Clay's eyes slowly fluttered open, and the pain awakened with is conscience.
The memory of the explosion as well as the car crash gradually lightened his clouded mind while the smell of antiseptic and the persistent buzzing in his ears welcomed the soldier to the real world.
Fluctuating in that bubble, Clay didn't know how much time had passed since he was conscious last, or how long he had until the dream world would reclaim his presence again.
He agonizingly took a deep breath, his chest on fire and his muscles contracted. Then he searched for his teammates' warm looks.
Well, warmth was not exactly what he was trying to gain from them, he was already burning like if he woke up in hell.
Clay felt trapped in the once comfortable blankets with the mattress under him soaking in sweat and hot, sticky pools forming under his armpits.
He closed his eyes, relieving on his skin the sensation of the bright sun rays warming the desert air. He saw the dunes and the burning vehicle, and then Abigail's lifeless look, recalling he had to abandon her there.
Oh, Abby... At that thought Clay's heart got caught in a strong vice, and breathing became harder while the sweat drops on his forehead multiplied.
Over again, he was alone in the middle of nowhere with the sand surrounding him and his sense of direction lost. His throat closed, the warm air could not penetrate in his lungs anymore while his heart pounded non-stop.
Gasping, his weary eyes wandered around, desperate to find his friends.
Sonny and Ray were right beside him, their wide eyes lightening at the sight of his blue gems peering in them.
Clay blinked, trying to focus on his teammates while breathing became a little easier, and for an instant, the pain became more bearable.
Why are they looking at me like that? he thought, lips pursed and panting heavily.
Did I do something wrong... again?
Wait, where are the others? Clay tried to peek behind Ray and Sonny, not spotting the rest of his Team. Did something happen outside the base?
As weak smiles cracked on his friends' apprehensive faces, and Clay rested his head on the pillow, fighting the urge to close his eyes again. His muscles were aching so bad, and his mind was confused by the constant background sound resonating in his ears.
Well, either way they should dissimulate better. This is not helping... he thought, while his sore throat and his dry mouth made swallowing difficult.
At that point, Sonny must notice his fatigue because a second later he handed him a cup of water.
Clay lifted his arm to grab it, but his hand-eye coordination was not the best, and his hand missed the target, his fingers clenching the air.
The gaze Sonny and Ray exchanged at that moment underlined his failed attempt, and made Clay's pale cheeks color in all the shades of red.
Caring for his little brother, Sonny thoughtfully helped Clay put the straw in his mouth. This time, Clay's hand landed on the cup, which Sonny kept holding for him while he welcomed the refreshing liquid down his throat.
The desire of choking down the whole bottle grew in Clay as his throat was sore and dry like the desert itself, but all he was able to do was only taking a few, small sips.
"Thanks," Clay said under his breath, licking his lips to not waste even the littlest drip of that so much dreamt elixir.
While Sonny was still holding the cup, Clay's hand shifted to touch his friend's, and his eyes widened, begging for an explanation. He had barely the strength to keep his arm lifted, and his hand, rested on Sonny's wrist, could not stop shaking even for a second.
His teammates' lips moved so rapidly that he could not read them. His eyes shifted from Sonny to Ray then back to Sonny, but all he could hear was the damn ringing, penetrating deep in his brain.
Losing his grip on Sonny, Clay rested his arm on the bed. Then he closed his eyes in the attempt to hide his lost look from his friends.
A moment later, a gentle touch on his shoulder made him open his sleepy gems, and he found Ray showing him a piece of paper with black letters scattered on it.
Clay blinked repeatedly, trying to read the note, but his vision was blurred and the words seemed to move before his eyes.
He tried as hard as he could to focus on his friends' voices, but the buzzing in his ears became louder any minute. He wanted to scream and he wanted to run away, but his paralyzed body wouldn't obey his wishes.
He managed to put his hand on his hears; his world spinning and dizziness growing, a grimace of pain cracked on his face. Clay wanted to cry, he wanted that sound to stop.
His confusion grew higher while he tried unsuccessfully to catch his breath. Suddenly, the nausea struck him, and the taste of bile filled his mouth.
Clay found himself gagging and gasping. The bile wanting to get out, the air not wanting to get in.
