I try to understand how we're here again
In the middle of the storm
There's nowhere to go, nowhere to go
But straight through the smoke
And the fight is all we know
- Walk Through the Fire, Zayde Wolf
Thomas
He was moving.
He didn't remember waking up. He didn't remember standing, picking a direction. He came aware when a broad leaf smacked him in the face as he staggered through the jungle, the world outside a smothering dark, the work inside a screaming fire.
He was moving through the night, vines snagging his arms, spiderwebs clinging to his face, and a sharp, breath-stealing pain in his side. He felt his breath crest over dry, cracked lips. He had no idea what direction he was headed, he just knew that stopping wasn't an option.
They needed him to keep going. Keep walking. They needed to escape—they weren't going to survive otherwise.
A voice shouted at him in Dari, causing him to flinch back, stumbling in the dark, his shoulder hitting a tree. There was a weapon in his hand—he wasn't sure where it came from, but he knew how to use it. He pointed it toward the voice, trying to pinpoint its location, but it seemed to come at him from all directions.
He blinked, shaking his head—the voice was yelling about rats. The goddamn rats. Months and months of questions about troop movements, commanding officer names, weapons, artillery, and in the end they scream at him about the rats.
"Fuck the rats," he muttered, staggering forward. God, he hurt. "Always hated those damn things. Worse than the cave…."
Everything hurt. It hurt to blink. To breathe.
But he couldn't stop. If he stopped, they'd find them, and he couldn't let that happen. He had to get them out of there, get them to safety. Get them home.
"Rick? Nuzo? TC?" he called, trying to make sure they heard him without giving away his position to their enemy. He had to make sure they were okay—why weren't they answering him?
A branch snapped.
"Rick?"
"Wrong."
The voice was startlingly close, and Thomas whirled toward it on instinct, leading with his weapon. A hand grabbed at his wrist and shoved his aim upward. It wasn't until then that he saw the figure, staggering back as the grip pressed hard against his arms, working to rid him of his one means of defense.
"You caused us a lot of trouble, Private Dick," snarled a heavily accented voice.
But not Dari. Not Pashtu.
Thomas shook his head, the motion sending him to one knee as the figure shifted his grip to wrap fingers around Thomas' throat, knocking him to the ground, water splashing around him as he hit.
"Wait…." When had there been a river?
"Goddamn punk," the figure growled as he struggled with Thomas over the weapon. "You're fucking half-dead anyway…just give it to me."
"Go to hell," Thomas gasped, twisting his grip until the muzzle of the gun was pressed between them, and pulled the trigger. Once, twice, three times.
The weight on him increased, shoving the air from his lungs. Huffing out an exhausted sob, he released the weapon, leaving it trapped between them, the heat of the muzzle burning his bare skin.
He almost didn't have the strength to move the body away from him; if he didn't move, he was going to die here. That much he knew.
With trembling arms, he pulled himself free and staggered to his feet, splashing across the shallow river.
He was completely turned around, and his body thrummed with a persistent pain that stole his clarity and sent his senses spinning. He went to one knee in the river, the cold water shocking him aware. It was cold—bone-achingly cold.
But it was water. He needed to stay near water. He needed to find shelter near water. It was basic survival; water meant life.
He looked around, the black starting to turn gray as dawn began to paint the edges of the horizon. Where the hell was he? This wasn't the Korengal…. How did he…?
A shout in the distance caught his attention and he staggered the rest of the way across the river.
"River," he pressed his hand against the stabbing pain in his side. "The mud…."
He'd been this way before, he realized. How had he gotten so turned around?
It didn't matter. He had to keep moving. The Taliban were still after him.
"No, not…," he muttered, leaning against a tree on the other side of the river, pressing the heel of his hand to his closed eye.
Not the Taliban. The drug dealers. Weapons dealers. Whatever. The Bad Guys. The guy back there was one of them.
And if he caught up, how close were the others? How long had he been walking?
"Thomas!"
Did they know his name? Were they calling for him now? He stepped out of the river, his foot sliding in the mud, and fell, hard, landing on his side.
He was screaming before he was truly aware of anything beyond the pain, blinking through a haze of torment as the sound seemed to echo around him, bouncing off the waning darkness itself and crashing back against him like a surgical strike.
Rick
"I should've kept a closer eye on him," Rick muttered to himself and he and Juliet swept the area south of the house.
They'd been walking for over thirty minutes without a sign of anything—no broken branches, no blood trail, not even a super-convenient a flashing neon sign telling them which way to go. He was getting discouraged and not a little afraid. The jungle was so dense, they could have walked right past Thomas and not known it.
"You can hardly blame yourself for the choices of a grown man," Juliet scoffed.
