0655 - Sao Paulo International Airport, C130 Hercules Cargo Hold - Brazil

The concoction of drugs and fluids Danny had given him had helped far more than Eric thought they would. While the headache wasn't entirely gone - unsurprising, given what Alpha and Bravo were in the midst of – it had receded enough that he could finally think clearly; and more importantly, he could actually try and save his men.

"Goyle! Any update from Bravo or Alpha?"

"Negative, sir! No one's answering their comms."

"Davis?"

"Someone's got the bus, and it looks like those same people are going after a group of kids; they've entered a hut Bravo went into earlier."

Eric joined Lisa at the computer, nodding absentmindedly as he watched five men leave one of the far buildings and run towards the bus, meeting two others and a dog that were leading the kids out of one of the huts. "Excellent. Where're we at with the Paraguayan's, Mandy? Their F-18's are going to be pointless by the looks of things." There was no reply, and he turned around – only to realise their liaison had her satellite phone jammed to her ear, her eyes were wide, and she was as white as a ghost.

Eric squashed the desire to let out a hysterical yet panicked giggle. It was the drugs eliciting that reaction. He was sure of it. "Mandy?"

"They've scrambled the jets," she breathed, horrified. "The Paraguayan President gave the okay to send them early."

He wasn't that far off the same feeling, if he were honest. "How long?" Mandy was visibly trying to collect herself, but his men didn't have that kind of time. By the sounds of things, they had no time at all. "How long?!"

His snapped question managed to shock Mandy from her panicked spiral and she gave him a nod, slightly more collected than she had been a moment ago. "How long have we got?" she barked into her phone, her expression darkening at the response. "I said how long?!"

Eric turned back to the screens, watching as the first group of kids boarded the bus. There was no way of knowing if Bravo had found the whole group, or only some - not to mention how many huts they were spread across - but he knew Full Metal would light a fire under everyone's asses to ensure they all made it out of that hellhole alive.

"Don't give me that shit!" Mandy snarled, catching his attention. "If you don't have an ETA in the next two seconds, I will make sure you're sent to the deepest, darkest hole I can find. I have twelve operators and sixty-three civilians whose lives are on the line. Your measly one will mean nothing if they die!"

He shared a look with Davis. Most would presume the threat was all bluster and intimidation, but he knew better. If Mandy said she'd do something, she'd make it happen. Whoever she'd just threatened had no idea that their career, not to mention their life, was teetering on a very fine edge; and given what was at stake he'd quite happily be the one to shove the person off said edge if they didn't come through with what they needed.

"Fifteen minutes?!" His head snapped around again, and he gave Mandy a disbelieving stare. "Are you sure?!" The reply clearly confirmed what her contact had said the first time, because Mandy's already pale complexion went even whiter. "Fifteen minutes confirmed," she told him. "Get them outta there!"

Eric snatched up the microphone, eyes trained on the new window Davis was pulling up as she tried to get a visual on the bombers, her fingers frantically flying over the keyboard as she searched for them. "ALL ALPHA AND BRAVO ELEMENTS BE ADVISED; F-18'S WILL NOW BE ON TARGET IN FIFTEEN MIKES!" Despite his best effort, he was unable to keep the panic out of his voice. "I SAY AGAIN; F-18'S WILL BE ON TARGET IN FIFTEEN MIKES! YOU NEED TO GET OUT OF THERE NOW!"

"All elements, look for markings on hut doors; kids are in tunnels underneath the carpet in the main room! There's three more to evac! Get 'em out, we're coming to you!"

The figures on the screen scattered at Jason's call as though they were pins at a bowling alley. Aside from the ones who were currently running towards the buildings, there was another group of four approaching the bus. If he were lucky, they were his boys. Still, it was best to check. "I want a headcount, Benji; tell me if we're short anyone!"

"Copy!"

"Mandy, make sure those pilots know not to bomb the bus; our guys are evacuating on that. Goyle, any luck raising anyone on comms?"

"Negative sir, still not responding," the man replied, frowning as he fiddled with one of the radio's dials. Mandy was busying yelling into her phone again as she relayed his order, so he left her to it. "They're definitely receiving; they wouldn't have scattered the way they did, otherwise."

"Sir, I have eyes on ten operators," Benji told him, not looking away from his screen. "They're all out in the open, but I believe the missing two are on the bus."

There'd been no calls, nor any visual indication that any of his operators had been killed, so he figured Benji's count was accurate. Still – better to be safe than sorry. "Stay on it."

"Yes sir."

