Morgan felt like a house fell on her. Everything hurt. Her teeth, her hair, her head, her feet. There wasn't an inch of her body that didn't feel like it was battered or bruised. She woke up with enough pain for the entire fucking Naval Academy.

She looked around, trying to decide where she was, a hospital obviously. Since she was hooked up to enough monitors and had enough IVs to feed a small nation, she had to assume she'd been found in time. In time to be saved, but by who?

Her heart monitor alerted the nursing station that she was awake, that sharp spike of unease made everyone's heart ratchet up. A kind looking nurse walked in and smiled. "Thank goodness you're awake!" She greeted Morgan, walking to turn the monitor's warning screech off. "Your visitors are pretty scary, especially when you're completely out of it and the doctor keeps having to explain that you'll wake when you feel like waking." She smiled down at her patient. "You'd understand, they told us you're a doctor yourself." She checked the IVs and then asked Morgan the two most important questions she had ever heard. "Are you in pain?" Morgan tried to shrug her shoulder, but a flare of intense pain flared through her. "So that's a yes," the nurse smiled. "Are you up for visitors?"

"Yes," Morgan's voice was hoarse. "Where am I?" She asked, once the nurse gave her a sip of water from a cup with a straw.

"Los Angeles." She noticed Morgan's grimace. "Do you know your name?" Suddenly realizing that she hadn't asked that important question.

"Captain Morgan Dean." Morgan answered promptly. "And if I haven't been out for years, the current President of the United States is an asshole I didn't vote for." That made the nurse chuckle. "Who brought me in?"

"Let me go get them," the nurse answered with a grin. "If I don't inform them immediately, I'm afraid they'll tear the hospital apart." Before she left she told Morgan she'd send the doctor in to see her soon.

The first head to pop in the door, a few moments later, was Jensen's. Morgan tried to smile, but her face hurt. Then came Cougar, Pooch, Roque, and finally Clay. "Well, look at this," she said, feeling her body scream at the effort. "The gang's all here."

"Lie still," Jensen whispered, coming closer and standing right beside her. "You're more banged up than any of us have ever been."

"That Wade Travis," she joked, gasping when her ribs protested. "He's a dedicated employee isn't he?"

A growl came out of one of their throats, but her eyes were still swollen, so it was hard to pinpoint the source. "Tell me I'm still at least a little pretty, guys," she whispered, feeling their tension roll over her. "I mean, I can survive on my charm alone."

"You're fucking beautiful, Morgan," Clay's voice piped up from the other side of her bed, at her head, as he tried to reach in and touch her, but every part of her was badaged, bruised, or hooked up to a machine. "Always have been, always will be."

"A poet," she said, looking up at his vague outline. "Well, thanks for the attempt to make me feel better."

The silence became overwhelming. She couldn't stand pity, or whatever they were all so focused on. "So with one vote for 'I'm still pretty', let's try this again. Which one of you found me and rescued me?"

Jensen gave a half-hearted chuckle. "That was me. I thought-" He took a ragged breath. "You weren't moving, and I thought-"

Morgan tried a smile again, and figured the pain was worth soothing her hero. "Aw, Jensen, I'm great. I mean, a day or two more and I'll be up and ready to dance." Again the silence descended. "Unless you guys know something I don't." She finally let her fear come out in her voice.

The doctor looked around the waiting room at the men sitting in a clutch. One was still coated in the woman's blood, and there were smears of it on two others. He cleared his throat and five pairs of eyes flashed to him.

The leader, clear because he stood faster than the others, confronted him. He held up a hand to stop a flood of questions. "Her surgery went well. She's unconscious, which is a relief, she needs the rest to begin healing. I could list her injuries, but honestly, I'm not sure I'd even get all of them out." He sighed, whatever had befallen Captain Dean was horrific. "I hope that whomever caused the damage is-"

"That person was taken care of, Sir." The young man coated in her blood assured him.

"Good," the doctor didn't condone violence, but what Captain Dean had been put through, it was beyond what he'd even seen in car crashes. "As for her recovery." He stopped, took off his own glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. "I can't promise anything. She's had extensive internal injuries. She didn't suffer any spinal injuries, that we could see from the x-rays, but that doesn't mean that she's going to pop up tomorrow and return to her regular life. If she even wakes up tomorrow."

"Doc," Clay started, feeling his chest tighten, "is she gonna wake up?"

"That's up to her," the doctor answered honestly. "Right now, being out is good. It means she's quiet, she's still, and that allows healing to happen." He sighed and moved to an empty chair. "The truth is this, gentlemen, Captain Dean has been through such trauma that her brain may not recover. If it does recover, her medical career may very well be over. The nerve damage, the blood loss, the things that the person who did this inflicted on her body, it was more extensive than I've ever seen." He looked at the men gathered around him. "Right now she's in ICU. Her visitations are limited, her care is extreme. She can see one of you at a time, and for only five minutes each." He stood back up and offered at least some hope. "She's a fighter, gentlemen, that I can assure you. Anyone else her size that went through the same trauma, wouldn't have made it to the hospital."

