Summer stood with the two drivers, didn't know what to do. He barely knew Seth. Yes, he was sharing quarters with the support team, of which Seth was part of, but there were fifteen of them and he didn't know them all that well yet. Heck, he wouldn't have known to fetch Seth and bring him with them if Clay hadn't told him to do so.

So, each member of support had a 'specialty' or a 'set skill'. Who knew? He should probably, 'cause, come on, Bravo had their own doc and pilot and driver and mechanic, wouldn't expect anything less from the great Jason Hayes.

"Say what?" Summer asked stupidly.

Seth grinned, shrugged. "When Clay first joined Bravo, they, uh, had habit of losing him."

"Good God." Clay blew his breath out, rolled his eyes. "Not that again."

"What are you doing out here Clay?" Seth asked, kicked himself for not thinking to ask that earlier. "You look like shit."

"Bad light." Clay joked tiredly. God, he wanted to take Seth's suggestion, climb into the truck cab, huddle around the heat vent. He looked at his watch, tried to calculate the time they'd been gone from base, added in the time it had taken to unload the first truck. "Ten minutes?" Or less until Bravo's arrival.

He looked at Seth who nodded, "Tops. Now get in the cab." Seth said again, looked at Summer to back him up. "We'll begin to transfer the load. Maybe without all the weight on it, whatever Jason comes in can help pull the truck free."

Seth left the job of making Clay obey to get out of the cold to Summer and joined the two drivers to transfer the load. Even with the arrival of additional man-power and perhaps a more powerful vehicle with a higher towing capacity, Seth doubted they'd be able to free the truck until they lightened its load. It was just too heavy.

"You sure someone's coming?" Summer asked.

"Bet on it." Clay said. Jason might be pissed at him, but Bravo's leader would never leave any of his men and he had a tendency to get really cranky when he didn't know where Clay was. And if Clay had left base without Jason's permission or knowledge – in this case, both – the boss would come after him.

Summer shrugged, moved off, assumed Clay would find his way into the cab of the truck on his own.

Not even five minutes later, the loud rumbling of approaching vehicles was heard and seconds later, headlights of not one, not two, but three off-road Humvee's broke the darkness.

Wow! Okay, yeah, Summer had sorta believed both Clay and Seth when they'd said Bravo would come, but he hadn't expected Jason to come with the entire Bravo support team. He wondered how in the minutes it had to have taken to get here so soon, he'd managed to scramble the team, gear up and be ready to go.

The lead Humvee pulled around, stopped, the passenger side doors opened and Jason and Sonny spilled out. Ray and Trent came around the front of the vehicle, Brock from the back.

"What we got?" Jason asked.

"Can't fix it, tried to tow it, too heavy, it's stuck." Summer said when Seth stood quietly. Where the hell was Clay? He should be the one giving his boss answers to his questions. Maybe he'd fallen asleep.

"Sonny?"

Sonny walked around the stuck truck, looked in the back at the load, asked the driver what he was carrying, ducked and looked at the axles and wheels and bumpers, the undercarriage.

"We ain't pulling it out with that weight." Sonny reported. Summer huffed, he'd just said that! "Need to lighten it."

Jason turned, whistled and all the Humvee's emptied. Within seconds, Bravo support was quickly and efficiently transferring the cargo.

"Where is he?" Trent asked.

"Check the cab." Summer replied when it became obvious Trent was talking to him. It was the last mention of Clay's whereabouts he could remember. And it had been less than five minutes ago, where else would he be?

Trent didn't move. Summer became aware of the hostile stares. Activity between the two trucks continued as support and the two drivers continued moving cases and boxes, but Bravo stood around him, stared and waited.

Bewildered, Summer asked. "What?"

"The man asked you where the kid was." Sonny began, Ray extended an arm to keep him back. "We wouldn't ask, if we hadn't looked for him."

Summer rolled his eyes, stepped forward, opened the door of the truck, swung it wide, stood back and executed a perfect, mocking butler's bow; with one arm behind his back, he bent forward, made a sweeping arc at the truck with the other.

"I give you, your kid." He dripped sarcasm, disgust. Good Grief but this group of highly trained, dangerous, skilled men could carry on - over nothing.

Silence. No one even moved. Summer straightened up, slowly turned to look in the cab...no one was on the seat or on the floor...it was empty. What the hell?

"You let him out of your sight, didn't you?" Brock broke the silence, shook his head. "Told you not to do that." He opened the Humvee's back door and Cerberus, wearing protective booties and a warm vest jumped to the ground.

