25. I Think I'll Just Collapse Right Here, Thanks (Disorientation | Blurred Vision | Ringing Ears)
Adam couldn't remember how he got here. Or why. His head throbbed. His ears rang. Something was wrong with his leg, but he couldn't even hold onto a thought long enough to determine what the problem was.
All he knew was that he had to get away. And that he was stumbling his way through the desert.
To where? He couldn't be sure. Just that he was supposed to get away from whatever lay behind him.
The toe of his boot caught on a rock, sending him sprawling in the dirt as his rifle collided with his collarbone.
The ringing continued, snuffing out any other sound. He couldn't be sure if he was being chased. He didn't know if he was alone. He didn't even know if there was even a sliver of civilization nearby. All he heard was the even ringing of damaged eardrums, and he couldn't focus enough to even take in his peripherals.
His ribs throbbed. His leg pulsed with pain. His head swished and swirled in a foggy mist of aching red and black.
And for a moment, all he could do was lay there, his rifle pressing uncomfortably across the front of his shoulders. He knew he had to keep going, but the thought felt uneasy and strange. His body just wanted to rest and sink into the earth among the frayed and crackled brush.
But he knew he had to move. He had somebody—somebodies?—relying on him to stay alive. And staying alive meant moving away from danger, even if he couldn't remember what that danger was.
With a groan, he pushed himself up, swaying dangerously as he struggled to get his feet under him. Satisfied he could hobble on, he worked on getting one foot in front of the other, leaving a tight grip on his rifle.
"Top? Top, where are you?"
He stopped, blinking slowly. The voice sounded familiar, but he couldn't connect it to a name.
"Dunno." His mouth felt dry. His lips, cracked.
"The situation's been handled. We have the package. Ready to head back."
"Okay." He couldn't seem to speak louder than a croak, the words pushing uncomfortably past a sore larynx.
"You okay, Top?"
Adam mulled over the question. But his brain was having a hard time making connections and linking what he was feeling to actual words and thoughts.
"Dunno."
"Dammit, Top. Where are you?"
He vaguely looked at his feet. "Away?"
"How far?"
"Dunno."
"Command? Deputy director? Anyone there?" A beat of silence. "Shit. Did we lose contact with Command?"
"Could be temporary from the blast."
The tinny voices seemed to collide with each other, fighting through static.
"Top, in what direction is the sun?"
Adam blinked again, frowning as he squinted. The sky was fuzzy. And he couldn't seem to make out where the light was coming from. "Can't tell."
"Damn it. Everybody look around. See where Top went."
Adam felt tired. His leg still felt off. His head throbbing. He swallowed past his bruised larynx. He couldn't remember why his larynx was bruised. Couldn't really remember what was wrong with his leg. He wanted to sit, but then it felt like entirely too much trouble.
So he stood. Balanced precariously on one solid leg.
"I think I see him," a female voice said, followed by huffs like she was running. "I've got him. Top, sit tight. We're coming to you."
Adam frowned. He didn't really have anywhere to go now. He had a feeling these were the somebodies he was supposed to stay alive for, and they'd apparently taken care of the danger, whatever it had been. So he no longer had to escape or get away.
He just stood among the prickly, harsh brush, still trying to comprehend which direction the light was coming from. Blinking slowly.
"Top?"
It took him a minute to realize the voice was no longer buzzing in his ear. It took him even longer to register the hand on his shoulder. Or the blurry face in his peripheral.
"Fuck."
His brow dipped, catching the hint of anger and worry in the other's voice. He wanted to ask, but he couldn't really piece together the letters to make a word.
"McG, you better hurry it up."
Hands touched his neck. His face. Grazing over his ear.
"What the hell happened to you?"
He shook his head a little, his voice lost.
Gentle hands undid his helmet strap, pulling it off his head. "Shit."
That tone again. Fiery but worried.
He could feel her fingers probing his skull, and he felt a strange wetness in his hair as a breeze moseyed past.
"Were you near the blast?"
He blinked. Blast? What blast? He couldn't remember.
"You doing okay? You seem really out of it."
He didn't respond. Was he out of it? Is that why simple thinking seemed so difficult?
