prologue
Afghanistan. 02:30.
It was the pain that brought him back to consciousness. The sharp, all-encompassing pain that overwhelmed every single one of his senses. Every breath, every tiny minute movement sent shockwaves of pain throughout his beaten, abused body.
He couldn't remember exactly what happened, or why he was laying on the hot desert sand instead of in the barracks, but as he forced himself to focus, little pieces of memories came flooding back. They flashed like pictures through his mind.
He was angry. Angry, disappointed, and sad. He was making his way across base when he was attacked from behind, surprised by the onslaught of vicious hits and jabs. The attack was brutal. Jay was great with hand-to-hand combat and could more than hold his own in a fight. He got a few good punches in, but it was no match against the blind fury coursing through his assailant.
A hard and well-placed punch to his head caused his vision blur and made him stumble. His attacker was in front of him now and, through bleary eyes and blood seeping from a new head wound, Jay thought he saw a familiar camo print but pushed that thought out of his mind and blamed the concussion he surely had. There was no way one of his own teammates would do this. Right?
A sharp pain in his abdomen stole his breath and had Jay doubling over. He first thought it was a well-placed punch but when he pulled his hand away and saw it was covered in blood, he realized it was something worse. That was when the pain hit, bringing Jay to his knees.
Blood soaked the sand, seeping into the knees of his pants. The hits and stabs kept coming and through the roaring in his ears, Jay heard his attacker talking—his words and taunts in time with the blows.
At the end of it all, Jay laid on the sand with blood pooling around him. He was losing consciousness and the last thing he saw before passing out was a pair of familiar, standard issue boots, confirming what he wouldn't let himself believe earlier.
… … …
"Ricky?"
"Jay? JAY!"
The voices sounded so far away it was as if Jay was hearing them through water. He blamed the repeated blows to his head as he hovered in and out of consciousness.
Hurried footsteps came towards him, and the voices grew louder. Jay's body tensed subconsciously, fearing his attacker had come back. Then, his abused mind recognized one of the voices. Mouse.
"Oh shit! Guys, over here!"
"Sarge, we found him!"
"We need a medic over here, now!"
Jay felt hands on him, moving him and trying to help. His pain soared, threatening to send him back to unconsciousness. Jay tried to fight it, tried to stay awake, but everything was too overwhelming.
As he passed out again, the last thing Jay heard was a whispered plea from his best friend.
"Hang on buddy, we've got you. Hang in there. Please."
A/N: Inspired by the out of character (in my opinion) 9x03 storyline where Jay knew about a war crime and didn't say anything. That didn't sit right with me, so I came up with this.
see y'all next Tuesday for chapter one!
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