CHAPTER 32

"Rise and shine, buttercup!" Eli exclaimed obnoxiously, banging on the open door of the living room of his apartment. Miguel woke up with a start, and immediately almost cried out in pain. His head pounded like it was being clobbered by a drummer. His mouth was dry to the extent that he was struggling and choking for breath. As he tried to sit up, he immediately felt a wave of nausea hit him like a ton of bricks, and he then collapsed back onto the sofa he was lying on. Wait… sofa? Where the hell was he? It took Miguel several moments to realise he was at his best friend's house. How had he gotten here? What had happened last night? It took him several moments to remember his visit to the bar the night before, and remembering that caused him to think back to his breakup 24 hours earlier. A searing pain stabbed through his heart as he thought of Sam, and how their two year relationship had just ended. She was really gone, and wouldn't ever be coming back into his life.

Miguel groaned as he pulled himself out of his miserable train of thought. He was soooooooo hung over. He felt like he was going to throw up, pass out and suffocate all at the same time. He had drank more last night than he ever had before, and he was paying for it now.

Suddenly, a sickly green looking drink was shoved right under his nose, the vile stench of it wafting up his nostrils and causing him to gag.

"Here, drink this. Hangover cure." Eli grunted. Miguel reluctantly accepted the ghastly smelling, paste textured drink and took a sip. BIG mistake. As bad as it looked and smelled, it tasted much, much worse. Miguel gagged and nearly threw up, but didn't given that his stomach was completely empty after throwing up multiple times in his drunken state the night before.

"Urgh, what the hell is in this?!" Miguel grumbled, trying to push the drink away but Eli quickly forced it back into Miguel's hands.

"Drink it. Trust me, drink it all. It actually helps." Eli stated. Miguel closed his eyes and forced himself to ingest the entire beverage from hell, before turning to his friend.

"Well, that tasted like dog shit. What was actually in this?"

"It's a Moskowitz family hangover cure. 300 ml of Pickle juice, 25 blended Sour Patch Kids, a dash of Crest toothpaste… oh, and 5 blended fish sticks." Eli replied. Miguel really did throw up at this point, sprinting into the bathroom and retching out the bile and contents of his empty stomach. After he came back, he scowled daggers at Eli, who was laughing gleefully at him.

"Eli, if I wasn't so hung over, I would kill you right now." Miguel growled quietly.

"IS THAT SO?!" Eli shouted, knowing that Miguel's hangover was causing his voice to sound deafening. Miguel winced and put his hands over his ears.

"Fuck you, man." Miguel murmured, collapsing back onto the sofa and putting his head in his hands, trying to block out the intense pain he was feeling in his head. Eli sat on the armchair opposite him, and chuckled at his friend's pain and discomfort.

"Jeez, you look like crap. I hope you don't feel as bad as you look." Eli remarked. Miguel sighed.

"Mate… I feel much, much worse." Miguel grumbled in reply. "What even happened to me last night? How did I get here?"

Eli's eyes widened and his jaw dropped.

"Wait… you don't remember?" Eli asked, eagerly. Miguel slowly shook his head.

"I remember drinking, and then things go fuzzy. Then I remember drinking some more, and then things completely black out."

Eli chuckled and raised an eyebrow.

"Then I guess you don't remember going streaking fully naked up and down the side of the freeway?" Eli remarked. Miguel shot up, his head screaming in protest but Miguel ignoring the pain.

"I DID WHAT?!" Miguel bellowed. "Oh, my God! I can't believe I did that!"

After several moments of watching Miguel freak out, Eli interrupted his friend.

"Okay, fine, you didn't do that. I'm just playing with you." Eli laughed. Miguel's fear immediately dissipated, and he glared furiously at Eli.

"I hate you so much. You're a bad person, you know?" Miguel growled. Eli merely chuckled.

"Hey, take it easy! I was the one who carried your drunk ass home last night when you were too wasted to walk!" Eli replied. "Okay, you want to know what actually happened? Well…"

6 hours earlier…

"I'm quitting. I swear to God I'm quitting." Miguel mumbled to himself as he downed drink after drink after drink with no sign of stopping.

However, eventually, the bartender stopped serving Miguel more drinks. He had seen enough people in his 20 years as a bartender to know when someone has had enough to drink, and Miguel was well past the limit.

Miguel looked up from his feet and realised that he had no more shots in front of him. He then looked up at the bartender, who was a couple of meters away.

"Hey, um… another 4 shots please!" Miguel called to him, his eyes droopy and his head extremely heavy. The bartender sighed and walked over to him.

"Listen, sir, I, um… I'm really sorry but I think I'm going to have to cut you off for tonight. You seem pretty drunk, and you've got no one with you here to make sure you get home safely. But don't worry… I've called a cab for you and it should be here in about 5 minutes."

Miguel slowly stood up and stumbled over to the bartender, his level of intoxication making it impossible for him to walk straight and almost causing him to fall over several times before he finally made it over to the bartender.

"What did you just say? What did you do?" Miguel growled. The bartender, who wasn't too scared of Miguel despite the man's menacing tone and body language. After all, the man could barely stand up straight.

"Look, buddy. Calm down. I just called a cab. It'll be here soon and you can go home." The bartender repeated. Miguel relaxed a little. This bartender seemed to have good intentions. "Would you like me to call someone to try and help get you home safe? A friend? Wife? Girlfriend, perhaps?"

At the word girlfriend, Miguel's nostrils flared in anger again as images of Sam crashed through his mind. Miguel scowled at the bartender.

