November 2010

"Hiya, Captains." López strides into the common room that's empty except for Reyes and Morrison. Most of the squad is outside playing a pick-up football game that both men opted out of, which left them the common room to themselves. Well, at least until López strolled in.

Reyes is laying on the couch looking mostly asleep, feet tucked short of where Morrison sits slumped to the side reading a book. The TV has what looks like some sort of soap opera playing at low volume. Probably one of Reyes' damn telenovelas.

It's a completely innocent scene. Unless you know what's going on between the two of them. Then you can see where Reyes' legs are curled up tight to avoid contact, likely done when he heard noise nearby. It's nothing like Reyes' usual sprawl. And though Morrison appears relaxed, Lopez can pinpoint the tension in his shoulders.

"What do you want, fuckhead?" Reyes asks without opening his eyes.

"I know we're in the ass end of nowhere here, and the damn dinosaurs get new fucking news before us. But an old fuck buddy of mine sent me an interesting article with some interesting news. Thought you two might be interested." López drops into the recliner, enjoying the glare Reyes levels in his direction.

"And?" Reyes asks without sitting up. Morrison doesn't even look up from his book, the jackass.

"Here I fought with the damn base printer just so you could see all of it. And this is how you fucking treat me. Maybe I won't tell you." López leans back, crossing his arms behind his head like he intends to settle in.

"Hey, Jack." Reyes' conversational tone sets off López's alarms. "Don't we need a volunteer to scrub down all of the bathrooms? With a toothbrush."

"We do." Morrison turns a page, still not looking up. López would bet he's not even really reading the damn thing. "Always got to watch out for those surprise inspections."

"Inspections? We never have those fucking things," López protests. "We don't even exist on paper, for fuck's sake."

"Mmmm." Morrison glances up. "You can never be too sure. Someone has to know about us. We get funding, after all."

"Fine." López tosses the printed pages at Morrison. He wouldn't put it past the assholes. Messing with them is not worth the risk. "Looks like they're finally fucking talking about repealing Don't Ask Don't Tell. And it's likely to pass. Thank fuck. Rumors say next September for it to actually go into effect. If the damn politicians actually stick to a goddamn timeline. Don't know why it has to take so fucking long though."

López watches while Morrison scans the article before handing the pages over to Reyes, who actually sits up to take them.

"Does this mean I get to throw you assholes a coming out party?" López is sure his grin is a little manic. "It's been a long fucking time coming."

"No!" Reyes growls. "I will make you scrub down the entire damn base with a toothbrush if you do. No fucking way."

"Aw. But think of the bastards outside! They'd be happy to celebrate." López pauses. "In a way that isn't thank the devil we all made it out alive and mostly intact."

"No." Reyes is full on glaring now.

"Morrison ain't complainin'. Maybe we'll throw him a party and not invite you."

"Do it and die." Morrison is back to reading his book, not looking one bit excited. "Besides, it doesn't change the frat regs, and I'll be shocked if it actually passes."

López slumps. Asshole. Raining on his parade.

September 13, 2011

Gabe frowns down at the computer screen. The email from his mamá worries him. He knew Jesse hadn't wanted to talk to him on the phone lately, but he wasn't expecting an update as bad as this. Bristling, angry, prone to getting into fights. Gabe sighs and scrubs a hand down his face.

Gabe admits that he isn't a large presence in the boy's life despite his best efforts. The distance, not to mention the details of his fucking job, make even checking in a nightmare. He doesn't have a real good idea about what might be going on with Jesse, but he doesn't like it. If his mamá is worried, he's worried.

He's been toying with the idea of getting out. Either out of black ops or out of the Army completely. He isn't sure which he wants, but he does think that it's about time to be getting home more often. He took the kid in, he needs to be around for the day to day. To be a support system and role model for him.

He can't do that from the middle of fucking nowhere doing a job he can't talk about thousands of miles away from the kid.

Gabe taps the keyboard, thinking. He has his twenty years in. He could technically retire and get all of his benefits. He stretches in the chair, muscles in his back tightening up. He's starting to think that it's time to get out before he ends up dead or disabled. It's taking him longer and longer to recover these days. He feels beaten down for longer periods of time. It's just a matter of time until he reacts too slowly and winds up dead because of it.