"What about that group of four?" Goyle asked his colleague, pointing at the people moving in formation on the screen. "You sure they're ours?" Eric stood over Goyle's shoulder and peered at drone feed. The group he'd noticed earlier weren't moving like the novices the Hezbollah people had been, rather like a well-trained unit who knew exactly what they were doing. He was certain they were his men, but -

"They're ours," Benji confirmed, dispelling his concern immediately. "They're from the first group of four that broke off when Alpha made entry."

A lot had happened since then, and there was a chance that Benji had missed something. "You sure?"

"Positive," his Techie replied with a decisive nod. "If they aren't, they'll be taken care of soon enough."

The group in question rounded the bus and met the SEAL guarding the door. Eric heaved a sigh of relief when the men were greeted, rather than shot. One less problem taken care of.

He was about to try his team on the radio again when Lisa's tracking software chimed, drawing his attention back to the screens. She'd finally located the F-18's; although the fact she was muttering under her breath and typing frantically indicated something was wrong. "What is it?"

Rather than reply, Davis quickly stabbed her finger at the screen before resuming... whatever it was she was doing. Her program had displayed the tracking information of the jets – including their projected path, altitude, speed, and estimated time of arrival.

His heart dropped. "That's not fifteen minutes."

"No it is not," Lisa ground out vehemently, snatching the mic off the table. Either Mandy's intel was off, or the bombers were moving faster than they should have been. "Five mikes!" Davis warned, and Eric placed what he hoped was a grounding hand on his Ensign's shoulder when her voice wavered. "You need to get moving!"

No sooner had she spoken, then three of the kids running to the bus hit the ground in a way that spoke of only one thing. "Jesus Christ," Eric muttered, raising his voice so it reached the medic at the other end of the plane. "DANNY! WE'VE GOT AT LEAST THREE KIDS WITH GSW'S!"

"COPY!"

The wounded – please, please let them only be wounded – kids were dragged on-board, the teams quickly piling in behind them and then they were hightailing it towards the exit.

"That gate's locked," Goyle noted, the drone's imagery showing them the barrier blocking the way. Now that most of the hostiles had been eliminated, his techie had lowered the drone for better visuals. While he was grateful to have a better line of sight, Eric wasn't sure if he was too happy about what he was seeing.

"Doesn't matter," Benji retorted, not bothering to look away from his own screen. "They're going to blow through it."

The bus picked up speed, practically flying amongst the huts. As Benji had predicted, the driver drove straight at the gates, slamming into them without hesitation. The structure was unable to withstand the force of the blow and burst open.

"F-18's two mikes and closing!" Lisa announced, just as two men jumped off the still moving vehicle and sprinted to the Rovers. Eric looked at the screen and watched the numbers shrink rapidly. He grabbed the microphone.

"NINETY SECONDS!" He roared. "BRACE! BRACE! BRACE!"

It was like watching a game of cat and mouse; the bus scurrying to safety with the jets hot on its tail. When the first shell exploded the drone's camera was filled with a bright, blinding light that lasted far too long for comfort. "Davis!"

"I'm trying!" Lisa replied, practically slamming the keys as she tried to get the cameras to show her what she wanted. "I'm trying!"

The light in the camera continued to flash, further bombs decimating the Hezbollah base. At the rate they were dropping, there was going to be nothing left of the area except a whopping great crater.

"To hell with this," he muttered, impatience flaring. The jammers were down, so unless everyone on that bus had been killed in the explosion, there was no reason he shouldn't get a reply to his next call. "Attention all elements, this is HAVOC. Radio check, over."

Silence fell in the cargo hold; nobody moving, nobody breathing as they all stared at the radio. The atmosphere was tense, anticipatory – everyone waiting for some sign of life, but the radio remained stubbornly silent. His fingers flexed around the microphone, and he counted down from ten in his head.

"C'mon guys," Lisa muttered, cracking her knuckles in a rare display of nerves. "Come on."

Eric got down to six when the radio burst into life, and he let out the breath he'd been holding. "Havoc, this is Bravo 2. All present and accounted for."

A cheer echoed around the plane. Eric sagged against the table, sharing a smile with Lisa who looked faint with relief. "Keep that drone on them," he instructed. "I want a constant visual until they're clear of the area."

Lisa nodded, the drone moving before he'd finished talking. "Yes sir."

"Benji, contact the pilot." If the Paraguayan's had an issue with their C130 being parked at the airfield for several hours, then he'd happily invite them to come down and complain about their extended presence to his face. He was just itching to have a chat with someone about why those jets had been onsite faster than they were supposed to be, after all. "I want us airborne and at the rendezvous point as soon as possible."

