"Are you an angel?" Jake murmured a few hours later. Pooch and Clay were still in Corporal Jensen's room, now joined by Cougar. The sniper had been sitting next to the hospital bed this whole time, eager to thank the man who'd saved his friend. Jake was blinking up at him sluggishly, staring up into the long haired silhouette that was backlit by the fluorescent lighting.

"Not quite," Cougar chuckled, leaning back in his seat.

"Hey man, how you feeling?" Pooch asked, walking over to the other side of the bed.

"Um, okay, I think. What's going on?" Jake replied, rubbing at his eyes a little.

"You fell asleep on us earlier, but we didn't want to leave you alone," Pooch explained, moving around the pillows so Jake could prop himself up more comfortably.

"Really?" Jake said in confusion.

"Why do you sound so surprised?" Pooch asked.

"It's just, no one's really cared enough to stick around before. I once broke my leg on a mission and my team didn't even help me get back to the evac point," Jake laughed, stopping when he noticed Pooch's stricken look. "What's the matter?"

"How can you laugh about something like that? That's despicable!" Pooch shouted, turning away in anger.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you," Jake whispered, looking around the room for help. Cougar put his hand on his arm, gaining his attention.

"He's not angry at you, but for you," he explained.

"But why? I'm fine, see," Jake replied, gesturing down at his body.

"What happened to you is not right," Cougar insisted. "That is not how things are supposed to work."

"It is in my experience. I'm pretty sure you guys are the exception," Jake chuckled sadly, looking down at his lap.

"We really aren't," Clay said, finally joining the conversation.

"Man, you guys are really hell-bent on forcing me to admit that I'm the problem," Jake mumbled, blushing in reaction to what he saw as negative attention.

"Listen to me," Clay commanded, only using a bit of his military voice. "That isn't how things are supposed to go around here. You're supposed to be able to depend on your team, no matter what."

"Yes sir," Jake said robotically. "You really don't have to worry about it though. I don't even have a team at the moment, so no one to deal with." Clay made a mental note to look into Corporal Jensen's history. He may not be on his team, but Clay never liked to hear about soldiers mistreating their own. Razzing was one thing, but outright risking someone else's life during a mission was unacceptable.

"Seems like the drugs are pretty much out of your system," Pooch noted, stepping back to the bed now that his anger had dissipated.

"I guess, yeah," Jake nodded, looking around at the three of them. "You probably don't need to hang around anymore. You've really done more than enough."

"What are your orders currently?" Clay asked, ignoring Jake's last statement. They weren't going to leave the kid until they knew he would be okay.

"The brass keeps trying to throw me back into the tech pool, but they can't just strap me to a desk. I did all the shit training to avoid that. But they said they are still looking for a team willing to take me," Jake explained, becoming more animated as he went along. "Which, I don't know why it's so hard to find a spot for me. I thought I was finally out of high school, but everything is still one big popularity contest. At least now I'm too big to fit into a locker."

"What happened with your last team?" Pooch asked.

"Oh, you know how it goes. People grow, people move on. It's actually not that bad moving around from place to place. You get to meet a lot of new people that way and hey look, it had me here at the perfect time to help you guys out," Jake babbled.

"What happened with your last team?" Clay asked, making it clear the question was coming from a superior this time.

"It just didn't work out," Jake responded quietly.

"How so?"

"Did you know a shattered orbital socket takes longer to heal than a hairline fracture in a knuckle bone? I helped one of my last teammates find that out, but he didn't really appreciate it."

"And why did you do that?"

"He decided to teach me how to get out of an active combat zone after all of my firing pins had mysteriously disappeared."

"Holy shit," Pooch muttered, running a hand down his face. Cougar was muttering Spanish under his breath and Clay knew enough of the language to understand it was decidedly unhappy.

"That's attempted murder," Clay ground out, shaking his head in disgust. "What happened to him?"

"He pretty much got a slap on the wrist while I got kicked off the team and a lecture about checking my firearms before going out into the field. I got out of the mission unscathed, so no harm, no foul, right?" Jake said brightly, in a way that Clay could tell was forced and practiced.

