Enjoy :)
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She is sitting on the picnic table out in the the courtyard when he finally finds her.
Wrapped in the navy blue comforter off her bed she looks comfortable and at peace. As if she just decided to stroll out and grab a seat to admire the beautiful pinks and purples the sun is painting across the sky as it peeks out from behind the distant mountains.
But McG's mom always used to chide him red sky in the morning, sailors take warning.
She put full faith in that old adage's ability to determine the weather or even sometimes the way the day would unfold, all based on the colours she saw in the horizon.
McG didn't actually need to look skyward for an indication of how this day was going to go.
Admittedly, maybe he was a bit more on edge than normal. A bit paranoid even.
He could readily admit that he and had not been able to settle back to a normal routine yet even though they had escaped Iran with Jaz and made it back to base several days ago.
That was probably why he was up now. Why he had somehow just known something wasn't right and why his brain was screaming at him in alarm as he approached this otherwise idyllic scene.
But something was wrong.
He knew it with complete certainty from the moment he woke up way too early this morning. He found himself instantly wide awake and hyperalert and there was no point arguing or trying to convince himself that he was just overreacting. He fully knew he was being ridiculous and yet he still gave in and got up to make the rounds and check on things.
That was when he found her bed empty and really started to panic.
As he approaches his stomach tightens further. What he sees only serves to reinforce that anxious feeling in his gut that has been pretty much a constant since he watched Jaz be dragged out of the hotel in the arms of the quds. Even now that they have her back it won't go away completely.
Maybe that is because the Jaz he knows doesn't get up at 5:00 in the morning to watch the sunrise.
Albeit she has appeared to be quite attached to the outdoors and the wide open sky since they broke her out of that van. Most of the 18 hour drive back from the border to base had involved her sitting silently and staring off into the distance. Regardless, of her new found appreciation for nature, or fresh air, or whatever the hell it was she was doing, he still isn't calmed by finding her here at this time in the morning.
What really concerns him is that she actually looks worse now than she did then. The bruises have deepened in colour, from paint speckling on her cheeks that you could almost ignore because it blended in with her natural freckles... to full defined bruises with multiple colours that rim her eyes and temples.
That was expected. Unfortunately.
Adding to the macabre tapestry, there are also dark bags under her eyes…. They too are also somewhat expected.
After being on guard and fighting for her life for more than 35 hours of captivity (who was counting right?), not to mention the actual mission before that, and the long journey back she was more than ready to crash when they finally got her to a real bed. She has spent a good portion of the last couple days curled up on a bed or a couch per doctor's orders. He hasn't actually even had to try that hard to make it happen. Concussion symptoms and exhaustion had easily won out over her stubbornness.
Unfortunately her rest has not been as peaceful and recuperative as one would've hoped. Her brain had other ideas. And escaping trauma wasn't as easy as an 18 drive, an international border, or saying you are fine a bunch of times. Nightmares have been doing a good job of disrupting her much needed rest. He knows they have been waking her frequently, as much as she pretends they aren't. They have all heard the cries but when they take turns going to check on her they always find her pretending to be asleep. Refusing to admit that she wasn't alright and evidently determined to fight the battle between exhaustion and nightmares on her own as she tried to sleep away the headaches and the bone weary fatigue.
The part he really didn't like was the sweat he sees collecting on her forehead and the flushed cheeks over pale skin. It was cold in the morning air and there was no reason for her to look like that. As he nears the bench he can see she is swaying slightly and it takes the normally perceptive ninja far too long to react to his approach. Her eyes finally turn and sweep over the intruder just before he takes a seat beside her, they are dull and glassy and he swears under his breath.
It takes every ounce of patience and self control he has not to react. Not to freak out and jump straight into medic mode and take control of the situation. She doesn't need that right now, so he forces himself to sit for a few minutes, to take it slow.
But when she shivers against him, he can't resist and he gently reaches out and lets the back of his hand sit against her forehead.
Its hot. Way too hot.
"You gonna make me say it?"
She sighs audibly
"No,... I feel like shit"
Her uncharacteristic admission catches him off guard and its more concerning than all of his other observations combined.
