"We agreed?" Eric asked tiredly. He'd had so much coffee, his gut churned. He wanted to go home, go to bed.
"No, we're not 'agreed'." Brock snapped, causing all eyes to turn his way. "This is bullshit."
Whoa, Ray mouthed to Jason, who nodded. Eric rested a hip against the table. The unusual outburst from Brock, the quietest member of Bravo, rocked him off his feet.
"I'm still not getting this." Sonny rubbed his blood shot eyes. "You want us to go where, to do what, for whom again?"
"The last time we went to escort someone of 'high priority', we were shot at and Clay fell into a frozen creek, could have died." Trent added.
Still stunned by Brock's outburst, Ray stared at Trent in disbelief. "Not our usual line of work Blackburn." He finally said, looked at Jason. "Rescue, retrieve, hunt, kill...but escort?"
"I don't recall this resistance when you escorted the scientist and his wife from Russia." Mandy snapped.
"Aah, they crashed in the mountains of, where was it, China? It was classified as a rescue." Sonny snapped right back. "We didn't escort anyone out of Russia. If they hadn't gone down, we never would have been sent. Memory getting faulty there, Miz Ellis?"
Why was everyone unusually cranky this evening?
Again, Ray looked at Jason. But Jason avoided eye contact, did nothing to temper the hostility in the room. Members of Alpha and Bravo support shifted their weight uneasily, shuffled a step or two.
"So, what? Are you saying you're too good to do a simple escort mission?" Mandy volleyed. "The lofty Bravo doesn't lower themselves for a job they feel any tier three team can do?"
"I'm saying the last mission we did for you, ended in failure." Sonny retorted. "The kid banged up again and the target not even in the fucking country you sent us to."
And there it was; the reason for all the hostility - Spenser.
"Aright!" Eric whistled, cut in. "That's enough." He shut it down after Jason didn't take the opportunity given him to do so. "Separate corners."
Jason was sprawled back in his chair, twiddling a pen. He had yet to be told why Mandy insisted on Bravo but he bet whatever the reason was, he and his men weren't going to like it. If he agreed to go on this mission, he'd likely have to leave the kid behind. Once he told Trent what had happened, Clay would be at doc's office because he bet there was more to Clay's injury than loose stitches that wouldn't stop bleeding.
"Does this mission really require our skills?" Jason tossed the pen, sat forward, elbows on the table. "Or is this another Taiz?"
Four sets of Bravo eyes swung to stare at him as one. Attitudes in the room shifted, low murmuring began. Sonny, on his feet, tossed a ball for Cerberus, who, pleased to have some attention, engaged in a game of fetch.
"You want us so you can use the kid again - because of his ability to understand the language." Jason pressed, Mandy didn't deny it. "That your game?"
Aah. Mandy wanted Bravo because Clay spoke the local language.
"Delta won't have lead on this mission." Mandy offered.
"Oh hell no." Sonny said instantly, dropped the ball, planted his palms on the table, leaned across it. "No."
"I'm with Sonny." Brock pivoted his chair away from Jason to glower at Mandy. "We told you in Yemen, never again."
"Woof!" Cerberus returned to Brock's side, gazed balefully at Mandy.
"Won't do it." Trent said.
Ray nodded. "I don't care what information you think this guy has, not putting Spenser at risk to get it."
"He won't be at risk." Mandy spat angrily. "It's his job. If he can't do it, then he should be removed from the team."
Mandy was irritated. Had been since Jason, the last person to walk into the room, had announced they were all there, no need to wait for Spenser, he wasn't coming.
Silence, no one even blinked. Sonny walked out. Brock followed, Cerb on his heels. After a moment, Trent left. Ray wavered, torn between loyalty to Jason, his job, his Commander and his ire at Mandy's attitude. He chose ire - left.
"Ray?" Jason called. Ray didn't turn around, but he paused. "Check my phone." Of all things Jason could have asked of him, checking his phone hadn't crossed his mind.
