"Whatcha thinking about?" Ray asked, breaking the silence of a good ten minutes. "Talk to me."
They were sitting outside. They had showered and changed, had dinner. Sonny had remained in the barracks, Brock had gone off with Cerberus, Trent had been called to help Doc with an apparently cranky, unhappy Clay.
"Nate."
Ray did a double take. Wow. Hadn't expected that. "Uh, Nate? Kinda outta the blue."
"I thought we were the best unit out there. The six of us." Jason continued. "Biggest, baddest...best."
"We were." Ray confirmed, watched Jason shake his head. "We weren't?"
"You think so? No weak link?"
"No." Ray said firmly. "Don't do this Jason."
"I trusted Nate with my life."
"We all did." Ray stated. "And we weren't wrong."
"No." Jason agreed. "Hurt like hell when we lost him. But now? Now, I see what we were...uh, lacking. On a mission, we were all that mattered: tight, together, cohesive, operated as one. But at home? Nate was never that close to Sonny, was he? Or Brock." He snorted. "And Trent?"
Ray was quiet. Sonny didn't let anyone close. Brock and Trent were a match set. He and Jason were tight. That had pretty much left Nate on his own.
Jason stared up at the night sky, was quiet.
Nate had allowed Trent to tend injuries in the field when necessary, but when possible, he'd always waited until they returned to the base or quarters and sought a doctor. Jason had never really given it much thought before. It was just the way it was. Trent had never been offended, Sonny would rather Nate be somewhere else and Brock went with the flow.
But now? Pfft. Now they had Clay. And he didn't have a problem with Trent as the team's medic. Verbal confirmation wasn't required, the kid's actions were proof.
But with the arrival of Clay, had come the need for Doc, a full support team - well, Bravo had always had that, just hadn't always needed to take them everywhere they went - GPS tracking system...
"...Trent can be brutal Jay. You know that. It's why you wanted him. He keeps his head and doesn't care how much he hurts you to save your ass. He's cold and harsh…." Ray paused. And the best damn medic out there. "He doesn't have a problem with Clay, finds the kid a challenge."
Don't we all?
"That kid gets to everyone." Jason agreed. "And why is that? He argues with Sonny over experience. He questions my authority. He bucks your lead. He blatantly shows his dislike for Mandy. He butts heads with everyone." He scratched his beard. Except Brock...maybe Trent. Silence resumed, Jason finally broke it. "We didn't even see him in that room Ray. All that money on the means to track him and we..." He took a drink. "And we thought he was a fucking pile of trash. You know how that made me feel? I had to see how bad he was hurt, know what was wrong, couldn't leave him. All he was supposed to do was convince Atwal to leave."
"Don't do this Jay. Don't feel guilt, it's not on you, what happened." Ray'd been in that room too. He'd argued with Randy over where Clay was supposed to be.
"I wanted him with us." Jason admitted. "Once we lost him, I didn't even care about the mission, the information about Syria, I only wanted him back." He shook his head. "Can't do that."
"You wanted the information Atwal has."
"I wanted to come on this mission and because I trust him, I wanted him with us. I never know if an interpreter is honest or telling me everything."
"We all wanted him with us."
Jason was quiet, opened another beer. Ray waited. There was more.
"My Mom's all pissed he was at the house, that I left him alone with Emma, and there was a time, I never would have done that. Why'd I do that? Why, Ray? He's...What is it about him?"
Because, thought Ray, under that exterior cockiness and arrogance, the kid's lonely. Has lost everyone he attached to - either by death, break-up or emotional distance.
"It...it hurts Ray. He doesn't...I mean, he always...we...he's never turned away from me before. Usually, I want to slap that smirk off his face. Throw him into a wall. Man, he can piss me off." Jason set the bottle on the wall, wiped his hands down his face, fingertips lingering on his closed eyelids. "Then something like this happens and...it….it…it's like when the kids were little and I'd come home and they'd come running…Emma would just know I was going to pick her up and she'd cling so tight, I wouldn't have to hold her. She'd wrap her hands around my neck and sit on my hip...when he's hurt, he has that same trust Ray. That belief we'll make it all better, will help him, just by being with him and today….today…..he didn't respond to me and I don't want him to ever feel anything will break that trust, you know?"
