Howdy All!

I've been gone so long, I've forgotten where I was going, so wave a what-the-f-hand and carry on.

I'll admit, I was iffy about the move to Paramount+, decided to give up my daily trip at work to the pop machine for a $1.75 diet Coke and pay for a streaming service (our first!)...I'm just not that fond of personal drama storylines... I watch GH for that...yeah, yeah, yeah 'realistic' portrayal of military life...I get it, just, it doesn't hold my interest.

Baffled, Clay displayed the universal 'hands out, palms up' shrug, looked at Jeff who gave him a lopsided grin.

"Medics,' Jeff drawled. "Bat shit crazy, all of 'em." He pointed to himself with a maniacal grin. "Except me."

Clay rolled his eyes. "What's up his ass?" He kicked off his unlaced boots, shimmied out of his jeans. "What'd I do?"

Jeff reached out, nearly knocked him down, gave his shoulder a comforting, balance-steadying squeeze and sighed. "You didn't do anything. Trent's possessive...always wants his own way."

"Uh…." Christ, he was tired. He wanted a nap, both to catch up on some sleep and to see if he'd feel any better when he woke up, and he intended to take one. "…..of…uh, me?" What happened to their claims he was a stranger? They had to get to know him? "What sense does that make?"

"Not so much you, but what he considers his." Jeff stepped towards the door. "He doesn't like the doctor here. Come on."

"Where you going? Wait, me too? Where'm I going? Hey?" He hopped on one foot, this sure was a fucked-up way of being accepted by Bravo. "Shit," he'd been told Bravo would fight to keep anything theirs, is this how they did it? "Where'd you come from anyway?!"

"Do you know if Sonny left you in the infirmary before he called Trent?"

"What?" He tied the strings on the flannel pajama pants he'd put on - because you know, he'd intended to go to bed - followed Jeff out the door. "Did who do what when?"

"Never mind." It really didn't matter. Nothing was going to appease Trent except a pound of Sonny's flesh.

()()()

Trent stomped across the yard. Anyone in his way, had the good sense to step aside and allow the, 'hands-fisted-at-his-sides-cause-he's-on-a-mission', man pass by.

He. Was. Fuming.

That was twice now, Sonny hadn't bothered to tell him Clay was or had been, in the infirmary – there would not be a third time.

Not only had Sonny left the kid alone with the asshat after he'd specifically been told not to, he'd left the kid alone in the infirmary for an undetermined number of hours. And though he'd yet to confirm it, he damn well knew Clay had been in the infirmary when Sonny had finally made contact with Bravo at the camp.

The burly Texan hadn't been honest. He would pay for that. And pay dearly.

It wasn't that the infirmary doctor wasn't qualified or capable, it was the asshat looked down on him for demanding answers and wanting information – like he wasn't capable of understanding what the man might tell him.

'Cause, he was, you know, a mere medic. Since when did that translate to: medics are stupid?

It had taken Doc and Blackburn to find out what medication the man had given Clay after the incident in the cafeteria and it hadn't been anything more than a mild, oral steroid. Like, pfft, the asshat couldn't divulge that simple information without threats from Blackburn?

His beef was, he barely understood the kid and he didn't need some asshat who didn't know Bravo's rookie at all, treating him and refusing to share what he was being treated for. And no, he didn't care that reasoning didn't make any sense….people saw doctors everywhere, all the time, sure….but this was Clay and he was theirs and no one was going to keep them away from him.

He was aware someone dogged his heels but didn't slow up or alter course. Most likely Clay and Jeff. Clay would continue to follow him while Jeff would split off, find Jason.

He didn't care. The asshat wasn't in any immediate danger from him. He trusted Doc to stifle any attempt the man made to 'treat Clay as he saw fit'. Sonny though, oh when the time came to confront him, his ass would bruise from how hard he hit the floor.

He understood with Doc off base, Clay would have seen the infirmary doctor - that wasn't the problem, and not what he held against Sonny. Trent been very specific about his instructions to Bravo Three…there was no way they could have been misinterpreted…the kid should never have been left alone while in the asshats care.

Sonny had disobeyed and lied to him. That wasn't going to happen again.

As he stomped, he tried to remember if he'd given Sonny those instructions while at camp, or after he'd returned to base with the kid and called in, decided it didn't matter. Sonny was not stupid, he knew how Trent felt about the asshat and when he'd found out Doc wasn't on base, he should have known to keep Clay with him.

