Author's note: First of all, thanks for your kindness in the reviews! It is heartwarming to receive such nice support. Second, I admittedly had a really hard time with this story. I don't know what it was, but my brain was a-struuuugglin'. Took me a few days to even get the idea right, so may it be entertaining! You're all wonderful always. Bless.
9. For the Greater Good ("Take Me Instead" | "Run!" | Ritual Sacrifice)
Once again, they were on the run through the winding city streets and alleyways, escaping from the newest threat as they ran with an encrypted laptop from an attacked CIA office.
Their pursuers were far too close, and there were way too many of them to take them on. Plus, the last thing the townspeople needed was a shootout on their home streets.
Amir cursed quietly as they came on a tall brick wall at the end of the alleyway. It was too tall to jump over on their own, and they didn't have much time to spare.
"Quick, climb up," Adam ordered, getting in position to boost someone over the wall. McG quickly took the opportunity as one of the tallest on the team, hopping to the top of the wall and balancing on the wide ridge at the top to pull up his other teammates.
Jaz went next, stepping on Adam's clasped hands for a quick boost to McG's waiting fingers. In seconds, she was pulled to the top, taking the same position as McG to help pull up teammates. Preach went next since he was closest.
And then it was Amir's turn. Looking worriedly at Adam, he took advantage of the boost, his hands gripped in McG's and Jaz's as they pulled him to safety.
Then their pursuers were rounding the corner. And Adam's expression wasn't surprised or urgent. It was . . . accepting.
Like he knew.
"Come on, Top," Jaz urged, reaching her hand down as far as it would go without her falling off.
A gunshot echoed in the alleyway, a hot bullet burrowing into the brick.
"No, there's no time," Adam huffed. "Just go." The enemy group was quickly closing the gap, only yards away.
Jaz tried to reach further. But they could all see it wouldn't be enough. Even if Adam jumped to reach it, they couldn't pull him over the wall before their pursuers got to him. Before they pulled him down again.
"Run!" Adam ordered. Firmly. Decidedly.
"We have to go," McG seconded, gripping Jaz's arm tightly.
"No!" Jaz shrieked, stretching her hand. "No!"
Amir had already jumped down, watching his teammates anxiously from the ground. Preach and McG took hold of Jaz, practically wrestling her away from the wall, and the ex-spy tensely waited to see if he had to catch her.
With horror, she watched their pursuers grabbing at Adam, roughly pulling him back as another man pistol-whipped Adam's face, sending the blond sprawling to the dirty asphalt. McG and Preach's efforts doubled.
And they finally pried her from the wall, forcing her to jump down to the other side.
Surprisingly, she landed on her feet, vaguely hearing her teammates landing on either side of her.
But Adam was still on the other side.
Left in the hands of their enemies.
He'd bought them time.
"We have to go back," she said urgently, already turning toward the wall.
"No," Preach answered, his low voice rippling quietly but dangerously through the air. "He bought us time for a reason."
Jaz angrily twisted to regard him, but stopped when she saw the quiet, pained shine in his eyes.
"I know you want to. But we can't," Preach continued, his voice growing more ragged with every word. "We deliver the laptop and complete the objective."
She still stared at that moist shimmer in Preach's eyes, even as the angry shouts and telltale thuds of hard kicks floated over the wall. "Okay," she whispered, her heart sinking.
"Let's go," Preach urged, turning away. Jaz could only watch his back, blinking wetness from her own eyes.
She had to follow.
But she couldn't help but spare a glance at the wall behind her. The one that hid the best CO she'd ever had. The only one that treated her like everyone else.
A pained cry echoed over the wall.
-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-
Adam lay on the gritty ground, his ears ringing as a wild, pulsing pain rushed through his head in waves. He could feel a sticky wetness drifting across his forehead, and even through the disorienting, blurry watercolors of his vision, he could see several men standing over him. Someone grabbed his rifle. His pistol. A finger dug into his ear to take his comm. He could feel the unmistakable pressure of a boot, pushing against the back of his shoulder.
Everything tilted violently, and something struck his back, pain exploding across his ribs. Then something struck his stomach, knocking all the air out of him and forcing him to curl into himself.
Another strike. And another.
And then they were raining down, punching into his flesh at every angle.
But he didn't like being backed into a corner.
Angry, he lashed out, grabbing anything he could get his hands on. An ankle. And he pulled viciously.