Ray nodded, sat shoulder to shoulder with Jason, drinking beer on a decorative wall not made to sit on. His ass was numb, his legs tingled, yet there he sat.
"Hell...I mean, fuck Ray, he'll lay in your lap, let you hold him...he reaches for you and holds tight...looks up, sees you and it's like he knows everything will be okay because you're with him. He sees Trent and the relief on his face makes everything we went through to get him back, worth it."
"And now, he doesn't want us." Ray kicked his heels against the wall. Clay hadn't responded that way at all when they'd finally found him this time and it had thrown everyone. "He wants Brock." Well, Brock had been who Clay responded to this time. What would they do if the kid turned away from them? How would they handle it, if the kid decided to leave the team?
"What's with that shit?"
If Ray didn't know better, he'd swear Jason was pouting, but he did know better, didn't he?
"He flashing back to that room they were held in together?" Ray questioned. "Wasn't that long ago Jay. Brock was the only one of us there for him."
"With him." Jason corrected with a glare. "Dunno."
"Kid's had a tough year Jay. Don't matter how strong he is, he's been dealt some heavy blows and they just keep coming."
"He didn't want to come here."
"No one made him."
"Yeah, we kinda did." Jason now stared out into the dark night. "We get home, he's going on med leave."
"Kentucky?"
Jason snorted. "Fuck no. Not letting him out of my sight." He finished his beer. "I'll ask Blackburn to take us off rotation, should get a month home."
"Wait, what?"
"I didn't take any time after Alana died. I have leave coming."
"You took..." Ray began. The mission had come during Alana's funeral, for God's sake. No one blamed Jason for not spinning out with the rest of Bravo. Then, they'd lost Adam and Jason had gone on the next mission. "Wow, you're taking leave with him?"
"What, you don't want time home with the family?"
Ray'd had it, when he'd been unofficially, temporarily kicked off Bravo...and oh, Mandy wouldn't like it. Oh, wait. Jason had already had Blackburn 'send Mandy away'. Not that it had taken much to twist Eric's arm. He hadn't been happy with Mandy since Mexico. Maybe they did all need a break.
"I have a week Ray, that's all." He certainly couldn't claim bereavement leave after so much time had passed. "Think Trent's earned two."
"Jay, Brock said he was given twelve weeks."
"And after four, if he still wants to go to Kentucky, I might think about letting him go." Jason slid off the wall, tossed his empty bottles into a recycle bin. "I'm going in."
Ray shook his head. Just because Clay had been given twelve weeks, didn't mean he had to take all of them. Jason would succeed in obtaining Bravo leave for a week, grounded to base for a month, so yeah, once Bravo was back on rotation, Jason might be okay if Clay went to visit family.
***000***
Clay blew his breath out, felt the moisture blow back on his face. Man, he hated oxygen masks. Hated them. Yeah, yeah, he knew what it was, didn't need to open his eyes or see a mirror or feel with his hand to know. And yeah, that meant he knew where he was. He wasn't happy about that either. He hated being in the hospital. You'd think he'd get used to it, accept it, given his job and all. But no. That was never going to happen.
He kicked at the blanket, feeling warm. His hand itched, skin drawn tight. Ugh. Knew that feeling. IV port and tape.
He felt a flash of irritation. It was Trent's job to keep him out of the hospital...bang up job there, Trent old buddy. He blew out another deep breath. No, that wasn't fair. Or true. It was Trent's job to keep Clay alive until his team got him to a hospital.
Well then, Trent had done his job 'cause here Clay was; trussed up with needles and tubes and monitors and leads and oxygen and whatnot. Ugh.
He raised a hand to pull the mask from his face, but the pull of the IV tubing came up short and he let his hand fall back to the mattress. Fine, fine. He had two hands and his right was free, though for some reason, he just didn't want to move it. He tried, he could, but yeah, he was happy with that arm right where it was, tucked against his side, which now he had acknowledged it, began to stab him.
Ow.
Small, tiny, sharp repeated pokes that would not stop, increased in frequency, became downright painful. He squirmed, seeking relief from the, uh, discomfort. Huh, ow, wow. That was some serious stinging! Okay, yeah, right, he'd had enough.
