Where did the month of November go? How is it December 12th already?
AACCKK!

Trent was hungry and exhausted. After landing from a 15-hour flight home on a cargo plane, Brock had picked him up and they'd left for West Virginia where he'd had his only meal of cookies and lemonade before breaking all speed limits ever set in a Dodge SUV, to return to base within 90 minutes to catch another flight back to Afghanistan.

At least on this flight, he had his hammock, was surrounded by people he knew and trusted and had a good fourteen hours or so to talk himself out of wringing Clay's neck when he laid eyes on the kid. If the kid had listened and not gone until after talking to Blackburn, he'd be home with his wife instead of trying to avoid his boss by pretending he was asleep.

But not Mr-dive-in-headfirst-and-hope-I-don't-break-my-neck, Clay Spenser.

Davis had called Janine who he was able to see briefly at the base before they had to leave. She was upset – no, pissed. And he didn't blame her. He'd delayed leaving Afghanistan when he could have returned with the team and when he'd finally landed on U.S. soil, hadn't even gone home before flying back out. She didn't know the specifics, would never know, but that wouldn't stop her from serving him salami and pimento loaf on dry, stale bread for the foreseeable future while the kids got pasta and chicken parmesan.

Eh, maybe he could pacify her by bringing Clay home with him for a few days. All the little shit had to do was pull a pout with blue eyes that went all emotional on command and his swollen, bruised face would elicit sympathy and hopefully, she'd forget how mad she was at her husband.

"Wanna tell me how you knew all that?" Jason stood next to Trent's gently swinging hammock.

Eyes closed, Trent stifled a sigh, willed the hammock still, so much for making the boss believe he was asleep. Right, don't go after Brock, come after him. Brock might be a man of few words, but once he got going on a subject or topic he was invested in or pissed off over, no one would be able to shut him up until he was done venting. All you had to do was nit and pick until you got him going, but apparently Jason didn't want to take the time to goad Brock into losing his temper when Trent was easier to verbally accost.

"Brock tracked down Donte Myers from Clay's unit. We paid a visit." He sat up, lowered one leg to the floor to set the hammock swinging again. Jason pushed a hand through his hair. How the hell had Brock come up with a name to track down in the first place? Brock wandered over, sat down on a crate and together, they filled their team in on their visit to Clay's ex-teammate. "Short flight, low altitude." Trent said in response to a question about Clay flying so soon despite the suggestion he wait three days. "Probably hard on him, but Blackburn ordered him checked out, so guessing he's good."

"If he's not?" Ray asked.

Trent hesitated, looked at Brock, both lowered their gaze to the floor, shrugged, fidgeted.

"Spit it out." Oh, Jason knew that look, that gesture. "I know I'm not going to like it." That was another thing that pissed him off. These two peas in a pod knew a side of Clay that he'd yet to figure out.

"Thinking it won't matter." Trent said finally. "We know what he'll push through for us. He isn't close to Cap, and the one or two guys still active from that unit that he might feel he owes something to, aren't over there, but…." He paused, shrugged, "Cap knows how to play him."

"Guilt." Brock added. "He knows how to manipulate Clay to get what he wants."

"Meaning?"

"Cap has a bum shoulder. Clay shot through him to save Watkins. Surgery repaired most of the damage, but he has limited range. It took him out of the field, reduced him to command."

Heads swung to pin Phil Crawford with death glares. Blackburn huffed, hand in his hair. Everything he'd read, watched, seen, heard hadn't alluded to any injury to Cap.

"Crawford?" Eric questioned, eyebrow quirked. "You forgot to mention that."

"That's classified." Phil sputtered. How the hell did Bravo find out information like this? HOW!?

"But true?"

"So, the kid had to make a split-second decision, shoot his team leader to save a teammate, I getting that right?" Sonny asked. "Risk injuring someone permanently to save the life of a man already tortured? You put him in that situation? You're a sonofabitch."

"That's pretty hard to come back from." Ray frowned, wondered how Spenser had dealt with it all.

"Look, your boy Spenser was off the rails that mission. He disobeyed orders, led an unauthorized rescue and not only engaged in a fist-fight with his team leader, he also shot him."

