Author's Note: Oh, blarghy blarghy blargh. I know I'm quite behind now. I know it's not a great excuse, but I haven't been feeling well, and I certainly let writing get away from me for a minute there. But I'm going to catch up! I mean it! In the meantime, thanks for your patience. :)

This prompt was pretty tough for me too, considering the "leave no man behind" mentality. But here it issss. Enjoooy.

8. Where Did Everybody Go? ("Don't Say Goodbye" | Abandoned | Isolation)

"No, Command was clear. We have to take out the head of the cell, and the only chance we have is during his weekly trip to meet his business partner. It's a small window, and we simply won't have time for a rescue."

Damn, he couldn't believe he was saying it.

"You can't be serious," Jaz accused, her rage clear on her face. "We can't just leave them there. They've gone through months of hell on that compound."

"The directive is clear," Adam repeated. He felt sick. It wasn't his inclination to leave people behind. To leave them trapped. But he'd looked at it from every possible view, and they couldn't eliminate the head of the terrorist cell and rescue imprisoned CIA agents. They didn't have the time or the manpower. They could only hope that the fallout from their objective would leave an opening for a rescue. Probably for another team. At another time.

But not now.

"What about that doctor in Syria? What about me? You came back for us!"

Adam kept his face firm. Stony. He couldn't be vulnerable. It was his job to keep the team focused. It was his job to enforce the hardest plans.

They had an objective, and he had to keep firm.

"Come on, Top. There's gotta be a way," McG huffed, shaking his head. Adam could see the blatant disappointment in his eyes. The subtle disbelief.

Adam was letting them down. He could see it. Even in Amir's careful mask.

It was their job to help people. And here Adam was telling them no.

Of course he was the bad guy.

"No, there's not," Adam pressed. "We can't afford to waste time planning around an impossible task. Focus on the objective. We're here to eliminate the head of the cell, and that's all."

"Didn't know you could be such a stubborn, unfeeling ass," Jaz hissed, snatching up her pack to stalk out of the building. McG followed behind her with a little less heat, but from his posture, Adam knew he just wanted to get away. To get away from Adam.

Amir moved to bring up the rear, stopping with a turn toward Adam. But he wouldn't look him in the eyes. Just the floor. "I think . . . I think we'll meet you at the rally point."

Adam couldn't get a word out. All he could do was watch Amir follow his teammates, leaving him alone in the abandoned building. Preach was already at their meetup spot, scoping out the area. And that was just a few blocks away.

So Adam was on his own.

It was times like this when the job was the hardest. He wasn't just telling them to focus.

He was telling them to abandon their allies. Two CIA agents. He was essentially telling them to let the agents die. To leave them to succumb to their torture. Alone. Abandoned by the country they protected.

And in their line of work, it was a deeply difficult ask.

If he were them, he'd feel like leaving too.

But it was better this way. They just didn't have time to focus on both halves of the problem. If they spared too much time on a rescue, they wouldn't have enough time to form a solid assassination plan. He'd already hashed this out with Patricia. They'd gone over threat assessments and known patterns. They'd discussed blueprints, defensive weaknesses. They went through it all as quickly and efficiently as possible in the hour they could spare.

It still wasn't enough. It couldn't be done. If they did the assassination first, the rest of the cell would react in a way that made it near impossible to infiltrate the compound without immediate loss. Doing the rescue first would change the cell leader's normal pattern, and they'd risk missing their opportunity altogether.

He and Patricia had silently mourned the failure over the comms. The realization of what had to be done sat heavy on their minds. But still, neither were quite ready to leave the agents to such a wicked fate.

Adam knew he could've told the team everything he and Patricia had discussed. But he knew them. He knew they'd want to discuss it further. He knew they'd want to offer their different perspectives, certain an answer lied in one of their unique views. And he'd still have to draw the line. He'd still have to put a stop to it to force them to focus.

So it was better to just do it up front.

He could tell the team after the mission all the avenues he and Patricia had explored. And this way, he could protect them from the guilt.

Because it would be all his.

If they'd spent the time trying to figure out a rescue plan, they'd feel responsible for not being smart enough. Creative enough. But if the planning stopped with Adam, they'd only have him to blame.

They could sleep peacefully knowing that they'd done all they could reasonably do without disobeying direct orders.

But Adam always felt like such a damn bastard at times like this.

"Dalton. We're on a private line."