"We need to get you checked out at base hospital. Something isn't right. Could be just a nasty infection causing the fever. We can get you some stronger antibiotics and get ahead of it"
He's careful to make it sound casual, just a quick in and out maybe. Even though he suspects it won't be.
But he isn't fooling anyone. When she looks at him with slightly unfocused eyes, the emotions in them are clear as day and it threatens to sink him.
Those damn eyes, they have a hard time saying no to them right now and she knows it.
The medics who had met them when they finally arrived back at base had been insistent that she needed to stay overnight at least for observation. Jaz had vehemently disagreed with their assessment, the first sign of life they had really seen from her since they pulled her from the van. Until then she had been eerily quiet and had stared off into space with an haunted look that had scared the shit out of him. That spark of fight had been so welcome and so reassuring that he had wavered slightly even though he knew the medics were right.
Jaz had sensed weakness, knew that the battle could be won.
She had turned those eyes on Top next and he had folded like laundry. A fact Preach had been sure to point out later, wisely waiting to do so until after they all had a good sleep and were in better spirits.
They hadn't been able to refuse her anything that day, just so glad to have her back with them. In one piece. Alive. Safe.
She could have asked for the moon and he was pretty sure Adam would have found a rocket ship and a few astronauts and convinced them to go get it.
So avoiding a trip to the hospital… yah she had easily managed that. Once she had Adam on her side McG knew it was a lost cause. He didn't even bother trying to argue.
Jaz settles her head on his shoulder drawing his attention back to the present. He lets her rest there for a second, waiting for her to process his words.
Eventually he feels her nod slightly, head moving against his shoulder, agreeing with his assessment, or at least resigning herself to it. He is caught off guard when she offers more information.
Her voice is so tiny and muffled into his shirt and he almost misses it.
"There was some blood last night"
He stiffens, forcing himself to breathe in and out and count backwards in his head until he is sure he can respond calmly. Trying not to think about the fact that she went to sleep afterwards. That if it had been bad she might not have woken up this morning. But she had. What was done was done. There was no use scolding her about that decision, at least not right now.
"Where? How much?"
She doesn't answer for a second, and his hard won patience wears thin, exasperation and worry sharpening his tone despite his best efforts.
"Jaaaaazzz"
"Just a little….when I went to the bathroom"
Kidneys.
Well that settled it. If there was any doubt about forcing her to go to the hospital before it's gone.
They need some scans to see the extent of that internal bleeding. And regardless she needs stronger antibiotics for the infection that has clearly taken hold. He is kicking himself for not being a hardass about it two days ago. For not insisting she get some scans and xrays, and IV antibiotics. But those damn puppy dog eyes. None of them had had the heart to force her to do anything and so he had given in and treated her himself after the medics left. He had cleaned her wounds, raging internally at the guy who had inflicted them. That animal had deserved worse than a double tap to the head, if only there had been more time. He gave himself a headache from gritting his and clenching his jaw so as not to say anything while he worked on her. She didn't need to carry his baggage too.
If he was honest the infection wasn't really surprising. Even with him disinfecting her cuts on the truck ride and stitching them when they got back, they had still had gone way too long without proper treatment, and that was saying nothing about what kind the sanitation level of the actual tools that had been used. He had her on oral antibiotics but was not entirely surprised that it hadn't been enough. It would have been a miracle if she hadn't had some sort of minor infection at some point in her recovery. Unfortunately they seemed to have skipped past the minor infection phase and gone straight to major. If nothing else he knows it because of her lack of protesting. Her resistance is half hearted and feels almost for show than anything which tells him she is really feeling like crap.
He is not above capitalizing on that though so he makes a move before she can change her mind or build up the energy to fight it. He gently rises up off the table, giving her a second to acclimatize and hold herself steady without his large frame to lean on, before holding out a hand expectantly.
She straightens off the table with a grimace, ignoring his offer of help in favour of keeping one arm wrapped tightly around her bruised ribs and the other securing the blanket on her shoulders. He watches her move, slower and with much less grace than normal, evidently feeling the deep bruises and sore muscles to a greater extent now a few days later. But they get to their destination eventually and he doesn't give her the option of help this time. Sweeping her up and bundling her into the passenger seat of the jeep, blankets and all. He ignores the glare it gets him, and cheerily tells her to stay put before shutting the door and heading back into the hut to grab a few items.
