AN: Happy SEAL Team Day! We made it through the hiatus!

I forgot I had this one-shot sitting on my drive, so I went ahead and finished it for today as a little thank you to everyone in this amazing fandom for helping me get through the summer, first not knowing if we'd get another season, then by filling that time until the new season arrived. Hope you like it :)

Make it Count – SEAL Team

"HAVOC base to all stations, be advised your path to exfil is clear for now. With these clouds approaching, double time it before we lose you on ISR." Lt. Commander Blackburn says into his comms to Bravo Team. He was watching their mission on ISR with Ellis, watching their six from above as they monitored the ever-changing situation.

"Good copy, HAVOC. Making for exfil now." Says Jason as he leads his men out.

It was a straight shot to the exfil location, but the intel they were sent to gather was on the top floor of a three-story building located in the middle of a town. After securing the intel, Bravo lined up in three rows of two, with Jason and Ray taking point and Brock and Clay bringing up the rear.

"Why do you think they hid this intel in this run-down building?" Clay ponders as he follows his brothers. "I mean, if the rumors are true, then this is some scifi-like tech stuff. Why not lock it in a vault or something?"

Sonny chuckles. "Well, Rookie, let's jus' say some bad guys ain't the brightest bulbs in the shed."

"Yeah, I know that. But this just feels—"

"Don't say it!"

"—wrong." Finishes Clay. Though they did not slow or stop their pace, young Spenser would swear he felt five pairs of eyes on him. Six, if Cerberus were there.

"Dammit, Spenser!"

"You know SEALs only get ambushed like, once per—"

"We've been ambushed before, Sonny. That saying really isn't a thing." Trent chimes in from Quinn's left as they descend a flight of stairs. "But I agree with the kid. Something about this doesn't feel right."

Brock clears his right, then looks to the medic in front of him. "Like it's a trap? Don't say like a trap."

No one wanted to think it, but Five said it so now this mission being a trap is all in Bravo's mind.

The team finally makes it to the first floor and head for the rear doors that will lead them to a path towards their exfil location. Jason and Ray sweep their respective sides, leading their brothers into a conference room that overlooks a courtyard and more buildings. They walked down a short flight of stairs, which takes them to the ground level of the building.

"Whatever the reason for the Kid's weird feeling, forget it. Let's just fini—" Jason's words are cut off abruptly when he jolts and falls to the ground without a sound or warning. No one heard anything, but the remaining members of Bravo all took a knee and raised their weapons, unsure in which direction to aim.

"Where'd that come from!?"

"Move now, questions later! Go!" shouts Ray as he takes command. With Jason unconscious, it is up to him as 2IC to take control of the team. He quickly takes point, Clay and Brock bring up the rear. Trent and Sonny drag Jason between them as Ray leads them to any place that resembles cover. "Bravo Two to HAVOC base, come in!"

The familiar sound of a bullet reaches their ears, coupled with the sound of glass shattering. Someone grunts but they keep moving.

"Go for HAVOC."

"One is down. We don't know his condition, possible GSW as the cause. I need a location to hunker down until we can find out more. Over."

"Copy Two. There is an office 40 meters due north of your pos that will lead to exfil if you ca—"

"Sniper!" someone shouts.

Clay feels himself falling to the ground but isn't sure if it's because he ducks or if someone—or something—knocks him over. A second passed and while he doesn't feel the too familiar sensation of being shot anywhere on his body, there is a heavy weight on his chest.

"Move it!" Sonny says as the weight dissipates and he himself is dragged across the worn carpet.

Ray leads the team to a room that was closer, but upon arrival, was not better.

The corner office had a clear view of the city with large bay windows overlooking the street and what appears to be a park. Buildings stretched along the road, as far as the eye could see. The sniper could be anywhere.

"Clay, talk to me, kid! Clay!"

Spenser heard his name. He rolls over onto his side, then his hands and knees. He uses the wall to get to his feet, looks around with a mumbled "I'm fine." Hopefully that eases Sonny's mind.

"Bravo Two to HAVOC?"

"Go for HAVOC."

