Sonny stepped out of the car and held his sights on a small house on the other side of the street. The lawn was overgrown, and the façade of the home looked neglected. The one thing that caught his attention the most was just beside the door, on the porch, the stars and stripes hung proudly. He felt his throat tighten, almost like he was going to choke on the sight. "Son of a bitch." He growled under his breath.
As he crossed the street, he tucked his handgun just under his belt, and straightened his shirt to ensure concealment. He grabbed the peak of his cap and pulled it down closer to his eyes. As he made his way to the gate, he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket, he reached it out and saw Brock's name on the screen. He rejected the call and turned the device off. Nothing was going to interrupt what he needed to do.
Stepping up onto the porch he immediately grabbed hold of the flagpole, yanked it from its anchor point and set it down over the chair to the side of the door. This man had no right to be flying Old Glory after what he'd done and whilst he wanted to desecrate this bastard's property, he sure as hell wouldn't defile the flag in which Clay had fought under. His hand balled into a solid fist, slamming his knuckles against the door.
It took a while, but the door opened, a balding and unshaven man appeared in a tee and trackpants, looking more like a squatter than a legitimate resident. "Can I help you?" the man said with a soft voice.
"You Dale Meacham?" Sonny asked.
"Yes…" The man answered with confusion.
Before Sonny knew what he was doing, the tight fist he had used to slam against the door was now in contact with the man's jaw. In turn the man stumbled back into the hallway and falling down onto his back, allowing Sonny to enter and close the door behind him. "You don't know me… but you would know my best friend… you let two rounds off into his chest."
The man's face creased with genuine sadness.
Sonny continued as he knelt down next to the man and hammered his fist over and over into the man's body.
The man tried to tuck himself into a ball, his arms doing their best to take the blows but failing. He didn't make a sound and made no attempt to free himself from the beat down.
Sonny could see nothing but red. His body was so pent up with rampant anger that he was relying on each strike to ease the pain. Counting on a little slice of the vengeance, which overwhelmed his heart, to be removed with every crack. It didn't. He was unable to control his desire to inflict horrendous torture on this POS. But the monster didn't do a thing to retaliate and as the hits became further apart, as fatigue set in, Sonny could hear muffled sobs. He paused and frowned, looking down at the man whose face was beaten, bloodied and bruised.
He could feel himself at some kind of crossroads. He couldn't explain it. On the one hand he felt like this 'thing' had submitted enough to his punishment, but on the other it infuriated him that it was so simple. That he hadn't had this guy shaking in his boots, feeling even an ounce of dread like Clay must have thought in the seconds before he was hit.
"He was trying to help someone, and he ended up dying… alone." Sonny yelled, but his voice ended up cracking with grief. He grabbed the man's tee, gripping the material up into and shaking him, looking menacingly into the man's eyes. "You pumped two rounds of led into him and then just watched him bleed out… you didn't even try to save him!" He yelled fiercely. "And you have no idea who you murdered.
Dale's swollen eyes were glazed with tears.
Sonny let go of his grip and stood up, producing the gun from his belt and cocking it. "So, I'm gonna tell you… I'm gonna tell you who you took from this world… and then, so help me god, I'm gonna return the favor."
Dale remained still and silent.
"His name was Clay Spencer… a new father, hadn't even made it to his first wedding anniversary. Thirty-three years old. Tier One Special Warfare Officer and one of the best damn snipers you ever wanted on your side." Sonny struggled to eulogize with the dignity Clay deserved. "He'd only been back stateside a couple of months, after an RPG attack badly injured him and took his leg…" his voice softened, listening to the words. "He worked so fucking hard to get back up for his family… he overcame more than anyone I know in such a short period of time… he was trying to find his place… and he thought he had…" Quinn said as the emotions bubbled over, the gasps of emotion seeped out with every word. He lifted his weapon and aimed at the man. "He started helping Vets who needed it. That's what he was doing… that's what he was doing the night you murdered him."
Dale's heart broke, he didn't know anything other than Clay's name and that he was a Navy. That had made it hard to live with, but now, it was bound to be unbearable. He slowly pushed himself to his feet, raised his hands, closed his eyes and waited.
