A little bit of a different role for McG in this chapter...

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When they return from Paris things are looking up.

Nobody got hurt on the mission so that automatically makes it a win in his book. Plus they managed to prevent a terrorist attack. So that was pretty good as well.

The icing on the cake comes the next morning when he stumbles on the tail end of Amir and Jaz having a heart to heart in the kitchen. He only catches the last bit of their conversation but it's clear that they have aired some of their issues out and found a way forward after their fiery french blow up.

From what he and Preach had heard over the coms there had been some testy moments in the streets of Paris where their long standing issues and insecurities had came to a head. He loved Jaz like a sister, and she couldn't do much wrong in his book, but even he wasn't the biggest supporter of how she had handled the arrival of their new teammate. He understood where it came from, but it was definitely time for it to be done, especially if it kept bleeding into their missions.

It was all easy smiles over breakfast. Jaz seemed more at peace than he had seen her in a while and it felt like old times around the table.

Amir was initially happy and relaxed as well, proudly sharing his breakfast creation and laughing with the team. But over the next couple days McG began to suspect that something was off with their newest team member. It was hard to be sure because it was nothing big at first. Just small moments where the man seemed more restless or agitated than he normally might have been. Or a few times where he caught him zoned out and lost in his thoughts, slow to react to the conversation around him.

McG initially brushed it off as just fatigue after the mission. It wasn't hard to imagine that re-adopting his cover as Hamid Khedani was difficult and it had been additionally draining when combined with the fact that the mission had run on little intel and no preparation.

He just figured the man would bounce back from it in a few days.

But it's hard to turn off his medic brain, even between missions, and before long he is mentally documenting other concerning signs without even really trying. For example there is very little privacy in their life so it's not hard to notice that even a few nights later Amir still isn't sleeping well. That the former spy's sleep is more disturbed than normal and that the past few nights the man has just given up on it after a few hours or a few recurring nightmares and has headed out of his bedroom in the early hours of the morning.

By night 4, McG has trouble going back to sleep after he hears Amir moving around. He lies in bed feeling some tension in his stomach as the worry for his teammate starts to grow.

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Amir knows he should feel on top of the world after their last mission. There are few people in the world that could have pulled off what he just did. Slipping back into his cover with no notice, infiltrating a terrorist cell within a few hours and stopping a terrorist attack that had been in the works for probably years at that point.

But that's exactly the problem. That taste of his old life, of the difference he could make, it was hard to let go of again. It was hard to accept that while he sat at base waiting for a new mission to come in, hundreds of Omars were out there, plotting and building, and that it wasn't his job to stop them anymore.

He was the tip of the spear now.

It wasn't his job to figure out what was brewing behind the scenes, it was just his job to sit and wait and go stop it when called upon. If he was called upon.

For a couple months that had been enough. He was enjoying his role with the team, hell he was even starting to feel part of the team. He had even made some progress with Jaz, but as he sat and waited after this last one, the reminder of his old life was so fresh it was hard to let go off. It had reminded him that all those cogs were constantly still turning out, that there were evil people out there who needed to be stopped before they blew up the next market or public bus. It was jarring. He felt restless and cooped up. Trapped and isolated on the base in a way he had never felt before.

When he arrived here at the base he had needed the break. He couldn't argue that one. Years of living in one cell after another, in one role after another had broken him down. Witnessing atrocity after atrocity and only being able to stop some of them had left him mess. He couldn't deny that as much as he wanted to. There had been no arguing with his superiors "suggestion" that he do something different for a while, not when psych had gotten involved. He had tried, but even he knew it had been half hearted and futile, that deep down he knew they were right as much as he didnt want to admit it.

So he had "accepted" the re-assignment. Just temporary….they said. They tried to sell it as an exciting opportunity to use your skill set elsewhere. He wasn't buying it and he also wasn't oblivious to the fact that no timelines were given. But maybe he was more desperate for a break than he realized because he had begrudgingly gone where he was told despite all that. He had shown up at the training courses and combat drills and eventually all the way across the world in Turkey to be thrown into into the shocking new world of being part of an omega team.