Being onsite also meant he'd be on hand in case anyone in the Paraguayan Government decided they wanted to try and detain any of his men or claim the op as their own - there was no way in hell those bastards were going to claim anything, other than a willingness to sacrifice near a hundred people because of their own stupidity.

Benji nodded and pushed away from the table to use the internal phone. Eric dropped into the abandoned seat and activated the microphone once more; already picturing the glass of bourbon he'd be treating himself to the second he got home to help settle his well and truly frayed nerves. "Glad to hear it, Bravo 2. Give me a sitrep."

Ray looked around the bus, finger hovering over his mic button, unsure how best to answer. Blackburn wanted to know what happened? Well, he'd like an answer to that question himself.

It had been a close one; the F-18's dropping their payloads the second they could - and as it was, the shockwaves of the explosion had nearly knocked the bus off the road. In all honesty, it was a miracle they were still alive. "Jase?" He called out, looking over his shoulder at his CO who was slumped in his seat, a hand cradling his head. "Yo, Jase – you wanna take this call?"

"Not particularly," Jason grumbled. Despite his protest, he was already straightening in his seat. "Havoc, Bravo 1. Hezbollah camp and enemy hostiles have been eliminated. Twelve SEALs and sixty-three HVTs en-route to your location. Be advised, we have wounded."

"It's good to hear your voice, Bravo 1," Blackburn replied, sounding as relieved as Jason felt that they'd made it out alive. "Overwatch is coming back online now; are those F-18's of any concern to you?"

Jason looked further up the bus to where Sonny was still braced by the window, peering out into the dawn. "Bravo 3?"

"We're good," Sonny replied after a beat. "Jets are circling the camp. Might pay to make sure they stay there, though."

"Negative Havoc; they appear to be circling the target location. Request that you make sure they stay there." Jason grimaced as he shifted in his seat, his own injuries making themselves known now that the adrenaline was beginning to wear off. "We're going to find somewhere to pull over for an injury assessment. I'll radio when we have more for you, over."

"Copy 1, we'll get on the horn and make sure those planes don't move. We'll standby for your next update. Out."

"Alpha 1, find us somewhere to pull over," he muttered into his radio, breathing deeply as a wave of dizziness washed over him. Jason focused on what was happening around him, eyes spotting odd details and ears catching snatches of conversation as he did his best not to pass out.

Dawn was officially making itself known, the sun slowly climbing past the horizon and illuminating the smoke that filled the air. The bombs were no longer dropping, yet the smoke was slow to disperse; a grey, ash-filled haze distorting the red of the sunrise. Jason knew it would linger until the wind came along and carried it away, but for now everything was eerily still; a stark reminder of the carnage that had occurred only minutes prior, and how close to death they had been.

The early morning light that filtered in through the windows also highlighted the fact that the bus was crammed with people; the seats overflowing with students that were huddled together, trembling and whimpering in fear even now that the danger had passed. Not that any of them knew it had, he realised; between hauling them out of their prisons and herding them onto the bus, then the jets blowing the Hezbollah camp sky high, there hadn't exactly been time to update the group that they were enroute to a C130 that would take them home.

He made a note to do that when his brain wasn't trying to throb its way out of his ears.

Amongst the students, the teachers and program organisers were scattered about; their own fear evident by their expressions, but they continued to offer comfort to those that needed it – and unsurprisingly, most of their young charges did; the adrenaline crash hitting hard and reality slowly seeping in, leaving more than a few trembling and scared.

Alpha and Bravo were closer to the front; keeping out of the way as much as possible while also ready to react to any danger or requests for assistance. Right at the front there were three rows of seats that appeared to be empty, and it was there that he spotted Trent and Alex; so he knew without needing to be told that that was the makeshift triage station for the kids who'd been shot.

"It hurts," one of the wounded girl's whimpered, and Jason couldn't help but flinch. The pain in her voice reminding him so much of Emma that it took every bit of his willpower to stay seated, rather than go confirm it wasn't his daughter splayed out and hurting.

"I know," Alex soothed. Jason could see the medic moving around, but not the expression on his face. He sounded calm, which hopefully meant the damage wasn't too severe. "I'm going to give you some morphine, okay? That'll help take the edge off."

He missed the rest of the conversation when a knuckle rapped lightly against the top of his head, and he jolted in surprise. "Fucking ow, Ray," he grumbled, blinking away the spots dancing before his eyes and doing his best to breathe through the sudden burst of pain. "The hell was that for?"

"I called your name three times," Ray sighed, folding his arms over his chest, although the movement was rather slow. "And I used one knuckle to lightly tap your head. Don't tell me you're going soft."

