Author's Note: Hello, hello! I just want to say, thank you so, so much for your kind reviews. I really appreciate folks taking the time to leave one, and I am just overjoyed when folks point out what they liked most or what they feel I've done well. You're all gems and fabulous humans.
I admit, I always struggle with recovery in these fics, so I did struggle with this chapter. I hope I did it justice and that the characters aren't too OOC. The fic's not over yet, but it's winding down. Thanks for sticking around. :)
Chapter Five
Adam looked a lot better.
While he was still pale, he wasn't quite so gray, and the medical team had cleaned all the blood off his face and hair. He was starting to look more like himself, though not quite there.
"This whole thing has shaved at least ten years off my life," Jaz muttered, staring down at the blond. She felt better seeing him with a little pink to his skin. But she wouldn't be right until she saw Adam—the familiar spark—in his azure eyes.
"I'll be a lot happier when we're back at base," McG huffed, looking at the monitor to review Adam's vitals.
"I'm just happy he's still here," Amir remarked, dropping wearily into a chair.
Preach stayed quiet, looking at Adam, transfixed. He worried about the man on a regular basis, watching him throw himself into danger and poor self-care for his team. And knowing Adam had no one who cared about him back in the states hurt all that much more. The team leader openly befriended anyone who needed an ally. And yet, his support system was surprisingly small.
Only because he convinced everyone else that he didn't need one.
With a huff, Preach found his own seat, settling in for a slow wait. However long it took Adam to wake up, he'd be here. They'd all be here.
"I wonder what it was like out there," Amir said quietly, his eyes sorrowful. "Being alone."
Preach shifted in his seat, taking a deep breath. He'd thought about it himself, but he also knew Adam was an unusual breed. Built to be a soldier. To be a leader. "Honestly, I think he was still more worried about us."
The other three looked at him, confused.
Preach continued. "Adam's prepared to die at any given moment. It's part of the job, and he knows what he signed up for. He's not afraid to die. Even alone. But he doesn't want to let us down."
A hush fell over the room. Once Preach said it, they realized they already knew. Adam hadn't fought so hard to live for himself. He did it for them.
The selfless, stubborn bastard.
Worn out by the realization, Jaz and McG settled into their own chairs. No one dared disrupt the silence. Instead, they allowed a moment of reverence for everything Adam did for them. And would do.
And then they waited.
The four of them sat patiently through the night and into the early hours of the morning. Each only slept a half hour at a time, worried they'd miss Adam's waking moment. McG kept a steady eye on Adam's temperature, staring at the monitor and pressing a hand against his CO's neck to double-check. The fever had settled in, a rosy color bleeding into Adam's cheeks. It was under control, but it didn't stop McG from hovering at every moment.
And as the hours passed by, most of them tried to avoid thinking about Adam lying prone in the brush, bleeding away bit by bit. Not Preach. He forced himself to face it. To take it head on. He let every image and every thought invade his mind. It hurt. But he'd give it the attention it deserved. Just to understand what Adam had experienced out there. Alone.
Nurses regularly came in to check on Adam, and none of them minded the team. They'd dealt with it before. Teams like theirs that were determined to be close at all times. And with every visit, the nurses would offer kind smiles.
Still, the team waited. Both patiently and impatiently.
It was sometime in the early morning when blue eyes cracked open.
McG was first to notice.
"Top?" He crept out of his chair, moving closer to the blond.
Adam's brow pushed downward and he closed his eyes, trying to get his bearings. The rest of the team gathered around him, waiting with bated breath. His eyes opened again, and he squinted at the ceiling.
He was awake. He was finally awake.
"Where am I?"
His voice was nearly a whisper, raspy and grated.
"The hospital. On a base a few hours' out from ours," Jaz answered, smiling a little. "You're looking a lot better."
He frowned. "Cold."
"That'd be the fever," McG replied, glancing back at the monitor. "Should pass soon enough. Doc says everything's looking normal. Might be able to get back to base in a couple days." The team leader didn't say anything, struggling to be present.