"We were unable to get to your recommended location." Ray says into the comms as he gives base their location. "There's a sniper in one of the buildings across our current pos."

"Copy that. What's One's status?"

Ray looks over to the team leader, sees his unmoving figure as Trent looks him over. "Trent?"

"Unconscious. Bullet hit his chest plate." Says the medic. "Broke a rib or two… shit."

Ray had just pressed the button on his comms to relay the information to HAVOC when the windows in the office shattered beneath a hail of bullets.

Sonny and Clay waste no time in overturning the large, wooden, conference table onto its side as Trent pulls Jason behind it. Ray and Brock returned fire in the direction they saw muzzle flashes coming from when Ray pitches back with a loud shout and a thud.

"Ray!"

Brock, the only member currently not behind the table and the only one who can get to Bravo Two, expertly grabs his brother by his gear and precedes to pull him behind their only form of protection. The bullets continue to rain in to the room. Brock curses as he sets Ray down and looks him over.

"Brock, how bad?" asks Trent as he leans over. Sonny and Clay continue to fire, giving them cover.

"Uh, through and through in his left shoulder, deep cut on his forearm from the glass… yeah, there's a piece in there." Brock packs the wounds as best he can. He looks up just for a second, and he sees Sonny waver ever so slightly. "Sonny?"

This gets Trent's attention, who reels around just in time to stop Bravo Three from hitting the floor. "The hell?"

The bullets stop, and Clay takes the time to get behind cover again. He sees Trent running his hands over Sonny's body, looking for the reason why he suddenly collapsed.

"Bullet went in his upper thigh, no exit wound… shit, there's too much blood. Might've nicked his artery." Trent mutters a curse. "How'd that happen? He was behind the table!" he grabs a handful of gauze and packs the wound, which causes a wince and a string of curses to pass the Texans' lips.

Clay thinks back to when the sniper first made contact, how someone tackled him to the ground before dragging him out of the line of fire. In the dimly lit room, Spenser looks down and sees red spots on his shirt and pants. But he knows the blood isn't his. "He must've got hit when he knocked me down at first contact." He tells the medic.

Brock, from his position of putting pressure on Ray's shoulder, looks over to their youngest member. "How'd the shooter get from one side of the building to the other that fast?" he asks. And suddenly, it all makes sense. "There's more than one sniper."

"And we were funneled into a trap." Clay agrees. "We're fish in a barrel in here."

"Shit." Trent keys his comms, the responsibilities of contacting base now falling on his shoulders. "Bravo Four to HAVOC base, come in."

"We read you Bravo Four." There is a slight pause before Blackburn continues. "What's your sitrep?"

"Bravo's One, Two and Three are down. Ray and Sonny took hits in the firefight and Jason is still unconscious from taking a hit to his plate. I'm worried about further damage it may have done."

"I'm fine!" Sonny shouts as he struggles to sit up. "Where's my weapon?"

Trent yells, "Shit, Sonny, stop moving!"

"Copy that. What about the rest of you?"

Trent spares a glance at Brock and Clay, who are positioned at the table, ready to provide cover should the sniper try anything else. "Fine for now. But we have a bigger problem. One was hit before we got to this office while Two and Three were hit once we were here."

"You got contacted on two different sides of the building? Less than two minutes apart?"

"Affirmative. Appears we are looking at two snipers, hell, maybe more." Trent releases the comms button, signs deeply, continues. "We can't stay here. How far out is QRF?"

"ETA for QRF is 10 mikes. But radar has picked up a nasty storm heading your way. May delay air support."

"Ground support?"

"Still trying to get you something, just in case. Stand by."

"Standing by."

Clay looks over his shoulder at the medic. "Well?"

"If the storm doesn't delay things, 10 mikes."

Trent carefully watches the time, waits for HAVOC to get back to him. By minute eight, the rain began to pour. By minute nine, the comms cracked to life.

"HAVOC to Bravo Four, the storm has suspended air support to your location. Ground QRF is 5 mikes out. How copy?"

