Firstly, apologies for taking so long to update. Life has been turned a little upside down, as I can imagine you all understand and are experiencing in your own ways. Lots of love to everyone - we might be from various corners of the world, but we're all in this together. Secondly, this chapter is short. I debated not posting it, but as I'm not sure when I'll be able to add the last bit, I figured I'd share this one now and then finish it off when I can. So there's one more chapter to go :) Thirdly, thank you so much to everyone who's left kind comments. A kind comment can be the difference between someone sharing a fic, and hitting the delete button. So please know I'm very grateful! And Fourthly, to the lovely guest who's left me comments along the way, kindly pointing out everything they dislike about this fic - thank you for letting me know that this is not a realistic scenario, I had no idea, and I've made a mental note to add an extra warning on any future stories that they are strictly for entertainment purposes only.

Thanks for reading, and take care everyone - of yourselves, families, and especially your elderly neighbours x

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Clay leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes as he swallowed his last sip of beer, a smile tugging at his lips. The sand was warm around his feet, the gentle ocean breeze kissing his skin, and the rhythmic splash and hiss of the small waves lapping at the shore lulled him nearly to sleep.

Cracking open an eye, he stared at the sparkling horizon. There wasn't a cloud in the sky, and the sun was beginning to dip towards the azure sea. It would be a beautiful sunset. He had no idea what time it was, but he was happy to sit here until well after the last light faded from the sky. The peace of his surroundings flowed through him with every breath, seeping deep into his bones.

He'd visited this beach many times, but this time, it felt different. This time he was ready to stay.

"I've missed you, man," he admitted quietly, glancing over at Brian.

His best friend sat to his left, also reclined in a beach chair. The darker haired man gave a soft smile, draining the last of his beer and leaning forward to wedge the empty bottle in the sand.

Clay stared into the water, watching the foam from the waves collect against the shore in thin, bubbling lines. His whole body felt tired, heavy, and well overdue for rest. He'd been fighting for so long, he'd forgotten what it felt like to truly relax.

Brian sat with elbows on knees, fingers intertwined. The sunlight glinted off his hair, his lashes. He wore his lucky shirt. He watched the waves for a while. Eventually he released a sigh, turning his gaze towards Clay. "I wish you could stay." Reluctance lined his tone.

Clay lifted a brow, confused. "I'm not going anywhere," he argued, digging his toes deeper into the sand.

But Brian shook his head gently. For a moment, sadness flickered across his features. "No," he countered. "It's not time for you to stay here."

Clay frowned. He had nowhere else to be. Why would he leave? A gull whirled overhead, and he traced its movements, watching it cartwheel, white against blue. He'd had enough of life. And, in a strange way, it felt like life had had enough of him. "The world will go on without me," he muttered, meaning every word.

Brian regarded him thoughtfully, chewing his lip. "You have people who need you," he countered eventually.

But Clay disagreed. He had no family. And his team mates, his brothers, would go on without him. They would find another Bravo Six. His memory would fade, and life would continue. "I'm done," he admitted.

"You know," Brian said, eyes flicking to the ocean. "You might feel that way, but it's not always about you."

Clay leaned back in his chair, flexing his toes against the sand. He felt the edges of his safe-haven crumble slightly at Brian's words. It didn't feel good, and he fought against the sensation.

"Life can be pretty shit, sometimes," Brian reflected.

Clay mumbled his agreement.

"But you have some good people around you," Brian stated. "Sonny, Jason, the rest of your team – they'll be there for you."

Clay felt a pang at the thought of his brothers. He tried to bat it away. He loved them, and he was so grateful for having had them in his life. But, it really was time to let them go.

"They need you," Brian said gently. "Just like I needed you."

Clay refused to meet his best friend's gaze, though he could feel it upon him. He pushed the words away. "They don't need me," he argued.

But Brian stood firm. "Yes, they do."

Clay huffed.

"It's not time for you to leave them," Brian pushed. "Not now. Not like this. Your fight's not over."

Clay frowned. For a moment, Brian's voice changed, didn't quite fit. Clay's gaze finally swung around and locked on his friend.

Brian was fading. He urged again, "You need to fight, Clay."

Clay felt his heart skip a beat. Brian's lips were moving, but the voice was wrong. It sounded far away; a lot less like Brian, and a lot more like Jason. Clay clutched at the arms of his chair, dug his feet into the sand. "No," he breathed, clinging to this reality.

But Brian was nearly gone.

"No!" Clay cried, louder this time, thoughts frantic. He didn't want to leave.

The small waves lapping on the beach grew more intense, until they were suddenly licking at his feet.

"Don't make me go back," Clay pleaded. Though he had no idea who he was pleading to. "I'm tired."

But Brian had vanished. And the sea grew darker, louder, and closer.

Clay pushed up from his chair and tried to run, but his feet stuck firm in the sand. The water caught him, and he was roughly dragged down and under.

