Disclaimer: I don't own any tier one operators.
A/N: Title from a quote by Winston Churchill
Going Through Hell
Jason kicked Brock's recliner, "Mission briefing in ten."
The tired men's groans echoed around the room. They had been turning and burning for days. Kicking down door after door, on the hunt for an HVT that the CIA was very anxious to speak with. After days of false leads, Bravo Team was worn out. The idea of going on what would probably be yet another wild goose chase did not excite any of the tier one operators. But they dutifully made themselves decent enough to be briefed on yet another mission.
"What in the hell is this?" Sonny demanded, holding up his cowboy hat.
"What's wrong Son?" Clay asked.
"I'll tell you what's wrong," Sonny pointed his finger, "There's shit in my Stetson!"
"I knew you could be a shit head but I didn't think it would get in your hat," Clay quipped. The room broke out into tired laughter.
"You got something to say, dog boy?" Sonny turned his ire on the most likely target. The one that would have access to feces through his canine partner. Roughly shoving the dark-haired man, without a trace of friendly teasing.
Brock stopped laughing abruptly; caught by surprise he was unable to catch himself as he slammed into the wall hard. Using his thumb and forefinger to rub the bridge of his nose trying to relieve the pressure that had been building up behind his eyes all day. He was usually pretty even-tempered but he didn't appreciate being pushed around, especially by a fellow team member.
"Payback is a bitch," Sonny hissed, getting back into the dog handler's face. Brock shoved Sonny away as the brash Texan continued to accuse him of something he didn't do. The prank had Clay's fingerprints all over it, not that he'd ever rat the kid out. The rookie may not always think before he acted but his heart was always in the right place. He'd probably thought to help relieve some of the team's tension at Sonny's expense. Usually, a safe bet, except they'd all been run into the ground, leaving everyone with a hair-trigger on their tempers. He glanced over at Clay and took in his ashen features and knew the kid would be holding onto the guilt for his prank gone wrong for some time. He really wanted to punch Sonny in the face but that wouldn't help anyone, especially Clay. The choice was taken from him. As Bravo One took charge.
"Go cool off," Jason pushed Brock away from the brewing altercation. The best way to derail Sonny's rage was to remove the source of his ire. The team leader was so focused on Sonny that he missed Brock's hurt look at his perceived dismissal even though the younger man had done nothing wrong.
Jason turned on Sonny, "What crawled up your ass?"
"Nothing!" Sonny raged, waving around his ruined hat, "I don't want a damn lecture."
"I'm not lecturing," Jason raged at the dissension among his team right before another mission, " I'm ordering you to get your head out of your ass."
Jason dismissed the rest of his men to head over to the briefing room. Closing his eyes he sighed out his frustrations. They were all running on fumes. That's when mistakes got made. They couldn't afford to get sloppy out in the field. That's when people got killed.
"It was the kid," Jason opened his eyes to see Ray hadn't left.
Bravo One growled out, "Of course it was the kid!"
"Sonny sure thought it was Brock," Ray lifted an eyebrow waiting on the team leader's opinion.
"Sonny's too tired to think straight. We all are," Jason admitted.
"We should scrub the mission then," Ray tried to be the voice of reason, "Or send out another team."
"We both know neither are an option when it comes to the CIA," Jason scoffed.
"It'd be nice if they remembered we were human every once in a while."
"Speaking of being human. This is gonna set the kid back," Ray nodded resigned to his leader's observation. Clay had a hard enough time finding his place in Bravo without the guilt eating him alive from his prank gone wrong.
"I'll keep an eye on the boys," Ray promised, "Keep them in line."
"Let's hope it's enough," Jason couldn't help but have a bad feeling about their upcoming mission.
They approached their target in the dark of night. Jason turned to Brock giving him the go-ahead to send in their four legged teammate. With a nearly silent command, the dog took off to find an entry point. They watched the camera feed silently over the dog handler's shoulder, as the dog crept through the silent house. It seemed empty but Bravo had been on too many runs to take any chances of their quarry slipping through their fingers.
"Come on Cerberus, check here, good boy," Brock commanded over the dog camera's voice-over transmitter. Taking extra care of any potential hidey-holes.
"Maybe we should just have him shit on our target," Sonny groused.
"I told you I was sorry," Clay said.
"I don't care!" Sonny snapped, "You and Dog Boy ruined a classic piece of American history."
"But Brock didn't," Clay began to defend one of his friends before he was interrupted by his team leader.
