"Where's he going?" Summer asked. He knew the answer, just wanted it confirmed.
"Why else would he find the doc?" Brock replied waspishly. He was tired, he was anxious, he didn't want Summer in the cabin. "To get medicine."
"He went out in this weather to get liquid Tylenol?" Summer said incredulously. "You can't be serious?"
"Thought you talked to him." Eric sighed to Ray.
And Ray sighed his reply. "Thought I did."
"Is there that big a difference?" Summer continued. "Between liquid and tablets? I can't see it."
"Do you not see him?" Brock waved an arm in Clay's direction, Cerberus instantly at his side, "If liquid Tylenol will help him, then yeah, we'll go out in this weather to get it."
"Don't have kids, do you?" Ray commented dryly.
Summer just looked at him. "If he needs specific medication for whatever is the matter with him, shouldn't you always have it with you?"
"Not another Nate." Eric muttered. Nate who thought anything medical should be Trent's problem and responsibility. He waited for Jason to shut down the soon to be argument but Jason tucked the blanket over Clay's feet, rubbed his calf.
How many times had he done this with his son? Not as many as he'd like, he wasn't home all that much, but when he was, this was one of his favorite positions to sit with Mikey. Jason inhaled deeply, blew his breath out.
"Yeah, with Clay, there's a difference, now shut it down Kairos." Ray ordered.
Summer didn't listen. "I just don't get going out for..."
"Because," Eric pushed to his feet. He rarely, if ever, interfered with Jason or Jason's orders with his men, but tonight, of all nights, he was out of sorts. "The kid is miserable and nothing we have here is making him feel better or making any of this easier for him. I rarely place blame, but this is your fault. We all share our part in this situation but you were given orders to stay with him and you didn't. That...this...his condition...him...is on you."
Summer was silent, not used to being dressed down by someone with Eric's rank. He felt bad, he didn't like seeing Spenser in as much pain and discomfort as he was, but no, he didn't see it as his fault.
"Sonny had to act up..." He began, was cut off by Eric.
"Yeah, Quinn was an ass. Trent went to see him, doc stepped out...YOU left the infirmary, not gonna win this one."
"Not trying to win anything." Summer said exasperated. "I just...don't get the big deal you're all making of this. Everyone gets sick, we've all been hurt..."
"The big deal, asshole, is he left the safety and security of the base because no one he knew was with him." Brock snapped angrily, his tone raising the ire of Cerberus. "He was muddle-headed and you knew it."
Summer had no answer for that. It was the truth. Trent had told him - instructed him - ordered him not to leave Clay alone or let him out of his sight. He had because he hadn't believed Trent...no way to back out of that fuck-up gracefully. He wanted to argue the doc had also left, but the doc had left Clay with Summer, a man Trent had also left Clay with...
"Sonny's pissed Trent had to go talk him into the MRI, leaving Clay alone with you." Jason said, head back, eyes closed. "Trent feels like shit for trusting you. I feel like an ass because I asked him too. Sonny went to get Clay medication because Trent doesn't want his fever to go up. Now sit the fuck down, shut the fuck up and back the fuck off."
"Can't you control that dog?" He scowled, eying Cerberus nervously when he bared his teeth, growled.
"Yeah, guys, hey." Trent had lowered the lanterns, blown out the candles because flickering light bothered Clay. "Sonny's on pain meds, muscle relaxant, keep him to beer."
"For what?" Popped out of Summer's mouth before he could stop it.
"For jumping out of a tree, landing on a moving snowmobile some 10 feet below." Brock snapped, he picked up his coat, put it on. "Dumbass." He muttered, zipping up.
"Wondered why he waved off a second shot." Eric said.
Clay was uneasy, shifting his weight from hip to hip, wiped his face with the blanket, chewed on his split lip, moaned when it stung and he tasted blood.
"Where are you going?" Ray asked.
"I need some air."
"Don't leave the porch." Jason didn't move. "Three minutes Brock."
The dog went with him and as he opened the door, Clay shrank into the depths of the sofa with a murmured protest over the blast of cold air. He tried to sit up, didn't make it, doubled up with a groan, weight on his shoulder.
"You really think liquid Tylenol is going to touch the pain he's in?" Summer asked. Tried to keep the sarcasm from his tone, thought he succeeded. Didn't.