Summer rolled his eyes. Good Christ. It was just a dog.

"Find Clay." Brock told Cerberus who was off leash.

"You and me." Sonny growled. "You. And. Me."

Summer stood his ground, spread his arms wide in a; 'fuck you, here I am, come and get me gesture.'

The dog trotted in circles, nose to the ground, went one way, then the other. Darted back and forth between the trucks, circled around back to Brock, barked and trotted to the driver's side of the truck Clay was supposed to be in, paused, looked back, took off at a run.

"Guess he went that way." Ray stated the obvious.

Jason whistled, activity stopped. Everyone turned to look at Bravo's leader, waited for instruction and ten seconds later, half of support was armed, bore flashlights and had spread out in search of Bravo's missing kid. Seth walked off with Jason and Trent.

"The hell?" Summer muttered. Really? Leave the ammo behind and send most everyone to search for one man who more than likely had walked behind a tree to take a leak? The two drivers and the remaining men from the support team had already resumed moving cargo. Summer was annoyed they were left to do it when ample help was out there wasting time looking for Spenser who would probably wander back on his own, but whatever.

"You don't have the history with him we do." Ray said quietly. Summer hadn't realized Ray had remained behind. "I don't know how the hell he ended up out here with you, but Kairos, we've all told you, if he's with you - and only you - keep him with you."

"Seth's here."

"It's not on Seth, it's on you." Ray pointed out. "You're Bravo, he's support. If you weren't here, then yeah, it falls on Seth." He shook his head. Jason was going to have one hell of a time reining Sonny in after this. He let it go, moved on, needed to be ready to be on the road with all the ammo and cargo when Bravo returned with Clay. "Chris, what truck do you want to use to try and pull this one free? Load light enough, you think?"

Summer wanted to know how half of the support team knew to stay and half knew to go with Jason, so he asked.

"The team is split." Ray answered. "Half responds to orders when Jason raises his left hand, the other half responds when he raises his right hand."

All that answer did was leave Summer wondering how they knew what the orders were when none were spoken but decided he'd pushed his luck enough for the moment, so he let it go. Maybe whatever hand Jason raised meant that half of the team was with him. Summer would need to know these things, but yeah, later. Right now, everyone was focused on finding Spenser, transferring the ammo, freeing the truck and returning safely to base.

() () ()

Not wanting Bravo to find him lollygagging while the others worked, Clay had started to climb out of the truck. He'd lost his grip when his hurt hand cramped, ended up sitting on his ass in the snow, and there he stayed gearing up to find the strength to gain his feet and face the wrath of Jason who he expected any minute.

He was sure he heard the distant sound of approaching motors so he pushed his heels into a chunk of snow to use the momentum to push off and up to his feet and stand when he was grabbed from behind. At first, he didn't fight, thinking it was Seth but when he ever so slowly looked up, he saw two masked men and the 'fight or flight' lessons drilled into him during training, kicked in.

He chose fight, because yeah, fleeing wasn't an option.

Perhaps if he wasn't so tired, perhaps if he didn't feel like shit, perhaps if he were dressed for the weather, perhaps if he wasn't so cold, perhaps if he'd come out here armed, perhaps if he hadn't unloaded heavy cargo from a truck half an hour or so ago, perhaps if he'd eaten a hot meal, perhaps if he wasn't so weak, perhaps if he didn't feel so worn out...he might have had a chance.

If he yelled, Seth and Summer would come running, but neither were armed. The truck drivers were armed but Clay couldn't count on them to come running and he doubted Seth or Summer would think to take their weapons when they came in answer to his call. He wondered what these men wanted? The ammo? The truck? An American Soldier? Would they approach the truck? Should he warn the others?

The distant rumbling of the approaching trucks was louder, Bravo was close...all he had to do was hold them off until help arrived….he could do it, he would do it.

He didn't do it.

Two against one wouldn't have been much of a problem for Clay, if he hadn't been worn out and freezing, still they didn't take him easily.

He shook off the fist to his eye that snapped his head back, kept his feet. The fist to his mouth split his lip, drew blood. He bit his cheek when his head whipped to the side. A fist to the gut swooshed the breath right out of him. He grunted, doubled over. The time to call for help had passed, he no longer had the breath to yell, but he was still on his feet.

Perhaps if he hadn't been clubbed in the back of his head behind his left ear, he might have been able to hold off the attack until Bravo got there. All he had to do was yelp and Brock would release Cerberus, the team's fastest member, who would race to his side...but pain exploded in his head, making him see burst of lights, his ears rang and he fell face-forward into the snow.