Period. End of the story. Matter over. Done.

He entered the infirmary, ignored any and all attempts to get his attention, halt his direction, stop him from going where he wanted to go. He didn't care he was told the doctor had patients, was on rounds.

Rounds in an infirmary? Really? Did they really expect him to believe that?

He glanced over his shoulder as a calm voice shushed and soothed attitudes and ruffled feathers. Huh, he'd guessed backwards. Jeff had stayed on his heels and Clay had diverted off.

He returned to the information desk, wheeled the woman in her chair-on-wheels out of his way, ignored both her verbal and physical attempts to stop him, tapped the computer keyboard, searched for patient files. Shit, he was gonna need Randy.

With a slap at the offending keys, he moved on.

The infirmary wasn't large and it didn't take him long to track down the doctor who, seated and sipping coffee with a donut, merely gazed at him unfazed. On rounds, his ass!

"You."

Jeff lounged leisurely, arms crossed over his chest, in the doorway. "Now, Trent….see, look, Clay went to get…..Uh, hey, we should wait…."

"You write on his chart," began Trent.

"Oh, you don't want to wait then? Jeff mentally urged Clay to make all haste retrieving Jason. "See, maybe you….."

"…you treated him for asthma, even under a vague, unverified suspicion," continued Bravo's medic.

"I'll take that as a no." Jeff sighed. "Great." The medic knew better than to curse or yell or threaten violence, right?

Wrong.

"…I'll break every bone in your hand." Trent smiled, but it was not a nice smile. By remaining calm and in control, if he were reported, he could – and would – claim he'd been teasing. Speaking rhetorically, not literally. A mindless, harmless threat people made hundreds of times. Jeff would never rat him out and there were no other witnesses.

"Yay, me." Jeff muttered. What a truly, evil smile! He shuddered. Hello, Bravo One? Anytime now. Yo, where the hell are you? Status of your arrival? "Trent, hey now,"

"I beg your pardon?"

"That kid doesn't have asthma and no way, am I going to let you say otherwise." Trent reached around the asshat to the desk behind, slapped the keyboard until the monitor flickered alive and a generic screen flashed into view. "Bring up his file."

"Let me?"

"Now!"

Jeff decided it was time to step in. "Howdy-ho there," he cheerfully chirped, gave the wide-eyed man a friendly wave, wondered if the asshat knew Jeff was the reason Trent was being well-behaved. "Say, our Doc will be back in….."

Blang! Stomp!
Footsteps.
Blang! Stomp!
Heavy footsteps.
Blang! Stomp!
Voices.
Blang! Stomp!
Raised voices.
Blang! Stomp! Blang! Stomp!
Raised voices arguing.
Blang! Stomp! Stomp! Blang! Stomp! Stomp!
Sounds of unhurried movement.
Blang, blang! Stomp, stomp!
And the air trumpeted the impending arrival of a herd of elephants.
Blangstompblangstomp! Stompstompstomp!

Annnnnd the room filled with large men who were in various emotional states: angry, impatient, curious, frustrated, amused, irritated, exasperated.

"The hell's going on?"

"Trent?"

"Dude, where are your pants?"

"Yo, what's up?"

"Hey Jeff, babysitting Bravo's getting to be a habit, huh?"

"Why does it always gotta be something?"

"You know what's going on?"

"You're disrupting the doctor's work Trent."

"What now?"

"Say, uh Trent, you forget something?"

"Yeah, why ain't you dressed?"

"Hey doc."

"Howdy-ho there, medicine man."

"I don't believe this."

"What'd you do?"

"You know about this?"

Trent ignored everyone, didn't even turn around but knew more than just Bravo had arrived. "Randy, get me his file."

Randy stepped forward, pushed between Jeff and Matt. "Boss?" He looked at Jason who nodded, waved him on. He hooked a swivel stool on wheels with an ankle, rolled it close, sat down. "What am I looking for?"

Trent might not care who all had entered the room, but Jeff did: Randy, Matt, Chris, Seth, Kenny, Karl…..he was hoping Sonny wasn't among them….oh, *sigh*, shit, he was. Damn.