"It's not for the pain." Eric said when no one else bothered to answer. Even Ray was silent. "He's going to have to ride out the headache with tears and whoever is closest for him to hold onto. The Tylenol is for his fever."
Clay swallowed hard, fever? Maybe that's why he felt like, well, like this - you know, shit. He wanted to sit up, but trying to do so made his head double its efforts to break for freedom. It was a fight he was too tired to fight.
He liked his lips, tasted salt. Huh, he was sweating. Right. Fever. It hurt to think straight, and when he tried, his head exploded, so he stopped trying, made a bargain. If his head would just stop its attempts to kill him, he'd let it remain in its rightful position…..whatever sense that made.
He wanted to hold his head, his stomach, settled for a palm against his forehead, an arm over his stomach.
"... should be in the infirmary...take him before storm gets worse..." Clay heard someone argue. The voice wasn't familiar…not the tone, not the timber, not the octave….nothing about that voice sounded…..right. "...why isn't..."
He shook his head. Maybe he did. Thought he did. Maybe he didn't. No, he hadn't. It would have fallen right off if he had, it was so top-heavy. Huh, nope, he didn't think he'd moved at all.
Trent sat down on the coffee table, reached for Clay. "Because he's drugged; Because we have no way of knowing how he's going to respond; Because doc can't give him any medication that I can't; Because we don't dare give him anything because we don't know what kind of reaction he'll throw; Because he won't be content with people he doesn't know;
Because I'm sure as hell not chasing his ass down in a fucking blizzard."
Summer wanted to say, but didn't: Okay, yeah, sure, but you could give him medication, and he if does throw a reaction, what better place to be than the infirmary! AUGH!
"Trent." Ray warned.
"I'm sick of saying it Ray."
"Yeah, okay, look, we're all tired. Been a long day. Jason, time for bed, isn't it?" Ray prompted.
"Go." Trent said. "I'll wait for Sonny."
"We'll take turns watching him." Jason said.
"Not him." Trent muttered, pushing Clay over onto his back, guiding his head to a pillow so he didn't bump it on the arm of the sofa. "You dizzy?"
"No." Jason agreed. "Not him." He adjusted the blanket when Clay kicked his feet out.
Man, how the hell was he going to work this fuck-up out? Brock was pissed, Trent was hot, Sonny was livid and Ray's patience was wearing thin. Summer was an ass.
"No missy." Clay slurred. "Ty ine...nerts." He rolled his head on the pillow, his not-quite-focused one-eyed gaze searching for the one face he knew would offer him relief. "...an...ned. Gawd...snot."
They were all fluent in drugged, doped, drunk Clay-speak, Trent probably the best at it.
"Your eye hurts, I know." Trent said patiently, kid wasn't dizzy. "Sonny went to get you something so you won't feel so hot."
"...an...ned?"
"Yeah, it'll help your head."
"Kid can't catch a break, bashing him in the head wasn't enough." Eric told Ray and Jason. "They had to drug him."
"He probably fought back." Ray said.
"No one else, you know? Chloral Hydrate, really? No one uses that anymore." Eric pushed to his feet to tend the fire. "Trent, I get you anything?"
Trent handed him a dry towel, asked for snow, small chunks of ice. "You wanna get up?" Trent asked Jason.
Jason eased out from under Clay's feet, stood up, stretched his back. Trent settled Clay on the sofa with pillows, warm blankets and a towel of ice and snow against the lump behind his ear.
"Nime….urt-see." Clay smacked his lips, pulled a pout when his split lip pulled and he tasted blood.
"We got beer, water," Jason stared into the mini-fridge. "Coffee."
Trent scowled. "No caffeine."
The door opened and Sonny barreled through. "Shit, it's a fucking blizzard out there." Brock and Cerberus came in with him. He went to the fire to warm his hands after handing Trent a duffel bag from the doc. "Far as Ellis can tell, the attempt to take Spenser was to offer him in exchange for a prisoner here on base."
Ray shook his head. "His luck sometimes."
"Anyone need to hit the jon, do it now." Brock set a bag of snacks Sonny had brought with him on the table, Trent started unpacking it. "Not supposed to slack off until dawn."
"What are you looking for? Tylenol's in the bag from the doc." Sonny said.
"He's thirsty. Davis sent this, there's juice in it for him." Trent said.
"Juice?" Summer said skeptically.