"I've been shot, and making me jump made it hurt."

Ray leaned over to look where Jason pointed at his shoulder. "Huh."

Jason glared at him, unimpressed. "I tell you I've been shot, and that's all you have to say?" He asked, miffed by the rather lacklustre response. He'd expected a bit more sympathy from his best friend.

"Does Trent know?" Ray asked instead, and Jason was forced to slap his friend's hand away when he tried to touch his injured shoulder. "Don't slap me."

"Don't touch it, then! And yes, he knows I was shot."

"Good."

Jason looked at him suspiciously. "Good I was shot, or good he knows?" Ray turned and walked off, and Jason glared at his retreating back. "Asshole." One of the kids sitting opposite him giggled, then looked startled by their outburst. Honestly, he could sympathise. He gave the kid a smile, and the guilty boy smiled back, ducking his head in embarrassment.

"You got this handled?" Trent asked Alex, catching Jason's attention. He turned as his medic stood from his spot at the front, and he must've received an affirmative because Trent descended like a rubber-gloved storm cloud on Jason's prone dog handler, surrounded as he was by Cerberus and Alpha's 3 and 4 two rows ahead of him. "Your turn, Brock."

"Wait, what happened to Brock?!" Alex demanded, head popping up from above the seats. "Cane! Reed! The hell happened to him?!"

"Stabbed, choked, and dislocated shoulder," Cane replied, and Jason facepalmed with his uninjured hand. Brock never did things by half, that was for sure.

"You're telling me this now?!" Trent asked, horrified, practically diving on his friend. "For fucks sake, Brock!"

"Overachiever much," Sonny muttered, apparently in agreement with Jason's thoughts. The Texan sounded thoroughly unimpressed yet appeared more than a little concerned by his brother's state. "Could you not have picked just one?"

"Could you just not have been hurt, full stop?" Ray sighed, exasperated. "This is getting ridiculous."

Trent scoffed derisively. "You ask far too much of him."

"Go...big... go...home," Brock croaked, only to glower at Trent when the medic clipped him over the head. "Ow."

"That is the wrong attitude to have when it comes to injuries and you know it," Trent growled, wagging a finger in Brock's face. Jason smirked when one of the girls closest to the pair let out a nervous giggle. "I have told you, time and time again; health, good. Injuries, bad."

"Oh is that what it is?" Clay asked from his seat opposite Brock, feigning surprise. The blond's leg was stretched out in front of him as much as possible and a dirty bandage was visible through the torn fabric of his cargo pants. Jason rolled his eyes again, and quietly asked his SEAL predecessors what he'd done to deserve two walking disasters on his team. It just wasn't fair. "I always thought that was just a guideline."

"You are so full of shit," Sonny chortled, and he wasn't the only one. The kids closest to them were all giggling away, and it was then that Jason realised his brothers were deliberately ribbing each other in order to distract their younger companions and help lighten the mood.

Well, everyone but Trent. His expression indicated he was worried about Brock's state and wasn't really interested in joking around.

Hauling himself out of his chair, Jason carefully made his way down the aisle towards his medic, noting absently that the bus was beginning to slow. He peered through the windscreen and saw that the Rovers were parked up ahead. "Lang, come here a sec."

He waited for Alex to join him, and he looked between the two medics. "Injury wise, what are we looking at?"

Trent waved at Alex to take the lead, busy fiddling with Brock's side that Jacob was shining a light on. From what Jason could see, the wound wasn't too big; but that didn't mean it wasn't deep. He knew that wound, more than anything, would be cause for serious concern.

Something he'd be having a long talk with Brock about, once he'd recovered. They'd had the conversation about disclosing injuries once they happened, rather than when the danger had passed, before. Multiple times, now that he thought about it. Why this had to be a regular discussion, he honestly had no idea.

"Three kids with GSW's. Thankfully nothing life threatening, but I'd prefer we got them to Danny and his supplies sooner rather than later. We've treated what we can, but they've lost a fair amount of blood. I suspect scrapes and the like for the rest, but I'll need to confirm that."

He nodded, before bracing himself for the next rundown. "My team?"

"From the looks of the rest of you, Brock is the worst -"

"No surprises there," Richie muttered, smirking at Brock when the man in question cracked his eyes open enough to glare at him. He blew him a kiss and sniggered when Brock grumbled something incoherent under his breath. Even Cerberus looked distinctly unimpressed. Jason just shook his head.

Alex rolled his eyes but didn't comment. "Spenser's next; he's got a nasty gash on his leg from falling rubble that I've patched up, but it needs proper treatment. As for the rest of you, I haven't had a chance to look yet, but I know you've all got something wrong with you."