He was able to catch Jason's eye, communicate silently that Trent would not like seeing Sonny. Though Jason nodded, he didn't have Sonny removed. Though this was hardly the right place, it was the right time, so he'd allow a fight, let everyone catcall, let the combatants burn off emotions, there were enough of them, the fight would be broken up before anyone got hurt badly enough, their ability to do the job they were here for was compromised.

Trent caught sight of Sonny, and all thoughts of hacking files were forgotten.

"You." He stabbed the air in front of Sonny's face with a pointed finger. "You sonofabitch."

Sonny knew that look, that tone, knew it was directed at him, but played stupid anyway. A fist was gonna come his way, and with the guilt gnawing a hole through his belly, he wasn't gonna do anything to stop it. Well, he hedged, he didn't want to have to see a dentist over here, so yeah, maybe he would.

"Me?" He managed to sound affronted, but not angry. Woot!

"Yeah, you." Trent began his stalking routine. The room was small and crowded, but Sonny did an admirable job of walking backwards in a repeated, uneven circle without hitting anyone or anything. "What did I tell you? You were there when I said it and I know I said it, 'cause I was there when I said it."

"Dude, you say a lot of shit."

"Take him back? See him to Doc?" Trent taunted. "Words like that maybe?"

"Doc wasn't here."

"Don't leave him with the asshat." Trent continued. "Don't leave him in the infirmary. Don't leave him alone."

"You didn't say that when I was where you were when you said it."

"Don't."

"Now, Trent look…." Sonny began placatingly. "I don't know what you think happened….."

"I don't think it…..I know it, you ass."

"Ho, that's how it's gonna be then? Resorting to name calling?"

Trent ignored the taunt. "You wanna hide something from me, make sure he looks like he did when I gave him to you."

"Gave him to me?" Sonny scoffed. "The hell dude!" He scratched his chin, removed his hat, ran a hand through his hair, replaced his hat, adjusted it. "Wait, what?" he tried, truly tried, to make sense of what the hell Trent was ranting about. Truly tried and truly failed. "Hide from you? The hell did I hide? When?"

"Jesus Christ Sonny! Do you have any idea what you've done?!"

And finally – finally – Sonny took exception to the tone directed at him and him alone, and took a firm stand. "For Fuck's Sake Trent, he's a grown ass man capable of taking care of himself!" There was a tinge of anger in his voice – just a tiny tinge. "He's what 25? 27? Hey, lookit that! He got all grown up all by his little-ole self with no help from you!" He clapped his palms to his cheeks in exaggerated mock sarcasm. "Ohhh!"

"You're always dense," Trent spat. "Why you gotta be stupid too? I don't give you orders because I think you shouldn't eat or shower or do whatever the fuck it is you disappear and do."

"That's the thing Trent, you ain't no one to give orders and I sure as well don't gotta take 'em when you do!"

Patience shot, Trent yelled. "JESUS CHRIST! IT'S NOT ABOUT YOU SONNY! He could have died! Do you get that?"

Sonny snorted. He didn't much like being yelled at, being made to feel worse when he already felt like shit over how the kid had looked when he'd retrieved him from the infirmary. "Melodramatic much?"

"If I didn't carry oxygen….."

"Yeah," Ray spoke up. "About that, since when, do you?"

"What does it matter?" Seth asked crossly, earned a look of reprove from Bravo Two, shrugged.

"Not now," Chris whispered humorously. "I wanna see the first punch."

"Laying it on a bit thick there, aren't you pal?" Sonny drawled sarcastically. "Remember his job? What it is? What he does? What he's trained for?"

"You ever experience not being able to breathe before?"

"He's a fucking trained killer Trent. Doesn't need anyone to hold his hand." Sonny took a deep breath, he'd about had it. "And I'm getting right sick and tired of your high and mighty mightiness." And being cut off or interrupted and to add to his irritation, he was smugly informed by a smirking medic that there was nothing he could do about it.

"OhOhOh..." Matt crowed, "He didn't like that!"

Fuming, Sonny looked at Jason, but the look on his boss's face proved the mouthy medic right – there was nothing Sonny could do and that infuriated him. He took another deep breath, then another, decided not to back down…might as well get this fight over with.

"His mouth flaps any other time. How about, you order him around?"

"I have. I did. I do." Trent stared. "But when he passes out and can't tell me his own fucking name and doesn't know who I am, I gotta depend on…..even you."

Damn, that was an insult straight to his face.