Ray tilted his head left; his way of communicating 'roger that'. He didn't need to ask why or what. If Jason was asking him to check his phone, it had to do with Spenser. He slammed the door behind him.
Sonny stalked off, Ray didn't call him back, knew he wouldn't go far. Brock was bee-lining for the vending machine. How the hell the man never gained a pound with that sweet tooth...Ray shook his head, looked for Trent. He'd gone to the end of the hall, stared out the window, hands in his pockets.
Damn Mandy.
Ray went to the pocket-shelf on the wall outside the door, removed Jason's cell. He ignored missed calls and voicemails, thumbed open the text app. What the hell did Jason have him looking for?
Nothing from Clay...everyone else was in the room he'd just walked out of...oh...Emma...EMMA?!
"Hey Dad, he got up around 10:30. Still bleeding. Took one of the pills you left for him, went back to bed."
"That Jason's phone?" Sonny asked.
"Yeah." Ray started typing. What the hell was Jason thinking, taking Clay home, leaving him alone with Emma? Yes, alone, because if Jason's mom had been home, Emma wouldn't be the one texting her dad about Clay. And what the hell did she mean, still bleeding?
"Hey Ems, Uncle Ray...running later than we thought. You good?"
"Yup, all's good here."
"Where's your Grandma?"
"Took Mikey to the movies."
"Clay settle down?"
"No, been up a couple times."
"Give him another blanket."
"Will do."
"Okay squirt, love you."
"Luv U 2 Uncle Ray."
Ray sighed, returned the phone. He appreciated Emma texting like an adult with him rather than using emoji's and text-talk abbreviations, but the fact he'd had the short conversation at all, pissed him off. He and Jason were gonna have words.
He'd been hesitant to tell Emma to enter the bedroom, give Clay another blanket, but if her dad was willing to let her stay home and watch Clay by herself, Jason couldn't very well reprimand him for telling Emma to do just that. He'd wanted to ask where Clay was bleeding from, but it wasn't fair to put her on the spot. She likely assumed he knew and to later find out he hadn't and she'd given away something her dad hadn't told him, would make her feel awful, and Ray couldn't put that on her.
Ugh, straddling this not-a-kid-anymore but not yet-quite-an-adult was not something he was looking forward to in his own home.
He joined Trent at the window.
() () ()
Emma pulled a fleece blanket off a shelf in the linen closet. It wasn't all that cold outside, and the heat was on in the house, but she wore sweat pants, hoodie and fuzzy socks, and he wore a t-shirt, so maybe he was cold.
She knocked softly on the partially opened door. She knew better than to barge in, she'd been raised with a father who at times, reacted violently to loud noises and the unannounced presence of a person in his room when woken abruptly.
She didn't know if Clay startled easily and she didn't intend to find out. If he didn't respond to her knock and grant her entrance, she'd leave the blanket on the dresser just inside the door.
"Yeah?" Clay answered sleepily, came up on an elbow. He hadn't heard the phone, had Jason come home?
"Just me." She poked her head around the door. "Uncle Ray texted, the meeting is running late."
The only light in the room came from the hallway but he knew she held a blanket. He'd come from base with only his backpack. His duffel would be delivered to his cage to be retrieved later. If he asked, he was sure she'd bring him a sweatshirt or Henley of her Dad's but his muddled mind didn't form that thought into words.
"Brought you another blanket. Can I get you anything else?"
"I'm good, thanks."
She started to set the blanket down, then changed her mind, shook it out and awkwardly tossed it under the top bunk.
"Grandma and Mikey will be home soon. I'll tell them to keep it down."
"They won't bother me." Clay assured her. He was tired and sore and he ached, but even with the pull of the Motrin, he wasn't able to sleep. He'd doze off, but he wasn't comfortable on his back and didn't want to move or roll over and make the bleeding worse, so pretty much, he remained tense and half awake.
"Okay, night."
"Night."