Before he knew it, he was spiraling, disoriented. Everything hurt. And he was falling – away from his peaceful beach, away from his safe place.

No – He thought frantically, scrambling to get a grip on something, anything, to tether him to this gentle world.

No!

But it was too late, and with a sudden jolt and a gasp, Clay was thrust back into his broken body.

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Sonny watched the second hand of the clock drift silently past the seven. How many laps had he watched it go, around and around, minutes ticking by until they became hours?

It had been three hours, forty-six minutes and thirty-five seconds since Clay had died on that damned bathroom floor. Well, he'd technically died.

Their boy had been whisked away, EMTs madly working on him and Trent rushing alongside, as they'd struggled to revive him – and keep him that way.

Now, Bravo waited, pale-faced and glassy eyed in the hospital's emergency waiting room, unsure of what news they would eventually receive on Clay's condition.

Naima had been on shift, and she'd rushed to meet them, catching Ray in a fierce embrace before somberly greeting all of them. She'd managed to gather that Clay was being worked on, and that he was at least breathing, and had a pulse. Her words at the time had been gentle, with as much reassurance as she could muster. But Sonny had read between the lines – she wasn't sure whether Clay would make it or not, and she couldn't promise that he would be okay.

"He's lost a lot of blood," she'd admitted quietly.

In other words – their boy was barely holding on.

Sonny had turned away from the group then. He'd sought out a private corner by the vending machine. There he could focus on the clock, giving his mind something to latch on to, while he tried his best not to break down. His insides felt as though they were tearing apart, and he wasn't sure whether he wanted to smash something up or collapse in tears. The others must have realized that he needed the space, because they all wisely left him alone – although they did cast occasional looks his way, each of them fighting their own emotional battles as they struggled to come to grips with what was happening.

Blackburn and Davis had joined them half an hour after the ambulance had rushed Clay in. Their commander had given them the news that Derek and Full Metal had found Ash trying to leave town, and they were handing him over to NCIS. Sonny had felt a tsunami of emotion at that news. But, as much as he hated Ash and wanted desperately to know just what role the bastard had played in the day's events, his attention had to be here and now. His focus had to be on Clay. NCIS would take care of the investigation from here. All Sonny could care about, in this moment, was his little brother.

Skimming his eyes briefly around the room, Sonny fought against the burning lump in his throat and the ache in his chest.

He observed Jason, alternating between standing and pacing, eyes distant and expression as haunted as it had ever been.

Ray sat with Naima by his side, eyes subtly tracking Jason's anxious movements, hands clasped in his lap and a heavy sadness lining his features.

Trent sat beside Brock, both of them slumped in their seats. The medic's gaze threatened to bore a hole through the far side of the room, while Brock repeatedly rubbed fingers over his eyes and temples, looking lost without Cerberus to hold onto.

Vic sat deathly still in a chair, playing with an empty coffee cup, chewing his lip.

And Davis sat by Blackburn, eyes damp, darting a broken look in Sonny's direction every now and then.

Sonny twisted his gaze away, focused back on the clock. The second hand continued its laps, and the minutes ticked by.

Derek and Full Metal arrived. They quietly chatted with Blackburn and Jason before taking up their posts. Metal's eyes found Sonny's, and Alpha One gave a tight nod. Sonny nodded back, accepting the silent offer of support. Part of him wanted to find out what they knew about Clay's father, but he couldn't bring himself to cross the room. There would be time for questions later. Right now, it was taking all of Sonny's energy not to completely lose his shit while he waited. And waited. And waited.

Letting his eyes drift out of focus while he watched the time slip by, Sonny's gut churned. Clay was laying on a bed somewhere, behind those closed doors, without even knowing that his entire team were here rooting for him. Sonny had had a few close calls himself, but each time he'd drawn comfort from the fact that his brothers were close by. Clay had been completely alone today, with no reassurance that his brothers were even looking for him. It destroyed Sonny to think that there was a chance that Clay could feel as abandoned in death, as he had no doubt felt multiple times through his life.

Sonny's breath caught, and he spun away from the clock. Tears threatened. His dam was about ready to break. Before he could clamp down on the rising emotions, a door clicked open and a doctor emerged.

The whole of Bravo stiffened, rising one by one to their feet.

Sonny couldn't breathe. He tried to brace himself emotionally, but he was unravelling, fast.

Davis must have noticed, because she was by his side in a heartbeat, her hand on his arm like an anchor as she steadied them both.

The doctor, thankfully, didn't draw it out. "He's stable," he announced.

And Sonny didn't hear much of what came out of the man's mouth after that – something about blood loss, shock, severely bruised ribs, touch and go. The man's mouth was moving, but all Sonny could do was cling to the fact that Clay was alive.

Davis' grip tightened, and her teary eyes found his. "He's going to be okay," she breathed, although it sounded more like a sob.

And Sonny didn't care that the team were all there, he pulled her into a tight embrace and buried his face against her shoulder, allowing the tears he'd been battling to hold at bay to finally flow freely.