With a sigh, he leaned against the concrete wall, staring across the barren industrial room. "That went about as well as expected."

"You made the right call," Patricia remarked.

"Did I?"

Understanding silence hung in the air, and the two let it linger, clinging to it like the vaguely comforting lifeline it was.

"If . . . If it's alright with you, I think I'd like some time alone with my thoughts," he muttered, rubbing tiredly at his eyes.

"Of course. You've got forty-five minutes."

He stared down at a crack in the floor, his heart heavy. "Thanks."

With a familiar rustle, the line went dead. Silent.

He was truly alone. Alone with his own bastard self.

He leaned his head back against the wall, huffing out of his nose.

The door began to open, the telltale squeaks echoing over concrete walls and floors. At first, Adam thought it might be the team, coming back to tear him a new one, but with a quick glimpse at the opening, he spotted familiar strangers.

Members of the terrorist cell.

Panicked, he moved to hide behind a load-bearing steel beam, retrieving his pistol. Thankfully, it sounded like they hadn't spotted him. He could hear feet tapping across the floor, frantic voices speaking quickly as they fanned out over the space. It sounded like maybe four . . . five men?

He peered carefully around his hiding column, spotting one of the men carrying a suspicious bag of supplies. From the intel they had on the cell, he suspected it was supplies for a bomb.

Were they planning an attack?

Damn, what were the odds they were planning an attack on the same day his teamwas planning an assassination? And what were the odds they'd choose this abandoned building for the prep? The file had a list of suspected hideouts. This was not one of them.

At least his team had already headed toward the rally point.

Measuring his breathing, Adam listened carefully, waiting for the voices to move to the complete opposite side of the building.

When he was sure they were looking away, he silently made his way to the next column, closer to the door. He had to be careful. Patient.

He'd almost made it. But one of the men turned unexpectedly. And from the man's frantic call and the following silence, he knew. He knew he'd been seen just as he stepped behind the cover of another steel pillar.

And hell, he was all alone here. Most likely, Patricia had also ordered Noah to turn off his bodycam for his own privacy. No one knew what was happening here. He was on his own.

The best chance he had was to run. To somehow get out that door and into the maze of the city.

But he couldn't lead them to the rest of the team.

And he couldn't let these men alert the others in their cause.

Besides all that, he couldn't stand by and let these men go through with their plan. Hurting people. Innocent, good people.

So he had to fight. He had to take as many down with him as possible.

Shit.

Slowing his breathing, he willed his heart to beat more steadily. He narrowed his focus. Found a targeted stillness to ramp up precision.

Then he stepped out from his hiding place, pistol raised.

He aimed and fired with as much efficiency as he could muster, taking down two before they could even retaliate. Then the bullets started to fly. They ricocheted off steel. Buried themselves into concrete. Adam took another one down. Another. And there was only one left.

Then a bullet tore into his side, throwing him off balance. The white-hot pain bolted through his body, yanking on his nerves as he unconsciously curled into his side. In his distraction, he was struck by another bullet, this time in the opposite shoulder.

Blood was spilling out of his body, bleeding into his shirt as the world tilted and swam.

Before he lost complete control over his body and senses, he raised his gun, aiming amid blurring vision.

He fired.

And missed.

Forcing himself to focus through the searing pain and ricocheting bullets, he tried again.

This time, it met its mark. The last of the terrorists fell.

Overwhelmed, Adam dropped his pistol, letting it clatter uselessly on the floor. He reached out to the nearest column, leaning heavily against the cold metal. Somewhere in the distance, he could hear the sickening sound of a gurgling, dying man, and the image seemed to wind itself into his swirling thoughts.

He had to make it to his team. He had to get out. Get help.

Chancing it, he stumbled to the next beam. Then the next. His body was fading. His vision dimming. He was tripping over his own feet now. He pressed a weak hand against his side, feeling the slick, sticky blood against his palm and in between his fingers.

So this was it. This was how he'd go. Inadvertently stopping a bombing by simply being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Or the right place at the right time?

He hoped Patricia would tell the team about how they tried to find a way to rescue the agents. Just so they knew he wasn't as heartless as they thought.

He didn't want to be remembered as inhumane. Didn't want his team to think that about him.

He respected them far too much for that.

Adam finally stumbled to the door, pressing a bloody hand against the back of it. But he didn't have the strength to pull it open. After all that, he couldn't get out.

