A/N: Bit of emotional whump this go around. Spoilers if you haven't see 2.17.

Plot: Drabble thoughts that went through Bravo Team's mind after the two explosions and up to waiting for news on Clay in the hospital.

Paradise Lost Tag

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Bravo One

After everything that happened, Jason wasn't going to leave him. No man left behind. Right? He simply jumped into the ambulance, gave his team orders to help with the rest of the casualties, promised to keep them updated, then slammed the door shut and yelled at the driver to go.

He ignored his own wounds, eyes glued to Clay who was strapped to the gurney, bleeding, drifting in and out of consciousness. He tried to offer Spenser comfort, but it was hard to hold on to hope that things would be okay after this. But he had to. For the kid. For his team. His brothers.

Better than brothers.

When they arrived at the hospital, and the doctors and nurses swarmed around the kid—their kid—he was pushed to the side as Clay was rolled away, out of reach. Jason didn't want to leave him, but they gave him no choice. No man left behind, yet, there he went. Alone.

So, there he was. Leaning against the dingy blue hospital walls. Arms folded. Face set in a firm look that would deter any sane person away. Waiting.

And as he waited, and waited, and waited, he kept replaying the events over and over and over in his mind. No, not the explosion that cut up his leg and arms. The second one. The one that occurred further in the market. The one that occurred when Spenser was the only team member not in the bar.

He'll never forget the look on Sonny's face, pale in the dim light, as he shouted the kid's name and franticly ran out of the building in search for the youngest member of Bravo. Only when the rest of the team was finished with their own charges, did they race after Sonny, who still shouted Clay's name.

Jason when they came up to his body on the street…

He saw Blackburn run in a few minutes go but hasn't heard a word on Spenser's condition. The feeling of failure trickled in, of not being able to protect his team. Maybe they were too lax. Maybe there did need to be some changes, for the betterment of the team. Maybe-

No.

When Jason saw his brothers walking towards him, each with scrapes, burns or cuts over their dirty bodies, he realized that he did not fail Clay. They did not fail Clay. He's alive because of their quick thinking. And no change would have had an effect on tonight's outcome.

Spenser would be okay.

He had to be.

But the people responsible for this would not.

Bravo Two

Faith.

Likely a small word to someone who doesn't believe in anything higher than themselves. But to Ray, that word was larger than life. Larger than himself. And since Mexico, it's only gotten smaller and smaller. Now, he can't even see it. Doubts he even has any left.

After the explosion knocked him down, the only thing going through his mind was his team. His brothers. He didn't see them at first, and years in service has taught him to prepare for anything. The worse. But that small bit of faith, living somewhere deep within his being, told him that his team was okay.

Then he heard Jason call his name. He saw the rest of the guys. A bit beat up, but alive all the same.

Relief washed over him.

But that faith dwindled after the second explosion.

And he realized Clay was not in the bar.

Ray saw Sonny run out of the rundown building, screaming the kid's name.

The faith that Clay was all right… that never came for Ray.

Not as he followed the others out into chaotic street, pushing pass victim and stepping over or around the dead. It never came when he saw Quinn fall to his knees and begged Spenser to stay awake, to breathe.

And now that they're at the hospital, waiting for news that Clay would be fine and they could see him? Faith still didn't show.

So, as he waits with the team, for the doctors or for Blackburn to tell them that Clay is okay, Ray considers, actually considers, praying. A deep, honest to God, 'I messed up and I'm sorry please just don't take the kid', prayer. But he doesn't know where to start. The words never come. He just stands there, in the middle of the hall, mind blank of any prayers. Of any hope.

There was no faith left after this.

He doubted he'd ever have faith again.

Bravo Three

Sonny would never say the words, never admit it aloud, but he and Clay had become rather close. One could say it began when he was facing death in that torpedo tube, but a seed was planted the day Spenser joined Bravo over a year ago.

He's gotten used to the kid.

He's his brother. There's no changing that.

Nothing could change that. Nothing.

Then the first bomb went off. And Bravo reacted. This is what they were trained to do. Help those who couldn't help themselves. But, if he was being honest, he didn't want Clay to leave that bar. He needed to keep an eye on him. Blasted Dead Man's Hand aside, he needed to be sure that the kid was safe.

Well. As safe as can be.

Sonny saw Clay bring in that woman with the wounds on her legs. And then the two brothers, comforting them, letting them know it would be okay. Still, he tried to stop him. But the kid disappeared back into the chaos, looking for more victims to help. Because that's who he is. That's who they all are.

