Author's Note: Gosh, why are you all so kind and wonderful? Thank you so much for your support and for sticking with this story. I really, really, really appreciate it. Wowie zowie, all your reviews bring an extra bit of happiness to my life. And I'm glad I can share a tale with you all! It's about time I wrap it up, but there will be one more chapter after this one. Thanks, and happy reading!

CHAPTER 5

Adam didn't even stir on their way to the landing strip. Even with the constant dips of an uneven road, he remained totally unconscious. McG was getting more nervous with every minute, wondering if the saline wasn't enough. If maybe Adam's body was struggling to recover from the blood loss.

McG pressed his fingers against Adam's wrist, feeling the thready thrum of a heartbeat under the skin. He looked up over the cab of the truck, spotting the landing strip ahead. The plane was already prepped and waiting, sitting alone on one end of the strip.

Keeping his hand in Adam's wrist, McG turned to Preach at his side.

"We're going to have to move fast. I don't like his color."

Preach simply nodded, looking ready to spring at any moment.

They were all anxious. And it would only get better when Adam was in capable hands.

The truck drove straight onto the tarmac, drawing up to the plane. As the vehicle came to a rough stop, McG looked at Adam, surprised to see the team leader's eyes opened to slits.

"Top? You with me, Top?"

Adam's expression faintly twisted in confusion, his blue eyes squinting in the sunlight. "Wh'r'm I?"

The muddled haze in Adam's gaze was unsettling. It was so unlike him. McGuire's unease grew, and his worried eyes sought out Preach's. He turned back to Adam.

"We just finished an op, remember? We're on our way home."

Adam closed his eyes, inhaling a shaky breath. "Don' r'member."

Sweet hell, they had to get him home.

"We can talk about it on the plane, but we've got to get you on board," McG replied as he and Preach moved into position. They didn't waste any time, heaving Adam up to haul him to the tailgate. Adam let out a weak cry of pain, generally unable to contribute to his transfer. His adrenaline stores were clearly depleted, and after all the effort and pushing of the last day, he was simply left with bone-deep exhaustion and aching pain.

They just had to make it through the next handful of hours.

Just four more hours.

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The flight back to Turkey was quiet, interrupted only by the roar of the plane's engines. Adam wore a permanent grimace, huddled in his seat with a foggy stare. He flinched with every bump of turbulence, shutting his eyes until the pain dulled.

The landing had been hard on all of them. Adam's face went even whiter with the soft drop onto the tarmac, his ribs protesting the very movement. The sudden shift in his color felt like a silent scream, and they could all feel sympathetic aches in their own ribcages.

As soon as the plane had slowed enough, McG was up and out of his seat, checking on their team leader. The medic was somewhat stunned that Adam hadn't already slipped back into unconsciousness, considering everything the blond had been through.

He really was as stubborn as they came.

The plane finally came to a stop, and in a matter of minutes, the hatch was open and a medical team was quickly making their way in. McG moved out of the way, relieved to see a bag of blood in one man's hand as they descended on the disoriented team leader.

The team practically sagged in relief when they saw the IV go in Adam's arm, starting the blood transfusion.

And as Adam was prepared for transport, the team collected their things for a quick trip to the hospital.

There was no way they'd leave his side until he was well on his way to recovery.

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It was a weird feeling. The world felt heavy and light at the same time, creating the strangest sensation. Adam didn't like it. It felt off. Clumsy. He didn't like feeling clumsy.

Fighting through the thick cloud in his brain, Adam struggled to open his eyes, his lids heavy. He blinked against the blurry, bright image, pressing for clarity. After what felt like eternity, he finally managed to see a bit more clearly, his sights settling on a strangely familiar arrangement of white ceiling tile.

He'd been here before, but when?

Damn, his brain was moving slowly. He frowned, his brows dipping in confusion.

"Top?"

He moved his head sluggishly to his right, blinking against the somewhat fuzzy outline of Joseph McGuire. "McG?" He blinked harder.

The medic grinned. "The one and only."

Preach came into view as he stepped closer to McG's side. "How're feeling, Top?"