His entire body was now shaking as the cold penetrated deep down in his bones while the dream of the desert nights clouded the reality of the sick bay.
He felt deadly cold. And lost; the immense sky above him and the dry land under him.
He felt like drowning.
Despite all the shivering, he could feel sweat drops descending from his temples and his gown soaking and sticking to his skin.
One minute he was freezing, lost in the immensity of the desolating night, the other he was being cooked by the beating sun, the suffocating air forcing its way into his lungs.
The only constant thing was the loneliness. The deadly feeling of being abandoned there.
Clay used the little strength he could recall to lift his arm again and reach out for someone, and Ray was right there to promptly grab it.
Clay felt secure by Ray's strong hook, but his brown, deep eyes were telling a whole other story.
Meeting their eyes, Clay saw his friends were not even trying to hide their concern anymore; he could feel the tension transpire from every single little movement they made, and he was distracted from the physical pain by the guilt of making them worry like that.
But he could not ease their pain.
Clay couldn't help them; the sting that invested him at every breath he took was already ghastly on its own, and again threatening to take control of his brain.
I can not let them down, not again. This thought echoed in Clay's mind. If they can't reach me, I have to reach them.
And he tried; he tried hard.
He opened his mouth to say something, but his thoughts were confused. At that point, he didn't know what he was actually saying, or if he was saying something at all.
At every gasp, breathing got harder and then all went black again.
... ... ...
As the beeping in the background grew irregular, Ray and Sonny shared a concerned look. Clay's gagging made them flinch, his gasping resonated with the beeping sound speeding up. Horror filled them as they watched him fighting for air and struggling to reach out for them.
"We're right here, brother," Ray said, sat on the edge of the bed while his hand was firmly wrapped in Clay's cold, sweaty one.
"We won't leave you again, you can count on that," Sonny said, placing himself right behind Ray, so Clay could see them both without too much efforts.
Clay's blue gems widened searching for some reassurance, but the two SEALs did not have the strength to put the calm mask on their faces.
"Everything's gonna be just fine, brother," saying that, Sonny had to grit his teeth.
Clay's eyes kept roaming in the void as a strong reminder their words could not reach his ears, nor his heart.
The thought he was drowning in the silence hit them like a cold shower, leaving them no more moves to help the suffering kid.
Ray kept holding Clay's shaking hand in both his. Every second that passed, he had to tighten his grip as he felt his mate's hand slip for his muscles giving up on him.
Ray tightened hard like if Clay's permanence in the word of the living depended on that contact; like if letting Clay's hand slip trough meant letting his soul slip away in an ocean of solitude.
The two soldiers saw their injured mate's lips disclosing while feeble sounds came indistinguishable from them.
Ray turned to Sonny, silently asking if he could get what Clay was trying to say, but the lost look he threw him in return said it all.
If Clay was in the silence, they were in the dark, not able to reach him.
Then Ray felt the strength definitively abandon Clay's hand, and his baby eyes closing while sweat drops continued inexorably multiplying on his forehead, framed with shaggy golden curls.
He closed his eyes, not wanting to loosen his grip, then turned to Sonny. Their eyes locked, pure terror in them, and again the thought of Clay not feeling their presence hurt their soul deep.
... ... ...
The beeping sound of the monitors underlined the time passing slowly while the doctor carefully visited his patient. Now, the void sick bay was full again as the whole Bravo Team came running at Clay's bedside.
The guys held their breath, accompanying every gesture the caretaker made with their heavy looks.
"What's happening? What's wrong with him?" Sonny asked the exact moment the doctor finished checking on Clay.
"He caught an infection. We knew it could happen."
"But you said you saved his spleen. What's the matter with that?" The extreme worry in Sonny's voice was clear to all.
"Yes, I said that. The removal of only the damaged region will guarantee him a good function of the organ, but it is not infallible even in the healthiest people."
"Aren't you already administering him a full range of antibiotics to supply to that?" Trent stepped in, trying to appeal to his medical training to understand what was actually going on.
"Again, yes. We're giving him what we have at disposal." The doctor's tone was cold and detached. "The thing is, he already had his immune system compromised. To be honest, the burnings in his arms, the tympanic rupture, and the broken ribs are all big risks when it comes to infections."