His legs gave out, and he fell against the door, his weakening body sliding down the metal slab. Finally, he collapsed against the concrete floor, landing painfully on his injured side.

Then darkness.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-00-0-0-0-0-0

Patricia peered at her watch. It was nearly time.

With a sigh she turned to Noah. "Turn Dalton's cam and comm back on."

Noah obediently did as he was told. The image came up.

And the room immediately froze.

Adam's camera was tilted on the side, catching a glimpse of bloody bodies lying on the concrete some distance away.

And the lens was flecked with red speckles. Blood.

"Dalton?" Patricia tried quietly, shocked into paralysis.

No answer.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

"Where is he?" Jaz growled. "Don't tell me he's ditching us now too."

"That's not like Top," Amir replied, sounding somewhat peeved by Jaz's disrespect.

"I'd also say abandoning people to be tortured to death also isn't like Top, but color me surprised," Jaz bit out disdainfully.

Preach leveled a patient look at her. "He had to have a reason. Consider where he's coming from."

"Impossible. Because I'd like to think I'd never be so callous."

"Jaz," McG admonished quietly over the comms. He'd been quieter than usual, lost in his own thoughts. But speaking vindictively about a man that'd saved their lives more than a few times didn't sit right with him.

"Command, any signs of Top?" Preach asked carefully, peering through the rangefinder with steady focus.

"He's been delayed. Proceed as planned," came Patricia's firm voice. But there was something off about it. Preach couldn't quite place it.

"So he is abandoning us," Jaz muttered, setting up her sniper rifle and carefully peering through the scope.

"Have some respect," McG replied with a hiss. He and Amir were on the ground, keeping an eye out for the target to give Jaz some direction. "To the southeast. Near the tea shop."

Jaz turned her rifle just enough to get a visual.

And now they simply had to wait. For the right time.

Seconds ticked by. Slowly.

With each step, the man got closer.

Closer.

He soon stepped into the perfect spot. To spare the innocent bystanders.

There.

With exact precision, Jaz pulled the trigger.

The body fell.

Mayhem followed.

"Target eliminated," Amir reported. He and McG smoothly moved their way through the panicking crowd, heading back toward their teammates in a way that wouldn't bring attention to themselves. They blended in, practically swimming with the currents of the crowds.

"Well done, team," Patricia said quickly, not quite as sincere as usual. She seemed distracted. "I need you to return to the checkpoint as soon as possible." It wasn't a wholly surprising order. But the edge to it was unusual. Dangerous. Telling.

Jaz paused as she put her rifle away, her gaze meeting Preach's.

"Deputy director?" Preach prodded, hastily packing away his gear to sling his pack onto his shoulders.

"Dalton is down and unresponsive."

A sudden surge of fear gripped Jaz's chest. "What?"

"What happened?" Preach asked tersely, helping Jaz pack her gear to speed things up.

"It's unclear. His camera and comm were off. By all our records and analyses, he shouldn't have met any trouble."

In Jaz's chest, the icy burn of terror clashed against a wild tide of confusion and anger. "What do you mean his camera and comm were off?" she demanded, shutting her rifle case and snapping up her things. Preach grabbed McG's pack that he'd left behind, and without a word, the taller man led the way to the stairs, urging Jaz to follow.

"He needed time before the op."

What? What did that even mean?

Knowing they wouldn't get any more out of Patricia, Preach and Jaz quickly descended the stairs, running into McG and Amir at the bottom. With only pointed eye contact, the four of them swiftly moved into the secretive veins of the streets, steadily navigating the few blocks back to their temporary base.

The crowd thinned as they moved along, until it disappeared completely, leaving them alone in a more industrial patch of the city. As soon as the abandoned warehouse was in sight, they jogged to the familiar metal door, McG heading the group.

The medic moved to push the door open. But he was met with resistance. He pushed again.

"Careful," Noah warned hastily. "It looks like Dalton's on the other side of the door."

McG could feel his blood run cold at Noah's report. The only way in was to push Adam with the door. Nausea nestled into the pit of his stomach.

Pushing aside his discomfort, he carefully pressed against the door, feeling the weight behind it shift steadily. His eyes fell to the floor, and he stopped.

Blood was smearing across the floor, spread thin by the bottom of the door. The nausea multiplied.

He pushed a little more, imagining Adam's dead weight on the other side of the door, moving limply. And once the door was open just enough, he took off his med pack and squeezed through the opening.