Gabe pulls up a second window and starts looking for the information he needs on retirement when the door behind him opens. He quickly minimizes everything before turning around. He smiles when he sees Jack, rumpled like he just woke up and finding Gabe is the first thing he'd thought to do. Gabe gestures Jack over, checking to make sure the coast is clear, and pulls him down into a kiss.

"Hey, Sunshine," Gabe whispers, keeping a hand on Jack's cheek. Jack rubs against it before separating himself and dragging a chair over.

"Mornin'." Jack drops into the chair backwards, pillowing his head on his arms on the back of it. Must not have stopped by the kitchen for coffee yet. Jack looks like he's already falling back asleep.

Sitting in front of him is reason number three or four for getting out. Gabe wants to be able to openly kiss this man. He's sick of hiding even though he knows they're in an enviable situation with their squad compared to most in their positions. He loves this man and wants to be able to tell the world. And he can't do that here and now. He can't do that even when Don't Ask, Don't Tell is officially repealed on the 20th, as Jack pointed out all those months ago.

Moving room assignments around with their last few recruits has given them a little bit more freedom. They're sharing a room now. It helps, but it's not enough. They still have to be careful. They still have to hide. They can't spend nights together, no matter how much Gabe wants to crawl into Jack's bunk every fucking night.

If Gabe gets out, he'll be able to tell everyone even if Jack stays in. He can't lie to himself. It definitely adds to the appeal.

He doesn't expect Jack to follow him out. He doesn't have his twenty years yet. And even if he did, Gabe wouldn't expect him to come too. The team's going to need a leader. Jack should get the chance to be that leader without playing second fiddle to Gabe.

"What're you doing awake already?" Jack asks, breaking Gabe's line of thought.

Gabe shrugs. "Couldn't sleep." Nightmares again. Not that Gabe wants to mention it to Jack. Jack has enough fuel for his own nightmares; they all do. Gabe doesn't need to complain.

"Mmmm. Missed you." Jack sounds mostly asleep.

Gabe checks for witnesses again out of habit before pulling Jack in for another kiss. He definitely won't miss the constant vigilance required to kiss his own lover. He's just not sure Jack's on the same page though. He'll have to find time to talk about it when Jack's actually awake.

At the moment, Jack's head is already buried back in his arms, eyes tightly closed.

"C'mon, Sunshine. Go get some coffee before you fuck up your back trying to sleep like that." Gabe stands and pulls Jack to his feet.

"Coming?" Jack asks, leaning against the doorframe.

"In a bit. I've got a phone call to make," Gabe replies.

Jack nods, leaving the room and hitting the far wall as he stumbles towards the kitchen. Gabe watches him go for a few seconds, suppressing a smile. God, he loves that dork.

Gabe pulls his phone out to call Jesse, but pauses. Jesse doesn't know anything about Jack. That's a complication that Gabe has to consider. He and Jack never discuss the future. It's never seemed like the right time, since their present is so precarious. Gabe knows what he wants out of this, but he's not sure that Jack is on the same page.

Jack might not be as committed. And even if he is, that's no guarantee that he would be open to having a kid. Gabe won't have someone in Jesse's life in that capacity that isn't committed to him. And it's a lot to ask from anyone.

Gabe's not really sure which way Jack falls on an issue like that. The man has never talked about kids or wanting them. Not that they've spent much time talking about kids or families, either amongst themselves or with the rest of the team.

Gabe knows that's partially his own fault. He's kept the two halves of his life forcibly separated. He's never seen the point of bringing them together when everything was so cloaked in shadow, and their relationship was literally illegal. He never gave them a chance to actually have that conversation.

If he retires, then he wouldn't have to keep them apart once the repeal goes into effect. Provided Jack wants to be part of his entire family.

He wasn't exactly excited about the news of the DADT repeal going into effect soon. But Gabe's not sure how much he should be reading into that. And there's no way to know without asking him.

First things first. He needs to deal with Jesse this morning. Then, he'll have to figure out how to prepare the squad for him leaving. If he's leaving, he's not going to leave them in the dark. Then he'll have to talk to Jack and find out if his lackluster response to the repeal was because of the situation they're in currently. Or if it's because he doesn't see this going anywhere.