The first day in Incirlik, when he stood at the entrance of the base and looked around at all the military personel he had almost run for the hills. He didn't belong here.

He had been very tempted to say screw it and leave about a hundred times in the first day. The first time that he saw the equipment cages full of uniforms and guns that would mark them as military from miles away….The first time Dalton put the team through a drill and he had been out of formation and screwed it up…. The first time Jaz had scoffed at him and made it clear his presence wasn't welcome.

But the rest of his team, and even eventually Jaz, had slowly won him over. They weren't exactly what he expected, but they were exactly what he needed. Their constant presence, their support, their laughs and their accomplishments, it healed parts of him he hadn't known were broken. It made him feel strong and whole and part of something good again instead of just an unwilling contributor to something bad. It was like he was a completely different person here than the Amir who worked for the CIA, and if he was honest with himself he wasn't sure which one he like better. It was getting harder and harder to fathom ever going back.

That was until he had to do it.

When the call came in from Mina he had slipped that back into that previous persona so quickly it surprised himself. Without even conscious thought he was back to hard edges and blurred lines. Back to doing whatever was necessary to get the job done even if it meant causing harm or endangering a life. Before he even knew it he was halfway through the mission, running solo, following his own intuition and barely stopping to let the team in on what he was doing.

It was just like old times. He was beyond good at it. And it worked.

They saved hundreds of innocent people from senseless violence.

He, as Khedani, stopped yet another explosion that those animals would have used to make a point.

He was relieved when it was over, but he was also hungry. Fighting the urge to track down the rest of the cell. To see who had been funding Omar, who had trained him, what else was being planned. He wanted to chase the intel down the rabbit hole, to infiltrate deeper and deeper into what had been exposed. But that wasn't his role anymore.

Get in. Get the job done. Get out. That was how he rolled now… tip of the spear and all that.

Ever since then his mind has been in overdrive and it can't seem to turn it off. To let go. To stop thinking about what other trouble was brewing behind the scenes.

He keeps waking up in the middle of the night too late to stop the bombing. Or too late to learn about the next one. The chilling thought strikes him on one of those sleepless nights that they would never have known about this one if it hadn't been for Mina. They would never have stopped it. And that next time there might not be a Mina.

But there could be a Khedani.

It makes him question his purpose here. As much as he enjoys being part of the Omega team, maybe he is needed elsewhere. Maybe he could make a bigger difference back undercover. Maybe he should have fought harder against the re-assignment. Maybe he should request to go back.

There is also a nasty voice in the back of his head that chides him for being too weak in the first place. That maybe if he had done his job better, or dealt with the events that occured differently, that they wouldn't have thought it necessary to move him. If he had just been stronger things might have been different.

Before long his brain has gone full circle, from Mina to his sister and that's when he starts working harder to stay busy. Finding activities to do, cooking, cleaning, extra training, whatever he can do to stay distracted. He thinks that maybe if the throws himself full boar into this life it will keep his brain occupied and off the life he left behind. He wants to keep it as far away as possible from its current obsession with dissecting previous choices because he knows there are some choices he made that can never be undone and will never be anything but wrong no matter how you look at them.

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McG doesn't like to overreact.

It's one of his main rules as a medic. He learned early on that if he made a big deal of things it makes it less likely that his teammates will actually let him know about an injury. So he always tries to downplay things as much as possible. To assure them that it's no big deal, that he can fix it, and that it won't keep them out of commission long.

That's why he leaves Amir alone for almost two weeks. He wants to get involved after week one but he grits his teeth and lets it go on a little longer.

But as the days pass he grows more and more concerned. He tracks the fact that Amir never seems to sit still. That his teammate's days are just a blur of activity, whether it is getting up early to cook them all breakfast, heading out to spend extra time at the gun range with Jaz, going on long runs with Preach, hitting the gym with Top or tagging along with him to boxing.

Amir is everywhere and doing everything and as it goes on he begins to see the toll it is taking on his teammate. There are bags under his eyes and fatigue in his movements, his skin is pale and his shoulders tight, it all shouts that their teammate is running himself ragged.