"You always gotta get your way, don't you?" Sonny sneered. "I left him in qualified medical care." He swatted away the hand that went up to stop him from talking. "Get your hand out of my face Trent. I've been patient, I've humored you, I've played along while you dilly-dally with Doc about fruit but I'm done."

"Done? You're done? Oh, you're an asshole." Trent scoffed. "You have no idea what you've done."

"Then TELL me Trent. Tell me what I did that is so fucking horrible! Tell me what I did to damage a GROWN man, leaving him with a doctor far more qualified than you of taking care of him!"

That did it.

The deadly left fist came flying at his face so fast, he didn't have time to react – when asked about it later, he'd admit he never saw it coming. The iron blow caught him on the jaw, rocked him backwards. He stumbled, hip crashing into a table. It scratched across the floor with a screeching scrape – like nails on a chalkboard – as he flailed, arms pin-wheeling to keep his feet.

Crash!

"You gonna let this happen?" Ray asked Jason with a frown of disapproval when Sonny hit the floor with his ass. THUD! He flinched.

"Yup."

"Seriously?" Slam! He hunched a shoulder with a wince.

"Yup."

Sonny gained his feet, allowed a third punch – the following two to his gut – then with a roar, lowered his head and charged!

Everyone moved out of the way, the men from Support backed into the hallway. While it would be entertaining to watch a fight between two of Bravo's elite members, it was unlikely Jason would let it get too involved.

"Really Jay?"

"Really Ray."

Normally the two would be evenly matched, but Sonny was rested and well-fed while Trent had just come in from the field where he'd had little sleep and consumed meals that while supposedly nutritious, still came of out of a sealed packet.

Then again, Trent had righteous condemnation on his side, while Sonny, though he'd never admit it, wallowed under a heavy load of guilt.

"Jason?" Ray questioned after a crash upended the desk.

"What?"

"You gonna stop this?" The table scraped across the floor, hit the wall, punched a hole as the duo fell over and across it. became entangled within its legs.

"Nope." He hitched a hip against the door frame, continued to watch.

"Now?" he questioned again when Sonny attempted to body slam Trent to the floor but the medic evaded the grab, snapped the Texan's head back with an upper jab to his teeth.

"Not yet."

Sonny went backwards over a chair, took Trent with him who easily tucked and rolled, came up on his feet, met Sonny's charge with a fist to the Texan's eye.

"How about now?"

"In a minute."

A right uppercut and Trent rocked back on his heals.

"Now?"

Trent lashed out with his left fist, Sonny's cheek split, blood spurted, he landed hard on his ass for either the 3rd or 4th time, Jason had lost count, and before Sonny could get up, the boss of Bravo snapped his fingers.

"Now." He agreed.

Kenny and Karl stepped forward to do what they had done so many times before….separate Sonny from whomever.

"Okay there, big boy." Kenny cooed. "Let's get you some ice, you're gonna have a hard time seeing outta that eye." Karl handed the bleeding man a towel, kept his other hand on Sonny's chest which heaved with exertion. "Maybe chewing." He whistled. "Damn, you know better than to go pissing him off."

"The hell's your problem Trent." Sonny spat blood, held the towel to his cheek. Christ, his ass stung. It was gonna look like a bruised peach. "I didn't do anything except not tell you I left him in the infirmary. And that ain't wrong. Not like I left him out in the woods to find his own way back." He accepted an ice pack from the silent infirmary doctor who surveyed his destroyed room in dismay.

"You likely ruined his career."

Sonny opened his mouth to snap back, clacked his jaw shut. Winced. Opened it again, clacked it shut. Winced. Opened it a third time and just gaped around a permanent wince.

"Care to explain Trent?" Ray asked calmly.

"Contrary to what present company thinks," death glare at the asshat, glare of anger at Sonny. "I'm not some dumb field medic who only knows how to stop bleeding."

"When'd I ever say that?" Sonny mumbled.

Ray looked up, silently counted to 10. "And that means what?"

"Any military doctor can add to a medical file and that diagnosis can follow you." Bravo's medic still hadn't calmed down and Ray cast Jason yet another telling glance, was again dismissed with a lame shoulder shrug. "The asshat gave him an inhaler….." he paused, glared at Sonny, clenched his fists, "….used to treat asthma."

And everyone began talking at once.

"Right."

"Yup."

