Sonny walked the sterile hallways. He had never been a morning person, but for a brother, he could be. The atmosphere unsettled him, making him speed up only to freeze in the earshot of Clay's mother's room.

"I will leave my team for you," Clay cried.

Sonny had never seen his brother crying. It was a knife to the heart as much as those words of betrayal. Clay was trying to make a deal with God or the Devil or whatsoever… as it would make any difference at all!

Sonny breathed his sorrow, but that was not a good reason to give up on your brothers. And if it wasn't for the woman battling for her life right there, Sonny would have gone in and punch Clay in the face. Instead, he silently walked back the road he came.

The rumble of the motorcycle failed to cover for his thoughts, and Sonny cursed the moment he decided to wake up one hour earlier to be supportive to that ungrateful little brat. By the time he was at the base though, rage had left the space to the pure sorrow.

Sonny's heart ran back to when it was his own mother the one lying helpless in a hospital. He was just a boy back then, but sure as hell, he would have promised anyone anything in exchange for his momma's life. But it doesn't work like that. Sonny had soon learned that there were no such things as God. Demons, maybe. He had encountered them on the battlefield many times. But when your hour comes, it just comes.

Sonny adjusted his scruffy hair and looked up the clear sky. It was way too early; anyone was going to question his sanity.

"Is that a vision, or it's really Sonny Queen there?" Davis's ringing voice welcomed Sonny inside the base. "Wow, I must have drunk too much last night," she smirked.

Sonny cracked a fake laugh and aimed at the cages, but Davis reached him.

"Since when Sonny Queen can't take a joke?"

Sonny ignored her and entered the code, but she followed him inside the room and faced him. "Talk to me; this isn't the time for—"

"Ain't time for what?" Sonny grunted. "For my paranoid ideas?"

Davis calmly shook her head. "As always you're messing around all by yourself…"

"Clay wanting to leave the team is not my crazy idea but his."

"You are being paranoid, Sonny. Clay's having a hard time and will probably miss the next mission, but no one ever said he—"

The sound of the door unlocking anticipated Jason's entrance. "Am I interrupting something?"

"He said it." Sonny opened his cage door but immediately slammed it closed again.

"Who said what?" Jason stiffened, breathing thick air.

"Sonny claims Clay told him he wants to leave the team," Davis explained.

"Not to me." Sonny sat in his cage. "I overheard him telling his mother."

Jason and Davis's faces were crossed by relief and surprise.

"Did she wake up?"

"Not yet. I think Clay was talking to God or—"

Jason shook his head. "He was trying to cut a deal…"

"Someone has to talk to him." Sonny's stern voice faded into a concert of beeping phones. That would have to wait.

. . .

The morning sun beating on the hospital parking lot heated up Jason's truck. Sonny's words and the new orders Bravo Team received echoed in Jason's mind. He was sweating; time was up. Bravo one should always know what to say his men, but his military training didn't prepare him for the conversation he was about to have with Clay.

The hallways were dreadfully quiet, with the same spooky atmosphere of a village about to get reached by the conflict. Jason tried to shake off the image, but his mind was already set to the next mission. He would have preferred to be already there. The ICU was a hell of a place, one that could really spook even a well-oiled tier one operator. Jason's heart clenched at the thought the green Clay had been there day and night alone with his mind.

To not talk about the smell… Peeking in the room, Jason breathed deeply with his mouth. Clay's mother was as motionless and pale as the last time he was there, and the poor kid who sat on a chair beside the bed with fixed eyes and hands clutched to quivering legs, was almost as pale.

"Any news?" Jason handed Clay a cup of coffee and two stale muffins in a paper bag.

Clay shook his head, grabbing just the drink. As he sipped avidly, Jason placed the food on the mobile table. The regular beeping of the heart monitor was interrupted only by Clay sniffing once.

"We've been spun up," Jason said at last.

"What?" Clay jumped to his feet. "I'm not leaving her."

"I know. That's not why I told you." Jason peered at Clay's eyes with unsettling steadiness. With such marks under them, he looked like a zombie. "You'll be useless in these conditions anyway."

Clay scoffed, facing the window; he could not look at her anymore, nor at his boss while thinking to abandon his brothers…

"You can't go on like this, Clay. This is not healthy for you and not helpful for her."

"You don't know what helps her."

"You falling apart won't for sure." Jason kept his voice sharp and steady. "It could take days, or months, if she ever—"

"She will." Clay's hands formed shaky fists. "And I will be here for her."

"Look at you." Jason scanned his man. "Come on, kid, when did you last eat, or slept?"