On the other side of the bed, Jaz anxiously stared at Adam's eyes, waiting. She watched him blink slowly, still trying to get a handle on the world around him. All she wanted was to see the familiar, spirited ember behind those irises. And with a sinking heart, she realized it might take some time before she'd see it again.
He'd only just woken up after all. And in the fog of fever, he still wasn't all there.
Swallowing her disappointment, she took his hand, offering what support she could. His fingers tightened around hers automatically, and her breath caught in her throat. She thought back to when they couldn't even curl around McG's hand.
Maybe there wasn't that lively spark she was looking for. But this was enough for now. She tightened her hold.
"Everyone okay?" Adam whispered.
Amir rolled his eyes as the others let out a huff of laughter and shook their heads.
"We're fine, Top. Let's worry about you," McG gently reprimanded, pressing his hand against Adam's neck for the millionth time to check his temperature. Part of it was to check his temperature. The other was just to remind McG that the team leader was really alive.
Adam's eyes drifted closed again, and he struggled to swallow past his dry throat. He was still half asleep, teetering on the edge of consciousness. "S'rry I didn't w'ke up sooner."
There was a pause of confusion. With the fever and overwhelming exhaustion, they knew Adam wasn't quite himself. But they couldn't understand why he'd apologize for something out of his control.
"What are you talking about, Adam?" Preach asked quietly.
"Y'thought I w's dead. Should've wok'n up sooner. S'rry I put y'through that." Adam's hoarse words slurred more the longer he talked, and he was fading quickly.
And yet, everyone stood silent and still, processing his apology.
How long had he thought about that? Even now, in a fever-induced haze, it was at the forefront of his mind. And it wasn't even his fault.
"You have nothing to apologize for," Amir replied firmly, resting a comforting hand on Adam's shoulder. "We're just happy to have you back. Focus on that and get better."
Adam didn't respond as he gracefully slipped unconscious, leaving the four of them both heartbroken and relieved.
At least he was the same old Top in some ways. But it'd be better once he's regained his strength and, with it, his commanding presence.
McG wearily patted Adam's shoulder, and the four of them tiredly went back to waiting.
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Adam's fever broke sometime in the late morning. Jaz had volunteered to mop the sweat off his face and neck, eager to do something to help. So in the warm light of the rising sun, she softly pressed a clean cloth to his skin, blotting lightly with a respectful diligence. Amir and McG had disappeared to find some food, and Preach stepped out to update Patricia on Adam's progress.
So it was just her. And that was fine.
She mopped beads of sweat from his forehead, focused on her task. And then stopped suddenly, seeing something from the corner of her eye. She shifted her gaze to the blond's face, sure she'd seen movement.
Then Adam frowned, his guise pinching in discomfort.
Startled, she pulled the cloth away, watching his face as he slowly came back to consciousness.
"Top?" she asked, frozen. Blue irises peered through sleepy slits as he pushed toward awareness. Quickly gaining strength, he turned his head a little to look at her, though still bogged down by lingering hints of lethargy.
And it was there. That fire behind intelligent eyes. It was hampered a little by pain and weariness, but it was there.
Jaz smiled, tears nipping at her eyes.
"Jaz?"
"Hey, Top."
For a moment, she simply watched his gaze, overjoyed to find it as full of life as it should be. As strong as it should be.
"You okay?" he asked, watching her.
She couldn't hold back the laugh that escaped her. Maybe it was because she was just so relieved. Maybe it was a little bit of sleep-deprived madness.
"I'm okay," she replied in her low, breathy voice, blinking back moisture as she dabbed sweat from his neck. "You're fever broke, and everything's looking good. They're talking about transporting you back to base soon."
He continued to examine her face, silent. Searching for any clues that she might be hurting. Or struggling.
But he wouldn't find it. She was sure of it. Because she felt better than she had in days.
"For a minute, we didn't think you'd make it," she continued, speaking casually while sponging sweat off his cheeks. His forehead. And surprisingly, he let her. Maybe he was too distracted to notice. "You were pretty out of it by the time we got you back to the chopper. Should've seen your color. It was bad, Top."