"Ain't that why Blackburn got us Doc?"

"Asthma?"

"Wait….he can't operate with asthma, can he?"

"That's serious."

"What are we gonna do about it?"

"Can we hide it, you think?"

"Do something Trent."

"He has asthma?"

"No." Trent said firmly.

"You're not a doctor. You can't make that determination." Ray pointed out.

"Asthma won't be an automatic military discharge." Lisa piped up.

"She's right, a medical diagnosis is not necessarily career ending."

"It is for him in the field."

"He can be an instructor,"

"Work in Ops,"

"Ooooh, translate for Mandy."

"Teach guys how to shoot."

"Nothing wrong with his mind, right?"

"Will restrict him to desk duty."

"If they don't kick him out."

"Nothing's been proven though, right?"

"Doesn't matter, if it's in his file."

"Doesn't he have to be tested for that?"

"They run tests, to know that, right?"

"They do tests Sonny?"

"WHAT IN TARNATION IS GOING ON HERE?" Doc pushed his way through a throng of bodies that did not easily give way but chorused a warm greeting.

"Hey Doc,"

"I go away for ONE day!" Doc tut-tutted, shook his head, flapped his hands about. "Trent?" He paused, squinted. "I say my good man, you aren't wearing any pants."

"Was more than a day." Sonny corrected. Still sulking, it sounded like a pout. Had their Doc been here where he belonged, none of this ever would have happened.

"I'm in." Randy announced. He'd merely picked up the laptop before the table had been crashed into, rolled into a corner, ignored the ruckus around him and worked diligently through the melee.

"I need a table." Doc sniffed. "Why is there no table? I say, who broke it?"

For it was in pieces on the floor, two legs that remained sticking up.

"What?! That's impossible." The infirmary doctor exclaimed rising to his feet with a flourish. The stool rolled across the floor, Doc plopped down on it and wheeled over right next to Randy. "You have no right to access my private records. And absolutely no authority to read what you illegally hacked!"

"Illegal?" Chris sputtered. "Here now, we do not take part in illegal activities." He genuinely sounded offended.

"I don't have time for this." Blackburn stepped into the room, making Trent wonder how in the hell he'd been able to produce Doc. The room went silent. Men moved aside, made room for their Lt. Commander who quirked an eyebrow at Sonny. "Yet another fight Quinn?"

Trent shrugged, decided he didn't care how Doc had gotten there, hung between the shoulders of the seated duo who, with bent heads and pointing fingers, huddled over the computer balanced on Randy's knees. He and Doc agreed that though there was no clear diagnosis, neither wanted what was written to remain, and instructed Randy to wipe what he'd found, clean.

"You're sure?" Jason asked, his question directed to Doc. "He doesn't have asthma?"

Without doubt or hesitation, Trent promptly responded, "Yes."

"You don't have the knowledge to know that." The infirmary doctor objected.

Trent sighed. True, very true, but….. "I know that kid."

Jason shifted his weight. Say what? They were still getting to know their rookie …or did that not apply to them all on Bravo? He cast an eye at Jeff, then Randy….hmmmm.

"Doc?" Eric prompted, waited while Bravo's Doc pointed and nodded as Randy tapped. "Doc?"

"Huh? What? Oh, yes. I trust Trent, Eric." Doc replied without looking up, which of course meant, he was distracted, focused on what he had Randy doing and was absently agreeing. "Here, there, right there, that. Get rid of that."

Ray whistled. Eric? Since when did the little-known-only-with-Bravo-a-short-time good Doc know Lt. Commander Eric Blackburn well enough to call him by his first name? Wow. Just wow.

"Wipe it." Trent ordered. "It. All of it." He was a master at hiding his feelings, his insecurities, his doubts and he refused to allow any inner voice to sway his confidence. "He gave him a nebulizer treatment, don't want that known."

"Right, right." Doc nodded. "Just so. Ohhh...good, that's good. You're good."

Randy did so, but only after both Jason and Blackburn gave him permission. "Anything else Doc?"

"Where is Mr. Spenser?"

And everyone – everyone – looked up and down and all around; out the window, behind the curtain, but there was no blonde Bravo rookie to be found.

Trent sighed, of course not. He stepped towards the door. "Anyone allows asthma to be added to his medical record, he'll wake up the next day." He opened the door, stepped through, didn't look back. "The only person who is gonna add that, is Doc, and it ain't gonna happen." His anticipated continuation of his fight with Sonny would have to wait until after he'd gotten some sleep. "Cause he doesn't have it."