"He saved a teammate from unspeakable torture. Disfigurement. Dismemberment."

"He caused the death of three…."

"Don't. You. Dare." Ray warned. "Watch it Crawford."

Eric slapped a file in front of Phil. "Your entire black-op is now declassified – all of it – to everyone on this plane. Start again, from the beginning, and this time, don't leave anything out."

"Like how Clay shooting his team leader was edited out of the footage we were shown." Sonny drawled. "Sir." He added with heavy sarcasm.

"How did you find Donte Myers? Even know his name?" Phil stared at Brock. "Christ!"

Brock shrugged, smirked infuriatingly with a nonchalance that had Phil drawing blood from chewing his cheek, fondled Cerb's ears. Retired or medically discharged vets often had a companion dog and that dog had a trainer and that trainer knew someone who trained dogs for the military whose organization knew of an organization that helped place retired military dogs and matched soldiers and sailors suffering from injury or mental illness with a support or comfort or service dog, and so on and so forth.

"I'm thinking," Jason said slowly, turning to face Eric. "They don't know who she is. Every photo and video we've seen, shows her dressed in robes and a hijab from seven years ago. She wouldn't be easily recognizable. They don't even know how old she is. Right Crawford? You need Clay to identify her. You think you've found her and want him to confirm it." Questions was, if Cap had seen her the same two times Clay had, what made him think Clay could identify her any more than he could?

"You fucking prick." Sonny stood up. "If anything happens to him….we get him back and Trent says there's a new bruise anywhere on him, your face is gonna look like his did, the last time I saw him."

And that right there was why Blackburn didn't request a transfer or retire: The mind of Jason Hayes. The loyalty of Bravo to one another.

"Sit down and shut up." Phil ordered angrily. Sonny didn't move. "We've been after her since she planned the ambush that led to three dead members of the U.S. Navy. We will get her by any means necessary."

"Clay isn't a means to an end."

"If that sonofabitch guilts our kid into going off to meet a bunch of terrorists without us, he's gonna end up with two bum shoulders." Sonny vowed.

Phil Crawford glowered, sat down in defeat and motioned for a video to roll.

***000***

After submitting to numerous cognitive tests as well as another CT scan, or maybe it was an MRI, assuring the doctor he had indeed flown with medical clearance, and convincing Jimmy he hadn't voluntarily tried to break a sink off a wall with his face, Clay was finally released to return to his quarters and allowed to seek his bed.

It felt like he'd been poked prodded, maneuvered and questioned for hours, but in reality, much less time had passed. Still, he ached and his face throbbed and he gave up trying to untie his laces and worked the boots off his feet by brute strength. Two seconds after the second boot hit a wall and fell to the floor with a thud, his jeans were off and he was in bed.

He knew he was wanted back in the command center, but he just couldn't bring himself to go, so he'd just wait here until someone came and got him. The doctor had tried to call Doc but he was unavailable, which told Clay, he was on the plane coming to get him with Bravo. Clay had the number of a satellite phone that would reach someone on the plane but he didn't share that information or offer the number. He didn't want to deal with it because he wanted a nap before getting yelled at.

He sighed, mother hen and her duckling both on his ass meant he wouldn't have a moment's peace, maybe he shouldn't be here when they arrived. He frowned, punched his pillowcase – pillow, humph – damn thing was flat. Trent would kick his ass, he had to track down Clay to see him for himself and if Doc had to do any chasing…geesch, he'd issue medical orders that involved ice baths, being bled by leeches, consumption of cod liver oil or some other medieval torture that at one time in recorded history, had passed as acceptable medical treatment.

The doctor had even tried to call the quack Clay had seen at the infirmary the day the sink laughed at his head's attempts to dislodge it, but that good Doc had been unexpectedly and suddenly reassigned – to where, no one seemed to know. Clay rolled onto his back, gingerly felt his eyes, his nose, grinned. Undoubtedly, Blackburn was behind that.

Bravo really owed their Lieutenant Commander a lifetime supply of his favorite liquor. He put up with a lot of shit. Though maybe,his wife and liver might disagree. Sooo….what else would Blackburn appreciate? His team behaving, not sassing back….maybe they could try 'yes, sirring' him for a week.

