Plot: a tag for 2x09, in which Bravo Four is just a bit more injured in the RPG blast and subsequent battle at the end of the episode. Trent Whump ensues.
7: Santa Muerte Tag
Trent told him that he couldn't get to his main aid pack when they were ambushed.
Told him that he only had one bag of O-neg blood.
Told him he wouldn't be able to transfuse anyone else should Bravo Team take any hits once El Lazo's men found them holed up in the church.
But Jason told Trent to transfuse Lazo because he had information as to where Doza is hiding. Without Lazo, they had no way of getting to Doza, which means that Bravo would be back at square one. And Hayes wasn't willing to leave that church empty handed.
When Jason saw Trent go down after the wall next to him exploded, he acted, taking aim at the fighters that trickled into the church. Hayes grabbed his brother by the back of his shirt and vest, pulled him across the sanctuary floor towards anything that resemble cover.
Glass around them shattered, bullets peppered the walls and pews. Bravo One saw men approaching him, fired his weapon before they could make it inside. Behind him he heard Bravo Four still trying to get to cover and when the smallest of lulls came, Jason began to drag Trent towards a back room.
He wants to ask if his brother was hit, if he was okay, but Jason realizes that he is needed back out in the fight and leaves Bravo Four half sprawled in the back room.
Trent pulls himself the rest of the way behind cover, his injured leg kept straight and the other propelling him across the floor. He had just pressed his back against the wall, when Davis' voice comes through comms.
"All stations, be advices, I see two enemy combatants outside the north entrance of the church."
Trent, realizing he is at that location, turns towards the door just as two men appear. He raises his weapon and takes out the first fighter before they could get a shot off. The second, however, was quicker on the trigger and Trent soon felt a burning pain erupt over his left side.
He grits his teeth and fires at the second combatant, aim true as his bullet finds its target center mass. Bravo Four lets out a shaky breath, waits a beat to see if there were any others, even if Davis said there were just the two. Only after making sure that there were no more fighters coming towards him did Bravo Four lower his weapon, letting it fall to his lap.
Just breathe, he thinks to himself as he began to self-diagnose how bad his injuries were. He could feel the sting on his leg, the growing puddle of blood beneath him and his vision was going in and out of focus. Bringing his hand up to key his comms was hard and he felt as if the humid Mexican air had suddenly turned frigid.
He hardly had the strength to move and lacked the strength to talk to his brothers even if he could press the button for his comms. And he was cold. So cold. Going into shock... not now… not now…
It felt like an eternity had passed, between Trent trying to hold on and the gunfire that continued to fill the church, before the bullet finally stopped.
Somehow, the medic's bloody fingers fouund the button for his comms once more, but he couldn't get his voice to work. He couldn't get his mouth to form the words his brain was screaming at him to produce at that moment, was instead given a copper taste in his mouth.
"…caught in the blast. I pulled Bravo Four in this back room for cover." That's Jason. Trent can hear him talking down the hall. He lets out a ragged breath, tries to stay awake. "Davis said there were two combatants heading for the north entrance, but I haven't heard from him since."
Trent could feel his eyes drifting shut when all of the sudden he was being roused from the approaching darkness. Groggy eyes land on the worried face of Jason Hayes, who is now kneeling by his side.
"Nonono, stay awake, Trent. Trent! Hey! Stay awake!" Jason says. "Trent?"
Without being prompted, Brock and Ray give their team leader a hand in moving their brother, so he is laying on floor. Then they look at his wounds.
"He's got shrapnel all along his lower left leg." Mutters Ray as he pulls out a belt and uses it as a tourniquet.
"GSW to his left side, just above his hip. No exit wound..." Brock replies as he assesses his brothers' injuries. He ignores the fact that he is kneeling in the pool of blood, tries to remain focused as he presses a towel to Trent's side and checks for additional injuries. "He's lost a lot of blood." He says, though his eyes add 'I don't know if he's gonna make it back to base.' Those unspoken words were aimed at Jason, who was on Trent's right, trying to keep him awake.
All of the sudden, Hayes regretted ordering Bravo Four to give Lazo their only bag of O-negative blood.
"Eric!" shouts Jason, ignoring the formalities of the field. Blackburn turns the corner, is welcomed with the awful sight of one man down and three others nearly covered in blood and dirt. "Exfil! Now!"
"Make a path!" the commander shouts as Bravo gathers around Trent and carry him to a waiting van.
Clay and Sonny turn their heads at the change in tone of Lt. Commander Blackburn's voice, each wondering what caused it. When they see Jason and Ray carrying Trent, with Brock in the middle holding a soaked towel to the injured SEALs side and Eric following close by with gear, they spring into action.
"What the hell happened?"
Jason and Sonny carefully place Trent into the waiting van.
"Caught shrapnel, GSW to his side."
The others pile into the van and the vehicle lurches forward back to base before the door slams shut.
"There's still too much blood! I need another towel!" shouts Brock as he fights to control the bleeding. It won't stop. Then Reynolds sees the source of the problem and without question, reaches in with his left thumb and index finger, pinches the exposed artery.
The blood slows slightly, but Brock is still shaking his head.
Jason looks at him with questioning eyes, silently asking 'will that hold?'. Brock can't bring himself to reply, instead he turns his attention to the team medic.
