AN: I'm so glad SEAL Team is back with new episodes.
Thanks for all the kind words on the first part of this two-shot. Here is part two. I hope you all enjoy. :)
2: Stand by Me (Part 2)
Trent sat on the ground, leaning against the rock wall opposite of a motionless Brock. He watched his brother with careful eyes, watched his breathing, for any sign of things going south, which was very likely considering his condition and their current situation. Cerberus was laying close to Brock's side, protecting him, nursing his own wound. Bravo Four was holding a wad of bloody bandages against his side that had opened up again during his walk across rough terrain. He tried to staunch the bleeding as best he could, but between the three of them there wasn't much gauze left for him to use. Trent did what he could with what he had, but things were looking really slim.
By his calculations, Trent figured they had been separated from the rest of Bravo Team for somewhere north of five hours—which means that it has been north of five hours since they were attacked.
Five hours since Brock was shot…
Five hours since their chopper crashed…
Five hours since he pulled a piece of metal from his side… meaning that they had around three hours of night left.
The good news was he managed to spot a cave of sorts in the moonlight three hours ago. It wasn't very big, about the side of a standard American truck in length, deep enough to be hidden from passerby's from afar. He could kneel without hitting his head on the rocky ceiling, but anything above that was begging for a concussion. Thank goodness for helmets…
Between the gear that he and Brock had—man was he thankful that they didn't remove his pack when shit hit the fan—they could remain out there for maybe another day before needing to consider rations. But the state of their injuries would cut that down a lot… He looked at the mess of radio, upset that he still hadn't fixed it. But with the growing weight of his eyelids, he just couldn't focus on it any longer. Good 'ol blood loss, he figured. What wasn't going to be enough to stop him though. He just needed to rest for a little bit.
Just for a minute…
With his weapon in hand and ears attentive, Trent leans against the wall and closes his eyes.
When he first woke up, everything hit him at once. The smell of dry soil, foliage, the sight and heat from a small fire that was within arm's reach and the sound of wind. His chest hurt some, but it wasn't terrible. Moving his head to the left and right, he tries to gather his bearings some, spotting boot tracks and paw prints heading for… what looks like a cave opening. Or cave tunnel. Was it even a cave? It was hard to tell. Too dark. Hard to focus on that… hard to focus on anything…
He relaxes some and lets his head lull back to the side, the effort of keeping it in one position was taking a toll on the rest of his body. Nothing was adding up in his muddled head. He was tired. Had to rest…
When he woke the second time, the scene was different. It was darker than before. Or was it? It was definitely colder. He shivers, which causes something at his side to shift and move closer to his face.
…Cerberus?
"Someone's glad to see you awake." A voice says. He looks up a bit more at the man kneeling over him. He looks familiar… what was his name again? "Don't strain yourself so quickly. Just rest. Take it easy."
His mouth was dry. The man picked up on this, helped him drink water by holding his head. After having enough to wet his mouth, he manages to find the words to ask, "W-what…what happened?" and it wasn't aimed at his own needs. He could see dark spots on the other man's clothes in the dim light of the fire. He cared for this man… like a brother. He had to make sure that he was okay. Right?
"Don't worry about me, okay?" the man—his brother—tells him with a pat on his leg. His brother hesitates, just slightly, but it was enough for him to catch. "I'm going to put more wood on the fire, but I can't make it very big. Just enough to keep you warm."
Realization washes over him. Something was wrong…
"Hey… T-Trent?" he begins, trying to find the words. Cerberus presses closer to his body, burrowing his snout into his neck and shoulder. He doesn't want to say what he's thinking, doesn't want to say what he already fears, because saying the words makes it real. But he does anyway. "I… I c-can't feel my l-legs."
Trent looks at Brock, doesn't let his emotions cross his face. Instead, Bravo Four nods, continues to ignore the pain of his own injuries. "I know, brother. I know."
Trent reaches into his bag as pain crosses Brock's face and his breathing quickens. He didn't want to put him to sleep, but Bravo Five needed to rest for what was coming next. He gives Brock a dose of morphine and waits for it to takes effect, waits for it to knock Bravo Five out. He needed to rest, had already been through a lot. They both have.
"Anything new?"
"ISR of the area showed two persons and a dog leaving the wreckage but loses them in the mountains about two hours later." Blackburn looks up from the computer he has been staring at. "We haven't picked up any trace of them since.
"Trent and Brock? Cerberus?"
Eric shakes his head. "Can't confirm."