His target fell clumsily to the asphalt, and another man stomped on Adam's outstretched arm, forcing an agonized yell from his lungs. The kicks doubled, stronger than before. Angrier.
There was a call from somewhere outside the group, and the kicks stopped, booted feet shuffling back into a neat circle. Someone hooked their hands under Adam's arms, tugging him up off the floor. Everything was spinning, and his stomach twisted and turned. He knees buckled some, and the mysterious hands gripped his biceps with a bruising force to keep him up.
Adam closed his eyes, willing the world to still just for a moment. Then someone grabbed his hair, and his eyes snapped open.
The blurry figure growled something menacing, but Adam could only gather enough concentration to pick up a few words. Friends. Laptop. Kill.
Adam frowned at the last one, squinting to try and clear his head, but it didn't work.
The man continued, then stopped, tugging harder on Adam's hair. Frustrated, the man gave up, releasing Adam with a furious shove. There were shouted commands, and Adam was roughly pushed through the crowd. He did his best to walk on his own but stumbled as his head throbbed and spun.
All that mattered was that the team had gotten away.
And he clung to that thought with an indignant determination.
-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-
"We have the laptop, but our original plan was to head back to base and hand it off there," Preach muttered into his comm, looking sympathetically at his morose, impatient teammates. They were laying low in an empty business building, gathered in a dusty, blank office while Preach talked to the deputy director.
Normally, that would be Adam's job. But with him gone, Preach had to take his place. The larger man had no problem temporarily taking command when necessary. Just not in situations like this.
Preach turned back around, facing away from the team before walking further down the hall to get away from them. Out of earshot.
"What do you want to do?"
Patricia was quiet on the other side, thinking carefully.
"I can set up a meetup. Have you drop off the laptop securely." She paused, breathing deeply. "Then we track down our man."
Preach couldn't help the small, relieved smile, though it did little to wear away his tired concern for his CO. His friend.
"For now, hang tight. We'll send details along when we have them," Patricia explained tersely.
With a quick goodbye, they disconnected, and Preach found his way back to his teammates.
"So?" Amir asked calmly, trying to cover up the silent fire behind his eyes.
Preach leaned against an empty desk, folding his arms. "We've been retasked. We drop off the laptop to someone else, then we find Top."
-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-
Adam tried to focus on what was happening around him. All he could really understand was that he was restrained in a chair, his arms wrenched back and secured with a zip tie. The boss was in his face, shouting again. He was bellowing about the laptop, and even through Adam's blurry vision, he could see the man's reddening face.
Clearly, it was a very valuable laptop.
By now, the team had to have hidden away. And all Adam had managed to say was that he had no idea where the laptop was. Which was true. He could make some educated guesses, but he didn't actually know where.
So it wasn't really a lie.
But his answer had only started the man on a louder tirade, which hurt Adam's head even more as he winced against the increasing noise. The pistol whip to the face had hit him square in the forehead, and while he was grateful that his nose and cheekbones had been spared the excruciating blow, his brain felt differently.
And it was getting harder and harder to focus.
Even with an almost manic man yelling right in front of him, he couldn't seem to grab ahold of anything long enough to get a grasp of his surroundings. He didn't know where he was. Didn't know how far it was from where he'd separated from the team.
And he felt so sick. He was putting all his focus into breathing deeply. Evenly. Trying to tamp down the nausea that was churning dangerously in his belly.
Unexpectedly, the man stopped shouting, instead giving way to another man's muttering. The leader replied quietly but angrily.
And then they were walking away. Out the door. Shutting it behind them.
Left alone, Adam could only struggle with the sick feeling in his gut, doing everything he could think of, from breathing steadily to closing his eyes against the spinning and blurring.
But it was no use.
He managed to lean to his side just in time to empty everything in his stomach, his head throbbing as he uselessly pulled against his restraints.
When he was finished, was he spent. Dizzier. He slouched in his seat, his shoulders burning as the motion pulled at his arms.
It could've been worse. He just had to keep telling himself that.
Adam wrinkled his nose against the sour scent of his own sick, feeling miserable. But his mind was starting to give in to the weary battering, and his vision began to burn at the edges.
He fell into darkness without being able to stop it.