Digging deep, calling on his training, he swiped the mask off his face, sat up, braced his feet against the mattress and reached for the IV in the back of his left hand. Oh yeah baby, his right hand worked just fine! He was getting the hell outta here.
"No, you don't."
His ankles were grabbed and he was pulled down the bed. It took only a one-handed shove on his shoulder and he was once again sprawled on his back. His hand was slapped, caught, returned to his side.
He growled in frustration. As fast as he'd been, Trent had been faster.
"Not a chance you're gonna beat me in your condition." Trent gave him a smarmy smirk. "You're not going anywhere until your heart rate is normal and you're breathing on your own."
"I don't need..." Clay began, winced when the oxygen mask mashed against his nose. He simply glared as Trent lifted his head and let the elastic band snap behind his ears.
"Yeah, you do."
"Aah, he's awake?" Doc popped out of nowhere, flashlight in hand. "Welcome back young Spenser. Relax, relax. Don't know how you continue to come out of these escapades like you do, but you sure do manage to escape serious injury." He paused. "Painful though, I bet."
Clay rolled his head on the pillow, snorted in disgust. Didn't feel like he'd escaped injury. And hell yeah, it was painful. His side and hip were trying to kill him - again.
"Head hurt?" Doc asked.
Well, now it did! Just had to go and call attention to it! Clay scowled as his head joined the attempt to end his life. Hell, working together with his side, they just might succeed.
"Helmet took a fatal blow." Trent said quietly. "Saved your life."
Clay shrugged, that meant nothing to him and he didn't care to try and figure it out. He tolerated thumbs prying his eyes open and the flashing light that split his skull from his skin. Holy Shit!
Training made him obey commands to look left, right, up, down, all around, follow the light. It caused him some discomfort, downright pain, but Doc was happy, finally made the light go away.
"Good, good." Doc nattered to himself. He pulled the mask away from Clay's mouth, asked him several questions. Clay was able to answer most accurately; his name, date of birth, who the president was, who Trent was; missed verifying where he was and what day it was but Doc was satisfied, replaced the mask.
"How you feeling?" Trent asked. "Not so good, I bet?"
Clay thought about it, shook his head. Trent was right, he felt awful.
"We fly home, you're admitted to the hospital." Doc informed him.
Clay squawked in protest, but really, he was too tired to put up much of a fight. He'd deal with it later, when they landed. No one could make him go to the hospital, he didn't want to go.
Yeah, oh Jason would have something to say about that.
"You're on several meds." Trent explained. "Pain med, antiemetic, antibiotic, steroid. Not sure what you might have swallowed. The asshat wasn't gentle or careful, packed mud and dirt deep into your side."
"Through muscle. You're gonna be sore awhile." Doc said. "You up to some visitors?"
No, Clay thought. He didn't want to see anyone until he could think and talk and follow a conversation.
"Just Jason." Trent could tell Clay's emotions were all over the place. "The guys can see him after he's had some sleep."
Clay nodded. He was okay with that.
He expected Jason to charge in, all orders and demands but Jason entered quietly, held to the bed rails of Clay's bed, said nothing.
"He's okay Jason." Trent said finally. "Bit out of it."
"This never should have happened."
"That's for another time." Doc said briskly. "He's responding well to the medication. I expect him to come off the oxygen within the next four hours. I'd say come morning, we can fly home. Or maybe tomorrow night. Those stitches need to stay tight this time. No hammock. Gonna need some PT, exercises to strengthen the muscle."
"Support will stay behind." Jason said. "Still helping with rescue and relief efforts."
Clay frowned. All he'd heard was stay behind. He mumbled behind the mask, became agitated.
"Not you." Trent pinched Clay's toes. "We're not leaving you behind. We're all flying home with you."
Clay nodded, relaxed. His eyes closed, ready to go to sleep.
"You're done. Someone is going to listen to me." Doc announced. "He's done. Whether he wants it or not, whether you agree to it or not, he's on med leave."
"He is?" Jason looked up, but didn't look mad. Doc hadn't expected that.
"I am?" Clay muffed, eyes widening then falling closed.
"I'll see him again four weeks after he's released from the hospital." Doc was typing on a laptop. Oh-oh. So, not Clay's med file. That was on Doc's clipboard. "It's uploaded, it's sent. McCall will get an email. Officer-Operator Spenser, you're off Bravo's rotation."
