dog and the signs they give before they act or react you can always be 100 percent sure of the outcome in a situation. You can predict whether you will get the desired behaviour or know when you won't. It allows you to recalculate and stack the deck differently to ensure the outcome you want. Brock absolutely loves the predictability and enduring bond of being in a canine/handler partnership. Values the absolute ability to count on one thing in any situation that arises.

It wouldn't be hard for anyone to understand why if they knew his backstory. The coles notes in his jacket and the small portions he chooses to share only give a small snapshot of the non-stop uncertainty and upheaval that defined his childhood. He cycled through more foster parents and more group homes than he cares to count before the age of 16. The only constant was unpredictability. It was never stable, never sure, and he never knew what was coming next.

Each foster parent, each group of kids, was different. Each had their own tells so he learned early on the value of paying attention. Brock never got to be that blissfully ignorant child, completely oblivious to things going on around him. Instead he had to keep a close eye on his surroundings, always listening, always looking for clues about what might be in store for him. It made him an eerily perceptive, oddly quiet child, which didn't exactly help his cause as he bounced around the system. But he trusted no one and wasn't about to start now. The world gave him no cause to. Instead it gave him an unhealthy variety of abusive alcoholics, controlling couples, ambivalent assholes, neglectful newcomers, manipulative mentors, inept idealists, overbearing officers and a steady stream of scattered social workers.

When he got old enough, at least in his mind, he escaped to nature for days on end. Would go on long hikes into the wilderness where things were quiet and calm and completely under his control. He always came back eventually to an exasperated social worker and he couldn't help but wonder whether it was his adventures or the nerve of him bothering to return that led to their frustration.

School, or rather, many many schools held nothing for him either. He learned early on that the phrase "stay in touch" is nothing more than an empty promise that will always be broken. Friends he made at school, kids he roomed with at homes, they always parted with good intentions and the earnest, naive belief that this long distance friendship will work out. Sure you try with a couple phone calls at first, maybe a letter or two, eventually just an email here or there but the contact always fizzles out despite everyone's best efforts.

By his last placement he'd given up on friends of the human variety because life and distance seemed like an opponent that just couldn't ever be defeated. His only social interaction was walking past his neighbors yard where there was a very scruffy, very lonely dog who seemed to permanently be waiting to bark at anyone who walked by. Brock found himself drawn into this mangy mutt with his teeth bared and tail tucked firmly between his legs. Everyday he paused in front of the fence and talked to it, got a little closer and a little closer until finally in what felt like the biggest accomplishment of his life this smelly little creature let him pet it through the chain link. Within a few days he had the dog sitting on command and then moved on to other commands. The dog even figured out how to nose him a ball under a part of the fence with a gap and he would sit for hours throwing the ball for the dog in its yard.

It isn't a stretch to say it was the most rewarding relationship in his life to that point which is why when he walked by one day and saw the absentee owner there for the first time he was excited to maybe actually learn the dog's name. As he approached he saw the man deliver a kick that sent the dog rolling across the yard into the fence. The yelp sent a weird cold sensation down his spine and then he saw red. He attacked the man without thought, busting through the fence for the first time and channeling all his anger, all his rage into making sure that asshole never touched that poor dog ever again.

The asshole didn't, mostly because he was unconscious for 3 days and had his jaw wired shut for weeks after that. Meanwhile the dog, apparently named Bently, went to the SPCA and then hopefully to a loving home while Brock got a one way trip to a court to deal with assault charges and what he assumed would lead to a long stay in juvie. Surprisingly though the judge was actually pretty understanding about the circumstances that led to the attack, and even more unexpected his latest social worker was actually halfway competent and gave a rousing speech about how the instability and turbulence in his life contributed to his lack of self control and impulsive behavior. He wasn't quite sure whether to be insulted or grateful but he certainly was relieved when the Judge took pity on him and gave him an alternative to jail. If he went to a nearby Military Acadamey for the next two years and successfully graduated she would expunge the charges from his record.

Brock appreciated the opportunity but had no illusions that it was actually going to happen.

