Author's Note: And another one! There's some Amir-centric parts in this one because I do adore him so, and as a reminder, I'm not a medical professional. You're all swell, and I'm sorry you all had to endure the cancellation of this wonderful, wonderful show with these wonderful, wonderful characters. Enjoy. :)
Chapter Four
Jaz was doing her best to power through all her fragile feelings. Her eyes were glued to Adam's, watching as he steadily faded away.
The blue eyes were open to sleepy slits, but his consciousness seemed to be elsewhere. It was like looking at a shell, with only a drop of Adam left in it.
"Top," McG muttered, patting Adam's face gently. The team leader didn't react. Like he'd checked out a while ago.
Amir cursed. Preach said nothing.
And Jaz simply tried to keep it together.
Staying calm, McG checked for a pulse. "Still alive. Pulse is still there." The medic's voice was taking on a hoarse quality, as if the stress was slowly stripping his vocal chords. He looked to Jaz. "Let's call the transfusion."
She wanted to protest but knew McG was right. She'd given quite a bit of blood, and in truth, Top needed professional medical attention as soon as he could get it.
He handed her some gauze before he pulled out the needle, and she quickly applied pressure while watching him do the same to Adam. Adam's eyes were starting to close more and more, finally allowing his body to catch up with his lack of awareness.
But the lifelessness behind the blue irises was unsettling. And it only doubled Jaz's fear.
"Preach, can you carry him?" McG asked, finished wrapping Adam's arm and already collecting his supplies to shove into his bag. Amir helped him, continually glancing back at Adam with worry.
Preach stepped forward, gingerly picking up the slack team leader and placing him over his broad shoulders. This all felt horribly hopeless, and for a fleeting moment, they wondered if this was all for nothing.
If not just to be there with Adam when he finally passed.
Without another word, the team moved toward the chopper, the other three surrounding Preach as he carried his precious cargo. It was silent. There wasn't a single chirp or rustle of leaves. It felt as if the world had paused in reverence.
And it unnerved Amir.
He was newer on the team, and admittedly, it had taken him some time to finally find a place among them. While the three other men had been kind and welcoming, Jaz had been cold and closed off, which sometimes contributed to the lingering awkwardness with his other teammates. But from the beginning, he knew Adam was on both their sides. And he was patient. He didn't force Jaz to make nice at first. He just helped Amir understand.
When Jaz had finally put down her defenses, Amir had an overwhelming feeling that Adam had something to do with it. But the team leader would never say. He wasn't the type to spill those kinds of details.
But what mattered the most was that, from the moment Amir took the job, Adam had accepted him. Trusted him. Considered him one of his own. Amir thought he'd have to prove himself to all of them.
In truth, he never had to prove himself to Adam.
And from the get-go, he was one of the lucky ones under Adam's protection. The team leader treated him like he did any other team member.
That meant the world to Amir.
In his short time on the team, he already had immense respect for the man at the helm.
And he couldn't imagine what it would mean if Adam was gone.
This job was dangerous. Survival was always slim, and casualties were a sadly expected part of the position. Commanding officers came and went, and there were so many honorable and good leaders to learn from.
But none of them were Top. And Amir wasn't sure the team could accept another CO like they had Adam. Jaz would have an especially hard time—he knew from experience.
He looked over at the sniper, seeing the cracks in her determination. In many ways, she was tougher than any of them. And he hated that she couldn't be as open about her more vulnerable emotions at times like these. He knew others had exploited those moments, just to prove that she wasn't as strong and capable as her male counterparts.
But damn it, she was. She shouldn't have to hold back the torrent of rage and pain and sorrow just to prove she was.
He breathed in deeply, trying to get a handle on his righteous anger. While he felt more like part of the team than ever, he still didn't feel comfortable enough to get close. He wished he could tell her she was safe with them. He wished she knew he was there—any of them were there—if she just wanted to vent and talk.
But all he knew how to do was make comforting meals and volunteer for menial tasks. Amir didn't know how to actually tell them that he . . . cared. With the wrongs he'd contributed to in his life, he didn't deserve the same care and comfort. But he wanted to be there for them.
He just wanted to take some of this pain away.