Trent doesn't even have time to consider a reply when the onslaught of bullets begins again. He crouches down, making sure that Jason, Ray and Sonny were well covered before he returned fire. A few seconds pass, and he changes out his mag, Sawyer replies, "Good copy, HAVOC! Tell them to hurry the hell up!"

After what felt like years, ground QRF appeared on the street below. They returned fire towards the building Bravo was firing at, while others ran to Bravo's aid.

Since the room was on the ground level and the bay windows blown out, it was a straight shot for Bravo Team to get to the waiting vehicles. A medic helped Sonny limp along and another grabbed a still unconscious Jason, easily hoisting him over their shoulders. Ray was assisted and he spared a glance over his shoulder at Trent, Brock and Clay who still engaged the enemy.

"Let's go!" someone yells as he is placed in a waiting vehicle.

What happens next, happened in a blur.

QRF soldiers were laying down cover for Four, Five and Six. Brock ran towards the waiting vehicles when something struck him, hard. He collapses to the ground, landing in a puddle of water, and stilled as bullets continued to pepper the wet earth around him.

"Brock!"

Trent had just stepped from behind the overturned table and made his way towards his fallen brother, he could feel Clay doing the same behind him, when the area around them moved. There is an inaudible shout that cannot be understood over the sound of pouring rain and gunfire. Something exposed in front of them, sending them reeling back deeper into the building.

"RPG!"

"Get down!"

Suddenly, something above Trent and Clay rumbles and the ceiling starts to come down. Lights shattered, chunks of stone and metal and wood and plaster fall to the ground with crashes that aren't exactly silent. Even with the resounding gunfire and increased rainfall, it still reverberated in the men's ears.

It's a miracle Clay heard Trent's words at all.

"Six, move!"

Clay is pushed from the opening—from his brothers and QRF and exfil—and back into the crumbling building. He follows Trent as they work their way backwards as best they can, stumbling along as the ceiling continues to fall, looking for another way out. They had just gotten back to the conference room that overlooked the courtyard on the first floor when a section of the ceiling separated itself from the rest of the building, taking a section of the wall along with it.

It comes down slowly at first, then all at once.

Something knocks Spenser off his feet—right over the stair railing—and he falls to the ground with a pained shout. He shields his eyes as the dust fills the air, coughs when it becomes too much, folds himself into a tight ball in a feeble effort to make himself as small as possible as the debris falls on and round him. When the ringing in his ears lessens slightly, he rolls onto his back but stops when a sharp pain engulfs his right arm.

"Ahh dammit!" he shouts as he lay on the ground, trying to force his breathing to even out. Clay works on moving his fingers, assuming he still has five attached to his right hand—he waits—yep, still there. But his arm is definitely broken. He lets out a string of expletives in every language he knows.

Trent is not gonna-

Wait…

…where's…

"T-Trent?" all of a sudden, the throbbing pain in his arm is all but gone as Clay looks around the remnants of the conference room. It was similar to the one they were in earlier, but these windows were mostly in one piece. That and there was no large wooden table to hide behind. "Trent!"

The youngest SEAL frantically looks around the room, grabs his weapon with his uninjured and off hand and cradling his broken one to his waist. He continues to call out for the medic as he gets to his feet and stumbles about, clearing it as best he can manage given the conditions.

That's when he sees Bravo Four's arm. He's buried beneath debris.

"Trent? Trent! C'mon, Four, talk to me man." Clay doesn't like the risk but to hell with it. He sets his weapon down and uses his left arm to move the small and medium rocks away from Bravo Four's arms and chest. Once clear - as clear as he could get with a broken arm - Clay can see Trent is laying on his back, a large slab of ceiling was keeping the rest of him pinned between the remnants of the wall and the floor. Spenser reaches over and places two fingers to the medic's neck. He has a pulse, but it's slow, a little weak. Still he tries to walk the other man up. "Trent? Answer me, Four!"

Clay sits back on his heels slightly, biting his lip to keep from scream out in pain as doing so jarred his arm more. He reaches across his chest and presses his comms button, realizing that it has been a long time since he contacted the others. "Bravo Six to HAVOC base, come in."