"Wait, what's the connection with his ribs now?" Sonny frowned to all those medical things.
"Cracked and broken ribs can compromise the respiratory capacity, and that makes him subjected to lung infections."
"Pneumonia?" Trent's eyebrows raised, his tone growing acute. "Did he caught pneumonia?"
"That's exactly the problem here; we don't know."
They didn't know. This thought hit the soldiers in their hearts while they exchanged terrified looks. And glancing down to the pale, agitating Clay made the feeling even harder to bear.
"The possible explanations to his fever are much more than you would expect," the doctor continued. "And even if we could run the needed test here, that will not assure we would have the answer in time."
"Wait, is the infection that dangerous?" Jason asked, glancing at the restless kid.
Clay was breathing heavily under the oxygen mask; his eyes blinked, his look was off, and his hands moved in a delusional call for help, shaking like the rest of his body was.
"In his conditions, yes," the doctor coldly stated.
Those words made the soldiers' hearts skip a beat, and cold sweat appeared on their foreheads.
"Plus we won't have access to the specific meds in short times," the doctor continued.
"So what do we do?" Ray looked down at Clay, his wild, golden hair matted against his deadly pale forehead.
"We will continue to give him what we have, but the truth is that it would be vastly better if we could transport him to Landstuhl Regional Medical Center."
"You wanna fly him to Germany?" Trent's eager tone made all his teammates' muscles contract.
"I would. LRMC is the absolute best in soldier's care. It would surely be the best option, but-"
"Well?" Sonny didn't let him finish. "What are you waiting for?"
"They can't," Trent helplessly said, preceding the doctor. "Not till he's stable, right?"
They all stared at the medical officer, lips pursed and eyes avidly demanding for an answer.
"Petty Officer Sawyer is right. I'm afraid your teammate can't handle such a long flight in his current conditions."
He can't handle the flight. Those words resounding in their heads left their heart dry.
Clay could not handle the flight.
"Right now the risks of complications are greater than the benefits of the transfer," the doctor finished.
"So we just watch him suffer like this?" Ray protested, a grimace appearing on his face.
"We are doing all we can to fight the infection and get him good to fly."
"We know," Jason sighted. "Thanks, doc."
Watching Clay tossing and fighting so hard in his sleep, their hands started hitching, and they could feel their blood flowing rapidly in their veins.
They felt useless. At that very moment, Clay was attending a battle they could not fight with him like they always did.
Hurry up and wait, too many times that phrase applied to their job and to their lives.
It was part of the job they signed for. For sure they got the whole package; action and sits back, good outcomes and bad once. But this was hard to stand.
It was every single time, but this, seeing the youngest of their brothers risking so much because they couldn't be with him when he needed them, was mind blowing.
They failed him. They knew that and they had to live with that. At that point, they could only hope Clay could live with that too, so they could make amend.
"Sorry to interrupt you, sir," a soldier appeared behind Blackburn's back. "Officer Ellis requires your presence in the command center."
Blackburn reluctantly turned to him, barely able to took his eyes off Clay. "I'm coming," he sighed, turning one last time to his unconscious man.
"The Team too, actually," the soldier timidly said.
The SEALs closed in around Clay's bed, gazing at their commander.
"I am not leaving him alone now," Ray spoke up for all them. "He needs us."
"Davis will stay with him," Blackburn severely said, making her a sign to settle back down. "For the rest of you, let's go."
Bravo members looked at him silently, arm crossed and feet firmly four square.
"Listen up, guys, there's nothing concrete we can do for the kid right now." Blackburn glanced down; pronouncing those words while staring at his ghosted skin was harder than ever.
Then he turned his look up, peering straight in Bravo's eyes. "I'm not pulling out the ranking card on this, but there is someone out there for whom you can make the difference between life and death. Do you really think Clay would let someone die because you preferred to stare at him sleeping instead of doing your job?"
"Of course not, but..." Ray reluctantly admitted.
"The commander's right," Jason threw a last look in Clay's direction then headed out, feeling pain at every step away. "Let's go; he'll be fine."
