"You again." Doc jovially greeted Clay. "What happened? You were fit and fine when we left to come home. I said so myself."

Clay gave him a half-hearted smile, slight shrug, said nothing.

'Huh." Doc looked at Jason over the lack-luster response from Clay. He wasn't used to seeing Clay looking so down and forlorn. The man fought through pain and discomfort like no other. "Okay then, hop up on the table." He watched Clay move, noticed the hitch in his step, the hesitation, the bit bottom lip. "Know what Chief, why don't you step out? Kid doesn't need you here. Give us, say, oh half an hour?"

Clay was quiet. Jason had let him sleep in until he'd woken up on his own, so it was early afternoon, not morning because after Jason had gotten home, Clay had finally been able to fall asleep. Maybe it was because Jason had tended his wound, the bleeding had stopped and the pain had eased, maybe it was because with the sweatshirt and added blanket, he'd finally been warm, or maybe, it was just because Jason was home.

Linda had made omelets for lunch but he hadn't woken up feeling all that great, hadn't had much of an appetite, managed only a bite or two and a slice of toast. Jason had denied him coffee and the orange juice had soured his already unsettled stomach.

He now knew why Emma always heard everyone talk. You could hear any conversation in the kitchen from the bathroom she shared with Mikey, even with the door closed. He'd been brushing his teeth, had skipped taking a shower and was just sitting on the tub, waiting for his stomach to either rebel or settle when he'd heard Linda yak at Jason in the kitchen.

()

"I didn't say anything last night, it was late and you were tired, but Jason, you can't bring those men into this house."

"Excuse me?"

"Yes, yes. He's polite and well-mannered, but look at him Jason. He's going to turn the eye of any young girl."

"Not Emma."

"Yes, Emma. His physical appearance, the allure of his clandestine job. The mystery of what he is. What he does for a living."

"What I do." Jason corrected.

"Brutality, violence, viciousness. Your job calls for you to be cruel and savage, crude and lewd, not qualities a young girl should admire."

"Okay, stop. Just stop. Emma has been raised with what I do. She doesn't know details, but she's not stupid. She handles it. She sees Clay as one of my men, nothing more. If...IF, she were to have a crush on him or become infatuated, he would politely and firmly, shut her down. I trust him in this house and with her life, in her life. End of story."

"Jason..."

"He's family Mom. It doesn't matter what that kid does or what he puts me through...and Jesus, what he puts me through. You see all this grey? Yeah, blame him. This is over and I don't wanna hear about it again. I don't turn my back on family and that's what that kid is. You get that?"

"Blind faith? Is that it? Trust, loyalty, just like that?"

"Yeah Mom, just like that."

()

Jason nodded. He'd go to their cages, collect his and Clay's gear, load up the truck. He'd be dropping Clay off at his own apartment, but he'd still want his duffel.

Mandy texted him for the third time that morning, he ignored it, like he had the previous two. He had no answer for her and wouldn't until the doc had one for him. He unlocked his cage, entered and sat down in his favorite sports logo-bearing canvas chair. He always felt peace here, a calm he didn't get anywhere else.

Had they missed something? Trent had stitched Clay up. Doc had declared him fine. They'd flown home and now the kid was trashed. He'd been going non-stop for over a year, one injury after another. Then there was the emotional turmoil in the kid's life; the deaths of Brian and Adam - even Alana, the loss of Stella, the chopper crash, Jason's injury, getting shot...the fucking dick the law said was his dad.

He was still struggling and no matter how patient and supportive the team was, Clay wasn't dealing with it well at all. Trent thought the kid was weighing whether or not to leave the team in order to make his relationship with Stella work. It wouldn't, but there was no telling the kid that. If he went that route, he'd find out for himself, and it would be a long emotional journey that would ultimately end in disappointment. And yes, Jason would be there, waiting. Would take him back.

Thank God for Sonny.

Damn Mandy.

Jason wanted the info Atwal allegedly had. He wanted to go and get it himself but by the look on the doc's face, he wouldn't be giving Clay clearance to fly out anytime soon. He bounced a ball off the opposite wall, played catch. Yeah, he could talk Mandy around and get her to agree to let Bravo take an interpreter, but would the team still want to go? He didn't know the reasoning behind her insistence they take Clay, but he bet it was because as good as Bravo was, they were their best when together...all six of them. And if that was the reason, it wasn't fair to Clay.