He trusts her not to bolt. Maybe.
If nothing else he knows she won't get far, as morbid as that is.
On his way back out he pops his head into Dalton's room to let the man know what is happening. At the first hint that something is wrong the man is wide awake and throwing on clothes, clearly planning on accompanying them. But McG's next words about going alone catch him up short, one leg into his pants, freezing and hopping in place to catch his balance.
It would be comical under different circumstances, but McG understands the flood of panic coursing through the man all too well. He sees all the emotions fleet across Top's face that their their leader has tried to suppress over the last few days in order to be a calm and grounded support for Jaz. Just between them, in the privacy of his own room, their leader doesn't fight that hard to school them like he normally would.
To have Jaz back feels too good to be true, like the other shoe should be dropping, so he gets how now it feels like it is and why Dalton is going straight to the worst conclusion.
He hurries to reassure Adam but he's pretty sure most of it falls on deaf ears. Eventually though something sinks through and he convinces Top to stay behind. It's probably his attempt at a rational argument that this is what's best for Jaz that she will be less stressed without everyone hovering that makes his case. But he can fully see what it costs Dalton.
How daunting the prospect of any sort of separation from his sniper…. from Jaz... is at this moment.
He leaves behind a promise of constant updates and assurances that he will take care of her. It isn't enough but it's something.
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The base hospital is quiet at this time of day. Even without McG pulling strings she is quickly seen by a doctor, who to his satisfaction, makes short work of examining her and ordering a set of scans and a round of heavy duty antibiotics. Within an hour they are headed to what will be her room to settle in and await the scans being prepped.
It's hard to miss the shudder when the nurse wheels her into her room for the night. One second Jaz is arguing that she doesn't need to be wheeled around like an invalid and the next she is silent. Frozen in her seat like a deer in the headlights facing oncoming traffic.
Except it's just an empty room.
He actually starts to grow concerned until he sees her take one halting breath and then another.
If the nurse notices she doesn't say anything. Continuing on into the room and transferring her suddenly quiet and compliant patient into her bed.
It doesn't take a genius to figure out why. The base hospital has put no effort into decorating or designing anything in the rooms. Instead they are practical and clean. The room is all crisp white sheets, and sterile white walls. As if that's not enough the floors are white, the curtains are white, even the damn bedpan is white. The entire room is stark, and basic and white… and apparently very triggering.
Jaz has been fairly closed off about what was done to her but they all had their suspicions about the type of torture method the Iranians had tried based on the white clothing she had been sporting when they got her back.
Being exposed to something similar, even in a healing environment is clearly taking its toll on her. The machines she is hooked up to betray her anxiety, registering the elevating heart rate and blood pressure for all to see. But even without those he clues into the way she is fidgeting the sheets in her fingers, eyes scanning the room rapidly for threats and throat swallowing uncomfortably, and knows she is far from comfortable with the situation.
McG can feel his blood pressure rising at the realization that he is basically revictimizing her by forcing her to be here to get the help she needs. It pisses him off that they can't protect her from this and once again he regrets killing her captor so quickly. At bare minimum he should have emptied the whole clip into his head. It wouldn't have fixed this but maybe he would feel marginally better about the situation.
Unfortunately there is not much he can do about the situation at this point. The damage is done and he can't erase the trauma as much as he would like to. God he would give anything to take it all back. Sadly all he can do is try to help her cope now so he makes conversation, aiming to distract her from whatever this is dredging up.
It's a struggle, he gets minimal one words responses and he is not really succeeding at all in getting her to disengage from her surroundings and her memories. There is a significant delay to her responses each time where she comes back from wherever her head has taken her back to.
Eventually he gives up on the one sided conversation. Instead he rises from his seat and taps her hip gently, wincing when she jumps at his touch
"Scooch over"
He waits while she slowly shifts over in the bed and then carefully lowers himself onto the space she has created. Trying to avoid bumping her bruises or tangling her lines all while carefully watching her reaction. Jaz normally isn't one for much physical contact. She keeps her barriers up and her tough persona firmly intact 99.9% of the time. But there have been a few times over the years where the hurt has been too big, the emotion too deep, and she has begrudgingly let her walls down and let one of them in to comfort her.