His brow dipped in concern. "You sure you're okay?"
"I am now," she answered simply. She pulled the cloth away and sat back in her seat. "But it has been a rough couple of days."
For a moment, she thought she saw guilt flash across his face. She wondered if he remembered his feverish apology in the early morning. But as soon as the guilt was there, it was gone. Hidden away.
"What did happen out there?" Jaz questioned, the corners of her mouth dipping downward. "One moment, you were behind us, and then the next, you weren't."
He brought a weak hand to his face, rubbing at his eyes as he collected his thoughts. He was becoming more aware with every passing minute, rapidly returning to his old self. "Well, it happened so fast." He paused, thinking back. "I . . . I took the hit to the abdomen first. Then the leg. And at first, I didn't even realize I'd been hit." There was a beat of silence as he focused. Remembered. "When I finally did, I just remember falling. Not sure why." His words were slow, like he was working through the details. "And somehow, I was aware enough to roll into those bushes to hide." He stopped again, staring down at his hands. "To be honest, I didn't think I was going to make it. I thought they'd find me and eliminate me immediately. I'm not sure . . . I'm not entirely sure how they missed me."
Jaz watched him as he spoke, noting the way his face darkened. She wondered if he'd actually had time to internalize what had happened to him. He was always so focused on the task at hand. Emotions and distracting thoughts were often pushed aside to make room for more important things. Maybe that's what happened here.
But in an instant, he blinked away the darkness, shoving it down and away from Jaz's eyes.
The sad part was that she'd seen the same thing far too many times before.
He attempted to move a little, but stopped as he settled a hand on his abdomen, hissing painfully.
"Are you in pain? Do you need some meds?" she asked quickly.
He waved her away. "No. No, I'm fine. Just . . . getting reacquainted." Sweat beaded on his forehead, and while he looked much better than he had on the chopper, there were still dark circles of exhaustion under his eyes.
Jaz settled a hand on his shoulder, holding up the cloth. "Here." Realizing what she was going to do, he hesitated, trying to decide if he should protest or not. Instead, he sat there stiffly and quietly.
Taking that as permission, she gently patted at his face, blotting off the sweat. "I know you don't really like to be taken care of, but you're going to have to get used to it."
"If you say so," he mumbled, a hint of bitterness in his voice.
"Top?"
McG stood in the doorway, Amir just behind him.
Adam offered a small wave. "Hey, McG. Amir."
The medic dropped a bag of food on a nearby table before heading straight to Adam's free side. "How are you feeling? Are you in pain?" He felt for a temperature and manually checked Adam's pulse.
Adam resisted the urge to slap the medic's hand away. "I'm fine. Really."
"Well, forgive me if I don't believe you," McG retorted, standing back with his hands on his hips. Jaz smirked. He did have a point.
"It's nice to see you awake," Amir commented casually as he handed Jaz some food. But they all knew it was an act to cover what he was really feeling. He was a master of deception after all. "We were starting to get anxious."
"Amir was anxious. I was perfectly cool and collected," said McG, his smile wide.
Jaz scoffed. "Yeah, because checking Top's vitals every thirty seconds is 'cool and collected.'"
"Everyone's a critic," McG mumbled, sparing a glance at the monitor.
"Well, look who's finally awake," rumbled a low voice.
Adam looked up to see Preach entering the room, that calm smirk on his face.
"Preach," Adam acknowledged, offering a nod.
The larger man moved to Adam's side to give him a friendly squeeze on his shoulder. "Welcome back."
Adam smiled with a shake of his head. "Thanks, Preach."
"I just updated the deputy director and spoke to the nurses. If everything goes smoothly, we should have you out of here and back to base tomorrow," the older man reported.
Adam's smile grew wider. "Glad to hear it."
Overjoyed and feeling lighter than they had for days, the team settled down to eat, apologizing for munching on their meals in front of Adam. As expected, he didn't mind.