Amir looked to McG, seeing familiar pinches of urgency and terror. Later, the taller man will joke and hide it away, but that didn't change that it was still there. And Amir wished he could take some of it on for the medic. For Preach. For Jaz.
Adam meant a lot to him, but he hadn't known the team leader as long. He didn't have the same relationship as the rest of them did. His hurt couldn't compare to theirs. It couldn't.
As they approached the chopper, he trotted forward, climbing in to carefully pull Adam inside.
In all this, he'd do what he could to take on their burdens.
He could do that for Adam.
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Patricia watched the screen with her locket to her mouth. When she'd seen Adam for the first time through the body cams, it felt like her heart had plunged to the bottom of her stomach. Adam had a penchant for pushing through pain and injury. He didn't let either get in his way. When she'd later learned he'd been shot in the chestplate during their prison escape, she was admittedly surprised. That much force was sure to leave spectacular bruising and possibly a cracked rib or two, but he completed every task at his usual capacity and without complaint.
So if Adam was down and struggling to push onward, it was bad. And hell, if he didn't look absolutely awful. She tried not to think about it as she watched Amir pull his team leader into the chopper.
Patricia looked between Noah and Hannah, knowing how much they cared about the team as a whole. Like she did. Noah was shoving pork rinds in his mouth as he occasionally glanced away from the screen, and Hannah stared at Adam with an intensity even Patricia could admire. This was hard on all of them. And the worst part was that they'd done everything they could. There was nothing else they could do to increase Adam's chances.
They had to leave it up to fate.
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The thirty-minute ride in the chopper was quiet. The DC team didn't say a word, and the four of them didn't speak. All that remained was the loud hum of turning chopper blades.
McG had kept two fingers pressed to the inside of Adam's wrist, steadily monitoring his heart rate. They'd made it to their destination without incident, and they were slowly descending to the blacktop. A team of medical personnel waited below, ready to whisk Adam away as soon as the chopper touched the ground.
With one last long look at Adam's face, McG did a final bandage check before the medical team took over.
And once they landed, there was a flurry of humans and commands. People jumped aboard to move Adam's limp body to a gurney, and the team watched his limbs move loosely with every movement, reminding them just how little life was left in him.
It took everything they had to sit quietly and let others take over. They knew he was in good hands, but it was hard to let him out of their care.
Because what if he passed surrounded by strangers?
Still, all they could do was follow the medics and ride with them to the hospital. They were separated from Adam to ride in a different truck, left to grapple with the new panic of having him out of sight. After a quick report and a promise to keep Patricia updated, they switched off their comms and cams and let the quiet wash over them.
And once they made it to the hospital, they were left to wait in a plain, comfortless room. Just them and their thoughts.
Anxious, McG went in search of some coffee, and Preach left to pace through the hallways for a minute. Jaz parked herself in one of the uncomfortable chairs, folding her arms to hold in all her raw emotions.
Amir was left standing awkwardly on the edge of the waiting room, not sure what to do. He could be angry. He was good at that. His hands clenched into fists.
Then he looked at Jaz.
He could be angry later.
Unclenching his fists, he rubbed the palms of his hands against his thighs, slowly approaching her. He wanted to help, even if he wasn't comfortable with the direct approach. There was a good chance he'd fail spectacularly.
But this wasn't about him. He thought back to his earlier thoughts.
"How're you holding up?" he asked innocently, slowly taking a seat beside her. She looked at him, her eyes swirling with that tough wall he was all too familiar with.
"Fine," she answered curtly. He nodded, looking down at the floor.
"It's . . ." He stopped, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. "It's okay to not be fine."
Jaz rolled her eyes. "Save the sap, Amir."
"I'm serious," he replied, his voice just above a whisper. "You don't have to pretend to be strong if you just want to . . ." He wasn't sure how to finish the sentence, so he left it incomplete. "I'm just saying . . . you don't have to hold back with us. We already respect you. A lot. We won't think any less of you if you . . . I don't know . . . want to shed a tear or two."
Her eyes snapped to him, sharp as she carefully examined him. He held her gaze, his expression honest and soft.
He couldn't do much for them, but he wanted to do something. This was that something.
