Alphabet Injuries – SEAL Team

by missblueeyes63

Alphabet Injuries collection of pure Clay whump and brotherhood situations. Many chapters will be stand-alone stories for one letter of the alphabet, however, several stories cross multiple letters: H-I-J, K-L-M, N-O-P (N follows a separate story called Fading into Nothingness), and S-T-U.

9. Injuries and Intrigue

Injuries and Intrigue

---

Mexican Marine Headquarters - Infirmary

Jason leaned on the doorjamb of Clay's room, staring at the kid, lost in thought as the mechanical sounds of the ventilator breathing for Spenser echoed in his head. The beating the kid suffered from the hockey stick as he hung from the hook not only bruised his lungs but filled his pleural cavity with blood and the resulting hemothorax collapsed his right lung. The surgeon almost lost their rookie on the table as he repaired the damage to Clay's intestines and liver. They intubated him to give his lungs an opportunity to heal.

The last three days dragged on as they all waited for Spenser to wake. Blackburn and Martinez agreed with him that Clay would not be safe in the hospital with too many ingress points and unknown people having access. Especially since Doza had his hooks into the facility … the drug cartel leader funded the hospital's construction.

So, the morning after Clay's operation they moved him from the intensive care unit to the secure marine compound. Dr. Irving, Bravo team's doctor, believed an air-evac to the States was too risky given Spenser's precarious condition, so he arranged for all necessary medical equipment and supplies to be delivered in record time, and two Navy nurses were also flown in to provide round the clock care.

If Jason was honest with himself, he was glad the kid remained here. He didn't want Clay waking up isolated without his brothers around him for support. He had not missed Sonny's words on the hotel roof … 'he hurt so much he needed to drown out his heartache.' Jason probed Sonny yesterday, and his 3IC finally revealed Stella dumped Clay right before they boarded the flight to Mexico.

He understood the emotional turmoil Clay was going through. Alana had told him she could no longer be his wife anymore right before they deployed to J-bad after Steve Porter and the rest of Echo died. The kid's demeanor since arriving in Mexico fit the heart-wrenching pain Jason experienced back then … loss of a friend and rejection from the woman he loved.

This was another reason he was relieved the kid was here and not back in Virginia. Spenser would not have anyone by his side to help him deal with the aftereffects of both the torture and his breakup back home. With Brian and Adam gone, Bravo was Clay's only friends … brothers, and with Stella out of the picture, no one would be there to care for him.

Naima would offer to sit with him and take care of him, but Clay didn't really know Ray's wife well enough to accept her help. So, Spenser would be in a vulnerable state and all alone. An indefensible situation in Jason's book since he was the reason Clay and Sonny ended up taken in the first place. His team was family, and the kid needed them more than ever now.

Jason needed to quit messing up with the kid, or they would lose him one way or another. I screwed up and got Nate killed. I won't allow that to happen to Clay. Jason's hand rubbed his thigh, something which happened when thoughts of Nate crept back in.

"Any signs of waking?" Sonny asked as he returned after going to grab lunch at Jason's insistence.

Jason shook his head. "No." He gave Sonny a once over, satisfied he finally began to appear somewhat rested, though he doubted Sonny's insomnia abated. Sonny had not left Spenser's side except for the short breaks he forced him to take. Dr. Irving wanted to keep Quinn on the inactive list for another week at least after the significant blow Sonny received to the side of his head, and Jason agreed without reservation.

It took a lot to bring Sonny Quinn down, and he didn't take well to sitting idle, but in this case, with the kid hurt, Sonny didn't balk once at being told to stand down. Jason also recognized Sonny carried guilt over the attack. He tried several times to talk him out of it, to no avail.

Not one to give up, Jason tried again, "This isn't your fault. I'm the one who suggested you take him out. This is on me."

Resuming his seat, Sonny peered at Jason. He had ample time to ruminate on the situation in the past three days. "Not only on you or me … we both knew better. Should've told you what was going on and not taken the kid outside the wire and gotten inebriated. We both fucked up and must atone for our indiscretions and irresponsible actions."

Sonny's gaze shifted to Clay. The invasive tube attached to his mouth, the one running down the kid's throat to provide oxygen, disturbed him more than all the other wires and drainage tubes poking out of his torso. He rubbed his forehead with his fingertips as the ever-present, infernal headache pulsed and ratcheted up another increment. Concussions suck big time.

"Wish the kid would wake. We won't know how bad the injury to his head is until he does." Sonny focused on the abrasion around Clay's throat as his mind's eye replayed images of Clay being heaved off the roof with the noose around his neck. The sickening thought of the kid's neck snapping and the knowledge Clay fell two-floors and Sonny couldn't stop any of it, caused bile to rise and his gut to twist. He grabbed the emesis basin as he became ill.

Jason moved to the sink, wetted a cloth and filled a glass for Sonny. Though Sonny always projected an impenetrable, tougher-than-nails exterior, in truth, he was not impervious and possessed a caring heart. He would allow Sonny the dignity to claim the vomiting was due to the concussion, but having hurled himself after viewing the photos which ended up on the internet of Clay impaled by the whaling hook, he understood Sonny's current ralphing likely had to do with the kid's state.

Fortunately, Clay's face had been mostly unrecognizable in the snapshots due to the blood covering it and the position. Their IT guy continued to delete them every time they reappeared, and he hoped no one back home ever viewed them.

When Sonny finished, Jason handed over the water and waited while he rinsed before giving him the cloth. "Concussions are no joke. You might be down for longer than a week."

Sonny only grunted as he wiped his mouth. As he started to rise to dump the basin, Clay's day nurse appeared and relieved him of it and the rag, so he sat back down. Resting his elbows on his thighs, he lowered his face into his palms and sighed as the throbbing in his skull intensified. "What if he doesn't wake?"

Jason placed a hand on Sonny's shoulder. "He's one tough kid. Take a page from his book and remain optimistic."

Turning his head, Sonny gazed at Jason again. "Mary Poppins here does have the irritating habit of looking at the bright side of things."

A grin formed on Jason's face as the weirdest thought popped into his head. "I don't think anyone on Bravo has racked up as many nicknames as Spenser. Kid, Pretty Boy, Pin-up Girl, Peter Pan, Mr. GQ, Poster Boy, Young Jedi, Cover Girl, Bam-Bam, Ken Doll, and Hércules Hero."

Despite feeling crappy and worried sick about the kid, Sonny mirrored Jason's grin as he added, "Don't forget Blondie."

Jason nodded, but said, "That one is unoriginal. Besides, remember the Canadian's we encountered … I think Blondie belongs to Blaze's unit guy. We've got Goldilocks."

Both quieted as the nurse approached Clay to take his vitals. The medical staff watched him like a hawk, which all of the guys appreciated. The frown on her face caused Jason's apprehension to spike. "He doing okay?"

Shelia flinched at the master chief's inquiry. The implacable man unsettled her and relaying bad news about one of his men stirred up untold anxiety in her. "Um … I … well,"

"Spit it out," Jason demanded.

Sonny took pity on the intimidated nurse and used his soft Texas drawl as he said, "His bark is worse than his bite. How's our boy?"

Focusing on the one who never left her patient's side, Shelia gathered her wits and answered, "His temp is going up again. Not a good sign. Dr. Irving might need to change up the antibiotic to fight the infection."

Jason raked a hand through his hair. "Damn, the kid doesn't need to be fighting an infection on top of everything else."

"The hook was none too clean when they impaled …" Sonny trailed off as nausea threatened him again. The inhuman actions of Gonzales he would never forget nor Clay's scream. He couldn't sleep because the kid's howl haunted his dreams.

Trent entered, wanting to check on both Sonny and Clay and caught the last of Sonny's words. He tried to assuage Sonny's fears. "Kid's got a strong immune system, and he is damned stubborn. With the right meds, he's gonna fight this and come out on top."

As Shelia left to make her notes and contact the doctor, Brock and Ray sauntered in to check on Clay as well. With no intel on Doza to go on recently, they were all waiting around as Mandy, and her Mexican counterpart dug for information. Though, each of them silently gave thanks they had not been sent out yet even though this mission was now personal and they wanted payback for what Clay suffered.

Ray stopped near Jason. "Derek and Full Metal from Alpha team will be flying down the day after tomorrow to cover for Clay and Sonny. The rest of Alpha will be running a training cycle with Green team. Admiral Droit almost scrubbed us and brought in Charlie, but Blackburn went to bat for us."

As the team discussed the news Ray brought, none of them noted the slight twitch of Clay's hand.

Clawing his way up from the depths of hell … or better yet the Arctic with as cold as he was, unsure of anything other than pain and the inability to breathe, Clay attempted to move his icy, leaded arms to his throat to pull out whatever had been shoved down. Unable to lift a hand or call out for help, fighting for air, the sense of drowning overtook him. A high-pitched, incessant ringing filled his ears as he began to struggle against the hands of his father dragging him down to his death.

Trent went into action as the alarm went off as Clay fought against the ventilator's forced breaths. He didn't worry the kid would pull out the tubing, he had the insight to restrain his hands to the bed, but he forgot about his lower body. "Jace, Brock grab his legs. Ray get the doc," he ordered as he moved to Clay's head.

"Relax, Kid. Don't fight. Let the ventilator do its job. Relax." Trent continued speaking, trying to break through to his semi-conscious brother.

"Sonny, hold his left arm, so he doesn't knock the cast around and hurt himself," Jason called out as he held onto Clay's thrashing leg.

"At least he can't kick me out of a helo this time," Brock quipped as he latched on to the bare foot and pushed the limb down on the mattress, moving his other hand to depress Clay's knee too.

"Kid, stop fighting this instant," Sonny bellowed irregardless of the pain it caused his aching head as he pinned Clay's arm.