"Shit," he huffed, dropping out of sight.

Unable to bear it any longer, Jaz abandoned her things near the door and squeezed her own way through.

She looked. And stiffened.

Adam was lying on the floor, blood soaked into the shoulder of his shirt. Smudging the floor. Smearing the back of the door. And from a quick scan, she could see his path of travel through the room. Where he'd been hit first. Where he'd stopped to rest. The droplets said it all.

Several yards away, there was a grouping of bloodied bodies, clearly brought down by Adam. Near the fallen figures, there were supplies that could easily make up a crude bomb, messily arranged on an abandoned table.

"Help me get him away from the door," McG asked, oddly breathless.

She didn't hesitate, immediately moving in to grab Adam's calves as she and McG gingerly lifted him between the two of them, moving him a few feet from the door. He was still warm. He was alive.

But he didn't stir. Not a groan. Not an unconscious wince. Nothing.

She could sense Amir and Preach coming in behind her, but she didn't turn around. Jaz forced herself to look. To take in the blood. The painful journey he took on to get to the door.

The blood trail told a story. A story of a lone man focusing on elimination first. Escape second. Sacrificing his life to instead take out the intruders.

And looking at the bomb supplies, she knew why. First and foremost, he had to keep them from warning their target. He had to preserve the mission. And second, he had to stop them. To keep them from hurting people.

He'd prioritized other people over himself.

And he'd paid for it.

From the red streaks on the door, she knew he'd run out of strength and energy there. He'd passed out trapped in this abandoned building. Alone. Supportless.

Because they'd left him.

They shouldn't have left him.

Overwhelmed, she clasped her hands on the top of her head, pressing against her skull as if it would distract her from her own helplessness.

Amir had stepped in to help McG, handing him bandages and keeping pressure against Adam's shoulder. The blond's pallor was deathly pale, and it seemed to make the crimson splatters on his face starker.

McG worked quickly while the rest of the team could only look on and scan the room.

"I thought this wasn't a point of interest," Preach muttered, somewhat confused.

"It wasn't," Patricia murmured. "No one should've been here. Every analysis told us they wouldn't be."

"Just proves how unpredictable humans can be," Preach replied, his tone downtrodden and somber.

McG exhaled heavily, swiping a clean wrist across his brow. He packed the gauze over Adam's bleeding side, dismayed by the constant darkening of red on clean white. When it seemed to slow a little, he finished up the dressing and moved to the shoulder, where Amir was dutifully applying pressure.

Looking at the second injury, McG checked for an exit wound, dismayed when he didn't find one. Left with no choice, he retrieved his forceps. And he started digging.

They expected Adam to wake up at the sudden surge of pain. They hoped he woke up at the sudden surge of pain. But he didn't. He remained completely still. Overly pale.

And somehow, that just made all this worse.

McG finally pulled the offending slug out of the blond, dropping the metal piece unceremoniously on the floor. Then he packed the second wound, bandaging it properly but hastily. He breathed deeply, wiping bloody hands on his pants. "This is the best I can do for now. We need to get him proper medical help."

"Head to evac. Pilots are already prepped to take you to the nearest medical center," Hannah advised, not wasting any time.

Preach didn't say a word as he moved forward to carefully shoulder Adam's prone body. The rest of the team helped, hovering worriedly as Preach got their team leader situated properly.

And with one last look at the bloody door, the team left the building behind, carrying Adam through shadowed, abandoned streets. Evac was only a few streets over, and luckily, they made it without incident.

A chopper waited for them, blades already spinning for a quick escape. Jaz and Amir stepped up into the bird, immediately reaching for Adam as they carefully pulled their CO into the chopper.

And he was like a ragdoll. Pale. Limp. Unresponsive.

To think their last interaction with him had been one of disdain.

Jaz wondered if her past actions were justified. They seemed like they would be, but now she was second-guessing herself. She felt like she missed something.

Preach was right. It wasn't like Top to give up on a rescue. He had to have a reason.

Why hadn't she considered that before?

Why did she have to be so quick to condemn him?

If she hadn't, he wouldn't have been alone.

What if he died thinking they hated him?

"He didn't want you all to be a part of the failure."

Patricia's voice was so unexpected. Raw. Jaz didn't know what to make of it. Nor did the rest of the team, if their expressions were anything to go by.