SLAM!

"Well then," Doc rubbed his hands together, stood up. Should he go with Trent, find young Spenser, or remain and have it out with the base doctor? Because most certainly, no one wanted the goofy man to create a new file.

"The medic has spoken." Eric said calmly. "Break it up, hit the sack. Catch some sleep, Mandy will have something for us soon."

"Sonny, clean this mess up." Jason ordered as he walked away, didn't see it, but knew Sonny scowled at him. "And wipe that look off your face."

Sonny wrinkled his nose, kicked at a plastic pitcher on the floor. He hadn't made this mess alone, why was he the only one who had to clean it up?

Jason paused in the door, still didn't turn around. Dammit! Why couldn't Sonny ever remember his boss had Jaime Sommer's ear and Steve Austin's eye!

"Then go wash dishes until you're sent for."

Sonny remained silent and motionless until Jason was out of sight and hearing, then cursed like the sailor he was. He'd be lucky his boss remembered to have him retrieved before dawn. Dusk? What time was it anyway?

"I say, let's go find where young Spenser is hiding." Doc was tired, wanted a hot shower and meal, but his patients came first and the goofy infirmary doctor could wait. "Lead the way...well, someone go first."

The infirmary doctor blinked and the large men were gone. Just like that, just...gone. They'd come crashing in like a herd of elephants, disappeared like a cat that appears out of nowhere. And they'd taken his laptop with them.

Except one.

"So, then." Sonny drawled. "You got anything to drink in here?"

()()()

Clay was tired. So tired. Tired of….well, everything. His teammates, Sonny, feeling tired, being tired, being fussed over, being hounded by Mandy Ellis. He was …tired.

Just. Tired.

The last coherent memory he had was being told he could leave command by Blackburn and wanting a nap…..a nap he still very much wanted.

But after alerting Jason to Trent's path of war, he'd spotted Dutch. Which meant Doc was back on base and Doc was going to want to get his hands on him, would insist on yet another very thorough exam. And then tests. And x-ray's or cat scans or mri's or sonograms or hell, maybe all of them. He didn't know, didn't want to know, didn't care.

So, he'd toddled off to see how Dutch and the guys who'd been stricken ill at the campsite were faring, thinking in his muffled, tired mind, if he hid, he wouldn't be found.

Except...he couldn't hide forever.

He trudged, head down, shoulders slumped towards his quarters. His head was doing its best to kill him or at least, drive him to his knees, leave him a huddled heap in the sand in the middle of the base for anyone to find and make fun of….thumpthud, thumpthud. Every fall of a foot sent a stabbing pain against his right temple...thumpthud, thumpthud.

Stress? Anxiety? Medical issue? Fear?

He swallowed, blew out a shaky breath. God, now he felt like crying! What the hell was the matter with him? Christ!

"Hey you." Jeff fell into step beside him. "Where you been?"

"Avoiding everyone…..Sonny, mostly."

"He's busy, uh, cleaning." Jeff smirked. "Sentenced to dish duty. Dish pan hands!"

Clay hadn't asked, didn't care, wondered why Jeff felt he'd want to know. Didn't understand anyway.

"You looked wiped dude." Jeff lacked the desire to 'know all' that drove Trent, but he was still a field medic. "You can't keep this up."

"Was doin' fine." He muttered, pressed a palm against his right temple, tried and failed to hide a wince. Least his hands didn't burn and sting so much anymore. When had that stopped? He couldn't remember.

"Sure, sure you were." Jeff teased. "Headache?"

"Bit."

"You take anything?"

"Found some Tylenol." Which in his opinion, was useless unless you were running a fever.

"You eat anything lately?"

"Uh, yeah." He stumbled, let Jeff halt his progress. "Eggs, I think."

"Let's get you a popsicle." Jeff said. "Maybe a banana or something."

"You think you could find me some gel-caps?"

"Advil? Sure, they your poison of choice?"

"Uh-huh?" popsicle? The hell?!

"….crash with us, you want." Jeff was saying. "…..came back with Doc are in the infirmary, so pretty quiet in our barracks." They'd all been together with Bravo, but one time Dutch had returned from command with the announcement they were moving to different barracks. "…..worry, they aren't contagious."