He remembers waking up at 2:30 in the morning the night after Elijah died to her looming by his bedside. Ghostly silent, she had just stood there with tears streaming down her face, seemingly unable to verbalize what she wanted, Hell, maybe she hadn't known herself what she needed, but he had figured it out. Lifting the blanket and making room for her and before he knew it he had a prickly sniper snuggled into his side for the rest of the night and the next several nights after that.
This bed is even narrower than his one at base and his large frame easily eats up more than half of it but Jaz doesn't seem to mind. She turns in slightly to him and lets him wrap his arm around her to draw her close his chest. He tucks his chin onto the top of her head and feels the tremors running through her body.
He waits for an eye roll or a deflecting joke, her way of regaining some control in the situation, but it never comes. Instead he feels one of her hands gather up a fist full of his shirt. Her fingers twist firmly into the fabric pulling tightly in towards her. Then for a few minutes she is still in his arms and he dares to hope that she might relax enough to get some rest. He peeks down, watching her eyes droop lower and lower. They blink heavily but each time she forces them open, fighting it and refusing to give in.
Of course she is.
It's Jaz.
Fighting is her response to pretty much anything. It's more natural to her than most things in life. Her mind is still on high alert and leery of her surroundings and the looming nightmares that have plagued her. Her body, in contrast, is completely against that plan and is exhausted and sick and more than ready to give in.
He supposes it ends a stalemate, because a nurse arrives to take her to radiology.
Their visitor does an admirable job at schooling her surprise when she finds more than just her patient in the bed. McG gives Jaz one last squeeze before he carefullys detangles himself and assists her out of the bed to the waiting wheelchair.
She practically leaps into the normally despised transportation device which speaks volumes to her desire to get out of this room, regardless of the method. And soon they are off to the radiology department.
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The scans confirm what he suspected. Kidney damage. Who ever worked her over knew what they were doing. The bruising patterns and scans of the underlying damage confirm that they had targeted her low back with their blows, specifically the spots over the barely protected kidneys that would be the most debilitating and painful.
Fuck them.
Watching over the technician's shoulder he is happy to see that the internal bleeding is minimal. More a result of severe bruising rather than any sort of laceration. It will be sore for a while and will need to be carefully monitored but it should clear up on its own within a few days.
It does unfortunately confirm that she is stuck here for at least a couple of nights. The antibiotics will need some time to run their course and the doctors will probably want follow up scans to monitor Jaz's kidney function and recovery. No amount of batted eyelashes or puppy dog eyes are going to get her anywhere on this one.
Realistically it's actually not too bad a prognosis, all things considered. But the treatment plan and the need for Jaz to spend several more days in that white sterile room is a problem.
A large one.
He knows exactly how receptive Jaz is to staying in the hospital on any given day… and after seeing that reaction in the room earlier they are beyond that. He is afraid at what the prospect of staying there will do to her right now. Forcing her to stay here in that state will do nothing to aid her recovery.
But leaving is not an option. They already tried that and here they were.
So if she is where she needs to be right now, he will just have to find a way to make it a little bit less of an ordeal for her.
There has to be an alternative….
A way to make that room a little less daunting her for to spend time in…
Finally an idea sparks and he smiles in satisfaction before slipping away quietly to see if he can find that nurse from earlier to chat with.
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He catches backup with Jaz as a different nurse is wheeling her back down the hallway towards the room.
Shockingly (insert sarcasm here), she is still complaining loudly about having to use it, even though she is hunched over and shivering in its seat. McG honestly doubts she could walk the distance if she actually were allowed to but he sure as hell isn't going to be the one to point that out to her. Weakened state or not, he would bet she can still pack a punch.
The trio turns the corner and pulls up to the doorway of her room and he has to work hard to contain his snicker.
It is better than he could have hoped for.
Jaz assesses the situation with a quick dismissive glance and then impatiently tells the nurse it's the wrong room. Some frustration starts to creep into her voice because the ninja looks near the end of her rope and thoroughly unimpressed with this detour.