"Adam decided not to share everything we explored and considered for a possible rescue mission. At least, not right away," Patricia continued. "Said he didn't want you all to have to wonder what you missed."

The realization dug deep into their minds, cold and dark. Adam was trying to keep them out of it so they didn't have to come to the same conclusion he had: the impossibility of a rescue. A conclusion that would haunt them for weeks. They'd wonder and wonder if they simply hadn't thought of the right plan in time. A torturous line of thought.

He did it to protect them.

"To be clear, we looked at every angle we could in what little time we had. We explored every option, but working inside a secure compound isn't the same as working in a public hospital." Patricia paused, as if reflecting on her previous conversation with Adam. "He knew you'd be disappointed, but he figured that would be better than the alternative."

The reason why he'd had his camera and comm off suddenly became abundantly clear. He was upset after they'd left. Lost in their disappointment.

He'd needed a minute to get himself together.

Jaz should've known. Preach did. How come she didn't? Adam wouldn't leave their peers to suffer if he didn't have to. She should've known he'd already checked every possible approach to make sure. Adam didn't abandon human beings flippantly. He only allowed abandonment when the risks were too high. When the only outcome was failure.

She'd been so angry. Blinded, to be accurate.

And of course, he'd only done it to protect them from the inevitable failure that would await them. He knew them so well. He knew he had to be firm to stop them from even considering it.

If Jaz had stopped for even a moment to think about it, he wouldn't have been alone.

Her eyes dropped to the darkening bandage at Adam's side.

They'd abandoned him.

In the field, they should always have each other's backs. And they didn't have his.

She glanced at Preach, horrified to see the somber expression on his face. He was excellent at finding the positive or hopeful spin to things, but right now, all she could see was a depth of sorrow she'd never witnessed before.

Maybe if Preach had been there, they wouldn't have been so quick to walk out. Preach was always the voice of reason when Adam couldn't be one. And he knew Adam better than the rest of them did. Jaz liked to think she knew her CO well, but she didn't even stop to really think about why. She'd been faster to accuse than to question.

Somehow, she'd allowed herself to believe Adam could show a crueler side.

Jaz buried her face in her hands, unable to look at Adam's ghostly face any longer.

And they rode the rest of the way in complete, sober silence. Even Preach's normally calm, soothing presence had soured into something darker, while McG hovered over Adam with a painfully worried gaze.

None of them were prepared for this.

When the chopper landed, they were thrust into a flurry of activity. Medical personal grabbed at Adam as they yelled various numbers and medical terms. The pulled him away to hastily put him on a gurney, and then they were swiftly rolling him away. In seconds, he was ripped from the team's hands.

It felt like they'd lost their privileges to take care of him. The whole action felt strangely scolding and cruel.

And they didn't really have time to rush out and catch up.

Adam was gone before they had enough mind to follow.

"What if we don't see him again?" Jaz whispered, staring blankly at the door he'd disappeared behind.

McG dropped a hand to her shoulder, giving it a comforting squeeze as he passed by her. But no one actually answered. Not even Preach.

And she was left to drown in her own question.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

The wait was draining. Uncomfortable.

The four of them camped out in the waiting room, anxious to hear any news. And none of them had the energy to pace. To take a walk. Or even sit up straight in their seats. And while Preach was usually a fountain of soothing wisdom and reassurance, he'd gone silent.

Hours went by. But they hardly moved.

They didn't want to.

"Anyone here for Captain Dalton?"

As if reenergized, the team perked up, standing immediately to make their way to the doctor. He met them halfway, gesturing for them to take a seat again before taking one himself. The team reluctantly sat back down, anxious to hear the news.

"First off, Captain Dalton is stable."

There were a few sets of shoulders sagging in relief.

"He lost a lot of blood, but we pushed a few bags to help get things back in order. The shoulder GSW was a clean fix. Stitched up nicely and it shouldn't cause any problems. The other one, however, was much more complicated." The doctor paused briefly, just to take a breath. "The bullet essentially tore the muscle and tissue in such a way that it was a bit more difficult to stitch together. But while it bled plenty, it fortunately didn't hit anything vital. So barring any complications, he should make a full recovery."
"That's great news," Preach replied, offering a warm smile.

The doctor returned a smile of his own, though it was a bit dampened by his own sympathetic kindness. "I don't suspect he'll be fully conscious and lucid for a long while, but you are certainly welcome to keep him company in the meantime."