Panic consumed Clay as he blinked open his eyes as someone yelled at him, which increased his struggling instead of abating it.

"Stand down," Jason commanded in a voice which brooked no dissent. Gaining Clay's attention, he continued with the harsh authority, recognizing it was the only thing cutting through. "Stay still. You are intubated. Calm and let it breath for you." As Clay's resistance lessened, Jason relaxed his tone a bit. "Good. Good. That's it. You're safe. We got you, Kid."

Dr. Irving and Shelia rushed in with Ray. Irving went straight to the head of the bed and started talking to his patient, assessing the situation and listening to Clay's lungs, determining now would be a good time to remove the ventilator.

As the alarm quieted, Clay's body sagged, the exertion of the last few moments taking all his energy. Confused, he listened to the doctor and the sensation of drowning ebbed as he quit battling against the forced air. The process of pulling out the tubing was not fun, his throat was on fire, but at least he could breathe on his own. Though, doing so caused additional pain. He attempted to move his right hand again to press against his chest.

"Sorry, buddy, had to restrain you or else you could've done more damage if you yanked out the tube on your own." Trent unlatched the soft cuff holding Clay's wrist as the doctor adjusted the flow of oxygen through the nasal cannula and the nurse released Clay's other hand.

Clay eyed the men around him. He wanted to talk, to ask questions, but making any sound would as impossible as swallowing a bowling ball … not happening.

Dr. Irving said, "Well, son, breathing on your own is progress, but you will need to take things very slow. Speaking will hurt for a few days so refrain from doing too much." He turned to the concerned teammates. "Try to stick to only yes or no questions so he can nod or shake his head to answer."

Clay's eyes drifted shut, keeping them open took way too much effort.

"Open your eyes," Trent demanded, not caring he overstepped his position, but needing to know the extent of the head injury.

With a great deal of effort, Clay opened them and peered at the man with long hair and a beard … not the doctor.

"Are you in Virginia?" Trent inquired.

Clay nodded.

"Shit," Sonny muttered.

"Are you in Mexico City?"

Confusion lit Clay's eyes, and he shook his head. He wanted to ask why the idiotic question since he just answered yes to being in Virginia.

Trent's gaze met the doctor's. "Not good."

Irving considered the next question. "Do you know your name?" Getting a nod, he said, "Whisper."

"Wait." Trent peered at Shelia. "Get me some ice chips."

Clay's eyes slipped closed again as he forced out, "Cl … ay … Sp … en … ser."

Shelia returned with a cup and Trent scooped up two tiny pieces. "Open up. This will help quench the fire and make it easier."

The icy liquid did feel good, but speaking would still be an immense challenge. His body began to shiver, the cold he experienced upon waking reasserting itself. "Co … ld."

"Fever," Trent replied.

Dr. Irving inserted himself, regaining control, though he no longer resented Trent's intrusion into his domain. The medic cares deeply for his brothers, and he is an intelligent man … doctor material. "So, you are in Virginia, is that correct?"

Clay nodded.

"What is the last thing you remember?"

Jason and the rest waited on pins and needles for Clay to answer, especially since the kid believed he was back home.

His mind scrambled, things incongruent, wondering what the hell happened in training to land him in the hospital with Hayes' infamous Bravo team surrounding his bed. Clay lit on the last solid memory. Ah shit! He cracked his eyes open and peered at Hayes who appeared irate with his arms crossed on his chest.

More ice was spooned into his mouth, and Clay used the time it melted to gather the energy necessary to speak, hating to admit his failure. "Lea … ving … the … gym … after … bot … tom … five … pos … ted."

Jason's eyes flared as he sought out Trent. "What the hell?" They turned back to Spenser. "The last thing you recall is finding out you were in the bottom five of Green team?"

Giving a slight nod, Clay lost his battle with staying awake even though he wanted to know what happened to him.

Dr. Irving noted Clay slipped off. "Shelia, administer the fever reducer and change out the antibiotics to what I ordered. We need to drop his temp and get this infection under control."

"How can he lose so much time?" Brock inquired.

"That's over a year ago. He lost a whole year?" Sonny gaped.

"It's not unheard of with head injuries. We may be looking at retrograde amnesia, but I won't know without further testing." Irving rechecked Clay's vitals, not entirely happy with the oxygen saturation so he increased the level until satisfied.

"Will his memory come back?" Ray moved to the foot of the bed and waited for Irving to answer.

"Perhaps. A lot of the mind's workings are still inexplicable. Some people retrieve all memories, and some never regain the lost time. He is too exhausted now to do further analysis. Tomorrow will be soon enough. Take heart in the fact he woke, can speak, and is coherent. A few lost memories is incredibly lucky given the height of his fall and the other injuries he suffered."

The doctor's words sank in and the guys all nodded … Clay was indeed fortunate to be alive.

---

Mexican Marine Headquarters – Roof Firepit

The guys along with Lisa and Eric all gathered on the rooftop under the night sky. Most lost in thoughts centered on Clay as they sipped beer. Only Sonny remained empty-handed, denied alcohol by Trent again due to his concussion.

Lisa broke the silence. "Does anyone know when exactly Clay met Stella?" She received shrugs all around. She pursed her lips in thought. "Depending on when, he might not recall his relationship with her. If he regains his memories, he's gonna go through the heartbreak all over again."

Jason took a swig. "Not the only one."

Nodding Ray said, "His buddy Brian died after the list was posted."

"And Adam too," Sonny added wishing he could become intoxicated to deal with the guilt consuming him.

"Should we tell him or wait for him to remember?" Lisa asked as she focused on Trent

When all eyes landed on him, Trent growled. "Don't know. Give me a bullet wound to treat, and I'm your guy. Head injuries of this sort …" He shook his head. "I'm not a neurologist nor versed memory loss."

Brock peered at Jason and Eric. "What happens to his place on the team if he can't remember?"

Jason took another swig, not a question he wanted to think about now. He wanted to inoculate himself with enough beer so he didn't have to feel the remorse for his inexcusable decision to send Sonny and Clay out to a bar to loosen the kid's tongue, but he wouldn't. As team leader, his job was to stay on task and ensure the welfare of his men … something he refused to fail at again.

"If he heals physically and passes a psychological exam, I see no reason he couldn't come back," Eric said, though part of him didn't believe it would be possible given the almost insurmountable obstacles to Clay's recovery. A fact he kept to himself since he was not ignorant of the likelihood of Sonny going off like a roman candle for even suggesting Clay wouldn't return.

"Keyword is if." Ray stood and moved to the roof's edge and stared down into the center of the compound. Guilt weighed on him. His shot resulted in Spenser falling and hitting his head, causing the kid's memory issue, but if he hadn't fired, the kid would be dead. He just couldn't figure out if Clay would thank him or curse him if he could no longer be an operator.

During his time teaching Green team after his shoulder injury, Ray almost went insane not being able to be part of Bravo. All team guys had one thing in common … they wanted to fight the good fight, and if they were incapacitated, they withered on the vine.

Having been away from Clay for far too long … again at the insistence of Jason, Sonny stood. "Calling it a night."

"I'll head on inside with you. The insects are eating me up tonight." Lisa tossed her half-filled beer in the trash. Her guys were falling apart, and she didn't know how to put them back together, but for tonight she would keep Sonny company in Clay's room. The teddy bear needed someone to watch out for him too.

---

Virginia – University – Faculty Office

Frank Isaksson stared at the image, and a sneer came to his face. His hatred for Stella's boyfriend increased as word of the soldier's idiotic heroics at the gallery swirled around him. Stella deserved someone more refined, someone who wasn't a warmonger, … someone like him. "Hey, Morgan. You gotta see this." He waved over his colleague whom he had been at odds with ever since the heist at the Farris Gallery.

Working later than normal, and irritated at being interrupted in grading the boatload of poorly written essays, Morgan glanced over at Frank. "What do I have to see?"

"I think this is a photo of Stella's guy."

Morgan pushed back his chair and stood. He stretched his back before ambling over. Isaksson's obsession with Stella, or more precisely trying to find incriminating dirt on her boyfriend to dissuade her from continuing a relationship with the guy, was becoming irksome.

"Okay, so what do you think you found this—" Morgan abruptly stopped as his eyes rounded and his brows shot to the ceiling. "Jesus H. Christ!" Morgan's stomach did several loops, his dinner now unsettled, as he viewed the image of a beaten and bloody man hanging from a hook. "That's inhumane. How in the world did you find something like that?"

"Just popped up when I was searching." Frank leaned back after hitting the print button. "Another example of our military sticking their noses into international affairs. We have no business going into Mexico and dealing with a drug lord. We aren't the world's police force."

Morgan's hand shook as he rubbed the back of his neck. "Why are you printing that?"

"Thought Stella might be interested in seeing."

"ARE YOU INSANE? NO WAY AM I ALLOWING YOU TO SHOW THIS TO STELLA!" Morgan grabbed the printout and ripped it in half.

"I can always print another copy." Frank right clicked to select print again.

"Why would you want her to view something so utterly brutal. She loves the guy, and you want to hurt her intentionally by showing her this?" Incredulous and incensed, Morgan waved the two pieces at Frank. "You're despicable. Your thought process is unbalanced. If you follow through with this … our friendship will be irrevocably broken."

"Why shouldn't she be aware of what his activities wrought?" Frank clicked print. "This is his just desserts for trying to play hero."

Usually not a violent man, Morgan didn't hold back as he let his fist fly. He shook out his hand, his knuckles throbbing, likely busting a couple when his fisted hand connected with Frank's jaw. "You're an ignoramus!" he declared to Isaksson's inert body which sagged in the chair, his one punch knocking out his former friend.