Clay didn't know how he felt about that.
"Twelve weeks?" Jason asked.
"Sure." Doc agreed.
Clay reached for the mask. Trent sighed, smacked his hand away.
"Doesn't have to be twelve weeks. See Doc in four and we'll go from there." Trent told him.
"Blackburn can ground us for four weeks. I have a week's leave, can take it when he's released from the hospital." Jason told Trent. "You can have two, you've earned it. We go back on rotation, we'll send him off to his aunt's."
Trent nodded. "Or Janine will keep him."
Hey, right here! Clay thought drowsily. Bravo grounded meant they'd be home, but go to work on base. Clay would be on med leave, but PT would be on base, and work-outs could be with his team. Sounded like a plan to him.
() () ()
Clay came awake, moving uneasily at a cramp in his hip. The IV meds kept his pain muted but he wasn't comfortable. His head hurt, his hip hurt, he was sweaty, his right side was hot and puffy and he swore he could feel the swelling.
He couldn't of course, but yeah, sure as hell felt like he did.
Off oxygen and breathing on his own, his throat was dry, swallowing hurt and he wanted...
"Hey."
The spoon of desired ice nudged his lips and what he wanted was provided upon the mere thought. His tongue darted out in seek of the moisture before he could tell it to stop...that was a mighty husky 'hey' and the nurse was all spice and everything nice.
Maybe it was Doc? Clay swallowed with a wince, wiped the trace of pain from his face, opened one eye. His beard had been trimmed, why he didn't know but he knew one of the reasons he kept it bushy and unkempt was because without it, he looked sixteen.
And his facial expressions were too easily read.
"More?"
Brock.
Clay sighed. What the hell, why fight it? It wasn't Sonny, who would tease him for life, so he let his friggin' teammate feed him frozen slivers of 7Up off a plastic spoon because he was thirsty and his throat hurt and...he was that fucking miserable.
Brock patiently spooned ice slivers until Clay finally had enough. Good thing too, because Brock would have to go get more, there was only a spoon or two left.
"You with me?" Brock asked quietly. "Thought you'd be asleep."
Trent had returned to barracks and told his teammates that Clay was fine: concussion, no brain injury; internal stitches, no serious damage; he was medicated, would sleep until morning and had gone to bed.
"Hey." Clay croaked. "Kinda...late, isn't it?"
Brock gave him a sympathetic smile. Kid's throat must still hurt. Well, of course it did. It's why he wanted the ice - it was cold and felt good.
"You doing okay?"
"I've felt better." Clay admitted.
"Concussion, ether, turpentine." Brock waggled three fingers. "What is it with you?"
"I in trouble?" Though, he kinda thought maybe if he were, it would be Jason here and the Boss wouldn't be patient about giving Clay ice chips.
"For what?"
Clay shrugged. Someone would find something to yell at him for. "Dunno. Don't remember much after hitting the rocks."
"Trent's pissed but not at you. He hates medical care over here and Ray's sympathetic to it. Mandy, uh, left the country. He was pretty hot over the wife and kid. Sonny's pissed over the lack of weather information. Had we known about the recent rain or the sudden family, we would have made different plans." Brock pulled at the blanket, Clay didn't stop him, let him pull it away, move his gown aside "None of us wanted anything to do with this mission until she played Jason with information on Syria. Swelling's gone down. Must feel better."
Clay was quiet, played with the IV tube until Brock smacked his hand away. Yeah, no, really didn't feel any better at all.
"Kinda sucks, you know? You speak the language but weren't in any condition to walk away before they could, uh, treat you." Torture came to mind, but he didn't say it.
"But you had to come get me." Clay bit his lip, shifted his weight. He pretty much ached everywhere, the hours he'd spent struggling to breathe had left his chest and sides sore from the effort.
"And?" Brock prompted. Oh, if only the kid knew what they'd gone through to find him, get him back. "We don't run Clay, we don't back down. No matter what anyone says." He was quiet, moved the tubing out of Clay's reach. "Just, one thing," he grinned. "Remember I told you, stay put, we'll find you, come get you?"
Clay nodded, broke out in a fresh seat, his side began to throb. He was reluctant to ask for more pain meds, scared of becoming dependent on them. He took them so often anymore, it wouldn't be hard to become addicted. He sighed, would have to talk to Doc about it.
