Author's Note: Thanks for your patience, e'erybody. Life got crazy for a bit, so again, thanks for your patience. I hope it was worth the wait. :)
Chapter Three
"Top? Top, you there?" McG questioned franticly. "Shit. Top?"
The rest of the team stared at him, hoping he'd say it was normal. That there was nothing to be worried about. But he didn't.
He looked panicked.
"McG?" Jaz pressed, wondering what to think.
The medic shook his head, clenching his jaw. "If he's not talking, I don't know if he's okay, if he's passed out, or . . . or if he's—"
"Don't say it," Amir said quickly. Firmly.
No one said a word for several minutes, hoping to ignore the awful possibility.
They couldn't get him back only to lose him again.
"Can't this plane go any faster?" Jaz sighed, leaning forward with a frown as she tried snuffing out the angry fear in her chest.
"I think they're aware of the urgency," Amir answered, breathing deeply. She looked at him. She could see the frustration in the lines of his face, the forced patience in his guise. He wasn't the only one. Waiting was hard, and listening to the silence on the other end of their comm line was harder.
McG moved anxiously in his seat, looking out the window. "Top?" he tried again. "Top? You read me?"
Across the plane, Jaz bit at her thumb nail, watching the medic carefully. She'd told Adam to hold on, and in all the time she'd known him, he'd never let her down. So he was going to be fine, right? He'd hold on for them.
He had to.
He just had to.
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Patricia strode back into the command center with purpose, trying to tamp down the worry behind her well-practiced mask of professionalism and control. She had to lead. People looked to her for guidance. For strength. But that didn't mean that, underneath the intimidation and determination, she wasn't terrified of what could happen.
It didn't mean she didn't care. About Adam.
Her mind drifted back to her visit to the prison, what Adam had said to her afterward in that desert. About her son.
"He was a good man. A good soldier."
Adam didn't realize the same words applied to him—in the present. It shouldn't be his memorial too.
Her eyes stung, and she blinked the pain away before anyone could see.
"Anything?" she asked, tone strong and commanding.
Noah turned to look at her, his hand in a bag of pork rinds. "No, nothing yet." His words were charged with emotion: fear, hope, concern. And yet, Noah managed to push them behind his own firm brand of professionalism. Not quite as strong as Patricia's, but impressive all the same.
And really, hope wasn't lost yet.
Noah put the bag of rinds down. "The team has nearly landed. Once they get in the chopper, it'll be another thirty minutes."
The deputy director sighed, turning away from Noah and Hannah. Thirty minutes seemed like an eternity. She wouldn't say she'd known Adam for a long time, but this job . . . this job built lifelong bonds in a matter of hours. Of days. She trusted him to get the objective done. He trusted her to keep him out of unnecessary danger.
And she took that job seriously.
"Top? You there? Come on, Top."
Patricia's heart ached at the sound of McG's voice. Adam's team was used to fearing the worst, even when they wanted to hope for the best. And she knew exactly what was going through their heads. Because she was the same.
She turned back to her team, seating herself at her desk. "Well, there's nothing we can do now. We'll just have to wait."
Easier said than done.
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"—Top. You better not be ignoring me, you stubborn bastard."
Adam frowned, catching onto the edge of groggy consciousness. He moved a little, pulling a grunt from his throat, though he wasn't entirely sure which way was up or down. He tried to sort his thoughts, struggling to grapple onto anything useful. Where was he? When had he fallen asleep?
Why wasn't he with his team?
"Top?"
He let his thoughts swirl around for a minute, still attempting to stitch them together.
And then it hit him.
The mission. The gunshots. The bloody holes in his body.
His team was coming to get him. And he must've passed out.
Adam shifted uncomfortably on the root-weaved ground, gasping when a fresh wave of pain shot through his body.
"Top? You there?"
"Yeah." He was confused. McG sounded panicked, but he hadn't been out that long, right? Probably only a couple minutes. "Jus' restin' my eyes."
"An hour is not 'just resting my eyes,'" McG scolded, sounding both joyfully relieved and woefully worn out. "You scared the shit out of us."
An hour? His brow furrowed. Then why did he feel more exhausted than when he'd passed out?
"S'rry." Adam's eyes fluttered as he stared up at the blue sky again. "'M jus' really tired."
"We know, Top. Just gotta stay awake a little longer, okay?"
"You have to see McG's ugly mug before you can sleep again," Jaz piped in, acting casual. But even half-buried under a layer of fog, Adam knew just how anxious she must've been. He just knew. He'd seen it before.
