This story contains self harm. Actually most of the plot is about self harm. If it in any way triggers you please back out now and go read another story. (If you lack one you can always read one of my two other SEAL Team fanfics.) just don't read this if there is even 1% chance of this affecting you.

Set somewhere around the end of season 1 start of season 2, I guess.

So this is a story I found hidden between my many other unfinished works. I promised a lot if you that I wouldn't stop writing fanfics for SEAL Team, so I thought you guys might want to read this one. It's not finished, I do however plan to finish and update it.

It contains self harm, excessive control of a subordinate and some of Jason's actions (most of them, to be honest) are seriously questionable and lacking of constant (not in a sexual way.)

Self harm is not a good thing and even though it's glorified here, it's not as good and glorious in the real world. One of my classmate have both of her arms covered in scars. We don't talk about them and we all just act like we don't see them (she stopped hurting herself longe before I meet her.) but I know she resent them and does everything to hid them.

Self harm is something that should stay in the fictional world. Theres enough people hurting each other in the real world.

If you have or are struggling with self harm I recommend you seek assistance to stop. Reading this fic will not provide you with the help and support you need, quit the opposite.

I got this idea when I was feeling masochistic (again not in the sexual way.) therefore Jason is rather controlling and there is a huge lack of consent.

I don't know anything about self harm. Except the few things they've told us in school and a small amount of research.So if I've gotten anything wrong I apologize, please let me know so that I can correct it.

This is a little darker and a little different from my usual SEAL team stories.

I apologize for any errors or mistakes.

Think I've warned you guys enough now, on with the story we go and thanks for reading (authors note or not.)

Clay Spenser has a tattoo on his upper arm. It's Bravo Teams logo; a wolf with a trident.

Clay has always believed that the only reason to get a tattoo should be if the motive meant something so important to the wearer that he or she was willing to carry it for the rest of there lives.

He didn't believe in half hearted tats or the ones you get in a shady store when you are drunk of your ass.

He can't help but smile, when he remember that time Sonny showed up in Bravo's cage room with no idea how he had gotten a green rubber duck on his left buttock. The guys had teased Sonny for days about it.

Clay couldn't help but let his right thumb stroke back and forth over the thin skin on his left wrist. Nobody was gonna laugh or joke about this tattoo.

..()..

Bravo team was nearing the end of their deployment. All six men on Bravo was sick and tired of the dessert scenery. The dirt and dust stuck to their hair and beards and attached itself to their sweaty bodies.

Sonny kept grumbling about how he found sand everywhere, when the others laughed at him and pointed out that they were in a desert and that there are sand and dirt in deserts, he just started complaining about the sun. And boy was that sun merciless, it was baking hot both day and night.

Trent kept pestering Clay about wearing sunscreen and everybody on Bravo and support kept reminding him to drink water. It was so annoying, he had to fight back a frustrated scream.

But he kept the screams and snarky remarks in his mind and thanked them nicely for reminding him. He just kept it all in, the anger, the hurt, the fear, the hatred, the disgust, the homesickness, the ever present tiredness.

Even when all he wanted to do was punch someone in the face. He couldn't allow himself to hurt his brothers or any one else in their little family.

Half the time Clay felt numb and the other half he felt like, he was going to be pulled apart with raw emotions. But he just kept going, like he's always done. He kept on running whether it was from his past, his emotions, the ghosts, the memories of dead people, the images of people he killed, men, women, children, the world or just his own goddamn mind. He just kept running.

And when he was to tired to run, either metaphorical or literally, he used a blade.

He didn't acknowledge what he did as self harm but he knew others would, so he kept it a secret. For him it was what got him through the day, just like therapy or booze. But he knew Bravo wouldn't see it that way, that Jason wouldn't see it that way. So he kept it hidden.

Covered the scars and marks, only showered alone, never changed with someone in the room, made sure the scars were healed before his next medical exam. He made sure to know when he would have to be naked or half naked in others company. Knew there were months were he couldn't allow himself the luxury of pain. He used his intelligence and brains to plan out how, when, where and how much he could hurt himself.

Nobody never noticed, nor suspected a thing. After years of experience he knew exactly how to hide what he did.

He also knew how little needed to go wrong before he was exposed and kicked off the teams.

Somebody walking in while he showered or changed, an unexpected medical check up, him getting hurt, Jason, Ray or Trent deciding to ignore his right to privacy and dress him down to look him over for injuries, him talking in his sleep or when he's drunk, or almost anything else.

One wrong move and he would be caught and pulled of active duty. Bravo wouldn't talk to him after that, he knew they would be disappointed in him and disgusted by his weakness. He had fought so hard to be where he was, to be a part of DEVGRU. It was the only thing he's ever wanted, his only reason to be alive.