Sonny was taken aback; this guy was meek and mild mannered. He wasn't the overzealous monster he'd created in his mind.
After what seemed like an eternity, Dale opened his eyes slightly. A tear escaped down his cheek. "Do it…" he whispered.
"You don't think I won't?" Sonny growled as he stepped forward, challenging the man.
"The only reason why I am standing here, is because I haven't had the balls to do it myself." He answered softly, his face wrinkling with the horrendous inner turmoil he was feeling. "Between the bottle of whisky a night and the 9mm by my armchair… you'd think I would be able to… but I can't. God knows I've tried."
Once more, Sonny was caught off guard by the man's demeanor. He was fully expecting this killer to be spouting out every excuse and justification under the sun. He had envisioned a man who would be puffing his chest out and carrying on about the burden of his job as a security guard with absolutely no remorse for what he had done. And yet, this was far from the reality.
"Do it…" Dale whispered again. Pleading.
Sonny's held his gaze on the man for a while before his eyes were drawn to a large, official looking picture frame on the wall of the hallway. Inside were clearly a collection of medals, but none he could properly make out from the angle he was at. "You military?"
The man seemed stunned by the sudden change of tack. He frowned. "For a brief time. Thirty years ago." He answered gently. "But they are not mine… They're my son's."
Sonny lowered the gun and stepped closer to the frame. "Ranger?"
Dale nodded feebly.
Quinn's attention was turned to the medal situated in the middle frame. "Gold star family." Sonny whispered with sadness.
Dale thinned his lips with sadness. "An op, ninety miles outside of Kabul, six years ago."
The anger within Sonny seemed to instantly dissipate. He didn't know how, he didn't fully understand why, but it was a smack out of his insanity and back to reality that he needed. Almost like it was from Clay himself.
"He… he got caught up in a village with another kid after they got separated from their unit. They were holed up with a bunch women and children that had taken shelter. Taliban knew they were there… tried shooting them up."
Sonny listened carefully.
"Then they lobbed a couple of grenades into the structure for good measure. Dillion saw it happen, had enough time to push them together and…" his voice faded.
Sonny's shoulders slumped down.
"He was a good kid. A great kid." Dale continued. "Never walked around with a savior attitude… never wanted to be seen as any kind of hero… he just did what needed to be done." Dale nodded as his face creased once more. "His actions saved 6 women and 17 children that day."
Sonny nodded. "I'm sorry."
"He was my best friend. Right from a little kid. We did everything together. Drove his mom insane." Dale paused. "So, when he died… I allowed my life to fall apart. My wife left… I lost my job with the police department… and I sank into a whole world of despair. Eventually I moved down here to get a change of scenery… got the job with the security company." He stopped short of saying out loud what they both knew the rest of the story. "If he could see me now… after what I did to your brother… he would, rightfully, be heartbroken… for you… not for me."
Sonny looked down, he didn't know how to respond, no words of comfort could make this better. "Your boy sounds a lot like Clay… he didn't have a savior attitude, maybe another kind of attitude sometimes, but he just always did what he knew needed to be done."
"I guess you have to, to be a successful frog man." Dale whispered, unsure if a personal observation would anger Sonny.
"No, he was more than that. He was a leader… and a protector. I know, that put in the same position as your son… he would have done the exact same thing." Sonny paused as he reflected the amount of times they could have lost Clay with all the stupidly risky shit he did and all the close calls he had. "He saw someone who needed saving and he would do something about it. No matter the cost." He thinned his eyes as he really considered what he was saying. "I wish I could be even a tenth of the person he was."
Dale's tears traced down his face. "I cannot even begin to express the heartache I feel that I took him away from you. From you… his family, your team and this world. The fact that I am responsible for putting you all through what I have been through. It's truly unbearable." His voice quivered. "And know, no matter what happens, I will never, ever forgive myself."
Sonny wanted so much to hate this man, to push the proverbial knife in more and tell him that he hoped he suffered with what had happened ever single day until he died, but he couldn't. He was a victim in many ways too and that could not be overlooked even if he wanted to try. That said, he was still fighting a deep internal struggle. How could he look this man in his eyes, accept his genuine expression of regret and guilt, and not feel like he had somehow betrayed Clay? He mulled that question quietly for a moment.