He isnt the only one who notices either. He catches Dalton and Preach exchanging a few concerned glances as the days go on. When they look to him he nods in agreement and continues to study his teammate with concern. Even Jaz seems to notice when Amir is a little less easy going that normal as the fatigue catches up to him and he snipes back at their jokes on a few occasions a little more sharply than they are used too. Amir is oblivious to the scrutiny he is getting from everyone and that, perhaps, is the most telling.

McG isn't a mind reader. He doesn't know what exactly it is about the last mission that has set Amir off. Maybe it wasn't even the last mission but a cumulative build up of something.

He talks to Top and the man is fairly closed lip about it. If he knows what is going on in Amir's head he doesn't share with the class. But he does share McG's concerns and has said he is keeping a close eye on it and is trying to help the man work through it. McG trusts him but he also isn't satisfied with that answer. Maybe with anyone else it would be ok to let them work through it on their own time, to let it play out a little longer. But Amir is still recovering from radiation poisoning. His immune system has had to reboot and is still fragile. Additional stress and strain is the last thing the man's body needs to be dealing with right now so this whole not sleeping enough/ overtraining thing is going to stop now if he has anything to say about it.

Amir has always gotten up early, well before the rest of the team. On the rare mornings where McG managed to get up and get moving early enough he would find his teammate enjoying a nice cup of tea in the crisp morning air, waiting for the call to prayer. He can't remember the last time Amir has done that. Now his mornings take on a frantic pace just like the rest of his day. They are filled with workouts and elaborate 3 course meal preparation all before the sun has fully even risen.

So McG sets his alarm and gets up at a stupidly early hour. It's worth it to see the brief flash of surprise on Amir's face when he comes outside a bit later and finds McG occupying his usual spot on top of the picnic table with 2 mugs of tea. The medic doesn't say anything, just holds the extra mug out in a clear invitation until the smaller man joins him and they sit in silence enjoying the peaceful morning time before the rest of the base is up and moving.

Amir doesn't say anything and McG lets that silence hang. He can feel the tension emanating off the man next to him as the former spy's brain analyzes the situation and anticipates what is coming next. He is on guard...expecting an attack. But McG is determined not to push, not to make this an attack, to let Amir come to him when he is ready. So instead he just lets himself relax and enjoy the quiet time, and slowly as the minutes pass in silence he feels Amir start to settle next to him when the man realizes the other shoe truly isn't about to drop. They sit there like that until the call to prayer breaks the silence and Amir puts down his empty mug next to McG with a soft "thank you" and heads off to prayers.

After three days of the same routine, Amir is the first one to blink.

"Do you have any siblings?"

McG is doubly taken a back. Both by Amir speaking, and with where he went with it.

"No, only child"

Sometimes in speaking with Amir, McG feels like he is sparring. The man is thoughtful and perceptive, he never says anything without a purpose. Right now for instance, McG can almost feel Amir circling him in the ring, scrutinizing, testing, stepping left to see if the other person will step right.

McG seems to pass Amir's assessment because the man jabs back, chuckling with a soft "figures"

"What is that supposed to mean" McG grouses back, lightheartedly, even as his brain is racing.

The medic is starting to feel like he stepped into this ring unprepared. Even though he has been waiting for this moment for several days it isn't playing out how he expected it to now that it has begun. Part of being a good boxer is knowing your opponent. Predicting what is to come. But he doesn't understand where this conversation is going and he feels vulnerable. He has no idea how Amir's current funk relates to this topic.

Sure enough the gut punch that comes next lands hard. Its unexpected and it sinks in without any defence.

Amir starts telling McG about his sister. About what happened and the choices he made as a stupid kid.

It leaves him winded. As surely as if he had actually taken a swinging fist to the sternum.

McG is glad that Amir doesn't seem to expect a response right away. That now that he has momentum he continues to talk about about why he left the CIA and how he has been feeling since the Paris mission. He is content just to let the conflicted man unload for a while, listening sympathetically to how he feels pulled in two directions, between this new life he likes and his sense of duty to his old one. He fights the urge to tap out and go find Preach or Dalton or someone better equipped to deal with this kind of stuff.

