So after I beat up on McG a bit in my other fanfic I realized that we just needed a little bit more of him in action. Aiming to do a oneshot per episode where medic McG has to put his skills to work to take care of the team.
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Mortem two you are clear of threats, but not for long.
Recommend immediate dustoff.
McG leans forward as much as he can without taking the pressure off the fresh bandage he is holding tight to Cassie's stomach. He cranes his neck to look out the open helicopter door, searching the darkness for signs of their missing team members. He can't really see much from here but the wetness under his fingers keeps him in his seat. Their trip to the chopper seems to have undone most of his handiwork and there is more red on the gauze than he was hoping for. The blood transfusion should be enough to tide her over til they get back assuming he can keep this new bleeding under control and assuming they get this show on the road soon.
What is taking them so long?
Top had planned to be only a few seconds behind if their timing was right.
Apparently it wasn't right… or something had gone very wrong. His brain helpfully supplied the last part even as he tried to stay optimistic.
Mortem 2...
This was getting close to being a problem.
They can't sit here forever. They know full well that the distraction will only hold so long until the trucks begin circling back to the chopper's location. Hell, it may have already stopped working judging by the increasingly desperate tones in his ear.
So where the hell are they.
MORTEM 2...
It's so loud this time he flinches slightly and then has to murmur an apology when Cassie shifts uncomfortably under his hands.
He watches Jaz out of the corner of his eye.
She is steadfastly ignoring her earpiece. They both know what command wants, it's just not a decision either of them are willing to make right now.
Jaz turns from her post and catches him looking. He can see the wheels turning rapidly as she considers options. Finally the gears stop and the anxiety in her face vanishes. Its replaced by a serene look that is both resigned and determined.
Decision made.
She meets his gaze and moves to grasp the door handle. He is confused by the hint of apology he sees in her face and even more surprised that she is giving in so easily.
When the door starts to close and her two feet are still solidly on Ukrainian soil her plan suddenly becomes crystal clear.
"Jesus Jaz"
Surprise turns to exasperation and he is halfway out of his seat, intent on dragging her ass inside the chopper if he has to, when Cassie's voice distracts him.
"There they are!"
Amir takes a break from watching the far side of landing strip and raises an eyebrow at him. It's only about the 15th time today they've been impressed by the CIA operative today. Pale as a ghost and barely conscious, she has still managed to spot the movement in the distance before any of them could. He gives Amir a grin in return, able to relax a bit more now that he knows the chopper won't be leaving two men short.
Preach is leading the way with Dalton a step behind bringing up the rear. Top pauses before he clambors aboard.
"Did you see the signal?" he demands jokingly with a wry smile.
Jaz rolls her eyes and scoffs at the dark humour and McG shares her sentiment. She slams the door shut with a little extra force and this time she is on the right side of it.
The bird rises up in the air. The noise of the blades steals any opportunity for any retort they might have chosen to make. Instead they sit in their seats tense and quiet, acutely aware of the how the last chopper fared against the Russian firepower.
They climb, and climb and then finally Noah's voice brings welcome news.
Mortem two you are clear of 50 cal range.
Now, they settle back into their seats, fingers loosening on their guns and on the straps. There are shared grins all around, appreciating their escape from yet another tight squeeze.
He turns back to Cassie. Ready to check another round of vitals and maybe hook up some fluids now that they will be stationary for a few minutes.
Very shortly McG is the only one left awake. He is satisfied with Cassie's vitals, just not satisfied enough to join his teammates. It's a fairly short trip back compared to most of their transport times. It had been under two hours from receiving the initial call to arriving on scene in Sverdlovsk. He can stand watch a little longer, it's what he signed up for.
It's a short and bumpy ride back to meet the C-130.
This omega team is filled with true professionals though.
They can sack out within moments in any situation. Cramped car, dirty floor, busy room, noisy chopper… it doesn't matter. Not when you have been running on adrenaline for the past couple days straight and the mission is finally done. You take the rest when you can get it.