Grabbing the second printout, Morgan took both to the shredder and destroyed the images. He blew out a breath before fishing for his cell and placing a call to Stella. When she answered, he said, "Hello, Stella. I was wondering if you would grab a drink with me. I need to talk to you about something important." He paused as she indicated she was busy and asked if it could wait until tomorrow. "No, it can't wait, and I don't want to speak on the phone."

When she agreed and suggested that they meet at the Iron Iris coffee shop in twenty minutes, he hung up the phone. Morgan took one last glance at the insensitive and insufferable asshole who used to be a friend before he strode out of the office.

---

Mexican Marine Headquarters – Infirmary

Isabella wiped the sweat from her patient's forehead again. The fever as a result of the infection had gotten worse, not better even after the change in antibiotics. When she took over from Shelia after dinner, her colleague told her Dr. Irving wanted updates every thirty minutes.

She peered at the bruised face of the blond SEAL as she wrung out the cloth after dipping it in cool water. He would be irresistibly handsome without all the inflammation. She glimpsed his blue eyes when he woke briefly an hour ago. His fever made him incoherent as he called out for someone named Stella. His moans and whimpers broke her heart when he moved earlier, and she injected another dose of morphine via his IV port to ease his pain.

Sonny and Lisa entered as the night nurse took Clay's temperature. "Fever going down?" Sonny asked as he moved to the bed and picked up the washcloth, dipped it into the pan of water, squeezed it out, and gently dabbed at Clay's face.

Lisa couldn't stop the upturn of her lips … most people only ever saw the irascible side of Sonny, never the sensitive and caring side.

"Going up, not down," Isabella answered as she dialed the doctor. After a short conversation, she gazed at the burly SEAL. "I hate to impose on you, but I could use your help. The doc wants me to use the cooling pads which means I'm going to have to reposition Clay to put them under him."

"Whatever you need." Sonny set the rag down.

"I'll help too," Lisa offered as she moved forward.

Isabella hurried out and returned several moments later with her arms full. "We'll need to roll him on his left side first, but need to raise his broken arm above his head so no weight is placed on it." As they worked, Isabella said, "Before you came in, he was mumbling a name. Do you know who Stella is?"

Lisa averted her eyes as Clay's bare butt became visible as the indiscreet hospital gown shifted when they rolled him. Her tone icy, angry at Stella, she answered, "She's no one important."

"Sure sounded like she might be …" Isabella trailed off as she caught sight of a flash of inconspicuous hatred on Sonny's face. She sucked in her bottom lip and chewed on it. Well, now, there must be a story there, but it is not my place to pry.

Pulled from oblivion as agony increased, Clay moaned. Lifting his eyelids to find out what was going on took too much effort. He groaned again as his body shifted, the pain in his right side and left arm shooting to the moon. "St … op," he begged in a broken voice barely above a whisper which caused his throat to catch fire again.

"Sorry, brother, gotta move you. You're burning up with fever, and we need to douse the fire," Sonny crooned in his soft drawl. He grimaced knowing he was causing the kid pain but understood the need to move him.

The voice sounded familiar … like someone Clay trusted. He moaned again as he was laid flat on his back. He shivered when coming in contact with something icy. He wanted off but didn't dare move as he panted through the all-consuming pain.

"Now, let's carefully shift him on the right … we need to ensure the sutures are not pulled," Isabella instructed as she prepared to lay the cooling pad under Spenser's left side.

"Aaaaarrrrghhh," erupted from Clay and morphed into moaning as they turned him to his right side. Instinct drove him to lash out, but he was ineffectual in his attempt to strike … a two-ton weight wrapped around his arm preventing him from lifting it.

"Whoa there, Bam-Bam!" Sonny grabbed for Clay's casted arm, holding it in place, so he didn't cause further harm. "I know it hurts, and I wouldn't do this unless necessary." He glanced at the nurse. "When can he have more meds?"

"Not for another hour. With his lung injury, we can't give him as much morphine as we'd like because the medication depresses respiration and the doctor doesn't want him getting insufficient oxygen."

As the heart rate monitor started beeping, Sonny leaned in close. "Okay listen up, Goldilocks. We're gonna breathe together, and you're gonna get through this. Inhale. Hold. Exhale. That's right. Inhale … hold … exhale." Sonny kept up the chant as Clay calmed and followed along.

Clay latched onto the voice, finding comfort in the timbre as he breathed through the pain. He shivered uncontrollably as he was lowered to his back once again. "Cccc oooold."

"I know, I know. We got you laying on an igloo to bring down your fever." Sonny held the kid's hand as his eyes misted ever so slightly, wanting to relieve his little brother's discomfort.

Lisa wished she could do something to help Clay, but in reality, she knew she couldn't take his pain or fever away, so she only stood at the foot of the bed and observed as Sonny attempted to keep Clay relaxed.

His eyes opening in a narrow slit, Clay found the voice belonged to Bravo's weapons expert, a man with a reputation of being an inscrutable hard-ass. The inconsistency between what he knew of Quinn and the fact he held his hand and spoke kind words confused Clay. Why is Quinn even here? Where is Brian? What happened to me? He wanted answers, but before he could form any words, the arms of Morpheus encircled him, pulling him back down into the black abyss.

Sonny sighed as Clay's hand went lax in his, relieved the kid found escape from his torment in insensibility. He stayed a few more moments before setting the kid's hand on the lightweight sheet and moving to the recliner Trent relocated to this room for him. Dropping into the chair, Sonny's gaze met Lisa's. "I don't know how to do this."

"You sure? You calmed him down quite well." Lisa pulled one of the plastic chairs closer to Sonny.

"You didn't see his eyes. I think he blames me." Sonny leaned back and let out a long breath.

"How can he? He doesn't even remember. And besides, this isn't your fault. That lies with Doza and his indentured goons."

"But he was calling for Stella."

"That could be subconscious …" Lisa sighed. "You know, that is probably a positive sign. If unconsciously he recalls her, then his memories are not lost. It might take a little time, but I'm hopeful they will return."

"And when they do … he'll blame me … as is only right." Sonny raked a hand over his face.

"Sonny—"

"No," he interrupted. "I'm the senior member. I should've used my head. I shouldn't have taken him outside the compound no matter what Jason said."

Lisa shook her head, not liking this whole situation in the least. "Jace shouldn't have told you to take him out."

"I should have told Jason what is up. He has too much on his mind after Alana died and having to manage Emma and Mikey on his own. I let Clay down. He is my responsibility, and I failed him. Ray's the only one with a clear head … but he also laid into the kid the morning after we went out the first time and told him he doesn't get to second guess Jason."

Sonny shifted. "Maybe the kid was right to question Jason's headspace. He should've questioned mine too. When Clay recalls, if he does, he will most likely request a transfer. Might be the best thing for him … he needs a team that won't let him down."

Her ire up, Lisa bit back, "What Clay needs is Bravo. You all need each other. It's time you quit wallowing in self-pity, pull up your bootstraps and be there for Spenser. You know damned well he would lay his life on the line for each and every one of you … and has numerous times. The least you can do is to stop this crap thinking and man-up for him when he needs you all the most."

Duly chastised Sonny gaped at Lisa as she stood.

"Now, the best way you can help him is to ensure you don't fall ill. Get your butt up out of that chair, go to your bed and get some decent sleep. You'll need to be well rested when he wakes tomorrow because I'm sure he's gonna have a ton of questions." Lisa crossed her arms and glared at Sonny. Someone had to kick his ass in gear, and it looked like it fell to her.

"I'll sleep here," Sonny responded.

"No, you won't." Lisa pointed to the door. "Move. I'll stay here tonight, and his nurse is more than competent. Go rest."

Grumbling, Sonny rose and headed for the door. At the entry, he stopped and turned. "Call me if anything changes or he needs me."

"Will do." Lisa heavily exhaled as Sonny exited.

Isabella chuckled. "Wow. If I didn't know better, I'd say you were an officer with the way you got him to comply. And by the way, thanks … he needed sleep."

Lisa only nodded as she moved to the recliner and sat. She still hadn't told anyone about her commission and decided to hold off indefinitely since Bravo appeared to be in a freefall with no backup chute. Will Bravo survive this mission as an intact team?

---

Iron Iris Coffee Shop

Stella gaped at Morgan as he finished. "Why would Frank want to show me something so horrible?" She couldn't wrap her head around some items. One, Frank would intentionally search for things on Clay. Two, how he thought that would engender him to her. And three, most importantly … "Wait, was it Clay?"

Morgan lowered his eyes to the table, intending to lie. "Could've been anyone with blond hair. The face was not really visible." He left out the part about it being covered in blood, the fact the man was impaled and hanging from a hook, and wearing a t-shirt he had seen Clay wear once before, the gray one with white lettering which read Nobody cares. Work harder. He glossed over the details, only saying it was of a man beaten.

"But Frank believed it was Clay?" Her eyes beseeched Morgan, fear for Clay ratcheting up and immobilizing her.

Raising his eyes to meet Stella's, Morgan covered her hands with his. "Frank is an inconsiderate ass who has an inflated sense of his worth and enjoys making inflammatory remarks. I can't truly speak to his motivation, he might be infatuated with you, but I can tell you for sure that ever since Clay risked his life to save us all at the faculty gala, something has been off with Frank. Almost like he possesses the infantile belief Clay did what he did to make us look like cowards and idiots for hiding in the bathroom while he single-handedly defused all those bombs."

"But … that's what Clay does. It is who he is. He runs toward danger when most everyone else runs away. He's a protector … an elite soldier. He only did what he did to help us, not to outshine anyone else." Stella pulled her hands away.

Her words knocked around in her head and mixed with her muddled thoughts. Clay wants to protect everyone, but I fear for his life every time he leaves. He almost died in Mumbai … Adam did. She wished she hadn't ignored all of the times Clay tried to contact her after he got spun up again. Now she had no clue if he was truly the man in the photo Morgan told her about.