"Cut the chatter," Jason chided, " Heads on swivel."
The dog barked, laying down in front of a closet. Brock turned to the rest of the team, "He's got something."
"K9 has scent on possible target. Moving to secure," Jason reported to Havoc. Using hand signals Bravo One split his team in half to secure both sides of the building. Ray leads Trent and Sonny around to the back of the house. While he took Clay and Brock, leading them to breach the front door.
"Prepping to assault," They quickly moved into position on Jason's order.
Clay tapped his brother's shoulder with a "last man." Brock covered their six as they made entrance. They quickly secured the bottom level leaving Ray's team to watch the exits as Jason led the way to secure the top level. They quickly made their way to where Cerb lay in front of the closet door, trapping the person hiding inside within its confines. Brock attached his dog back to his side as he covered Jason and Clay as they made entrance into the small room. They quickly secured the man hiding behind the clothes. Lifting the flap on his forearm Jason confirmed that it was not their target. Another Mission failure. That meant they would be sent out once again after the same target.
Jason took up guard against the wall as Clay started interrogating the man on the whereabouts of their target. Bravo One gave him a nod as Brock headed out of the room with his dog to search the rest of the top floor for their HVT.
Brock felt the floor fall out from under him. One second he was clearing the second story and the next he was back down on the ground floor. The floor was either rotten or deliberately sabotaged. As the sound of gunfire reached his ears, he went with the latter. Brock quickly rolled over to cover his dog as the bullets started flying his way. He kept quiet and worked the problem in his head till he's sure of his situation. No need to distract his brothers when he felt bruised but whole.
He listed off what he knew for sure. Bravo had been after an HVT. They'd breached a house on the search but had found someone else instead. He'd fallen through the floor down a story. Cerberus had been strapped to him when he fell. He felt the Malonis wiggling under his body with a soft whine to be let up. Cerb seemed okay since he'd landed on top of his handler saving the canine from the worst of the fall. He felt pretty good, but he figured that was just his adrenaline levels. His side felt numb, almost tingly. He was sure he'd feel it in the morning. Probably have some impressive bruising to go along with the ones Sonny gave him earlier. But his brothers needed him. So he pushed himself up, grabbed his gun and dog, and began firing back at the tangos attacking their position.
"We're taking heavy fire," Ray reported.
"Work the problem," Jason ordered over comms, trying to focus on his own task and not the predicament his men were in. Clay almost had the location of their HVT out of their prisoner. He just needed a few more minutes.
"Bravo One, this is base. What is your status?" Blackburn asked over the comms.
"Situation on the ground is fluid," Jason reported, quickly explaining his team's predicament.
"Haul ass to exfil," Blackburn ordered, "Those boys can't hold them off for long."
He whistled to get Clay's attention. They had brothers to go save. Clay snapped something harshly at the man in his native tongue. The man started crying and babbling. Clay turned to his boss with a triumphant look relaying the location of their target to Havoc.
"What'd you say to him?" Jason asked as Clay secured their informant to the bedpost.
The two made it down the stairs to help with the growing firefight, "I told him to talk or we'd sick the dog on him."
Jason's laughter was lost to the sound of gunfire as they began firing back.
"We got a Squirter," Sonny called out.
"Damnit, let him go," Jason ordered. They'd left the man they'd found restrained upstairs after he'd given them the intel they were after. Clearly, he'd escaped and was heading out to help his people kill the Americans. He fell to the ground in a hail of friendly fire as his supposed friends mowed him down. He would have been safer with the Americans.
"All Bravo call signs be advised, you have over twenty fighting males heading to your position," Davis warned before static took over the comms as their signal was jammed. Bravo was alone in a hostile environment about to be overrun by tangos. They needed to make it to exfil before the enemy overtook them.
"Smoke them," Jason ordered to cover their retreat.
Bravo retreated out the back of the house in the cover of smoke. Disappearing into the night as if they'd never been there. The only thing they left behind in the destroyed house were dead bodies. As they ran into the outskirts of town Brock felt pain flare-up along his side. He was unable to lift up his shirt due to his tactical gear, even if he had the time to check, but he was sure his side was bruised black and blue.
Jason must have seen him falter. Bravo One grabbed his arm, pulling him aside when they stopped briefly behind a wall to reload, "You good?"
"Nothing that'll slow me down," Brock reassured with a shrug.
"Have Trent check it out," His CO ordered quietly.