He'll be fine, Bravo Team silently prayed, leaving the young soldier to Davis' cares.
... ... ...
The sick bay was deserted again, and the beeping of the heart monitor echoed in the room.
Alone in there, Davis couldn't do more than witness powerlessly to Clay's restless sleep.
His ruffled beard colored Clay's white face in gold reflexes, and his baby blue eyes opened for her now and then, silently asking for help.
She gently dried his forehead, trying to calm him down when a voice startled her. As she turned, she found there the three missionaries.
"Sorry, we didn't mean to startle you," Aaron said, approaching. "We just wanted to know how your friend is doing."
"He is a fighter," Davis said, barely looking at them. "He is fighting."
"Abby..." Clay's feeble and distant voice called for their attention.
Hearing him pronounce her name, the missionaries winced and shock drew on their faces.
"Is... is that... you?" Clay continued, reaching his hand out toward Leah.
She hesitated. Leah had nothing of Abby's red hair or green ocean eyes, so they couldn't understand how the soldier was mistaking her for her dead friend.
"Shh, it's okay, Clay," Davis passed her hand on his sticky hair, carefully caressing his hot skin, but he continued raving, not feeling her a bit.
"Abby, I'm sorry... I-I'm sorry..." he muttered, his arm shaking hard, his fingers stretched out, desperately trying to reach the lady missionary.
Reluctantly, Leah found the courage to approach his bed and take his hand, preventing him to keep agitating so much.
She forced out a smile, encouraged by her two friends. The missionaries had their moment, sure, but now they knew what happened to Abby was not Clay's fault.
The one who apparently had not that clear in his mind was Clay himself.
"I should have done a better job," Clay continued in his ravings. "I should have saved you... I'm sorry... so sorry..." He laid his head back on the pillow, panting, but he wouldn't loose the grip on the missionary's hand.
"It's okay, it's not your fault," Leah cried out while her eyes filled with tears, and Aaron had put a hand on her shoulder to comfort her.
"S-sorry... s-so... sorry..." Clay's crackly voice reached directly their hearts.
"I don't know what to do." Leah turned to Davis with her eyes lost, always keeping her grip strong on the soldier's hand.
"You're doing great, it's- it's that he can't hear your voice." She pointed at the cotton in Clay's ears. "Just keep on doing that." She glanced down at their tided hands. "Make him feel your presence, just like that. He needs to feel it. He needs to feel us." Davis' eyes were now watery too, and she had to appeal to all her strength to maintain the control.
... ... ...
Bravo Team was back at the base camp after getting another of those annoying babysitting jobs done. The sun was still high in the sky and the dusty air was burning their lungs.
They were all covered in dirt, with small cuts and bruises on their faces and arms, but they didn't think even for a second about cleaning up and rest. Their primary thought was to go see their injured teammate.
As they got in the sick bay, they spotted Davis and Blackburn in the corner of the room, watching some nurses fiddling with the tubes Clay was connected to.
"Hey! What are they doing to him?" Sonny approached in a hurry.
"Transfer to LRMC," Blackburn said, not getting his eyes off the kid.
"Is he good to fly now?" Rey asked. "Did he awakened?"
"Only for a bit, but he was delusional," Davis sighed, her arms restless.
"We can't wait anymore," the doctor explained, approaching them. "The fever keeps climbing, and we don't have the resources to help him here."
"So you are taking the risk?" Jason asked, tension in his muscles growing.
"It's either that, or watch him slowly die right here." The doctor's cold tone made their word stop.
Watch him die. The thing they feared the most was there in front of them right now.
"So when do we take off?" Sonny interrupted the glacial silence.
"You're not, Sonny." Blackburn crossed his arms and watched his men straight. "Listen up, I know you don't wanna leave him, but you have to complete your deployment."
They opened their mouths to protest, but the Commander cut them short with a firm voice. "Charlie Team will be here in one week to relieve us. Till then, we do our job at the best of our possibilities. Am I clear?"
"I'm not gonna leave him flying alone," Ray stepped up, hardly controlling his shaking limbs.
"You can do nothing for him, he will be unconscious the entire time," the doctor said. "Leave him to the medical officers." He glanced to the caretakers handling Clay's transferring. "Believe me, your brother is in good hands."