The team enthusiastically agreed, and a nurse was called to lead them to Adam's room. With a polite, pleasant smile, she led them through the hallways, finally stopping at a dimly lit room.

"Let us know if you need anything. We're just right down the hall," she offered.

"Thanks so much," Amir replied, and with a nod, she headed back to the nurse's station.

When they entered, they were unsure. Slow. Preach led the way, and he stopped just as he got in view of Adam. Anxious, the others stepped around him.

And halted.

Adam was lying peacefully in low light, still pale, and somehow . . . the image was heartbreaking. How lonely and still he was lying there.

McG thought about what must've been going through Adam's head when he'd reached that door. When he got there and knew he couldn't get out.

If maybe he thought he'd die there alone.

Or if that even crossed Adam's mind. Knowing their CO, he was probably more worried about not being there with the team. To support them on the mission. Either way, Adam must've collapsed in a state of desperation. Maybe regret.

And to fade away with that kind of anguish at the front of your mind . . . McG grimaced.

Without another word, they filed further into the room, collecting chairs as they set up a well-practiced but melancholy vigil.

They weren't there for him in that warehouse, but they sure as hell were going to be there when he woke up.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

They were getting antsy. Desperate. Adam hadn't yet awoken, which wasn't concerning. But the silence was cruel, turning their thoughts against themselves. And they didn't really feel like talking to break the guilty quiet.

They'd been keeping a near-wordless watch for over a day now. They managed naps here and there to keep them going, and they ate little. Every attempt to read ended in a tossed book or magazine, and even the background noise of the television seemed too much. So they sat in tense but oddly companionable silence, letting time tick by.

Then in the evening, Adam finally stirred.

The movement was quiet and slight. But in the emptiness of the room, it sent everyone on high alert. Each of them looked up, their gazes hopeful.

And Adam's eyes were open, blinking up at the cheaply tiled ceiling.

The team bolted up at once, eagerly moving closer to Adam as they watched him steadily return to consciousness. But they weren't entirely sure what to say. Normally, the response was so natural, but this wasn't like any other situation. It felt different.

"Hey, Top," Amir tried, folding his arms awkwardly as he managed a small smile. "How're you feeling?"

"I . . . " Adam began, but quickly got distracted by something else. His brow furrowed deeper, and a weak hand absently went to his side. "Damn, that hurts."

"Do you need painkillers?" McG asked hastily.

Adam quickly shook his head, his hand still settled on the wound. "No, it jus' . . . takes s'me getting used to." He breathed in deeply. "Is it bad?"

McG smiled, shaking his head. "You bled badly at the start, but the doc just had to stitch you up after getting some blood in you. Said it went well."

"Yeah, I . . . I r'member a lot o' bleedin'," Adam said absently, taking in his surroundings a little at a time. They'd expected him to be standoffish. Maybe a little unsure. But it was like nothing had changed.

Like they hadn't left him there to die alone.

His casual, almost friendly attitude tripled Jaz's guilt. Was he just pretending? Her heart sped up at the prospect. She couldn't just let this lie. It was quickly becoming clear he'd let them get away with this completely. And that just didn't sit well with her.

Nervous and overwhelmed, she stepped a little closer, her hands clenched at her sides, "Top, we should've been there—"

"Hey," Adam interrupted, shifting wearily to look at her. "Wh'tever you're 'bout to say, don't." He took a deep breath, moving some to get more comfortable. "I don' care what happen'd then. Just happy t'see you now."

His words were mumbled. Croaky.

But they were genuine.

He was weak and maybe a little out of it, but she knew. He meant every word. He wasn't trying to dodge the subject. Most likely, he'd forgiven them before they'd even walked out that warehouse door.

Jaz stared into the softened blue, and all the guilt she felt seemed to melt away. In just a look, he conveyed so much support and kindness. She closed her mouth, nearly taking a step back as emotions overwhelmed her. But she stood firm, eyes locked with Adam.

And all she could think was . . . why?

She didn't have time to ask as he smirked tiredly, turning away to look at McG.

"Wh'n can I g't out o' here?"

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

After a long, exhausting week, they were finally home. Adam had recovered nicely, and they were eventually cleared to catch a flight back to their own base.

Finally. Home.

With his newfound freedom, Adam was up and around a lot more than in the hospital, but he tired easily and tried to hide it behind well-placed stretches of sitting.