"I can take a few nights of not sleeping." Clay sniffed and passed a hand through his rumpled air. Jason stood square foot in front of him, and Clay's eyes went from him to his mother, to the mobile table and the paper bag. "Alright," he said wearily, "I'll eat those later."

Jason nodded, not too convinced. The youngest of his men needed his help, but he could do nothing. In battle, he always knew how to save his brothers from the most awful situations, but at home… his hands scrunched in fists at the feeling he was useless to Clay. "We'll be out of reach for a couple days, but Adam will be at the base if you ever need anything."

Clay quietly shook his head, his gaze nailed at his mother. "I won't."

The heart monitor beeping systematically in the background dictated the rhythm of their thoughts. Of course. Clay was a frogman, and frogmen were not good at asking for help. They both felt it.

"Clay." Jason folded his arms and waited until his man looked him straight. "You're not thinking of resigning from the Navy, are you?"

Clay sniffed again; his hands were restless and his eyes shifty. "Who told you that?"

There it was, Jason thought, pursing his lips. It was not one of Sonny's crazy interpretations of reality. Clay was considering quitting his dream and his family. "So it's true?"

As they both settled on the chairs near the bed, Clay breathed quietly, trying to find the right words. "You know why she did this to herself?"

Jason glanced at Clay's mother, then his eyes met Clay's. That had been the first time he said his mother did that to herself in front of him. The first time he had let Jason see the little sparkle in his eyes without running from his gaze.

"In her letter, she wrote that the loneliness and the fear of me losing my life and my soul in combat lead her to lose herself and—"

"This is not your fault, Clay, " Jason snapped. "She made her own choices, you can't blame yourself for living your life and for serving your country."

"What is the point in all that if I fail the person who needs me the most?" Clay got up, his legs tingling.

Jason opened his mouth, but the buzzing of his phone distracted him. "Hey, look at me. The conversation is not over. Don't do anything until we come back, okay?"

Clay stood silent for a while, then nodded and headed to the window. Jason stared at him with the heart full of pain before silently heading out.

"I expect you guys to come back in one piece."

Jason halted by the door and smiled, Clay still cared about his brothers. Maybe it wasn't over after all.

. . .

The artificial smell, the soft light, and the rhythmic background sound had become Clay's unfailing companions. More than Stella, who spent with him all the time she could. More than Adam, who forced his way into Clay's self-isolation. More than Ash, who had surprisingly been a father for the first time since Clay could remember.

Clay savored that needed moment of solitude with his mother. His unconscious mother. The last three days since Bravo spun up without him had been a nightmare. At times, Clay had felt like he was in the desert, his blood boiling and his mouth dry. Other times, he had felt like he was underwater with malfunctioning oxygen tanks. Quite often, he had felt like he was going through BUDS again, tortured, sleep-deprived, and out of hope.

But there still was hope, Clay kept repeating himself just to stay anchored to the present. At those moments, his chest would feel lighter, and that was when the concern for the brothers he had abandoned kicked him in the stomach.

Clay opened the window. His mother needed him the most now. He took a deep breath, trying to decompress his chest, then sat back in the uncomfortable chair near the motionless figure laid on the bed. His brothers could take care of themselves and of each other, his mother couldn't. She only had him.

Clay's hands itched; his legs couldn't stop quivering. The only thought in his mind was how he kept proving to be a failure. A big failure to his mother, to his brothers, to his girlfriend… to himself… He didn't know what to do anymore.

A familiar voice grabbed him from the edge of the abyss. "How you doing, son?"

"Before you say anything," Clay cleared his throat, "I slept a few hours and ate a full lunch. I haven't been here long."

"Good." Ash settled near his son. "Any news?"

Clay shook his head helplessly. "They say her vitals are stable and her heart is strong, but they can't say anything more until she wakes up." His intake of breath was almost audible. "I don't know how long I can—" he suddenly stiffened, his eye catching something his brain could not properly process.

"You have to take all that pressure off yourself."

Clay huffed.

The rhythmic beeping filled the room. Ash stiffened, too. "Do you really want to bail your carrier to stay here staring at—"

Clay glared at him. "Since when do you care about my life."

"You're being unfair, Clay. I've always cared about you." Ash sighed. "Your mother and I always wanted for you to take your own path one day, without carrying the weight of our choices."

"You agreed on something? That's new."

Ash shook his head. "Adam told me how good you are for Bravo and how Bravo is good for you. He claims you'll soon be better than I ever was."

Clay's hands clasped his legs. His frustration had reached the maximum level.