() () ()

Summer was startled when he heard the dog attack. He'd been raised with dogs; knew their different barks and growls. This was no warning growl, this was an outright attack. He knew the exact moment the dog bit and broke skin because the human yelp overrode the vicious growling. Where the hell had the dog found someone to attack out here?

He spun around when he heard gun fire. The hell?!

"JASON?!" Ray shouted. "Stay." He commanded the men attaching more chains to the truck from one of the Humvee's, when they paused, looked up. "Defensive positions." He added when there was more rapid gun fire.

Summer froze, what the hell was going on? Ray had remained to protect the trucks and the cargo but the way he was pacing, staring in the direction of the commotion, told Summer he wanted to do more than simply stare in that direction. Ray wanted to bolt after his team, but he obeyed whatever order he'd been given.

"NOT AGAIN!" Sonny yelled. "SONOFABITCH!"

Not again what, Summer thought. He couldn't believe the activity wasn't far away at all. He easily pieced together what had happened. Someone had gotten near enough to the trucks to take Spenser and he hadn't heard a god-damn thing. It didn't make him feel any better that Seth and the two drivers hadn't either, he should have heard or sensed something.

"SPENSER?" Ray yelled.

Summer felt his stomach knot, his spine tingled.

Where was Clay? Did someone have him? Why? Who? Summer swallowed hard, hands clenched into fists. He looked at the cab, the cab where Clay Spenser was supposed to be. Not good. Not good.

"They'll get him." Ray muttered to Chris. "Ain't letting him get taken again. This time, we're here." He sent four of the seven men Jason had left behind, out to see what was going on.

"Taken by whom?" Summer felt a mite better knowing Ray hadn't completely panicked, so no reason for him to. He felt sick. If Bravo hadn't come after Spenser - for whatever reason, he didn't even care right now - then the trucks would likely have been attacked. He'd have lost the cargo. "What if it's a diversion to get the ammo?" He asked Ray.

"They can have it." Ray responded. "They don't get Spenser."

Summer didn't agree with that, but he didn't lead the team, wasn't even second in command. Still, he didn't know if he could just stand aside and let thieves take off with a truck load of ammo because everyone was out looking for Clay.

"LET'S MOVE!" Ray yelled. "Get that truck out!"

() () ()

Sonny crouched on the tree limb, prayed to some Saint or another that it was strong enough to hold his weight. From the ground, Bravo couldn't see where the men who had taken Clay hunkered down. They were out-numbered but they hadn't tried to flee or surrender. They'd retreated and held their ground, firing back at Bravo, who, in the dark were at a disadvantage because while they knew the men had an unconscious Clay, they couldn't see him.

Davis had warned them a storm was coming, blizzard, most likely, and it interfered with communications, so they were without comms. Which was usual when Clay was missing. It was so common anymore Bravo couldn't even get disgusted about it. So yeah, a blizzard, previously 'not-predicted' was just about right in this situation and more than anything, Sonny wanted to be back on base, Clay in his possession when it hit.

Brock was below him, asked what he could see, did he know anything?

"Yeah." Sonny whispered. "They holed up in a ravine and….. SHIT!" Sonny ignored the danger of standing on an icy tree branch more than ten feet off the ground that might not support his weight, rose to his full height. "Snowmobiles coming…..GO! GO NOW!" He shouldered his machine gun, said a prayer that their kid could get himself safely hidden and laid cover.

Shit, Jason thought, as Sonny let loose. The men had hunkered down and waited for reinforcements – a way out. They didn't want a fight, they wanted to flee and somehow, he doubted they'd be willing to leave Clay behind. There went any hope it was the ammo they were after.

Yeah, well, they were taking off with Clay over his dead body. And Sonny's, Trent's, Brock's…hell, everyone. Ducking, he lowered his head and ran forward.

Ray heard the eruption of gun fire, knew when the smoke bombs were thrown, the bang-bombs…Jesus Christ! How many hostiles were out there? What did they want? Bravo was launching a full-on attack…..why? A desperate effort to get Clay back? Or had they found Clay….dead?

"JASON?!"

Clay was lifted, carried, tossed into something hard and cold. He was just beginning to stir when an engine revved and the floor beneath his cheek vibrated, the noise so loud, his aching head revolted, splitting his skull into two and he went limp.