Rick spared her a glance. "I don't expect you to understand."
She pulled up short, pinning the beam of her flashlight directly in his eyes. "Oh, because I can't possibly understand the bond forged by adversity, is that it?"
Feeling the muscles in his neck coil of their own volition, Rick matched her beam for beam, pointing his flashlight back at her. "Yeah, that's pretty much it."
Juliet stepped forward, her light intense enough he was forced to look to the side.
"I may not have survived eighteen months being interrogated by the Taliban, but I do know what it's like to build devoted friendships."
Rick turned away, his beam on the ground once more. "It's not the same."
Juliet huffed. "I don't think it's quite fair to say—"
"I don't give a damn what you think is fair," Rick snapped, turning to face her, fear and anger and exhaustion and worry culminating in a cold rage that he could feel snapping at her from his eyes and holding his entire body like a clenched fist.
"Eighteen months, Juliet. Eighteen. With nothing but those three guys to keep me from going crazy. We got questions and fists. We got pretty damn familiar with the taste of our own blood." He leaned forward, pinning here with a pointed glare. "You don't get a comb or a clean shirt or a toothbrush, but you get to know the sound of your buddy's breathing. You know every nightmare, every doubt, every…every h-hope."
He paused to drag in a shaking breath, realizing as he did so that he was able to see her silhouette without the aid of the flashlight. It was nearing dawn.
"And unless you've had that? Unless you've survived that?" He flopped his hands out at his sides, then half turned from her. "Then no…I don't expect you to understand."
"Rick?"
He froze, then looked back at Juliet.
"Did you just—"
She nodded vigorously, lifting the beam of her flashlight to the dense jungle. "Magnum!"
They stood still and listened, trying to pinpoint where that weak, pain-soaked voice had called his name. And then they heard shots. Three of them in quick succession.
"Oh shit," Rick breathed, propelled forward, Juliet behind him.
He registered that she was radioing TC and Katsumoto, but he kept moving toward where the shots had come from.
"You don't think Devlin's men—"
"Has to be," Rick bit out. Thomas had kept away from them all night only for them to catch up now—it just wasn't fair. "Thomas!"
He moved around a Banyan tree and then pulled up short as a scream tore through the thin morning. It shook him, setting him back on his heels. It was the same scream he'd heard when Nuzo lit that gunpowder on Thomas' belly. It was the scream TC described as haunting his dreams.
For a moment, he was frozen, unable to move, the breath sucked from his body with the implication of that scream.
Juliet, however, was not hindered by the same demons that anchored Rick to the spot. She tore past him, running through the foliage toward the sound of the scream, quickly swallowed up by the jungle.
Rick blinked, trying to clear his vision. It was as though the world had suddenly gone soft at the edges, fog collecting around him. A strange, high-pitch whine echoed in his ears, like the after-effect of a too-near explosion. He stood still, trying to get his vision to clear, trying to hear anything.
Then he saw the muzzle.
It glinted off the edge of his flashlight beam. He might not have even noticed it, might have run right on by as Juliet had, but his body was conditioned to respond to weapons, to react to threats, and his sidearm was up before he'd truly registered the movement.
He heard two shots: one from the other weapon slicing a leaf in half near his head, the other one from him, the bullet buried neatly into their target.
And the world came back online.
"Rick!"
Juliet's cry of alarm cut through the left-over haze and he was in motion once more. He pushed the heavy ground cover aside to see a man in a rumpled, dirty suit lying prone, a silencer attached to his pistol, the weapon inches from his outstretched hand. Rick kicked it into the vines, away from the body.
"One less bad guy," he shouted back. "Did you find him?"
"Not yet, but he must be around here somewhere."
Rick crashed through the jungle to see Juliet with her flashlight up as she turned in a full circle trying to get her bearings. "Yeah, that scream was—" He stopped.
"Terrifying? Gut-wrenching?"
"Stop," Rick held up a hand. "Listen."
Water. He could hear running water.
"I was going to say close," he said, moving forward.
"Where are you going?" Juliet demanded following him.
"There's a river nearby," he told her. "Water means survival. If he's hurt, he's going to stay close to water."
As if she finally heard it, too, Juliet found another gear and flanked Rick, moving in tandem with him through the thick foliage. Rick heard a crack of sound on the radio and Juliet reported the second set of gunshots to be Rick taking out one of Devlin's men. He heard Katsumoto reply that they'd incapacitated two more.
Just then, he saw it—a limp hand, adorned by a Cross of Lorraine ring, flung out over a cluster of Banyan tree roots.
"Thomas?"
"TC, we found him," Juliet reported into the radio.
