Author's Note: Hello, hello. Here is the next chapter! I hope the wait wasn't too painful—Labor Day weekend ended up busier than I thought it'd be. You're all amazing and wonderful, and please enjoy this next installment. As always, thank you so much for stopping by (and thanks to those that took the time to leave such positive, kind reviews).


Chapter Two

There was metal stuck in Adam like a pin. A big, twisted pin. Right into his gut.

How had she missed it for this long?

"My leg is fine. You need help first," she said decidedly, trying desperately to push the aches away to narrow her focus. He shook his head, suddenly looking very tired. She'd seen that look before. When the shit hit the fan. In Tehran. In Nigeria. Paris. Ukraine. Might as well be all the time.

"No, we're wrapping your leg first."

Without a word, she inspected the rest of him, quickly finding tears in the legs of his pants, splattered with blood. And by the way he was breathing, he had to have bruised or cracked ribs.

What if he had internal bleeding?

Damn, she wished they had at least one comm between the two of them. If only to see where the rest of the team was.

She leaned a little to get a better look at his wound, seeing the shrapnel sticking out the back. Through and through. She swallowed thickly. "That doesn't look pretty."

He let out a sigh before ripping open packs of bandaging. She didn't miss the hard wince that passed over his face. Nor did she miss how he had to pause for a moment to collect himself. She could tell he was trying not to think about it. To not acknowledge it. Even while he worked around it.

"Look," he huffed, swiftly covering up his own discomfort. His voice was tight, and her sympathy doubled. "Compared to your leg and head, this thing's hardly bleeding. We prioritize by blood loss. And without McG here, we can't do much about the shrapnel anyway. So we're going to wrap that leg, bandage your head, and that's what we're going to do."

Jaz raised her eyebrows as she pursed her lips. Even with twisted metal in his gut and who knows what else, Adam sounded like the leader he's always been. He was using his stern CO voice, though it was weaker than usual, and that left only one thing for her to do: obey.

"You got it, Top," she answered quietly. She wanted to argue, but she knew there was no point. Adam had set his mind to this, and there was no stopping him now.

Jaz watched Adam prep the bandaging, gritting her teeth through waves of pain while breathing slowly. Eager to push past the ache, her eyes followed his bruised and bloodied fingers. By the way he was moving them, she could tell they were in bad shape. And yet, he was determined to take care of his people. To take care of her.

If it had been any other man on any other team, she would've refused. Because they'd do it out of pity. They'd do it because they thought she was weaker. More fragile. A delicate flower of a woman.

But Adam, any of the guys . . . they did it because she was their teammate. Their friend. Their family. She knew how much they respected her and valued her. In their eyes, she wasn't lesser or weaker.

And she had the funny feeling that if they had thought that, Adam wouldn't have chosen them for his team.

Jaz let out a tight growl as Adam pressed fresh gauze against her leg injury, carefully wrapping it snuggly against her skin. He was focused and careful, as with every task he undertook.

And as he finished up the bandaging, he paused, blinking. He touched his ear then turned to her. "Do you have a comm?"

With a heavy breath, she shook her head. She felt sweaty. Pain did stupid things. "Got knocked out when I fell, I think," she answered breathlessly, squeezing her eyes tightly to chase away the stabbing leg pain and the growing headache. "I took yours while you were still out, but it wasn't working." She grimaced apologetically. "I kind of threw it away out of frustration."

Adam's head dropped as he nodded quietly. "Okay, well . . . first things first." He looked up at her. "Let's take care of that head injury, huh? You look like a horror film."

Jaz smirked. "Can't be worse than that time in rural Ukraine."

A weary grin stretched across his face, mixing with creases of pain as white teeth stood out against dust and blood. "I wouldn't say it isn't."

The throb in her head quieted a little as she laughed. Getting hurt in the field generally sucked. She ached all over, and she wasn't going to be moving her leg again anytime soon. At least, not if she didn't have to. But fortunately, this time, she wasn't here alone.