Emma backed out of the room, pulled the door half-way closed and the hall light went out. Clay sighed, adjusted the blanket, eased onto his left side, bit his lip when his right side twinged in protest over the movement.
If the meeting was going this long, Bravo would be deploying. He didn't know where or why, but yeah, they'd be going. Most likely, Mandy had new information. He just hoped it was accurate this time.
He pulled the blankets over his shoulder and the added warmth from the fleece lulled him towards sleep. His side stabbed at his hip, a reminder he wasn't really in any condition to go anywhere soon. For the first time since he'd joined Bravo, he seriously considered playing on his injury to avoid spinning up.
He was tired of Mandy and her pet missions. Maybe Ray was right, maybe he needed to step down, get his head on straight. Wouldn't hurt to let his body heal either. After this last year, doc would easily sign a medical leave, had tried to convince Clay to take one before...and with an infection in the knife wound, Trent wouldn't argue.
He'd been hurt numerous times, but once he'd healed, he'd been right back with the team. A time or two, he'd gone back before he probably should have. And a time or two, he'd continued to go to work on base when he probably shouldn't have. Yeah, this time, he'd be on his own, getting over this injury, he could go to his aunt's house, he should get anywhere from four to six weeks off...
He heard Linda and Mikey come home, heard Emma meet them in the kitchen, heard the low hum of conversation and soon the door to his room opened. He didn't move, figured it was Mikey coming to bed, but no one entered.
"You asleep?"" Linda asked quietly from the doorway. Right, this was Jason's Mom, she knew better than to barge in on a sleeping Seal. "Okay Mike, he's asleep, get ready for bed, don't disturb him, yes, you have to brush your teeth, where are your pajamas? You can sleep in your Dad's room...no...oh, you want to sleep in here? Alright, but you must be quiet, no bouncing in your bunk."
() () ()
Assorted personnel in the room jockeyed positions, moods shifted; some who were standing, sat; some who were sitting, stood; murmurs and groans and grunts finally settled into an uncomfortable silence.
"Good Mandy, real good." Jason sighed, thumbed his eyes closed. "Do me a favor, don't volunteer on a suicide hot line."
"Jesus Jason, come on!"
"Ellis." Blackburn warned. "If Spenser weren't on the team, you wouldn't have this option. This job doesn't require a tier one unit. You want Bravo because Clay speaks the language. Man up, admit it and accept defeat. Send an interpreter and go with Charlie's tier three team."
"I want Bravo because they're the best and everyone knows it. I want the information Atwal has. There is no danger to Spenser."
"You're lying." Jason stated, Eric nodded. "Is this guy one of your moles or informants or whatever?"
"He's an asset."
"Why us Mandy?" Jason pushed. "Front up honesty or I'm walking out that door and we aren't coming back."
"Atwal doesn't speak English." She began, but apparently not fast enough to satisfy Jason.
"Let me tell you how it'll go." Jason spun around, tossed a wadded-up ball of paper into a trash can. "We'll go, we'll land, we'll arrange transportation, we'll arrive at the meet location, we'll lose Spenser, shit hits the fan, Sonny comes after you and I won't be in the mood to stop him."
"Then make sure you don't lose Spenser."
"You've never tried to watch him." Eric shook his head. "Not that easy Ellis. It's impossible. Whenever the op or job or mission you send us on requires his 'language skills', shit goes south. Every god damn fucking time."
Us, not them. Didn't Eric's choice of words just push her buttons.
"Thought you had a way to track him now." Mandy shot back. "Didn't we spend a fortune on that technology? An expense granted to Bravo that put noses out of joint on the other teams?"
"Oh, we do." Jason said softly. "And we did. Your agency didn't spend a dime so don't you dare throw that in my face. Knowing where he is and getting him back before he's tortured and beaten to hell ain't as easy as finding him once he's been taken."
"And if I call in a favor and force you to take this mission?"
The room went silent and still.
"Don't threaten me with that. Don't you dare." Jason warned, pushing to his feet so suddenly and with such force, the chair spun violently on its axis. "You really won't like me if you ever force a pet mission on us."