He figured he would last maybe a month, maybe two, just like everywhere else in his life so far. Sure enough the first few weeks were hard adapting to pseudo military life and he almost pulled a runner a few times. In fact he thought about it most mornings for the better part of six weeks until he found a routine and rhythm that he didn't know could exist. Against all odds he flourished amidst the stability and predictability that the neatly ordered regime offered. He would have laughed his ass off at anyone who told him 6 months ago that he would now be enjoying a place where people yell at you for trivial things like wrinkles in your uniform or unpolished boots. But here was the thing, there was a clear system and you could learn it. It wasn't easy but it was fair and consistent and he could work with that.

When he graduated it was a natural transition into enlisting and the promises of a life with purpose that steered him to the Navy. Even in the chaos of active combat there were still rules and strategies and he thrived. There he found a home, and the teams, and the family he never had. His childhood gave him the skills to get by in pretty much any situation and to get along with pretty much any personality, even a bunch of fiery pipe hitters. He found his own path and his own way to contribute, relying on his keen observations and intuitive perceptions to help the team get ahead.

And that's what's really putting him on edge here. As much as he is trying, he can't get a read on Blackburn right now. Usually he can pick up some cues that tell him whether they are here just for a preemptive mission briefing or whether they are spinning up within the hour. Usually before anyone opens their mouth he can look around and find some clues as to where they might be headed or what they might be doing based on the cast of supporting characters that's been assembled. Right now it's just him and Blackburn and a whole lot of unanswered questions. He rubs his hand back down soothingly over the dog's head, more for his own reassurance than anything else. Whatever is coming the team will face it together like they always do.

Finally the other guys start to trickle in. Ray and Sonny arrive first, plopping themselves down at their regular seats by the table and looking just as confused as he is by this unexpected call. Jason enters shortly after, a whirlwind of barely controlled energy as he storms to the front, immediately going to speak to Eric in hushed tones and full of tension that makes it clear he is already in the loop on whatever is coming down the pipe. It also strongly reaffirms Brock's feeling that they aren't going to like it. Trent arrives on Jason's heels, calmly strolling into the room and taking his seat in an almost comical juxtaposition to their leader's current agitation.

So they are just missing Clay now.

There's no sign of the kid yet but apparently Eric is impatient to get going regardless. Blackburn clears his throat to get everyone's attention, evidently with the intention of starting the meeting. Beside him Jason crosses his arms and turns to face his team at the table. Brock's first thought is that they didn't realize Clay isn't there yet. He considers interjecting to point it out but decides it doesn't need to be said. They will either figure it out or they won't and if it becomes mission critical he'll mention it but for now there's no need to call attention to Spenser's tardiness.

It does briefly cross his mind that it's strange for both highly observant men not to realize they are a man short.

Then, as he watches Jason's eyes track over to the chair where Clay usually sits, another possibility occurs to him. Bravo 1 stares at the empty blankly and doesn't seem surprised, if anything his face hardens further and now Brock's mind is spinning elsewhere. Suddenly it occurs to him that he wonders if maybe they do realize Spenser is missing. Maybe this meeting is about Clay and Bravo 6 has purposefully been excluded. Could the kid be in trouble? Is this something disciplinary? Did Clay maybe go and raise a stink about the Marsden thing? He is known to push boundaries but surely even he wouldn't be so stupid. Right?

Moments later he will wish that's all it is.

When the news finally comes. He never could have predicted it.

He was expecting a shitty mission. Maybe some sort of cake eater meddling in a previous mission and asking tough questions. Something out of left field like when Ray got tangled up for killing that boy with his grenade.

Not this.

Never in a million years this.

Suddenly Bravo team is one short for the foreseeable future. Unexpectedly they are now having conversations about trials and new team members and no one really understands why or is remotely ready for this abrupt turn of events.

Because this doesn't happen.

People don't just leave the team like this.

There's always a reason. You always understand.

Death, for example, while unfortunate and the most painful reason is something they all know is always a possibility on any given day. It hurts, but it can be processed at some level. Grieved and worked through and moved on from eventually. That's what they are trained to do.

A removal for disciplinary reasons is also possible, albeit rare, as they just recently experienced with Vic. Thankfully by the time you get to a team as a tier one operator you have usually been tried, tested and found to be worthy a hundred different times so it doesn't happen often. The situation with Vic was unfortunate and rare but it was a decision for the team made by the team and they are unified and are stronger for it.

Or if you are lucky enough you might get to leave the team and retire at the end of a long career. At least this way it's somewhat on your own terms, although from his experience most operators cling to this life with all they have and long past when everyone else knows it's time to walk away. It usually takes their body proving that they just can't do it anymore for an operator to hang up their trident but at least by that point it's more than understandable. Everyone knows they literally can't do it anymore, much as they want to. It makes sense. It's the natural order of things.