"Next time..." And there would be a next time. "Get yourself somewhere safe first, okay?" Brock picked up the nearly empty cup. "I'll get you some more."
"Could you..." he hesitated, hated asking his team to do something for him. He remembered going by truck and hiking to the village because air hadn't been cleared, yet remembered being in a chopper. That had probably cost Blackburn one hell of a compromise. "I don't remember where I was or how I got there." He finished lamely.
"What do you need?" Brock demanded, ignored Clay's attempt to deflect he wanted something. "Talk to me, don't shut me out."
"These ice packs aren't cold anymore." Clay wouldn't look at him.
Brock took them and with a squeeze to Clay's knee, left the room and went in search of a nurse or medic.
"Hi there." She greeted. "New ice packs huh? More 7Up?"
"How's he doing?" Brock followed her, watched her remove an ice tray from the freezer, smack the frozen 7Up ice cubes with a small hammer, wondered how she knew Clay liked fizz and flavored ice. Didn't matter.
"Aah, vitals are good, breathing on his own, low-grade fever, pain's manageable. Bit restless though, doesn't sleep well." She poured 7Up into the ice tray, put it back in the freezer. "He doesn't like being here but knows he's in no condition to leave."
Brock recalled Katie fussing Clay only slept good when Brock was home. Uh, maybe she hadn't been imagining things after all.
"It okay, I stay a while? See if he settles down any?"
"Sure. I'll be in every half hour or so. Stay as long as you like."
"Thanks." Brock took the cup of ice, the two cold packs and returned to Clay's room. Wondered why, no matter how big a man was, he looked small and fragile in a hospital bed. "Here you go." He set the cup on the table, pushed the blanket aside, laid an ice pack over the bandage wrapped completely around Clay's stomach. "They sure have you trussed up. Here?" He moved the ice pack around until Clay nodded he'd hit the right spot.
"Yeah, thanks." He squirmed, blushed. "Uh, I had a pillow...under my hip..."
"Right here, you squirm too much, lift your ass." Brock fluffed the pillow. "Good?" Clay nodded, relaxed. "You up to talking?"
"About?"
Brock pulled up a chair, sat down. Clay was tired, fighting sleep, so he'd be quick.
"I'm sorry."
Clay blinked, held the second ice pack to his attacking head. Man, his skull really wanted out. "For what?" The cold compress would eventually wrestle his head into submission. Maybe then he could get some sleep.
"Talking you into coming on this mission."
"You didn't. I made my own decision."
"Maybe. Just..." It was too early for this conversation, but it was killing Brock not knowing. "Trent said Doc's gonna admit you." Clay nodded, he was still wasn't on board with that plan even if Trent and Jason were. "But you have your twelve weeks of med leave, you want them. Do you?"
Clay was quiet. "I'm coming back Brock."
"Not leaving the team?"
"Can't get rid of me that easily."
"Wanna come home with me after they release you?"
His throat soothed, the ice packs subduing the throbbing in his head and side, Clay was half asleep.
"'K." He muttered.
Satisfied, Brock turned the chair, found the remote - not that hard at all, it was on a leash for God's sake - switched the TV on and got as comfortable as he could in the not-made-for-comfort chair.
If staying a while ensured Clay would get some sleep, he'd suffer through bad TV, a numb butt, cramped thighs without too much complaining.
***000***
Sonny finished his third beer, eyed his fourth. He wanted - needed - whiskey but Jason had vetoed hard liquor for everyone. Yeah, the flight home from Jordan - Hell - had been that hard.
Tempers had been sort, moods pissy. Trent hadn't yet made up with Ray and Sonny still wasn't any too happy with Trent. Brock had been subdued, Jason distant.
Yeah, they'd all pretty much avoided each other.
Clay had been unsettled, in pain, unable to sleep, forbidden to get up and walk, which was all he'd wanted to do. Doc had put him back on oxygen, increased his pain meds, administered a sedative, but nothing had helped the kid settle down and by the time they'd landed, everyone had been on edge.
Clay settled in the hospital, Eric had ordered everyone home...and now, a good day or so later, they had met up to discuss what they were going to do once Clay was released and on med leave.