What if not finding peace here betrayed Clay's memory? To do that he had to let go of this hate and anger. He couldn't spend any more time shining a torch on everyone's part, dishing out blame, in a spiteful attempt to make others feel the torment he was feeling. He knew damn well that Spenser wouldn't want any of that. He needed to honor Clay in better ways.
"We're two mikes out." Jason called out as he weaved through the streets.
"Sonny would have had, at least, a 45-minute jump on us." Trent said as he peered around the back of Ray to look out the front.
"We should have called the cops." Ray hissed with regret. His cool, calm and collected demeanor was fractured.
"And get Sonny written up for nothing?" Jason argued.
"Jason, you saw how he was… I think it's fair to say he wasn't going to this dude's house for a relaxed chat." Ray snarled.
"He's not going to hurt the guy… okay?"
Brock and Trent glanced at each other with skepticism.
"You sound like you really believe that Jace." Ray replied. "But I know, behind that facade, you have your doubts too."
Jason's truck came screaming to a halt, and just like they were on a mission the doors flung open.
"His car's here." Jason called out.
"So, he's either getting rid of the body or worse." Brock muttered to Trent.
Jason was first up to the door. Slamming his hands against the aged wood door. "Sonny!"
"Sonny! Come on out." Ray called.
"Jace… we really should call the cops." Trent pushed.
"Not yet!" Jason growled. "Sonny!" he slammed the side of his fist against the door again.
"You wanna breach?" Ray asked with hesitation.
Jason looked to his best friend; he guessed it was an idea. But just as Jason had made his decision in his mind, the door cracked open and an unfamiliar, yet bloodied, man appeared.
Ray exhaled the pent-up anxiety that had built in his chest the entire ride over here.
"Dale Meacham?" Jason asked.
"Yeah…" he said softly.
Jason felt a twinge of bitterness as he looked the man, who took Clay's life, in the eyes. But that wasn't part of his mission. "We are… we're looking for a friend."
"They're looking for me." Sonny called out as he strolled casually down the hallway towards the door.
Ray and Jason's eyes burnt through him.
"Dale…" Sonny said softly as he reached the door, then turning back to the man and held his hand out to shake.
The man looked down. The hand that had laid him with punches and held a gun to his chest, now extended in peace and acceptance. He reached out and clasped Sonny's hand gently. Dale was in complete disbelief that this was how the interaction had ended and how a small amount of weight had been lifted.
The four Bravo members looked at the scene in front of them with suspicion, and utter confusion. Sonny stepped out of the door, past the group and headed out to his vehicle.
Jason glared at the man, unable to bring himself to say anything. Not sorry, not thank you, not have a nice day, not anything. Instead, he turned away.
Ray had caught up to Sonny as he crossed the street. "What the fuck, Sonny… you know how much trouble you could be in right now, right? If he goes to the police."
Sonny reached the door of his vehicle, opened the passenger door and calmly removed the gun from his belt. He cleared the chamber and placed the weapon in the glovebox.
Perry lifted his hands to his head, his eyes widening and slumping his body against the side of the vehicle. "Are you kidding me? You went in armed."
"I did…" Sonny answered with a noticeable nod. "And as I walked to the house, I had every intention of killing the son of a bitch."
Ray frowned. "So how do you go from wanting to kill someone to shaking their hand?" he snarled with frustration.
"This is one of the very few times that I will admit this… but it turns out you were actually right." Sonny replied calmly.
"About what?" He shrugged.
Sonny sighed as he lowered his head. "That all fuckin' roads lead back to this war. As it happens, it's the reason that guy is in this moment too." His pointed towards the house. "I don't know if I would have done what I intended… but something stopped me…I guess rational thoughts prevailed."
Ray exhaled a shaken sigh. He hated to think how close this might have gone but he was so thankful that Sonny snapped out of his anger.
"I miss him Ray…" Sonny lowered his head, his lips thinning with sadness. "But I know that nothing I do will bring him back… and nothing is going to make me feel better. Taking my anger out on everyone, when y'all are suffering too… it's not what Clay would want." His eyes glistened. "I mean, he would expect it… but… he wouldn't want it." He sobbed softly.