Still, Adam let out a soft snort of laughter anyway. To tell her everything was fine. That he was fine.
"Ha ha. Very funny," McG countered.
"We're almost there, Adam. Fifteen minutes out," said Preach, a small smile in his voice. Adam knew that tone. The strong tone of relief.
Adam just had to keep it together for fifteen more minutes. He could do that. Possibly.
"Dalton, if you can, you need to move out of the brush so your team can find you," Hannah instructed quietly. "Just . . . be careful."
It took a minute for her request to sink in. If possible, his mind was even hazier than before, and even the simplest words seemed difficult to understand. Her words finally registered, and Adam could feel the slightest tremble in his limbs at the prospect. Moving even an inch right now was an amazing feat, and staying still was the only way to calm his spinning vision and keep his pain at bay. On top of that, breathing was a lot more taxing than usual, and even a little exertion would steal what little oxygen he could manage.
But he had to do it. For his team. He'd do it for his team.
This was already so hard on them, and he wasn't going to make it harder. So moving it was.
"I'll do what I can," he croaked, feeling incredibly frail. It was an odd feeling. He was so used to being strong and capable, even in tough situations. But he'd lost control, and he could only do his best.
"Don't overdo it, Top," McG urged softly.
Adam didn't say anything, instead focusing on pulling all his remaining strength together for one last task. It wasn't time to rest. He took a few deep breaths in preparation, eyes to the blue above.
Drawing on nearly empty reserves, he forced himself with a groan to his uninjured side. More weight pressed on his wounded leg, and he whimpered against the ratcheting pain. It made it harder to focus, and his head was spinning again. Finding a renewed determination, he slowly crawled on his side, relying on an elbow and the toes of his injured leg. His thigh ground against the forest floor with every inch, clawing new agony out of his wound. He couldn't fight back the harsh moans of pain as he moved, almost relying on the vocal release to stay focused and sane.
It felt like the hurt and the weariness was pressing on him from all sides, and his lungs ached as he struggled more and more to pull in enough oxygen.
He tried panting through the agony and exhaustion, not wanting to let his team down. Through the haze and hurt, he dragged himself out of the bushes, continuing to make small sounds of pain as he went. He was wheezing now, and black spots assaulted his vision. Every limb was shaking with the effort, and for a moment, he wasn't sure he was going to live after this.
It felt as if he was breaking through the bottom of the barrel and drawing from reserves he didn't even have. His elbow dug into the earth, bravely pulling all his bodyweight toward it. Adam felt strangely detached from his quickly weakening muscles, but the pain was still there.
Even so, he wasn't going to let them down. He had to do this.
For them.
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The team listened with their hearts in their throats. The rough wheezing on the other end was already hard to listen to, and the punctuations of pained grunts and whimpers made it even worse. They could easily imagine him weakly pulling himself into the open terrain, overworking himself in the process.
They hated it.
But they were down to only a few minutes, then they'd be there. To help. To bring him to safety.
"Remember what McG said, Top. Don't over do it," Jaz reiterated, not sure she could listen to Adam's struggle much longer. The wheezes came faster and more desperate, and she fearfully wondered how much more he could take.
There was a slight shuffle over the comms, and it sounded as though Adam had stopped. But that didn't give them any peace. He was still panting like he'd just run a marathon.
McG looked uneasy, eyes trailing over the trees beneath them. "Just breathe. You've done enough. Just breathe. We'll find you."
"Soun's . . . Soun's good," Adam huffed, gasping for air. The team looked at each other, all four pairs of eyes ablaze with determination. They were going to find him. It was the only thing that mattered now.
They weren't going to leave their team leader out there. Alone.
Not any longer.
Before the chopper had even touched the ground, they were jumping out and on the move. According to Hannah and Noah, the area was clear, so they could keep their focus on the only thing that mattered: Adam.
The four of them trotted out into the trees, backtracking their steps from the night before as they guessed where Adam might've fallen.
"Top?" Amir called, dark eyes fervently scanning the terrain. The other three joined in, calling for Adam as they moved along. They were so close, and yet they still felt impossibly far from him. Other than soft chirps from native birds, it was relatively quiet. There weren't any visible signs of where Adam could be, and every passing minute brought more anxiety and frustration.
He was out here somewhere, short of blood and fighting for air. For his life.
Adam was depending on them, and every second mattered.
After a couple minutes, they were desperate, sharp eyes fervently scanning the landscape.