"I'm sorry, Stella. I only wanted to give you a heads-up, so Frank didn't blindside you with that damned image." Morgan shuddered as he recalled the photo.

Stella drew in a breath. "Thanks. I appreciate your concern." She pushed back her chair and rose. "I'll see you tomorrow."

Morgan nodded. "Let me know if you hear from Clay."

"He normally doesn't call while on a mission." She deflected because she had not shared with anyone that she broke up with him before he left.

"Didn't he contact you during deployment?" Morgan opened his wallet and put down enough to cover their coffees and a tip too before he stood.

"Yes, but that is different."

"Must be hard never knowing when he is gone and when he will return. If you ever need someone to talk to … give me a ring. My partner says I'm an excellent listener."

Taking the opportunity to move away from thoughts of Clay, Stella inquired, "How is Ian?"

"He's well and enjoying his trip to Indonesia, although several in the tour group have come down with a mild case of influenza. He's hoping it bypasses him."

As they walked out, Stella asked, "Are you two still planning on the trip to Iceland?"

Morgan chuckled. "Not if I can talk Ian out of it. I have no desire to go view icebergs and have icicles hanging off my nose. I would prefer to travel to India, Italy, or perhaps Ireland. A pub tour to all the places Professor Flanagan keeps talking about would interest me more."

Stella smiled despite being ill at ease after their conversation. Flanagan was the first professor not to turn his nose up at Clay, believing him some simple-minded imbecile and ingratiated himself by asking Clay to join him for a beer when they met. Those two enjoyed a long conversation on many topics. Clay's an intelligent man … not a knuckle dragger as many of my colleagues imply.

As she reached her car, she turned to Morgan. "Thanks again." She waited until Morgan left, and then her tears started. Please don't let it be Clay in the photo. Please let him be alright.

---

Stella's Apartment

Unable to get the thought out of her mind all the way home and for the past three hours, Stella paced in her living room, and her gaze kept returning to the laptop. She tried contacting Clay multiple times. He never answered.

Though Morgan sought to insulate her from Frank's ignoble and insincere attempt to dissuade her from caring for Clay, he sparked an insatiable desire to know if the photo was actually the man she loved or some other poor soul.

The itch to sit down and do an internet search intruded upon every single thought to the point she needed to scratch it or go insane. No longer able to ignore it, Stella plopped onto her couch and pulled the laptop to her. Fingers hovered over the keys as she wondered what Frank would've searched on to locate the photo.

She typed Clay's name and hit search. Photos of several Clay Spenser's came up, and one of Ash Spenser, Clay's father, but none of Clay himself. With no clue as to what their mission was or where Stella stared at the screen. Come on, what would the inglorious bastard Frank search for? He hates the military …

Her thoughts were interrupted by the ping indicating a new email. Hoping it was from Clay, she switched to her email program and stopped cold as she read Frank Isaksson's name in her inbox, noting it contained an attachment. With a shaking hand, she opened and read the message.

Dear Stella,

Thought this might interest you. Your warmongering boyfriend isn't right for you. You need someone who his more sophisticated and won't leave you at the drop of a hat … or the ringing of a cell phone — someone who will put you first, instead of traipsing around the world sticking his nose into international affairs where we don't belong and ultimately coming home in a pine box.

Call me when you decide to drop the indoctrinated, immature, illiterate boy and are ready for a real man.

Yours Truly, Frank

Rage burned bright as Stella digested the infuriating words, but she moved the cursor over the attached image … uncertain if she should open it. Once seen, she could never unsee whatever it contained.

Her finger lowered and double clicked at the same time her eyes closed. She took several deep breaths. It's not going to be Clay. He is safe. The men of Bravo take care of him. It won't be him.

Opening her eyes, she instantly focused on the face. The blood covering it would never in a million years hide the fact it was Clay. She knew him intimately … had caressed his cheeks and run her fingers through his curly locks an incalculable number of times. Her gaze shifted down, wondering at the odd angle of his body.

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" ripped from her throat as she spotted the huge hook embedded in Clay's gut. Her face crumbled as she realized he was hanging by that hook. Tears welled, blurring her vision as heart-wrenching sobs wracked her body. Her wails pierced the night air as she folded inward, wrapping her arms around herself.

Hearing banshee-like screeching, Ivy rushed out of her bedroom, unsure what to expect and found Stella curled in a ball on their couch and her laptop on the carpet. "Stella, are you hurt?" She dropped to a knee, searching for something, anything to tell her what happened.

Gutted by what she viewed, her heart shattering into immeasurable pieces, Stella didn't realize she woke her roommate as she continued to sob and crocodile tears streamed down her face. "Clay, Clay, Clay … no, no, no … Clay no," she chanted in indescribable despair.

Insistent, Ivy shook Stella and considered slapping her face. She was aware Stella dumped Clay but still loved the guy. With the repeated calling of his name, Ivy worried Stella had been informed he died … but then she realized someone would've come to the door, not called. Although she wondered if that were really the case because Stella wasn't Clay's next of kin and wouldn't be notified via the normal channel.

"STELLA, WHAT'S WRONG?" Ivy yelled trying to break through the irrational behavior. Her gaze moved to the overturned computer, and she picked it up. Aghast, Ivy's eyes rounded at the image. "Is that Clay?" She assumed so when Stella didn't answer … though, in truth, Ivy couldn't ascertain the identity of the person given the amount of blood on the man's face. Her stomach became queasy with only one glimpse.

She turned her attention back to Stella. Her friend's sobbing showed no signs of stopping as Stella rocked herself in a fetal position. At a loss for what to do, Ivy reached for Stella's discarded phone, but she didn't know who to call. Stella's mother was out for sure. The woman had been a real witch lately, hounding Stella about choosing a man who would provide for her adequately and not leave her alone all the time like Clay. The old biddy didn't understand Stella loved Clay with all her heart.

Ivy scrolled through the contacts and happened upon Naima, a name she recognized as one of the wives of Bravo. She punched call, and after several rings, a groggy voice answered, "Stella?"

"Naima, you don't know me. I'm Stella's friend Ivy. I need help. I have no idea what to do."

Sitting up in bed, rubbing her eyes and checking the clock, noting it was near midnight, and hearing wailing in the background, Naima said, "Tell me what is going on."

"I'm not exactly sure. Stella is inconsolable. I think she saw a picture of Clay someone sent her. It's horrific. If it is him, someone impaled him on a hook and beat the ever-living tar out of him. What do I do?"

Throwing off her covers, Naima rose. "Stay with her. I'm going to make some calls, and I'll get back to you shortly. Someone will be over to help soon too. I'll come as soon as my mother can get here to watch my kids."

"Thanks." Ivy stared at the phone when it disconnected. She didn't understand the military community. It surprised her that Naima would instantly offer to come over at this time of night. And she wondered who else would be showing up.

She turned back to Stella who began to hyperventilate. "Hey, hey, slow it down. Inhale slower." She rubbed Stella's arm feeling completely inadequate to help her friend.

---

Mexican Marine Headquarters – Bravo Hooch

The incessant ringing of Ray's phone pulled him from sleep. He peered at the screen and nearly fell out of his hammock when he registered it was his wife. He put his feet on the floor and stood. "Naima, is everyone alright?"

A sigh of relief escaped from Naima. Though she didn't know the circumstances yet, thoughts of her husband being in harm's way played in her mind. "Ray, baby, I'm glad you answered. The kids and I are fine. I need a straight answer from you. We have an incident, and I must know the truth if I'm going to help."

Ray held still. "What type of incident?" Thoughts of Doza's men going after his family crept in. If they identified Clay and Sonny, chances were the rest of their identities might be compromised too. And he wouldn't put it past Doza to target their families even though they were in the States.

"I don't have the full details. A friend of Stella's just called me, frantic and asking for help. Stella was crying in the background. All I know is someone sent Stella a picture and Ivy believes it might be Clay based on Stella's reaction. She said the man in the photo was impaled on a hook and badly beaten. Please tell me Clay is alright and it isn't him."

Ray's heart dropped at the same time as his worry increased. "Who sent her the photo?"

Naima sucked in a breath and tears prickled her eyes. Ray would've told her it wasn't Clay immediately if it was not him … but he asked who sent the picture. "I don't know." Her voice shook as she asked, "Is Clay dead?"

"No. No. Sorry, should've said that first. He's injured, but alive. Babe, I hate to ask this of you … we need to know who sent it."

"I called Trish, and she is on her way … she knows Stella best with her and Derek living across the hall from Clay's place. I'm going over as soon as Mom arrives. I'll find out for you. Are they shipping Clay home?"

"Not yet."

"When? How bad is he?"

"No idea when, and bad, really bad." Ray contemplated telling Naima about the breakup and Clay's amnesia but decided to hold off for now. "Don't look at the photo, please. We tried to wipe them from the internet, but …"

"Once it is out there, it is perpetual." Naima sunk onto her bed. "Is there anything I can do?"

Ray strode to Jason's area as he said, "Just call me as soon as you find out how Stella received the photo."

"I mean for Clay?" Naima clarified.

"Pray. The kid needs all the prayers he can get."

"Okay. I'll call you soon." Naima hung up and bowed her head sending up a plea to God to watch over the men of Bravo team and to heal Clay.

Moving to Jason's hammock, he shook his friend. "Jace, wake up. We got an issue."

Blinking his heavy lids open, Jason peered up at Ray. "What?"

"Someone sent Stella that damned photo Gonzales took of Clay. Naima is on her way over to Stella's place, and so is Trish." Ray squeezed the back of his neck. "Guess the IT guy didn't wipe out the damned thing."

Wide awake now, Jason sat up. "Do we know who sent it?"