"Yeah, juice. Cranberry, grape, apple. Juice." Trent retorted sarcastically.
"Why would…?" Again, six hostile glares silenced Summer's tongue. "How do you know it's from Davis?"
No one answered him.
Trent resumed his seat on the coffee table with the liquid Tylenol and a glass of cranberry juice Jason had poured and handed him. Clay came up on his elbow to willingly drink the juice, but it took some coaxing, a bit of force, some prodding and Trent holding the bottle to his mouth, before Clay finally parted his lips and tipped his head back and swallowed the mouthful of medicine. More so to relieve the pressure against his split lip then to appease Trent.
"Good?" Trent waited while Clay shuddered over the taste, coughed. "Gonna stay down?"
Clay nodded, slowly went flat, turned to face the back of the sofa. Someone tossed a blanket over him.
"I'll sit up." Trent sent first Jason a look, then Brock.
"Cerb?" Brock called the dogs' attention. "Hey boy." He wagged one of Cerb's toys.
"WOOF!"
"Clay," Brock pointed to sofa, Cerberus thumped his tail against the floor. "No outside. Clay stay."
The dog looked from the sofa to the door to Brock. "WOOF!"
"Good boy." Brock gave him the toy, patted him on the head.
Summer expected the dog to lie down in front of the door, but he retreated to his bed in front of the fire and settled down, both Clay and the door in his line of sight.
"Turn in." Jason ordered. It was after midnight.
"Wait, you're going to let the dog watch him?" Summer asked incredulously. "Like, for real?"
"He's settled down." Eric said, he'd take Clay's bunk. "We'll hear him, anything happens."
"You'll be here." Jason said. "You get to stay up all night, keep the fire going."
"Then shouldn't the dog lie down in front of the door? You know, so Spenser can't make another break for it?"
"You're gonna be on Clay watch." Sonny spat. "Why don't you lie down in front of the fucking freezing door?"
"ENOUGH!" Eric barked. "Bed. Now." His tone brooked no argument. "Jason, you too."
Bravo went.
Despite his grumbling, Sonny agreed to let Trent give him a check-over. Trent followed him to their room.
Summer, alone in the room with Clay and under orders to stay awake, watch him, and keep the fire going, passed behind the sofa, paused to lean over it, looked down at Clay, assumed he was asleep.
A yelp, a shriek, a thud, screams of pain and six men in various stages of undress hit the room...Jason and Brock held guns, Trent followed Sonny, Ray and Eric stalked the room, looking for the threat...Clay was a bug-eyed, panting, shrieking, thrashing bundle of blankets on the floor, wedged between the coffee table and sofa, limbs akimbo.
"THE HELL?" roared Sonny. "YOU ASSHOLE!"
"WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO?" roared Brock.
"BACK OFF!" ordered Trent. He abandoned Sonny as Brock and Jason picked up the coffee table and moved it so Ray and Eric could pick up Clay. Trent tugged the blankets until they pulled free. Clay, no longer hampered by the confinement of tight blankets and surrounded by people he knew and trusted, stopped fighting for his freedom and went limp. Eric, taken off-guard by Clay's dead weight, staggered and ended up on the sofa, Clay sprawled mostly on top of him when Ray dropped the kid's feet onto the cushions.
"Tell me he's ok." Jason ordered.
No blood, that was good. Trent squeezed Clay's bad hand, he muttered an 'ow' but squeezed back. Clay didn't protest while Trent felt him up and down, gently threaded his fingers through the mop of blonde hair, no new lumps or bumps.
"Fell on his ass." Trent finally announced.
"You stay away from him." Sonny was stalking Summer. "What did you do to him?"
"NOTHING!" Summer protested. "I walked behind the sofa!"
"And you stopped, leaned over," Jason guessed. "Don't get close to him Kairos. He doesn't know you, not in the state he's in."
"You're asking for trouble." Ray shook his head. "Don't go near him, got it? Sit over there."
"You wanna leave?" Sonny pointed to the door. "You can make it."
"See to Sonny." Eric told Trent. "I've got...um, he's, uh, got me. I'll take first watch."
Clay had settled down quickly, Trent wasn't surprised, pain had probably helped Clay into slumber and despite his ungainly sprawl on the sofa - half in Eric's lap, leg on the floor, Eric's shirt fisted in one hand, they weren't going to make him move.