Sonny cursed….Bravo had circled around, closed off the route the snowmobiles had come, their only way out now, was directly below the tree where he was perched. He watched them toss Clay into a sled pulled behind one of the snowmobiles…come on, come on…..come this way….he dared them…..and they did.

He crouched, gun tossed aside, waited….waited….waited…..jumped….landed on the two men on the snowmobile as it zoomed beneath him….his weight combined with the distance he fell and the speed of the snowmobile knocked both men off of it, upended the sled, sent Clay tumbling and left Sonny sprawled and dazed.

Take their kid again? Over his dead body!

Kenny and Karl were there, ignored Sonny, focused on taking the two men into custody. Brock was there, ignored Sonny, focused on Clay, but the fight wasn't over and everyone's first priority was staying alive and letting no one get taken.

Clay groaned, fought his way back to consciousness with reluctance and resistance. He didn't want to wake up…..it hurt to even think about it, but he knew gun fire when he heard it. Sluggishly, he thought he should find his rifle, take position and…..do something. But he couldn't. He didn't know how or what, just knew he should do...it.

He was on his stomach, tried to push up with his hands, failed. Tried to dig his toes into the ground, pull his knees to his stomach, failed. The snow was too soft, he was too cold, the noise, every sound, was too loud, the lights were sporadic…..was he seeing lights because his head was spazzing or because fireworks were going off? Whatever, he wasn't moving.

He tried to roll over but that didn't happen either. Okay, here was good….no need to move…..oh...a nudge, a lick, a wet nose. Soft whimpering, a warm tongue, more nudging, a head butt. The whimpering became a whine, the whine a growl, paws pawed at his shoulder, dug at the snow around him. A furry head wedged its way under his chin, nudged, licked his cheek, his eye, his ear.

A weight on his back, a tug on the ass of his jeans…a dog would nose and nudge wherever he could reach until he received the response he was looking for. Cerberus was all over Clay, jumping from one side to the other. Walked on his back, his thighs, his shoulders. Wormed his head under Clay's hood, licked the back of his neck – whine, whimpered, growled, until finally, Clay flopped onto his back and then Cerberus was all over him licking and lapping until, finally laying down on his chest and resting his snout on Clay's exposed neck.

From there, he dared anyone to come anywhere near his human and walk away with all skin intact. This human was part of his pack, and he protected his pack.

() () ()

Over half the cargo transferred, Chris driving the Humvee, and the driver of the recently loaded truck driving it, the stuck truck finally was pulled free. Ray ordered everyone to load up. The Humvee was detached and the two trucks were security chained together for a tow back to base.

All they needed to head out was the rest of Bravo.

A sharp whistle, the sound of heavy, thudding feet and the warmth on Clay's chest shifted. He reached with his bad hand for the furry weight but grasped nothing and his hand fell into the snow with a plop. Cerberus was on his feet, standing over Clay, barking incessantly...and with each bark, a needle stabbed his skull just behind his ear.

"CLAY?" Snow sprayed across his chest, landed on his face. "CLAY?! CLAY?! DAMMIT MAN, TALK TO ME! CLAY!" Clay lay at the bottom of a short but steep hill, the yelling came from above him. "MOVE! DAMN YOU!"

He knew that voice. It meant strength, protection, safety. It was a voice he was conditioned to respond to and it prompted him into immediate action. He rolled to his side, then his belly, got his knees beneath him, managed to rock and sway unsteadily on all fours.

"CLAY! GIVE ME YOUR HAND! COME ON! GIVE ME YOUR HAND!"

Cerberus came up under his arm, nudged at his chin, nosed his shoulder. Clay got it, he did, the dog wanted him to move, he knew he had to, the urgency and desperation in the voice told him he had to, but it was hard….so hard….too hard.

Jason was staggered half way down the bank, anchored by Kenny holding his left arm, who was anchored by Karl holding his left arm….a human chain. Gun fire continued over their heads as members of Bravo attempted to hold off the approach of some kind of armored snow vehicle, steadily making its way to Clay's location.

If Jason didn't get a hold of Clay and drag him up the hill, they'd most likely lose him to whoever was intent on taking him. Jason didn't get it. These men were out-numbered, why didn't they simply give up on taking Clay and just flee? No other Bravo team member was in danger of being kidnapped, just Clay, so maybe it was just a soldier they wanted and wouldn't easily give up.

Cerberus was barking in his ear, the white world around him turned dark, the decibel level behind his ability to tolerate.

"Gah!" He winced in pain, going down on one elbow. The barking stopped and licking his cheek resumed. Cerberus ran around him in a circle, dashed behind him, pushed with his head against Clay's left buttock.