And for a moment, they just enjoyed things as they were, comfortably striking up a conversation. Seeing Adam act more like himself was comforting, and the team found themselves more relaxed, interrupted only by Adam's occasional pained grunt or wince.
As the afternoon rolled in, Adam drifted back to sleep.
And that was okay. Adam finally looked more alive than dead, and his slumber was less desperate healing than steady recovery. For once, the team could get a little sleep of their own.
Because Adam would still be there when they woke up.
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"You ready, Top?" McG stood by patiently, holding crutches while he kept an eye on the team leader.
Adam sat on the edge of the bed, dressed in sweats and a t-shirt that hung loosely on his thinning frame. He'd lost a little weight during his hospital stay, and it showed.
He was more than eager to get out of there and back to familiarity but still struggled being upright. He swayed lightly, a bit dizzy and in pain.
Still, he was determined. He wasn't staying here another minute.
"Yeah, I'm ready," he muttered, reaching for the crutches. McG hesitantly relinquished them, looking concerned.
"You sure you're okay enough to travel?"
"I'm fine, McG."
The other three watched on, skeptical in their own right. But when it came to hospitals, Adam was not one to stay if he didn't have to.
Adam gingerly stood up, using the crutches for support. Pain shot from his abdomen and leg, bolting through his nerves. And for a moment, all he could hear was white noise as his vision grayed out for a minute. Then he was back, and he felt supportive hands on his arms and shoulders.
"You good?"
Adam looked to McG, too proud to admit he'd nearly passed out. He refused to be wheeled around in a wheelchair, and he wasn't about to give the medic a reason to force him.
"Yeah, I'm okay," he answered quietly, his wounds throbbing tirelessly.
McG looked unsure, but he knew Adam well enough to not push it. "Alright, let's get out of here."
The trek out of the hospital was slow and steady, and Adam had to stop several times to rest and catch his breath. With each pause, the team worried more, watching their team leader closely. He was growing paler with every passing yard, but still pressed on if only to prove to himself that he could do it.
Once they were all settled in the jeep to drive to the landing strip, they all breathed a little easier.
Adam was tired enough to allow Preach and Amir to help him onto the plane, and by the time he was settled in a seat, he was exhausted and nearly colorless.
"How about you take it easy for a while?" Amir prodded, sitting beside Adam. Adam nodded wearily with his eyes closed and head down. Of course Top was the type to push too hard too fast. It would be odd if he wasn't.
Amir looked down at Adam's hands, stilling when he saw the slight tremble in the other man's fingers. He remembered the same tremble from just a couple days ago. The one begging for relief.
The smaller man looked up at Adam, watching the blond breathe shakily as he recovered. A pang of worry bounced through the ex-spy's chest. He dropped a hand to Adam's shoulder, silently offering his support.
"Just breathe, Top," he muttered quietly. "Don't overdo it."
Adam did as he was told, inhaling deeply as he worked to piece himself back together. The others watched, their lips pursed in concern.
By the time Adam got a handle on his pain, they were in the air and on their way. And only a half an hour into the flight, his head started to bob sleepily, his body begging for rest. Eventually he fell asleep, his head hanging forward while the seat straps kept him upright. The seats on most military planes weren't exactly comfortable, and they were often worse to sleep in.
And truly, it was awful to see him so tired. It reminded them that, not so long ago, they'd found Adam in deplorable shape. It was easy to forget that it was only a couple days ago. Adam was good at working through pain and exhaustion, and he could even keep up an engaging, natural conversation.
But that didn't mean he wasn't hurting or completely worn out by his healing body.
Not wanting to add a sore neck to Adam's list of grievances, Amir gently repositioned Adam so his head leaned back against the plane wall. The ex-spy tucked a small blanket between Adam's shoulder and head, attempting to make the team leader as comfortable as possible.
And Adam slept all the way to base.
It was painful to wake him up.
Coming to, he was groggy and disoriented. He was so out of it that he didn't protest Amir and Preach helping him out of the plane to the jeep. And from the jeep to their home away from home.