"Jesus, kid, how can you stand it? I would've discharged after all that shit," Pooch muttered.

"I don't really have anything to go back to. I mean, there's my sister, but I don't want to ruin our relationship by exposing her to me too much. I could just go off on my own, but that sounds totally depressing. Less chance of getting killed, but where's the fun in that?" Jake chattered, wincing when he looked up and noticed the looks on their faces. "Wow, I think this drug is messing with my filter a bit. I'm not usually so chatty. Well, that's not true, and I don't want to lie to you, since you've been so nice. But you can tell me to stop if I get too annoying. Most people don't have a problem doing that, or just throwing something at me. But if you could just tell me verbally, no matter how harsh, that would be better. I don't really want to bust any of my stitches. How many did they put in there anyway? I kind of lost count in the middle there, when they were holding me down. It was kind of a blur-"

"Calmate," Cougar said softly, putting his hand on Jake's arm. The kid was practically vibrating with pent up energy and his rambling was verging on manic. If this wasn't the drugs, maybe escaping the Army with his life was the best choice for him.

"I like your hat," he blurted out, gnawing on his bottom lip.

"I like it as well," Cougar replied, tipping it politely.

"Can we talk about something else?" Jake asked.

"While you were asleep, I did a little research on my new sat phone," Clay started, pitying the kid enough to listen to his request.

"High off your ass and you still knew more than our new tech," Pooch snorted.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to cause problems on your team," Jake mumbled.

"The ink isn't even dry on his transfer paperwork, so it's really no big loss. Just means we won't be heading out on a mission as soon and we'll be stuck in the barracks for a while longer," Clay grunted, snarling a little at the time he wasted on the paperwork for Welch. It was one thing to find out a person didn't mesh well with your team and another for them to not be able to do their job properly. In their line of work, that kind of stuff got you killed.

"I thought your kind of team usually got their own houses?" Jake asked in confusion. "Now it makes a bit more sense why you guys are still here. This room isn't great, but anything is better than the barracks. I sure as hell am not looking forward to going back there."

"We told you why we're in here, so cut that shit out," Clay demanded, sick of hearing the constant self-deprecation. "And we do have a house, but we're waiting for the orders to go through for it to get fumigated."

"Taking forever, just like everything else on this damn base," Pooch groaned.

"I could probably help you with that," Jake offered.

"How's that? You know how to get rid of bugs?" Pooch questioned.

"Electronic ones? Yes. The creepy crawly kind? No. All I'd need is a laptop," Jake shrugged. Pooch darted over to the bag in the corner, digging out the laptop Cougar had brought so Clay could look into the kid's claims on the phone.

"Pooch," Clay warned.

"Don't act like you don't want to be back in the house. I miss my bed. And privacy," Pooch whined.

"It's really no big deal and I owe you guys," Jake said, making grabby hands at the computer. Clay wasn't sure how Jake had decided that he owed them, when he was the one who saved Pooch from a bullet, but that was an issue for another time. "Oh my goodness, this thing is pathetic. I don't mean to offend you, but I could build a better machine than this in my sleep."

"It's government issued," Clay grunted. They'd learned to take what they could get and it had been enough to keep them alive so far.

"Any tech worth his salt would have souped it up for you. What's the point of even having this thing if you don't unlock its potential? Give me a few hours with her and I'll have this thing running like a dream," Jake murmured, letting his fingertips fly across the keyboard.

"This thing you're doing isn't going to come back to bite me in the ass, will it?" Clay asked.

"They'll never know you had anything to do with it," Jake mumbled, flicking his eyes quickly back and forth along the screen. "It was going to get done anyway, so no one will care if it happens a little bit faster. And if anyone kicks up a fuss, they'll have to answer why they think the chance of a more widespread infestation is the more desirable choice."

"If you can do this, why didn't you do the same when you needed new glasses?" Pooch wondered.

