AN: Hello from a place called winter break. I wrote this angsty one-shot as a one year anniversary gift to myself because I began writing for this fandom last Christmas and I haven't looked back. Thanks for being so welcoming. You all are the best!

This is set before season three (which makes it AU-ish), since its Original Team Bravo (OTB). Any fics I write in the future that will include Metal and/or Vic will likely be labeled New Team Bravo (NTB) because I'm not sure how to write them yet.

Major character death warning and strong T descriptions of graphic injuries. Tissues?

Plot: As Tier One Operators, nothing is too hard. No price too high. No cost too great. When a mission takes a turn for the worse, one member of Bravo will pay the ultimate price to ensure his brothers make it home one more time. *Inspired by a scene in Call of Duty Modern Warfare 2*

12: The Best of Us (Don't Make it Home) One-Shot

They were almost to the extraction point with things went soundly south.

The mission itself wasn't hard. If they spoke their mind, which Sonny almost did in the briefing room, they'd say this mission was rather low on the totem pole of things Bravo was trained for. But, as always, they followed orders and went where they were told. Even if picking up some senator's spoiled daughter, who was in a country she had no business being in, cut their much needed weekend short. No one was going to mention this only happened because the senator was running for a really high position in DC, but everyone was thinking it.

Along the way toward exfil, Sonny complained to Clay in the front of the group while Jason and Ray tried to keep from rolling their eyes while watching the groups' six. Brock and Trent, in the middle and flanked on either side of the VIP (who may or may not be trudging along with headphones blasting some new-age Indie tunes), snickered silently to themselves as they scanned the area around them.

Picking the young woman up from a nice but still sketchy looking village proved to be quicker than anticipated when their VIP realized she'd be going home sooner and would have access to air conditioning, running water and food was wasn't gutted and bled that day (she apparently had taken enough photos to show her Instagram followers how kind and thoughtful she 'really' was for the next year). Sonny constantly gave Clay grief about the looks the girl gave him as they made their trek toward exfil. Ray offered to trade places with him so he'd walk in the back with Jason, but Spenser was not going to let an eager young woman rattle him.

This close to the coast the trees were thinner, the area more open. As they were essentially an overqualified escort squad, they were light on the gear side of things. Even so, the thick humid air still made it feel like the Amazon, and everyone was soaked in sweat. After pausing to hydrate, and so Trent could wrap their VIPs ankle (she stepped in a hole because her eyes were glued to her phone), they continued on their way once more.

That's when they were attacked.

The bullets whizzed by right as an explosion sounded in front of them. Sonny collapsed his position back to Brock and Trent, while Four grabbed their VIP and pushed her behind a large tree. Clay appeared on the other side, laying down cover fire, as Jason and Ray did the same.

"They're flanking us!" Ray said as he took cover and changed out his mag.

"Split up!" ordered Jason. "Four, Six, get her to exfil!"

Knowing that the mission is to get the VIP to exfil, Trent and Clay grabbed her while their brothers give them cover. They never enjoyed entertaining the idea of splitting up, but they had no choice.

Trent took point and led Clay and their VIP off path, toward exfil, with the sound of gunfire still echoing in their ears. They hadn't gotten far when a blur slammed Trent into a tree. He was pinned and couldn't get to his rifle before it was ripped from his grasp. A kick to his side and then one to his right leg prevented him from drawing his sidearm.

It happened quickly. Trent saw Clay pull the VIP behind him, saw him raise his weapon and aim at the tango. But he also knew that his brother wouldn't fire.

The tango rained down blow after blow. Trent returned a few of his own, but the tango was large and full of rage like a wild animal. The SEAL had just managed to grip the handle of his knife when something was slammed into the side of his head that sent a sharp pain through his entire body. He coughed, fell to his knees. The world spun as he was pushed onto his back. Dazed, with blackness encroaching around the edges of his vision, Trent didn't see the tango grab a knife of his own before the blade was thrust into his chest up to the hilt.