It wasn't until he was settled in his own bunk that they could all indulge in a sigh of relief.
Now the hard part was over. All that was left was a slow and steady recovery.
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Adam slept well into the next morning. It made the team so antsy that they had to send McG in to make sure he was really okay.
He was.
The team was gathered around the kitchen table eating a late breakfast when they heard the familiar click of crutches down the hallway.
McG was out of his seat in an instant, moving to stand at the end of the corridor.
"I'm fine, McGuire," Adam called gruffly as he continued making his way to the kitchen.
The medic held up his hands in surrender. "Okay, okay. Just making sure."
No one said a word, unsure of what to say. The blond finally made it to the common area, hair messy and eyes worn and tired. In silence, he gingerly lowered himself into a chair, setting his crutches aside as he stretched out his injured leg. "Good morning," he mumbled wearily, his voice gravelly.
"Morning, Top," Jaz replied, leaning forward with a smile. "How'd you sleep?"
"Fine."
"I made shakshuka. Want any?" Amir asked, gaze soft and sympathetic.
Adam shook his head, swallowing thickly. They all frowned, tracing his now slimmer figure.
"Want to eat something else?" Amir offered quietly. Adam shook his head again and dropped his gaze to the floor. He knew they'd worry. But he didn't think he could keep anything down. He felt absolutely awful.
"Think you could drink some water?" McG asked, eyeing the team leader worriedly.
Adam shrugged. "I can try."
It was strange to see Adam so miserable. But they couldn't blame him.
Adam turned his head to look at the laptop on the other table. It was several meters away, and they could all see the dread and exhaustion shining shamelessly in his gaze.
"I've got it," Amir volunteered, moving to collect the laptop and put it in front of him. McG set a cold bottle of water next to it, watching the team leader wince as he leaned forward to turn the computer on.
"Sure you should be working, Top?" inquired McG, looking concerned.
Adam ran a hand through his messy hair. "Gotta call the deputy director."
Preach's brow creased in confusion. "We can update her."
The team leader shook his head. "No, it's okay. It's not like I have anything better to do, and she'll probably want to see my face."
They couldn't argue with that. Patricia and Adam shared a friendship that had heavy overtones of professionalism. But it was still a friendship, and they knew she worried.
To give him some privacy, they wished him luck and wandered off to the cage to handle some regular gear maintenance. But they were still within earshot.
Adam set up the call, ringing in as he settled further into his chair. She answered on the second ring, her face popping up on the screen.
"Dalton. Didn't expect to see you so soon." There was a hint of surprise in her voice, but her expression remained trained and composed.
Adam smiled wearily. "Thought I'd give you call myself just to say I'm taking a few weeks off."
"As expected. How are you feeling?" Her tone was as controlled as ever, but so much was packed into the one, little question: You don't look well. You've lost weight. You look tired.
"I'm fine." He'd been saying that a lot lately. "Just . . . recovering from the trip yesterday."
"Don't push yourself. I need the leader of my team in top condition."
A smirk pulled at his lips. He knew it; she was worried. "Understood."
"Thanks for calling, Dalton. It's nice to see you."
"Always a pleasure, Deputy Director Campbell."
Adam ended the call, left even more exhausted after the brief exchange. He should probably be resting, but he couldn't stay laid up in bed all day.
And he wanted to be with his team.
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Patricia closed her laptop, taking a moment to herself. Adam looked more than a little worse for wear. His hair and beard were unkempt, there were dark smudges under his red-rimmed eyes, and he'd lost a few pounds.
But he was alive. And he was recovering.
Patricia gracefully blinked back the tears of relief. She'd been alarmed by the initial image of Adam; she hadn't expected him to look so worn down. But recovery wasn't always a smooth journey; she just had to remember that.
Still, she'd check with Preach regularly just to make sure the team leader was doing all right.
Patricia pressed her locket to her lips.
For another day, the world kept a good soldier.
A good man.