"They always have something wrong with them," Lochy sing-songed from where he was leaning against one of the seats, and he sniggered when more than one person flipped him off. "Can anyone prove me wrong?" The man looked at them all, his smirk growing wider when everyone remained silent. "Gee, funny that."

"Shuddup Hollier," Sonny muttered, his expression promising vengeance if he kept talking. Lochy blew him a kiss, and the Texan flipped him off. "Asshole."

Jason pinched the bridge of his nose. The day was nearly over, he reminded himself. Thank Christ for that. "We've got the Rovers, so let's utilise the speed that they offer. Who do we need to get to Danny the fastest?"

"The Terrible Two," Alex said immediately to yet another round of giggles. The medic turned to the group of kids and wagged his finger at them. "You laugh, but it's honestly a goddamn miracle they make it out of bed in one piece most days."

"I fell out of bed last week," Clay supplied, grinning cheerfully at the kids who were listening to the banter with wide eyes. "Sheets got tangled around my foot – I hadn't realised, face-planted on the ground and barely avoided breaking my nose. Stella thought it was great."

"You are a goddamn disaster, Spense," Alex sighed to a further round of laughter before turning back to Jason. "I want them with Danny sooner rather than later," he reiterated. "The wounded kids, too. Trent can take Brock and Clay in one Rover, and the kids and a teacher can go in the other. If anyone needs help, Trent can take care of it. I'll stay here to check you lot over, as well as my team, and I can check the rest of the kids for any injuries."

"Jase has a GSW to the shoulder that needs to be looked at," Trent told his alpha counterpart, pushing to his feet and stripping off his bloodied gloves. Brock's abdomen was sporting a neat row of stitches; something his Handler seemed less than thrilled about, if the way he was mulishly poking at them was any indication. "Sonny should be checked, too."

"You need to be looked at as well, Trent," Sonny piped up, edging away from Bravo 4 when he turned to him. "Your arm was all dangly, earlier."

"I wrenched my shoulder," Trent retorted, waving a hand dismissively. "It can wait."

Jason looked at his medic dubiously, and from the corner of his eye noticed Alex was doing the same. "Trent -"

"It's fine, Jase." The look Trent gave him was enough for Jason to raise his good hand in surrender. "I wouldn't have been able to do half of what I did before if it'd been that bad. It needs ice, and strapping, but we don't have any of that here. I'll be talking to Danny about it as soon as I see him."

The fact that Trent was willing to submit himself to Danny's care was enough assurance that Trent's injuries weren't dire. Despite being a medic, Bravo 4 was just as pig-headed as Brock when it came to his own injuries. Jason turned around to look at the teachers scattered about. It was time they got moving again; one last delay before they were homeward bound. "Alright. Who here has first aid experience?"

As it turned out, all three of the program staff had advanced first aid training – a requirement, as part of their jobs – which meant they weren't short of volunteers, or people who could help Alex if needed.

Lochy and Tom settled the three wounded kids in Tom's Rover with their minder, and Trent and Ray helped Clay into Metal's, with Richie assisting Brock, and Cerberus hopping in beside him. There was a very stern warning from Scott that if anyone so much as breathed a word about his driving, he'd be duct taping their mouths shut as he took off – then the SEALs were left to watch as the two vehicles disappeared into the distance.

Jason knew his brothers were in good hands, as were the kids, but there was still a strange feeling sitting heavy in his chest. One that he had trouble identifying, and he didn't like it.

Something in his expression must've given him away because Ray nudged him lightly. "They aren't going to drop dead between here and the plane, Jase," his brother chuckled. "Not if Trent has anything to say about it."

"You say that, and yet I swear they'll try just to spite me."

"Hmm."

Jason looked at Sonny and noticed that the Texan seemed genuinely concerned. He was almost too afraid to ask. "What?"

"You done anything to piss either of them off lately?"

The fact Jason had to think about it should've been worrying, but he opted to dismiss it as little more than paranoia. He was a goddamn Saint when it came to those two - Clay because he was new and still learning the ropes, and Brock because that goddamn handler could be vindictive when grumpy, and it was not a mistake he was willing to repeat anytime soon. "Not that I'm aware of."

Sonny waved a hand, a relieved smile breaking across his face. "Then it'll be fine."

Jason crossed himself and said a quick prayer, making the others all laugh, but he noticed they all said an "amen" at the end. Probably because none of them were willing to chance it.

Funny, that.