"Not yet. If it is one of Doza's men, our families might be in danger."

"Roust the others. I'll grab Eric and Mandy. I want everyone in the TOC in five minutes." Jason pulled on his pants and shoved his feet into his shoes. He grabbed a shirt and pulled it on as he exited the team's quarters.

---

Mexican Marine Headquarters – Infirmary

Clay woke as he overheard voices, but he struggled to comprehend and to open his eyes. His body was being insubordinate and failed to cooperate with his desires. He shivered as cool liquid ran down his face and a soft cloth followed. So cold, Clay wished for his last deployment with Team Three in the hot, dry Afghanistan desert.

"Why would she care?" Lisa responded when Sonny came to get her. She now held an inverse opinion of Stella. Clay would be well rid of such a feckless woman. He needed someone who would weather the storms with him, and be there to support him through thick and thin.

"You didn't view the photos … having been there and seeing the damned things too … someone would have to be insane not to be affected by them. And, well, he told me she loved him but resented his life. Cut her a little slack." Sonny glanced at Clay. "Not a conversation we should be having right now. Jace wants us in TOC in case this is Doza's doing."

"I'm not about to let her off the hook …" Lisa cringed at her choice of words. "Her timing was inappropriate and insensitive. If she waited, he wouldn't have been intoxicated and inattentive." She waved at the bed. "And he wouldn't be here in this condition."

Sonny grimaced. "My fault not hers."

"I don't agree. Her inconsiderate actions started the ball rolling." Lisa stormed out of the room intent on heeding Jason's directive to assemble at the TOC, and Sonny jogged to catch up with her.

Isabella sighed as the two left. "Well, now you can rest without the loud noises waking you."

With immense effort, Clay lifted his eyelids. It took a moment to focus. His tongue darted out to lick his dry lips … they felt as rough as an iguana.

"Want some ice chips?" Isabella asked.

Clay nodded and was rewarded with a couple of pieces. He let them melt, quenching the fire still raging in his throat and opened for more.

"Only a little … you are not ready for more just yet." Isabella gave Clay two more chips.

After he swallowed, Clay managed to croak out, "What … hap … pened … to me?"

Isabella turned to put the cup on the table. "You were injured. I don't have the details. The doctor can explain when he comes in." She pivoted back, ready to give him a smile and kind word, but noted her patient slipped unconscious again. She noted the brief moment of consciousness on the chart. Due to the raging fever, he never stayed awake more than a few moments, and this was the first time he spoke on her shift.

---

Mexican Marine Headquarters – TOC

Jason paced as he ran his fingers through his hair. So much for sleeping tonight. As the team, Mandy, Eric, and Lisa congregated an internal debate roared in his head. Irate the photo made it to someone one of the team cared about, the kid still loved Stella even though she ripped his heart out, and worried they had been compromised, Jason waffled between wanting to fly home this instant to protect his children and staying here to rip apart the country until they located and killed Doza.

Eyes bloodshot from lack of sleep and hair sticking up at odd angles, not taking time to do more than pull on clothes haphazardly, Eric assumed command. "Ray, explain what is going on."

Ray related Naima's call to the those gathered and finished, "I'm waiting for her to call back."

Blackburn nodded. "Your identities may have been burned. Jason, what do you want to do?"

Halting, Jason drew in a breath. "I don't want to instill fear in our families unless it is warranted. Reacting impulsively might cause more harm than good."

"So, you want us to sit idle indefinitely?" Sonny responded, feeling impotent and wanting to blow away all of Doza's suspected hiding places. Inaction didn't sit well with him. No one messed with Bravo team's families and went unscathed.

"Not indefinitely, only until we receive actionable intel," Jason stated. He turned to Mandy. "Get your IT guys up and get them in here. Impress on them the need to do more than a half-assed job."

Incensed by Jason continually impugning of her work and that of her colleagues, she bit back. "I'm not the one who told Sonny to take Clay outside the wire and get him drunk. You are not infallible, Hayes. We are not incompetent. We're doing the best we can—"

Playing peacemaker, an aspect of his job that was used quite often ever since he took over commanding Hayes, Eric interrupted Ellis, "No one is questioning your integrity. Infiltrating the drug cartel and locating a man who has operated with impunity for over a decade is no easy task. Otherwise, the Mexican authorities wouldn't have sought out the best-damned team to assist them."

Setting both hands on the table, Eric leaned forward, his expression stern. "This infighting and insulting one another stops now. We can't continue this way, or someone else is gonna end up injured or possibly dead. And I can say without a doubt, none of you want that to occur."

Eric's deep inhalation was heard as the room went silent. "We ALL are invested in taking down Doza. This is no longer only about a DEA agent. The bastard went after one of our own, and we WILL get payback."

He waited until he received a nod from each one. "Mandy, we do need the IT guy in here now to scrub the internet again. We must proactively ensure the team's identities and their families are secure while we wait for Ray's wife to call back. Meanwhile, the rest of you … grab some coffee. It's gonna be a long night."

---

Stella's Apartment

After knocking, Naima took in the scene when Trish opened the door to Stella's place. A distraught Stella sat tucked into the corner of her sofa, legs pulled close to her chest, eyes red-rimmed, and a tissue gripped in a white-knuckled fist. "Thanks for coming so fast, Trish. I would've been here sooner, but didn't want to drag the kids out in the middle of the night."

"No worries. She is torn apart by the picture she insists is Clay. I didn't look at it … her friend Ivy said it is disturbing." Trish shut the door, and they both moved toward Stella. "Hey, Stella, Naima is here."

Ivy rose from her place next to Stella. "Hi, I'm Ivy. Would you like a cup of tea? I've got the pot on to make some Camille for Stella."

"Please." Naima took a seat beside Stella and placed a hand on her shoulder. "I called Ray."

Stella's bloodshot, watery eyes moved from staring at the closed laptop to Naima. She waited to hear Clay was dead and a hiccuping sob escaped along with a tear.

"Oh, honey. He's not dead. He's injured but being taken care of right now."

Stella's body shook as she started crying again. Naima pulled her close and patted her back. After several minutes Stella pulled back. "Are you sure?"

"Yes. Ray wouldn't lie." Naima handed Stella another tissue.

"How bad? When will he be coming home?" Stella realized Trish and Naima must not know she ended things with Clay since they were treating her so kindly, and she chose not to inform them because she needed to know how Clay fared.

"Ray didn't share the details, so I'm unsure. However, the team needs to know who sent you the photo. Can you tell me?"

Inhaling shakily, Stella nodded. "From someone who I thought was a friend. Frank Isaksson works in the political science department at the university, and I met him about eighteen months ago. He is a bit idiosyncratic, anti-military, and never made it a secret he didn't like Clay, but I never thought Frank would be so incredibly cruel."

Wiping her eyes again, rage ignited in the pit of her stomach. "In Frank's email, he had the nerve to call Clay an immature boy and say when I wanted a real man to call him. The idiot doesn't have any concept of what a real man is."

Naima grinned. "Insensitive boars come in all shapes and sizes. Excuse me a moment while I go call Ray." She rose and stepped down the hall for a little privacy.

Ivy returned with the teacups on a tray and set it on the table. "I can't believe Frank did this." She handed a cup to Stella.

"Morgan gave me a heads up. I shouldn't have opened the image." Stella took a sip.

Trish seethed quietly. She would be telling Derek the name of the inconsiderate idiot and Alpha team would likely be paying this Isaksson a little visit. No one messes with our extended SEAL family without repercussions.

Feeling a little more in control, Stella peered at Trish. "Thank you for coming over. I'm fine now … I don't want to keep you from your home."

Taking a seat, Trish dropped a sugar cube into her tea and stirred. "Not going anywhere. Family sticks together. This is what we do. We support one another when things go sideways."

"But Clay and I aren't even married … how am I, family?" Stella gaped at Trish.

"Doesn't matter. You are important to Clay. He loves you. I can see it in his lovesick, puppy eyes every time he gazes at you. He's over the moon for you, and that is what makes you family."

Stella felt like an impostor … an interloper … she didn't deserve their kindness after how she left things with Clay. If Trish and Naima found out, they would surely hate her and become indignant she failed to tell them she broke Clay's heart.

Conflicting emotions swirled as an internal war raged. I can't live with Clay always being in danger … but I don't want to live without him either.

---

Mexican Marine Headquarters – TOC

Ray hung up and turned to the others who peered at him with a mix of anticipation and barely veiled anger … he just didn't know if it was directed at Doza or Stella since they all were pissed off at Stella's timing for dumping the kid. "One of the professors at the university sent it to her. Frank Isaksson."

Jason's brows knitted together. "Isn't that one of the guys who cowered in the bathroom at the Farris Gallery?"

Sonny smirked. "Yeah, he's the asshole who wouldn't give Clay his tie to gag the criminal. Clay said Frank about pissed himself when the kid demanded the tie."

"Why in the hell did he send that to her?" Brock plopped into a chair and scratched Cerberus' ears.

"I'm more interested in where he found the damned thing." Trent pushed off the wall and began pacing as he shifted his gaze to the IT guy.

"What are we gonna do about this? He can't get away with doing something so crappy," Lisa said even though she was still angry with Stella.

"Um … excuse me …" Lester dared to interrupt the team. Their heated glares unnerved him.

Everyone turned to the information tech and Jason said, "What?"

"I found the site where the photo is posted. It's on a darknet site. They must've gotten the image from another source and then uploaded after I scrubbed it from all the other sites."

Mandy moved to the computer. "Show me which site."

Lester tapped several keys and loaded the page.

Her face became impassive as the implications ran in her head. "I need to make a call. People don't just happen onto this site. The IIB uses it for recruiting westerners who have been vetted by one of their members."