Adam swallowed past the sandpaper in his throat. "Fine." The answer was out of his mouth before he could even think about it. Must've been out of habit.

"Bullshit."

Jaz. That sounded like Jaz.

He turned to look at his other side, seeing Jaz and Amir. Jaz wore a humored smirk while the ex-spy looked on with that hide-all expression. Amir raised an eyebrow, the action betraying his neutral mask.

"I'm starting to think you don't know the definition of 'fine,'" Amir mumbled, tilting his head a little.

Adam was coming more to his senses, becoming more and more aware. Hospital. He was in a hospital. That explained why the ceiling tiles were so familiar.

He looked down, eyes catching the bandaging swathed around one arm. His stare flicked to the other arm. His hand was in a heavy cast, the stiff material wandering up the limb, only to stop at another circle of bandaging.

That's right. His left hand was broken. Dammit.

His head fell back to his pillow with exasperation. He wouldn't be cleared for missions for weeks.

"Doc says you should make a full recovery," McG explained, his posture relaxed but tired. "Might be a long recovery, and you're gonna have to take it easy for a while."

Adam forced a small smile. "Well, at least I'll make a full recovery."

McG dropped a friendly hand on Adam's shoulder. "Silver lining, right?"

The team leader's smile broadened to a weary grin. He was so tired. His eyelids were already growing heavy again. The weird floaty and painless feeling wasn't helping. "What drugs am I on?"

"It doesn't matter," Preach replied, his arms folded. "The mission's over, we're back in Turkey, and you have no reason to refuse painkillers. Just enjoy the ride."

Adam fought back a scoff. Enjoy the ride. Typical Preach advice. But Adam was half surprised the older man hadn't said something like "Move with the universe, and let the universe move through you" or "Time is the master of healing, you just have to let it do its work."

Not that Adam was complaining.

Preach looked the team leader over, noting how much better Adam's color looked. A healthy pigment was quickly returning to the blond's cheeks, marred only by the vivid bruise on his cheekbone. The purple had drifted up around Adam's eye, darkening the delicate tissue. It looked bad, but it would never amount to the sickly paleness of Adam's skin the day before.

The communications specialist looked around at the team, eyes roving over their faces. Their expressions were brighter. More at ease. For the first time in hours and hours, they looked…comfortable.

Preach smiled to himself, listening to Jaz's ruthless teasing. Things were already getting back to normal, a silent celebration of Adam's return to health and awareness.

They made it through. Somehow, they'd made it through.

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Preach leaned back in his chair, resting the heels of his boots on the edge of Adam's bed. It was the middle of the night, and Adam was soundly asleep. Barring any random complications, he would be discharged in the morning, but the team was still hesitant to leave him alone. Thinking of the bloody, ragged wounds and the deep bruising, they felt more protective than usual—which wasn't wholly unwarranted.

But after an op, the team needed sleep, so Preach offered to keep watch while they all went back to base for some shuteye. Then at least they could have the peace of mind knowing that Adam was with somebody they trusted. Somebody that could be there if anything happened.

Preach looked around the dimly lit room, his thoughts drifting. It was incredibly quiet. Normally, Preach valued the silence. It was a great time for reflection and meditation. But this time, it felt different. Something else lurked in the shadows, whispering of darker things.

For a minute, Preach wondered if it was his own residual fear from the whole ordeal. If maybe part of him couldn't let go of the terror that'd pervaded his mind from the moment he'd heard Jaz's voice through the comms. But it wasn't that. It was something else.

He heard the soft rustle of fabric and turned to look at Adam, eyes catching the blond's troubled expression as he slept. The team leader was breathing a bit heavier, his body tense.

That's what it was. The nightmares. The thoughts that you just can't shake after something like this. Even when your wounds are stitched and your broken bones are set, there's that feeling you can't bury. An overwhelming darkness that follows you. That haunts your dreams and settles in your thoughts when it's too quiet.

The awful memories of what you've been through.

And it was hanging over Adam.