Dalton in particular is notorious for crashing immediately on their trips home. He rarely takes a break in the field, even on prolonged missions. Ironically he always forces his team to take rest periods harping on the fact that a tired soldier is an ineffective one. It's just more of a do as I say not as I do thing and as if he is convinced that by remaining awake and on guard he can prevent something from happening to his team.
So it's not unusual when he doesn't stir the whole way back.
It is however concerning when the man doesn't wake as they start to descend. Dalton remains completely oblivious to the change in altitude and the increased movement around him.
The helicopter lands with a jolt and Top still shows no sign of waking even as his team is up and out of their seats and milling about. It isn't until Preach nudges his leg that bleary eyes finally crack open and he comes back to awareness. He moves to get to his feet, straightening up and then swaying unsteadily, as if the helicopter was still in motion rather than firmly settled on the ground.
McG is busy helping Cassie to her feet, working with Amir to smoothly transition her and her IV over to the waiting plane when he catches the irregular movement out of the corner of his eye. It is over in a second because Adam compensates quickly, hand reaching out to find purchase on the metal siding. By the time McG turns to take a good look he has found his balance and its as if nothing happened. Oblivious to the scrutiny Dalton smoothly grabs his gear and slowly makes his way out of the helicopter without further incident, his movements just a hair too cautious and deliberate.
Preach trails behind the stubborn man, saying nothing but purposefully slowing his movements to remain in sync. The elder man finally hops out after Adam does, watching his friend cross the pavement towards the waiting C-130. When Preach's feet hit the tarmac he turns back to reach into the bird for some more equipment and he takes the opportunity to shoot a look in McG's direction.
McG gives a small nod of recognition. He shares Preach's concern and resolves to check in on their leader as soon as he can.
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Don't puke on the plane
Don't puke on the plane
Don't puke on the plane
Dalton holds onto that one thought as if mind over matter will be enough to keep his stomach contents where they belong. He swallows hard, feeling a cold sweat breaking out on his neck and forehead as he tries to breath through the discomfort.
He closes his eyes and leans back against the cold wall. It feels wonderful against his pounding head and he wonders if people will notice if he turns and puts his entire clammy face against it.
Probably yah.
He is so tired and would like nothing better than to drift back off to sleep right now. Actually tired doesn't seem like a strong enough word for what he is feeling. Exhausted. Bone weary. Fatigued. Those are getting closer.
It wasn't that long a mission but it seems to taken it out of him mentally and physically.
His newly formed team had breezed through their first few missions together with only a small amount of friction. He had hoped they would resolve themselves with time, that the team would adapt to the new member and find their groove. But they hadn't and that was on him. Those little issues had chafed when exposed to the additional stressors like the lack of intel and lack of action they had faced in the Ukraine. They had become full blown fires that he had spent much of the mission putting out.
Clearly there were some unresolved issues he needed to address. Conversations with Jaz, and Amir that needed to be hard, before anything festered further. Now wasn't the time though. They had gotten the job done and it was time to rest and recover. Reflection could wait until they were all a bit fresher after some much needed sleep.
His stomach churned again, heat rising up his face and heart pounding throughout his body as another wave of nausea swept him. He mentally ran through the last 24 hours reviewing if he had eaten anything funny. There really hadn't been much, and most of it had been packaged in a preprocessed bar so that seemed an unlikely cause. He also hadn't hit his head, so it wasn't a concussion at work.
That left the blood transfusion.
It wasn't the even close to the first time he had given blood on a mission. Perks of being a universal donor.
He had never felt like this after though. Usually he was a little extra tired but the lightheadedness had caught him by surprise when he transferred between the chopper and the plane. Not too long after the nausea had hit him swift and sudden. Maybe he had given more than usual? Or he just hadn't eaten as much before. Either way it appeared to be kicking his ass right now.
Ah well. They were almost back and then he could climb into bed and rack out for a while. He would feel better after a few hours of sleep.