Hayes runs a hand over his face. It had hours since the RPG took out their chopper, hours since they lost contact with their brothers. To say that the rest of Bravo was anxious to get out there and find them, bring them back, would be understating things greatly.
But it was too dangerous to go out blindly.
"What state were they in?" Were they injured? And if so, how badly? If they were moving, then it couldn't be too bad. Right?
"I'm sorry, Jason. But it doesn't look good."
Lisa Davis stands to her feet, making her presence known to Jason for the first time since he's been in HAVOC—which has been since they got back. "Things just got worse. We picked up chatter that guards of the woman Ellis wanted to talk to are gearing up to go to find the wreck at first light. And if they find the wreck, they could track whoever walked away to the mountains."
"So, we start in the mountains, find their trail and get them out before that happens."
Blackburn is already shaking his head, not liking the idea, "Jason, we can't—"
"Our brothers are out there! Brock's got a bullet in his spine for god sake! And who knows what kind of state Trent or the others are in after that crash!" he shouts. No one in the room pays him any mind, use to reactions like this. Jason calms down a bit, adding, "It's gonna be daylight soon; if we don't go now, we lose the element of surprise on anyone who tries to track them. It's the best chance we've got, and you know it."
Eric did know it. Jason was right. "I'm not going to risk sending another team to watch your backs on this one, Hayes. The territory is just too rough…"
"We'll be fine. We'll get 'em, bring 'em back."
"Bring them back." Lt. Commander Blackburn nods, watches Jason leave to tell the rest of his men to gear up, though the chances of them ever taking off their gear was very slim. He could only hope that they didn't die trying.
Trent snaps awake and sits up when he feels something nudging him, pulling at his clothes. Once he recognizes that he isn't in imminent danger, his eyes narrow, landing on Cerb who is dancing to his side in circles. Then he sees Brock, who is awake and staring at the rock above him.
Crawling to Bravo Five's side, Trent places a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Hey."
Tired eyes and a half smile land on him, though for a second it doesn't seem genuine. "H-hey."
"How're you feeling?" This is the first time Brock's been awake long enough to talk since, what, a few minutes ago? Yes, just a few, short, well rested minutes. Now Trent needed to figure out the extent of his brothers' injuries.
A sincere chuckle passes through Bravo Five's lips. "Everything's… dull." He says after a few moments pass. "I can't… move my legs, just feel a dull pressure in my back."
Trent nods, pulling items from his bag and med kit. After giving Cerberus water in a collapsible dish, Bravo Four turns his full attention back to Bravo Five. He wants to ask if he can feel any pain from the wound on his left leg, but doesn't, not wanting to overload the man. "Okay, okay, that's good."
"That's…one word for i-it."
"I need to look at the wound on your back."
Brock sighs, coughing a few times. "Was 'fraid you'd… say t-that."
Truth was, Brock didn't want to move for two reasons. First, he didn't want the pressure to increase, because that would cause Trent to use more medicine on him rather than taking care of the wound on his side and arm and where ever else he may be injured. It would take a lot for Trent to admit that he was hurting, even if Brock could see the still growing blood stains on his clothes.
And secondly, he didn't want to move because doing so may not actually cause him any pain. And if he doesn't feel any pain, then…
He couldn't decide which was worse.
"I'm gonna roll you onto your right side, okay? I'll do all the work, you just focus on breathing."
Yeah, he could do that.
"One… two…"
As soon as Trent began to roll him, the one thing he was supposed to be able to do became increasingly difficult. He grits his teeth, tries to bear it, but his gasping is enough to get Trent to stop.
"Talk to me, Brock. What're you feeling?"
Once he was on his back, breathing became a little easier. "It felt…like something moved." He tells Trent between short breaths. His eyes remain closed as he says, "I've broken my ribs enough to r-recognize that feeling."
Trent sighs. He didn't want to risk piercing Brock's lungs in an effort to take a look at the severity of his back wound. He peers out towards their small cave opening, noticing how the darkness fades ever so slightly.
"You have better things to worry about right now, Trent." Brock says all of the sudden. "And it isn't me." He motions to the pile of radios.
"Not until after I take care of your wounds." Trent argues.
"You need to t-take care of yourself, find a way to reach the t-team." Bravo Five closes his eyes once more, tries to breathe through the pressure as it turns into pain. He feels Cerberus press closer to the side of his chest, comforting him. "Besides… I-I'm not going anywhere."
Brock was out cold before Trent could utter a comeback.