"What?" Clay murmured. Wait, he'd just been with Dutch and Support...why would he go back? He had no idea what Jeff meant, just turned and blindly followed him. His throat didn't hurt exactly, and his chest was no longer tight, but he still didn't feel just right.

How many days ago had that been anyway? He'd felt fine, if tired, managed a daily routine, with Sonny keeping his distance, until Bravo had returned.

"…..get to know Trent, his grama's old wives tales: Don't go outside with a wet head; you have a cold, cover your chest; always sleep with a window open; don't wear socks to bed if you have a fever….this way." Jeff reached out to steer Clay when he failed to turn. "Don't even ask….we all know better than to disagree with Grandma, God rest her blessed soul."

"What?"

"Never mind, just come on." Everyone was searching for the kid and Jeff, who'd finally found him, didn't quite have the heart to turn him in. Eh, Trent needed time to cool off anyway.

Clay slowed to a stop, blinked wearily at the door, peered at people coming and going. Why was he here? Where was here? The mess tent. Cafeteria. Whatever. Great.

Wait, what had Jeff said? Sonny was doing dishes? He didn't want to see Sonny! Even if it was hilarious the pain-in-the-ass Texas was washing dishes!

"Yeah." Jeff laughed. Clay frowned. Huh, had he said that out loud? Must have. "Part of his punishment for leaving you alone with the base doc. Jason is not happy."

"I don't wanna see him." Clay protested, rubbing his forehead. "Sonny, I mean. Not Jason." Part of his punishment? There was more?

"You don't hafta. Let's get you a popsicle, a bite to eat, then Doc wants you."

"Advil." Clay reminded him.

"Right. Yes."

"Why do I want a popsicle?"

"Hold something cold in your mouth to help your headache." Jeff explained simply, like it made sense.

It didn't.

"What flavor do you like?"

"Purple."

Purple was not a flavor, but Jeff let it go, assumed he meant grape. "Okay, here sit down, eat this banana."

Clay sat. He didn't know why, he just obeyed. And he stayed, and he ate the banana while Jeff went off to find him a purple popsicle. He resisted the urge to lay his head flat on the table. Left cheek, right cheek, didn't matter.

"Blonde-o-matic!" Sonny bear hugged him from behind, squeezed him with arms of steel, ruffled his hair. "Dunno what Trent's all cryin' about. You're hale and hearty." He leaned close, rested his chin on Clay's shoulder, blew kisses against his neck. "Look at you."

Clay scowled, attempted to shrug away. Where the hell was Jeff? How long did it take to find a fucking popsicle?

"Go away."

"That any way to greet me?"

"What do you want?" The tempo in his head kicked up a notch.

"Hey now, no need to be like that."

"You're supposed to be doing dishes."

Sonny snorted, hugged tighter. "I'll be doing dishes 'til I fall over, 'cause of you. Your fault you know."

"Do the crime, pay with time." He was too tired to tease, too exhausted to hold his own in a battle of wits with Sonny. "Lemme go." His left temple felt left out, caught the beat...thumpthud, thumpthud, thumpthud.

Sonny hugged tighter, snuggled close.

Clay felt his chest tighten, his throat thicken. His fingers pried at Sonny's arms but were ineffective in getting the Texan to release his hold.

He tried to pant, managed to wheeze, fought panic. He wanted to stand but was unable to free himself from Sonny, began to gasp.

"…Je….je..ff…..?" and he went limp.

Sonny didn't know if he was pissed off, scared or annoyed. The kid was obviously in distress and it was Jeff who he called for, not Sonny. And that didn't sit well with burly Bravo Three.

"Jeff? Jeff?! You want Jeff?!"

Having invaded the kitchen, Jeff had taken a moment to call Jason while he ransacked the freezer for popsicles, then a cupboard for pain relievers. Jason had contacted Trent, who, after a conference with Doc, had told Jason to tell Jeff to bring Clay over to Doc's quarters after he'd fed him.

Armed with orders, meds and food, he made his way back to where he'd left Clay.

"Okay, can you believe not a popsicle to be found? But had freezer-pops. Some people call them flavor ice and I found a pur..." Jeff stopped, stood dumbstruck, purple push-up in one hand, bottle of Advil liquid gel-caps in the other. "The fuck you do, Quinn?"