As he was gently placing the bandage over her eyebrow, Adam stopped, settling a hand against his injured side as he took a few careful breaths.

"What's up?" she asked, instantly on high alert.

His answer was quick. Well-practiced. "It's nothing." Glossing over the moment, he continued taping gauze to her forehead, hiding away his pain. Both of them had high pain thresholds. You had to for this job. Pain sometimes got in the way, so ignoring it was often the only way to get things done.

But Adam was a man of a different kind. If any part of his team was in trouble, he would find superhuman strength to fight injury and discomfort to take care of things. It was both remarkable and insanely frustrating.

Yet Jaz was convinced it was more of a mask than a state of mind. He had to be feeling the pain. By the way his fingers moved. By the way he breathed. By the way he stiffly shifted his body . . . He felt it. She could tell. But he was good at putting on a strong front. He was excellent at pretending he was unbothered. That same skill came in handy numerous times when the rest of the team was, frankly, being annoying.

Or sometimes in her case, rebellious.

Her eyes fell to his bloody side. It seemed redder now, with a wider bloodstain.

"You got my leg and my head. Can we do something about your side now?"

He sighed, looking down at it. There was that tired look again. Though this time, it was accentuated by his paling face. Either he was losing quite a bit of blood somewhere or the pain was starting to get to him.

"It went all the way through," she reported smoothly. "But let's at least secure it so you don't rip the damn hole wider."

Adam let out a breathy chuckle. "Gee, your bedside manner's gotta be the best I've ever seen."

"Hey," she laughed, digging out a few of her own packets of gauze. "I've got to be direct to get through that thick skull of yours."

"You're going to make me blush with all this flattery," he countered, his hand settling on his chest again as he drew in a few breaths.

Jaz hid her newfound worry behind a smirk. "Well, be a dear and sit still, will you?"

He simply nodded, swaying a little.

"You okay, Top?"

Another nod. "Fine. I'm fine."

"'Cause it's just you and me out here. You have to tell me if something's wrong," she explained patiently, hurriedly tearing open a couple packets of rolled gauze. It was her turn to ignore the steady, angry throb in her leg. It was dying down the longer she kept it motionless, but it was still tough to push through the pain and focus on Adam.

He was blinking slowly, still drawing in deeper breaths than normal.

"Struggling to breathe?" she asked casually, enduring a spike of agony as she shifted closer to him.

Adam shook his head a little. "Just . . . talking too much."

With practiced ease, she pressed some bandaging against the wound, careful to avoid jostling the shrapnel. Adam inhaled sharply, jerking a little. So he did feel it. And he was feeling it enough that his defenses were down.

Ignoring the soreness in her own torso, she moved quickly to secure the twisted metal in place, wrapping gauze around his abdomen. Being so far into his personal space, she couldn't help but focus on his slow, measured breaths. Like he was trying to get a handle on his condition to reprioritize. To put her first.

She thought about his push to her back. To extend himself like that near any explosion . . . it would expose his body to so many dangers. And with him behind her, he had to have taken the brunt of the impact.

Jaz forced herself to focus on the present—on securing the shrapnel. Nearly done, she glanced up at Adam's face, unsurprised to find him with his eyes closed, engrossed in drawing in oxygen.

If only they had a comm. Just one.

"Hey, don't pass out on me," she demanded, finishing up her handywork. "Don't really want to sit here in silence."

"Good point," he muttered, wincing a little.

She inspected the bandaging, somewhat satisfied with the result. She'd be more satisfied if they weren't out here. In the rubble. Relying on whatever gauze they had in their cargo pockets.

"How long do you think it will take them to get here?" she asked, gingerly sitting up straight.

Adam shook his head, opening his eyes to look up at the sky. "Preach said maybe fifteen minutes. But that was before the air strike. Might be more now."