Morgan waited for one of them to answer, but a new voice broke the silence. "Ah, Captain Dean, I see you're awake." A pin light was flashed in the slits where her eyes were usually seen. She blinked against the brightness. "I'm sorry, I have to check."

"I know," she groaned, as his hands moved to her head. "Fuck, that hurts!"

The doctor chuckled a little. "Tender or pain?"

"PAIN," she screamed. "Like a fucking ton of pain."

Another chuckle. "Don't scream out so much, these gentlemen look tense enough without your help." He checked her over and came back to her head. "Aside from the pain, is there any other discomfort?"

"I think the pain is enough," she gritted out. "I was asking the 'gentlemen' here what my prognosis is, they got a little too quiet for my tastes."

The doctor sighed. "That's because they don't know." He drew her gaze, hazing and slitted though it was to his face. "I'm not going to lie to another physician, Captain Dean. It wasn't good, not when you went under for surgery a week ago." He saw her taking the news in stride. "But you're awake, you seem to have your faculties about you, you're giving these men a hard time. I think the prognosis is getting better by the minute." He touched her hand gently. "You're very lucky, Captain. Your team did everything to make sure you had a chance."

He left after a brief chat with the others. Morgan was about to drift off again, and she'd only been awake for like a half an hour. That sucked. "You tired, Mo?" Jensen's voice called to her through the dim.

She hummed her affirmative. She felt his hand brush her bangs back from her forehead. "You scared the shit out of me, Mo." His voice was tight and quiet. "Thought I'd found you only to have to say goodbye again. NEVER do that again." She gave a tiny chuckle. "Clay's not the only one who'd die without you."

And that was all she heard before the darkness took her again. Darkness and drugs.

The next time Morgan woke, the pain was dimmer. Thank fucking God, she thought as a hand brought her straw to her lips. She sipped, not opening her swollen eyes yet. "Thank you." She whispered, her voice still raw. "Whoever you are."

His chuckle, she'd know it anywhere. "Scared the fucking hell out of me, Morgan." Clay sat the cup down on the rolling table and stood over her. Her face was swollen, bruised, and he wanted to kill Wade all over again. And Max, well Max was adding to his bill. "When Roque gave me that fucking flag-"

"Shh." She said, hushing him. "Let's just not, not right now, please?" She was pleading with him, and he felt like his heart was clenching again. "Let's just pretend that I've been tortured and survived, shall we?"

He chuckled again. Trust Morgan to make a fucking joke about her reality. "Fine, we'll do it your way." He wanted to touch her. "We'll pretend a sadistic employee of the month tortured you and we fucking killed him. How does that sound?"

She smiled, or tried to, it looked painful. "That sounds wonderful. Wade Travis dead. Ah, paradise." Her eyes opened, as much as they could and trained on his face. "Where are the others?"

"It was my turn for alone time with you," he whispered, brushing her bangs back from her bruised forehead. "Or I kicked them the fuck out, whichever makes you less pissed."

She gave a hoarse chuckle. "I'm not sure which would work to keep me pleasant, so we'll pretend that I'm happy to be alone with you."

He nodded, wishing that he could kiss her. Kiss her and make the entire ordeal disappear and she'd be better. "That works." He smiled, his dimples coming out and he hoped she could see them. "I missed you."

She sighed. "Me too." Her hand was tugging on her blanket, a rare sign of stress and he knew it. "I didn't understand that damn flag, but I'm glad I took it to Bolivia. Sit, Clay, I hate when you hover."

He pulled a chair closer to the bed and lowered the guardrail so he could move even closer to her. "There isn't anyone, and I mean ANYONE, that I trust more than you with my entire being, Morgan." His hand brushed her fidgeting hand. "I put you down as my next of kin the day you signed up with our team. I knew that you were it for me."

She looked over at him, grimacing at the tenderness in her neck. He could still see the fingerprints marking the flesh. "I fought it, Clay, fought you and me. And you kept fucking pushing." She didn't sound mad, she wasn't, not anymore. "You were my commanding officer, Clay, that first night shouldn't have happened. At least that's what I thought at the time. That's why I left the fucking note that you kept tossing back in my damn face. Why I ran." His fingers were still light on her hand, so she turned it over palm up and linked her fingers with his. "I almost died after you faked your own fucking death and I never told you-"

It was Clay's turn to shush her. "Don't, Morgan. We have all the time in the world." He leaned over and chanced a kiss on her forehead. He felt her groan and pulled away. "Did that hurt?"

"A little, but it was worth it." She smirked, and realized that didn't hurt. "You know why he took me?"

Clay nodded. "He had my personnel file. He saw you listed as next of kin." The urge to clutch her to him and never let go rushed through him. "My fault again."