"How do you know? And what is IIB?" Jason inquired.

"The International Islamic Brotherhood. They are a newer group who follow most the tenants of ISIS, but they are more covert and seek to infiltrate western countries and destroy them from within by gaining political power rather blowing up buildings. It is much more insidious and less visible. Changes are made slower … countries will be like frogs who jump into cold water and as the temperature rises don't realize they are boiling to death until it is too late.

"A colleague was working on a target package and needed my help with a few things. She was looking into recruiters who are using universities around the country as a prime hunting ground for impressionable youth who can be indoctrinated."

Mandy pulled out her phone and dialed, knowing she would be waking Izza Alvi, but at this point, she didn't care. When Izza answered she briefly laid out the situation, asked a few questions, but mostly listened. Her face morphed into disbelief as Izza continued to speak.

Hanging up, she faced the guys. "As incredible as this sounds … Professor Isaksson is on Izza's list of possible recruiters. A low man in the organization but is suspected to be responsible for enlisting over a dozen people who have already been brought in for interrogation."

"Will she be rounding him up? If so … I'm certain Alpha Team would be willing to help," Eric said.

"Izza is going to call me back in a few hours after she checks on a few items. I'll make the suggestion."

Ray listened and then said, "So this isn't related to Doza … our identities have not been compromised, and our families are safe?"

"Appears that way," Mandy replied.

Jason exhaled heavily as his worry for his children lessened slightly. Though, until they took down Doza for good, he wouldn't rest easy.

"Alright. Well, I believe everyone can go back to bed. We'll reconvene tomorrow and refocus on Doza," Eric suggested.

Nodding Jason agreed. It wouldn't do for his men to be overtired … as it was, they were stressed by Clay's condition and the kid would need them refreshed tomorrow when he started asking questions.

The group broke up, most seeking their beds, but Jason stopped Lisa as she turned to head to the area set up as the infirmary. "I'll stay the rest of the night with Spenser."

Understanding arguing with Hayes would be fruitless, Lisa gave him a nod and changed direction.

Ray halted. "You need sleep too, J."

"The recliner will do for me tonight." Jason leaned his back on the wall. "Did you tell Naima they broke up or that Clay doesn't remember the past year or so?"

"No. From Naima's description Stella is in terrible shape, so she and Trish are going to stay the night with her. We don't know if Clay will wake tomorrow and recall everything, so I didn't believe it would benefit anyone by relaying that information."

"Agreed." Yawning, Jason pushed off the wall. "If Isaksson isn't part of IIB, we're gonna pay him a visit when we get home. What he did is indefensible and immoral on so many levels."

Ray grinned. "I hear ya, brother and concur. A bit of unit justice is in order." He stood in place and watched as Jason headed for the kid's room, noting the weight of the world on his friend's shoulders.

---

Mexican Marine Headquarters – Infirmary

Sunlight streamed in the east window, shifting as the sun rose higher in the sky, illuminating Clay's face causing him to stir. He no longer felt cold, but his entire body ached, especially his arm and abdomen. After inhaling deeply, wincing as his chest resisted, he blinked open his eyes, squinted, and turned his head in the opposite direction to avoid the brightness.

His gaze landed on the figure in the recliner. Why is the illustrious Master Chief Hayes sleeping in my room? Glancing down, he noted his left arm in a cast and racked his brain as to how it happened, but came up empty. He shifted, needing to relieve the pressure on his back and moaned as his right hand moved to his gut.

Pushing down the light blanket and pulling up the hospital gown, his eyes rounded in surprise to find he was nude except for the gown, catheterized, and there was a long incision held together with a long row of black, precisely-tied knots just below his ribcage. When his door opened, Clay yanked the covers up, the move causing pain, but avoiding embarrassment when a vaguely familiar woman entered.

Lisa grinned as she averted her eyes while he tugged up the sheet, happy to discover Clay awake and to find out from his nurse that his fever broke in the wee hours of the morning. "Good morning, Clay." The confusion in his blue eyes reminded her that Clay didn't remember the past year and the friendship they developed, which dimmed her smile.

Perplexed, Clay's eyes moved between Hayes and Davis. His mouth cottony, he attempted to speak, his words came out raspy and haltingly through his irritated throat. "Why … are … you … here?"

Rousing when Lisa greeted Clay, Jason moved the lever to lower the leg rest of the recliner and sat up. He spoke when Lisa turned her eyes to him, communicating she was unsure what to say. "Are you in Virginia?"

Focusing on Hayes, Clay nodded. "Why … keep … asking?"

Lisa moved to the bedside table and picked up the cup. "I'll go grab some ice chips … will help your throat." She hurried out of the room, intent on giving Jason time alone with Clay now that he seemed more coherent.

Jason remained silent for some time as he weighed his words, also uncertain how to proceed. He raked a hand through his hair and was saved from saying anything more when Shelia entered carrying a styrofoam cup and went directly to Clay's bed.

"Well, lookie who is awake and not feverish. Ice will soothe your throat. I'm Shelia, your day nurse." She spooned in a small amount, and as it melted, she turned to Jason. "If you would step out for a moment, I need to examine his wound."

"I'll wait outside. Holler if you need me to come in." Jason pulled out his phone as he exited, intending to call Ray. He wanted to let the others know Clay woke again and the fever broke, happy to impart positive news for once, but he found he didn't need to as he spotted Sonny leading the others down the hall. He grinned … reinforcements … together they would tackle telling Clay about the gap in his memory.

Inside the room, Clay asked, "Can … you … remove … catheter?"

After gloving up, Shelia moved the thin blanket down, maintaining his dignity as she noted the hiked-up gown. Shelia inspected his wound for any infectious seepage and inflammation, smiling when she found none. She lowered the fabric, covering his abdomen. "One of the reasons I asked your buddy to leave the room. You can begin using the urinal until you have the strength to make it to the restroom."

Clay clenched his jaw when the nurse deftly removed the tubing from his sensitive body part. The stinging lasted only a couple of moments, and by the time he recovered his breath, Shelia had covered him up again and strode towards the adjoining toilet room to dump the contents and discard the bag and tubing.

Exiting the bathroom, Shelia called out, "You can come back in."

Clay's mouth gaped as the door opened and not only Hayes but the four remaining members of Bravo team entered his room. Why are they here? What is going on? Where is Brian? Hayes cut off his thoughts.

Jason stepped to the bed. "You have questions. We have answers."

Clay nodded, since speaking still hurt, but so did his entire body.

Placing a pillow across Clay's midsection, Shelia said, "I'm going to elevate the head of your bed. Hold this close and tell me if you hurt too much."

As the angle in which his body folded increased, so did his pain level, and Clay attempted to hold in his groan.

"Stop. He's in pain. The kid is hiding it again. He needs more painkillers before you move him any further," Trent said as he stepped forward.

Shelia released the button, immobilizing the bed and stared at Trent. "Are you certain?"

Trent snorted. "Yes. I know how to read his signs."

Slack-mouthed, Clay stared at Trent. How did he know? What signs?

"What is your pain level?" Shelia asked.

"Don't lie to her, Kid." Trent crossed his arms and cocked an eye at Spenser.

"Five," Clay downplayed.

"Spenser?" Trent challenged.

"That there is a tall tale, Goldilocks. Betcha it is more like seven," Sonny drawled.

"Eight is more likely," Jason added.

"Could be as high as nine," Brock ventured.

"I'm with Jace on this one. Eight sounds about right," Ray chimed in.

"Agreed. Shelia, dose him for eight. No sense the kid should be in agony," Trent directed.

Clay's eyes darted to each man as they spoke. How the hell do they know it is eight. And why are they talking like they know me? What's up with them calling me Kid and Goldilocks?

Shelia nodded and left the room to obtain the medication. She had learned from Dr. Irving to listen to Trent. The team medic was held in high esteem by the doctor, and Irving often consulted Trent regarding Clay's reactions. She also discovered him to be a staunch advocate for the young man, and while Spenser had been hallucinating with fever, a gentle man who tenderly cared for his teammate.

As Clay opened his mouth to comment, Jason shook his head and declared, "We'll wait until your meds are on board."

"Won't he be too muddled?" Sonny queried.

"No." Trent pulled a chair around and took a seat.

"You sure? He doesn't do too well on pain meds." Sonny shifted to the sink in search of the emesis basin just in case the kid reacted. They never knew if he would puke, become confused, hallucinate, or sleep when taking medication.

"Doc and I adjusted the dosage over the past few days. Believe we have it worked out now. He should be fine … at least for a half hour or so." Trent eyed the monitors getting a baseline. He promised Jason to keep close watch of the vital signs so they could stop if their explanation increased the stress on Clay's weakened body.

Clay narrowed his eyes to a slit as they continued to talk as if he were not right in front of them and as if they knew him well … which they couldn't. He only rolled with Bravo for one op and believed Hayes would beat the crap out of him after he schwacked Samir. An insidious thought entered his head as his focus shifted to his stomach and then to his busted arm. Perhaps they did beat the shit out of me … some sort of delayed retribution.

Now leery, Clay glanced around the room and noted it didn't appear to be a regular hospital room … like it was cobbled together in a hurry. It had no earmarks of being a base hospital. At least not on any base he had ever visited. They keep asking if I'm in Virginia. Why? Maybe I'm not. If not, where the hell am I? I wish Brian were here … wherever here is.

Shelia returned and administered the medication. "This will take the edge off. Let's keep you at this angle for a bit, and a little later we will try sitting up fully. If you tolerate that, we'll see about trying standing for a few moments."

Clay focused on the nurse as she spoke. "Where … am … I?"

Smiling at Clay, Shelia responded, "I'll be back to check on you in a while." Her gaze flicked to Hayes. Dr. Irving said to allow this team to answer all of her patient's questions.