"TAKE MY HAND DAMN YOU!"

Cerberus now had his sleeve in his jaws, was tugging, tail wagging, low growl encouraging Clay to move forward.

That's it human, forward. Go forward. Help is right there. Take his hand. You must go. You must…you are hurt, they are here to help you. Come my friend, time to go. You cannot stay here.

Clay twisted his fingers into the thick fur, Cerberus instantly stilled, waited for Clay to grab hold of his vest. Clay gained his knees, crawled forward, reached out blindly for the extended hand with the waggling fingers, missed, tried a second time…he was caught, the grip strong. He was dragged forward, snow and gravel and rock dislodged, pelted around him as he was dragged up the bank on his belly by one hand, scrabbling with his knees.

He reached level ground, collapsed, remained sprawled as he fell, but he wasn't left alone. Multiple hands reached for him and soon, he was moving again, this time, carried in the arms of someone he knew and trusted.

"I've got ya." Jason said gruffly. Clay was jostled, gathered, picked up, hugged, lifted completely off the ground – and none-to-gently either. When he squirmed, he was hoisted, his feet were picked up and he was juggled backwards into the arms of whoever held him.

He lacked coordination, couldn't open his eyes or make his hands do what he wanted them to, but he knew who had him so he went limp and let them carry him. The arms that held him were cold, but the promised warmth had him snuggling into their strength and comfort. His head lolled to the side, chin to his chest, his cheek nestled against a sleeve.

He heard a door open and suddenly hot air was blowing in his face. He was held, then shifted to someone else, finally lowered into someone's lap. He fought briefly, murmuring a protest and made a half-hearted attempt to pull away and sit up, but his effort was no more than a shrug of a shoulder and a limp wave. Didn't matter, he was firmly held so he gave in, let his weight become lax and heavy, submitted.

Trent soon had Clay's boots off, then his wet jeans, then the long johns. He unzipped the kids coat, tossed his gloves, worked his arms out of the sleeves while Jason held him, paused at the appearance of his sliced, bruised, bloody palm, pulled the coat from beneath him. Summer, ordered into the heated Humvee by Jason, sat and watched, drank hot coffee poured into a lid from a thermos.

"Trent?" Ray stood on the running board, opened the door, popped his head in. "How is he?"

"Should get him inside." He muttered around the flashlight he held with his teeth. He was happy that though Clay was cold to touch, his lips weren't blue, his teeth chattered and he shivered. "Clay, hey, you know me? Who am I?"

His cheek was smacked, smacked a second time, harder the third time. He wanted to tell them to stop slapping him but didn't have the strength to speak, managed to turn his head, only to have this other cheek smacked.

"D'n't."

"Who am I?" Trent held his chin, squeezed. Didn't want to shake his head until he knew the extent of all injuries. "Hey, Clay...say my name."

"T'en'ch."

Close enough. "Deep breaths." Trent ordered. "Who's holding you?"

Clay tilted his head up, moved it to the left, saw Summer, who he didn't recognize, snuggled closer to Jason who leaned forward into Clay's direct line of vision and looked down. "O'ss."

"Sonny need me?" Trent asked Ray.

"He's with Brock. Kenny and Karl are with them. Nothing broken, he's conscious." Which translated to; see to Clay first, Sonny can wait.

Trent felt Clay's pulse, counted, nodded. The kid was slightly confused, sluggish, slow to respond but his breathing was normal, pulse was normal. "Hold my hand." He ordered.

He didn't hold his own out, waited for Clay to raise his hand and find it. He didn't. When Trent held Clay's hand and squeezed, Clay didn't squeeze back. Trent raised Clay's hand, let go. It promptly dropped. Slightly clumsy, mild fumbling. Worrisome, but not cause for panic. That time would come after they warmed him up and he didn't respond.

"Okay, ok." Trent toweled Clay's hair, it wasn't wet, but his bangs curled damply. He paused when Clay cried out, probed with his fingers for the cause, found the fist-sized lump, sighed, left it alone. He rubbed Clay's cheeks briskly with the towel, then pulled a battery-heated hat over his head, down to cover his ears. He didn't care what science said or what facts had been proven and what research and data supported...you didn't go outside with a wet head. You caught your death, Grandma said so.

Ray pulled his head out of the Humvee, closed the door, jumped down. Trent soon had warm, dry, heated socks on Clay's feet, pulled him away from Jason, ignored his squawk of protest.