Jason and the rest of Bravo Team did double time through the Afghan mountains, led by Blackburn and ISR in the sky. After they located the chopper crash site, the team assessed the situation and reported back.
"The pilot and co-pilot are dead." Clay says after looking at the cockpit. "There's blood here in the back, a small trail that leads to the ground over there. And I've got a bloody piece of metal."
Ray nods. "Dog tracks by the two different spots of blood; Cerb dug someone out. Looks like he had help too."
"Found the medic." Sonny gloomily says as he comes up to the rest of the team. He and Jason did a radius search of the surrounding area, while Ray and Clay examined the crash site. "'Bout two klicks back that way."
No one wanted to breathe a sigh of relief just yet. They did not find Trent, Brock and Cerberus at the crash site, but that only means they are still out there in the mountains with hostiles hot on their trail. Dawn would arrive before long, and ISR in the sky they knew that the enemy already had a head start.
"Bravo One to HAVOC base, come in."
"Go for HAVOC base."
"That's a negative on Bravos Four and Five at our location. Looks like they got out, but there's a bit of blood here." Jason pauses, trying not to think about the state his brothers are in. "Send a team to recover the crash site; we're picking up the pace. How copy?"
"That's a good copy, Bravo One. You have a clear shot from your position to the mountains but be advised that ISR might lose you once you arrive." Lt. Commander Blackburn replies. "Medical exfil is standing by, just say the word."
"Copy that, HAVOC. Bravo out."
Bravo Team increased their speed into a moderate jog, renewed with a fresh focus to find their brothers. ISR showed that the hostiles have arrived at the mountains but couldn't keep track of them. Blackburn told the team that it was about the size of a small army, and if that small army found their boys…
They continued at that speed until dawn broke, slowly slightly as they came up on the mountains. Weapons hot, Bravo began their search, knowing in the back of their heads that they were on their own and that it was up to them to get to Brock and Trent and Cerberus before the hostiles did.
Sonny was the first to spot two armed men at the base of a hill. They were likely scouts but were preoccupied with other things at the moment. Clay and Ray lined up a shot, and the men never knew what hit them. Pressing forward, the team works their way through the hills and small valleys, looking for any trace of their missing brothers. When the all too familiar sound of gunfire peaked in the early morning hours, they knew that had to be their men.
The hours ticked by, bringing the first sign of daylight with it. Trent peered up from the former mess of wires at the sunlight that worked its way into the small cave-like area. He was nearly finished, knew he nearly had the radio in working order. He just had to connect a few more wires, would be able to contact HAVOC—
Cerberus standing up suddenly caught his attention. The dog, having previously been laying by Brock's resting side, was now standing over his feet in a protective manner, bearing teeth and a low growl that one would miss if it wasn't silent in the cave. Trent watched as Brock came to, noticing the change in Cerb. The two men share a look, both coming to the same thought.
Trent sets the radio on the ground, pick up his weapon and walks to the opening. He pauses, listens, doesn't see anything. Doesn't hear anything. He shakes his head, silently telling Brock.
"Somethings… somethings out there." Bravo Five whispers in response. He has worked with Cerberus for a long time now. They understood each other, knew each other's tells, knew how to communicate. If something caught the canine members attention, then it was worth checking out.
"Okay."
Trent walks back into the cave, mutters an apology, and painfully drags Brock as far back into the cave as he can. He then grabs the packs, the water and the extra rifle and Brock's sidearm so that everything is within arm's reach of the wounded SEAL. "I need you to twist these wires together, snap the cover back on top. It should be enough to send out a signal HAVOC can trace. I'm going to do a sweep of the area, try to find out what got Cerb's attention." He tells the canine to stay, wanting Cerberus to protect Brock while he was out.
Brock shivers, which did not go unnoticed by Trent. "S-shouldn't he go… with you?"
Bravo Four is already at the opening of the cave, weapon held in hand. "If he did that then who'd watch your ass?"
Dusk in Afghan was nothing new to Bravo Four. Once out into the sandy air as the sun continued to climb in the sky, Trent took each step with great caution. He looks around the area, doesn't see anything that tells him there are hostiles are in the area, but that doesn't mean he can't be careful. In fact, he'll be more careful because of it. Something drew Cerberus' attention, and he needed to figure out what it was, and take care of it if need be.
Trent backtracks down the hills, careful not to step on loose rocks or branches. Staying low to the ground, he looks to his right where he sees the wide, open, dry landscape and to the right much of the same.
That, and the small army of men heading in his direction.
And they would be on his location within a handful of minutes.