Catching the direction of her eyes, Clay turned to Hayes, becoming a bit irritated no one answered his questions. "Where?"

As the nurse slipped out, Jason said, "You're in Mexico City."

Clay's eyes widened. "Why?"

Running a hand along his jaw to the back of his neck, Jason decided to bite the bullet and tell Spenser. As team leader the duty fell to him. "This will be hard for you to comprehend, but I'm gonna tell you outright what is going on. Listen without interrupting, and after I'm done, you can ask anything you want, and we'll do our best to answer you."

The men of Bravo all encircled the bed, this would be incredibly difficult for Clay, and they all wanted to be close to show their brotherly support for their youngest team member.

"First off, you are a member of Bravo." Jason expected the puzzlement expressed in Clay's features and forged ahead. "You have been for a little over a year now. You were injured, quite severely, I'll let Trent give you the lowdown in a bit, but suffice for now, you fell two stories and struck your head.

"It appears you have lost memories of the last year. The doc is unable to determine if your amnesia is temporary or permanent, but I want you to understand without a doubt we are your brothers whether you remember us or not. We will be here for you as you recover. You are family … and we take care of our own."

Jason paused to allow Clay to digest the information.

Clay's head shook back and forth as he rejected what Hayes said. This is implausible. I'm not on Bravo team and I didn't lose a year. Clay glanced at his arm, then to the pillow covering his belly before returning to Hayes. "This … is a … hoax or … part … of … my … SERE … evolution."

"Not part of your training evolution. You graduated in a three-way tie for first place. Bravo had first pick, and we chose you." Jason held Spenser's direct gaze.

His throat screaming with every word spoken, Clay only said, "Brian?" The fleeting inscrutable emotion crossing Hayes' face caused Clay's gut to roll as he forced out, "Where … is … Brian?"

Ray laid a hand on Clay's shoulder, taking over for Jason. "He's gone."

Not understanding, Clay swallowed trying to wet his fiery throat as his blue eyes shifted to Senior Chief Perry. "Where?"

Deciding a simple, direct statement would be best, Ray said, "I'm sorry to tell you this, brother, but Brian died in a training accident about a month after you rolled with us while you were in Green Team. His chute didn't open."

Slammed hard by the intel, Clay's heart rate increased as he inhaled sharply and too deeply. Pain seared his chest, and he couldn't discern if it was physical or emotional pain … likely both. The agony caused him to pant too fast.

Ray squeezed lightly. "Slow it down … sniper breathing." Ray demonstrated, inhaling, holding, and exhaling to help Spenser calm his rapid breaths and speeding pulse rate.

Clay's eyes shut as he accepted the truth of what Hayes and Perry imparted. No one would be cruel enough to invent something like this, and my wounds are real … not something which would be allowed to happen during an instruction cycle.

Venturing to reopen his eyes, Clay scanned the men around him, noting apprehension in their expressions. He began to wonder what type of relationship he developed with each of them in the past year. Insecurity grew, and he felt at a disadvantage. They know me, seemingly well enough to realize when I attempted to hide my pain, but I don't know them. They are strangers to me.

"Ice?" Wanting to ask a long question, Clay needed to quench the flames in his throat before endeavoring to communicate.

Trent nodded to Brock who stood closest to the cup. "Only one spoonful for now."

Brock complied, offering his brother a small relief from what must be a painful effort each time he spoke. His eyes landed on the still raw spots where the hemp noose abraded Clay's skin. "Better?"

Clay's head swam with an influx of inquiries as the icy liquid doused the fire, at least long enough for him to say, "Yeah, … why am I … in Mexico … and … what … happened?"

Jason gave Clay a straightforward explanation of why Bravo came to Mexico. After witnessing the lowering of Clay's eyelids, Jason planned to stop with the pertinent details, what they had done thus far in their ineffectual attempt to capture Doza to shut down his illegal activities, including how things went sideways in Hércules and how Clay saved their asses with his imaginative solution, but Sonny interrupted.

"Your injuries are my fault," Sonny blurted out, anxiety and guilt weighing heavily on his soul.

The impact of the impassioned exclamation caused Clay's brows to rise as he zeroed in on the implacable pipehitter.

"Sonny—" Jason began, but Sonny cut him off.

"Okay, our fault." Sonny peered at Clay, wanting to get this out in the open. "I failed you. I should've used my head … didn't … and you nearly died. I took you to a local bar, let you become too intoxicated, and didn't stop Doza's men from abducting us, beating the shit out of you, or prevent the sick bastard Gonzales from impaling you with the fucking hook and putting a noose around your neck. Ray saved your life … shot the rope, splitting it in two before it snapped your neck, but you fell two stories and suffered a head injury in addition to the other injuries."

Clay's face scrunched up as he listened and his right hand went to his stomach. Drunk? Taken? Impaled? His hand moved to his burning throat. Almost hung? The scenario sounded inconceivable … top tier operators didn't get abducted or shitfaced during a mission. He checked the veracity of Sonny's words by studying the other guys. He stopped on Hayes. "True?"

"Not entirely. The blame ultimately lies with me. Sonny only took you outside the wire based on my instructions. Alana's and Adam's deaths affected my judgment on this op."

Though the imperturbable and infallible Jason Hayes just admitted to making an error, as inconceivable as that seemed to Clay, his mind fixated on the mention of two more deaths. He didn't know who Alana was, but he knew one Adam … Master Chief Seaver. "Alana? Adam?" Clay croaked out.

A flash of pain surged through Jason at Alana's name … her loss still so raw. He also worried he might spark renewed guilt and grief in Clay when he explained Adam's death. He decided to gloss over the details and only give an abbreviated version. "My wife, Alana, died in a car accident. During her funeral, we were spun up for a rescue op in Mumbai. I stood down, and Adam stepped in for me. He didn't make it home … made the ultimate sacrifice to save the team from an s-vest."

Jason halted as Clay's breath hitched, he paled, and his pulse jumped up which impelled Ray to guide the kid through breathing once again. Damn, I hate hurting the kid. How is the news about Stella going to impact him?

Trent caught Jason's gaze and his tone impressed on everyone that Clay had reached his physical limit for today. "That's enough for now. The rest can wait."

The cause indeterminate, a deep-seated sense of guilt bloomed and squeezed Clay's chest making breathing an imposing task. Zapped of the little energy he possessed, his eyes flickered closed several times. As Clay internalized that he lost not only his best friend, but also his mentor, a year of his life, and he might be permanently incapacitated, many questions rolled around in his head. The last one before a drug-induced sleep claimed him was … why would Hayes and Quinn allow me to be inebriated to the point of being incapacitated on such an important mission?

Noting the change in respiration and lax body as Clay's head lolled to the side and hand slipped to the mattress, Trent lowered the bed to make the kid more comfortable while sleeping. Amazed Clay remained awake for as long as he did, Trent stated the obvious. "He's out."

"The kid seemed to take it all in." Ray removed his hand from Clay's shoulder.

"We skirted the Stella issue," Brock interjected, wondering if he should've brought Cerberus with him this morning. His dog established an indelible connection with Clay after the two bonded over bullets.

"He had enough shocks for now. Brian's and Adam's deaths both hit him hard." Jason blew out a breath as he recalled how Clay had pushed them all away and internalized his grief after Mumbai.

They all nodded as Trent said, "The kid is gonna sleep for a few hours at least. Time for everyone to grab breakfast."

Sonny moved to the chair. "No. I'm staying here."

"You need to eat," Jason stated.

"Then bring me something back, because I'm NOT leaving Boy Wonder. If he wakes, he needs a friendly face." Sonny sat, and his expression implied they would have a fight on their hands if anyone tried to make him leave.

To lighten the moment, because inappropriate humor and laughter, especially during the worst times, was an effective weapon to shield themselves from the crippling anxiety that came with combat, deployments, and intense situations such as this, Ray joked, "Your ugly mug isn't what I'd call friendly."

The guys chuckled as Sonny scowled and retorted, "I'll have you know … this face," he waved his hand around his face, "is idolized and coveted by many women."

Brock smirked. "So long as you are shoving bills in their G-strings."

The guys devolved into an irreverent razzing session until Shelia returned to do vitals check on Clay and everyone except Sonny headed out to the cantina to eat.

---

Two Days Later
Mexican Marine Headquarters – Infirmary

Clay leaned heavily on Sonny, allowing the man to take most of his weight, unsure if he could make it back to bed. The ten steps to the bathroom already exhausted him, and if he could, he would lie down right here on the floor to sleep. But he couldn't so he took another laborious step forward as he pressed the pillow to his belly with his non-casted arm since the broken wing was in a sling and useless.

"You got this. Only three more to go," Sonny encouraged. The kid was a trooper, never complaining about the breathing or leg exercises the nurses incessantly harped on him doing. Blowing the little metal ball up in the spirometer, doing the inhalation and exhalation exercises caused the kid pain but was necessary to improve his lung function. Likewise, the short walks and the leg flexes were important to prevent blood clots and reduce inflammation in his lower extremities.

Clay grimaced, coming to a halt as his abdomen spasmed causing him to bend over. He would've face planted without Quinn's strong grip on his elbow and Trent holding him up from behind with a special gait belt positioned low on his hips to prevent putting stress on his incision.

"Inhale. Hold, one, two, three. Exhale," Ray chanted to Clay from across the room … something he had done a lot of in the past forty-eight hours.

On empty, unable to go further, his knees buckling, Clay moaned, but he never hit the ground as Jason appeared in front of him and slid his hands around him, essentially hugging him and keeping him upright. "Got you, Kid. Not gonna let you fall."

Cerberus whined, but stayed put … he didn't want to be a trip hazard, though he wanted to be close to his boy. The last two nights he got to sleep at the foot of Clay's bed, preferring it to his pad in their hooch.

