A/N: This chapter's pretty violent, and deals with vengeance-driven murders, so consider yourselves warned.

xxxx

Pooch had always been protective of his teammates. He had started to see his teammates as something close to brothers, especially in the past year, and he was particularly defensive of Cougar and Jensen. Of course, Cougar hardly needed protecting most of the time (mostly because he was a scary bastard most of the time) which left Jensen to take the brunt of Pooch's protection, which had gotten worse since Pooch had become a father.

And while he whined and complained about it, pointedly glared whenever Pooch referred to him as 'kid,' Pooch suspected that Jensen kind of liked the attention, maybe didn't mind that for once in his life, there was someone looking out for him.

That protective streak was sure as hell helping Pooch now as he stubbornly ducked under the water again, refusing to give up on Jensen no matter how long it took him. A third dive and Pooch's waving hands felt something, maybe an arm or a shoulder, and he tugged at it, swimming determinedly to the surface. He popped up gasping, lungs burning from the prolonged submersion.

Jensen popped up next to him, silent and still.

"Oh, nononono," Pooch whispered, though he really shouldn't have been surprised that Jensen wasn't breathing, considering. That didn't make it any easier.

"Come on kid, hang on," Pooch muttered, towing Jensen's still, limp form back towards the docks. He hauled Jensen up onto the ground, laying him out on his back and feeling for a nonexistent pulse. He swore under his breath when he realized that Jensen's swollen and bloody hands were tied in front of him, making chest compressions impossible. He fished a knife from his pocket and quickly cut through the rope, apologizing under his breath as he nicked Jensen's swollen wrists, then laid his arms out at his sides.

Pooch looked at Jensen for a minute, taking in the dried and fresh blood, the dirt and the grime that even the water hadn't been able to wash away. Jensen wasn't wearing a shirt and Pooch could see all of his wounds in horrifying clarity. For a second, he lost all hope, realized with a sinking heart that even if he could get Jensen breathing again, the tech was still seriously injured and bordering on hypovolemic shock, and what the hell were they going to do?

The thought left as quickly as it came. Pooch wasn't letting Jensen go without a fight. He intertwined his fingers and locked his arms and started pressing rhythmically, counting in his head and praying in his head, then breathing, then pressing again and again and again.

He's not dead, he's not dead, he's not dead…

A bit of water finally bubbled out of his lips, but his chest remained still, and Pooch knew there was probably a lot more water in Jensen's lungs that needed to come out before the tech could breathe again. Taking a deep breath, Pooch started the cycle of compression-prayer-breath again.

When Jensen finally coughed up more water, more than seemed possible, Pooch sat back for a second and let himself sigh in relief.

Unfortunately, the relief was short-lived, as Jensen's breathing remained ragged and shallow, and his pulse was weak and irregular. Fresh blood was welling up from points all over his body, and Pooch cursed under his breath.

"Jensen? Come on kid, look at me. Jake? Can you hear me?" He slapped Jensen's cheek as he spoke, shook his friend by the shoulders, swore again when there was no response.

"Okay, I'm going back to the van, okay? I'm gonna get the first-aid kit and then we're going to wait for Clay and Cougar to get back, and then you're going to be fine. Okay? Just hang on."

Pooch carefully stripped his shirt off, tucking it over Jensen's shivering torso, then ran back to the van, shaking his head in an effort to clear his thoughts.

He's not dying, he can't be dying, he's going to be fine.

Maybe if he repeated it often enough, it would become true.

xxxx

It was with a sick sense of satisfaction that Clay approached his downed target. He wasn't sure which one he'd hit, but he didn't care all that much. Cougar would take care of the other. They would both get their revenge.

It was the smaller of the two henchmen, the one with greasy hair and a bad soul-patch, and he was rolling on the ground in agony as he clutched at his leg.

Clay smiled.

He stepped forward and knelt next to the man, watching him groan until the man finally looked up and noticed Clay staring at him.

"Hi there," Clay said amiably. The man stopped moving abruptly, gritting his teeth and glaring defiantly at Clay.

"Just shoot me already!" Soul-Patch yelled, wincing in pain. Clay laughed.

"That wouldn't be any fun, now would it?" Clay leant forward as he spoke, gripped the man around the throat.

"You beat my friend within an inch of his life, you son of a bitch. You think I'm just going to shoot you?"

"Listen, I didn't do the beating, that was all Randall-"

Clay cut him off with a punch to the face.

"I hate beggars," he said in a low voice. "What did you do then, hold him? Did you pick him back up when he was too weak to stand? Were you the one who held Randall's water bottle for him to drink from when he got tired? You pathetic piece of shit, don't you dare tell me you didn't do anything."

Soul-Patch truly looked terrified now, choking and gasping for air, his face taking on a red tone.

"No one ever, ever fucks with my team and lives to repeat their mistake," Clay said finally, pressing his gun up against the man's temple.

A single gunshot rang out.

xxxx

"I am going to like seeing you die," Cougar said quietly, looking at the larger of the two henchmen. The man looked back at him, clutching his shoulder. Cougar was wrapping his own arm with his bandanna, keeping himself from wincing despite the pain it caused.

"You can try," the man spat back, and Cougar laughed, a humorless sound that bubbled up from the back of his throat.

"I will succeed," he said, tying the bandanna off. He stood and approached the man, squatting down in front of him.

"You tortured my friend," Cougar whispered, glaring at the man maliciously.

"I listened to him scream," the man answered, a cruel smile curling at his mouth.

Cougar promptly shot him in the thigh.

The man cried out but then looked back up at Cougar.

"He begged for his mother, the little bastard."

Another gunshot and his other thigh started gushing blood.

"He…cried…asked for…you to…come save him," the man said, and Cougar hesitated. "Said…Cougar wouldn't…leave him."

"He was right," Cougar said, and a final gunshot rang out.

xxxx

Their first-aid kit was well stocked, compared to most, but it was still pathetically ineffective against the myriad of Jensen's injuries.

Pooch had managed to get some painkillers down his throat, though he knew they would likely be ineffective, and was working on cleaning out the wounds that peppered Jensen's body. He tried to keep himself objective, tried not to remember that this was Jensen he was cleaning up.

It wasn't Jensen's hand that he was trying not to injure further, and it wasn't Jensen's torso that was so heavily bruised, not Jensen's abdomen that was rigid and hard and probably full of blood. And it sure as hell wasn't Jensen's shoulder that was red and inflamed and that seemed to be leaking as much pus as blood.

Holy shit.

"You're going to be okay, buddy," Pooch whispered, trying not to feel the heat radiating off his friend as he leaned Jensen's limp body against his shoulder. He wiped feebly at the oozing exit wound, closed his eyes for a second and quelled the rising panic and nausea, then pressed a piece of gauze firmly against his friend's shoulder.

"Pooch," Cougar said suddenly, and Pooch hadn't even heard the sniper come up. "Help me get him in the van."

Pooch nodded, gently tucking his hands under Jensen's armpits and around his battered torso. Cougar picked up his legs with equal care, and they walked as quickly as they could back towards the van. Clay already had it idling and they roared away from the docks as soon as everyone was in.

"The sons of bitches that did this-" Pooch started, and Cougar gave him a small nod in response. "Good," Pooch said, then turned back to washing Jensen's wounds. Cougar wordlessly started helping him, absently running one hand through Jensen's hair.

"How is he?" Clay asked suddenly, and Cougar looked up grimly.

"Drive faster," he said.