Gabe honestly can't be sure which it is. He hopes Jack's on the same page as him though.

First things first. Gabe unlocks his phone, no longer shiny and new, but it still works for calling home.

"Hey, kid," Gabe says when Jesse picks up the phone. "Want to tell me what's going on? 'Cause I've got to say, I don't like what I've been hearing lately."

Gabe paces the room, listening to Jesse huff and sigh and rant without saying much of anything. He tries to read between what the kid is saying and what he isn't, but he has to admit defeat. As much as he's tried to be there, thousands of miles of distance and irregular contact doesn't make it easy.

Jesse pauses in his long rant about idiots at school and math that doesn't make sense no matter how much he stares at it.

"Tío?" Jesse's voice sounds suddenly small across the phone line. "Can I ask you something important?"

"Of course." Gabe stops his pacing and settles back down into his chair. Medina pokes his head in the room before Jesse starts speaking again and Gabe waves him away without a word. He doesn't need the distraction now. And unless the base is completely surrounded, under fire, and the building is about to collapse on his head, whatever it is can wait until he is done here. Medina nods and withdraws.

"Are you alone?" Jesse sounds worried. "Really alone?"

Gabe stands back up and checks the hallway, closing the door for good measure. "Yeah, I am. I just made sure."

"Okay." Jesse pauses again and Gabe waits him out. Then Jesse whispers so softly Gabe can barely hear, "Are you gay? I just…I remember something Mamá said. It's okay if you don't—"

"Yeah, kid, I am," Gabe says immediately, cutting off the uncertain rambling following the question. He thinks he knows where this is going now. He remembers being eleven and confused. He remembers the trouble he got into at that age, feeling like the entire world was against him. He's not going to let Jesse feel that way. He's sure his mamá isn't going to let him either.

"How'd you know?" Jesse's follow up isn't a surprise.

Gabe leans back in his chair and tries to remember being Jesse's age. "Girls were never that interesting. I had plenty as friends, but I never saw the appeal for anything more. I was way more drawn to my best friend at the time, in a way that took me a long time to understand." Gabe suppresses a laugh. He doesn't want Jesse to think he's laughing at him. "And that never changed. I still don't get women."

"Okay. Thanks." Jesse sounds much more like himself.

Gabe looks up at a tap on the door and sees Jack holding it open a crack, peeking in. He smiles and holds up a finger to give him a minute.

"Anything else you want to talk about?" Gabe asks deliberately lightly, not pressing for anything more. Jesse can tell them in his own time. And who knows if Gabe's suspicion is even correct. Jesse could still just be questioning.

"No. Not now. But can you call again? Soon? I know it's expens—"

"Absolutely," Gabe promises without hesitation, not caring one bit about the cost. "As much as I can. And email me whenever."

"Okay. Adíos." Jesse hangs up the phone before Gabe can reply.

Gabe waves Jack into the room as he puts his phone away, mind made up. He's getting out and getting home as soon as possible. It's what he needs to do for himself and for Jesse. And maybe, just maybe, for him and Jack too.

"We've got new intel on Los Muertos. Meeting with Petras in ten," Jack says, leaning against the door. "We've got to act fast. Source came from the inside this time."

Gabe grins. Maybe he can take out those assholes as a parting gift to the team.

September 15, 2011

Jack drops onto the couch in the common room, glad that it is completely empty. It's the middle of the night, so Jack isn't surprised, but he's glad for it anyway. He has too much to think about and doesn't want any distractions.

He could have gone back to his room, but Gabe is likely there. And right now, that's part of the problem, not the solution.

He just got out of meeting with Petras to come up with a mission plan. Petras is overseeing this one personally, which is unusual. It's more like him to point them at a target and then sit back, let them do it on their own. But they've been after Los Muertos for so long that Jack isn't surprised. He's sure that Petras wants them just as badly as the rest of them.

It hasn't been going over well though. And that is the issue. Gabe and Petras have been arguing about how to do this. To be fair, they've been arguing for years before Jack even got assigned here, from what he understands. They've never seen eye to eye on anything, but they've been able to work together. Mostly because they've interacted as little as possible to get the fucking job done.