Brock patted Cerb. "Good boy. Clay will be back in bed soon, and you can join him again."

Cerb wagged his tail and laid down to wait … impatiently.

With the assistance of Jason, Trent, and Sonny, Clay attained his bed, rested his head on a pillow, moaned as he shifted his butt to the middle of the mattress, and allowed Ray to toss the covers over his bare legs. At least now he wore a loose pair of lightweight shorts under his indigo blue hospital gown.

Clay closed his eyes and sighed, irritated at his inability to move on his own and wishing for independence, but that day was still somewhere in the future. He listened as the idle chatter around him touched on a myriad of topics. He appreciated their help, but also the way they treated him … not like an invalid.

He thought about the last two days. He had been in and out a lot, sleeping for a few hours then waking for a short interval. Every time he woke, at least one if not two or three of the team were in his room. When he was conscious, they answered all inquiries he put to them … well, almost all.

One question which no one would answer is why he was allowed to get drunk in the first place. Each time he brought it up, the subject changed, or someone recalled an errand to be run, or pretended they received a text or call and stepped from the room. It was becoming increasingly frustrating not to know why.

The closest he got to an answer was from Jason when he said, 'Not the best way to handle things, but I wanted Sonny to loosen your tongue so you would tell him what was bugging you since we arrived in Mexico.' Hayes didn't elaborate, and Sonny only shook his head when he asked if he told him that night.

Not knowing intrigued him … he wondered what could've been in his mind to make his team leader suggest to another teammate to ply him with alcohol to get him intoxicated so he would open up. As far as he could recall, he had never been distracted on an operation before … so this would be a first. Clay wished he could remember what was so important he created an issue for the entire team. And he felt the weight on his shoulders. Whatever it was, that one night of imbibing excessive spirits impacted his whole team.

Being a member of Bravo still left him in awe. They invested in him, and apparently from all the stories they shared with him, he fit in and bonded with them. He had a family … something he found reduced his insecurity in the dark of night.

The bright voice of his nurse, a five-foot-four, brown-haired, brown-eyed, ivory-skinned beauty intruded on his ruminations as she greeted everyone in his room. Grinning as he opened his eyes, speaking no longer causing him pain, Clay said, "Morning, Stella."

Shelia blanched. She caught the whispers from the guys in the hallway and understood who Stella was … an ignorant woman who dumped this impressive man. Recovering, she said, "Name's Shelia, but I forgive you for forgetting." She moved her hand from behind her back. "Even brought you a little treat. Doc says you can start on clear liquids today." She placed the half cup of clarified chicken broth on the table within Clay's reach.

Clay stared at her. I know her name is Shelia … why did I call her Stella? He squeezed his eyes shut as a wave of nausea overtook him. He gagged, and although he didn't see them, at least three sets of hands moved to assist him. Shelia likely held the emesis basin, Trent helped hold his pillow across his abdomen to keep him from pulling his sutures out, and either Sonny or Jason braced his shoulders … a process repeated several times in the past days.

His head pounded as he dry-heaved, only a little bile coming up since he only consumed ice chips. Once he finished, a cool rag wiped his face and neck … he never opened his lids to determine which one of the guys did that, but suspected the hands either belonged to Jason or Trent.

Flashes of a woman's face came to him. She possessed brown hair and eyes but didn't appear similar to Shelia. She smiled and laughed in one moment, and the next her eyes filled with tears, and she sobbed. Slowly opening his eyes, finding Trent with the cloth, Clay exhaled heavily, reaching for any memory from his past year. "Do I know someone named Stella? There is … I can't describe … an image … a gut feeling … like she might be important to me."

Sonny dropped his eyes to the floor.

Brock shifted his gaze to the window.

Ray peered up at the dingy ceiling tiles.

Trent's hand stilled as he wrung out the washrag.

Cerberus hopped up on the foot of the bed … sensing his boy would need him, and laid his head on Clay's right thigh.

Jason sighed and met Clay's inquisitive gaze. No longer able to put off the inevitable, their idyllic Indian Summer just ended, and the icy chill of winter descended in the room. Damn, I wish the kid was stronger before he asked. I don't want to rip out his heart. The period we insulated him is over, and I hope this doesn't break him.

.

To be continued in AI-J ...

---

AN: Hope you enjoyed this incredibly long story. My goal was to write short chapter stories to give my muse a break from time to time from my novels, but I'm learning I just can't seem to write short/simple stories. I also usually don't break with canon, but my version of events in Mexico makes this more AU since with Clay's injuries I'm elongating their timeline in Mexico and Clay can't participate in the show's version as I move this forward in AI-J. Please forgive typos ... tried to catch them all but they are sneaky little things and still hide from me after the fifth or sixth round of editing.

Drop me a review and let me know what you thought ... I appreciate and love hearing from my readers.

Inputs welcome for J and K. Contributions for I include:

- Ice from Guest127, IndyElora, Liz, Lunary, NYPDathenareagan, Princess Of The Kingdom, Victoria-Annxx
- Iceberg from Lunary
- Iceland from Guest127, Liz, Victoria-Annxx
- Icicle/icicles from Liz, Victoria-Annxx
- ICU from HoneyPear
- Icy from Victoria-Annxx
- Idea from HoneyPear, Victoria-Annxx
- Identity/identities from Jessiness5134
- Idiosyncratic from Jessiness5134
- Idiot from Liz
- Idle from Victoria-Annxx
- Idolize/idol from Jessiness5134, Victoria-Annxx
- Igloo from Crazykids121, Liz, NYPDathenareagan
- Ignorant from Crazykids121
- Ignore from HoneyPear
- Iguana from Victoria-Annxx
- Ill/illness from Crazykids121, IndyElora, Juniper, Princess Of The Kingdom, Victoria-Annxx
- Illegal from Crazykids121, Jessiness5134, Liz
- Illiterate from Crazykids121
- Imagination from Ildeira
- Imagine from Princess Of The Kingdom
- Immature/immaturity from Crazykids121, Jessiness5134, Victoria-Annxx
- Immobile/immobilized/immobilization from IndyElora, Jessiness5134, Juniper
- Immoral from Jessiness5134, Victoria-Annxx
- Immune from Jessiness5134, Juniper, Victoria-Annxx
- Impact from Deanaholic1, IndyElora, Juniper
- Impaled from Chgrgal
- Impatient from Princess Of The Kingdom
- Impenetrable from Elise Deschat
- Imply/implication from Lunary
- Impose from Lunary
- Impossible from Ildeira
- Impotent from Crazykids121
- Impress/impressed/impression from Victoria-Annxx, Lunary
- Impulse/impulsive/impulsively from Jessiness5134, Princess Of The Kingdom
- Inappropriate from Crazykids121
- Incident from Princess Of The Kingdom
- Incision from floopdeedoopdee
- Incompetent/incompetence from Jessiness5134
- Increase from Princess Of The Kingdom
- Indefensible from Jessiness5134
- Indefinite/indefinitely from Jessiness5134
- Independence from Jessiness5134
- India from Lunary, Victoria-Annxx
- Indian Summer from Lunary
- Indigo from Victoria-Annxx
- Indonesia from Victoria-Annxx
- Infected/infection from Guest127, Ildeira, IndyElora, Jessiness5134, Juniper, Lunary, Victoria-Annxx
- Infiltration/infiltrating from Ildeira
- Inflammation from Juniper, Lunary
- Inflammatory from Crazykids121
- Influenza from Chgrgal, IndyElora
- Information from Princess Of The Kingdom
- Inhale/inhalation from IndyElora, Juniper
- Inject/injected/injection from AeroWright, Jessiness5134, Liz, Victoria-Annxx
- Injury/injuries/injured from Chgrgal, Jessiness5134, Liz
- Inquiry from Jessiness5134
- Insane from Crazykids121, Lunary
- Insects from Guest127, Victoria-Annxx
- Insecure/insecurity from Crazykids121, Liz, Lunary
- Insensibility from Elise Deschat
- Insensitive from Crazykids121
- Inside from Princess Of The Kingdom
- Insight from Lunary
- Insomnia from HoneyPear, Juniper, Lunary, Victoria-Annxx
- Instance from Lunary
- Instill from Victoria-Annxx
- Instinct from Lunary, Princess Of The Kingdom
- Insubordination/insubordinate from Liz, Lunary
- Insufferable from Crazykids121
- Insufficient from Crazykids121
- Insulation/insulate from Liz
- Insulting from Crazykids121
- Insurmountable from Lunary
- Intel from HoneyPear
- Intense from Jessiness5134
- Intensive care from Juniper
- Intentional/intentionally from floopdeedoopdee
- Interact from Princess Of The Kingdom
- Internal from Deanaholic1, floopdeedoopdee, IndyElora, Jessiness5134, Princess Of The Kingdom, Victoria-Annxx
- International from Princess Of The Kingdom
- Intestines from floopdeedoopdee, Jessiness5134, Victoria-Annxx
- Intubation/Intubated from Ally, IndyElora, Juniper, Solstice321
- Invasive from floopdeedoopdee
- Invested from Lunary
- Iris from Victoria-Annxx
- Irrational from Jessiness5134
- Irresponsible from IndyElora
- Irritate/irritating/irritable/irratation from Ildeira, IndyElora, Jessiness5134, Victoria-Annxx
- Islam from Victoria-Annxx
- Isolated/isolation from Liz, Lunary
- Issue/issues from Victoria-Annxx
- IT from Ildeira
- Itch/itchy from Crazykids121, Perenne Allegro, Victoria-Annxx
- IV from Guest127, HoneyPear, IndyElora, Juniper
- Ivory from Ildeira, IndyElora, NetMyne01, Shellymae88
- Ivy from Guest127, Victoria-Annxx