"The brass needed to be taught a lesson, you know?" Jake sighed, biting the inside of his cheek. "What happens to the next guy who gets ignored? Not everyone is willing to risk what I did, but basic needs have to be met. We're risking our lives every day, we shouldn't have to worry about stuff like that."

"I guess that makes-"

"Oh hey, you were actually listening to me earlier? Most people don't. Man, you guys are cool," Jake chuckled. "You guys are all set. The exterminator will be here first thing in the morning. I sent a note to the gate to expect them and have an escort ready to take them where they need to go."

"That's- you're incredible," Pooch grinned, giving his shoulder a friendly squeeze.

"Nah, it was nothing," Jake brushed off, ducking his head to try to hide his blushing face. "I could work on this computer a little, if you want? I don't really have anything else to do. No one actually told me how long I'm gonna be stuck here, or if they did, I don't remember. People don't usually have to stay long for a couple stitches, do they? The drug thing probably has something to do with my extended stay, but I think I'm well enough to sleep it off in the barracks at this point. Should I ask a nurse? I don't even have a call button, do I?"

"Dude-"

"No, you're right. I shouldn't mess with your team's stuff. It's one thing to set up a service for you and another to give your computer a complete overhaul. That would take too much time and I'm sure you'll want to move on with your lives once you see I'm okay, which I am. You all should probably get going anyways. I have no idea what time it even is. Or how long I've been here. Why doesn't this room have a window? Am I in a closet?"

"Jake-"

"Did you know claustrophobia is one of the most common fears? I'm pretty good with small spaces, thanks to all those lockers, but I do have a fear of being buried alive. That's called taphephobia, but it really should just be called normal, because who isn't scared about that? Hey, did you call me Jake? Most people call me Jensen, but Jake is fine too. I've been called a lot worse. This one-"

"Corporal!" Clay boomed, effectively ending the younger man's tidal wave of words.

"I'm sorry," Jake, or Jensen, whispered. "I think I'm just a bit tired. Would you mind leaving so I can get some rest?" Clay eyed him critically for a moment, trying to figure this kid out. He was obviously aching for some kind of a connection, but he didn't know how to react when the possibility of one presented itself. He must've been burned too many times in the past. Clay could relate, at least when it came to women. He wouldn't give up though, even though it would probably be the death of him.

"Okay," Clay agreed, ignoring the sharp look Pooch was giving him. They really did have other things they could be doing, like dealing with Welch, but he also wanted to respect the Corporal's wishes. He'd done enough for them that he could at least give him that. But it didn't mean he was planning on leaving for long. "We'll be back later, before you get discharged. Pooch will get his hands on some wheels and he'll give you a ride back to your bunk."

"You really don't have to do that, but thank you," Jensen murmured, nestling back down into the bed. Pooch shifted the pillows for him again, taking great care to make sure the other man would be comfortable.

"We'll see you soon, okay man?" Pooch said, squeezing his knee as he walked around the bed and toward the door. Cougar tipped his hat, then followed along after Pooch.

"We'll be back," Clay said, giving the kid one last look before turning around and walking out. Jensen was a bit strange, but they all were in their own way. His team was full of people who didn't seem to mesh well with others, but when they came together, it just worked. Maybe this could be another one of those cases.

Clay spent the next hour or so on paperwork, getting Welch taken off of his team. He didn't even bother finding the man and telling him to his face. The reason would be in the paperwork for all to see. Clay attempted to look for Roque, but gave up pretty quickly. The layout of this base was kind of strange and the man could be pretty much anywhere. He had a weird habit of being wherever the action was and Clay had had enough action for one day.

It was a bit earlier than he planned, but he found himself heading back to Jensen's room. It was getting closer to nighttime and he didn't want to wait too late and have to sneak back in. Pooch and Cougar were with him and they walked back down the long hallway and into the familiar corner. Clay carefully opened the door to the room, not wanting to disturb the man if he was still asleep. But he hadn't needed to worry about that.

"Son of a bitch," Clay sighed. The bed was empty and Jensen was gone.