He blames the fever for the fact that she doesn't immediately get it. Even after the nurse confirms that it is in fact her room for the night Jaz is still not buying it.
She is mid sentence, mid argument really, when it finally clicks.
The lightbulb moment happens and Jaz never finishes her previous train of thought, suddenly and completely speechless.
This time he can't contain his laughter.
The look on her face is everything… and it hits home in startling clarity for about the thousandth time that he almost lost that.
She is gaping at the room and gaping back at him, and then finally manages to form a few spluttering words "Mcg What … how… what did you do…?"
Jaz is rarely at a loss for words but this seems to have done it.
The base hospital has been piloting a pediatric outreach program for the last few months as a part of a goodwill initiative to foster positive relations between the nearby villages and the nations represented on base. On weekends local residents are encouraged to bring their sick children for medical care that they otherwise might not have access too, anywhere from simple vaccines to complex surgeries. The program had been well received and donations and support had poured in enabling the hospital to fully equip itself with the specific pediatric equipment necessary to save lives. The hospital had also been in the comfortable financial position to splurge on a few more "cosmetic" touches to make the kids feel at home, many of which are now gracing Jaz's room.
She glares at the pink sheets on the bed and then sputters when she is wheeled close enough to distinguish the unicorn print pattern that adorns them.
Jaz is not a pink person. Not at all. So this is beyond perfect.
She complains and mutters but eventually sinks into the sheets. Her eyes continue to sweep the room taking in some of the other decorative changes including the excessively large teddy bear in the corner and the TV set that has been set up and is currently half way through frozen. He watches her eyes light up slightly when they catch sight of the video game equipment stored beneath the TV set before she is momentarily distracted by the nurse reconnecting her IV. Then it is back to rolling her eyes when she notices the IV needle is hidden by a mickey mouse patch that goofily smiles back at her almost mockingly.
It's absolutely perfect.
She settles a bit deeper into the bed, relaxing into the pillow and letting McG pull the pink covers up without further complaint.
It's a complete 180 from earlier. Now the only sign of agitation is the occasional muttered comment that he catches about not liking fucking unicorns and how sexist the colour pink is. She is midway through sarcastically asking for a barbie doll to cuddle when she falls asleep. The fever and antibiotics and overall exhaustion literally catch up to her mid-word and she is out like a light.
Mission accomplished. For now anyways. He isn't naive enough to believe he won't have to literally sit on her at some point over the next couple days to get her to follow doctors orders once she starts to feel better.
The team wastes no time in taking the mickey out of her when they arrive to visit in the early evening. Amir and Preach leap at the chance to point out that it was probably just an honest mistake and that they thought she was a child. Or that maybe there is a height requirement for the equipment. Anyone under 5'4 automatically gets the pediatric size stuff.
Jaz flips them the bird before challenging them to a race on mario kart and then all jokes are forgotten and things get serious.
Speaking of serious, McG turns to the still silent man next to him. Top is studying the machines intently, while trying to pretend he isn't, and the medic takes pity on him.
"Her temperature is down slightly and she is responding well to the antibiotics".
Top gives a small smile in response. It a little forced, and a far cry from the boyish grin that they are accustomed to. The one that spreads up through his whole face and makes him look far younger than his years except for the crinkled lines around his eyes.
McG can't blame him though. Jaz may wear her scars visibly right now, but none of them are fully healed yet.
"It's just a small setback, she is going to be alright".
We all are.
That last part goes unsaid. But McG thinks it bears repeating even just to himself as they all struggle to find a new post Tehran normal. Sometimes the most difficult thing to do is accept that things won't ever be the same again. That there is a new normal you have to adapt to now whether you like it or not. It doesn't really matter if you preferred the way things used to be. They are what they are now. Their team has to move on. It's what they do, even if it is a bit more difficult this time around.
He turns and watches Jaz crow victoriously as she crosses the finish line miles ahead of the either of her competitors. Her smile is genuine and easy as she mocks their driving ability. There is no hint of stress or fear on that face right now making this all very worth it.
Not that the price to pay was actually all that high if he is honest with himself. He will more than enjoy getting to take Nurse Rebecca out for dinner later in the week once things settle down. So really this is a win all around and God knows you take those where you can get them in their line of work.