Screw her for playing on his need to get the man responsible for taking and hurting two of his men, but she knew him well. It's why they worked so well together. He wasn't blind, Clay didn't have to say it, Jason knew. He was undecided about this mission. Maybe he wouldn't get medical clearance to go. Maybe he would. Did Mandy want him so much, she'd agree to wait for him?

And he knew his team. If Clay couldn't go 'cause Doc benched him, they'd be content to leave him home and go collect this Atwal dude. If Clay didn't want to go...

His phone buzzed. Another text. He sighed, pulled his phone out of his pocket, ready to tell Mandy to fuck off, but it was Brock, not Mandy.

Brock: "Where are you?"
Jason: "Base with Doc."
Brock: "Still? Bring him here."
Jason: "He slept all morning. He's wiped."
Brock: "I know. Bring him here."

What the hell was that all about? Jason sent a 'thumbs up' emoji, put his phone down, resumed his game of bounce-the-ball-off-the-wall-catch-repeat.

()

"Got a good infection going there." Doc popped a thermometer under Clay's tongue. The kid didn't often run a fever, and most times he had, he'd been in the hospital or the infirmary. Walking around with one now was the reason he felt like crap and likely why he was so mopey. It beeped, Doc read it. "101.4." Higher than he'd thought, but not high enough to worry about. Much. Huh. "Get on that, we will."

Clay shrugged, hell, he didn't know. "Don't have to re-stitch, do you?"

"No, I think the butter-fly adhesive should do the trick. Trent wouldn't always have to stitch you, we could use glue on you. Or you know, you didn't bleed so easily. Useless for me to tell you to keep them dry. Just apply new after a shower. Pat, don't rub. You know the drill."

Oh, did he.

"Mandy wants us to go to Jordan."

"Sure, sure." Doc nodded. "In two weeks maybe, or they go without you. You don't want to go with stitches in your side, they aren't coming out for a week. Infection, fever. Yeah, you're grounded." He was writing again. That clipboard went everywhere Doc did. One of these days, Clay was going to get hold of it, see what was really on it. "Again, no muscle or tendon damage, don't know how..." Was he talking to himself, the clipboard or Clay?

And there, the door opened for Clay to ask about med leave. "Uh, Doc," He hesitated. "I know this injury isn't serious..."

"God Bless you, none of yours have been, though some had the potential to be." Doc cut in. "Painful, sore, medication required, sure. Life-threatening? Yup, but you have Trent, so nope."

"If I...wanted to..." He paused, damn this was harder than he'd thought. "You said..."

Doc put down the clipboard, gave Clay his full attention. "Are you finally thinking about my suggestion of taking med leave?" He wasn't surprised. The boy had been attacked, beaten, beaten up, beaten down, stabbed, shot and blown up, taken hostage and kidnapped and drugged and lost; he'd thrown reactions to medications and inoculations...all in the last year or so, and nearly six of those months, Bravo had been grounded due to Jason's head injury.

Other teams had offered to let Clay run with them but Trent had thrown a fucking fit, Jason had flat out refused and Doc had strongly hinted that Clay had been in the same chopper crash as Jason and while not as severely injured as his boss, he didn't need to be rushing off on ops with a team leader he wasn't familiar with.

Clay shrugged, looked out the window for a good minute. Doc waited and finally, Clay nodded.

"Do you want it to begin now? I'll break it to Jason..." Clay thought he almost sounded gleeful.

Bu Clay was shaking his head, "Uh, how long?"

"With your history," Doc waved the clipboard. "I'll sign off on twelve weeks."

Wow, longer than he'd thought. "I'll let you know."

"Now, what's this about going to Jordan? We just got home." Doc began to write again.

"Mandy wants an asset escorted out of his village."

"Why Bravo?"

"I speak the language and he supposedly has information on the rebel network that took Brock in Syria."