Going back to the cave, Trent relays what he saw to Brock, who had finished the twisting the wires on the radio but appeared weaker than when Trent left. He didn't bother asking if he was able to get a message to HAVOC, instead Bravo Four knelt beside Bravo Five and checked him over with careful eyes.
"Wha took… s'long?" Brock says through pained breathes.
"Dammit, Brock…" Trent trails off upon realizing that something was wrong and felt along Bravo Five's sides. Yep, it feels like part of his rib shifted…might have nicked his lungs which he was working on the radio. "I shouldn't have—"
Trent worries that the mount of blood that Brock has lost has already opened the door to delirium. He couldn't fight off sepsis for long, so infection likely already set in. The sight a fresh puddle of blood that seeped out from under Brock stained Trent's pants as he knelt by his side sent a fresh wave of fear through his body.
He only has a couple pads of gauze left. Without hesitation, Trent slides them under Brock, who didn't make a sound at being moved. He didn't have time to check the wound on his leg, and could only hope that he was able to buy the man time until Bravo came. Trent realizes that he's done all he can for Brock… now he just had to hold off a small army until their brothers arrived.
He heads back outside, begins climbing the hills away from the cave where Brock and Cerberus are hidden. He didn't want the hostiles to find him, so he went as far as he could manage while keeping a good vantage point of the area. Then he lay on his stomach, not even worried that he can't feel the wound on his side anymore, or the tug on his arm from where he was shot. No, the only thing Trent is focused on is eliminating the hostiles below.
Of protecting Brock and Cerberus.
With practiced aim, he lines up a shot with his rifle, breathes, and takes out as many men as he can before they can hone in on his position. When the bullets start striking the ground around him, he rolls away and goes to another location to his left, repeating his previous actions from behind a rock.
One after another the hostiles go down, but it seems after one or two fall, five or six take his place. Trent changed his magazine two, three times before pulling out his side arm and ducking for cover behind a boulder. He fights to catch his breath, does, then returns fire once more.
One of the hostiles bullets narrowly misses his head, strikes a tree instead. When Trent peers around the tree, he sees a man aiming an RPG. He fires one shot and the man falls quickly. He checks his ammo, only half a magazine left. He has a blade sheathed in his belt but isn't sure how far he would get before he was mowed down.
Just when he was getting ready to take aim once more, the sound of bullets coming from the opposite direction fills the air. He waits a beat, doesn't risk looking around the tree, until he is sure of what his brain is trying to convince him…
Bravo—
Movement from across the distance draws Trent's attention away from what was happening behind him. Instead, he spies two hostiles carefully making their way toward the cave… following something that speckled the ground.
Trent is on his feet, running faster, pushing himself to get there in time. He rides his heels as he slides down the hill, is greeted first with the sound of Cerberus being none to gentle with one of the hostiles, having pinned the man to the ground with a mouthful of the hostiles arm.
Bravo Four runs to stop the other hostile from reaching Brock. He quickly has the man in a chokehold, and is pushed back into the rock wall, soon after hears something crack. But he doesn't let go. Still the hostile struggles, not having yet run out of oxygen. Trent keeps the hold on the man, even as the hostile throws his elbow back into his injured side.
After a few seconds Trent and the hostile fall to the ground, with Bravo Four finally gaining the upper hand. When it seemed that the enemy would have enough strength to get to his feet and throw Trent across the small cave, Trent brings his arms around quickly, effectively snapping the man's neck.
They fall at the same time.
Trent pushes himself up and off the hostile, only to collapse again. Trent repeats this until he is by Brock's side. His shaking hand reaches up, searches for a pulse…can't find one.
Searches again…
…waits…
…it's faint, but there.
He exhales, pulls himself to his feet—painfully—with help from the rock wall next to Brock and stands in front of his brother. Cerberus has released the other attacker, who is either dead or wishing he was dead, and now guards the opening, protecting the SEALs from what else may come their way.
Bravo Four draws his weapon, not remembering ever holstering it, and aimed at the opening that Cerb was growling at. The bright sun turns into shade as figures step into the cave, too many to count. Their weapons are raised, and he is ready to make his final stand—
"Eagle, eagle!" reaches his ears, giving him pause. "Eagle… Bravo Four, stand down."
That voice, Trent knew it. He blinks, the image in front of him clears. "Jase—?" the name passes his bloody lips, but it isn't enough to make him believe it.
"Easy, Bravo Four." Jason approaches carefully, reaches out and takes Trent's weapon and tucks it into his waistband. He places a hand on his brothers shoulder, saying, "We got you."