Jaz watched him with careful eyes, noticing every small wince. While she felt like Adam truly didn't hold anything against them, she still wondered: Why?

How did a person let something like that go so easily? How did he still trust them completely?

Every laugh was real. Ever smile was genuine. He wasn't the least bit dampened by what happened. He didn't flinch. Never.

In the hospital, she'd thought it was just because he might not remember it all correctly. But no, he did. He remembered every detail. He recounted the story with careful clarity. And he was unsurprised, if maybe a little relieved, that Patricia had filled them in on his reasoning.

Jaz just had to know why.

She didn't get a chance to ask in the hospital. The team was always there, and it wasn't something she wanted to discuss publicly. So she just had a find a moment now that they were all at home.

After a couple of days, she finally found her opportunity. Amir and McG had gone to town to pick up some things, and Preach had left to find a quiet space to talk to his family.

And Adam was alone on the couch, looking over some files.

Without hesitation, she quickly slipped into the seat on the opposite end. Adam turned just a little to look at a page and jumped, not noticing her there, reaching for his side with a low, pained groan.

"Seriously, quit sneaking up on me like that."

"Can't help that you're losing your touch," she teased, grinning widely. He chuckled quietly, reorganizing the papers in the file. She watched him for a minute, noticing the way his mouth seemed to deep down in pain every now and then.

She decided to switch gears.

"So . . . what happened on the mission," she began.

He immediately shot her an exasperated look. "Jaz, I already told you—"

"No, I just—"

"—you don't have to worry about it—"

"—I just want to know—"

"—it's in the past, and—"

"I just want to know why!" she shouted firmly, desperate to be heard over his peeved reassurance. "I just want to know . . . why you'd forgive us so easily for not being there when we should have. I mean, you always tell us we should have each other's backs. And we do. Just not . . . just not then."

He stared at her, his face pinched in something of pitying concern. He looked away only to carefully put the papers back into the folder and set them aside. Then those blue eyes were back to hers.

"What do you mean, forgive?" he asked. The mood in the room had changed. It was heavier. Louder, somehow.

"I mean, I called you heartless. And then I walked out," she said quickly, frowning. "I don't know if McG and Amir would've walked out on their own, but they sure as hell followed me out. We didn't give you the benefit of the doubt. We just . . . left you there."

He watched her seriously but didn't speak, as if urging her to go on.

"Look, we know you had your comm and camera off because you were . . . probably upset. And because all that happened, you had to deal with those guys alone, and you could've died, and—"

"Jaz," Adam said softly, stopping her in her tracks. "You had every right and reason to walk out. I pretty much expected it."
Jaz just stared at him, trying to process the information.

"I knew the discussion wouldn't go well. I knew you'd all be upset," he explained smoothly. "Sure, it didn't make it any less difficult, so yeah, I wanted some time to myself to get my head back in the game. And when those guys came in and I got thrown into that situation, I wasn't thinking about how you left me. That didn't even occur to me. I was mostly just committed to keeping those guys in that building. To preserve the mission and keep you all safe."

She continued to gawk at him, internalizing every word.

"I can forgive so easily, as you put it, because there was nothing to forgive." He stopped, crossing his leg with some difficulty as it pulled at his side. But finally, he managed it, and he settled back into the comfortable quiet, staring at the floor. "When I got to that door and I didn't think I was going to make it, I wasn't thinking about how you all left or how I was alone. The only thing I was worried about is that I'd go out having let you all down—and I just hoped Patricia would explain so you didn't have to sit there thinking I'd really be that cruel." Adam paused, looking somewhat pensive. "And when I saw you all there at the hospital, I knew I had nothing to worry about."

He looked back at her, his usual warm confidence in his gaze.

"So to answer your question of why: you never wronged me, so there was nothing to forgive."

For a minute, Jaz just stared at him, and he stared back. She absorbed every word, picking each apart.

Adam was unlike any CO she'd ever had. He didn't put up with any bullshit, but he also graciously allowed a wide breadth of human emotions. He let them be upset. When they struggled, he simply offered a supportive ear. He didn't force them to tamp down their emotions unless it got in the way of their work.

He let them be people.

And he never held it against them, even when most would.

"Damn it, Top, why do have to be so damn decent," she mumbled, looking away.

Adam scoffed, picking up the folder again. "Decent? I think you have me confused with somebody else."

Jaz shook her head, a wide smile on her face.

He was too good.

She just had to remember that.

Fin.