She pulled out the flare gun Katsumoto had given them. Rick smelled the pungent sulfur of the flare as he went to his knees next to the hand, a red glow illuminating the area around them. It took a moment to push the underbrush and massive leaves out of the way, but when he finally revealed Thomas, his gut turned to ice.
Thomas lay half in the water, his right shoulder and hand submerged, legs tangled in the vines and splattered with mud. His chest was bare, his filthy shirt having been used as a bandage around his middle, and what looked like a fresh burn branded into his pectoral. His skin was slick with blood, sweat, and mud, and his cargo shorts were saturated on one side with blood. The bruises Juliet had reported earlier were still visible, even in the waning light of dawn, and blood was caked into his eyebrow and hairline.
He was so pale. So very pale.
"Oh, my God," Juliet breathed, moving to his other side.
Rick reached out and tapped his friend's face gently, wincing at the heat he felt there. "Hey, Thomas. You with me, pal?"
Thomas blinked sluggishly, his dark eyes rolling beneath his lids, his lashes tented with sweat.
"Hey, there you are," Rick forced a grin into his voice. "Not the best place to take a nap, my man."
"Rick?" Thomas' voice grated the air between them, sending shrapnel of sound into Rick's heart.
"Hey," Rick smiled. "Long night, huh?"
"Gotta go, man," Thomas, tried to roll to his side, pulling his hand from the river and pressing it to the ground to sit up. "Gotta keep moving."
"Nah, now, how about you just lie still a second—" Rick tried to push Thomas down by gripping his bare shoulder. God, he was burning up.
"Can't!" Thomas pushed at him. "Gotta keep moving," he curled a trembling fist into the edge of Rick's shirt. "They'll find us…they find us, we're dead."
Rick felt his eyes burn. Thomas wasn't talking about Devlin's men. He was talking about the Taliban.
"They're not gonna find us, Thomas," Rick promised him. "They're gone, man. They're all gone."
Thomas kept hold of Rick's shirt and twisted his neck to look around him. Rick saw his eyes hit Juliet then glance off as though she was just another figure from the jungle.
"Where's Nuzo?" Thomas asked, his voice thin, strained.
"Oh, Tommy," Rick breathed, the question having knocked the air from him lungs.
The jungle was lighting up around them as they heard bodies moving through the foliage. Rick brought his weapon up without releasing his hold on Thomas' shoulder. He registered Juliet doing the same across from him. TC broke through first, followed closely by Katsumoto. They both raised their hands in surrender until Rick and Juliet lowered their weapons.
"Holy shit," Katsumoto breathed when he caught sight of Thomas.
"We need rescue services out here now," Juliet said, moving aside as TC splashed through a portion of the shallow river to mirror Rick on the other side of Thomas.
Katsumoto tried raising his officer on the radio.
"Hey, T.M.," TC said softly, helping to brace the other man.
"You see Nuzo?" Thomas asked in a ragged voice, twisting his head around. "He…he was right there. Just…just there. Can't…I can't see him."
Rick watched as TC's face folded in a familiar pain. "He's okay, man," TC replied. "He went ahead…to check the path."
Thomas nodded slowly, seeming to accept that. Rick felt his weight increase against their grip and he and TC gently eased Thomas out of the mud to more even ground, pushing back the foliage so that they could get at him.
"What'd you do to yourself, man?"
"They shot me," Thomas said on a gasp.
Rick winced as he untied the ruined shirt and exposed the blood and mud poultice that Thomas had constructed. "You packed it with mud?"
"No more bullets," Thomas said, the corner of his mouth bouncing up in a slight grin.
Rick grimaced; even if he'd had access to bullets, there was no way he'd have been able to treat this wound the same way Nuzo saved him before. He wet the ruined shirt and began to clean away the mud around the wound, hissing as Thomas arched away with a whimper.
TC was watching closely. "Through and through?" he asked.
"Looks like," Rick muttered, pulling Thomas toward him slightly, exposing both holes in his side, and cursing as he saw the blood begin to run freely once more. "He had the right idea with the mud, apparently."
"Here," Juliet took off her outer shirt, now clad in only a loose-fitting tank top.
Rick took it from her and folded it into a pressure bandage. "You see any…," his eyes darted around at the foliage surrounding them. "There—shapumvilla."
"Say what, now?" TC drew his head back, confused.
"Long, narrow leaves, really green—see it over there?" Rick jutted his chin over TC's shoulder. "It helps with coagulation, stops bleeding."
"How the hell did you know that?" Juliet exclaimed.
Rick shot her a glance as TC went to grab the leaves he indicated. "It pays to know things," he replied. Pulling Thomas closer to him so that the other man was practically in his lap, he nodded at TC. "Crush them up, like with a rock, yeah, there you go. Now, we put it on the wound and wrap it and…well, hopefully, it keeps him from bleeding out."