His stomach growled. He lowered a hand to pat his belly button in a lame attempt to appease it. Jimmy had brought him some fruit and cheese in case he felt like eating but he wasn't hungry – least, he hadn't thought he was. His mind was awhirl. He was confused, lost and more than a bit apprehensive. His ability to think was non-existent. He should be able to put together whatever Cap was up to, but all he could do was lie there and try to determine if green apples were ripe enough to eat.

Bravo was coming to get him. Part of him was tickled, proud, pleased. The other part, not so much. It wasn't like he'd had run away from home. He'd been given orders and he'd obeyed them, had wanted to, but he well knew – hell, everyone knew – Jason hated anyone taking anything he considered his, away from him.

That – Jason not giving his 'permission' – would've motivated Jason into action faster than Clay haring off on his own on a mission with another unit. Either way, he was fucked. Once again, he was the reason Bravo was off on an expensive, un-needed mission and he didn't even know how the hell he'd ended up there.

Or maybe he did. Christ, his head hurt. He should get up, find some ice. The doctor had released him from the infirmary with a couple of those instant ice packs Trent was so fond of and used all the time….just, where the hell had he left them?

His skull kicked his temple, caused him to moan, press a palm against his eyebrows, reminded him it was not at all happy with his feeble attempts to ignore it. What was he doing? Trying to do? Eat? Make ice? Think? Wait….oh right…..yeah…Cap. There was no way in hell Wasiqa had agreed to a meeting with the American military.

No. Way. In. Hell.

And nothing anyone said or did would convince him otherwise. She wouldn't even had responded to any rumors or attempts to contact her. With her husband dead, all she wanted was to be left alone to live the life of a simple farmer in a peaceful village. She was done with death and destruction and violence.

Yes, she had known about her husband's activities but her involvement had ended as soon as she celebrated his death. Yes, she had been behind the attack on his unit at the warehouse and yes, she had ensured Clay was nowhere near the building when it blew. Yes, she had taken Barry Watkins, authorized his torture, expected a rescue attempt, laid a trap. Yes, she had planned to kill everyone involved but she hadn't expected to see Clay with the rescue team and her plans had been altered.

She promised to withdraw and disappear if Clay would let her go. What sense that made, he didn't know but he did and she had. So, what had prompted Cap to send a team out looking for her now? He rubbed his closed eyes wearily, thought about getting up to get something to eat, find the ice packs, didn't move.

Cap wanted her dead for the destruction she'd wrought on his unit. Cap blamed him for her getting away but Clay felt if he'd just listened, left the well alone and walked away, none of what followed would have happened. Wasiqa damn well knew the fist-fight between Cap and Clay had been about the well and the humane treatment of the animals and residents of the village.

He had neither proof nor confirmation, but he guessed she had decided on revenge when Cap had laughed derisively and scorned Clay's attempts to plead on their behalf. Members of his team had pulled him and Cap apart and Brian had told him to take a walk, calm down, get his head together but still hot-headed when Cap mockingly ordered the men to continue, he'd put a bullet through the canister before it could be dumped in the well.

Cap had been so furious that Brian and Myers had then bodily picked Clay up and carried him away. Cap blamed him for the explosion at the warehouse and the trap when they'd rescued Watkins but the Navy had agreed with Clay that orders hadn't been to kill villagers, even though Cap had claimed she'd tried to kill him. She hadn't. Yes, she'd struck him, but not with a weapon and had done him no harm. Cap had ruthlessly put her down, actually punched her with a closed fist and Clay believed that was the reason she had targeted the team. That and Cap's attitude and behavior at the village, not anything Clay had done.

That's what he liked and respected about Jason. His willingness to hear his men out. No one on Bravo would ever lay a hand on a woman unless it was to protect themselves or a teammate. And Bravo One would listen to his men's thoughts and opinions. He acknowledged someone might have a better understanding or know more about a country or culture than he did. He might not always agree or see things the same way, but he listened.