Nobody walks away from the team like this. Clay was in his prime. Was healthy. Was part of this team's future. And now he is on leave. By his own request no less.

"Personal Reasons" ….What does that even mean and why didn't they know something was up with him. He looks back over the last couple months and can't think of one thing that Clay mentioned that even might have hinted to something going on his life that would have led to this. And for a year. Why so long, why that exact time period. A lot can happen in a year. Especially in their line of work. And it certainly doesn't make him confident that the kid will actually be back at the end of all that.

He sits listening to the explosive fury and the expressions of disbelief echo around him and tries desperately not to get swept up in it. Instead he forces himself to contemplate just what kind of drastic things must be going on in Clay's life to make him walk away from his brothers. The Clay he knows wouldn't make that decision lightly, at least not the Clay he thought he knew. He almost succeeds with keeping things in perspective, or at least manages better than most of the team. But he also can't really blame them for the anger and hostility and hurt feelings rippling wildly in the room. Brock feels it all and more. There aren't a lot of things he holds sacred in this life but this team, this brotherhood, to walk away and abandon it like this...

Especially because none of them saw it coming.

And whatever led to this earth shattering decision, Spencer certainly didn't exactly help his cause with how he went about orchestrating his exit. Running and hiding and going to Blackburn instead of his team wasn't his finest move. No goodbyes, no explanations, just an empty cage. It's more than a little hard to get past that after all they've been through together.

Brock legitimately just doesn't understand. All of it. Or maybe he just refuses to believe it's as simple as it's being portrayed to be. Which means there has to be more information coming, something that will make this make sense with the Clay he thought he knew. So he tries to keep an open mind until that point feeling like someone at least should give him the benefit of the doubt.

There has to be a piece of the puzzle they are missing here. There has to be.

Which is why when the kid sends an email to the team the next day he actually reads it. And then reads it again, and again again obsessively searching for something else between the lines or a deeper meaning to the words. Frustratingly Spenser's message is clear and succinct and manages to say a lot without actually saying much at all. Clay is well spoken as always and heartfelt in his apologies and says he hopes they will forgive him one day. But still the only new tidbit they learn beyond what Blackburn already told them is that Clay left this morning to go to Liberia. He plans to spend his year away from the team doing some volunteer work where his Grandparents used to run their mission.

The email gets a lot of scoffs, and a couple eye rolls and Brock can see why in the face of his sudden departure it's really hard to accept his written sentiments about how much the team and his brothers mean to him and will be missed. As Trent acerbically puts it the brotherhood apparently didn't mean enough to warrant a simple conversation.

Brock tries to rise above those hurt feelings and to his knowledge is the only one to send a response back. Part of it is self serving as he uses the opportunity to probe for more information, still in search of that one detail that will make this all make sense. His questions go unanswered though.

Time passes, days and then weeks. Things get a little bit better and the jarringness of it fades as they fall into new routines. Bravo finds a half decent "temporary" replacement who fills a spot but not a hole. There are missions and deployments that get worked through but are filled with uncomfortable moments where Jason mistakenly turns to ask Clay to translate something or a joke gets made for Spenser's benefit and he isn't there to appreciate them. Team events also never quite feel right. Barbecues, beers, dinners, you name it, there is always a seat and a presence missing at the table and it feels a little bit worse because he could be there, he just is choosing not to be for whatever reason.

They slowly move forward even though there is a lingering feeling that they are just passing time. The team can't establish a new permanent solution because they don't know if it's a permanent problem. Jason refuses to fill the spot with anything more than a temporary fill in guy right now and even then they don't even let the new guy use Clay's cage, because despite everything that still feels disloyal.

For his part, Clay at least continues to stay in touch. While he doesn't respond directly to Brock's questions he does at least keep sending updates to the group. His emails are one-sided updates on his life and there is rarely anything of much substance. His missives read like that lengthy Christmas card you get from a distant relative laying out their last 12 months of fluffy family activities.

Brock tries to get the kid to facetime with them and hits a "Spenser special" stone wall complete with many many excuses. Eventually he has to settle for what Clay is apparently willing to give them.