Brock settled the dog, tossed the blankets over Clay. Jason handed Eric the towel of ice and snow. Trent herded Sonny to their room and Ray had a quiet word with Summer. Then everyone returned to bed.
The storm raged but the fire kept the cabin warm. No lanterns or candles were lit, Clay didn't like the flickering light, so Summer wasn't able to read. He sat at the table and strained his eye sight playing solitaire with a deck of cards by firelight.
"I'm gonna step out." Summer told Eric, who mumbled sleepily, waved him on.
Summer put on his boots, his coat, stepped outside, went no further than the edge of the porch. Was done and back inside within a minute, the wind too brutal to linger outside. He opened the door, stomped his feet, closed the door, stopped dead.
A Glock 19 was aimed directly between his eyes. And despite running a fever, sweating, an eye swollen closed, fighting a headache that had kept him flat on his back for several hours, Clay sat on the sofa, oozing hostility. His aim didn't waiver, his hand didn't shake.
"Blackburn." Summer hissed, afraid to move. Did Clay recognize him? "Blackburn?" Dear God. "BLACKBURN!" He locked eyes with Clay. "Clay? Hey man, it's me. Summer? Remember me? Not winter. Right? You know me, Sonny doesn't like me. COMMANDER!"
Cerberus raised his head, he'd let this man leave the cabin because he hadn't been told not to. He yawned, licked his chops, stopped mid yawn. If he had eyebrows, they would have met in disbelief before popping right off his head.
Yelp! This is not right. We are not working. We are on down time. I am in my bed with my favorite toy. There should be no guns.
Cerberus got to his feet, dog-stretched by lowering his head to the floor, ass in the air, then padded over to Eric and nudged him until the man raised a hand to scratch his ears.
Wake up human. We have a problem.
Eric sighed, opened one eye when Cerberus kept licking his hand. He yawned, patted the furry head.
"What's up boy? You gotta go out? Huh? Make it quick..." He realized his lap was empty, no heavy weight on his cramped thigh. "Whoa, hey there pip-squeak." He was off the sofa and between Clay and Summer. "What'cha doing Clay?" He asked quietly.
"Trying to kill me." Summer answered and Sonny was behind the sofa, came from nowhere.
"Oh, come on." Sonny rolled his eyes, waved a hand over his head dismissively. "Knowing how he is when he's medicated," he leaned over Clay, plucked the gun from his one-hand firm hold. "You really think we're gonna leave loaded guns just lying around in his reach?" He didn't bother to check the gun, tossed it aside. It landed on a chair and within seconds, it had been picked it up and was out of sight.
Summer just stared Sonny down. He walked behind the sofa and Clay had fucking freaked out. Sonny walked behind the sofa and Clay was all docile and compliant.
Clay, now that Sonny and Eric were in control, slowly listed sideways until his head hit the pillow, burrowed into the warmth left from Eric. Sonny came around the sofa, squatted down, rested a hand on his shoulder.
"Clay? You ok?"
Summer fumed. Was Spenser okay? The hell was that shit?
Cerberus had retrieved Brock and now, everyone was in the room.
"What's going on?" Ray asked sleepily, not yet completely awake.
"Your kid just held a loaded gun on me, round in the chamber, finger on the trigger."
"Do you have to be such a delicate flower?" Sonny asked sarcastically.
"Then you won't have a problem letting me see that gun." Summer countered.
"None at all." Sonny shrugged with a smirk.
Summer's gaze flicked to the chair where Sonny had just thrown the gun – it wasn't there. His eyes widened. Jesus Christ!
"Kairos." Ray spoke up, wide awake now. "We told you…"
"You never told me he would try to kill me if he didn't recognize me!"
"Don't be such a drama queen." Trent blew him off, rousing Clay who was reluctant to respond. "No one tried to kill you." He made Clay sit up, winced at the choked groan of pain lifting his head from the pillow caused.
"He held a gun on me!" To his dismay, he was shaking. Sure, 'the kid' whined and cried when he had an audience. Hadn't winced or moaned when he'd sat upright with a gun in his hand, Eric asleep and no one else around.
"We told you to let him get used to you." Brock accused. "But you've done nothing to try and make that happen."
"He wasn't like this in Mumbai." Summer objected.
"He was shot."
"We lost Adam."
"Jason wasn't with us."
None of that made any fucking sense. Clay had been in both physical and emotional pain and...nothing like this had happened.
