23. What's a Whumpee Gotta Do to Get Some Sleep Around Here? (Exhaustion | Narcolepsy | Sleep Deprivation)
Adam was running on empty.
Their last mission had gone straight to hell. He had two team members in the base hospital, with the other two recovering restlessly back at their team quarters.
Miraculously, he was the one that came out the most unscathed.
Other than a shallow scrape down his left side, he was relatively whole. It hurt, sure, but it wouldn't keep him from his regular activities.
And he had responsibilities to attend to.
After they'd gotten back, he'd spent three hours ensuring Preach and McG had gotten proper treatment—McG had a badly sprained ankle, and Preach had managed to dislocate a shoulder in a poorly landed fall. Then Adam had spent an additional hour waiting to hear about Jaz and Amir. Jaz had sustained a deep bullet graze to the bicep, and Amir had been clocked pretty good by the butt of a rifle. Both would be fine, and they only had to stay overnight to make sure their injuries weren't more serious.
After Amir and Jaz were settled in, Adam took McG and Preach back to their quarters, helping them put their things away, before returning back to the hospital to spend a couple hours with Jaz and Amir.
He'd stayed deep into the evening, chatting with Jaz while keeping a careful eye on a woozy Amir. Adam only left when he was satisfied both of them would be just fine.
"You look like shit—get some sleep," Jaz had said in farewell. He'd given a teasing reply and left, skirting the issue.
Sleep had to wait. He had too much to do.
When he'd gotten back to their shared living space, it was dark and silent inside, and Preach and McG were nowhere in sight. He assumed they were in bed.
So he quietly settled in for a long night and got to work. What he'd hoped would only take a couple hours actually turned into four, and he spent a majority of the night writing his report and filling out the pertinent forms for his team.
Somewhere around four in the morning, he shut his laptop, pleased by what he he'd gotten done.
There wasn't much time before sunrise, and Adam had committed to getting back to the hospital bright and early. But there was still a little time to spare, so Adam decided he'd try and get a little sleep before returning to the hospital to sit with Amir and Jaz until their release. But the heavy pulls of sleep were rudely interrupted by the sting at his side. Every way he turned, it would prickle and sting, pulling him from any hope of a dreamless sleep.
He gave it a good hour. And he was steadily wearing down to overwhelming exhaustion.
But by the time he was tired enough to give in, it was too late. If he slept now, he'd definitely oversleep.
So at five, he got up, showered gingerly, changed, and left for the base hospital with a mug of sludgy coffee. Amir would be disgusted.
He left the empty mug in the car, tugging his t-shirt down with purpose as he approached the hospital. The fidgeting helped startle his body back awake. He was dragging, the coffee hardly waking his leaden limbs and murky mind. The minutes felt long, and he was starting to feel stretched and weak.
He was exhausted.
To make things worse, his eyes burned, no matter how much he blinked. He could feel aches of fatigue gathering in his shoulders.
But he had a job to do.
After quietly speaking to a nurse, he slipped into the familiar hospital room, the dim light of the rising sun washing over his two team members.
They looked tired and worn but still asleep, so Adam parked himself in a plastic chair and scrolled through emails on his phone. He paused over one particular communication.
Dammit. He'd filled out the wrong forms. He must've been really out of it last night.
He'd just have to do it all again today.
Adam let out a low sigh, answering an email from Patricia before scrolling through the rest. He was well and truly flagging. His body seemed to mold into the uncomfortable chair, and he could feel the woozy pull of unconsciousness.
No. Not now.
He pushed out of the chair, struggling a little with the exertion, and took a lap around the facility. In his waking trek, he sometimes stumbled over his uncoordinated, tired feet, but he managed to wake his drifting body enough to keep going. He just had to make it to the evening.
Adam was marginally more energized when he returned to the room, and he took his seat once more. After another half hour, Jaz and Amir finally awoke, surprised to see their commanding officer there so early.