1030 - Guarani International Airport - C130 Hercules Cargo Hold, Paraguay

Eric looked up at the high-pitched horn, allowing himself a small, relieved smile at the bright yellow bus that was barrelling down the road towards them.

"Ah, right on schedule."

He looked at Drake who was sitting opposite him, also watching the approaching vehicle with a far wider grin than he had – but that was understandable, given the bus's appearance officially signalled the end of his last mission.

Once he'd offloaded Alpha, Drake and his crew had refuelled and transferred over to the airfield to join the other Herc the moment they learned of Eric's plan - and so the two C130s had sat on the ground in all their glory as they waited for their people to return. According to Harrington, the Paraguayan Government was spitting tacks over the fact they'd dared to park military aircraft – American, at that – on the airfield for so long when they'd been specifically told to be there for as little time as possible.

Eric hadn't cared. Nor had Drake, for that matter, and so they'd happily sat on the edge of the ramp as they drank their coffees and watched the sun rise, reviewing the intel Mandy's contact had managed to pull from the Government's servers while they waited for their operators to arrive. "A perfect outcome for your last mission," he said conversationally. "That's got to feel good."

"I couldn't ask for better," Drake agreed. "All HVTs alive and accounted for, and none of my team injured or dead. Pity the same can't be said about yours."

Eric rolled his eyes. "Compared to what Brock's had in the past, and what the evidence is already suggesting about Clay, these are little more than flesh wounds." He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed heavily. "Honestly at this rate, I'm going to have to make sure that for my retirement mission, those two are confined to barracks just to ensure nothing can go wrong."

"What?! You can't do that!" Clay shrieked, horrified. Eric looked over his shoulder to see his eavesdropping rookie on his feet, swaying dangerously. He couldn't help but roll his eyes at the betrayal on Clay's face. "You-"

"Sit your ass down," Metal snapped, shoving Clay in the stomach with his elbow and knocking him back onto the stretcher, all without looking up from his book. "Goddamn morphine junkie."

Trent, who happened to be on the opposite side of the stretcher tutted and grabbed Clay by the shoulder before the sniper could topple off the other side, using the momentum to shove the blond flat on his back. "Final warning, Spense," he growled, jabbing a finger at his brother. "Stay down, or I strap you down."

It was apparently the wrong thing to say to the drugged sniper because he was no longer pouting, but leering at Trent instead. "Meeeeeow, Trent," Clay simpered, now thoroughly distracted as he blew the medic a kiss. "You so kiiiiiinky."

"Confined to barracks," Drake agreed over Trent's threats of showing the blond just how kinky he could get if he didn't do as he was told, up to and including gagging, and the Ops crew's not so silent sniggers.

The kids were thankfully asleep and therefore weren't traumatised further by his team's antics, and the only one out of all the SEALs that was completely silent was Brock; and that was only because Danny had taken one look at him and knocked him out with anaesthetic to keep him still until he got home.

A quick check of the stretcher confirmed Eric's handler was where he was supposed to be before he turned back to his colleague. "With the door locked and the key thrown away," he added so only Drake could hear him. The LC snorted, and they bumped fists before abandoning the table and heading down the ramp to meet the bus.

Danny soon joined them, as did Trent and Tom, and as a group they watched the remainder of their group draw closer. "So Clay is…?"

"Under Metal's watchful eye," Trent replied, shaking his head. "Pretty certain he's looking for a reason to thump Clay upside the head; this gives him the perfect opportunity to do so."

"Rough ride over, was it?" Tom asked, a shit-eating grin firmly in place.

Eric was forced to bite back the laugh that wanted to escape at The Look that Trent gave Alpha 6. "You know full well it wasn't a good drive," was the mulish retort.

"What happened?" Danny asked curiously. "I was busy setting up the stretchers, so I missed the radio calls that came through."

"Metal and I had to suffer through travelling with two wounded and drugged SEALs who thought it was a great idea to play I Spy the entire ninety-minute drive here. At first Clay started it as a way to keep Brock distracted from the pain he was in, but when the morphine kicked in the pair of them were just egging each other on, and the volume and 'spied objects,'" the medic said, using his fingers as added emphasis "got louder and more ridiculous."

"They radioed me at one point, asking what I'd spotted that started with M," Tom laughed. "Everyone in my Rover tried guessing, but we all got it wrong. It ended up being Mars."

Danny blinked. "Buuuuuut it was daytime when you were driving? Mars would have vanished from the sky by that point."

Trent gave the other medic a flat look. "We know."

"Ah."