-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-
The handoff had been smooth and simple. Patricia had actually arranged for the receivers to come to their temporary hideout, giving the team more time to plan out Adam's rescue. Patricia had even arranged for them to bring a vehicle the team could use. And as soon as the laptop was in secure hands, DC systematically told them everything they knew.
Hannah listed off potential hideouts while Noah spoke to which he thought Adam had been taken to. Preach and the team sifted through the information, using their own knowledge on the ground to narrow down the choices.
Thankfully, their enemy was fairly predictable.
Between the whole lot of them, they found the most probable location. A particularly dirty little place on the edge of the city, furthest from prying eyes and ears. It was a perfect place to take a prisoner for uninterrupted interrogation.
They reviewed the blueprints on Preach's laptop, scouting out the best passages and memorizing the floorplan. They discussed potential dangers, escapes, ideas. They planned with a sharp efficiency, eager to get Adam back to safety.
But through it all, they couldn't keep away the breathless, terrifying fear for their CO. How long did he have? What was he going through? The questions sat heavily in their minds as they put every piece in place.
And once they had something of a plan, they packed quickly and prepped with precision.
They were out the door, heading toward the suspected hideout with only one goal in mind.
Get Adam.
As they settled in the small, beat-up SUV, a solemn attitude fell over them. They were afraid of how they'd find Adam. Most likely, he was still alive. But there was still a sobering chance that he wasn't.
Jaz twisted her head to look out the window of the passenger seat, hoping to reroute her thoughts with the passing scenery. In the back, Amir and McG went over plans quietly together, if only to fill the silence and distract their minds.
And in the driver's seat, Preach stared ahead with an admirable focus. He was determined. And he faced the possibilities with a brave face. Like the others, he hoped Adam was still alive. He prayed he was still alive. But if Adam didn't make it, Preach still had a duty to bring Adam home.
He wouldn't let Adam's sisters bury an empty box.
-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-
Adam awoke to harsh slapping to his face, jolting awake as the aches and pains assaulted him in every muscle. The yelling man was back, continuing his rant about the laptop, but Adam was too focused on the absolute pain in his head and the disconcerting blurriness to his vision.
For a minute, he couldn't remember where he was, and then it came back to him in bits and pieces before getting lost again in the swirling chaos of . . . everything.
Unexpectedly, a fist plowed into his cheekbone, snapping his head to one side as his headache tripled in painful waves. He felt sick again, the nausea like a burning, wretched heat in his stomach. Everything was just generally confusing. He wasn't entirely sure which way was up, and it was harder to remember why he was here and what this man wanted from him.
There was another strike to his face, and his vision blackened for a moment as the throbbing only got worse.
The pain pressed in from all sides, unrelenting and loud.
Then there were gunshots, slicing through the already chaotic cacophony of noises, nearly splitting his aching brain. The yelling man had stopped suddenly, and new sounds invaded the room. Quick footsteps, low voices . . . but it all sounded muffled against the excessive headache in Adam's skull.
Hands were on him, and he flinched away, not sure who they belonged to. But they persisted, holding onto him with a sort of protective firmness, and he wondered if he knew them. If he could trust them.
And he tiredly relented.
His hands were released from behind his back, and someone was touching his face, inspecting his forehead, probing the tender flesh there. He grimaced, biting back a groan.
But then there were lights in his eyes, and he couldn't hold the nausea anymore.
He ripped away from the hands to lean back over the side, his body expelling everything in his stomach until all that was left were dry heaves. It was all too much. Too confusing. Too much stimuli.
He closed his eyes, breathing deeply, trying to get some grasp of what was going on.
But then those hands were grabbing him again and he was being pulled up from his chair and led away. They steered him in a strange zigzag through the room, and he stumbled and shuffled, feeling unsteady and dizzy.
He wanted to sit down again, but something told him he couldn't. So he just kept walking—or at least trying to—his hand pressed lightly to his head as he tried to suppress all the discomfort. Failing painfully.
There just seemed to be so many hands on him, guiding him, holding him upright . . . he again wondered who they belonged to, but it hurt too much to try and remember. So he gave up and just let them lead him away.
He was pushed into some kind of vehicle, a warm body sidling up to him on either side. He slouched in his seat, relieved to be sitting.
Adam didn't even mind the hands poking at his bruised forehead.
-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-
"Damn, this looks like a nasty hit," McG muttered as Adam wearily let him, even in the jiggling movement of the SUV. The blond had yet to say anything, and his eyes were closed more often than they were open, but he was still conscious. "Top, can you hear me, buddy?"