He felt the plane level out beneath him as they reached their cruising altitude. With any luck the flight might smooth out a bit now. C-130's were fast and efficient but about as far from aviation luxury as it got. Take off was usually particularly turbulent as the engines fought to get to full velocity.
Sure enough the trembling of the walls and seats eased off. He took a couple deep breaths, holding the air for a second blowing it out slowly with his eyes still closed. He ran himself through a long held routine focusing on relaxing each part of his body piece by piece and ignoring the swirling in his gut. He could feel the tension drain out of his feet, legs, hands, arms and his mind emptying of the days stresses. With his mind blank and body loose the heaviness that came before sleep began to creep in…
….For the second time that day a leg nudged him back awake. He was even less impressed this time.
He cracked open an eye, expecting to find Preach again. Expecting to have landed back at base. Instead he found the plane still moving and McG sitting beside him.
"What"
There was a little more bite in his words than intended.
McG didn't respond. It gave him a moment to orient himself.
He took a deep breath to shake the last dregs of sleep and annoyance and tried again with more of a controlled tone.
"Everything ok?" His eyes automatically swept the cabin, relaxing slightly as the sight of Jaz, Preach and Amir all in their normal spots.
"Cassie?"
McG ignored his questions, and only now did Dalton realize why. The medic's fingers were wrapped around his wrist and the man was focused on counting the beats under his fingers as he stared at his watch.
He pulled his arm away from McG's grip. Keeping his voice low so as not to draw attention.
"I'm fine McG"
"Uh huh sure you are. Here drink this"
The medic matched his volume, but there was an underlying firmness to it as he offered Adam a small package of something liquidy.
Adam eyed the pack in McG's hand suspiciously, squinting at the lettering trying to see what he was supposed to be drinking. He couldn't make out the words, and he sure as hell wasn't going to admit that to McG, but it looked like one of those fuel pouches marathon runners guzzled mid race. He had drank one before and wasn't eager to repeat the experience. They usually tasted strongly of fake chemical flavours that lingered in your mouth for hours afterwards. No thank you, he could wait till they got back and someone, hopefully Amir, made some real food.
"I'm fine McG"
He said it a little louder this time, but it was just as ignored and the medic gave him a look of disbelief.
"Fine huh. I guess we just better do a little bit more PT when we get back then because your 100m dash time is a little slow these days. Hell even Preach beat you to the LZ. But no, you're right. You're fine. I'm sure being nauseous and dizzy is normal after every mission right?"
The sarcastic presentation was a bit stronger than usual from the tired medic, but he was clearly just as sharp as ever and hadn't missed a thing that was going on with his CO.
McG took a deep breath and tried again in a softer tone.
"Seriously man, drink it. You'll feel better. There's a reason they give you a juicebox and a cookie after you give blood"
Adam sighed. Looking distastefully down at the package still stubbornly being held out to him. He quirked half a smile at McG.
"Got any cookies?"
The medic chuckled quietly… "No, but I do have a big bag of fluids.I could start an IV if you prefer"
On one of Adam's first tours he had been jacked up for a mission, overly excited at their high value target and eager to be the team that finally captured the man after so many years. They had run into unexpected opposition and his CO's had called for them to pull back. His younger self had been livid, hyped up on adrenaline and made stupid by disappointment, he had stepped out of line and questioned the man's orders not unlike Jaz today. The man could have reamed Adam out. Hell, he could have done a lot worse. Instead he had smiled at Dalton and shared a pearl of wisdom that Dalton still held on to today; A good leader knows when to retreat. Sometimes the smartest thing you can do is admit when you are outmaneuvered.
The medic had outmaneuvered him and he knew it.
McG : 1 , Dalton : 0
He ripped open the pack and chugged it in one go. It tasted as terrible as he expected even after he chased it with some stale water from his canteen.
McG gave him a pat on the leg and rose out of the seat, satisfied and only slightly smug in his victory. The medic crossed back across the plane to check on his other patient leaving Adam in peace. He closed his eyes and leaned his head back and let sleep claim him again.