"Son, you really need—"

"Shut up." Clay leaned over, his heart pounding.

"Oh, come on!" Ash lifted his arms in disappointment.

"Look." Clay jumped to his feet and approached the bed. "There. Have you seen it?"

They both stared breathlessly at Clay's mother's index finger. It moved.

"Mom…" Clay fought back the tears as her eyes fluttered open, and Ash rushed out to call for some nurse. "Mom, it's me." Clay took her hand. "I'm right here."

. . .

Since his mother woke up two days ago, Clay had not been allowed to spend as much time with her as he did before. Physically, she was out of the woods, but mentally, was a whole other story. Any minute he was allowed to spend with her, he was there, and any minute was harder. He still could do little to nothing for her.

His mother refused to talk. At first, she did nothing but apologize, but rather quickly, she closed in herself completely. Clay had been patient like a sniper and tried to comfort her and make her understand it was not her fault, but silence was hall he had. He had to live with the hope the psychologist was more successful than him.

Always sat in that uncomfortable chair, Clay exhaled loudly. That silence was ever thicker than the quiet of her previous coma.

How was it possible? Clay's muscles were restless all the time. How could his mother wrote to him she missed him that much to try taking her life, and now that he was right there, she kept ignoring him?

Clay got up and shook his head to his sleeping mom. She didn't do much more than napping now. He well remembered how messed up she was when he was younger, but he recalled, too, how hard she fought in all those years to stay sober and stable. Clay moved to the window. Was it possible he had really been that blinded all his life? He took a deep breath, he was a SEAL, a fixer, and staying there sitting on his hands killed him.

Sitting back, Clay checked his phone. Adam had told him Bravo Team was going to be back that day with another successful mission on their record. He was sure his brothers would have done it even without him. That was hurting and comforting at the same time.

How could he face them and tell them he was abandoning them forever?

During those long days, Clay had made his decision, he would leave the military to take care of his mother. Her battle was more important than anything. Clay's stomach cramped every time he thought about it. He still had not told anyone, not his mom, not Stella, not his superiors… something inside him was deeply against that troubled decision.

Clay checked his phone again. Visiting hours were almost over. He stared at his mother for a few minutes, leaving her like that was incredibly hard every single time.

. . .

The day had come. A gray sky had welcomed Clay outside his apartment. His license was expired, and he had to show up at the base. He would communicate his choice to his superiors and to his team, but before that, he needed to go see his mother.

Clay settled in the driver seat and took a deep breath. Will his mother even care about his decision? And will his brothers understand that? He gripped the wheel tight. They were going to feel betrayed, and, probably, will say he had been with them so briefly they would easily do without him.

Parking his car, Clay wasn't sure he took the right decision, but he had chosen, and there was no going back. He looked around the semi-deserted parking lot, then glanced at his wristwatch. Even if the rainy clouds had not been there blocking its rays, the sun wouldn't have had the time to warm up the air and the earth yet.

Clay took a deep breath; a SEAL doesn't hesitate. But he wasn't going to be a SEAL for long. If only his mother could give him a little sign that he was doing the right thing…

Walking the white hallway, Clay kept repeating in his head the conversation he had with Stella the night before. She had immediately liked the idea of him leaving that dangerous life, but tried to hide her enthusiasm, working with him on the pros and cons.

Stella would have been supportive whatever Clay had decided, but the smile she had on after his final choice had been apparent.

That morning, Clay's heart weighed like a rock, but a little sparkle of light was about to pierce the blanket of fog. His mother sat comfortably by the window. Her eyes beamed at him, lightly but kindly, in a way they had not done in a lifetime.

"Mom?"

"Baby—" she smiled sadly. A soft breeze messed up her hair; her hands caressed nervously the blanket she had on her legs. "I'm glad you're here."

"Are you" —Clay cleared his throat— "Are you feeling better?"

Tears veiled her eyes. "We need to talk. You think you have a minute for me?"

"I'll always be here for you, mom." Clay dragged a second chair next to hers.

Downhearted eyes accompanied a lip-closed smile. "That's the thing we should discuss."

Clay shifted uneasily in his seat.

"I am sorry for what I put you through all your life. Especially in the last few days…"

"It's okay, mom. It was not your fault."

"Yes, it was," she said in a shaky voice. "I'm done searching for excuses. I need to put my life back together."

"It was not, and I'm here to help you." Clay leaned toward her, meeting her eyes.

"There are things a woman should do alone."

"You know that dependence and depression are illness—" Clay's grandparents had explained that to him as soon as he was old enough to understand— "and none of this is your fault, right?"