Jaz looked to the ceiling, a quick well of tears forming in her eyes. "Damn it, Amir. I told myself I wasn't going to do this."
"You can, and you should," he urged. "You're only human, Jaz. You deserve to feel whatever you're feeling. To not hold back just to keep up appearances."
She shook her head, suddenly too overwhelmed to speak. Tears fell freely as she pressed a hand to her mouth. Amir wondered if she'd ever been given permission to be vulnerable in this job.
And that thought just . . . hurt.
As quickly as her defenses crumbled, they were rebuilding, going up brick by brick.
"Just tell me he's going to be fine," she mumbled, blinking rapidly to chase away the tears.
His eyes met hers. "He'll be fine."
A sad smile pulled at her lips. "Thought you CIA types were supposed to be better liars."
Amir looked down at his feet, clasping his hands together. "I guess it's harder if you're lying to a friend."
Jaz swiped at her eyes, quickly putting herself back together to restore her tough composure. He could tell she was embarrassed by her lapse in control, but he didn't regret encouraging it. "How are you holding up?" she asked. "You seem pretty calm about all this."
He breathed in deeply through his nose, clenching and unclenching his teeth. "I'm okay."
"Liar," Jaz replied. He looked at her questioningly. "I didn't peg you for a hypocrite."
He wasn't sure what to say, his brow dipping in confusion.
"Look, Amir. If I'm allowed to not be okay, you are too."
"I'm not—"
"You are."
Amir pursed his lips. "Well, I'm newer on the team. And you guys have known Top longer, so . . ."
Understanding dawned on Jaz's face, and her hard expression was quickly replaced with a sort of disgusted horror. "Amir, you're family." He frowned. "What the rest of us are feeling right now doesn't mean more than what you're feeling. Pain is pain. And you're allowed to be just as upset as we are, no matter how long you've known Top."
He didn't reply, unable to find the right words.
"Look," she began, heaving a sigh. "I wasn't . . . the greatest to you in the beginning. But it doesn't change what you are. You're a part of this team. And on this team, one person isn't more important than another. You should know that by now."
He hadn't. He could never shake the feeling that he was lesser. A stranger in their midst. The new guy.
"You mean a lot to us. All of us. Don't trick yourself into thinking you're alone."
He swallowed past the lump in his throat. "I'll try and remember that."
"You better," Jaz muttered, punching him lightly in the shoulder. He smirked, unable to help it. "You're good people, Amir. That's why Top picked you."
That's why Top picked you.
That statement hit him square in the chest. He'd lived his life trying to make up for his mistake. For failing his sister. He'd done questionable things to reach a final goal, and he'd built a false life out of skilled lying and carefully placed intimidation and venom.
Amir had resigned to the fact that he wasn't . . . good. He'd fight for good, but he'd take on the dark to accomplish it.
Yet Adam had seen something in him from the beginning. Something he couldn't see.
That's why Top picked you.
That phrase meant something he couldn't quite explain. That maybe he wasn't as hopeless as he thought he was.
Tears nipped at his eyes, and he hurriedly blinked them away.
Adam couldn't die.
Because Amir needed time to make it up to him.
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Preach found McG kicking an old coffee machine. The air was emotionally charged, and Preach didn't have to ask to find out where all the misplaced frustration was coming from.
They were all feeling it, in some form or another.
"McG, I think you've taught it a lesson."
McG stopped, and all the energy just seemed to drain out of the soles of his feet and puddle on the floor. He looked spent. Weighed down. Lost.
"He's in good hands, doc," Preach reminded him, keeping his voice low and steady. "You did everything you could."
McG set a hand on top of the machine, shaking his head. "Doesn't feel like it."
Taking a few calm steps forward, Preach settled a warm hand on the medic's shoulder. "You did everything, Joseph. You can't control every piece. You made all the right choices."
"We should've been there earlier, Preach. We should've waited a few hours and then at least gone back to find—what we thought was—the body."
"No one could've known. Honestly, he should've died out there. By some lucky odds, he survived. And us not being there . . . that's not on you."
McG shook his head again. "We just assumed. We shouldn't have assumed."