But somewhere throughout it he finally manages to catch his breath and sort his thoughts. He picks himself back up off the ropes and gets his feet moving again. He comes up with a plan to counter.

"Do you remember your first mission with us?"

It's now Amir's turn to look surprised, clearly confused at this direction change.

"Sure… Baghdadi"

"Yah, Baghdadi….. But I'm talking about Kimberly Wells."

McG pauses, trying to figure out how to verbalize the distinction. It's the same mission but he he views it completely different.

"Eliminating Baghdadi was great, don't get me wrong, it probably saved hundreds of people from future atrocities that he could have perpetuated. But in my opinion saving Kimberly Wells was more important. I know it may not have been to the higher ups in DC, that they weighed her life as less than that of killing Baghdadi. But we didn't. We saved her. We made the terrorists watching all over the world, realize that we still care about one life. That to us no life is expendable and that we will fight tooth and nail and will never let them get away with that shit. I don't think they expected us to come after her. I don't think her husband expected to ever see her alive again. I think all the people watching the news were expecting to see a story about her death in a few days. If it wasn't for a team like ours they would have been right. But instead we sent a message that day and I think that message was pretty damn important. A lot more important in my mind than blowing up some terrorist that anyone with a control panel and a drone could have done eventually. What we did that day, and on so many other missions after that, we couldn't have done with out you, Without the skills you have. If you weren't there that day, Kimberly Wells died, before we could get Akhmoodi to tell us where she was. And the bad guys won again. "

He sits for a second, tilting his head to the sun. Searching for the right words.

"I'm no great philosopher obviously. Nor am I a great tactician or even a mathematician. I can't do the exact calculations on whether the lives you might save undercover there are greater than or less than the lives like Cassie Connors, and the hostages in the Nigerian mall, or those saved by the bug on Boothe or the information Ivan Sokalov provides. Nor do I know what exactly is the best way to fight against all the different evils at work in the world. So I think at some point we just have to accept that we are making a difference, and that however we choose to fight, is better than not fighting at all….and hope that it's enough."

He waits a bit, letting his words penetrate for a minute, and then like any good boxer he finds the right moment to deliver the KO punch.

"And most importantly, I think that your sister would have wanted to you to have a life. That she wouldn't have wanted to you waste your life away in pursuit of something that while noble, in the end will never bring her back."

He stands and squeezes Amir shoulder, trying to softening the blow with a compassionate smile…"I think, above all else, that she would have wanted you to be happy. That she would give you permission to live your life, and that however you choose to live it she would be proud of you."

He holds his grip on the man for a second, trying to lend physical support. He waits until his teammate's shoulders stop shaking under his hand and until the few rebel tears that escaped have dried or been wiped away, and then he leaves the man alone with his thoughts. He settles in the kitchen to start breakfast and as he works he peeks through the window occasionally and sees that Amir is still sitting where he left him, immobile on the picnic table, staring at the sun rising in the east, long after the call to prayer has sounded.

When Amir finally comes into breakfast later he looks if possible more drained and tired. But there is also something different about him. He is more still, more settled, than McG has seen him in a while. It gives him hope that maybe Amir just needed that cathartic release, that maybe he needed to tell someone about the inner battle his brain was warring over the last couple weeks so that he wasn't fighting it alone.

In the early afternoon the man crashes, fast asleep on the couch in the middle of a boring monthly briefing on the state of the european union. Dalton raises an eyebrow but says nothing, continuing the briefing and letting the man sleep. They all know he needs it.

Their invisible man slowly comes back to himself and his regular routines. McG happily does too, gratefully turning off the alarm and sleeping later in the mornings. Although every once and a while he sets one early and gets up to join Amir for an early morning tea. There is always an extra mug waiting for him when he comes outside although he can't for the life of him figure out how Amir knows he is coming that particular morning, he never asks. He is content to let the spy keep some secrets to himself.