"That's why I'm taking professional help." Clay's mother took her son's hand in hers. "Before this, I've been clean for over twenty years. I did it for you, Clay, but that wasn't enough. This time I need to do it for me."

Clay's heart was pounding. What was she saying now, that she didn't need him anymore? After all he—

But this wasn't about him. This was about her.

"I still need you, baby," she, squeezing his hand. I was like she could read his mind. "This will be the hardest thing I've ever done, and I will still need you at my side, just…"

"I'll do anything."

"We both need to learn when it's time to force yourself in and when it's time to let me do the work alone."

"How?" Clay shook his head. He was used to do. Hurry up and wait was hard enough on the job, and not having a clear direction to take was difficult to bear now.

"Patience and attempts?" She shrugged while a tear slowly rolled down her cheek. "Time it's all I have now… but you, Clay, you have much more." She sniffed. "Don't pause your life for me. Don't give up on your dreams."

Clay sniffed, too. "You taught me to always do the right thing for the people you love. Even when it hurts you."

"Oh, baby… don't. I should have taught you that taking care of your own happiness is as much as important—"

"I thought that had been dad's job…"

"—and to distinguish when putting yourself aside will do more damage than healing…" she forced a smile. "I'm sorry, but that's something I'm still learning myself…"

It was rare for Clay to not know what to say, but this time, he didn't.

"I talked to your father, you know... He's really trying."

"Hasn't he done messing up with you?" Clay got up and took a deep breath by the window.

"I was always wrong, Clay. The problem between us had never been the job, and not even him maybe. I was truly proud of what Ash did for a living. Quite as much as I'm proud of you. And… The problem with your father was that he was never home even when he was..."

Clay exhaled softly. "Yeah…"

"The nurses told me how your Capitan and your squad took care of you while I was… while I was asleep…"

Clay's hand rubbed the back of his head. "They're a Master Chief and a Team, but yeah…"

"They are good for you, and you are good for them as much as you're good for me." She exhaled loudly. "This time, I think I can work on sharing you. But you have to promise me two things now, baby."

"Anything," Clay said, sitting back beside her.

Clay's mother took both his hands in hers and locked eyes with him. "Don't give up on your dreams—"

Clay sighed.

"—and don't make the same mistake as your dad. Find the balance, work on yourself. Be there when you're there and here when you're here. You think you can do that for me?"

"I'll do." Clay cleared his throat. "I promise."

"Oh, this won't be easy for neither of us." Clay's mother wiped tears from her cheeks. "Will it?"

Clay smiled encouragingly. "The only easy day was yesterday."

While looking down at their connected hands, Clay glanced at his wristwatch. It was time to go to the base. It was time to communicate his Team he was back. The only problem now would be how to tell Stella he had changed his mind again. But she was smart and caring; she would understand.

Now Clay knew he could have anything he dreamed of. His heart sensed that because the fight didn't scare him.

.

Author's note: This is the end. Thank you so much for taking this ride with me.
And thanks for all those kind words in the reviews. I'm sorry if I couldn't get back to everyone in person, but I appreciated every single comment.

It was hard to find a proper ending, but I'm glad I finally finished this because I truly needed it to come to a conclusion. I have to admit that if I had written this a few time ago, it would most probably have ended tragically. But not now. Now I was ready for some positivity.

Quick note on the last two scenes: this story was about Clay, about how he handled his mother's struggles, and how, despite feeling loved, he chose to self-isolate. This is one of the reasons why I didn't go too deep in his mother's POV and why those last two scenes may seem a little rushed.

What Clay's mother had was not a miraculous healing. It was a good day, a starting point for her recovery. When she woke up, she battled with shame, guilt, and feeling a burden to her son, then found the courage to talk it through with a psychologist before being able to open up with Clay. It wasn't easy. She was brave. But the journey is still long.

Clay experienced this as if it was his responsibility. He closed in himself, thinking he should be his mother's hero. But he could not if she didn't want to fight.
If a person close to you is struggling with mental health, please don't give up on them. Respect and encourage them, but at the same time, don't forget about yourself. Self-care is important for the 'helpers' too.

That's why Clay is not giving up on his dreams and on his other family, despite now being more conscious about the importance of his relationship with his mother.

And if you're the one who's struggling, you don't have nor should handle your mental health struggles by yourself, but you should fight for yourself. Doing it for someone else, too, may help at moments, but self-care is a priority. You are important. You are not alone. You're worthy. You can do it.

I apologize for the little digression but I felt it was important to share.
Thank you.