With a smile, Jaz gently nudged Adam's shoulder. "If they go by foot, we might as well take a nap. Amir's little legs will hold everyone back."

The blond let out a chuckle, weary and low. "That poor, poor man." He stared out over the demolished town, squinting at the distance. "Well, maybe I can walk toward their general direction. Meet 'em halfway.

Jaz couldn't hide her horrified expression. "Please tell me you're joking."

"Look, we can't be sure if our GPS trackers are working, and who knows how much the blast has messed things up. I mean, I can't see the damn light on my equipment. Can you?"

She looked down. Nope. No light.

"And with your leg like that, you're not going anywhere."

"Oh, don't give me that," she snapped. "You've got some dirty metal sticking out of your gut and back. If you're getting up and walking, then so am I."

"Jaz, don't—"

"You won't convince me out of this one, Top. If you're going, I'm coming with. I don't care if my leg is broken, I'm not letting you walk out there by yourself."

"I'll be fine."

"Oh, yeah? Wanna tell me again how breathless and dizzy you were just a second ago?"

"Wasn't dizzy."

"If you're going to lie, Top, at least pick a lie that's harder to spot."

He stopped at that, staring at her with hard eyes. Steel met fire, and she was determined to turn up the heat.

"I come with you, or you don't go at all," she said dangerously. He kept his eyes on hers for a while, as if hoping she'd back down with a little intimidation.

But he knew her better than that.

With a sigh, he looked away. "Fine. But I don't like it."

"Didn't say you had to."

Adam peered out over the rubble again. "Anybody tell you you're stubborn?"

She smirked. "One of my best qualities."

He leveled a look at her, humor dancing in his eyes behind the fatigue. "Well, if we're going to do this, then let's get a move on."

After a few moments to collect himself, he moved to stand, having a little trouble with his chest and injured side. Jaz knew if she didn't get herself upright by the time he did, he'd try to help her stand.

And with his condition? She couldn't allow it.

Finding some leverage, she relied on her arms and one leg to get her up, keeping an eye on Adam all the while. Pushing herself, she managed to stand. But her headache quickly grew worse, and the world tilted a little. Across from her, it looked like Adam was having much of the same experience.

"You good?" he asked, still trying to find his post-explosion legs.

"Are you good?" she replied, her voice husky. Her vision was righting itself now, though her headache didn't really fade. Of course, her leg felt like it was on fire, but she wasn't about to give in.

"More or less," he answered hoarsely. A wince flashed across his face, and from the two experimental steps he took, she could see a slight limp.

"This would go faster if I had a crutch. And I have a feeling you could use one too," she stated smoothly, raising her eyebrows.

He sighed, quickly understanding. "Yeah, that might not be a bad idea."

After a few wobbly steps of her own, she managed to get an arm over his shoulders while he secured an arm around her waist. Then . . . they walked.

And it was slow.

And painful.

Jaz's leg practically burst with pain at every tiny step she took, and she could tell Adam was hurting from the way he moved. It felt like he was unsteady on his feet, but she couldn't be sure. Red was already seeping through the gauze in his side, and any visible bruising was just growing darker with the passing minutes.

Looking at her own leg, she could see the blood bleeding through the white bandaging. And her head . . . hell, her head. It felt like her brain was being jabbed by dull stakes.

It was clear they were in bad shape. But they were also too stubborn to admit they felt terrible.

Worried, she glanced at Adam. He was blinking a slow blink, and her panic ratcheted.

"You okay?" What if he did have some kind of internal bleed? What could she do?

She definitely felt his swaying now. She thought fast.

"Leg hurts. Let's sit." She knew she was being abrupt, but all she could think was that Adam was swaying, so he shouldn't be standing. And the best way to make the man do anything was to convince him he was doing it to help someone he cared about.

And it worked.

Slowly but steadily, the two of them sat down on sizable chunks of demolished building, Jaz's eyes never leaving those sluggish blinks.