Adam seemed to be lost in a disorienting blur, slumped in his seat with his face pinched in exhausted pain.
"Is it bad?" Amir asked from Adam's other side, frowning.
McG grimaced as he considered the question. "I mean, depends on what you mean by 'bad.' Looks like a serious concussion, which I can treat and keep an eye on. But for Top . . . it's gonna suck."
Preach let out a huff. "Just glad to have him back."
"Agreed," Jaz grumbled.
But even though Adam was safely tucked away in the backseat, they couldn't seem to extinguish the lingering anxiety of all the what ifs. What if they hadn't found him right away? What if his captors were a little less patient?
And they knew the questions would haunt them for days. Weeks.
It was hard enough seeing Adam so out of sorts that he couldn't even an utter a word. None of them could keep their eyes off Adam for long, as if convincing themselves that Adam really was there. Even Preach periodically looked in the rearview mirror just to be sure.
And the blond just seemed to fade further as they traveled along, lying with his head back as McG gently cleaned his head injury. While they were relieved Adam hadn't sustained a life-threatening head injury, they still couldn't help but worry as they watched him fade in and out of even a shallow awareness.
Once they made it back to the hideout, an uneasy mood fell over the car, dreading the walk up the stairs back to the empty office.
"Alright, Top, up and at 'em," McG urged. "We're just going to walk upstairs and get a better look at you, okay?"
McG started pulling Adam out of the car, trying to be firm but careful. Adam appeared confused by the movement, but he went with it anyway, clumsily sidling along to get out. Amir was quick to slide out of his seat, jogging around to get in position to help.
And while the short path to the building wasn't easy, the hike up the staircase was excruciating. Adam wasn't even in a state of mind to walk, let alone step up a couple flights of stairs. He flinched away from any noise and light, and he had trouble keeping balanced enough to hike up the steps.
They had never been so happy to reach the third floor, smoothly slipping Adam into the empty office with careful, quiet movements. Immediately, the team steered him toward the back rooms, which were darker and quieter, and Amir helped McG get Adam settled with a loosely rolled pullover as his pillow. Once Adam was comfortably positioned, McG gave Adam a quick onceover, frowning more and more at every purpling bruise across Adam's torso and arms. There was nothing particularly dangerous to Adam's health. But McG couldn't stop his anger from flaring at every sign of abuse.
Reluctantly convinced Adam was taken care of, McG left his CO to get some rest, unsurprised when Adam easily slipped into a weary slumber.
"How is he?" Preach asked when McG emerged, looking tired.
The medic leaned against the wall, folding his arms as he sighed. "I mean, he hasn't really said anything, but it's obvious his head's bothering him. He's exhausted. He took a pretty decent beating to the face, and it looks like he got kicked around a lot. But honestly, he came out of all this pretty lucky. I figure we'll let him rest a while, then I'll check on him to see if he improves."
"What do you think about travel?" Preach asked with a huff, the question hesitant.
"I don't know if I'd recommend flying. With this bad of a concussion? It'd be pretty sucky for him," McG replied, wincing some. "Honestly, I would say, let's let him recover for a day, then consider if he can travel. We might have to ditch the air travel and go with an old-fashioned road trip."
Preach nodded slowly, rubbing at his chin. "Alright, then we wait."
-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-
Adam opened his eyes to slits staring into a dark room. Damn, his head hurt. But from the little he could remember, everything seemed to have calmed down much more. The images were sharper now, and the sounds weren't quite so disorienting and painful.
He could even hear quiet, subdued laughter a couple rooms away. Laughter he knew. Recognized.
Adam released a weary sigh. He'd been rescued. His team had come back for him.
Compared to the chair he'd been tied to, it felt nice to lie on the floor, even though the ground beneath was hard and unforgiving. But the stability was a pleasant change for his hurting head. Honestly, he could easily lie here for another few hours.
Then he heard another hampered peal of laughter. And he felt that ever-burning desire to check in on his team. To see for himself that they were whole and unharmed.
With some difficulty, he sat up, sitting for a second to let the spinning still and the bodily pain settle. It was much better than before. All he remembered from earlier was a blur of colors and muffled sounds. And pain. Lots of pain.
There was still constant throbbing in his skull, and sound and light still seemed to hammer against his mind with a painful knock. But it was much, much better than before.