"McG, pick it up."
"I'm coming. I'm almost there," came a tinny, breathless voice. Adam had almost forgotten about the electronic, buzzy words in his ears. It was sometimes hard to hear over the pulsing ringing that stretched indefinitely.
"I'm here, I'm here."
Adam couldn't tell who else had arrived. He was putting all his focus on staying upright. The daylight seemed just a little too bright. And the ground felt like waves of terrain, even though he was standing still.
"Top, can you hear me?"
Adam managed a small nod.
"Good. How does your head feel?"
"Fuzzy," he mumbled in response. More fingers pressed like centipede legs against his skull, finding all the tenderest areas. Adam winced.
The fingers stopped. "That hurt?"
He nodded. And grimaced against the flare of pain in his skull.
"Let me get a look at your neck."
The hands moved, and a vaguely familiar figure shifted into his field of vision. He felt the same fingers, comfortingly cupping his neck, as the figure closely inspected Adam's throat. "Damn. Did someone strangle you?"
Adam closed his eyes, breathing deeply. "Dunno."
"Must've hit your head pretty hard, huh?" There was a slight pause as those same hands steadied his head. "Looks like a pretty nasty concussion."
The blond didn't say anything, still trying to comprehend what was happening.
"Anything else hurt?"
Adam narrowed his eyes, attempting to focus. "Leg feels weird." He closed his eyes, swaying a little as his balance wavered. The figure bent down, pushing away brush to get a look at his leg. There was a sharp intake of breath through teeth and a plop of a full pack in the dirt.
"Jaz, can you get him to sit down?"
The other person, presumably Jaz, put small hands on Adam's shoulders. "Top, how about we take a seat, huh? McG wants to look at your leg more closely."
With a huff of weary breath, Adam moved to sit away from the brush, stumbling a little as Jaz, then McG, helped him sit down.
"This is going to hurt a bit," McG warned. Adam frowned, wearily closing his eyes as his head drooped and bobbed.
Then there was a flush of liquid on his leg and a spike of sharp pain, splitting through his bones and muscles. He gritted his teeth and weakly jerked his leg away.
"Stay still, Top. I know it sucks, but I've got to clean the wound and stop the bleeding," said the voice . . . McG? Was it McG?
Adam tried to push the discomfort to the back of his mind, clenching his jaw against the jagged jabs of agony scraping against his calf.
"How the hell did we lose him?" the woman hissed. Jaz. He remembered her name was Jaz.
There was a sigh from McG. "There was so much goin' on, I could hardly track where anyone on the team was."
More discomfort. Soft cloth brushing against prickles of pain. A ribbon of pressure around his lower leg.
"What got him?"
"Looks like he got hit with some shrapnel. Didn't see any in the wound, but whatever it was got him pretty good."
Adam blinked slowly, working to clear the foggy blurs from his eyes. He could see smears of red on the edge of his vision, brushed across the familiar tan hue of desert fatigues. Had he been injured? He swallowed away the dust in his throat, wincing again at the ache.
"What happened?"
He knew that low timbre of voice. Was it . . . Preach?
"Looks like he got a hard hit to the head and a laceration to the leg," McG reported with a huff. "He's pretty out of it."
"Looks bad."
Top frowned. He was having a hard time connecting names to muffled voices. Amir? That sounded right.
"Top?" A large hand settled on his shoulder, familiar and warm.
"Preach?" Adam croaked, squinting against the sun to look at the memorable outline just above him.
The large hand tightened imperceptibly, offering comfort and safety.
But the world was sloshing harder against the sides of his vision, tilting and swaying as the colors steadily bled away, leaving only a gray imitation behind. The familiar, dark figure above him was blurring even more, melting into the background. Adam could hear his breathing echoing in his ears, harsh huffs growing louder than the steady ringing.
He heard a sluggish, muffled, "He's going down."
And then there was nothing.
-0-0-0-0-0-
McG barely caught Adam as he passed out, the blond's upper body nearly collapsing in the dusty dirt.
"Shit. He okay?" Jaz asked worriedly, standing awkwardly nearby, clearly itching to help somehow.