"Bravo Six is down." Brock's discomfort was forgotten at Sonny's distressed call. Bravo rushed to his side. Sonny had an unconscious Clay propped up against his side as they both sat in the dirt. The dirt that was quickly turning scarlet as Sonny tried to hold pressure against Clay's wound.
Trent knelt next to their downed rookie, "He needs a Medevac."
"We lost the Satcom with Havoc," Ray spoke up, dashing any hope of immediate air support.
Jason looked at his men. Clay was not going to be able to walk out of this mess. They would not make it to exfil carrying him on a stretcher. Their youngest team member needed help now. He needed time to think. "Brock, go keep watch," He ordered, the dog would buy them some time, sensing their enemies before any of his human teammates. Bravo One needed to work the problem in a way that got all his men home alive if not whole at this point. Clay was losing too much blood for him to make a mistake.
"Let's just schwack them all," Sonny growled.
"Clay doesn't have time for your vendetta," Ray spoke up sagely.
Brock reported back, "Boss, I found transportation," He was slightly out of breath as he ran up to the group.
"Prep him to move to exfil," Jason ordered.
"On it," Trent moved quickly, securing Clay and his wound.
"You get high, I'll get low," Ray offered as they lifted him.
"Hang on Little Buddy," Sonny soothed Clay, as he cried out in pain.
Their new transport turned out to be an old truck that thankfully still ran, if only just barely. Bravo carefully loading their precocious cargo into the bed, with the team medic focused on making sure he made it to medical help still breathing. Jason got behind the wheel, keeping the headlights dark, while the rest of his team kept alert for any threat to their escape. Cerb sat draped over Brock's lap as the truck pulled out.
They rode in silence across the dark dirt roads. Each man lost in his own thought. They would have been caught by surprise by the explosion if they were not already on high alert for possible threats. The truck was placed into park and every able-bodied operator had his weapon at the ready before the smoke cleared. The remains of some unfortunate animal were all that remained of the hidden land mine.
"We're driving through a damn minefield," Sonny cursed.
"How bad?" Jason asked their medic.
"Bad," was all Trent had time to answer as he focused back on Clay and his rapidly declining health.
"We don't have time to go around," Jason spoke to his men, "Brock can Cerb get us through?"
Brock paused deeply contemplating the request. Cerb's ability to detect the explosives and Brock's ability to correctly read his canine partner would be the only thing standing between Bravo and death. It really was no different than any other OP. Except they were all tired and emotionally compromised as one of their own fought to live. Brock nodded. His team needed him so he would push past all the fatigue, worry, and pain and get them home safely.
Brock lead Cerb to the front of the truck and gave him a command. Together they stepped into the minefield.
As a DEVGRU operator, Brock was familiar with working alone and in the dark. While being a member of an elite tier one team, he spent a lot of time with just his dog. Cerb sat down in the middle of the path. Brock carefully brushed away enough dirt to make out the land mine. Marking the place, he guided his dog along the whole length on the darkened trail. Marking a few more places that the Malinois indicated before continuing leading the way towards their prearranged exfil.
"How much farther?" Sonny demanded loudly from the truck, "The kid can't take much more of this."
"We're going as fast as we can," Jason snapped, without taking his eyes from the road. Following Brock's trail exactly. They didn't have time for any more delays.
"Stop leading us into potholes Brock! You trying to kill the Kid?" Sonny yelled out.
Brock lifted an arm in a tired wave of acknowledgment. He and Cerberus were doing a job. He didn't have time or energy to focus on Sonny's anger, Trent's hopelessness, Ray's worry, Jason's frustrations, and especially Clay's pain. Shivers began to wrack through him. He felt colder than he should, even in a desert at night. If he was thinking clearly he'd be more concerned. But it was all he could do to put one foot in front of the other, as he followed his dog, clearing the path for his brothers.
The entirety of Bravo was eventually kicked out of the infirmary to let Clay recover in peace. The doctors expected the team's rookie to make a quick and easy recovery; now that he had access to transfusions and a sterile environment. The adrenaline from the mission finally began to drain from the tired operators as they headed back to their cage. Bravo split up to take care of basic needs like showering and eating.
Brock secured his firearm, took care of his dog, and collapsed into the recliner. Too wiped to even think about food let alone being clean. His brothers found him fast asleep with his boots still on. Brock could sleep anywhere, he would just fade into the background. So nobody noticed as he started to die.