Trent was having a hard time keeping track of everything that happened after the blast knocked him off his feet.
He remembers Hayes dragging him to cover… the pain… after that he is moving, without actually moving… the hostiles… No, that doesn't sound right. He can feel pressure on his side, hears voices talking but can't make out what's being said. Everything was fading in and out.
After time ticks by, the voices clear. He, somehow, manages to crack his eyes open. Sees Bravo Five on his left, hands firm against his side. Ah, there's the cause of the pressure. Good job, Brock. Trent blinks, hazy eyes shift to his right where he can barely see Jason.
"That's it, Trent. Just hold on a little longer. Keep fighting!" Hayes says. Trent knows he is trying to keep him awake, but it isn't going to work. "Don't close your eyes, Four! Keep them open, dammit! We're almost there!"
Trent coughs, winces, the taste of copper returns, fighting with the pain for control over his fading senses. "N-not… not y-your… f-faul-." He whispers, words trailing off, as his head lulls to the side and darkness takes hold once more.
"Trent? Trent!" Jason squeezes Trent's shoulder tries to wake him up. The medic doesn't respond.
"His breathing is getting worse!" shouts Brock, not taking his hands away from Trent's side.
"How much longer?!" Ray shouts to the driver.
As if on cue, the van slams to a halt with screeching tires. The van door is thrown open and Sonny, Clay and Ray file out of the way so medical personal could get in. Brock fills them in on what he knew as Bravo Four was pulled from the van and transferred to a gurney. Five did not dare remove his hands now, even with the nurses and doctors trying to take over. He stayed with them step for step as they ran back into the building, all shouting medical jargon that went over the heads of the rest of Bravo.
"This is my fault," Jason says mostly to himself, though the others heard him loud and clear. Ray was the first to step into Hayes line of vision, blocking the doorway Trent was just ushered through. "If I hadn't been so damn eager to get Lazo to talk—"
"Don't do that to yourself, Jase. Don't. We got what we needed from Lazo. We got to Trent in time."
"We wouldn't be in this mess if I hadn't ordered him to use our only bag of blood. We could've bought him time" Jason pushes past Ray. It felt as if the blood on his hands was already caked dry. Jason can't even face his team as he says, "If Trent dies—" it's on me, he thinks.
No one spoke after that.
"It'll be awhile before we hear any news." Commander Blackburn says as he walks up on Bravo. "Everyone get cleaned up. We'll debrief later."
Bravo Team had been back stateside for over a week now, and in those nine days, Jason has struggled to release his pent-up energy. He was still tense. After a couple days off, he and the rest of the team continued to work out, even though Bravo was pulled from rotations as Trent recovered.
They had just gotten back to base from running hills geared up. Everyone else had already cleaned up and gone home for the evening, but Jason couldn't bring himself to do the same. He couldn't sit around the house with Emma and Mikey, doing nothing, so he texted them saying he'd be home late and headed for the gym, hoping to clear his mind.
The hours ticked by and Hayes was able to get a few good reps in before he finally decided to call it quits. Placing the weights back on the racks above him, he sits up from the bench with the intention of grabbing his towel, when he sees an outstretched hand.
"Your sweating bullets, Jase."
"Just putting in the work." Jason grabs the towel from the man, avoiding his gaze, and takes a drink of water. "Shouldn't you be in bed somewhere?
"Hmm." Trent shifts his weight slightly so more of his weight is on the cane, and not his injured leg. "They said I needed some exercise. And you should feel bad that you're making a cripple chase after you."
"I'm not making yo—" Jason cuts himself off. "Ray tell you where to find me?"
"They all did." As his leg and side were still healing, he couldn't stand for very long. Trent takes a seat in a chair opposite of Jason, leaning the cane against the wall. "They've also told me that you blame yourself for what happened in the church."
"Because it is."
"No, it's not, Jason and deep down you know it."
Hayes signs, lowers his head. "If I hadn't ordered you to give Lazo the last of our blood, we would have been able to give you more time to get to base. Brock wouldn't have had to stick his fingers in your side. It was too damn close."
Trent laughs, actually laughs. "You really know how to sell yourself short, boss." At Jason's questioning look and narrow eyes, the medic continues. "You made the call you thought was right, and in the end it worked. We got Doza, not how we wanted, but we got him. Another successful mission."
"Yeah, but at what cost?" Jason says as he motions to the cane.
Trent grabs the item and uses it to get to his feet. He reaches out and clasps his left hand on his leaders' shoulder. "One that wasn't too high. One that any of us would pay again. We'd follow you anywhere, Jase. Even the kid."
"You talked to him?"
"Yeah. He's coming around. I think losing Stella really messed with his head. He'll get square soon enough."
"Yeah, right." Jason wipes his face with the towel, and heads for the showers.
"Hey, Jase?" Trent calls after the other man. Jason turns at the sound of his name, looks at his brother who nearly died because of his actions. "I don't remember much about what happened in the church. But I know I meant what I said. It wasn't your fault."
All of a sudden, the bottled-up energy that Jason had be struggling to release was gone. The stress of the Mexico mission faded away as quickly as Trent uttered those words.
Jason nods, accepting the words as truth. "Night, Trent."
Trent limps towards the door, stops and gives Jason a hug on his way out. "Night, boss."
-FIN-