Doc paused, really? Oh yeah, no way would Jason just let that go. "And you." Because Clay had certainly been the one who had suffered physically from that abduction.

Clay shrugged. "They took Brock, I was just..."

Doc held a hand up, cut him off. "Now, none of that. Brock wasn't the reason Blackburn had to come up with a way for the Navy to pay for repairs at JoJo's bar. He wasn't the reason Willis left JoJo's head first through a window and he's not the reason Willis is serving a year in the hills of Austria rescuing novice skiers from avalanches due to their own stupidity." He chuckled. "Bravo got their message out there, oh yes indeed they did."

Clay stared. What the hell was Doc talking about? What message?

"Hey." Jason came in without knocking. "He good to go?"

"Home? Yes." Doc retrieved a bottle from a medicine cabinet. "Antibiotic. Safe for you to take."

"To fly out?"

"No." Doc said firmly.

"When?"

"Jesus Jason, you've been stabbed before, beaten to a pulp. You know how the boy feels. While he's running a fever, fighting that infection, the last thing he needs is to swing in a hammock and tromp through the desert."

"Mountains." Jason corrected.

"I'm okay." Clay felt obligated to offer.

"You're not." Doc said sternly. "You need rest." He didn't bring up Clay's request about med leave, it was between doctor and patient. Jason wouldn't see it that way, but Doc didn't care about Jason's feelings. "Trent cleaned that wound thoroughly, I know that, because he's Trent and he doesn't skimp and cut corners with you. You're run down, and you need time to rest and heal."

"When?" Jason persisted.

"I'll see him in a week." Doc dared Jason to push further but the way Clay looked away, his eyes downcast, a slight slump in his shoulders made Jason hold his tongue.

"Okay, you ready to go? Got your duffel in the truck. You need anything from home? Thanks Doc."

"I'm not going home?" Clay asked. He wanted to. Oh, did he want to.

"Brock said to drop you off."

Clay was comfortable at Brock's house which was lived-in and untidy, but clean. Katie was no Alana, no designer fashions and decor. Dogs, and there were three, were allowed everywhere, on the furniture, in the bed. He didn't feel like he had to ask for whatever he wanted or couldn't set a glass on the table. He could help himself to the fridge or linen closet without feeling out of place and awkward. He wouldn't hesitate to ask to borrow a sweatshirt. So, yeah, he could handle staying with Brock. Katie worked odd hours, so he wouldn't see a lot of her, it'd just be him and Brock until Brock flew out with Bravo, then he could go home and sulk while he 'rested and healed'.

Bravo would go on the mission, there was no doubt. Jason would talk Mandy around to taking an interpreter and they'd be off. And after the attitudes he'd received on their last failed mission, he was okay with not going on another op so soon. He was sick to death of being yelled at.

() () ()

"Hey," Brock joined Clay on the back deck. Not ideal weather to be sitting outside, but Katie had turned the outdoor propane fed fire pit on and Clay was wore a coat and hat, so he didn't make an issue over it.

"You spinning out?"

Brock opened a beer, handed Clay a bottle of flavored Life Water.

"Uh," Brock put his feet up, Cerberus came to sit between them. "Not sure what you want to hear."

"Does it matter?"

"What's with you? You're never this moody." And boy, moody he had been.

He'd been at Brock's for three days and other than a comment now and again, Brock hadn't been able to engage Clay in conversation. Mostly, the kid slept and when Brock had mentioned that to Trent - he wasn't worried, of course. Just curious, you see - his teammate had assured him, that with the wound infected, the antibiotics and his body healing from the ass-kicking, knife swipe and the long flight home, sleeping so much was normal.

Katie had scoffed, rolled her eyes. Right, Clay didn't sleep when only she was home with him. He was restless and uneasy and all the tossing and turning made him ache and he'd be up, walking the floor. No, Clay only slept when Brock was in the house. Now, how normal was that? What did Trent have to say about that?

"Dunno. Thinking, I guess. Maybe my head isn't where it should be. I...I don't even know if I want to go Brock. I don't think I do. Maybe it's time I stand down for a while."

Brock was quiet. Where the hell was this coming from? Who the hell had put that thought into his head? Ray, probably.