Mandy pursed her lips, turned her back. No, she would never do that. She'd just wanted to see Jason's reaction. And it was exactly what she expected it to be.
We're done here." Jason walked to the door. "Take Charlie's third unit."
"And if I told you Atwal might have in his possession, information on the network of rebels responsible for taking Brock and Clay in Syria?"
Jason stopped, hand on the door handle, he turned, not to Mandy, but to the one person in the room who he trusted without doubt, the one man who had never lied to him.
"Blackburn? That true?"
"First I'm hearing of it." Eric glared at Mandy. They hadn't been on the best of terms since Mexico.
"It's possible, not confirmed." Mandy acknowledged.
"Playing on my need for revenge?" Jason asked Mandy. "Low blow."
"I'm not beyond it."
"Could have led with that bit of bait." Eric taunted. "Or call it what it is...emotional blackmail."
"You still haven't answered, why us?" Jason pushed, feeling the shift of mood in the room. "Why is Spenser so important to this mission? Why not an interpreter?"
She pulled up a picture on the large screen on the wall. "Atwal is staying in this village. He doesn't know someone is coming to get him. He may or may not come willingly."
"Why do you want him out? He has more info than Syria, I'm guessing." Jason still hadn't opened the door.
"He's a source of information Jason. That's all you need to know."
Jason and Eric stared at one another, neither blinked, neither nodded, just stared. They weren't likely to get any more information from Mandy.
"Your call." Eric said finally. "But I don't like it."
Jason opened the door. His men hadn't gone far, he called them in. Three came willingly, Sonny didn't even get up.
"Sonny, team vote." Jason waited. "Sonny."
"Knew we shouldn't have left you alone with her." Sonny stared at the floor, elbows on his knees. "How'd she talk you into it?"
"She claims Atwal might have information on the network of rebels that took Brock and Clay in Syria."
That got Sonny's attention. He mentally corrected the statement to; took Brock and beat the shit out of Clay. He stood up, remembered he was supposed to be mad, sat back down, jounced his knee.
"She tells you that now?" Trent wasn't in a forgiving mood. He just wanted to go home. "Not liking her head games Boss." He entered the room, Brock behind him.
Boss? Wow, Trent was pretty pissed.
Jason waited, didn't want to push. Sonny finally thumped his knees with the heels of his fists, got to his feet, entered the briefing room.
"You and me brother." Ray poked Jason in the chest. "We're gonna have a talk."
"Emma call?"
"She sent a text. The hell Jay? The hell is Spenser doing at your house?"
"Kid doing okay?"
"If you mean Spenser, she says got up around 10:30, still bleeding. Bleeding from where Jason? Why isn't he at his place? You said he wasn't coming tonight because he wasn't feeling well. No one questioned it, 'cause yeah, bet he does feel like shit after a kick in the crotch not even a day ago." He smacked his forehead with an open palm. "Right, oh yeah, forgot he was, you know, sliced open with a knife capable of gutting him on a dirty street."
"Can we do this later Ray?"
"How about now?"
"He was sleeping when we landed. Had to wake him up to leave. He fell out of the hammock, loosened the stitches."
"That's why we strap in, we land."
"He didn't fall because of a rough landing." Jason said impatiently. "He's sore, he was stiff, he hurts."
"But your daughter?"
"You don't trust him with her?" Jason countered.
"It's not about Clay!" Ray began but Eric came to the door, waved them in. Jason went, so Ray had no choice but to follow. The door closed the door behind them and they all resumed their seats.
Mandy went over the information again. No one had questions, no one even spoke.
"I'm gonna say it." Sonny said. "Miz Ellis, we lose that kid, he gets taken, he stubs a toe, anything happens to him, you best not be on our flight home."
Mandy looked at Jason for support, expected a reprimand for Sonny, but none came.
"Are we agreed then?" Eric asked. Hadn't he asked this question, like hours ago?