Thomas seemed vaguely aware of what they were talking about—or at least that they were trying to help him. He twisted his fist tighter in Rick's shirt, smearing the Hawaiian print with mud and blood, and turned to better expose his side.
"You ready?" Rick said to him, pitching his voice low.
"Do it," Thomas growled, and took a breath as TC smeared the crushed leaves against the two wounds.
They all flinched at Thomas' broken, ragged cry. He tugged abruptly on Rick's shirt, his neck arching back as he tried to both pull away from the pain and hold himself still at once. TC used Juliet's shirt to put pressure against the wound and tie it around his waist.
"Can't raise anyone on any of the channels," Katsumoto suddenly appeared over TC's shoulder. "We're going to have to get back to the house and call for rescue."
"You cover our six, Nuz?" Thomas slurred, blinking sluggishly up at Katsumoto.
The tall Asian man started, eyes darting from Rick to TC, then back to Thomas.
"Nuzo?" Thomas started to struggle upright, gasping and going white before Rick could press him back down.
"Yeah, he did, didn't you, Nuz?" TC spoke up quickly, shooting a glance over his shoulder at Katsumoto.
Katsumoto nodded shakily. "We're clear," he said.
Thomas relaxed again at that. Juliet moved closer, having used one of the broad leaves to construct a make-shift cup, and eased the edge against Thomas' lips, helping him swallow some water.
"There's a body across the river," she told them softly. "Looks to have been shot," she glanced at Rick, "three times, in the chest."
Rick looked back down at Thomas. The burn on his pectoral—it was from a heated muzzle. "Go check for Thomas' weapon," he said, his voice pitched low. "A Colt MKIV."
Juliet handed Rick the leaf cup so that he could give Thomas more water and slipped away. Rick glanced up at Katsumoto.
"You know it was self-defense," he said quickly. He nodded toward the muzzle burn. "The gun had to have been literally trapped between them."
Katsumoto lifted a shoulder. "One less bad guy."
Rick felt his shoulders sag with relief, and he turned his attention back to Thomas. He was starting to shake, Rick noticed. Trembling from his core outward.
"'s cold," Thomas muttered, dark eyes rolling up to look at Rick. "Weird, huh? Cold in the desert?"
Rick nodded, pushing Thomas' black hair away from his sweaty forehead. "So weird," he agreed, half-smiling at the old joke.
"Detective," Juliet called, splashing back across the river.
All but Thomas looked at her as she handed Katsumoto the Colt. Surprise taking a swipe at his expression, Katsumoto took the weapon and slid it into his back waistband.
"I'll have a team come back and do a sweep," he said, nodding his thanks.
Thomas groan softly, his trembling increasing. Rick looked down when he felt a tug on his shirt and saw that Thomas was curling his fist into the material tighter, as though pulling himself close to Rick would help him escape the pain.
Rick looked up at TC, then to Katsumoto. "We need to get him out of here; he's burning up, and from the looks of things, he's lost a lot of blood."
"We're going to have to carry him," Katsumoto said, grimacing.
"I'm ready," Rick said, determined. He'd drag him out of there if he had to. "TC, you with me?"
TC nodded once, shifting until he was in position. "Just like before, you ready?" he asked.
Rick took a breath, then looked at Thomas.
"Hey, Thomas, you ready to get out of here?"
"Long as you're comin' with me," Thomas slurred.
Rick smiled down at him, his gut clenching. "Got nowhere else to go, brother."
TC and Rick clasped arms across Thomas' back, his arms over theirs, hands resting on their shoulders. On a three-count, they stood, pulling Thomas up with them.
"Ahhhh! Son of a bitch!" Thomas cried out weakly, gripping their shirts tightly as the motion pulled on his wound. "Oh, fuck that hurts. That really hurts."
"You got this, man," Rick encouraged. "We're right here with you."
"That guy was fast," Thomas panted, his head lolling on his shoulders as they started to move carefully along the make-shift path, Katsumoto in the lead, Juliet bringing up the rear. "D-didn't even s-see the gun."
The Korengal again, Rick knew. They'd said the same thing after Nuzo stopped Thomas from bleeding to death. They hadn't even seen the gun.
"Yeah, but he doesn't know Thomas Magnum, does he?" Rick said, keeping up with the memory. "Tigers tough."
"Tigers t-tough," Thomas repeated as they moved through the brush.
He hung between the two men, his feet alternating between stepping and dragging, unable to keep up the motion of walking for long. After several beats where there was no sound but their footsteps and Thomas' ragged breathing, Rick felt Thomas' weight suddenly shift.