Clay might drive Jason to drink, turn his hair grey, be the cause for Blackburn's dependency on anti-acids, but he couldn't imagine ever doing anything that would provoke Jason to punch him. The same couldn't be said for Cap, making Clay leery to trust him and loathe to follow him.

His skull kicked harder, aimed behind his left ear. That was odd. He didn't usually get headaches behind his ears. He should get up and find something cold to eat. Another home remedy from Grandma Sawyer that either worked because it was effective or worked because Clay thought it did. Either way, his head was aching badly enough, he needed to go in search of a popsicle. Funny how an ice pack on his face made his head feel cold but holding something cold against the roof of his mouth, made his head feel better.

Cap blamed Clay for his loss of career in the field. He blamed Clay for what happened to Myers, Watkins. He blamed Clay for the deaths of three good, decent men. He blamed Clay for everything and had been absolutely furious the Navy hadn't. That Clay hadn't.

And Clay hadn't because Cap had refused to listen. He'd understood every word she had screamed at Cap and when Clay had tried to tell his boss who she was, that she had means, connections and power, he'd been shut down. Cap hadn't wanted to hear it, hadn't let Clay explain, hadn't listened to Brian who had tried to intervene.

Cap didn't even know who she was by sight. He'd only ever seen her dressed in robes and head scarves. No one knew Clay had a conversation with her after waking up from being clobbered and relocated. When she'd said she'd spare his life – would always spare his life – because of his actions at the village but she wasn't responsible for the actions of others.

So, when and how had Cap figured out Clay could identify her? If his head weren't so muddled, if it didn't hurt to think, if his ears hadn't clogged up to keep his brain inside his skull, he'd be able to pull all his thoughts together and put them in some sort of order.

Did Cap intend to risk war between those in authority, the U.S. troops, local police, insurgents, terrorists' groups? Because that's what he was going to get, he went and stirred shit up, called her out. Cap simply didn't get, or refused to accept, what happened to Myers and Watkins, the three deaths, happened because of his actions, not Clay's.

During their brief conversation after he'd shot Cap and Brian had Barry in his arms, he'd asked why she had taken a hostage, had it been a trap to lure the rest of the team to their deaths, but she hadn't answered. He'd told her he'd been the one to find where she was holding Watkins and he would keep the knowledge that she, not her husband, had run the ISIS network to himself since she had never targeted U.S. military before, if she'd go underground.

She'd allowed him to take Watkins and leave and that had been the last time he'd seen or heard from her.

Until now.

What the hell was he doing here? He didn't owe Cap a damn thing and this was not going to go over well with his team. From Blackburn to Cerberus, they'd let him have it.

Hell, he didn't know and he was too tired and in too much discomfort to figure it out. He owed her for letting him take Watkins and the men with him and leave. The team would never have made it out alive if she hadn't let them. And she'd only done so, because Clay had been there. It hadn't mattered she was the reason they were there in the first place.

He expected a knock on the door, summoning him to command, but none came. Good Christ, but his head hurt. How many days ago had it been since his encounter with the sink? Trent had kept saying he'd feel better after three or so…but he didn't. Maybe it had been the flight. Didn't matter. He was alone, in a quiet, alone dark room and he intended to sleep until someone came to wake him up.

His body's demands for rest fought with his desire to appease his head. So, purple popsicle? Or red. Would probably be orange. He rolled off the bed, pushed to his feet. Fuck his boots. It was hot outside and he was only walking to the mess tent – wherever the hell that was. Where was Brock when you needed him? That man could sniff cinnamon through a concrete wall.

He found an ice pack, activated it, wrapped it in a towel, held it over his face in just the way, he could blearily see out of one eye. He opened the door and stepped outside before he remembered he wasn't wearing pants.

He didn't care. Now that he was upright, he had more urgent thoughts on his mind.

Who would get their way first? Jason or Cap?
A Jason versus Cap fist fight was inevitable.
Sonny was gonna lose his shit.
If he was ordered out before Bravo arrived, whose ass would get kicked first?
And if he went without Bravo, how long before he'd be forgiven?
And when they found him, would he be hit or hugged?