What if they didn't find him in time?
The four of them carefully but quickly moved over the terrain, their blood pumping in uneasy fear. Suddenly, Preach stopped, holding up his hand to silence the team. They paused, slowing their breathing as they listened intently. At first there was nothing. And then it was there.
Raspy panting from nearby. Outside of the comm line.
Adam.
They'd found him.
McG rushed forward first, heading toward the noise. "Shit." He dropped out of sight, the team quickly following behind to catch up.
And despite everything, they still weren't prepared for what they saw.
McG was kneeled next to their CO, hands anxiously checking Adam's injuries. Adam's eyes were closed as he panted wearily. His skin had taken on an almost gray pallor, the skin around his eyes dark and sickly. There were smears of crimson everywhere. On his shirt, his pants, a cargo pouch . . . some even got on his face, in his hair. One hand was bloodier than the other, some of the red dried and crusted, reminding them just how long he'd been left in these woods.
And the very thought made them feel sick.
He'd been there, alone, bleeding. With no help.
Amir looked at Adam's fingers. At how they trembled feebly, like a plea for rest. Then all he could think about was how difficult Adam's trek out of the brush must've been. How he probably pushed his body past its limits just to make himself more visible.
When it had been sound that led them to him.
"How is he?" asked Jaz, her hands clenched into fists. Her stomach ached as she stared at Adam's nearly colorless face. She heard quiet cursing on her comm, possibly from Hannah. She didn't know. Didn't care right now. She realized DC was seeing Adam for the first time too, but that didn't matter.
She was too focused on how he was alive.
But would he survive?
"Not good," McG muttered urgently. "He needs blood." He looked to Jaz. "And you're a match." She nodded. They'd known this from the beginning. McG always kept tabs on things like this.
"Can we get him to the chopper first?" Amir inquired, worried eyes sweeping over the team leader and the surrounding trees.
McG sighed. "If the area's still clear, I wouldn't wait." He pulled at blood-spotted gauze on Adam's leg, checking underneath the white. Adam gasped with the movement, gritting his teeth as McG pushed a little at the surrounding flesh to get a better look. He pushed a little harder, and then Adam's breathing took a turn, slowing immediately. The pinches in his face fell away. The trembling in his hands faded.
"Top?" coaxed McG, one hand softly squeezing the man's arm. A look of alarm passed over his face as he swiftly pressed fingers to Adam's neck. The medic let out a weary breath of relief. "Looks like he passed out."
"Area's still clear," Hannah reported, her voice steady and sure.
"Well let's get this blood transfusion started," Jaz coaxed, already working to remove her jacket. "Never seen a person so colorless." She wanted to look away but couldn't bring herself to. To her, it felt like righteous punishment for leaving him behind to suffer.
Even as she looked on, Jaz tried not to focus on just how lifeless Adam looked. Then her eyes caught on his bloodied hand. The slack, pale fingers caked in red.
If she'd had breakfast, she would've lost it.
Startled, she looked away, eyes meeting Amir's. She briefly wondered if hers looked that vulnerable.
They broke eye contact without saying a word.
This felt wrong. Adam was the one who watched over them. He was the support. He was the one that made sure no one was left behind, whether it was one of the team or an American doctor taken hostage.
He was the one that volunteered as a blood donor for an injured agent on the run.
This time, he was the one that needed help, and he'd been left behind. No one was there to watch over him.
It felt wrong. Absolutely wrong.
And the way McG moved with precision and urgency spoke volumes. Jaz wondered just how close they were to losing Adam completely. For the last time.
McG gently moved Adam to his back, the team leader like a ragdoll in the medic's hands. It was unnerving to see. In the bright sunlight, small scratches stood out starkly against the pale skin of Adam's face, making him look even paler.
As McG went to work preparing the blood transfusion, Amir found himself focusing on the tiny, red scratches marring Adam's face. They were so small, and yet they held a lot of weight. The team hadn't even had his back for something as trivial as a shallow scratch.
They weren't there.
And they should've been.
Amir dropped his gaze to the ground before looking up at the rest. McG was expertly inserting a needle into Jaz's arm, moving with a focused exactness. Jaz said nothing, simple holding her arm out as she waited.
None of them could believe this was happening. Only ten hours ago, they'd thought Adam was dead. Now they had him—alive—but he was teetering on the edge between life and death.
They couldn't decide if this was lucky or incredibly cruel.
McG inserted a needle into Adam's arm, and then the blood was flowing.