He knew he was playing a dangerous game hurting himself like this, but he had no other options. It was the only way he could tame his mind.

Clay always made sure he didn't cut or hurt himself in a place that later could cause trouble. He knew that his brothers lives were at stake and if he made one mistake it could cost them their lives. That's why he never ever touched his arms or shoulders.

He was so careful with what he did and how he did it, he never got caught. Until the day he did. And boy how Clay wished he could just forget all about that day. But nope Jason had made sure that was impossible.

Clay had been off from the moment he woke that day. He felt depressed and down. Most of all he just wanted to go back to sleep and hopefully then when he awoke, it would all be good again. And he wouldn't feel anything.

Clay never really could decide what was best. Feeling nothing at all, except detached or feeling too much, but at least be feeling something.

The day went by in a blur of people asking if he was "okay", accepting his answers of "just tired", work outs, weapon cleaning, jokes and teasing from his team, briefings and a mission he barely remembers. Something about picking up some guy, one of Mandy's people said was bad. Involved with a fraction of some terror cell or something like that.

All Clay know is that the mission went after,m the plan and that's it. The only part of the day that wasn't hazed, was when he had stopped the HVT's car, by soothing one of the tires. He could clearly remember the relaxing feeling of seeing his target through the scope, breathing in, slowing his heartbeat, pushing the trigger, breathing out and reloading. But after that everything became unclear again.

A lot of things had been unclear lately. Clay used to have a good memory, but now he could barely remember what he did yesterday. Maybe it's just because he's been with Bravo for some time, gotten into the routine. Anyway it sure as hell made it hard to write the AAR.

Now Clay was sitting on the bathroom floor. He'd finally been able to take a shower. To avoid someone noticing the self inflicted scars, he'd waited to the rest of Bravo had left to get some sleep.

With a razor blade in his hand, Clay looked his body over. All the usual places were already covered in scars, most of them only a couple of weeks old. He was unable to find a spot to cut, that wasn't occupied by unhealed gashes.

Clay wasn't sure what to do. He needed to cut, but then he would have to cut somewhere he couldn't easily hide. Cutting his legs or shoulders could prevent him from doing his best in the field, and that could cost the life of his brothers. Cutting his arms would be less inhibitory, but he wouldn't be able to hide the lacerations.

Maybe he shouldn't do it. Just stand up and walk away. Go to bed.

No.

Clay eyed the razor again. He knew he wouldn't be able to settle down and sleep without the pain. Wouldn't be able to numb his mind.

Bravo team was set to fly home in two days time. When they got back they had at least a month off, nobody said he would have to spend time with anyone from the team, the next couple of weeks. Beside it wasn't like nobody would care enough to notice. He could always wear long sleeves.

So arms it is.

He found a good spot and brought the knife down. The first hash wasn't deep, barley drew blood but by god did it not feel good. A few cuts later and his mind was starting to slow down. Clay loved the sight of the small lines of blood running down his arm, loved the crimson color. He adored the burn and sting where the knife cut through his skin. Loved how-

The door opened loudly, dragging Clay out of his trance.

Fuck, didn't I lock that door.

Clay quickly scrambled to his feet, while racking through his mind in an attempt to find an explanation. He turned to see who it was, feeling his stomach drop and all the excuses fleeing his mind, as he locked eyes with Bravo One.

Clay looked wide eyed at Jason, as his boss stood in the doorway. Panic evident in Clay's face. For a whole minute or so both just stood frozen in their tracks, then they both snapped back to reality at the same time.

Clay scrambled to hid the razor-blade and his cuts, while he mumbled excuses and explanations. Not that it mattered much. Jason with his eyes centered on Clays, quickly made his way over to the Kid.

Without saying a word he reached for Clay's arm. Grabbing only air when the younger of the two quickly hid his arm behind his back.

"Let me see." Bravo one growled, staring daggers at the boy before him.

Clay slowly shook his head.

"Kid let me see your arm," Jason repeated, trying to grab Clays arm again, before he raised his voice and ordered. "NOW."

Clay straighten a little but continued to disobey his team leader.

Jason let out a frustrated sound. Worry etched into his features.

That's it for now. I plan to update within the next 2 months. (Not really encouraging, huh?) Anyway remember what I said about self harm not being good and to talk to someone about it.

Hope you can forgive me for writing this.

I also would like to point out that soldiers, cops, prison guards, intelligence agents, medical staff, firefighters and the like, are at a high risk of becoming alcoholics, drug addicts, suicidal or to hurt them selves, as a result of their line of work and the effects of have on them.

Yes I know that Clay have more then one tattoo or at least the actor does, please ignore that for the moment.

Goodnight.