Summer was at a loss. He'd been excited, honored to roll with Bravo, the best Seal Team the Navy had. No one joined their team and now he knew why. They were bat-shit crazy. All of them. Blackburn, Davis, Ellis included.
This was the first mission he'd been on with Bravo that they were a complete unit. The first one or two had been without Ray. The last one had been without Jason. Now, he wasn't so sure he wanted anything to do with any of them.
He damn well knew Clay had held a loaded gun on him, cocked and ready – one in the chamber, finger on the trigger. That Sonny had oh-so nonchalantly palmed a loaded gun, like it couldn't have shot him in the face, made his knees weak. And no, it didn't matter Sonny had taken the gun from Clay from behind.
"So, that's how you're going to play it?" Summer looked from Sonny to Trent to Brock to Ray. Everyone met his gaze, stared him down. Yeah, that's the way it was gonna be. "Blackburn?"
Blank stares.
Jason, sprawled in his bunk in the other room, was awakened when Cerberus jumped onto the bed, lay across his legs and dropped a gun onto his stomach.
"Woof."
Jason yawned, picked the gun up, disarmed it, set the safety, scratched two silky ears. "Hey boy."
He should get up. The dog didn't often bring him loaded guns. Something was going on somewhere. He didn't move, Ray could handle it, whatever it was. He heard raised voices from the other room. Maybe not.
"Who went and did what, huh boy?" He gave the dog a final pat. "Should I go see?"
"WOOF!"
"Take that as a yes." He sat up, swung his feet to the floor.
Cerberus curled up in the warm spot vacated by Jason, head on the pillow. His eyes closed with a doggy sigh of complete exhaustion. Looking after this pack was hard work.
Jason stepped from his room, went no further. Great. The guys were all over Summer – again. Damn. Give it time, Eric said. They'll work it out, Davis said. Just fun and games, Ellis said.
They were all full of shit.
Jason whistled, the room fell silent. "What now?"
Jason understood why Brock couldn't warm up to Summer. Jason didn't like the way Summer treated Cerberus either. Man, that made Jason burn. Cerb was not just a dog. One day soon, that dog was doing to be allowed to show Summer just what kind of dog he was. Maybe stitches from a dog bite and denied pain meds would change his tune.
He could even understand Trent's hostility. Summer's comments about Trent's bedside manner and habit of favoring Clay, were true, but out of line. Deserved a punch to the face, and Jason would turn the other way when Trent ultimately delivered another fist that would undoubtedly, this time, knock a tooth or two loose.
He knew Ray was getting tired of playing the peacemaker, hated Ray being put in that position. It wasn't right, it wasn't fair, and it shouldn't be necessary.
And Sonny? Pffft!
Summer very much was not a team player. He was used to working on his own with inanimate objects that didn't talk back. If Jason couldn't get him past that, he would have to go.
"Ray?" Jason waited. Everyone wanted to speak at once, but by their boss singling out by name, they all kept their tongue.
Ray hesitated. The truth was known by all. Clay was slumped into the depths of the sofa, holding a towel of ice to his head staring hatred and vehemence at Summer. His gaze was still unfocused and he kept his head tilted to the side…so yeah, he still wasn't right. But that didn't mean he could go around aiming loaded guns at teammates.
"Uh, just an argument." Ray said finally. "Maybe Clay should go to bed."
"Easier to watch him out here." Trent argued.
"Didn't do a very good job of that, did you?" Ray snapped, making Jason's eyebrows rise.
And Trent uncharacteristically snapped right back. "WE DID!" He pointed at Summer. "He entered without knocking. You don't do that when the kid is…..you don't do that."
"I stepped out for a minute. I have the right to come back in." Summer said defensively. "Spenser should be in the infirmary." He looked at Blackburn. "Rules, remember them? Regulations? He doesn't belong here."
Clay Spenser would be fine if he were left alone...it was Bravo who wouldn't be fine, their kid was alone, without them.
"You don't belong here." Sonny sneered.
"You chose to bunk with support, these aren't your quarters." Brock added.
"Where's the dog?" Summer asked suddenly, finally figuring out where the gun had gone. "Doesn't it ever go in a crate?"
"It's called a kennel, not a crate." Brock corrected. "And he is not confined to a kennel. Don't like it, get out."