"Listen, 'buddy…'" Miguel snarled at the innocent bartender. "I am a Navy fucking SEAL! I've seen and done things that you wouldn't wish on your worst enemy, all so pricks like you have the freedom to deny me drinks. Now… unless you want to be drinking out of a straw for the rest of your life, I suggest you turn your ass around and go get me my 4 fucking shots!"

The bartender, who was rooted to the spot, was slightly unnerved at this point, and his nervousness quickly turned to fear as Miguel advanced towards him.

"Hey, man, I don't want any trouble, but I will call the cops if you come any closer!" The bartender stammered. Miguel rolled his eyes.

"Oh, you're going to call the cops, huh?" Miguel remarked, mockingly. "Well, tell them Miguel Diaz says fuck you."

With that, Miguel clenched his fists into balls and lunged at the bartender. However, he didn't get very far, as he completely missed his punch and the motion of swinging his arm at thin air caused him to trip over and fall into one of the tables in the center of the bar. Miguel fell against the table, going straight through the wooden surface and causing it to smash to pieces. Miguel, on the ground, gasped in pain and didn't get up. At that moment, he just wanted death or unconsciousness to swallow him up, whichever came first…

Present day…

"Yeah, from there, that bartender called the cops, and because you told the guy your name, he was able to give it to the police."

"Oh Christ. Please tell me I haven't been sued or arrested or whatever." Miguel groaned, his head in his hands in shame. Eli shook his head.

"Nah, you're lucky. The cop who responded to the scene is a buddy of mine, and he recognised your name. He was able to pull the PTSD card to prevent the bartender from pressing charges against you. The cop called me, and I came to the bar, where you were still unconscious. I, that's right, I paid the bartender for a table replacement after you fell through it, and then I brought you here."

Miguel slowly nodded and took a deep breath.

"Jesus. Thank God. That could have gone a lot worse." Miguel murmured.

"It could've gone a lot better too, man." Eli shot back. "What in God's name were you thinking, man? You drank yourself blind, threatened a bartender, actually tried to fight said bartender, did some property damage, all without calling anyone to help you! Since when do you do shit like that?!"

"What are you, my mom?" Miguel snapped. Eli sighed and rolled his eyes.

"Look, can I ask you something dude?" Eli asked.

"What?" Miguel mumbled.

"Why did this embassy fuckup mentally affect you so much?" Eli asked. Miguel's eyes widened and he raised an eyebrow at his friend.

"You really have to ask? I watched 40 Americans die at the hands of some of the most vile people Hell has to offer." Miguel spat. Eli shook his head.

"Look, I know, man. Trust me, I know. But this isn't the first time you've seen our men die right in front of you. We've gone on failed missions before. We've lost friends."

Eli's eyes trailed to the shelf in the corner of the room, where there lay a small framed photo of Eli, Miguel and Tyler. Miguel's eyes quickly followed his friends, and they lingered on the picture of their fallen friend. After silently mentally saluting their friend for several moments, Eli continued…

"We've seen sacrifice. We've seen death. All of these failed missions have torn us up inside, but you always seem to find a way to not spiral out of control. What makes this one so much worse?"

Miguel took a deep breath and looked down. When he looked back up, Eli was alarmed to realise that his friend had tears in his eyes.

"You really want to know?" Miguel sighed. "I watched numerous civilians - not soldiers, but innocent, desk-jockey civilians - get murdered while I hid in a corner and didn't do a damn thing about it."

"Miguel, you know damn well there's nothing you could've done." Eli snapped. Miguel nodded furiously.

"That's exactly it! There was nothing I could do to save them! The last time I felt that helpless was back in high school, when we would get our asses handed to us by Kyler and his dumbass friends. There was nothing I could have done to defend myself back then either. And I don't know… this mission, it just made all of those feelings come rushing back."

Eli immediately understood, and he slowly nodded.

"Wow, man. I get it." Eli murmured, unusually gently and sympathetically. "Are you… Are you sure going on this upcoming mission is a good idea? I'm sure Anderson would be willing to bench you for as long as you need to recover if you asked him. I can call him now if you want."

"NO!" Miguel suddenly exclaimed. As Eli looked at him, alarmed, Miguel took a deep breath and continued in a much quieter tone. "Please don't tell Anderson about this. Trust me, I'm okay. I'm healthy, my body and my mind. Last night was just a fluke. It won't happen again. Just please don't tell Anderson."

"Are you sure, man?" Eli asked, unsure. "It's not dishonorable or anything. You've done so much for the Navy already. You don't have any allegiance to them over your mental health."

"Yeah, I'm sure. Don't worry about me, dude. I'm fine." Miguel repeated, standing up. "Is it okay if I use your shower real quick?"

Eli nodded and Miguel walked out the room. Once Miguel was gone, Eli was left alone with his thoughts, and he waited until he could hear the shower running in the bathroom to take out his phone. Eli dialled a number, and the recipient answered almost immediately.

"Hello?" The man on the other side of the line said. Eli took a deep breath and closed his eyes. He knew he was massively betraying his best friend's trust by doing this, but he knew it was for the greater good. Miguel was not okay, no matter what he said. Eli had never seen Miguel so shaken up before. It was like every mission Miguel had been on had chipped away at his mental health slightly, and this embassy invasion had been the straw that broke the camel's back. Eli swallowed nervously as his mouth suddenly ran dry, but he forced himself to speak.

"Hey, Anderson. It's me. We need to talk about Miguel. I, um… I don't think he is fit to go on this mission…"