Nothing. Not even static. Clay looks down and sees that his radio no longer resembles a radio. The feeling of dejection returns as he supports his arm in his lap.

What else could possibly go wr—

"No, don't even think it!" Clay says to himself. Knowing good and well that when someone asks "the question", shit hits the fan. So, he turns his attention back to Trent.

Just by looking at Sawyer trapped in the debris, it is impossible for Clay to see what condition he is in. Other than seeing the blood streaks on his head that peaked out from beneath his helmet, Clay can't really tell what other injuries Four sustained. This is not ideal, having the team medic unconscious at a time like this. Even if he knew what to look for, there is no way he'd be able to treat him. Not with the basic medical knowledge he has. Not when his arm is busted. And not to mention there's still a shooter or two or more still out there.

None of that is going to stop him from trying, he decides to take these few minutes to gather his thoughts.

Spenser had just finished going through his medical supplies, looking for something to splint his arm, when Trent began to stir.

"Ah fu-," comes a muttered and broken groan. Clay's head snaps up and he crawls over to the medics' side. "Six? Clay?"

"Yeah, man, I'm here."

Trent relaxes some, but it doesn't show. He cracks his eyes open, tries to take stock of the situation, but there's too much dust in his eyes and he shuts them again. "RPG?" he coughs.

Clay notices this and carefully wipes some of the dirt away from Trent's face. He then looks around the partially destroyed building, says, "Yeah. We got separated from the guys and exfil as it hit. And the shooters are MIA for now."

Trent sighs. "Awesome."

"Are you hurt or…?" Clay isn't sure where to start. The pain in his arm is making it really hard to think clearly, but he can't find his personal med pack.

Trent tries to move, but his weak efforts prove fruitless. "I, uh, I think I'm j-just pinned. You? Where are you hurt?"

Clay starts to shake his head, not wanting Trent to worry about him in his current state, but he thinks better of it. "Right arm's broken... that's the worst of it. There's probably more but my adrenaline is high right now."

"Okay. Okayokayokayokay." Trent lay there for a few seconds, trying to think through his meddled brain. "Is your radio working?"

"Doesn't even look like a radio anymore." Clay moves slightly, get lightheaded, which is not missed by Trent. "Yours?"

"Can't reach it."

"Right."

"Let's get your arm fixed first, then we'll worry about contacting the others. Can you tell what kind of break it is?"

"The kind that hurts?"

"Spenser…"

"Sorry. Um, the bone didn't break through the skin. I think I can feel it moving, so maybe transverse?" Clay bits his lip at the sound of bone moving slightly.

Trent can't do much of anything to help the younger SEAL and that pains him. Still, he has to do what he can to keep him alive. "Okay. Not great, but not awful. The best you can do is splint it really good."

Clay looks at the man pinned to the ground. "With what?"

Trent curses. Because anything that he would have used to splint Clay's arm is in his pack. And his pack is on his back. And he can't get to anything because of the way he is trapped beneath the wall and floor. "Look around the room. You see any pieces of wood, or metal? Something long and sturdy?"

Clay can't see anything from his current position, he says, "I'll go look. Can you reach your weapon?"

"Yeah, I'm good. Go. And Spenser?" the kid looks at Trent and he continues. "Be careful."

"I'll be right back." Six gives one last look at Four, then leaves to find something to splint his arm. He hated the idea of leaving his brother in such a vulnerable state, but at this point, he really had no choice. He was a decent shot with his left hand, but if push came to shove, he's useless in a firefight. Clay would get his arm taken care of, figure how to get Trent out from under the debris, and then they can work out how to contact base.

All while evading at least two snipers.

Not wanting to take too long, Clay doesn't go very far. He searches the debris for anything that he could use-a piece of wood would be best-but he was coming up empty. Everything was either too sharp or too small or too weak. He finally settled on a long piece of what appeared to be part of a desk when he noticed something amiss.