()()()

"Where the hell is Spenser?" Cap demanded when Jimmy returned alone to command. He craned his neck to look behind the smirking man who was slow to move out of the doorway. He was in the process of standing up when Jimmy finally moved and it became obvious to everyone in the room Clay wasn't behind him. He sank back into his chair, hand rubbing his shoulder.

"You talking to me?" Jimmy asked calmly. "By order of his CO and the doctor, he went to bed."

"He's not here to go to bed." Cap fumed. "The doctor sent his report, he's cleared to operate." He ignored the comment 'but not recommended' muttered by someone in the room. "When can I expect him in command?"

A woman closed folders, stacked them neatly, pushed to her feet. "When his team gets here." Cap glared. "Don't give me that look, those are the orders I've received."

"We don't need Bravo."

She shrugged, picked up her laptop, tucked it under her arm. "Regardless, you're getting them. Good day, gentlemen."

Jimmy followed her from the room, leaving Cap with the remaining occupants to discuss a new plan.

"….never thought Bravo…."

"….I mean, who'd believe they'd come…."

"….it's just Spenser…."

"….he's one man…"

"…who does Blackburn think he is?"

"…fucking Hayes. Never could stand the guy."

Cap held his shoulder that all of a sudden ached. Spenser's fault. The little shit. Always thinking he was better than everyone one else. Better shot, better fighter, better strategist.

He wouldn't wait for the rescue team to go after Watkins. Nope, he'd insisted on going then and there and once Armstrong had agreed, there'd been no stopping the rest of the men from lining up behind Spenser to go get their man. Cap had been in charge but the men had backed Spenser, not him and Cap had finally been forced to accept they were going with or without him. He'd agreed to join them because it would have 'looked bad', had he not.

On paper, in reports, on official documents, it said Cap had led the rescue, but everyone knew it had been Spenser. Knew the only reason Watkins was alive with all body parts intact was because of Spenser, not Cap. He wondered what her plan would have been, had it not been his team to walk to into the trap to save Watkins. Would she have left Watkins alive; no hands, no feet, blind, deaf, mute?

Dammit it to hell, the whore had been there and fucking Spenser had chosen to save Watkins instead of securing her capture. Spenser had never confirmed it was the same woman from the village, but Cap damn well knew it was. She had witnessed the disagreement, the fist-fight and Cap bet she spoke perfect English which meant she knew what the fight had been about.

Cap had been bleeding on the floor, the men disoriented from the sudden attack from a way laid trap that included 50 cal rounds, flash bangs, fire and smoke from explosions. Spenser could have grabbed her, cuffed her...he could have had her! But no. He had stepped over Cap and gone with Armstrong straight to Watkins. Words between Spenser and Jaber had been exchanged but no one knew what the hell had been said.

It burned him that Spenser had been able to understand what she'd said at the village. That was part of the reason Cap had wanted to wait for the rescue team. An interpreter would have been with them and nothing said between the whore and Spenser would have been secret. Pfft, Spenser had later revealed what they'd said in debrief, but Cap knew he hadn't revealed the entire conversation.

If she'd been at the warehouse explosion, she'd remained hidden because no one had reported seeing her. And Spenser of course, had been 'relocated' but….what if….what if….before he'd made his way back to the base…when he first woke up….he hadn't been alone? What if she had been there and they'd had the chance to…talk?

She'd never been seen nor heard from again after she disappeared from the building Spenser had let her walk out of. Cap had spent the last seven years searching for her but nothing had popped on up on the radar until a month ago when someone had heard someone say something about 'Jaber's widow' and here they were, finally closing in.

Watkins was alive because Spenser took an impossible shot. Thanks to Spenser's heroics, he'd returned home and despite what he had been through, with counseling and support groups, was living a fairly normal life, all limbs and senses intact, capable of functioning and his kids still had a father. And Cap still had a career in the military, could still shoot, throw, do everything a man was capable of, just…despite several surgeries, the injury had never healed correctly, not in combat or in the field.

Was that Spenser's fault? Depended on who you asked. The Navy had cleared him of any wrong-doing, hailed him a hero, let him do what he wanted, which was to leave for Green Team and now here he was, running with Bravo, of all god-damn mother-fucking teams. How the hell had that arrogant little asshole landed with the one man in the entire Navy who was famously known for being fiercely protective of what he considered his? The luck Spenser had burned a hole daily in his gut.