McG let out a huff, gently laying Adam on his back. "Hard to say. Guy's been through the wringer." He continued his examination, eyes pausing for a moment at the vivid bruising around Adam's throat. What the hell happened? "We'll just have to wake him up every now and then to make sure he doesn't have a worse head injury."
"Did anyone see him?" Amir asked, eyes darting around to his teammates.
Jaz shook her head. "Couldn't see anything through all the smoke."
"I lost sight of him pretty early," Preach admitted.
McG just shook his head in answer.
Frustrated, Amir let out a harsh sigh. "How's his leg?"
"Pretty deep slice, but it doesn't look like it hit anything vital," McG answered. "I'd say our man's pretty lucky." He carefully inspected the rest of Adam, looking for blood or signs of damage.
"—ello? Anyone? Status?"
Noah's voice buzzed in their ears, and the medic couldn't help but let out a relieved breath. "'Bout time."
"The blast must've messed with the long-distance signal somehow. We just got audio—still working on a visual," Noah reported quickly. Almost nervously. "Is everyone okay?"
"Four out of the five," Preach answered, his voice somber. "Top got roughed up a bit."
"McGuire?" Patricia's smooth voice came over the line, controlled and tight but questioning. Almost pressing.
"Took a nasty hit to the head. Was pretty confused before he lost consciousness. Between that and this cut to his leg, he's not going to be walking anywhere by himself," he hinted, leaning back on his haunches as his stare lingered on Adam.
"Don't worry; chopper's on its way to you as we speak." She was unbelievably calm. Cool. Collected. "How severe are Dalton's injuries?"
McG huffed. "Right now, not very. Unless something changes, he'll just have a lingering headache and a sore throat. Well. And probably crutches."
"Good to hear."
Was that a smile in her voice?
A familiar pulse of airy noise seemed to echo around them, steadily growing closer. A chopper. Their escape.
As it moved to land, the force of the propellors kicked up dust, spraying it into their faces and over their fatigues.
"Let's get the hell out of here," Jaz growled.
-0-0-0-0-0-
Waking up was muffled and muddled, but strangely, it was so much clearer than before. Adam's thoughts were sharper. His memories easier to grasp.
He blinked against the bright white in his vision, taking stock of his body as he quickly realized he was in a hospital. Adam recognized the light feeling of pain relievers and noticed the grip of bandages around his calf. And there was a headache that seemed to engulf his whole brain, even through the fog of meds.
"Top?"
Slowly, he turned his eyes to the left, gaze falling on Jaz's weary face. Light seemed to halo around her head from the doorway, cutting painfully through his brain and forcing a tight wince on his face. Trying to ignore the agonizing light, he shifted a little on his mattress, regarding her more closely.
"Jaz?"
She remained frozen in her seat, simply staring at him with large eyes. "Do you remember where you are?"
His brow furrowed at her wording. "I wouldn't say I remember . . . but it sure looks like a hospital." His voice was brittle and grating yet soft.
Jaz's face fell.
"Do you remember anything?"
His brows dipped further. "I remember being out in the desert. I remember . . . getting pelted with RPGs. Someone coming behind me . . . And I remember trying to get away." He paused, attempting to recall more details. "It's not . . . It's not entirely clear, but I have pieces."
The expression on Jaz's face brightened in pleased surprise. "Do you remember who found you first?"
Adam's confusion multiplied. "You did."
She smiled.
"Damn, it's nice to have you back."
"Was I out that long?"
Jaz shifted a little in her seat, crossing her legs. "You weren't entirely there when we found you. Kind of creepy, actually."
The light from the doorway seemed to blaze brighter and he squinted harshly against it. Adam reached a weak hand to his head, fingers brushing along a neat row of stitches. "Yeah, I think I remember some of that."
Her eyes narrowed, and she glanced behind her. "Is the light bothering you?"
"What?" he croaked, thrown off by the burning brightness.
Without a word, she stood, briefly exposing the entire doorway of light as she walked around her chair. He flinched away from it, turning his head to try and minimize the pain, but then it was dimmed again as Jaz almost completely eclipsed it, making her way to the door.