Clay's eyes go wide as he sees his brothers and QRF pinned down in the courtyard. The remnants of a small wall is the only thing separating them from the random pattern of bullets that whizzed through the sky. From this position, the young SEAL can see Sonny and Jason and a few members of the QRF team taking turns returning fire. But he can't see Brock or Ray and that worries him. They are pinned.

Spenser looks in the direction his brothers are firing, can make out the muzzle flashes coming through a broken window. The sniper has the perfect angle on his brothers, concealed by a long, slanted awning that gave the enemy just enough cover to do their job without getting struck by Bravo and QRF down below.

But they did not count on Clay having a clear shot, either.

He hasn't been rolling with Bravo for very long. In a sense, he's still proving himself, though his year as their Rookie is quickly coming to a close. Or has it already passed? He doesn't know, doesn't really care at this point as he knows he is their best chance at getting out of that courtyard alive. Clay reaches up to infor Trent when he remembers that he no longer has a radio.

If he's gone to long, Trent may get worried. What if he's injured?

But if he leaves to tell Trent he can take out at least one of the snipers, then their brothers may not survive.

Clay curses. Trent would be fine for a few minutes, just until he locked in on the sniper and took him out. He can worry about what comes after that when that bridge comes up.

Grabbing a broken chair with his good hand, Spenser drags it over to the window and sets up his rifle behind it. He knows he a damn good shot, but shooting with one's off hand is no small, easy task. He goes through his usual checklist as he lines up his shot marked by the muzzle flashes.

Clay's left index finger had just brushed the trigger when he heard something… off. It wasn't the building shifting, or the storm that continued to rage on. It sounded like a ghost. If ghosts wore boots that stepped on broken glass or debris. This wouldn't be a problem for Clay, really, if he wasn't trying to take out the sniper across the street. It wouldn't be a problem if the soft footsteps were walking towards him, seeing as Clay is better on his sidearm with his left hand than with a rifle.

No, this is a problem because the ghost is walking away from Clay and toward a trapped Trent.

Trent was a Tier One Operator. They all were. Clay has to trust his instincts, trust that Sawyer could do what needs to be done.

Clay had to trust that he could make this shot count.

Not having any other choice, Clay once again lines up his shot, waits a beat, and fires. At the same time, gunfire echoed behind him.

The following silence was deafening.

Only after looking through his scope and making sure his brothers were okay does Clay stand to his feet with a wince of pain. He draws his sidearm with his left hand, trusting to be a better shot with that and one good arm than with his preferred rifle, and heads back to Trent as quick as he dares.

When Clay arrives back to where Trent was, he is greeted with one dead tango and an exhausted Bravo Four, blood and sweat mixing with the debris beneath him. "Uh, you good, Four?"

Trent manages a stiff nod. He has his hand clasped over a wound on his bicep, says, "I'll be better once I'm outta here. You?"

"Yeah. All's good." Clay cradled his arm tight against his chest, his heart still racing after thinking he made the wrong choice.

It wasn't until a week later that the five senior members of Bravo learned what their Rookie did. One night they had off, as Bravo was recovering from various GSW injuries and fractured bones, Jason calls for a toast in a bar that had a pretty decent restaurant. While alcohol was off the menu due to them all being on pain medication as they healed, glasses of water and soda (or tea for the Southern person in the room) rose into the air regardless.

"This doesn't need to be all, as we all have come to realize how valuable Spenser - Bravo Six - has been to this team. We wouldn't be here if you hadn't taken that shot, Kid, so here's to you." says Jason with a smile. "One round on each of us." the rest of the team voice their agreements.

"You mean I don't have to buy you all a case of beer after that?" said Clay with a mocking smile of his own. "Sweet!"

Someone threw peanuts at the kid, another took the opportunity to dump the entire bottle of salt into his lemonade while the others laughed. Jason has had mixed feelings about young Spenser since he brought him up to Bravo, but after this latest mission, maybe his choice was worth it.

Only time would tell.

FIN

AN: School is ticking along so I still don't really have to time to write fics. But I do stop by every now and then so feel free to message me about the latest episodes and what you think about it. I'd love to talk to more of you about the show :)