"Take a step back and look at all the details, McG."
"I'm not doing any weird spiritual shit—"
Preach patted his shoulder. "We're not. Just take a step back and think back to where you were five hours ago."
McG obeyed, letting his mind travel back to when the four of them were mourning around the kitchen table.
"As they say, hindsight is twenty-twenty. When we were back at base, thinking Top was gone, we knew the odds. We knew what kind of fate awaited him if he didn't make it to exfil with us."
The medic said nothing, bowing his head while he leaned against the machine.
"There was no way we could've known. And Noah left Top's comm line open, and he still didn't know until this morning. We all did everything right. Top would say so himself."
McG huffed, rubbing at his eyes. Preach was right. Top would've been livid if they'd stayed behind or took any kind of risks to find his body. "Yeah, okay."
"How about we leave the coffee machine to lick its wounds and go back to the others."
McG nodded, fighting the burn in his eyes.
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"No coffee?" Amir asked, watching the other two men enter the room.
"Machine's broken," McG muttered, avoiding Amir's eyes as he struggled to hold back his own emotions. He took a seat, digging the heels of his hands into his eyes. Preach sat beside him, quickly taking stock of his other two teammates. He was unsurprised to see their red-rimmed eyes.
They'd been better.
"We thought Top was dead," McG stated plainly, letting his hands fall to rest on his knees. "We sat on that all night. All night. And then he was miraculously alive." He paused, looking directly at Amir. "But is this . . . is this really better?"
It wasn't. They all knew that.
"Did you see his eyes?" Jaz asked staring at the center of the floor. McG shifted uncomfortably in his seat, suddenly unsure of where to look. She continued, "It was like he wasn't really there. He was so out of it." She looked up at McG. "Could he really survive this?"
The medic shrugged. "I don't . . . I don't know. I wish I did."
No one said a word, all of them fearing the worst. They weren't as hopeful as they were when they'd left their base that morning. But they still held on to the little hope they had left, clinging to it like a lifeline.
If only for something to hold onto.
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It had been hours. McG had dissolved into an empty stare, while Preach waited patiently with his usual faith and strength. Amir had paced off and on to burn nervous energy. And Jaz had started tracing the lines in the flooring with her eyes while she kept her arms folded.
Near tears came and went, and sighs regularly echoed across the room. At one point, Amir had wandered off to find food and came back with sandwiches. McG had refused at first while the others ate, but Amir quietly convinced him to eat something. To take care of himself.
And then it was back to waiting.
And waiting.
Footsteps quietly echoed down the hall, and the team perked up at the sound. A woman in scrubs approached them with a clipboard in hand, and they realized . . . this is it.
That desperation to hear something, anything, quickly turned to terror. For a moment, they wondered if this was the end.
Before she'd even stopped walking, she offered them a smile and quickly reported, "He's doing fine."
They stopped breathing.
She held one hand up in a placating gesture and pulled a chair over to face all of them before she sat down. "He lost a lot of blood, but your transfusion helped, and we pushed another bag. An infection's developed, but we've already got him on antibiotics and we don't foresee any complications. The wounds were through and through and nothing vital was hit, so closing them up was pretty straightforward. It's going to take him some time to recover from the blood loss and infection, but he should pull through just fine."
The four of them stared at her in shocked silence for a few seconds, still processing. After hours of wondering if this was it, they were expecting complications at least.
And it took a minute for their minds to catch up.
"Thank you," Preach finally said, offering her an unsure smile.
Her own smile widened. "Whenever you're ready, you're welcome to see him. Room 106. And of course, feel free to stay—just let us know if you need anything for the long term."
"Thank you," Preach repeated, nodding. "We really appreciate it."
"Of course." She stood, putting the chair back in place before leaving with a small upturn of her lips.
Jaz stared at the wall of the hallway, still frozen in place. "So . . . he's going to be okay?"
The news sunk in, and a collective wave of relief crashed over them. McG smiled, and Preach looked to the ceiling in gratitude.
Standing, McG shook his head, still grinning. "I don't know about you guys, but I'm going to make sure the poor sap's doing as well as they say."
Not wasting a moment, the other three moved to follow, eager to see for themselves.