"Can you pick him up?" Trent asked Jason, who in his cramped position, shook his head. There simply wasn't enough room. "Summer, take him a minute."

Summer blinked, do what?

"Hold him." Trent said impatiently. "I want this under him so I can pull it around his shoulders."

Summer shrugged, okay, whatever. He finished the coffee in the lid - which pissed Trent off - set it aside, got up, hunched over and reached to pick Clay up from the seat…..yeah, Clay wasn't having it. Though he couldn't open his eyes completely, he was able to part his lashes and he didn't know this person. He was big, the space confined and Clay had no intention of letting this guy anywhere near him.

"Heyheyheyhey." Trent shushed him as Clay fought against letting Summer touch him. "Okay, okay." He motioned Summer away, watched Clay find Jason's sleeve and get a firm, tight two-fisted grip. Yeah, he wasn't letting go of Jason anytime soon. "Easy. Take it easy." He murmured.

"That's new." Jason commented, twisting and contorting himself into an uncomfortable position to maneuver Clay away from him so Trent could sling a large, oversize parka around his shoulders and zip it up to his chin without bothering to put his arms through the sleeves. He winced...yeah, he was in great shape, but no human body was meant to bend into this position on the backseat of a military off-road Humvee - not even those Chinese acrobats who could twist themselves into the shape of a pretzel.

"He doesn't know him." Trent bundled a blanket around Clay's shoulders, waited for Jason to twist back around, go up on his knees and lift Clay from the seat, then pulled the blanket down his back, around his hips and covered his legs, tucking it tightly around him until he was cocooned.

"He have coffee?" Jason asked once Clay had settled down in his lap. He and Clay were on the seat, Trent knelt in the foot-well but he didn't even notice. Trent hesitated, shrugged.

"Can try. There's chicken broth. He usually likes it better." Trent opened the door. "Gimme five."

Summer dug out the various thermoses. He knew which one had coffee, but there were several others.

"Green one." Jason told Summer. He took it when Summer held it out. With his lap full of shivering Clay, his arms were hampered, their movement limited, but he juggled and twisted and managed to uncap the thermos and pour its contents into the lid.

Trent had gone to check on Sonny, but Jason thought Summer should have at least offered to put down his now refilled cup and help him open the thermos.

"Thanks bud." He spit sarcastically. "I got it." He set the open thermos on the floor, held the lid to Clay's lips. Summer just shrugged, drank his coffee and watched. He expected Clay to dig his hands out, take the cup, but nope. "Clay? Hey kid, want this?"

Clay could smell it, coffee. Hot, strong coffee. Not that he could recall or know it, but it was decaf with cream, no sugar. Trent wouldn't want him having caffeine for a while, would want him to sleep. He was cold, wanted the coffee, but his hands didn't obey his commands to rise and hold the cup. Hell, he wasn't even sure he was giving them a command, he just knew he wanted the coffee.

"I've got it." Jason said quietly. "Let me."

The door opened, the dog jumped in, Brock climbed in, Trent behind him. Brock picked up the open thermos, took a drink, settled himself on the seat, Clay's feet in his lap. Chris got behind the wheel, someone hopped in the passenger seat, the other seats filled, and with a full occupancy, Chris pulled out.

"Sonny good?" Jason asked Trent, who nodded, helped himself to one of the thermoses. He drank some coffee, offered a full cup to Jason, then opened another thermos.

Clay stirred as the tantalizing scent of chicken soup filled the Humvee. His head rolled on Jason's stomach and he pulled away from the cup of coffee he'd been sipping from.

"Smell good?" Trent teased, "Bet it does." He knelt in the foot-well again. "Here, you go." He offered Clay the hot broth, pleased when he drank it, swallowed and accepted more.

"He's hurt." Jason stated.

"Can wait until we get to the infirmary," Trent replied. "Black eye, split lip, huge knot behind his left ear."

"Clubbed over the head?" Jason asked.

"Mmmm, yeah. No concussion."

"You don't sound happy about that." Brock commented.

Trent shrugged. "This is Clay. He heals quickly, shakes off an injury like no one else, but he's gonna hurt. His night is gonna suck."

Jason was quiet, moved his foot to an odd angle so the dog had a place to sit. Trent had to smack Summer's leg repeatedly to make him so the same. "You think he's so sluggish because of the cold? Or because they gave him something?"

Trent shrugged, made a face. "It's Clay."

Fuck.

"We brought three back alive...I'll beat it out of someone." Jason assured Trent.