"Nah," she answered, brushing that shit off. "He took me for that, sure, but he had me beaten and tortured for my own fucking mouth." She smirked again as he took in her face. "What? Did you think you're the only person who says the wrong fucking thing at the wrong fucking time?" She rolled her eyes and found that motion actually did hurt. Damn it.

"What's wrong, baby, should I get the doctor?" He was fearful still, terrified that the worst was yet to come.

"No, I'm fine." She grouched. "It pisses me off that I can't roll my fucking eyes without feeling like a mother fucking house fell on my head, but I'll live."

His chuckle came again. "Max is still out there, Morgan." He was sobered by that reality. "We can't be free until he's taken down, not fully anyway."

Morgan sighed. "We'll get him, then." Simple enough. "Pooch go home to Jolene for the baby yet?"

Clay knew that dismissal meant she wasn't ready to deal with Max. "Not yet, still got a few weeks."

She tried to nod and another rush of pain hit her. "FUCK!" She growled. He tensed, ready to punch the button for the nurse, but she squeezed his hand. "I'm FINE, Clay. Just irritated beyond belief with this whole invalid, pain filled bullshit." She groaned and looked up at his face again. "Kind of wish Wade wasn't dead, so I could punch him repeatedly in his tiny little dick until he cried."

Clay laughed, and then they were interrupted by Jensen's voice. "What's so funny?"

Morgan gestured for him to join them. "Apparently Clay here thinks it's funny that I'm in pain." She made a pouty face and met the younger man's eyes. "He laughs at my pain."

Clay shook his head. "I was laughing because even as a pain filled invalid, Morgan here harbors the darkest urges imaginable. She wishes we'd revive Wade's corpse so she can dick punch him to a sobbing mess."

Jensen smiled down at the thought. "Sounds fun, I'll download a necronomicon and we'll get to work, Mo." Morgan chuckled as Clay's eyebrows wrinkled.

"Geeks," he muttered, standing and giving Morgan's forehead a very gentle kiss. "I'll be back in a bit, baby." He shot a look at Jensen and the younger man saluted him. "Don't tire her out too much, Jensen."

"Wouldn't dream of it, Sir." He mocked. Morgan tried to hold back her laughter, but couldn't it broke and got a glare from Clay at the door.

"Behave yourselves," he rolled his eyes and left.

Morgan rolled her head to look at Jensen. "Why don't you take your fearless leader's seat?" She gestured to the chair Clay left close to her bed. "Then you won't be hovering over me either." She muttered about being surrounded by giant men as Jensen got comfortable in the abandoned chair. "There, my hero."

"Ah, Mo, that's not-" Jensen blushed, trying to deny his rescue.

Morgan shook her head, gasped at the pain and moved on to what she wanted to say. "You saved me, Jen. I'm a doctor, I know it." She closed her eyes and swallowed. When she reopened them, Jensen was holding the straw to her lips. She took a few sips and pushed it away. "Thank you. As I was saying, I know how bad it was. Maybe not the full extent, but I knew that if I wasn't found, if I slipped under the unconsciousness, then I wasn't going to make it." Jensen put the cup back on the rolling table. "So, you're my fucking hero, Jen, even if you want to fucking deny it." She reached the hand that Clay held and took Jensen's. Their fingers linked and he kissed her knuckles. "Thank you, Jen, for getting to me in time. For finding me. And for getting me out of that hole."

Jensen looked into her eyes. "I saw you, strapped to that fucking chair, Mo. You were limp, but I swear I heard you say something." He swallowed down the fear he'd had when he found her bloody in that fucking building. "All I could think about was keeping you here, with us, with me." She stared at his blue eyes behind the ever present glasses. "I couldn't check to see- I couldn't stop to find your pulse, I don't think I fucking breathed once I got you outside until Clay found it." He licked his lips. "All I could think was that you'd promised we'd see one another again, and that was going to be the last time. That your blood all over me was as close as I'd ever get to holding you."

Morgan swallowed. How had she missed it? Missed that beautiful, awkward Jake Jensen cared for her? Fucking idiot. "Jen," she started, thinking that if Clay heard this all hell would break loose. "Jensen?"

His eyes were blazing behind his glasses. "I know that you and Clay are complicated. I know how you both feel about one another, I'm not stupid, Mo." His hand held hers like she was made of glass. "But I also know that I'd never brush you aside, or try to forget you. Aside from my niece and my sister, you're the only other person who's haunted my dreams since we've been playing dead." He licked his lip and stared into her eyes. "I wanted nothing more than to find my way back to make sure you were alright. You, Mo, just you."

They heard a throat clear and Morgan looked up from the tense little bubble they'd created. Her doctor was standing in the doorway with a nurse. "Time for a check up, Captain." The doctor smiled, and Jensen started to pull his hand away. "He can stay if you want him to," the doctor gestured to the clasped hands.

"Please," Morgan asked, looking back at Jensen. "Stay with me?"

His smile was breathtaking. "Absolutely."