Sonny swears he stopped breathing when he heard the second explosion. Things got worse when he didn't see Clay in the bar with the rest of the team.

Panic raises in his chest as he runs out of the bar, searching for the kid amongst the screaming crowd.

And he doesn't see him.

Not at first.

But he doesn't stop looking. Doesn't stop hoping.

He screams Clay's name.

Finally sees his prone—no, barely moving—figure off near a curb, he runs over and… Everything that happened after that is a blur. Now in the hospital, he's thinking that to when he nearly died. He thought of how Clay was there for him, making sure he knew that he was alone as the water got higher and his air supply lower.

He only wished he could do the same.

Bravo Four

Trent can't help but look at the blood on his hands.

Some of it is from checking victims, seeing if they were dead or alive. Some is from treating victims, like the elderly man who lost his wife. And some of he was his brother's. That blood is on top, fresher than the rest, sticky as it slowly dries and stains his hands.

But he can't bring himself to wash it off.

He has trained for moments like his. But why he was Bravo Team's medic made no sense. At least, not at first. Jason could ask for any certified medic to have watching his back, treating his brothers, but Jason wanted Trent. Said he trusted him. They all trusted him.

However, in the heat of the moment? All of that was put on the line.

And if he failed?

Would that trust still stand?

Trent didn't have a kit, supplies, gear that would ensure Clay survived, or at least give him a better chance. Instead he was forced to work with things around him, which was all but a charred and broken mess. He managed, got to work, used a broken pool cue and random scraps of fabric instead to secure the wound. Clay's life depended on what he could do.

In the beginning, he was not used to the art of improvising, but as the years of service went by, he got really good at it. Really, really good. Trent felt like he was talking to himself most of the time, but someone—everyone—got him what he needed to make a junctional tourniquet. It would work.

He just hoped it would be enough to get Clay to the hospital.

Would it be enough?

Was it enough?

Trent sat in the waiting room, his red stained fingers rubbing circles around his aching temple. At least they were dry now. He didn't want to risk missing any news by leaving. None of that stopped his thoughts from going to his brother, wondering if the doctors were actually doing everything, they could to keep him alive.

He keeps telling himself he did all he could.

He tries to believe he did all he could.

But the doubts still creep in as they wait.

Bravo Five

Brock was on auto pilot.

He felt himself get knocked to the ground, and then his training took over without consulting his brain. He helped Mandy to her feet, looked around for his brothers, made sure they were okay, then he was moving to treat the injured.

Somehow, he came up on a victim the same time as Trent and Jason did. He wasted no time in pulling out his phone and turning on the flashlight so the medic could work. When Trent told him to get supplies to inflate the man's lungs, Brock took off for the kitchen, looking for the strongest alcohol, a straw and saran wrap.

He went from victim to victim, help who he could, however he could. And he kept moving, kept pushing through, didn't slow down or stop. His head hurt, and he felt blood running down his neck, but his body and mind were not on the same page. Brock kept going, kept helping victims.

When the second explosion tore through the market, his auto pilot turned up. And when he didn't see Clay, saw Sonny tearing out of the bar screaming the kid's name, did it go into overdrive.

Auto pilot is the only reason Brock was able to get Trent supplies to improvise a junctional. Was the only reason why he grabbed a broken pool cue instead of a shard piece of metal. Was the only reason why he was able grab a couple pieces of cloth to pack Clay's wounds until help came. Was the only was he was able to hold Spenser's head still as his brothers rolled him onto the backboard. And was the only was he was able to correctly secure the kid's head before they loaded him into the ambulance.

Auto pilot and adrenaline.

But now that they are at the hospital?

His mind and body are beginning to get on the same page. They find Jason, but he doesn't have any news for them. Brock sinks to the floor, crosses his arms over his knees, leans his aching head down in a futile attempt to drown out the ache that was beginning to make itself known to him. He hears someone talking close by, probably Trent telling him he needs to get his head looked at. Granted they all should get checked out, but he doesn't move. None of them do.

Not until Blackburn steps through the double doors.

And after the Lt. Commander gives them an update on Spenser…

…and they learn just how bad it really is…

…does Bravo Team feel worse than when the horrible night began.

- FIN -

A/N: This episode wrecked me in many ways and I couldn't stop thinking of the guys as everything went down. Brock was the hardest to write because he seemed so distraught after everything! So I hope I was able to get that, and the rest of Bravo's emotions, across well.