All of that came to a head today. It seems Petras has finally had enough of Gabe arguing against his every point. He'd thrown Gabe out and given Jack control of the team. Jack remembers the chilling silence in the room after that move, the rest of the squad as stunned as Jack had been.

Petras hasn't discharged or transferred Gabe yet, but Jack's worried it's just a matter of time. He scrubs a hand down his face. He's not sure that he wants to lead this team, especially if it means Gabe being kicked out for good.

Maybe this is the reason that Petras has always given Gabe so much free reign, knowing they can't work together. And that Gabe is extremely effective, needing little oversight. Jack sighs. He hopes the two will settle down after this mission, get everything sorted out and back to normal. If they're going after people that Petras has less investment in, maybe he'll be content to go back to the status quo. Jack sure doesn't like the state that they're existing in right now. And he's not sure that he could handle it long term.

For his part, Gabe hasn't been pulling his punches with Petras. Jack is used to him arguing with Petras, but doing it in a way that's mostly professionally acceptable. Petras is their superior officer, and they have to respect that. Even if neither of them can stand the man. And Gabe does, under normal circumstances. He argues it out to the line—but not over it—and then comes back and rants to Jack or López or beats the hell out of a punching bag. Every once in a while, it results in him tracking down enough ingredients to bake for the team.

No one complains about that. The squad has been quietly collaborating for years to make sure their tiny kitchen is stocked with the essential baking supplies. It's Gabe's healthiest coping mechanism, and they try to encourage it. Just like they collaborate to smuggle in López's preferred brand of cigarettes or get in the newest seasons of Sanchez's weird anime obsession.

Surprisingly, it's been Stephens that has been able to encourage more baking and make sure Gabe finds everything he needs already in the kitchen for whatever he wants to make. Stephens also seems to have the most connections for getting anything any of them want. Jack still hasn't dredged up the time to ask that kid about his past, and he kind of regrets it.

But for the past few days, it's been like Gabe doesn't care. He hasn't been trying his usual approach, to work around Petras' ideas. To follow the letter of what Petras wants but do it in a way that actually makes sense. It almost seems like Gabe is checked out, not caring what happens here long term. About his career after this mission.

Jack's relieved that he at least is still trying to steer the plans in a way that gets the team in and out with the least amount of injuries. He just isn't trying at all to be diplomatic about it. He doesn't seem to care what Petras thinks anymore. Like it doesn't matter for the rest of his life.

Jack's not sure how to take that.

And it leaves Jack high and dry, trying to figure out what to do. Tomorrow is the last planning session. In two days, they go in. And Jack has to be the one to lead them all in and, hopefully, all out as well.

Jack levers himself off the couch and starts pacing, restless energy threading through his limbs. He's been arguing for keeping most of what Gabe wanted to do, despite Petras' disgruntlement. The man's plans are solid, even if he's apparently lost his damn mind in terms of behavior lately. But Petras is insisting on key differences. On waiting until later in the day and taking a different route in.

Jack doesn't like the new route. It's too narrow. Leaves them grouped too closely, no good sightlines to cover all the angles an attack could be coming from. It's not the worst route in, but it's not what Jack would take in if he had his way. But he doesn't have the clout to demand it. What will Petras do if Jack pushes too hard? Jack scowls, throwing himself back on the couch when he runs out of steam. He can't leave the team completely stranded without either of their leaders.

At least Petras listened when Jack insisted that Gabe stay a part of the team that goes in. He wants Gabe watching his back. Gabe's been after Los Muertos from the beginning. He knows more about them than any of the rest of them. He needs to be there. He'll be able to spot anything out of place quicker than the rest of them.

And personally, Jack just doesn't want to walk into hell without Gabe by his side.

Jack sighs. This isn't getting him anywhere. He came in here to think, to plan for how to approach mission planning with Petras tomorrow. And he's not getting any further on that, running around in mental circles instead. He's just not sure how to approach the man on his own. Usually, he's the quiet, calm buffer between Petras and Gabe, lending his voice behind Gabe's arguments, but doing it in a way Petras can accept.