Still he stubbornly continues to study the messages with a fine tooth comb. Eagerly searching for just one clue, just one thing that will help unravel the mystery. He tries to bring things up for discussion, sometimes reads the updates out loud when the team is together and doesn't get a whole lot of response or interest. Even still he keeps doing it because he is pretty sure that despite all pretences, deep down they do actually want to know what's going on with their team "kid".

Sonny is unsurprisingly on the extreme end of his approach to the situation. While most of the team's hurt feelings have faded with time to a slight bitter tinge or even reluctant acceptance, Bravo 3 oscillates wildly between pretending the kid is dead to them and pretending Clay just never even existed in the first place depending on the day. He doesn't mention him ever and if others do, he storms away from the conversation. Brock gets it, Clay was his best friend so maybe it stings a little extra to have been left out of the loop. But he also notices that for all his fire and bluster about the situation, Sonny doesn't ever actually go all that far away, just enough distance to prove his point but not so much that he can't hear what's being said about Spenser.

So Brock dutifully raises his voice and shares the stories from Clay's updates. Most of them are entertaining accounts of the different hijinks he's gotten up to during his time in Liberia. Firstly there was a language mix up that apparently led to him insulting the village elder's wife and getting chased out and banished temporarily until it could be cleared up. He also recounts his recent misfortune with a sudden allergy that sprang up to Cassava Root which is a staple in pretty much all meals there. Apparently he got quite a nasty case of hives on pretty much his whole body and then had to suffer through a 6 hour ride in a non air conditioned van to a larger town to try to find some benadryl.

After he read that one, Sonny, who definitely wasn't interested or listening, harrumphed and muttered something along the lines of serving him right.

The next email tells of what sounds like an incredibly poor decision to go hang gliding with some home made equipment. Unsurprisingly it led to a close call with a tree and a ravine and there are a few other adventures in a similar theme that make Trent cringe and take deep breaths. For some reason Brock finds it kind of reassuring because at least some things never change and Spenser is a trouble magnet wherever he is. Unfortunately it also drives home the point for them, and especially their medic, that Clay is beyond their ability to help right now when he does inevitably need it.

Eventually the emails peter out a little bit. They don't come as often and when they do there is less and less information to work with. Some boring stuff about weather or generic updates about things that happened in the village he is staying at. They start to lack Clay's personality. Before when he read a message he could close his eyes and exactly picture Spenser standing there and telling them the story in his usual animated fashion. Now these words could have come from anyone. It starts to feel like they are losing him all over again.

When there is an especially long break between them Brock actually takes to sending texts just to check in. It takes a few days but he gets a few short texts back. Nothing very descriptive or enlightening, but its better than nothing.

He tries to tell himself that Clay is just busy with his new life but for some reason he can't just leave it at that. The bad feeling in his gut comes back because he's seen too many friends and teammates go down a bad route. Swanny and Danny as the most recent and most impactful example of what can happen when people are out of sight and out of mind. He truly doesn't know where Clay's head is at these days but he's determined not to let him slip away from them. This is not going to be another "we will keep in touch" situation that fizzles out. He refuses to let Bravo's bond be something so shallow or mean so little. Bravo is supposed to be family, something that should persevere, through thick and thin and mysterious absences and whether Clay intends on coming back or not.

He sent a text earlier in the week and got no response. A little delay isn't unusual given the time change and what he assumes is poor cell service but he would have expected something by now. It gets his gut churning again. He knows Clay is probably just occupied or out of service, still a little proof of life isn't too much to ask for. Especially since he knows there isn't really anyone else in Clay's life who is probably checking up on him. Someone should at least know if the kid manages to get himself kidnapped or something stupid like that.

Brock waits a few more days and then sends one more text checking in Hope you are doing well. Give me a shout or drop us a line when you can. He puts the phone down but doesn't feel any better. Cerb jumps up on the bed next to him and nuzzles his head under his arm. Within a few moments the dog's breathing has evened out to a nice steady cadence. Brock lies there slowly running his fingers through the dogs fur until a long time later he finally convinces his brain to turn off and go to sleep.

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Somehow anytime I write Brock my word count automatically triples because his backstory always seems to demand to be created and told. Maybe that's just because we know so damn little about him on the show.

But with all that he got to say here, unfortunately neither he nor Bravo has any answers to share. Luckily Clay will get a chance to speak for himself in the next few chapters and maybe shed some light on things.