Jason pushed with his heels, backed his chair away, foot-walked it until both Sonny and Ray were between him and Trent.
"That's gonna be up to Trent." Ray added. "Right Jay?"
"Say what now?" Eric stared.
"Yeah, about that." Jason hemmed and hawed. "Kid was asleep when we landed. We left him alone while we unloaded, but when we were ready to leave, we had to wake him up."
Trent doodled, chin cupped in his hand.
"He fell out of the hammock, loosened the stitches."
Trent bobbed his head, said nothing.
"You said he wasn't here tonight because he wasn't feeling well." Mandy accused.
"He's at my house." Jason sent her a glare, continued. "I took him to the clinic, the doc on duty said though he'd torn some loose, he hadn't torn any out, sent him home on Motrin. Yeah, Mandy, he feels like shit."
"Mebbe you forgot." Sonny couldn't help but add fuel to the fire. "He was walking down the street, minding his own business, when a fanatic tried to stab him in the back. This, after you tell us all's clear, take the night off, have a good time. Remember any of this Miz Ellis? Thank the dog there, the kid only was sliced, de-jeweled and beaten up."
"Sonny, not helping." Ray said.
"Don't care."
"Not quite how I recall it Sonny." Mandy shot back. "You weren't there. The dog attacked the woman..."
"Riiiiight...Cerb, you naughty dog, bad you for carrying a knife and trying to stab our kid. Shame."
"He attacked because she was wielding a knife." Brock was on his feet. "He saw it, we didn't. Clay got between them so the dog wasn't stabbed. You weren't there." He mimicked her condescending tone. "I was. Cerb saved our lives, Clay saved his. Boss, I'll do whatever you decide, but just know, I'm not doing her any favors." He waited, Jason nodded. "We done here?"
"You can go." Eric said. Sonny went with him. "Way to go Mandy, you managed to piss off the most easy-going affable Seal the Navy has ever seen."
Trent warred. He wanted to demand Jason take him home so he could see Clay for himself, but the doctor he'd seen was competent. Right?
"He slept through the unloading? Didn't wake up on his own?" Trent stood up, that didn't sound right. He glanced at his watch. "Bring him to doc in the morning."
"Wait, so, you're saying...you are agreeing to go, or not?" Mandy asked.
"Not up to us." Jason said, everyone was filing out of the room, he and Eric the last to leave.
She fumed but she was all alone in the room.
***000***
Linda met Jason in the kitchen when he got home around two a.m. He sighed, not up to a confrontation with his Mom over Clay in the house.
"Hey." Linda came into the kitchen. "You hungry?" She began to peel an orange. "Do you have to leave again?"
"Maybe."
Linda was quiet, pulled the orange into pieces, set them on a plate, pushed it across the island.
"Why is there a sick man in your son's room? You never brought your men home before."
"Life kicks you in the gut, you get through it however you can."
Ouch, she knew that tone. Okay then, now was not the time to push. She waited to see if Jason would eat, he did.
"What do you mean, sick?" Jason demanded, licked juice off his fingers. "He's not sick," he scowled. "Is he?"
Linda raised an eyebrow, handed him a napkin. "I raised you. I know a sick boy when I see one." Wasn't that why Jason had brought him home?
"When did you see him?" Jason demanded, ate another piece of orange. "Was he up?"
"Was he shot?" She countered.
"What?" Jason exclaimed. "NO!"
"But he's hurt." She pressed.
"Our job is violent, we get hurt."
Linda tossed the orange peels into the trash, began to cut an apple into slices - red not green. Oh, she knew her son. When agitated - feed Jason Hayes.
"He was up half an hour or so ago." She put the apple slices on the empty plate. "Favors his right side."
"He's not sick." Jason munched on the apple, accepted a cookie. "Least, he wasn't. Hell, I don't know."
"Hurt then." Linda poured a glass of milk. She wouldn't argue with her know-it-all son about his men, but the boy sleeping in the bunk beneath her grandson was ill. "How bad?"