Without Gabe there, Jack knows that he's going to need to be more aggressive. But he needs to balance on the edge as well. He can't lose it. The squad needs one of its leaders in on the planning.

Jack pushes himself up off the couch. It's late and he needs some sleep before they get started again tomorrow. He wants to make an argument against their route in, and he knows he needs to be at his best to do it. He might as well try to get some sleep.

He drags himself back to his and Gabe's room, thinking about saying screw it all tonight and climbing into bed with Gabe. He could definitely use the comfort, almost enough to take the risk. He thinks that Gabe could too. It's been a hell of a day for both of them.

But Jack halts on the threshold, frowning. Gabe isn't in the room. It's the middle of the goddamn night. Jack has no idea where he could be. And the most worrying part is that this seems to be becoming a habit.

Jack sighs and strips down before climbing into bed. Gabe's been on the phone all the damn time lately too. And he hasn't been talking about it. Not that that is unusual for Gabe. Jack wonders if there's something going on at home. Gabe's never talked too much about his home life. But this, along with his nightly forays, almost makes Jack wonder…

He shakes his head. Jack can't worry about that now. He needs to sleep.

But it hovers just out of reach. Jack is still awake, mind spinning in circles, when Gabe ghosts into the room an hour later. Jack listens as Gabe gets ready for bed. He's surprised when Gabe pads across the room to Jack's bunk.

Gabe crouches down and places a light, lingering kiss Jack's cheek. Then he moves to stand. But Jack reaches out and grabs him before he can move away. Gabe comes willingly without a word, squeezing himself onto the bunk beside Jack.

"Everything okay?" Gabe asks quietly after he's settled.

Jack shakes his head. Nothing is okay. He curses himself for being weak even as he flips over and wraps himself around Gabe.

"We'll get through this," Gabe whispers. "It'll be okay."

"Yeah," Jack says.

"Then we need to talk," Gabe adds.

Jack feels his heart start racing even as he stiffens.

"Nothing bad, Sunshine. I promise." Gabe rubs Jack's shoulders and he can feel himself relaxing. "I'm hoping it's a good thing all around."

"Okay," Jack mumbles, sleep finally settling over him. He decides he can trust Gabe that much.

September 19, 2011

Jack wakes. He blinks rapidly when everything remains mostly black and nothing comes into focus. Panic rises in his gut. He can't fucking see anything.

Distantly, he hears an insistent beeping speed up.

Right. Hospital. Explosion. His vision fucked.

Jack swallows and takes deep breaths, trying to calm himself down before people rush his room. This isn't the first time he's woken since the explosion, after all. But the smothering feeling of his newfound blindness is primal and debilitating, and takes some time to work through.

Not being able to see is fucking bad enough. Not being able to see in a room full of people poking and prodding him is not something that Jack ever wants to repeat. They keep telling him his vision will get better. No one knows how much better, but they seem convinced he won't be blind forever. He just has to give his optic nerve time.

Waking up in the dark still hasn't gotten easier. He doesn't want it to get easier. He wants it to go away.

When the beeping from the heart monitor slows enough, Jack opens his eyes to see if there's any improvement. But everything is still dark.

Fuck.

Fucking Gabe.

His mind wanders to Petras' debrief yesterday, leaving a bad taste in his mouth. They were definitely set up. Someone knew they were coming. And all the signs, from this mission and even from ones in the past, point towards a mole on the inside. Someone double crossed them.

And, according to Petras and some lawyer that he had with him, all the evidence leads to Gabriel fucking Reyes being the double agent.

Yesterday, Jack couldn't believe it. Now…

Jack tries to calm himself, listening for his electronic babysitter to slow before he tries to unpack that thought.

He pushes past his initial disbelief.

Is it possible?

Jack has to admit, reluctantly, that is a maybe.

A few months or a year ago Jack would have said no. Hell no. Gabe would never sell out his team. He would never lead them into a goddamn death trap. He would never set them all up to be killed. The man cared too much about his team. Took every death and every injury too personally. Tried to come up with the safest plans and rock solid Plan B's for when things went to shit.