Ray winced with sadness as he saw the raw pain in his friend's face. He curled his hand around the back of Sonny's head and pulled him close into an embrace. "It's going to be alright, brother. We'll get through this… I promise you."
Trent, Jason and Brock stood beside Jason's truck and watched the interaction. Hayes could cope with Sonny's fury, but he'd only ever seen intense sadness from him on a couple of occasions, and never as deep as this. He walked over to the pair, closely followed by Brock and Trent. Jason wrapped his arms around them both and buried his head into their shoulders. Brock and Trent rested their hands on Sonny's back gently with support.
"Come on…" Jason said after a minute or two. Wiping his eyes and stiffening his back stoically. "Let's get out of here…"
"I'll ride with you." Ray said softly to Sonny. "No more detours or potential murders for you today."
Sonny nodded and handed him the keys.
Jason opened his front door to find Eric on the porch, dressed in civilian clothes. He slid his hand down the frame and stepped back towards the fridge.
"I came to see how you are going?" Blackburn said as he stepped in.
"Yeah?" Jason gave a subtle glare of suspicion.
"Bravo 1… leader of the pack… doesn't like to show, what he considers as, weakness." Eric continued. "But you lost too."
"It's not the first time and I doubt it will be the last." Jason said softly as he handed his CO a beer. "I'm handling it."
Eric accepted the drink and followed Jason to the small table, both the men sitting down. "What about the rest of Bravo? That kind of thing, losing him how we did, can mess with their heads."
Jason shrugged. "We all with it in our own ways… Ray turns to his faith, Trent and Brock seem to lean on each other and…"
"And Sonny finds solace in the bottom of a whisky bottle and uses his fists to ease the pain?" Blackburn was quick to finish with a serious expression.
Hayes locked eyes with his superior. "I was really appreciating the fact that you came to check on me… but I can't help but think there's a point you're trying to get too."
"Did Sonny end up visiting the security guard today?" Eric replied in strong tone.
Jason didn't want to lie. He was covering far too much right now, and Blackburn certainly didn't deserve it. He went with silence as a response. Breaking eye contact. "Just to talk."
"Jason… from the police report it looked like the man looked like he'd done 10 rounds with Mike Tyson." Eric hissed.
"He called the police?" Jason answered carefully.
"No, he didn't…" Blackburn said. "Ramirez got spooked, called Davis. She called a contact she had in the police department and an anonymous welfare check was put in. Mr. Meacham said he'd been in a bar fight earlier on in the day and refused to change his story."
Jason sighed with relief.
"Look, Jace… I'm not going to pursue something that's not being acted on by law enforcement. That's why I came to you, out of hours. But I need to know that Sonny's squared away… and if he isn't… then you need to consider some alternatives. At the end of the day, he's dangerous if left unchecked."
He lowered his head as he leant forward against the table. "Look… he was angry."
"He's also an adult, who is entrusted with highly dangerous weapons. If he can't reign in his emotions when in a highly charged situation… he has no business being an operator."
"Yeah… well, what that guard got was Sonny reigning it in."
Eric closed his eyes; he could only imagine.
Jason shrugged with defeat. "Ray talked to him… He doesn't think there will be any more issues. I trust Ray's opinion."
"Until the next thing pisses him off."
"Right now I'd take a loose cannon, and all the risks and responsibility associated with it, than lose another one of Bravo."
Eric sighed.
"We've got him…" Jason insisted.
"He's only got so many professional lives, Jason… and he's fast approaching the last one. The prior dust ups he's with team members and with civilians… the other issues we've dealt with, now this… I worry that he becomes emboldened because he gets away with it every single time. If it wasn't for the circumstances, with Clay, I'd be hanging him out to dry right now." Blackburn explained sternly. "This is his last chance before I will be forced to deal him some real consequences."
"Understood." Jason nodded. "Loud and clear."
Blackburn couldn't tell if Jason was taking him seriously or just trying to pacify him.
"Can we just… stop…" Jason said, lifting his beer up. "Stop talking about work and enjoy this beer."
Eric paused for moment before nodding. Grabbing his drink and lifting it up. "To Clay…" he said softly.
Jason nodded. "To Clay…" he whispered.