He believed because Spenser had never liked or respected him, hadn't felt any remorse for taking the shot that had ended his operating days, for ruining his career to save the life of another. Three men dead, Donte Myers maimed for life, Watkins never right mentally again, he out of the field. And Armstrong – a decent man anyone would be happy to call friend – dead in a training accident. And Spenser had walked away with a bump on the head. Not fair.

Cap had never met Blackburn or anyone on Bravo but their reputation was well known and he harbored a hatred based on envy, jealousy. And now knowing what lengths the team would go to, what they would demand and go through, to reach Spenser's side made him see red. He could chew nails, swallow and spit them out, he was so pissed off!

"Cap?"

"Yeah." Cap reached for the file being held out to him. "Where we at?"

***000***

The C17 landed and Bravo gathered their gear, trudged down the ramp. They were tired, antsy, pissed, anxious and hungry.

Eric wanted an update.
Jason wanted someone to yell at.
Ray wanted a sandwich.
Sonny wanted someone to hit.
Trent wanted to talk to the infirmary doctor.
Brock wanted to lay eyes on Clay.
Jason and Sonny got their wish.

They were met and offered an escort to their quarters. They ignored the man and headed straight to command – easy to find, it was the only building with a light shining from every window - where all hell immediately broke loose.

Those in command were surprised to see Bravo. Oh, they'd expected their arrival, just not quite so soon. Despite Bravo's reputation, there simply was no way, even they, could change the laws of physics and fly here faster.

One would think.

When Crawford was informed Clay wasn't in his quarters, Jason found someone to yell at.
When Cap entered the room with a smirk, Sonny found someone to hit.

"OW!" Cap yelped, hands clutching his nose. "Who the hell are you?! You broke it!" He turned to Jimmy. "Did he break it? It's broken, isn't it?"

"Blackburn, control you man."

"You shouldn't hit someone of superior rank." Ray scolded, hesitated. Should he go after Jason? Deal with Sonny? Go after Trent and Brock who had both left the room when chaos had erupted. What were they up to?

"He ain't superior to nothing." Sonny muttered, but after a look from Blackburn, he pulled out a chair, sat down, reached for files and papers strewn on the table. "What have we here?"

"YOU HAD NO RIGHT!" Jason, across the room, was shouting at Phil.

"Hayes, for Christ Sake, sit down." Crawford sighed. "Blackburn!"

"That sonofabitch broke my nose!" Cap howled. "Put him in cuffs! I want him in cuffs."

"You said he'd be here." Jason ranted.

"His orders were to remain on base." Crawford insisted. "Cap doesn't have the authority to override that."

"Who does?"

"I. Don't. Know."

"You'd better find out.

Eric pushed his hands through his hair. "Doesn't matter now Jason. He can't be far, they'll round him up. While we wait for them to bring him over, let's get caught up on..."

"You're not doing anything," bloody towel in one hand, Cap pushed to his feet. "I outrank you Blackburn, you aren't calling the shots here."

Eric slapped a folder on the table, snapped his fingers for someone to boot up a laptop and display images on the large TV screen. The buzz in the room fell silent, everyone waited for the next move.

"You're no longer in charge." Eric said calmly. "Wasiqa did not send out a request for a meeting. She went to ground seven years ago and hasn't been heard from since. Not a rumor, not a sighting, no chatter. You encouraged Spenser to report to you based on false intel. Hell, you manufactured it."

"What are you getting at Blackburn?" Cap spat. "You're not wanted here. Hell, I don't even know how the hell you got permission to come here. This mission does not require a Tier One team."

"Just Spenser." Sonny piped up. "Coffee? Anyone got coffee? Oh, thanks," he sniffed a mug someone handed him. "Is it fresh? No decaf, is it? Donuts? Yo Brock!" He snagged a box, pulled it closer. "Any maple?"

"You want her dead and you can't even identify her. You need Spenser to do that and you got him here by playing on his loyalty to his team, his guilt over what happened to Watkins, Myers."