"Rick…."
They stopped, Rick instinctively wrapping his free arm around Thomas' chest as the smaller man seemed to sag.
"Rick—" Thomas gasped then, his legs disappearing on him and TC and Rick when to their knees on either side.
"I got you."
They lay him on the ground, his head hanging back on a loose neck, his arms sliding from their shoulders. His eyelids fluttered and Rick put his hand against Thomas' jaw, his fingers resting against his fever-hot cheek.
"Rick…," Thomas wheezed. "'m s-sorry."
Rick slid a hand up Thomas' neck to the back of his friend's head. His heart shook inside his chest, a voice in his head screaming at him a wordless sound of anguish.
Some things Rick just knew.
But not this. He didn't want to know this moment.
"Nothing to be sorry for, man," Rick said, and felt the weight of TC's big hand on his shoulder, the other man focused on Thomas, just as he was. "Gonna get you back home, get you fixed up. You'll see."
He knew Juliet and Katsumoto were standing nearby, knew they were most likely trying to raise someone at the house, call for help, be of use…but right now it was just them.
Just him and Thomas and TC.
With Nuzo's shadow shading them from the morning sun.
"'m sorry…'bout the camp…. 'n 'bout…hurt…hurting you…."
Thomas' breaths were harsh, quick and shallow; his eyes rolled, panicked, as though he were trying to find them.
"I'm right here, man," Rick said, realizing belatedly that he been gripping Thomas' hand so tightly in his own his knuckles were turning white.
Thomas' gaze found him then and Rick felt those dark eyes pin him. There'd always been something lost in Thomas' eyes, even when he was laughing. And this time was no different.
The lost boy seeking a home. An anchor.
"Rick…."
"I'm right here," Rick repeated. "I'm not going anywhere."
"Hurts, man…," Thomas gasped, his voice sounding as though it was coming at them through a straw. His back arched slightly, his head pressing into the dirt of the jungle floor. "Aww, fuck it hurts…."
"I know," Rick rubbed the top of Thomas' head, feeling helpless and angry all at once.
Thomas whimpered, a sound Rick had heard too often in the past and never wanted to hear again. It took an awful lot to get Thomas to make that sound and that fact alone had Rick's gut clenching in fear.
"Hang in there, Tommy," he said, rubbing his thumb across Thomas knuckles. "Gonna get you some help, okay?"
"'K," Thomas murmured, breath puffing out through parted lips.
He blinked slowly, his gaze sliding to somewhere to the middle distance, and then without another sound, he went boneless in Rick's grasp, eyes slipping closed.
"No," Rick exhaled, shaking their clasped hands. "NO."
He didn't want to know this moment. It wasn't something he would survive. He bent forward, pulling Thomas closer to him, a wail building at the back of his throat.
"He's breathing," TC said suddenly.
"What?" Rick gasped, looking up, his burning eyes blurring as he looked between TC and Thomas.
"Man, he's breathing," TC said more urgently, pushing to a crouch and gently pulling Thomas away from Rick's chest.
Rick leaned forward, his cheek to Thomas' mouth. Sure enough, there was air.
"Oh, thank God," he breathed.
"Here, let me," TC scooped one arm behind Thomas' shoulders and another beneath his knees, picking him up in a bridal carry.
As he lifted him from the ground, a cell phone fell from Thomas' pocket. Rick registered Katsumoto bending over to pick it up, but his eyes were on the way Thomas' head and arm hung limply from TC's grasp. He eased Thomas' head up to TC's shoulder and nodded, leading the way so TC didn't have to push through any of the vines and leaves.
It took him a moment to realize that Juliet was next to him, and he'd almost be willing to swear there were tears on her face mingled with sweat.
"You okay?" he asked.
She shook her head. "I'm realizing I have made a gross misjudgment in character."
Rick took a slow breath, glancing back to where TC carried Thomas, Katsumoto next to them.
"You said before," Juliet continued, clearing her throat, then continuing. "You said that if Magnum hadn't survived, you didn't want to, either."
Rick flinched, wondering what TC thought hearing that. Wondering if he already knew.
"Is it because of what TC told us in the car?"
Rick glanced back at TC again, then let his eyes linger on where Thomas lay slumped against TC's chest before turning his eyes front.
"It's because of…just who he is. The camp was hard on all of us, but…it was hardest on Thomas," Rick told her.
The radio crackled, making them all jump. Katsumoto answered and looked up with a relieved smile when his officer responded. He instructed him to get an ambulance to the house and be ready to roll as soon as they got back—they were bringing a critically-injured man with them.
"See if you can find any clean towels, boil some water, get a clean space available for us in case there's a delay in getting the bus up here," Katsumoto instructed. "And see if there's any kind of first aid in the house."