As they chatted, Amir had said something about how tired he looked, but Adam shrugged it off with ease and pushed onward. Like he'd done with Jaz. Like he'd done numerous times before with other situations. Sure, this was probably the most tired he'd been without a mission-fueled surge of adrenaline, but he could manage. He always did.
Amir and Jaz let it go without a fight, and they settled back into friendly chatter, waiting for the next step. Doctors and nurses came in and out to check vitals and conditions, ensuring the two of them were truly ready for release. It seemed to take forever.
Late in the morning, they got the all-clear, and Adam was talking to the doctors while nurses helped Jaz and Amir get dressed for the ride home.
Then they were in the car, Amir leaning a weary, aching head against the window while Jaz fiddled with her sling in the back seat. Adam could almost see the finish line. Just a handful of hours taking care of his people and he could go to sleep. He could finally go to sleep.
His dry eyes seemed to have gotten even drier, and his vision sometimes swam in and out of focus. Honestly, he shouldn't have been driving. Adam even considered pulling over to see if Jaz could drive one-handed. But he kept pushing himself a little farther. And a little farther. And then, somehow, they were safely back to their team quarters.
That was . . . probably one of the stupidest things he'd ever done. But there was nothing to do about it now, so he pushed his aching body out of the car and carefully guided Amir to shelter from the afternoon heat—even though it did feel a bit like the blind leading the blind.
By noon, the whole team was reunited, four out of five sitting wearily around the common area. To keep them resting properly, Adam found himself fetching water bottles, snacks, and pills. He was making tea when a wave of lightheadedness washed over him, forcing him to lean heavily onto the lip of the sink.
He was pushing it, he knew. The last bit of shuteye he'd managed was a shallow nap on the chopper home. Before that, it was a quick slumber in a crumbling building to help him finish the op.
All in all, he'd gotten maybe three hours of sleep in the last forty-eight hours.
He was exhausted.
Maybe he could grab a nap while the team was occupied. He just had to make tea.
Well, and fill out the right forms. He'd forgotten about that.
Mustering what energy he could manage, Adam finished making and serving tea. Then he plopped down at the kitchen table to work on the forms.
That was probably the two longest hours of his life.
Closing the laptop, he rubbed at the sand in his eyes, willing himself to stay awake. Evening had nestled in comfortably, and he realized he was the only able body available to make dinner. Between the other four, one couldn't stand, two had only one free hand, and the fourth still stumbled dizzily walking from the couch to the bathroom.
Checking in on the team and replenishing their water, he set to making some kind of meal. But it was agony now. His limbs weren't cooperating completely, and his head had begun a steady thrum of pain behind his eyes. Moving felt like a monumental task, and even forcing his eyes to focus was almost too much at times.
He'd barely managed to wash vegetables when another lightheaded spell hit him—this one much stronger. Adam leaned against the counter to try and steady himself, but the wooziness wouldn't let up. Images were twisting and burning at the edges: signs of an overtaxed brain.
It seemed he'd found his limit.
His vision blurred in and out, and Adam felt both weak and confused.
Maybe he should sit.
But he knew that as soon as he let go of the counter, he wouldn't stay upright.
His mind was moving sluggishly, trying to think of a possible solution. His thoughts grew cloudier. And his vision tilted.
Adam's body gave in.
-0-0-0-0-0-
"You couldn't beat me even if I played one-handed," Jaz teased, crossing her legs with a cheeky grin.
"Actually, I don't doubt that," McG chuckled, his leg resting on a spare chair from the kitchen table. "But I'd rather not test that theory."
"Play nice, kids," Preach said with a smile. After a long mission, it was nice to finally have a moment of rest and quiet. Team moments like this were the most rejuvenating, chasing away the aches and the dark memories of an op gone wrong.
And at least Top had managed to dodge the worst of it this time.
Amid another round of laughter, there was a thud in the kitchen. They froze. They knew the sickeningly familiar slap of a body hitting the floor.
"Top?" Jaz asked, twisting in her seat. Her lungs hitched at the sight of an unmoving Adam on the floor.
"Oh, shit," McG hissed, hastily grabbing for his crutch. Preach and Jaz moved from their seats, reaching Adam first as McG hobbled alongside an unsteady Amir.