"It's a military dog," Summer began. "You're just its handler."
"ALRIGHT!" Jason raised his voice, something he rarely did in their quarters. "Enough!"
Three of his men fell sullen and silent. Ray looked weary and worn out. Clay looked….well, like he had no idea what was going on and mostly likely didn't. Jason's gaze rested on his youngest…the kid looked like crap. He was having a rough night, not sleeping well, wouldn't settle down, running a fever, something he didn't usually do, his head was hurting….and now Summer had come back in from outside, unannounced and Clay hadn't recognized him - had apparently held a loaded gun on him. Huh.
Jason looked at Eric, who nodded. He had his commander's support. "Cerberus is part of this team. He's not just a military dog, he's our dog. Brock owns and trained Cerberus, the dog is his. Cerb doesn't go to the kennel on base, or go with another team, he goes home with Brock, got it?"
"He's not an 'it'." Brock couldn't help adding.
Summer nodded.
"Now what the fuck..." Jason rubbed his forehead, yawned. "...did you think we meant when we told you to stay away from Clay? Don't get close to him. What part of 'don't go near him' didn't you get? Let him get used to you? Any of this ringing any bells with you?"
"I assumed you were all over-reacting like you always do." Summer stated, still shaken, now angry. "No one ever said he'd try to kill me, he didn't recognize me."
"Jesus Fucking Christ!" Sonny snapped. "No one tried to kill you!"
"Yet," both Trent and Brock muttered.
Jason raised a hand, palm out, to silence his men. "The hell's the matter with you?" He asked Summer.
Summer thought of his recent introduction to Clay's steady hand and unfocused gaze. It would be his word against – everyone else, should he decide to report the incident. An investigation would be opened, they would all be questioned. Sonny, Brock and Trent would claim they saw nothing. What Ray would do, was questionable. The gun was suspiciously missing, though everyone knew where it had gone.
Blackburn looked pissed, no help would come from the team commander.
Summer wouldn't dare demand he be allowed to search Jason's room. He'd ruin whatever career in the Navy he might have, he was thrown out of Bravo. Rumors would follow him.
He was slowly, finally, beginning to get it. They were nuts. All of them. Even the damn dog. But nuts or not, they were a team, and they circled one another, no matter the reason. His choices were: stay on the team and work to gain their trust or transfer out without causing a fuss over this incident.
"You...you...all of you, coddle him." Summer blurted out. "He'd be fine, you all didn't...act this way...like...like this. He didn't moan and whine when he held a gun on me, so he can fight through the pain, he wants to."
"And that's a problem, why?" Eric asked, arms crossed over this chest, his stance, his look, defiant.
Summer was stunned. He hadn't expected them to see it, acknowledge it, know it, admit it. He'd thought Ray had tried to tell him that they tolerated Clay's, uh issues, because it was how they dealt with their violent lives, not because they knew they were coddling him.
Jason waited. He was tired. His team was tired. The storm didn't help already frayed tempers. Everyone wanted to be out tracking the men who had attempted to take one of their own. Everyone wanted Clay fine and fit once again, not in pain, fighting the effects of being drugged and medicated.
No one wanted this. But they had it, and they needed to deal with it.
He hadn't been on the mission where Bravo had lost Adam but both Ray and Eric had assured him, Clay had taken being shot without an issue. Probably, Trent had said, because he hadn't been drugged or medicated or sedated. Then grief and sorrow and guilt had struck and Clay had forgotten all about taking one in the vest until they'd gotten home.
Then came Mexico. Clay hadn't been on his best game. Jason thought it had to do with Stella, the timing of that break-up would mess with anyone's head. Whatever had happened, Sonny had become super-protective of the kid and Clay allowed it.
"Where did he get a gun?" Jason asked wearily. "How?"
"Dunno." Brock said. "Usually yeah, a loaded gun can be found anywhere in our quarters, but not tonight."
Jason rubbed his jaw, felt more grey hair growing. He knew the gun, bet by the look on Sonny's face, he did too. The gun was Clay's. They'd all locked up their own weapons, but no one had thought to secure Clay's own gun. How it had gotten to the depths of the sofa was the question that would probably never be answered.
"Okay then." Eric rubbed his hands together. "Lesson learned. Next time, we make sure he has no access to anyone's weapon. Everyone, back to bed."
And just like that, the incident was dismissed.