Taking a deep breath, he hauled himself to his feet, gritting his teeth against his sore and bruised body. With a careful effort, he unsteadily made his way to the hallway before setting a steadying hand on the wall. Slowly and steadily, he walked down the hall, finally making it to the main room where the team chatted. The room was fairly bright, lit by the sunset just out the windows, and he squinted against the sunlight as he hung back in the shadows.
It didn't take long for the team to notice him. Or his immediate aversion to light.
Amir rushed to the windows to drop down the blinds, Jaz catching on and doing the same on other windows. McG quickly moved toward Adam while Preach hovered close by to provide any needed support.
"Hey, man. How're you feeling?" McG asked quietly, mindful of Adam's sound sensitivity.
"Like shit," Adam croaked, grimacing heavily. When the room was much dimmer, he stepped further into the room. McG stuck close, body tense as he supervised Adam's stiff and pained movement.
"Surprised you're up," Preach remarked, also tracking Adam's path with worried eyes. Adam eventually found the desk on one side of the room, slowly getting himself up on the surface and sliding back into place.
"I just wanted to come in and check on you guys," Adam muttered, closing his eyes momentarily.
"Feeling sick?" McG asked anxiously.
Adam considered that thought for a moment, then shook his head carefully. "Not enough to need anything."
"You look like hell," Jaz sighed, folding her arms. "You should probably still be lying down."
"I'll get back to it in a minute," he promised, opening his eyes again, to look at the team. They looked fine. Unharmed.
That's all he'd wanted in all this.
"Just wanted to check in," he said again, absently touching the gauze around his head as he gave his eyes another rest. He was so incredibly tired.
McG stood tall, taking a deep breath. "So you sacrificed yourself to help us get away, endured a few hours of captivity with a bad concussion, and you just want to . . . check in?"
Adam frowned. "That's what I said, didn't I?"
"Shit, Top, you're the only one who can make that sound like it's not even a big deal," McG continued, still trying to keep his voice low. "You can't even keep your eyes open long enough to look at us."
Adam forced his eyes open again, as if to prove a point.
The medic sighed. "To be honest, we were scared shitless."
Adam looked to McG, surprised to see that serious look of angry fear on the medic's face. The man normally hid behind a light smile and a quick joke. He was good at brushing the darker things under a rug of avoidance.
A silence settled over them, fragile and tense.
"I mean, it's one thing when a teammate slips out of your grasp," Preach muttered, eyes glancing to Jaz before going back to Adam. "It's another when you're forced to abandon them entirely."
A weighty burden of guilt dropped solidly on Adam's shoulders. With just a moment to think, as painful as it was, he could imagine how he'd feel if he'd been actively forced to leave Jaz to her abductors in Tehran—rather than fail in her hasty rescue.
The very idea felt so much worse.
And of course, he hadn't thought about that when he'd left his team on that wall. He'd only thought about how they were safe. Out of harm's way.
"I mean if you want to know how we're doing," McG chimed in, "we're tired, we're worried, and we're still trying to deal with the fact that you threw yourself at the enemy and then went missing for a few hours."
Adam was quiet for a minute, allowing it to sink in. It was hard to process much of anything through his hammering headache, but he gave it time like it deserved.
"You're right. I'm sorry," he croaked, a silent apology nestling in his posture. "I approached it too lightly."
The mood in the room changed, shifting from a sharp hurt to a quiet, healing satisfaction. Slowly, it faded into sympathy.
"Well, if you really want to make it up to us, then quit hobbling around when you should be resting," McG huffed, his tone steadily growing lighter. "And stop sacrificing yourself. That is never going to go down well with us."
Adam smirked a little, nodding gently to avoid jostling his aching head to much.
"You got it," he whispered.
Adam felt rather than saw McG move in closer, and a warm hand rested on his shoulder. Trying to focus, he looked up to McG, catching the other man's unusually vulnerable gaze. Something he rarely saw.
"Glad your still here," McG muttered, giving Adam's shoulder a gentle squeeze. "Just . . . don't scare us like that again."
Something about the last statement held an indescribable weight. It was so quietly powerful, it was practically branded into Adam's brain. It spoke of grace, fear, and utmost care, and Adam could immediately feel the depth behind McG's words. That he truly mattered to the team more than he even realized.
And all his own feelings were confirmed. These were his people.
His family.
Fin.