Jaz looked down at Adam, careful not to move her arm. All she had to give was some blood and maybe a small prayer. But it didn't feel like enough. She knew why all this had happened. He'd drawn their pursuers to himself, to keep the rest of the team out of danger. She'd seen it. She knew exactly what he was doing. And it'd worked. But not without sacrifice.
And that hurt the most. Knowing this was all their fault. Her fault. Because he did it for them.
Even if he made it out of this and recovered completely, she knew he'd do it again. And again. And again.
With every risk, he'd volunteer to take it. For Preach's children. For Amir's family. For McG's mom. Adam would take it every time to keep every one of them alive for another mission. For another day.
And how could Jaz let him after all this?
He looked so frail. So unlike himself. Gray and worn down, he looked like he could be broken by a light breeze. It pained her to think about how much it had taken him to crawl out of his hiding place. Normally, Adam could manage feats a hundred times more difficult.
But normally, he wouldn't be left behind to steadily bleed out in unfamiliar woods.
She wasn't sure what was worse: believing he was dead or knowing they'd abandoned him to nearly die.
When she was captured, Adam didn't abandon her. Even when he was told to, he was constantly thinking of a way around it. And he found it. He went back for her. They all went back for her.
She should've done the same for him. Should've found a way to go back for him, even when protocol instructed her to leave him behind.
Jaz felt ashamed.
She watched McG carefully rebandage Adam's injuries, his movements gentle and reverent. Every patient was important to McG, but not every patient was Top. She understood that. And she appreciated his extra care.
"How's Dalton?" Patricia inquired. Jaz faintly wondered if the deputy director felt guilty herself. Or if she was just sorry that things had turned out this way.
"Got him on a transfusion," McG answered, continuing to work. "Should be enough until we can get him some real medical attention. Once we're done here, we'll head back to the chopper."
"I'll have teams on standby when you land. Then once he's stable enough, we'll transport him back to base."
McG nodded. "Understood."
At the sound of a soft groan, Jaz quickly turned to look at Adam, surprised to find his eyes open. He seemed to be having a hard time collecting his thoughts. Or being alert.
Two skills that Adam regularly excelled at.
McG was at his side in an instant, one hand taking Adam's spare one. The team leader's fingers could barely manage to tighten around McG's, and Jaz hated the sight of it.
"You're okay, Top. You're fine. We've gotchya," McG muttered, looking Adam directly in the eyes. "Don't move too much, okay? We've got a transfusion needle in your arm."
Adam's head lolled toward Jaz to see who was on the other end of the line, his expression almost slack.
"Hey, Top," she greeted, attempting a smile even though she felt like curling up in a ball to deal with all this. He was barely there, she could see it in his eyes. She knew the fight was still behind the dull blue; it explained why he was awake at all. It seemed like something he'd fixate on. Staying awake to be there. For them.
Again.
"Just giving you some juice before we head back to the chopper," she mumbled, forcing a wider smile. Adam blinked slowly, foggy blue staring into her dark eyes.
"Thanks, Jaz," he whispered, almost too quietly to hear. She could tell he was running on fumes, though still fighting to be present. Always fighting to be present.
"We're fine, Top. Just fine. Take a break for once; we'll handle everything." She settled a comforting hand on his shoulder, channeling her authenticity through the contact.
He seemed to relax at her words, closing his eyes for a moment while he focused on breathing. She knew him too well. Jaz had always had sharp eyes, and like the rest of them, reading other people was an essential part of her job. It was how she knew that Amir cared deeply but quietly—by serving breakfast, by keeping a silent vigil, by staying level-headed when it mattered.
So she knew Adam. Understood that his team's wellbeing outweighed even his own. But as long as he knew everything was okay, he could take a moment to breathe. To rest.
And as she traced the weary lines in his face, a quiet kind of panic latched onto her ribcage. He looked so spent. Thoughts clawed at her mind, screaming for her attention. What if there was no coming back from this?
His pallor wasn't improving, and he was impossibly still. And there was so much red. She couldn't escape it. The smears of blood read like a map, testifying of what Adam had to go through just to buy him—them—a little more time.
Her eyes fell to his left, uninjured thigh. She could see plain evidence of where he'd latched onto the fabric with everything he had—the wrinkled bloodstain left behind. Her gaze moved to his abdomen, trailing the frantic smears of crimson from when he struggled to stem the blood flow.
He'd gone through more than he'd ever tell them.
And the thought hit her more than ever before.
Even after all this . . .
What if he didn't make it after all?