He couldn't even gasp.

Trent fought at first, but his eyes quickly drifted shut.

When he forced his eyes back open, Four saw Six fighting a different tango, while the one who stabbed him lay dead mere feet away with two bullet holes in his head. The sounds around him played as if he was underwater, and he could hear the rest of his brothers close by. But Bravo wouldn't get to their Kid before the tango killed him.

Before Trent's weakening body could consult his muddled brain, his left hand was searching for his weapons. He only found air. Not knowing where he lost his rifle or secondary weapon, his hand landed across his waist as darkness threatened to arrive again. A cough sent a jolt of pain through his body, blood trickled out of his mouth as his vision faded.

Sawyer blinked.

Clay was still fighting the tango, bloodied, movements sluggish. Bravo's youngest member was holding his own, remained between the tango and the VIP who was clutching a rock not even a yard away, but Spenser was clearly losing the battle.

Sawyer blinked again.

Trent's left hand found the handle of the knife that was in his chest. He didn't hesitate, didn't consider the consequences of his actions.

Throughout his long career in the Navy, Trent had come to know pain. BUD/S pushed him to his limits, as it did with every sailor who wanted to be a SEAL. He knew what he was capable of, knew the limits of his body. Four also knew that removing an object from an injured sailor was likely a big no-no. As the medic for Bravo, Trent spent years drilling that fact into his brother's heads. It only took Sonny nearly bleeding out in the middle of the desert for them to grasp the fact that the object acted like a plug, and once that plug was removed, things often got worse.

Trent gripped the handle of the knife with both hands.

No matter the consequences.

I will not fail.

So he pulled.

As Bravo Four pulled the blade from his chest, as he felt the warm blood pool and soak his clothes, he thought about his brothers. He didn't stop, he couldn't. Clay's life depended on it. Trent gritted his teeth against the pain, fought back the threat of unconsciousness, and kept pulling.

Once the knife was out, everything slowed down.

Trent pinched the slick red blade between his left thumb and index finger, held it tightly and sought out his target. By now, the tango was kneeling over Clay, punching the young SEAL over and over and over. The tango had gripped Clay's neck with his large hands when Bravo Four threw the weapon blade over handle. Through hazy vision, he watched as the knife sailed through the humid air, seemingly in slow motion, before the blade embedded itself deep in the tangos right eye.

Only after the enemy was dead, only after Spenser got to his feet and checked on their VIP, only after the rest of Bravo arrived looking worn down and battered, did Trent allow himself to relax.

That's when Bravo Four got cold.

He heard his name, but didn't know who said it. Maybe everyone. Maybe no one. When Trent blinked, Clay was kneeling over him. Sawyer wondered what Spenser was doing before he was reminded when Clay pressed his hands against the wound on Trent's chest. Trent didn't say that he couldn't feel it.

"Four? Four, you keep your eyes open, okay, man?" Trent knew Clay wouldn't admit it, nor would Bravo call their youngest member out on it, but Spenser's voice wavered as he spoke. "Your our medic, you gotta tell me how to fix this? Tell me what to do. Tell me how to fix this."

Trent's mouth was suddenly dry.

He knew he didn't have long, but there was so much he wanted to say.

Instead of talking he looked at his brothers who stood in the background, surrounding their unharmed VIP. Sonny was dirty and had twigs in his hair. Ray looked a bit bruised but otherwise okay. Jason was standing with his weight on one leg. Brock had an arm wrapped tight around his ribs.

Then there was Spenser.

The kid's face was covered with cuts that still bled freely, black and blue rings were blooming around his neck. He leaned over Sawyer at an odd angle, and his breathing was a little labored. But he was alive. So was the rest of Bravo. That's all that mattered.

His did was he was trained to do.

His brothers were alive.

His mission was complete.

I will not fail.

"Hooyah."

FIN