"Roger that," the officer replied, and with that the group seemed to collectively find another gear, heading every forward to the house.
After about another ten minutes, however, TC stumbled, taking a knee, Thomas jostle a bit in his arms.
"Our boy's heavy," TC panted, looking up at Rick.
"You could put him over your shoulder," Rick frowned, assessing the situation. "But carefully, 'cause any pressure on that wound—"
"Yeah, just need a minute," TC said, shifting his grip on Thomas. "Catch my breath."
"Here," Rick held out his arms. "I'll take a turn."
"You kidding?" TC scoffed. "You're basically the same size—"
"But I'm not," Katsumoto spoke up, surprising all of them. "I'll take a shift while you rest."
Rick blinked at the police detective in outright shock. "You're…volunteering to carry him?"
"We're wasting time talking about it," Katsumoto grumbled, crouching lower and putting his shoulder into Thomas' chest, then shifting the pliant man across his shoulders, the motion causing the wound to hit Katsumoto's back and Thomas flinched and cried out, though he didn't wake.
"He better stay out for this," Katsumoto grumbled as he hefted the unconscious man, hooking one arm around Thomas' knee and grasping the man's loose hand in his. "And the rest of you are sworn to silence."
When they didn't reply, Katsumoto glared over at the other three.
In unison, they lifted their hands in surrender, speaking at once.
"Not a word."
"Won't hear it from me."
"Lips are sealed."
Thomas' head rested against Katsumoto's bicep, his free hand hanging down the man's back. Without another word, Katsumoto moved forward and Rick flanked him with TC and Juliet following closely.
"You weren't exaggerating," Katsumoto huffed. "He's burning up."
"His immune system is for shit," Rick muttered. "We're all like that, though," he added. "Lack of nutrition…medical aid…hell, sunlight. It'll do a number on your body. It about killed him when we got back to Germany."
"Infection?" Juliet asked.
"Infection, starvation, you name it," TC's voice rumbled from behind them.
Rick's eyes tracked the vines lacing the ground, clearing the way for Katsumoto, as he listened to TC's memories.
"There wasn't much we could fight off for a while there," TC continued. "They had me on calcium injections for my arm, had Rick downing fifty, sixty B-12 caplets a day…, but T.M., he…," TC paused, and Rick knew he was shaking his head. "He was already hollowed out before we even escaped. They had him hooked up to so many IVs of stuff. Bags and bags of vitamins and antibiotics and supplements."
"He looked like a science experiment," Rick remembered.
"What, uh…," Katsumoto asked, hefting his burden a bit as he walked on. "What did he mean about being sorry he hurt you?"
Rick felt the jungle go quiet around them. TC didn't say a word, waiting him out. Katsumoto pushed forward, stalwartly keeping Thomas' limp body balanced.
"Tommy…blames himself for us being captured," Rick said carefully. "It wasn't his fault, but…he won't…he can't let himself off the hook." Rick shrugged; hands spread out at his sides for a moment before dropping them once more. "When we were there, they didn't go easy on any of us—but, man they loved to torture him. And he'd draw the attention to himself, trying to keep the guards from us. It was the only way he could think to protect us. When he was gone, down in that hole, we…," he found he had to clear emotion from his throat to force the memories forward, "we didn't know if he was dead or alive, and then they'd bring him back to us…."
He couldn't continue. The images of Thomas, sick and breakable, bounced before his eyes, mingling with the dirt and dust of the jungle floor.
"We'd…pull together to keep him alive," TC continued. "Nuzo would tell him not to be an idiot, to keep away from the guards. But…as soon as he was able to stand on his own, the minute one of the guards went after one of us, he'd get in their face. Distract them."
"He did more than keep you from getting hurt," Katsumoto gasped, forced to stop.
He nodded tiredly when TC moved back over to take Thomas from him, helping the other man adjust the weight of his friend. Rick tried to ignore the worry gnawing at his gut about the fact that Thomas hadn't woken once with these transfers. He focused instead on the fact that Thomas was breathing, was alive.
"He kept you focused on a common goal," Katsumoto continued, dragging an arm across his forehead. "My guess is he learned that in SEAL training. I've read it's one of the only ways some guys don't ring out. Keep a group focused on a common goal and they can survive almost anything." He stepped in beside TC and Rick tried to ignore the smear of blood on his shoulder and back from Thomas' wound. "Keeping him alive kept you alive."
Rick nodded with a small smile. "You pick up on more than I realized, Detective."
Katsumoto frowned. "Thanks, I think."
"We have to be getting close," Juliet commented, looking at her watch. "We've been walking for almost thirty minutes."