It wasn't going well.
"HAYES!"
Everyone turned, looked, but didn't get up. Members of Support were among the crowd, began to group near the table where Bravo sat, drinking beers and hashing out their issues with one another.
"A word with you." Ash Spenser pushed through the throng of people crowding the bar. "Who the hell do you think you are?"
Jason sighed, put his beer down, sat forward, bottle cupped between his hands, elbows on the table. "Spenser." Oh yeah, he'd known this was coming.
"You're gonna bar me from the hospital? You?" Oh, Ash was seething. Having found out that his son had returned from a mission injured badly enough, he'd been hospitalized, he'd rushed to the hospital, only to be told visitors to Special Warfare Operator Clay Spenser were restricted by the orders of Master Chief Jason Hayes. When the words: Sorry sir, your name isn't on the list and you aren't granted admittance had caused him to rant he was the boy's father; security had 'politely' escorted him out of the hospital. "If I want to see my son, I will. You're not going to stop me."
"I already did." Jason replied calmly. "Long as that kid's in the hospital, you're not getting near him."
"You're not barred from the hospital." Eric added disdainfully. "Just the 7th floor."
"Drama Queen, much?" Sonny muttered into this mug.
"You have no right to keep me from seeing my son."
"He doesn't want to see you." Jason said. "He calls you when he's home, then you can go see him."
"This is a battle you really don't want." Ash threatened. "You have no idea how loyal my boy is."
Guffaws sounded around the table, beer bottles and mugs tinked together in a toast. They didn't know how loyal Clay was!? Bahwahhah! The kid was in the hospital because he'd saved a dog, then went on a mission he never should have left for, chose to ensure a kids safety over his own and allowed himself to be caught in a mudslide.
"Oh, it's a fight I'm looking forward to." Jason said softly.
"Yeah, well, you know what Hayes? You like your career too much. You're not gonna come after me. You wouldn't blow it. I know you."
Jason curled one side of his mouth in a sneer, pushed to his feet, stalked closer to Ash. "You know me? I ever choose to put you down, you're not gonna know I'm coming. I'm not gonna confront you in a public place of your choice. I'm a hot-head, but I'm not stupid." He leaned closer, now nose to nose with his rookie's father. "I know how to find you anywhere, anytime. I'm only going to say this once: Leave that kid alone. Stay away from him. There's not a man here who won't make you regret coming near him again."
"Is that a threat?"
"A threat, a promise, a vow."
"Yeah, okay, time to go Jay." Ray stood up, slid an arm around Jason's stomach, pushed him back a step. "Come on."
"You going to let him get away with that?" Ash asked Eric who simply pursed his lips, stared him down, didn't even get to his feet.
"Eric has a hearing problem." Trent spoke up.
Ash blinked, turning to look at the medic. Oh, he knew who every member of Bravo was, what they did, their position. They neither scared nor intimidated him, but calling their Lieutenant Commander by his first name knocked him for a loop. Wow.
"What's the matter Ash?" Sonny drawled, fingers tightening around the handle of his heavy mug. Oh, it would make a mighty fine weapon, were he to swing the heavy, thick glass at the asshole's head. "Your son find something you never had?" He smirked when Ash looked confused. "You know, a unit that has his back? Anyone from yours still talk to you?"
"You won't succeed in keeping me away from him." Ash stated. "I am his father, he will not cut me out of his life."
"He's gonna be okay, nice of you to ask how he's doing." Trent smirked. "And if you think you're gonna badger him about family loyalty and respect a son owes his old man while he's down, good luck with that." Down = emotionally vulnerable. Yeah, Ash got the message.
Ash flushed in anger. He'd meant to ask how Clay was, what his injuries were, how serious it was, but one look at Jason's mocking face and Ash had wanted to punch him.
"Time for you to leave." Eric said, commanded. "You're not welcome here."
"It's a public place." Ash responded. "When is he being released?"
"No idea." Jason said flippantly. "Ain't the doc."
"I'll catch up with him at his apartment." Ash turned to leave.
"Yeah," Brock chortled. "You do that."
That wasn't going to happen any time soon.
Ash clenched his fists but continued to walk away. So, they were determined to keep him away from his son until Clay was back on his feet.
He'd just see about that.
***END***