"Top?" Worried, she set a hand on his shoulder. "Feeling okay?" She was starting to feel like a broken record, but she had to ask. With no one else out here, Adam was her priority. So she had to be sure he wasn't spiraling into a medical emergency.

"Yeah, just . . ." He slowly rubbed at his eyes. "Just tired all of a sudden."

She swallowed a scoff. All of a sudden? Yeah, right.

"I feel pretty good about sitting," she said, eyes already scanning the terrain for a Humvee or three familiar humans. No luck so far.

"Your leg hurt?" His voice was quiet. Worn. But his eyes were concerned and genuine.

"Probably not any more than your side does," she replied, eager to keep the attention off herself. Gingerly, she put a hand to her head, hoping the small gesture would take away some of the ache. Of course, it didn't.

Adam gave her a look. "I didn't ask about me. I asked about you."

She fought the urge to grimace. Typical Top.

"Yeah, it hurts. But it's fine," she answered reluctantly.

"How's your head?"

Jaz narrowed her eyes in a glare. He knew she hated it when he did this—mothering her. So why did he still ask? Probably couldn't help himself. "It's fine."

She could see the pained lines in his face, hard and deep. And still, he tried so hard to smooth them away. But if she didn't know him so well, he could've fooled her.

"How's your gut?" she asked quietly. Reverently. She never forgot how vulnerable Adam was. But some times were harder than others.

She didn't want to lose him. She wasn't ready for that.

Jaz took a closer look at him. Damn, he was starting to look paler and paler. Who gave a shit about her leg and head? One of the best people she'd ever known was sitting here with shrapnel in his belly and a litter of other injuries he'd never admit to. And out here—out here in forsaken lands of violence and hatred—anything could happen.

"It's okay," he answered tightly, attempting a smile. Somehow, he still managed that cheerful glitter in his eyes, but the curve to his lips didn't quite land.

He swayed slightly, his eyelids growing heavy. Suddenly frightened he'd collapse, she grabbed his bicep, clinging to it like a lifeline.

Startled by the movement, he looked at her, confused. "Jaz . . . I'm all right. I'm fine."

"How can I believe you?" she ground out, staring bravely into his foggy eyes. "You always say your fine. Always. And all I want is some honesty."

His eyes cleared a little as he searched her gaze. She could see it all in there. The guilt, the worry, the desperate desire to take her pain away.

"You say it automatically every time," she continued. "You're always fine. But you aren't, Top. You aren't. You have a piece of dirty debris through your gut and broken fingers and bruises and cracked ribs and cuts and—"

She stopped her heated tirade, angrily trying to blink back hot tears. When she spoke again, her voice was smoother. Calmer. Quieter. "You're starting to sway without knowing it. And the look in your eyes . . . sometimes you're not really here. And you don't even know it."

Adam simply stared at her for a moment, taking in the frustrated fear on her face as he let her words settle in his mind. Slowly, he turned his body toward her, wincing heavily against the movement. "Okay." He looked down at the ground. "You're right." His eyes found hers. "I don't feel . . . great. Frankly, I feel like I've been sandwiched between bits of building. And maybe things aren't looking too good. But I'm still here. And if I can help it, I'm not going anywhere."

She pursed her lips. "If you say so."

Adam nodded, looking at the ground again. "I think we both know I'd never willingly leave you here alone."

Jaz thought back to the fruit truck after her imprisonment in Tehran. She remembered Adam behind her, offering a silent presence of strength. Even without a word, he managed to make her feel safe. And at her core, she'd known how hard he fought to get her there. To get her home.

So yes, she knew he'd fight to stay here with her.

Her frown softened, but she kept her lips in a tight line. "You better not leave me here alone."

He managed a warm smile, even through the dust and blood on his face. Then his gaze shifted, his eyes growing wide.

In an instant, he shot to his feet. And as he rushed past her, he shoved her aside.

Like they were in danger.