"It's right there, through the break in those trees," Rick told her.
"You're sure?" Juliet questioned.
"My man's a sniper, Higgy," TC reminded her. "Not much he doesn't see."
Rick let himself grin at that.
He was right; through the break in the trees, they saw the house. Juliet and Katsumoto hurried forward to make sure the house was clear and the supplies were available. When TC and Rick reached the house with Thomas, there was a bath towel spread over the kitchen table and the other supplies Katsumoto asked for were sitting on the counter.
"Here, set him down here," Katsumoto helped guide TC through the door so that they didn't hit Thomas' head on the doorframe.
In the light, he looked even worse—bloody, filthy, sweaty, and so pale he was practically gray. Rick felt his gut clench, his mind tracking back to a dusty cell with a bucket of tepid water and stolen antibiotics. He rubbed the back of his neck.
"TC, man…," he muttered.
"He's still breathing," TC said, his low voice a comfort. "Just concentrate on that."
Juliet was a blur of motion in comparison to their fearful paralysis. She used the towel and water provided by the officer and began to wipe the mud and blood from Thomas' face, neck and chest, avoiding the make-shift bandage. When TC reached for it, she put out a hand to stop him.
"No, leave it," she instructed. "He can't afford to lose any more blood."
"Where's that damn bus?" Katsumoto asked the officer lurking in the doorway.
"I'll find out," the man replied.
Rick moved to Thomas' head, pushing his fingers through his friend's sweaty, black hair. Thomas turned his head with the motion, pressing into the hollow of Rick's hand as though seeking contact.
"Hey, man," Rick said softly. "You with us?"
"Where…?" Thomas whispered, not opening his eyes. He shuddered as awareness visibly washed over him.
"Hey, Tommy, hey," Rick smiled. "You're okay. We found you, man."
Thomas' eyes rolled beneath his lids until he was able to pry them open. "Not the jungle."
Rick kept his smile in place. "Not the jungle."
"Everybody…get out?"
Rick nodded, glancing up a TC, then back at Thomas. "Yeah, buddy. We got out. You just rest, okay?"
Thomas closed his eyes, swallowing hard before forcing them open once more. "Tell…Kats…."
Rick straightened his shoulders. This was new.
"Katsumoto?" Rick asked, looking over for the police detective.
"Pictures…," Thomas whispered. "On phone. Somethin'…real."
Rick's eyes found Katsumoto and saw him frown, then pull Thomas' cell phone from his pocket. He stepped forward, taking Thomas' hand and used his thumb to unlock the phone then blinked in surprise, scrolling through a screen.
"Son of a bitch," he murmured.
"What is it?" Juliet asked.
Katsumoto looked up at the group, then down at Thomas. "Evidence."
Thomas' brow furrowed and Rick pushed his fingers through his friend's hair once more as that seemed to soothe him before.
"Ambulance is still ten minutes out," the office said suddenly from the doorway.
"Here," Juliet moved closer, a glass of water in her hand.
Rick took it with a nod, then lifted Thomas' head so that he could drink. He murmured encouragement as Thomas swallowed greedily, emptying the glass. Rick handed it back to Juliet for more as Thomas blinked his eyes open.
"Knew y'd find me," he whispered.
"Gonna put a tracker on you," Rick muttered, his hand still on the back of Thomas' head. "Right here, in your neck, so we can't lose you."
"You were there," Thomas whispered. "Whole time."
"Yeah, man," Rick replied, tears surging forward, threatening to spill. "I know."
"You…'k?"
Rick half smiled, feeling the choking hand of emotion at his throat. "Yeah, man, I'm good."
"Good," Thomas exhaled, his eyes fluttering closed. "'s okay…doesn't…doesn't really hurt…anymore."
Thomas exhaled slowly, and suddenly Rick was truly afraid for the first time since leaving the damn camp.
"Thomas?"
The room seemed to go quiet around them; he could hear the filament in the ceiling light burning and ticking.
"Tommy?"
The weight of Thomas' head in his hand was too much; his friend's body lax on the table. It was a strange weight. As if everything that kept Thomas moving had simply slipped from him with that last breath. It was a weight that pressed on Rick like nothing had before.
"No…," he whispered, gripping Thomas' limp hand tightly. "No, no, hey…hey, Tommy. Open your eyes." He slipped his hand from behind Thomas head and patted his bruised cheek. "Tommy, open your eyes."
The world faded around him, fog once more collecting at the edges of his vision. He pulled Thomas up by the shoulders, one hand going behind his lax neck to support his head and he cradled the smaller man against him.
"Open your eyes, Tommy," he said, hearing more than feeling the tears as he clutched his friend's heated body against him. "Don't do this. Not now, not like this."