Trent is wholly convinced now and returns the gesture that Jason offered. "Jason—Brock, he… he's not, uh—" he looks back as he brother, at how pale is he, how Cerberus refuses to leave his side, even as someone pulls on his collar. His legs can't hold up any longer. Jason catches him before he hits the ground.
"You don't gotta worry about him anymore. The medics got him now. Okay. You did good." Jason tries to keep Trent calm and talking, but soon it becomes too hard to keep Bravo Four awake.
Trent's breathing quickens. As Jason holds him upright, he looks his team leader in the eyes. He coughs, blood spilling out of his mouth. Somehow, he manages a smile and tells Hayes, "T-thanks for… f-for comin' for us."
Then he passes out, slumping forward into Jason's arms.
"They need to be intubated yesterday!"
"Start a line for both of them! Now!"
"His bleeding is starting up again… the staples won't hold."
"He's septic. Tell the OR to have all the O-neg blood they have ready for both of them."
"What's our ETA?"
"ETA three mikes."
"Cut that in half or these soldiers aren't going to make it!"
Bravo Team sat, stood or paced in the base hospital. When they landed, Trent and Brock were rushed into surgery, without a word from the doctor about their conditions. Canine handlers had to take Cerberus to the vet to get looked at himself, but the dog refused to leave Brock's side as he was wheeled from the chopper to the waiting OR. They didn't want to, but the lead vet had to come to the hospital and sedate Bravo's canine teammate because the dog was getting more and more aggressive the further Brock got.
That was three hours ago.
Commander Blackburn walked through the doors, not surprised to see Bravo sprawled out around the waiting room and hall. All eyes landed on him. He takes in the looks of tired, worn out faces. "Any news?" he asks, though any at this point couldn't yield good news.
"Not a word." Says Jason. He pushes himself off the wall, folds his arms across his chest. "Mandy get that lady to crack?"
Blackburn could tell that Hayes, and the rest of the team for that matter, did not want to know about the reason why they were in this current situation. They didn't care about her. No, it was more a formality. In reality, they all wanted to know if the blood spilt, their brothers' blood, was worth the cost.
"Nothing yet. Ellis will get something." The commander says. "You all go get cleaned up, get some food and rest. I'll wait here for the doc."
The protests began no sooner than the words left his mouth, but Blackburn had prepared for such a response. "That wasn't a request. I'll let you know any news as soon as I hear."
Jason finally nods, and his team falls into step behind him. All take one more glance at the double doors that separated them from Trent and Brock before leaving the hospital to get some rest.
Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.
That was the first sound he heard when he left the sweet comfort of darkness. He wasn't ready to open his tired eyes yet, so he listened, waited.
"…and then I finished tying off the stitch and cut the thread, but he told me that I didn't secure it enough. I argued his point, but when he started bleeding again, he just gave me a look and did it himself."
"Yeah, I remember that. He refuses to let any of us stitch him up; he's gotta be out cold or else he's gonna do it himself."
"Fine by me. I can't stand threadin' needles through another man's skin."
"Wuss."
I know those voices…
He hurt. All over. Breathing hurt, but he had help, could tell by the constant tickle that went into this nose. His side hurt, but he could tell there was something in place to keep the pain at bay. His back hurt… everything hurt. He could deal with the pain, has done it before. He wanted to open his eyes now, but he tried and it was much harder than he thought it would be. Why was this so hard?
The voices died away.
He was alone.
No, that's not right.
"Hey… I think he's comin' around."
Who's coming around?
…wait…
"Trent? You with us?" someone says. He knows that voice, can see their face in his head, just not with his eyes. Panic starts to creep in when he can't open his eyes. "Relax, you're okay. We're here."
"Take your time. We ain't leaving."
"C'mon, buddy, open those pretty eyes for us."
Time passes. One second or one hour, doesn't matter. He manages to crack his eyes open and is greeted with blurry images. He blinks, clears the images. Sees people he knows. Right?
"Hey, brother. You gave us a real scare." The man to his right says. Ray, that's his name. Trent looks at the other familiar faces, sees Jason. Sonny. Clay.
Someone is missing.
Everything came flooding back to his memory at once.
His mouth is dry and puffy. He knows the reason behind that but tries to speak anyway. Just one word, one name. He had to know.
"B-Brock…?" it's broken, but there.
Solemn eyes go back and forth from the man in the bed to the other men in the room. Finally, it was Jason who spoke up, knowing that there was no reason to keep anything from their brother. Especially after what he's been through.