"The moment that bitch laid a hand on me, he should have put a bullet through her damn head." Cap stalked around the table. "If he had, none of it would have happened!"

"Don't put your failures on a 20-year-old kid." Jason spoke up. "When you found no evidence in that village to support the claims it was involved with insurgents, you should have scattered the livestock, burned it to the ground. No need to poison the well."

"Look who she turned out to be."

"No one." Ray said calmly. "She was no one until you poked and provoked her and here you are, wanting to do it again."

"After seven years, I finally have a lead on the bitch." Cap slapped the TV, the image showed a destroyed village dated seven years ago. "It could have, should have, ended here. It didn't, but by Christ, it's going to end this time."

"You're just all pissed off that Spenser came out smelling like roses." Sonny munched, swallowed the bite of donut with coffee that could be hotter. "If you'd poisoned the well, he would have been blown up with the rest of the unit but didn't happen that way, now did it?"

"Bet that's stuck up your ass, huh." Jason didn't wither under the glare Cap leveled him with. He stepped closer, now in Cap's personal space. "You're not going to use him to draw her out."

"What makes you think she'll even respond?" Ray asked. "Don't tell us she responded to your request for a meeting by asking for Clay. That's bullshit."

"Shows how stupid he is." Sonny remarked. "Thinking we'd believe that."

"What?" Cap held a towel of ice against his nose someone had handed him. Sonny snickered, commented that Cap now looked just like Clay. "What did you say?"

"You brought Clay here thinking he was going to meet with her to talk about rumors of unrest in the area." Ray said. "Not lead her into a trap for her capture."

Jason caught Eric's eye as the conversation erupted around them. Eric shook his head, nodded, threw his hands up in the motion of defeat.

"We don't trust her."

"Nor should you."

"…she's agreed to the meeting….?"

"Was it her? How do you know it was? How was this meeting arranged? You sure about this?"

"After all this time, you were able to reach out to her?"

"Not suspicious at all."

"ENOUGH!" Jason roared, capped his temper. "We aren't through." He told Cap. "Whatever guilt trip you laid on that kid's gonna end with me."

"Stow your crap Hayes." Cap sneered.

"He might not have ended your career seven years ago, but he comes back with a bruise, I'll end it for you now."

"Jay, truck is loaded, let's go." Trent popped his head around the door.

"Truck? What truck?" Cap demanded. "Loaded with what? Go where? Crawford…"

"Out of my hands Cap." Phil replied. "You were told to produce Spenser when Bravo arrived, you didn't."

"For Christ sake! They're looking for his ass! He'll be here!"

"How hard is it to find one man on a base this small?"

"How does that explain their access to a truck?" Cap ignored Crawford. "Weapons? No way did they bring a truck on the plane big enough…."

"Commander." Randy entered with Brock. "Good to go."

"Set up there." Eric told Randy, handed him a folder. "Address and coordinates of the alleged meet."

"How the fuck did you get that?"

"Let me connect with Davis, get eyes in the sky."

"Eyes?" Cap repeated startled. "A drone? You can't be serious."

"Well, unless you wish to grant me access to yours?" Randy waited, but no one met his eyes. "What I thought."

Trent stood aside to allow Jimmy entrance into the room. He approached the table, turned to Cap. "Sir, we…."

"Where is he this time?" Cap asked crossly. "And I don't want to hear he's whining about needing sleep. I ordered him to command and I expect him to be here."

"Sir, we can't find him." Jimmy said. "We've looked everywhere. He's not in the showers or the mess tent or the rec center or the infirmary or the gym. No one has seen him."

"What are you saying?" Eric asked.

"I'm saying sir, he's nowhere on this base."

"Go." Eric told Bravo, "I'll cover here."

Still in the doorway, Trent pulled out his cell, made a call: Dutch disconnected, addressed his men.

"Gear up, we're hitting the hills." He announced. "We'll split up here. Chuck, Greg stand by. Randy's with Blackburn. Chris, Seth, Kenny and Karl, with Bravo. Rest of you, with me."

"Our mission?"

"Spenser's missing."