"Then if that wasn't bad enough, Clay flipped between the game and telling Metal that speed limits existed for a reason, and driving well over those limits was an accident waiting to happen," Trent continued, shaking his head. "Metal had warned Clay and Brock when they got in the Rover not to breathe a word about his driving, which Clay technically didn't, but he certainly didn't hold back on pointing out every issue he could think of that indirectly related to it. The only reason Metal didn't dump Clay on the side of the road was because he knew he'd have to go back and get him if we wanted to go home."

Tom and Danny clapped their hands over their mouths, yet still failed to smother their laughter. "You could have left him for the bus to collect," Danny snickered. "I doubt it was that far behind you."

"And risk a jaguar stumbling across that idiot in the meantime, or him suddenly suffering heat stroke while unattended?!" Trent snorted derisively. "Yeah, no chance."

Eric laughed and shook his head, knowing full well that that'd absolutely have happened to Clay if he'd been tossed out of the car, and both would have probably occurred at the same time.

The bus doors opened and Jason stepped out, waving in greeting. He waved back and headed over. "Alright, let's get these kids sorted and go home."

There was a flurry of activity after that. Alex had checked everyone over for injuries on the drive to the airport and had split the kids and teachers across the two planes to ensure a speedy departure when they arrived.

Within the space of an hour, everyone was aboard their aircraft and situated comfortably, the Rovers were tied down, and the two planes were getting airborne with their respective teams hunkered in their hammocks or on a seat. Mandy's Paraguayan asset was already on route to collect the bus they'd stashed out of sight so it could be driven back to Foz do Iguaçu for her Brazilian asset to collect and take back to the Outreach Program's base of operations.

Then, once they were airborne, the four remaining members of Bravo that hadn't been drugged fell asleep, their injuries and general exhaustion knocking them out quickly.

"At least no one's dead," Lisa said as she watched the four hammocks swing gently with the movement of the aircraft – all of which had been set up around the two stretchers that the younger Bravo members were laid out on. Danny was currently checking Brock over, but he didn't seem worried, which was a good sign. Cerberus was curled up between his handler's legs and watching the medic work, his tail thumping lightly against the thin mattress. "Given what they were up against, and the sheer number of hostiles and HVT's, we're damn lucky we didn't lose anyone."

"Tell me about it," Mandy sighed, slowly spinning her coffee mug in her hands. She glanced at the kids who were all in varying states of consciousness, and all – thankfully – very much alive. "By all accounts, there should have been some kind of casualty count."

Lisa turned to her friend, who was sprawled in the seat next to her, and noticed the faraway look in her eyes. "If Alpha hadn't been around, there would have been." And didn't that just scare her. Alpha was there by pure coincidence; if the dice had rolled any other way, Alpha would have been home by now, and she'd have been watching as her friends, her family, were slaughtered by a force far bigger than they'd counted on – helpless to do anything for them, or the people they'd been sent to rescue.

She slapped her hands against her legs to dispel the shiver that had raced down her spine at the thought. "But they made it. That's all that matters."

"Mmm." Mandy stood and gave herself a shake, grabbing the folder that had been left on Goyle's desk. "Luckily for us, this Hezbollah faction seem to have been acting of their own accord, rather than as a part of a larger plot, so we don't have to worry about any backlash for a while, at least."

Lisa hadn't known that. She held her hand out, and Mandy passed her the folder. After giving the contents a quick scan, she looked up in surprise. "Whoever was in charge down there didn't have time to get the word out about the raid."

"Exactly." Mandy turned and flipped the page over, pointing at a section Goyle had highlighted. "While I'm not naive enough to think they won't put it together eventually, for the time being, Hezbollah forces will believe that the Paraguayans were responsible for the destruction of their cell."

"And with the fighter jets bombing the area, any witnesses will only be able to report Paraguayan interference," she added, smiling despite herself. "Won't they just love that."

"We'll be keeping a closer eye on them, that's for sure." Lisa looked over her shoulder at Blackburn as he joined them, accepting the can of beer that he handed her and cracked it open, lightly knocking can against her COs, as well as Benji and Goyle's as they all sat down.

Then his words hit her. "I guess we're expecting backlash from the Paraguayan's, then?"

"Captain Harrington has just advised me that the State Department are already fielding calls about our illegal operations on their home soil and their demands that should be met as a sign of recompense." Blackburn rolled his eyes, making it clear what he thought of that statement.

Lisa shook her head. "Unbelievable. They're the ones who bombed the area in the first place – all we did was leave bodies behind!"

Blackburn raised his can to that, and they all mimicked his salute. "It seems some people just don't know how to say thank you, anymore."