Preach pulled his feet off the bed and scooted his chair closer, quickly grabbing Adam's good hand in a tight grip. No matter how tough they were—no matter how tough Adam was—they were only human. Humans still hurt. Still struggled to recover from something as harrowing as torture.

Something as traumatic as another human choosing to hurt you for a response.

"Hey, Adam," Preach called, his voice low and even as he gently shook the team leader's shoulder. "Adam, it's just a dream."

The blond startled awake, his blue eyes snapping open. He huffed as his gaze searched the corners and shadows of the room.

"You're safe, Adam. It was just a dream," Preach soothed, careful to keep a calm voice. Adam's breathing began to slow, and his bright eyes continued to smoothly search the room, less frantic than seconds before. When he was satisfied, he looked at Preach.

"Preach?"

The older man nodded, his hand still clasped tightly to Adam's. "You wanna talk about it?"

Adam was quick to shake his head, his brow furrowed. "No. No, I'm fine."

Without missing a beat, Preach shot him a knowing stare. "Come on, Adam. You know me. And admitting a weakness doesn't make you any less of a person."

Adam stared at his lap for several seconds, blinking harshly. He'd always been a quiet sufferer. Everyone on the team was stubborn in their own way. They were so set on being strong and in control that they rejected any notion of weakness and—more often than not—pretended that everything was fine.

But somehow, Adam was better at keeping his pain to himself.

Most likely, the team didn't even know Adam had nightmares. He had them, just like the rest of them, but it was a silent, hidden anguish. After a nightmare, Jaz would wake up and wander out to the kitchen. McG would drift into a corner to recover alone. And Amir would put his rage into a bout of midnight cooking. But Adam…Adam just pretended to go to sleep like nothing happened.

And only Preach noticed.

Sometimes Preach wondered if Adam had seen too much in his life. That maybe he was too well practiced at covering up the hurt and the turmoil. The team leader was always openly concerned with his team, but when it came to himself, nothing fazed him.

And it was difficult thinking about what the younger man had gone through to get to that point.

"Top?"

Adam looked up at him, his eyes hard. He opened his mouth to speak, but the words didn't come right away. "I…"

Preach waited patiently, never moving his eyes from Adam's.

"In the dream, it wasn't me getting tortured." Adam looked down at his knees, a pained anger biting into his expression.

"It was Jaz."

The bitterness and pain in Adam's voice was hard to listen to, and Preach did his best to keep a strong front. He understood. Somehow, Adam's brain was combining the feelings of failure from Jaz's capture and the fresh memories of his own torture.

And of course, Adam's mind thought of Jaz before himself.

"Hell, Preach. There was nothing I could do. She was alone and in pain, and there was nothing I could do." Adam looked back up at the older man, a softness in his eyes that he reserved for his teammates. "I was only there for a few hours. She was there for more than a day."

Preach quickly realized they weren't talking about the dream anymore.

"She was there for more than a day, Preach. Alone. Most likely not knowing if anyone was coming for her." Adam's stare fell back to his legs, the anger draining away to leave only tired sorrow. "What that must've been like…I can't imagine."

Preach inhaled slowly, trying to arrange his thoughts. He let the silence linger, wary of a hasty response. "But we did come for her." Blue eyes shifted to his. "We came for her, and she knew we did everything we could to get her out of there. And she's strong, Top." Adam kept his eyes on Preach's, his usual strength crumbling a little.

Preach continued, a respectful warmth in his eyes. "And you did do something. You did everything you could until you succeeded. You didn't sleep until we found her, and you listened to that tape a thousand times. Hell, you even shot a guy to get information. If that doesn't make you a damn good C.O. and teammate, then I don't know what does."

The look in Adam's eyes broke Preach a little. He could see Adam continuing to question himself, to believe that he could've done more. But there was a glimmer of something else. Of a true belief that maybe he really did do his best. That he was every bit the man Preach believed him to be.

Adam smiled a little, only a hint of his usual strong demeanor in his face. "Thanks, Preach."

Preach's lips stretched in a warm curve, a faint feeling of worry niggling in the back of his mind.

"Anytime, Top."