They all looked back at their suffering teammate who had now his blue gems open, frantically fluttering toward them.
Jason immediately approached him, followed by the rest of the Team. "We're here, Kid. Right here," he said, resting his hand on Clay's chest.
Clay stared at him, breathing heavily then lifted his arm and grabbed Jason's sleeve as thigh as he could, which wasn't actually very thigh at all.
His lips slightly moved, but no sound came through.
Jason took Clay's hand in his, feeling it shaking and losing strength every second that passed.
"You have to go now, but we will be there for you soon; very soon, I promise." He locked eyes with him, trying to transmit him all his confidence.
"He can't hear you, remember?" a nurse said to him. "And even if he could, he would not recognize you. His temperature is too high; his brain is not responding properly."
They all stared at Clay's lost eyes rapidly scanning them. They watched him blink and search for someone in the room.
We are all here for him, is it really possible he can't recognize us? they asked themselves, tormented by the desire to relieve his pain.
"It's time," a medical officer said to them, starting to push Clay's litter. "Don't worry, I got him."
They escorted him outside the building and all the way through the plane, crossing the base.
"Wait," Ray stopped them right before they could load him on board.
He got close to him, gently put a hand on his heart and lean his forehead on Clay's, feeling the kid's hot sweat transferring to him.
"Stay strong, brother," he said in his ear careless that he could not hear his words. "Stay strong for us." A tear escaped from the soldier's eye, despite he was hardly trying to sniff it away.
Jason put a hand on Ray's shoulder and made him back off, so the corpsmen could finish their job.
They all watched helpless while Clay's pale face disappeared inside the hangar, and as soon as the hatch closed they cleared the runway.
The seals kept their eyes on the vehicle since it disappeared over the horizon, then moved to go back to their job.
"He is strong," Blackburn interrupted the silence that once again echoed deep in the soldiers' hearts. "He is strong and he will pull through this."
The look in Bravo Team's eyes yelled loud how much they feared it was not true.
... ... ...
Clay woke up in a new place, surrounded by people he didn't recognize. A sterile smell immediately came to his nose and he felt cool air painfully filling his lungs.
His whole body was on fire, his head was exploding and the persistent loud ringing in his ears overhung even his deepest thoughts, making Clay feel like he was in SERE training again.
He tried to look around. Cold and strong lights made his eyes hurt, and all those strangers around him didn't make things easier for him.
Clay felt he was moving, but he was pretty sure he was not in a vehicle. He tried to lift to better see, but he was secured to something, a litter, or a stretcher, he thought after passing the strong constriction sensation that made him want to rebel. Then he laid back as the little movement left him out of strength, dizzy and even more disoriented than before.
He felt a consistent but gentle touch on his chest as some man was communicating with him, but he could not understand what he was trying to say.
Clay felt like he was burning alive, and breathing was a difficult task to outcome. He couldn't move, he couldn't talk, he barely could keep his eyes open. He felt trapped in his own body, like he was witnessing something from behind a porthole and could do nothing to change things.
As multiple people started touching him, he tried to oppose, but he quickly had to surrender, to stop wasting the little strength he still had in his unresponsive body.
Clay focused on the faces he had before his eyes, asking himself why he didn't recognize anyone. He was scared, and the only thing that rose above his pain was the thought his teammates were not there with him.
I'm alone. I'm alone again, he thought.
Then a big needle appeared before his eyes and in a few seconds it was the oblivion.
... ... ...
Author's Note: Thank you for keep reading and for the kind review I received.
Well, this was another challenging chapter to write. I had my tough time trying to give you both sides of the coin, but I loved so much the contrast in the points of view.
This bubble Clay is trapped in, the loneliness, the guilt and the pain threatening him, it's a shield that the guys can't crack. The hardest part was trying to show how hard they tried to break this silence from both sides and the tragedy of each of them not knowing how hard the other is fighting for it. I tried to make this bubble transparent so they could, at times, see each other and keep fighting for each other. I hope the guys feeling powerless and guilty too, helped me to give justice to the heartbreak of them letting Clay go, and to him finding himself alone for real.
Well, they are tough, let's just see if this bubble can be burst somehow.