Jason shrugged, accepted the milk. "Not serious."
"He saw a doctor?"
Jason dunked his cookie, watched his Mom spread peanut butter on a couple of the apple slices. "He did."
"After you came home? But not when he was hurt?" He shook his head, nodded. She patted his hand. "Will you go on this mission, if he can't go?"
Jason sighed. "The kid has a knack for languages, speaks several fluently. This mission calls for that skill. If he can't go, there's no need for us to go either."
"When do you have to leave?"
"Not right away." Jason hedged. "Hey." He greeted when Clay came into the room. "You up again?"
Clay shrugged. Again? So, either Emma or Linda had ratted him out. Probably both.
"Com'ere." Jason muttered around the peanut butter covered apple wedge between his teeth. "Lemme see."
Clay obediently stood beside Jason, raised his arm over his head, let Jason push the hem of his t-shirt up, looked away when Jason cursed at the blood-spotted bandage.
"Still?" Jason maneuvered the wedge into his mouth, chewed. He poked, prodded, kneaded. "Sore?"
"Mmmhmm." Linda tut-tutted. Area, location, square bandage. "Knife?"
Clay glanced at her surprised, stepped away from Jason's poking fingers, let his shirt fall.
"Don't look at me like that." Linda snorted. "I raised him." She pointed her knife at Jason. "He came home many a time, sliced, stabbed, shot."
Ignoring his mother, Jason asked. "Hurt much?"
"No."
Jason watched him, tried to determine if the kid was lying. "Still bleeding?"
Clay nodded, repeated Emma's words. "Doesn't want to scab over."
"Trent doesn't have you on anything, does he?" Jason's mind raced, but search as he might, he was unable to come up with Trent, at any time, saying he'd given the kid any medication other than ibuprofen.
"No, what was tonight about?"
"Mandy." Jason bit out, offered Clay a cookie, he shook his head, took a slice of apple right off Jason's plate.
Linda's eyes widened, she turned away with a cough to cover her amazement. The last time someone - family, mind you - had tried to steal food from Jason's plate, they'd been stabbed with a fork.
"Water?" Linda offered Clay.
Before he could accept or refuse, Jason was shaking his head. "Give him Gatorade." He told his mother. She opened the fridge, removed the first bottle, jumped when Jason let out a startled yelp. "Not red." He said, tone normal.
Clay didn't even bother to argue, it was useless to keep trying to convince his team red Gatorade didn't make him puke. "What does she want us to do this time?"
"Go to Jordan and escort an asset out of a village."
If Jason was going to speak freely in front of his mother, Clay wasn't going to watch his tongue either.
"Not our usual kind of job."
"He, uh, supposedly has information on the network of rebels that took you and Brock in Syria."
Linda faltered. Taken? As in, hostage? This young man? Oh dear.
Clay froze, then slowly uncapped the bottle of clear Gatorade Zero. "Sonny bit on that, huh?"
"Oh, hell yeah."
"So, when do we go?"
"Dunno." Jason handed him another slice of apple with peanut butter, he took it. "Mandy wants us because you speak the language and Atwal doesn't know he's going to be leaving. He may or may not come willingly."
Clay's hand went to his side. Jason didn't miss the gesture.
"Bravo can still go." Clay knew Sonny wasn't the only member of Bravo who wanted revenge on whoever had been the mastermind behind Brock's abduction. Jason wanted it just as badly. "Take an interpreter."
"Mandy's against that...no, I don't know why. She isn't sharing, as usual."
Clay really wasn't in the mood to do any favors for Mandy Ellis. Not after their last mission.
"Trent wants to see you at doc's in the morning. You get any sleep?"
"Yeah, don't let him glue me."
"Glue you?" Linda repeated.
"Dermabond." Jason explained. "Makes him itch."
"You'd rather suffer the pain of stitches than the mild itching of glue?" Linda shook her head. "Men."