But Gabe's been distracted lately. And gone more than usual. His ideas in mission planning had been turning volatile in retrospect, and his disagreements with Petras more frequent and violently adamant.

Jack'd just assumed something was going on back home. Gabe has never been talkative about it, keeping his life here and his family there separate. Even from Jack.

But in light of this, was he wrong?

Is Gabe's family even real? Or was it some kind of cover?

Someone had set them up, and Gabe knew all the details. One of the few that did. They kept most of the squad in the dark as much as possible, as a matter of procedure. Minimize the number of people that know exactly when and where they'll strike before they leave.

No one knew except Jack, Gabe, and a few of the upper command.

And the finalized plan remained mostly unchanged from Gabe's initial sessions with Petras. Before he removed the man and put Jack in charge.

Jack never thought to change those details. Or keep anything from Gabe. Jack trusted him that much.

And that might have cost him his sight.

And most of their squad their lives.

Jack hears the heart monitor speed up again and tries to calm himself. He just wants out of this damn hospital bed. He has no idea what he's going to do with fucked up vision, but he'd rather be anywhere else right now.

When his pulse slows again, Jack focus back on Gabe.

He thinks about the increase in Gabe's phone calls and emails on that stupid smart phone. He thinks about the late night absences, when there was no reason for it. All the times he's shied away from Jack lately. The phone conversations in Spanish that cut off whenever anyone came near.

Almost like he was pulling away for a reason.

A pile of individual things that alone mean nothing. Together, they could still mean nothing. But in the wake of the explosion, Jack is having trouble seeing them in any other light than sinister.

It would make a disturbing amount of sense. How else could Los Muertos know that they were coming? They'd had no agents on the inside this time, no one for the gang to make and interrogate. And their intel had come from a defector, one that hadn't had any contact with the gang after leaving. Los Muertos should have had no idea.

It had to be someone on the inside on their end. And the list of people who knew enough to set them up that badly is very short. One name stands out.

Jack's heart aches as the knife of cold hard information twists deeper and all hope he'd had for their future goes up in flames, leaving bitter ash in his throat.

He doesn't want to believe it. But he can't figure out any other way to make this whole mess make sense.

September 20, 2011

Gabe comes to with fire sparking over his entire body. Every nerve ending screams at him. He can't move. He can barely breathe. The pain is overwhelming.

But he's alive. He clings to that and fights to hold onto consciousness.

"Good. You're awake," Petras' voice rings out, making his ears throb. "I was hoping cutting the pain meds down would do it. You've been out for days. And we need to talk."

Gabe braces himself and opens his eyes. His head starts pounding as soon as the light hits him, so he clamps them back closed. He takes a few deep breathes before he tries to open them again. This time, he pushes through the instant pain and succeeds. He still has to blink several times before he can make out the figures in the doorway.

Sure enough, Petras is standing there with someone else. Gabe can't get a good enough look to place the second man. But there's enough of a shine off of what must be metal attached to his uniform that he must be someone high ranking. And an outsider.

No one on base wears a dress uniform. If he's even in the base hospital. He can't be sure. The last thing he remembers is trying to breathe as chunks of brick piled onto his head, lungs choked by dust and smoke. The terror induced by the weight pinning him down, that he didn't expect to make it out.

Then, there was darkness as he was fully buried. And enough time to realize that they were set up, that Jack walked them into a fucking trap, before unconsciousness overtook him.

Gabe drops his head back onto the pillow on his bed, exhausted already.

"I can't figure out how you did it," Petras snaps. Gabe struggles to stay awake and listen to his rant. "But I'm sure it was you. No other explanation. I just can't prove it. At least, not yet."

He must be talking about the mission. Gabe doesn't know how the hell it went wrong. But the flash point is blindingly clear, even to his foggy brain. The revised route. It must have been a fucking trap.

Damn Jack. Part of commanding a squad is considering all the angles, and prioritizing what's best for the team. He should have seen this coming, should have taken them in another way no matter what the brass said. The strike was too easy. They'd been fish in the fucking barrel. But Gabe had been shut down hard when he tried to argue the potential and Morrison hadn't fought at all. And now they're paying the price.