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McG spends the rest of the short plane ride splitting his attention between the Top and Cassie. With Cassie he continues to run through a series of checks, but with Dalton he just watches from a far letting the man sleep. He knows better than to push his luck.
They finally touchdown back down on turkish soil and the team is up and out of their seats quickly, eager to get back to base and already calling dibs on the first shower.
He watches Top stumble slightly going down the ramp. Jaz catches his elbow and teases him about having two left feet. Adam plays it off smoothly, claiming that Preach tripped him up get to the shower first.
The man was good but McG isn't fooled and he frowns at the implication. Dalton should have been feeling better by now.
It wasn't the first time they had used Top as a blood bank so he had a pretty good reference point of how much blood he could take and how it would affect their leader. With the amount he had drawn to stabilize Cassie the man was usually a little tired but definitely not this off kilter.
He mentally reviewed the mission. Adam hadn't slept or eaten much and although both of those were fairly standard they may have been a bit more exaggerated than normal. There also had been no down time after he had given blood. McG had barely pulled the needles out when Adam had been up and scheming with Preach. He had grabbed his gear and gun and headed out to set the diversion which had probably involved a lot of running around that wasn't on the recommended list of activities after donating blood.
He loses track of Dalton for a a few moments when the Medical team approaches the plane with a stretcher for Cassie. He assists with transport to the vehicle, and fills the doctors in on her vitals and the treatment that he has done to this point. With a final smile he tells her to take care of herself and not to be a stranger before she is transported off to base medical.
By the time he makes it back to base the team is settled in at the table eating, all except one. The one he really wanted to find.
He doesn't even need to ask the question. The team shares his concern and Jaz wordlessly points towards the living area.
McG follows her finger and lets out a sigh. Top didn't even make it to his bed. Adam's pasty face is pushed into the couch cushion at an awkward angle. It looks like he may have literally fallen asleep. Judging by his position he was sitting up at some point and then appears to have slumped over into some semblance of a horizontal sleeping position. Someone has covered him with a blanket and placed a plate of food and water next to him but they look untouched.
"He eat anything?"
Amir answers quickly. "No, he said he would join us in a minute and then…" he gestures needlessly to the practically comatose man.
McG grimaces.
Normally their leader would be settling in at his desk, working on after mission paperwork, and pretending not to be laughing at his team's post mission antics. He claims it's important to get the reports over with when its fresh on his mind. Jaz figures he uses it as an excuse to get out of putting away the equipment. It was a well tread argument between the two of them that usually ended in good natured ribbing and a mysterious smile from Top.
It's even more telling that the man doesn't so much as stir when he holds his finger to his neck and checks his pulse. He inflates and deflates the blood pressure cuff without so much as a twitch. He even gets as far as inserting the IV needle before the prick finally causes Adam to start and his eyes to glance around suspiciously.
After a few seconds the sleepy man's eyes finally settle on the tubing that the medic is taping down to his arm and he licks his lips about to speak.
"Don't say you're fine" McG forestalls the inevitable protest. "Trust me, when you don't have a terrible hangover tomorrow... you will thank me for this."
Dalton gives him a tired smile and tries to roll his eyes. The effect is partially lost because his lids are already closing. WIthin seconds the man is back asleep.
McG straightens up with a smirk.
McG 2 : Dalton 0
Maybe he should drain some blood from the man more often. Dalton makes for a much more cooperative patient when he doesn't have the energy to fight.
All jokes aside the man would be okay. With the extra fluids and nutrients he would get overnight from the IV and lots of rest his body would eventually replenish the blood cells it was so dearly missing right now.
He turned back towards the table, feeling his stomach grumble at the smell of whatever the team had made.
"Please tell me Jaz didn't cook!"
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Oops that was longer than expected. On to episode 3. I don't think there was any obvious need for medic McG in Mexico so I guess we will just have to get creative ;)