1830 – Joint Base Andrews Private Airfield - C130 Ramp, Washington DC

Jason folded his arms across his chest and rocked back on his heels, waiting somewhat impatiently for the offload to finish so they could get airborne again and get home. He resisted the urge to tap his foot, but by God was it a battle of wills to keep said appendage under control. He was exhausted, he was hurting, and dammit - he just wanted his own bed.

"What happens from here?" Ray asked. Looking at his brother from the corner of his eye, he realised Ray's attention was on Blackburn, rather than him. "Where are the kids going?"

"While we were on route to Paraguay, the State Department visited all the families and brought them to a government building here in DC where they could all wait for updates on the situation, as well as stop them from talking to the media when the op was live, as that kind of attention could have made things harder for us," Blackburn replied quietly enough that none of the nearby kids could hear him.

Just like what was happening in the other plane, the group that had flown back with them were still gathered in the hold, their attention was all on the State Department's representative that was talking to them. "They'll be heading there to meet their families, and there's also some post-rescue stuff the SD needs to talk to them about. Counselling, signed non-disclosures regarding our operations, what's being released to the press, that sort of thing."

"Excuse me?"

Jason blinked at the unfamiliar voice and turned around, straightening from his slouch against the side of the plane when he realised there was a woman approaching. She wasn't one of the Outreach staff they'd rescued, but the logo on her black dress jacket identified her as part of the program all the same. "Ma'am. How can we help?"

Rather than answer, the woman turned and waved at Alpha to join them. The other team were milling around the ramp of their C130 much like Bravo was, and after a few uncertain checks amongst them that she was really trying to get their attention, the group wandered over.

"My name is Genevieve Cryon, I'm one of the Directors for the Outreach Program," the woman introduced herself, once the others joined them. "On behalf of my staff, and the students and teachers that you rescued, I just wanted to say thank you. Both for what you've done, and for what you continue to do for this country."

Genevieve's shoulders slumped slightly, and Jason could only begin to imagine what she and her staff had been through since getting the news that one of their groups had been kidnapped. "We take as many precautions on these programs as we can. We send students to some pretty rough neighbourhoods to make a difference, and while we and the parents who sign the forms know there's an element of risk involved, you never expect anything to happen. Certainly not like this, and certainly not to this extent."

She looked around them all, her smile marred by grief, and exhaustion. "You brought every one of our kids, teachers, and staff back, alive, at the risk of your own lives -" Jason noticed she was looking at Brock and Clay as she said this. Having woken an hour ago, the pair were propped up on the crates closest to the tail of the 130, determined to be upright to watch everyone leave, and they both gave her a woozy smile. "And I know a thank you is a pretty poor payment given what you went through for them, but you have it anyway."

"We were just doing our job," Ray replied, acknowledging her thanks with a bob of his head. "If we lived in a better world, none of this would have happened to your kids. I'm sorry it did."

Genevieve smiled sadly. "As am I. Our programs will continue, but we'll be investigating stricter security measures that we can implement to stop something like this from happening again. It's just... a pity they have to be considered in the first place."

There was movement from the corner of his eye, and Jason noticed that the group was starting to disembark. One of the girls broke off from the line and approached Brock and Clay, and while he couldn't hear what she said to them, the smiles on their faces, followed by the look of surprise when she hugged them both told him all he needed to know.

To his surprise, she came over and bold as brass thanked them all, before darting in to hug them. Metal looked like he wanted to flee when she reached him, and Alpha 1 resorted to patting her awkwardly on the shoulder, but the rest of his brothers gave her a quick hug and told her to take care. But then another student did the same, a young teenage boy this time, and then another, and another.

He honestly had no idea what to make of it, but then, their usual missions were rescues of adults, or body retrievals. Such displays of gratitude wasn't exactly something they were used to.

"Hey!"

Jason turned at the yell. One of the teachers at the head of the group had stopped and was facing the way they'd come with the attention of all the students and his colleagues on him. "How about a round of applause for the men and women who risked their lives to get us home?"

For the first time in his career, Jason was left utterly speechless as the group they'd rescued, as well as the State Department Staff and the Outreach representatives all broke out in applause, with all the kids cheering and yelling out thank yous.

He never expected thanks for what he did. Yes, he put his life and body on the line for them, and yes, there were times when brothers didn't make it home; but seeing innocent people go home at the end of the day, reunited with their loved ones, and being confident that there were a few less bad guys in the world had always been enough for him.

This, however... this he'd remember for a very long time.

Notes: Joint Base Andrews is in Prince Georges County, Maryland and is a 30min drive from Washington DC. This is where Airforce One departs from.