"He's alive." He says slowly, but before Trent can relax, he adds, "But it's not good."
Trent stares at Jason for a second, processing the information.
And then begins to push the covers off of his body, trying to get his legs over the edge and onto the floor. Four sets of hands are grabbing him, gently pulling the injured man back into bed. He heard someone talking, probably telling him that in his condition he shouldn't be moving let alone walking.
But he didn't care.
He needed to see Brock with his own eyes.
Because the last memory Trent had of Brock was of him bleeding out in a small Afghan cave.
"I need… I need to see him." He says between gasps of air. He had successfully removed his IV, discarded the nasal cannula somewhere on the floor, but firm hands held him in place on the bed. Somehow the tray with a pitcher of water ended up on the floor with a loud crash. More people ran into the room.
"What's going on in here?" Lt. Commander Blackburn asks as he stops, looks around. He turns to the bed, sees Bravo team trying to hold Trent down, but the injured medic is putting up a good fight and the others clearly don't want to hurt him anymore.
"He wants to see Brock." Clay tells the Commander while pinning Trent's right leg to the bed.
A doctor arrives not long after, tells a nurse to get a sedative ready.
"Hold off on that," Eric says. He knows how Trent can be protective of his brothers, being the team medic and all. There is no way that man will rest unless he has visual proof that Brock is alive. "Can I get a wheelchair in here?"
"Lt. Commander, I strongly advise against moving my patient. He's only been out of surgery for a few hours, his injuries are serious and—"
"If you want Trent calm enough to get the care he needs, then he needs to see Brock." Eric tells the doctor. "And if there isn't a wheelchair in this place, then I'm sure one of these men with carry him down the hall."
Realizing it wasn't worth the soldier's pain, the doctor nods, telling a nurse to get a wheelchair for Trent. Once he was situated and ready with a dose of pain meds, a fresh IV in his arm and a new nasal cannula tucked under his nose, Jason pushed him down the hall until they reached the ICU with Sonny, Ray and Clay following behind.
"Trent, I just want you to know that you did everything you could." Jason tells him. Trent realizes that it must be really bad if Hayes it trying to comfort him before he's seen Brock. "This isn't on you. Okay?"
All Trent can manage to do is nod.
Jason pushes him through the double doors, down another short hall, and up to a room with a sliding glass door. This is when everyone noticed the prone canine on the floor of Brock's room.
Cerberus was lying next to the bed. Eyes wide open, as if scanning the area for any threats. After his own wounds were cleaned and he got some fluids, he threw a fit in the kennel. He didn't eat. He refused to rest. Only when the vet allowed him to go back to the base once Brock was out of surgery did the canine finally settle down. It was as if he knew something was wrong with his human. Which is why he had to protect him.
Trent lets out a shaky breath as he sees Brock in the bed Cerberus was guarding. He was too pale, to still. A tube down his throat was breathing for him, more wires attached to different spots on his body. Trent knew what they were for, but his muddled brain made it hard to think about those reasons.
After a few minutes of silence, Trent asks through pained breathes, "What have the doctors said?"
Jason really wished he didn't ask that.
Because he knew what to say, the words of the doctor regarding Bravo Five were burned into his brain, still rung in his ears. Trent deserved to know. Then they could get him back to bed, let him rest his tired, wounded body.
"Trent—"
"No, Jason. Just…" Trent shifts his body slightly, trying to get away from the pain in his side. "Just tell me. How bad is it?"
"The bullets were really close to his spine, just like you thought. They were able to remove one of them with few problems, but the second was… it's touching a nerve or something. They couldn't remove it just yet and—" Jason lets out a ragged breath of his own. "He's paralyzed. They don't know how bad it is, or for how long…"
Trent hears the words, knows what they mean and what Jason is telling him, but he can't believe it. Even when his brain tells him that was the likely outcome regardless of his actions.
Bravo Team sat and stood in the hall, looking at their brother, hoping and praying that Brock will pull through.
AN: So, I hope you don't hate the way I ended this. But I have a strong dislike for stories brushing over serious injuries (like regarding the spine, for example) with time jumps or not addressing it at all. This is the end for "Stand by Me", but I hope to do a stand alone fic about Brock and Cerberus as he recovers and works his way back to Bravo (if he can ;)).
In the mean time, I hope to throw on more fic at you before I go back to university.
As always, thanks for taking the time to read my stories. Follow if you aren't already and leave a review with your thoughts.