"Nuh-uh Mom." Jason grinned. "Nothing's ever mild with this one." He got up, took down the first aid kit, opened it, patted the counter. "Have a seat."
Clay used his hands to easily hoist himself onto the counter, raised his shirt, let Jason remove the bandage.
"Good Lord Jason, that's infected." She peered over her son's shoulder. "When did this happen?" She looked at the first aid kit. "Where did you get this?" Some items she knew, others she guessed at. Some were individually wrapped, some small, others large. "Not found at your local drug store, I bet." She held a packet. "Nor this."
"Bleeding stop at all?" Jason ignored his mother, reached around Clay, turned the spigot on, soaked a wash rag. Clay bit his lip, terry cloth was rough, he didn't like it.
"No, let up though."
"Arm up." Jason wrung excess water from the rag, nudged Clay's knees part, stood between his legs to get a good look without having to squat down. "Man, Clay, didn't think it was that bad." he held the rag on bare skin against the stitches. It was cold, made Clay quiver, goose bumps appeared. "That quack said you were fine."
"Have a care." Linda chided her son. "You don't have a light hand Jason, go easy on him."
"Find me the styptic powder."
"Isn't that used when you clip a dog's nails to short and it bleeds?"
"Yup."
"Then why..." Linda sighed. Right, to stop bleeding. Somehow, she doubted the styptic powder in this kit was the same as what was used on dogs.
Jason had access to hospital grade supplies and medications and apparently, he knew how to use them.
Clay fidgeted, squirmed to remain still while Jason rubbed, dabbed, applied pressure, then rubbed and dabbed some more, applied pressure again.
"Damn kid, you can bruise." Jason pinched skin, made the wound ooze around the stitches.
"She could land a punch...OW!" He jerked, heels kicked against the cupboard door. "Jeez...sus!" He didn't yelp, aware the kids slept, but damn! He blinked, eyes moist.
All a sudden, he felt worse than he had since Trent had tended his injuries and doc had declared him fit to fly home. He'd had enough…..the last twenty-four hours had wiped him out. He wanted nothing more than to just rest his forehead against Jason's shoulder, let his boss hold the back of his neck with a warm hand, submit to the comfort that would be offered.
He didn't.
Clay swallowed, bit his lip. Yow, never had stitches hurt so much before. Course, he'd never torn any loose before either. Had he? Wait...no...maybe...aw, hell, he couldn't remember.
"This might sting." Jason warned, Linda held out the opened jar. "Mom, find me the med tape. It looks like butterfly Band-Aids...yup, that's it. Thanks."
Linda didn't fuss or comment but her set mouth and frown told Jason he was going to hear about it later.
A sharp hiss, a couple ow's and ooh's, a blank stare at the ceiling and Clay managed the sting - pain - of the anti-hemorrhagic powder. A word Jason never would have tried to pronounce, but Linda read the bottle.
"Geesch Jason, this is used in surgical procedures!"
"Bah." Jason blew her off. "Works anywhere." He packed the powder down with two fingers, his touch light, rubbed small circles, dusted the excess off, applied the butter fly Band-Aids, taped on a clean bandage.
Linda gave Clay a sympathetic smile, collected trash, returned various items to the med kit.
"Crash on the couch, you want." Jason told Clay. "You good?"
"Yeah," he hesitated, slid off the counter. "You told Trent?"
"Did you doubt I would?"
Clay hung his head, shook it slightly.
"Take that shirt off." Linda held her hand out. "It's stained and wet."
"I'm good."
Jason left the kitchen. It was likely the only shirt Clay had with him and he didn't want to run around the house without one. He returned with a sweatshirt.
"Want some Tylenol? You've had enough ibuprofen tonight."
No, he didn't want Tylenol, he wanted something stronger, but it wasn't offered, so he nodded, took the two capsules, changed shirts and returned to Mikey's room with the bottle of Gatorade.
"He's running a fever." Linda remarked. "The boy is flushed."
"I know." Jason kissed her cheek. "Go to bed."