Sonny was feeling guilty. He'd been hard on Brock even before the mission went to hell. Now that he was feeling a little more human he saw the error of his reasoning and actions. The prank wasn't Brock's style. It didn't help that he'd been angry with the Kid when he got wounded. He'd seen Brock wince as he leaned back in his chair when they were waiting on word about Clay. He didn't realize how hard he'd thrown the other man against the wall. He needed to apologize so he could get some real rest. Brock had been sleeping for a while so he could hurry and wake him up to clear up his conscience then they could both get some good sleep in their own bunks. He headed over to his brother to make amends.
"Trent!" Sonny shouted, "Brock's not breathing!"
"What!?" Trent came running over half-dressed. The room broke into chaos, as much chaos as a highly trained military specialists can create in the face of the unknown. Sonny backed up as Trent moved in next to the seemingly sleeping dog handler. But his rest was not peaceful. His face was full of pain and his lips were blue. The medic gripped his shoulder trying to access the situation. Brock came awake gasping and hacking as he curled around his midsection in pain.
"Keep still Brock," Trent barked, holding his patient down by his shoulders.
"Tren'?" Brock gasped out. He didn't know what was going on, but he couldn't breathe.
"Why didn't you say anything," Trent demanded as he quickly unstrapped his friend's gear and lifted up Brock's shirt. He carefully placed his hand against the hot swollen skin. Running his fingers quickly over the dark splotchy bruises he felt multiple places that gave way under his touch.
Brock coughed hoarsely, tired of fighting, he just wanted to go back to sleep, "Wha' did ya wan' me t' say?"
"How about, 'Trent I busted my ribs and can't breathe,'" Trent quickly pulled out his blood pressure cuff before strapping it around Brock's arm. While it tightened he broke and shook an ice pack, placing it on the worst of the bruising.
"The kid needed you more," Brock spoke softly. The last mission had come back to him slowly through his haze of pain and lack of oxygen. He panted trying to catch his breath. His chest felt tight as he painfully tried to pull more air into his struggling lungs. He closed his eyes to try and control his breathing by blocking out the worst of the pain, wishing he was sleeping again.
Jason couldn't stand Brock's matter of fact tone. One of his guys got the medical help he needed at the expense of another. He knew Brock was hurting, yet he didn't make sure Trent checked him out. That wouldn't happen again, "What are we up against?"
Trent turned from his patient to report to his superior, "Based on his bruising he most likely has internal bleeding."
Sonny frowned, brow furrowed in concern, "That's not good."
"No, shit."
"Is he at risk of puncturing a lung?" Ray asked.
"His BP's in the tank," Trent grunted out, "He's a walking example of possible full-on organ ruptures"
"But he'll be okay?" Sonny was still feeling guilty. He'd like a chance to make things right with both his wounded brothers. All he really wanted was for them to be okay even if they never forgave him.
"He'll be lucky if he doesn't catch pneumonia or puncture a vital organ."
That silenced the room at that sobering thought. Their brother had been in trouble and no one had even noticed. He'd lead them through a damn minefield with broken ribs. He'd never complained or stopped. He just did his job and got them to safety. He saved Clay's life. Hopefully not at the sake of his own.
Trent did not like the sound of Brock's harsh breathing. He needed more help than Trent could give. He needed it yesterday. The medic turned to Ray, "Call the infirmary, Have them send over a stretcher."
"Is that really necessary? Can't we just take him over?" Sonny asked, ducking down to check on their canine team member in his kennel. The dog was curled up and whining quietly in distress.
"I don't want to displace the ribs any more than they already are." The team knew their roles and moved to complete their tasks in the well-rehearsed way of the best elite teams. Ray headed for the door.
"And Ray, have them prep for surgery," Trent called out over his shoulder without turning away from his patient. Ray's steps hesitated half a second before he hurried from the room. His teammate was in trouble; he needed to get him help.
"Come on Brock," Trent tapped his lax face, "Time to wake up."
Brock groaned but obediently cracked open his eyes. He squinted up into the faces of his boss and medic and knew he was in deep shit. He hurt all over, felt like he was burning alive, and struggled to catch even a little breath but he knew it was Trent and Jason he needed to worry about. But like the saying went, "If you're going through Hell, keep going." And Brock was never one to give up. He was a tier-one Navy Seal, one of the best dog handler's in the Navy, and a part of Bravo. It would be Hell for a while but he'd keep going and come out stronger on the other side because he had his brothers by his side.