Jason headed for the coffee pot. It wasn't yet dawn, but close enough. "Summer, two choices. Take my bunk or get out." It was best to separate him from the others. "Guys, back to bed. Trent, that means you. I've got the kid."
He made a cup coffee. Eric had a word with Ray and Ray followed Bravo to their room, Eric went with Summer and Jason had no doubt his Commander would make this whole shit-show go away.
Clay licked his lips, ran a hand through his hair, winced. Hunched a shoulder to wipe sweat from his face, hissed.
"You're running a fever." Trent told him, offered him juice, he took it but his hand shook so badly, Trent held the cup steady for him.
"Am I?"
"Yuh-huh. Take this."
Clay eyed the bottle of liquid Tylenol with a curled lip. "Shit tastes awful."
Trent shrugged, produced tablets. "Take these then."
Clay glared at him, then his palm. "Didn't keep 'em down, did I?"
"Nope." Trent was surprised Clay was clear-headed. "You're keeping juice down, you need the liquids, wanna puke it up?"
Clay sighed, took the bottle from Trent, swallowed a mouthful. "Gross."
"Get some sleep." Trent told him. "Jason's up, you need anything."
"Go to bed." Jason told Trent again. "Me and him? Gonna have a chat about who delivers my orders and what is an acceptable job for his rank on this team, then he can sleep."
Great, Clay sighed, just great.
() () ()
The storm over, the sun out, doc made his way to the cabin to check up on Clay, who thankfully, slept soundly on the sofa, Lisa with him, bearing breakfast.
"Just when you think we have him figured out, he pulls something new, eh?" Doc chuckled, having been filled in on Clay's antics.
"Which means?" Eric asked.
Doc nodded, salted his scrambled eggs. "Young Spenser has never shown violence toward anyone before, has he?"
"Uh, hell yeah." Sonny snorted.
"In his quarters? With you all with him?" He raised a hand to ward off the expected argument. "You weren't within his sight, but you were within hearing distance, he knew that."
"Oh." Silence. "Well then, no."
"Doc," Jason began.
Doc munched bacon, swallowed coffee. "I, being of not extensive psyche training whatsoever, believe that young Spenser's issue with the 'season' over there, likely stems from the discord between him and the rest of you."
"Working on it." Jason muttered.
"Keep loaded guns away from him." Doc added. "How'd he get it anyway? No matter. Trent and I will figure it out."
"I'll fight beside him, I'll protect his back, save his ass, carry him on my back, but don't ask me to sit down and have a beer with him Jay." Sonny spoke up. "Ain't gonna have dinner neither, ain't gonna be in the same room with him 'less its mission related. You got a problem with that?"
Jason was quiet. Jay? Oh boy. And yes, he did, but no, he really didn't. "No, no problem." He'd give it time, see if the situation worked itself out. Best thing to do with Sonny was give him time.
"Manageable." Doc was telling Eric. "If the kid is sick, medicated, drugged, sedated, don't argue in front of him. He's gonna pick up on that. If you yell at someone, he's going to react, think he has to protect you…hey! Not so bad at this shrink thing after all, am I? Huh? Right? What do you think? I say, is that a cinnamon roll? Oh here now Brock, you can't have them all."
() () ()
"What'cha doing?" Kenny asked, coming into the supply shed.
"What'cha need?" Lisa countered with a smile.
"You got any gloves better than these?"
She tossed him a pair of ski-gloves, went back to zipping liners in to parkas. She worked the sleeve through, snapped the cuff. "Bravo's hiking out at three."
"Why are you zipping in…" he counted. "Seven liners?" His eyes widened. "Clay's not going, is he?"
Lisa snorted. "Not done yet," which meant, Jason would be taking members of support with him. "And no, he's grounded. He's dizzy, nauseated, his head still hurts and with only one eye, his coordination is off."
"His hand is good though, right?" Lisa nodded. "No PT?" Lisa shook her head. "You think they'll find trouble?"
She finished one coat, set it aside, picked up another. "They're going after whoever tried to take Clay."
"Not going home until they get them, huh?" Kenny paused. "Gonna need a hat." He grinned, catching the fur-lined knit hat with ear flaps she tossed at him. "See ya."
Lisa grinned, finished the parkas. Clay wouldn't be cleared to fly home for several days yet, but she knew Bravo would return from their hike with their captives this very day.
***END***