She closed the door, shutting away all the light to leave only the steady dimness of the room.
"Better?"
Adam frowned in confused relief. "Uh . . . yeah."
"Still not quite yourself, huh?" Jaz asked, taking up her perch again with a drop into her seat. "Doc says you took a bad blow to the head."
He swallowed, grimacing against the heavy ache in his throat.
"Hey."
Blinking, he looked to Jaz, perplexed by the somber look on her face.
"You sure you don't remember all the details?" Her gaze dropped for a second and she fidgeted in her seat. "Like who might've attacked you or anything?"
He thought about it for a moment, catching only bleeding smears of images in his head. Nothing was clear. He couldn't put the bits in order.
"No," he muttered. "It's still kind of . . . murky."
She offered a slow nod in response, watching him warily. "The guys are grabbing a shower and a nap, so . . . maybe you should rest some more."
Adam considered it carefully, trying to think past the throbbing in his head. He was tired. Weary. He sank against his pillows, relishing in the soft support against his back and head. "Yeah, that's not . . . not a bad idea," he grumbled, wincing against a particularly painful ache in his head.
Strangely, it didn't take long to fall asleep.
-0-0-0-0-0-
He couldn't breathe.
There was a tight line across his throat, crushing his windpipe as he hopelessly wheezed for oxygen. But he couldn't draw in a breath.
He struggled desperately against the weight on his neck, attempting to pull at the band of fabric. Spots were speckling his line of vision.
Frantic, he threw an elbow back, catching neat rows of ribs behind him.
Then he was free.
He inhaled desperate gulps of oxygen, breathing past his raw, battered windpipe.
That's when it hit.
There was a plume of sand and fire beside him, and a rush of force and heat threw him off his feet. Something sliced up his shin, sparking a wild cry of pain from him, and he was mercilessly ground against the dusty earth as something connected with his head.
All he could do was lay there, washed over by sharp edges of pain. His head felt scrambled. His leg felt . . . off.
But he still couldn't seem to catch his breath.
He just couldn't breathe.
"—Top."
Adam startled awake, already reaching for his bruised throat as he gasped for air. Even though the pain wasn't as fresh, he could still feel the taut pressure against his neck, depriving him of oxygen.
It felt so real. Like he was still there.
"Hey, hey."
Jaz?
"Just breathe, okay? That's it. Just breathe."
His wild eyes sought hers, finally finding familiar brown in the dim lighting of the room.
"You good?" she asked, a sharp note of worry behind the casual inquiry.
He nodded slightly, wincing when it jostled and reawakened his headache.
"Bad dream?"
He risked another small nod, instantly regretting it as the pain rolled through his brain.
"Jus' gettin' . . . re'cqu'nted with what happen'd," he muttered, frowning a little as he closed his eyes. He'd forgotten the whole experience. The suffocating squeeze against his throat. The explosion. Getting shoved by the force of the blast.
He breathed deeply, compartmentalizing the images and feelings into their proper places. Igniting his coping mechanisms.
Beside him, Jaz sat patiently, as if familiar with the process herself. They said nothing, and Adam managed to push away the memory and the gurgling feelings in his chest. He stepped into his lighter half, focusing on resiliency and the blessing of survival.
Sure, it could've been close. But he'd made it out alive.
For that, he could be grateful.
And it gave him something to use when he felt the crushing pressure of a phantom stranger's arm. Something to focus on.
He huffed, taking hold of the present and clawing heatedly to the surface. And he felt the calm, dim light of room envelop him, drowning out the unpleasant memories. Jaz's presence grew bolder, brightening as he came back to himself.
Feeling more at ease, he looked to Jaz, tracing her outline. Then he smirked slightly, falling into routine. Into the comforting questions that always accompanied a hospital stay. "When can I get outta here?"
Jaz smiled, leaning forward in her seat with a glimmer in her eye. "Well, they've gone with 'soon,' which we all know is never soon enough."
Adam managed a small breath of laughter, looking to bulky shape of an injured leg beneath the sheets.
It would take some time to heal completely—as well as teach the violent memories to stay in the right pockets.
But this was a start.
Fin.