"Top?" Jaz prompted again, shaking Adam's shoulder.
"See a head injury?" McG probed, trying to look over Preach's shoulder.
Jaz shook her head, her free hand carefully combing through dirty blond hair. "Don't think it's a head injury."
Beside her, Preach was checking Adam over for anything else he might've hid. But he'd been checked out alongside the rest of them. Other than the mean scrape along his side, he was fine.
He'd been fine.
If you didn't count the dark circles under his eyes and weary pinch to every expression. But they'd all been tired. They'd assumed it was a lingering downfall of the mission.
Now, Preach questioned it. He looked over his shoulder at their team medic. "Did you hear Top go to bed last night?"
McG's mouth fell open, immediately catching on. "No, but I was pretty dead to the world."
"So was I," Preach huffed.
Jaz looked between them, feeling out of the loop. "What?"
McG pursed his lips in frustration. "I don't think Top got any sleep last night."
"Now that you mention it, he was at the hospital pretty early this morning," Amir mumbled. "Got there before we even woke up."
"And he left pretty late," Jaz added.
McG sighed heavily. "Ah, geez."
"Let's at least get him to the couch," Preach instructed tiredly.
Easier said than done. Preach and Jaz only had one usable arm each, and McG couldn't put any weight on his sprained ankle. While Amir had four limbs intact, overexertion made him dizzy and unsteady. They had two options: drag Adam across the floor or leave him lying on the ground.
They elected to drag him to the couch.
Preach and Jaz each grabbed one of Adam's arms and pulled. They were as careful as possible, but dragging was dragging, and Adam's limp body followed their rough path without a single grimace or groan.
Getting him on the couch was harder.
But once McG kneeled down to help, the three of them pushed Adam onto the couch, trying to be mindful of the tender scrape on his side.
And while McG looked over their CO, they made their next plan.
-0-0-0-0-0-
Adam awoke with a start, his body groggy and heavy. He wasn't sure what woke him—he felt like he could sleep nonstop for the next several years. But he was alarmed to find himself on the couch, with McG looming over him.
"Oh, didn't think you'd wake up so soon," McG hummed, gentle fingers probing Adam's scalp. "Just wanted to double-check that you didn't hit your head on the way down."
Adam sluggishly tried to remember how he'd gotten there or what he'd been doing before.
More slowly than usual, the memories drifted back into his mind. Dinner. He was supposed to be making dinner.
He struggled to push himself up, only for McG to push him back down.
"Woah there. You get off this couch, and I will kick your ass," McG ordered, keeping his hands against Adam's shoulders until he was sure his CO wouldn't move. "You pushed yourself too hard. What were you thinking staying awake that long?"
Adam opened his mouth to answer, then closed it. He didn't really have a good answer to that. At least, not one that McG would accept.
"We all saw how little sleep you got on that op. How the hell did you even get Jaz and Amir home?"
Again, Adam moved to answer, but McG stopped him with an abruptly raised hand.
"You know what? I don't think I want to know." With a frustrated huff, he shifted to take the weight off his knees and sit on the floor, one arm draped over the edge of the couch. "We're not letting you get up until you've had at least several hours of solid sleep."
Still moving slowly, Adam stared at the medic, finally finding his voice. "Dinner . . . ?"
"We're taking care of it," McG answered, his brow furrowing some. "I think you forget how resourceful we are."
Adam smirked some, closing his eyes again. He could hear Amir's soft timbre in the kitchen, paired nicely with Jaz's steady tone. There was the pleasant sound of sizzling and the quiet thump of a chopping knife.
He felt relieved that everything was taken care of. He could finally go to sleep. He ached to go to sleep.
The edge of the couch dipped further as McG leaned further toward his CO.
"You don't have to take care of us all the time," McG muttered. "Next time, just tell us to get our own shit and get some sleep."
Adam's smirk deepened, and the pull of slumber tugged at him.
"I'll keep that in mind," he croaked.
And the velvety darkness embraced him.
Fin.