A dark hand thrust itself between his chest and Thomas' face and he registered that TC was feeling for breath, then for a pulse.
"Oh, shit," TC practically growled. "Dammit, Thomas!"
"Move." Katsumoto's bark came from a million miles away. And yet suddenly he was right at Rick's elbow. "Move, now."
Rick's hands were shaking as he released his friend, Thomas' head rolling loosely against the table, one arm hanging free. He watched with a sort of numb detachment as Katsumoto checked Thomas' airway, then rested an ear against his chest before climbing up on the table and straddling Thomas hips, his hands folded together and pressed against Thomas' sternum.
"Shall I take breaths?" Juliet was asking.
Rick blinked, confused. What was happening right now? TC had a hand at his arm, holding him up, holding him back. He didn't register that his hands were clenched in fists at his sides until the bigger man took one in his hand and covered it with his long fingers.
"We just have to keep the blood flowing until the EMTs get here," Katsumoto was saying, pressing hard against Thomas pliant chest, puffing out a gasping count as he did so.
Rick watched in a daze as Thomas battered chest flexed with the heavy thrusts. After a count of one hundred, Katsumoto stopped, pressed his ear to Thomas' chest, then frowned fiercely as he resumed his thrusts.
"C'mon, Magnum," Katsumoto growled breathlessly as he pressed against Thomas' ribcage. "I carried you through the freaking jungle," Rick heard something pop in Thomas' chest, "don't think you're getting away without me holding that over your head."
Rick felt his own heart tremble as Katsumoto paused once more and listened. The high-pitch whine began to echo in his ears once more when Katsumoto straightened up with a curse.
"Goddammit, Magnum," Katsumoto curled a fist and thumped against Thomas' sternum once, hard. They all paused for a moment, then Katsumoto thumped him hard again, just as the welcoming wail of an ambulance siren was heard in the distance.
Katsumoto leaned back on his haunches, his weight hovering over Thomas' hips.
"Do it again," Rick heard himself order, pulling away from TC's grip and moving to Thomas' head. "Hit him again."
"Rick…." Juliet started, her voice soft, a suggestion of retreat. Of acceptance.
Rick ignored her, because no. No goddamn way was he accepting this. Not this. Reaching forward, he curled a fist full of Katsumoto's shirt in his grip. "Hit him again!"
He released the police detective's shirt and moved back to Thomas' head.
"C'mon, Tommy," Rick entreated, his fingers in Thomas' hair. "C'mon, man, you got this. You crawled your way out of that hole, over and over. You got us out of that damn cave. You're not going out like this. I won't fucking let you."
Katsumoto thumped Thomas' sternum a third time, the force of it shaking the smaller man's body, and suddenly Thomas dragged in a ragged, rough lungful of air, his head tipping back and mouth dropping open like a drowning man.
"That's it," Rick encouraged, tears burning his eyes, blurring his vision. "That's it man, one more like that."
Thomas coughed weakly as a commotion sounded behind Rick and the EMTs breached the entrance of the kitchen. He stayed at Thomas' head, his hand in his friend's hair as Katsumoto climbed off the table and Juliet gave the EMTs stats and Thomas gasped for breath.
Rick registered someone putting an oxygen mask over Thomas' face and another putting a C-collar around his neck while an IV was started in his arm and then for the first time since calling TC the morning before, Rick was relegated to the position of observer. He watched as the EMTs rolled Thomas gently to a backboard, moving him to the stretcher and then into the back of the ambulance.
"I'll take you straight there," Katsumoto promised, sounding as weary as Rick felt as they headed out of the house and up the long driveway.
"What a fucking night," Rick breathed, rubbing his neck. He was so tired he felt himself shivering. "We get him through this, man…no more."
"You know there's gonna be more," TC said, his voice low and soft as they climbed into Katsumoto's car. "There's always more. It's just who he is."
"I have to admit," Katsumoto said as he climbed behind the wheel. "I'm not sure what to with this picture you're painting. It's not the Magnum I thought I knew."
"I quite agree," Juliet replied solemnly from the front seat. "I've spent so much time being annoyed with him, I didn't realize it was a…a front."
"Well, not entirely," Rick shrugged, leaning his forehead against the cool window. "It's part of him, too. But…none of us are only one thing, are we?"
"Guess I should take the word of a sniper wearing a Hawaiian shirt," Katsumoto glanced at him in the rear-view mirror.
"Guess you should," Rick replied, meeting his eyes. He leaned back against the seat, watching the world pass by outside his window, gut clenching at the thought of Thomas waking up—alone and afraid—without them near. "Let's just get there, man."
"We're getting there," Katsumoto replied. "We're getting there."