"I don't think time by yourself is what you need." He said finally, the dog settled between them, quiet with the somber mood between the two humans. "What, stay home and sulk?"

"I'm tired Brock. Of the yelling, the teasing, the snide comments, the dirty looks, everyone being mad at me. Tired of being used and expected to be happy about it. Tired of being the reason Bravo is sent on missions because I speak the language." Clay scratched the dog's ears. "I haven't felt good in weeks, I'm just...tired."

"So, med leave?"

Damn Mandy. Brock understood how she came across to Clay, how he'd see things with her the way he did, but it wasn't Mandy, wasn't who she was. It really wasn't.

Clay nodded, shrugged, blew his breath out. "I called my aunt, she lives in Kentucky..."

"Your aunt?" Brock repeated, startled. He hadn't been aware Clay had any close family.

"Ash's sister. She doesn't have anything to do with him, but never held him against me."

Like others did, do. Brock sighed. Yeah, the kid was judged. Not fair, but it was what it was. And who the hell was mad at him? Why would he think that?

"Six weeks?" Brock asked, stomach tightening. All those late night talks about their kid and not once, had it ever occurred to any of them, he might want to leave Bravo!

"Doc said he would sign off on twelve."

Brock winced. Clay had already talked to Doc, made plans to leave town, that wasn't good. If Clay was taking that much time away from Bravo, leaving Virginia, it would be harder to get him to come back. He wondered when Clay's enlistment was up. Damn. He needed to call Davis, find out.

He chose his next words carefully. He was the only member of Bravo Clay was finally talking to about how he felt, and he didn't want to ruin that.

"Is Stella behind this?" God, please, let him have kept scorn from his tone.

"You mean, did we decide if I left the team, we could work on our relationship?" Clay said despondently. "Not gonna lie, the thought crossed my mind."

Brock was quiet, felt gut-punched. Wow, the kid was really unhappy.

"But no, we haven't discussed it. If she can't accept...I mean...I dunno. I think about it all the time, but she won't...why should I be the one to sacrifice everything?" He finished morosely. "I haven't talked to her since...before, uh Mexico."

"Would it make you happy?"

"Thought it would, now...dunno." Clay shifted his weight to his other hip. His right hip wanted to cramp, he kept his weight on it too long. People were right, time healed all wounds. "So, you guys going?"

"Do you want to go?"

Clay was quiet, head back, eyes closed. Did he? He wanted to know about the rebels who had taken him and Brock but he didn't feel he needed to be on the mission to get Atwal into CIA custody. He resented Mandy for insisting Bravo do the job because he spoke the language. Was so god-damn fucking tired of being used.

"Clay, what's this about?"

"Mandy only wants Bravo because she doesn't trust interpreters on her pet missions."

"That's true." Brock said slowly. "And Jason never tells her no. But Clay, she knows us so well. Maybe not you, you keep a distance from her, between you. She knows what it means to Jason to get the guy behind our abduction."

"Your abduction." Clay corrected. "At what cost though? I was farmed out and left to hang."

Aah, so Clay did blame Mandy for his torture. They'd - Bravo - had thought so. And he could kinda see why the kid would. He'd been blown up on one of her missions. Drugged stupid and nearly kidnapped on the follow-up op. Left home and then sent with a Marine unit on yet another mission where he was left with out back-up, taken hostage and tortured. Yeah, he could see why Clay was gun-shy about Mandy missions.

"You don't think that's killing her? Wasn't her fault."

Clay chose to ignore that tidbit. Mandy was not his favorite person. "Are you taking an interpreter and going?"

"No." Brock said, laid a hand on Clay's shoulder, gave it a hard squeeze. "We're not."

"Team vote?" He held his breath, didn't know if he wanted to hear the answer. It mattered and it shouldn't. And it bothered him that it did.

"It was. It's not an ordered mission and we're not going with you hurt." Brock said. "No one wants to go without you. Jason made the decision. Charlie's third team can take an interpreter and go."

Clay was quiet, felt a slight thaw in the pit of his stomach. "But there's no hurry, is there?"