Petras keeps talking before Gabe's drug-addled mind can process a reply. "This is Major Burns, JAG." Gabe blinks trying to focus on the person with Petras and failing. "He's been investigating this screw up. Talking to the team, or at least what's left of them. Looking over the details. Finding out who is responsible for it. I told him it was you, but legalities must be respected, I suppose."

The Major steps further into the room, coming close enough to Gabe's bed that he can finally make out the oak leaves on the man's uniform. "Here is where we stand. We know the leak came from the inside. Everyone from Petras down to the newest Blackwatch recruit is telling me that it has to be you. But you see, we can't prove that. Yet."

Gabe swallows roughly. His team thinks he betrayed them. At least those left alive. He wants to ask who's left. He needs to know who died in the explosion. López? Medina? Jack?

But he can't make himself ask. He's not sure that it even matters. They are either dead or they believe the worst of him. Does it really matter which? He's spent years with most of those guys, thought of them as family. And yet they're all so ready to point the finger at him, to believe he could sell them out. Even Jack whose trust and judgment Gabe thought he could have counted on. But maybe that was Gabe's biggest mistake after all.

He tries to muster up the energy to be angry about that.

And just can't.

Burns keeps talking, cutting off Gabe's train of thought. "I'm sure that we could get there eventually. Lucky for you though, the brass wants this dealt with quickly and quietly." Burns pulls a piece of paper out of his briefcase. "This is a general discharge."

"It's not the dishonorable one that you deserve," Petras growls. Gabe doesn't look up from the paper the lawyer set in front of him. He's having a hard enough time concentrating trying to see the words on the page. "But this will get you out before you can kill off what little of the team is left."

"Sign this." The lawyer drops a pen on the papers.

"What grounds?" Gabe finally gets his voice to cooperate, even if it is unrecognizable at the moment.

Petras laughs harshly. "You have to ask?" He stalks over to Gabe's bedside and sits on the chair, back straight and nose in the air. "Behavioral issues. The list is there for your perusal. We gave you a lot of rope because you got results, but this is the end. I'm not going to keep you around just for you to get more people killed." Petras lowers his chin to pin Gabe with a glare. "I can't prove you were the mole at the moment. But if you fight this, I will. Then you're looking at jail. Sign or not. Your decision, Reyes."

Gabe knows he didn't sell out his team. He knows he didn't cause this. But that doesn't mean Petras and Burns can't manufacture evidence against him given enough time. He doesn't like his odds of fighting it. Especially since it sounds like it's him against everyone left alive.

And if his entire team is against him, is there really any point of fighting it?

He's done enough research to know that a General Discharge is likely the best of his bad options here. Everything else would almost certainly include prison time. The odds of him clearing his name seem very, very small right now. Especially if he has to do it alone.

And Gabe's not sure that it is worth the effort. He wants out anyway. This gets him out. So what if one of his major reasons for getting out no longer exists.

With his team thinking he's the mole. With Jack, if he's even still alive, thinking he turned against them all…

It doesn't matter anymore. He needs to get out, get home, get away from all of this. And apparently start his entire life over. Nothing here matters anymore. He can't let it.

Gabe struggles to sit up enough to see the paper. He signs with a shaking hand. His signature isn't even recognizable.

Better to take his freedom and get out.

Strength sapped by that small act, Gabe falls back onto the bed. His entire body screams in pain. Burns snaps the paper up as soon as he's done, shoving it back into his briefcase and stalking out of the room.

"Goodbye, Reyes. Have a good life. I hope to never see your lying ass again." Petras looks around Gabe's hospital room as he gets to his feet. "We'll get you transferred somewhere more suitable to your new status." Petras pauses in the doorway. "This is your copy." He tosses a pack of papers onto the rumpled bed sheet and departs without another word.

Gabe stares at the date on the page and wants to laugh at the fucking irony of it all. September 20, 2011. DADT is officially repealed, something he'd hoped would change his life. And his entire life has changed. Just not in the way he was hoping for.

Exhausted, body aching at every breath, and mind unable to take it all anymore, he closes his eyes to avoid the paper that lays on his chest and mocks him.

Gabe welcomes the darkness that overtakes him. Unconsciousness is preferable to the thought that this is all because of a man he loved, that he thought loved him.