Now Brock was quiet. No, there wasn't. Mandy would wait for Bravo if they said they'd go once Spenser could go with them. If he opted for med leave, Mandy would find an interpreter and go with Bravo. She would do everything she could to avoid taking Charlie's third team, but if that was the only option left to her, she'd take it.

"I dunno what's going on in that head of yours, but Clay, you need to get this straight. We're here and we aren't going anywhere. If you can't accept Mandy puts us before the mission, if you can't wrap your head around that, then wrap it around Jason. Base your belief, your trust on that knife wound in your side...take it as the proof it is, that there is no reason we would ever leave you on your own. Build on it. Build a foundation, one stone at a time. Me, Trent, Sonny, Jason, Ray, Blackburn, Davis - we're all stones. We didn't leave you bleeding in the street, we would never do that. Know there is no order we won't disobey, no authority we won't buck, to come get you. Believe it! You hear me? Believe it."

Clay looked away, blinked, aww man, his eyes were gonna tear up.

"We will never knowingly leave you behind, never not come get you. Doesn't matter what happened or if you were at fault or the reason shit hit the fan. They didn't stop looking for me in Syria, you're no different." Well, he was, he was their kid. And he always found trouble. "Yeah, we yell at you, we get impatient and we might snap and take your head off, just Clay, it's because you scare the shit out of us. We're freaked Clay and we panic. All training and ability to handle our emotions get blown to hell when you're hurt or lost or taken or drugged and we can't get to you or find you or make your pain go away. Yeah, we're asses when we're frantic, but never, not once is that going to affect what we'll do for you. None of that shit matters, you do...you need to get that."

That did it. Clay sniffed, wiping the back of his hand across his left cheek.

They sat shoulder to shoulder in silence for a bit. Katie came to the glass patio door, waved, tapped her watch. Brock nodded. Right, her way of telling him she thought Clay had been outside long enough.

"Was there a fight at a bar called JoJo's?" Clay asked suddenly, rushed, like he was scared to bring the subject up.

Brock blinked, sat forward. "What did you hear about that?"

"Was there?" And all of a sudden, Clay needed to know. He had to know. His entire future with Bravo suddenly depended on it. He didn't know why.

"I wasn't there." Brock said finally. "Was in the hospital with you. It took some digging. Mandy had to call in some favors, Blackburn had to issue some threats, Jason had to kick in some doors, Davis did some dealing, but they got the names of the Marine unit that left you and they, uh, cracked some jaws, skulls."

"By confronting them in a bar?"

"They did."

"And?" Clay pushed. "Why?"

"No one hurts you and gets away with it Clay." Brock gave him an odd look. Did Clay not know that? Did he not understand it? "No one."

"What did they do?"

"Just a fist-fight at a bar." Brock finished his beer, grinned. "Willis left the bar that night head first through a window."

"They were a unit of six. Four of you...?"

"Five." Brock corrected. "Blackburn was with them. Told McCall with two black eyes and one hell of a bruised cheek he had no idea who threw the first punch." Still grinning, he knocked shoulders with Clay.

"McCall accepted that?"

Brock sobered, wow. "No one gets away with hurting you. If that goon hadn't been blown up, he wouldn't have survived to have a trial." He slapped Clay's knee. "The unit was dismantled, Willis was demoted, stripped of rank and reassigned to Austria. Come on, let's go in."

"Who had the clout to make that happen?"

"No one fucks with us." with you. Brock stood up. "Five minutes Clay, then I'm dragging you in."

"Ten." Clay promised.

Brock nodded, and went into the house. Cerberus chose to stay with Clay, jumped into Brock's vacated chair.

Clay stared into the flames, mind twirling and swirling. Okay then, he guessed Bravo was family, they had one another's back - his back. Jason trusted him in his house, alone with his kids. Blackburn had a Marine unit dismantled, members demoted and its leader confined to Austria for an entire year. Sonny, Trent and Ray risked their careers to engage in a bar fight after specifically being ordered not to do so again. The whole team had demanded and received retribution. How the hell could he just walk away from that?

He had approved med leave when - if - he wanted it.

When Doc said he could fly, and if Bravo still wanted to go, and Mandy agreed to wait, he guessed he'd be flying to Jordan.