The Day After
The next morning, Trent let Brock sleep in until he woke on his own. The kid was completely spent from the stress and lack of good sleep since returning from Syria. Brock was an emotional wreck worrying about Katie and wondering if she was actually leaving him. He felt guilty as hell for sneaking around to get the off base sleeping pills which he knew were absolutely forbidden by both Jason and Trent. He was embarrassed to face his very grown up big brothers knowing they had surely heard him hollering like a naughty kid while his much-loved foster dad gave him the belt whuppin' they all knew he most certainly deserved for his reckless, self-absorbed, dangerous behavior.
When he finally woke, it was almost noon and he had slept like a rock for over twelve hours. It was the first time in over two weeks he had slept through the night without the help of his sleeping pills which Jason and washed down the sink the night before. Brock could hear Trent puttering around in his kitchen, and he felt guilty knowing his most loved big brother must have used leave time to stay home with him so that he would not wake up alone in an empty house.
Knowing he could not hide all day in Trent's spare room, and needing something to help take the edge off his pounding headache, Brock forced himself out of bed and headed quietly down to the bathroom to take a shower before facing a surely pissed off Uncle Trent. As disappointed in his reckless behavior as the kid knew the older man would be, Brock also knew that he could count on his loyal protector and best caregiver to get him fixed up and feeling better, even if they both knew that he surely deserved the hangover he was currently feeling.
"Hey Trent," Brock said quietly, standing nervously in the doorway to the kitchen where his big brother was currently standing at the stove making grilled cheese. The smell and sight of the sandwiches cooking on the top of the stove caused the kid's completely empty stomach to growl.
Preparing lunch for Brock when he heard him trying to sneak off to the bathroom without being seen, Trent turned to face his pitiful looking boy and nodded toward the table indicating he should take a seat.
"Sit down," Trent said, calmly. The kid was looking like he might start crying again, and it was breaking his adopted mama bear's heart.
Brock hesitated, looking up to make eye contact with the older man he loved and depended on for care and support. Despite the silent lecture he had given himself while putting on clean sweats and one of Trent's old t-shirts he found in the bedroom, Brock was having a hard time not tearing up yet again. Everything felt like such a huge, overwhelming mess, and he wanted so much for Trent to just make him okay, like he was before the sand blew up out of nowhere, engulfing him and Clay in the Syrian desert.
Knowing exactly what his crumbling boy needed, Trent silently opened his arms, inviting in his kid who went to him relieved with no hesitation. Wrapping his arms around the trembling kid who was clearly fighting hard not to lose it again, Trent held him tight, rubbing his back with one hand while resting the other gently on the back of Brock's head, the kid's face hiding in his strong shoulder.
"I'm sorry, Trent," he said miserably, losing his battle against crying like a little kid in his stern but gentle big brother's arms.
"I know you're sorry," Trent said, calm and soothing. "And I'm sorry I didn't see how lost I know you must be feeling to do something so desperate. But, honey, you can always come to me for anything without being afraid. You're my kid, and I couldn't love you more if you were my son."
"I love you too, Trent," Brock cried, rambling. "I don't know why I didn't come to you. I know I should have told you I wasn't sleeping, but I was scared. It was like my heart was pounding all the time, and my stomach was in knots. And I wanted you or Jason to fix everything, but I couldn't figure out what to do. I know it sounds crazy, but it was like everything was foggy and mixed up. And Katie was looking at me like she was scared of me. And I thought maybe if I could just sleep for a little while I could think and figure out what to do. I'm sorry."
"Shh," Trent soothed the shaking boy in his arms. "It's okay, sweetheart. I promise. I understand what you're saying, and I know what we need to do. Right now, all you need is to slow down, take some deep breaths, and relax. Uncle Trent is here, I have you covered, and you kiddo are going to give your busy brain a rest. I'm going to tell you exactly what to do, and you are going to listen and mind me like the good boy we all know you are. Deal?"
"Yes, sir," Brock said, melting into the older SEAL's chest, letting Trent take his weight and hold him up. "I just need you to tell me what to do, Trent. I don't know what I'm supposed to do."
"I know you don't, honey," Trent said calmly, continuing to rub his back.
"I'm cold, Trent," Brock said softly, trying to regulate his breathing like he'd been taught now that he had cried himself out again. He pulled in his arms, burrowing into the bigger man's chest seeking warmth.
Pulling him in and holding him tighter in his arms, Trent kissed the top of his wet head.
"Well, tough guy," he said gently. "Your hair is wet, you're running around barefoot. You have yourself worked up into a frazzle, and if I know my stuff, which I think we both know I do, I believe you have cooked up a fairly impressive fever. You have officially hit the wall. So, I'm not surprised that you are feeling chilled."
Trent slowly peeled the shivering kid off his chest making sure that his legs were steady and he wasn't about to hit the floor. Pointing to the chair where he intended him to sit, his worn out kid silently followed his directions, sinking slowly into the hard, wooden chair, mindful of his still sore backside.
"Not ready for flopping down yet?" Trent said with zero emotion, shaking his head as he went and returned from his bedroom with a worn out old hoodie and a towel which he used to dry his kid's wet head.
Taking the offered sweatshirt and pulling it over his head, Brock glared up at the older man who clearly was feeling no sympathy for his aching ass.
"It's not funny, Trent," he pouted. "I got my butt torn up while I howled like a little kid. It was awful. And so embarrassing."
Trent scoffed, putting the grilled cheese and a bottle of water down in front of him.
"I hope you don't think you are going to make me feel sorry for you with the puppy eyes," Trent said sternly. "You should be embarrassed that the boss needed to spank your reckless, dishonest, sneaky tail like an out of control teenager. He already has one unruly brat giving him gray hair. Do you really think he should have to deal with a twenty-four-year-old who needs to be disciplined like a kid?"
"No, sir," Brock quietly, looking down.
"Well, I'm glad you agree," Trent said, sitting down with his own sandwich across from his boy. "Eat your lunch. You need something in your empty belly."
The longtime operator and his kid ate quietly for a few minutes before Trent spoke again.
"Brock," he said calmly. "Do you understand why Jason punished you?"
"Because I royally fucked up. And I acted like a stupid kid," Brock said, putting his face in his hands. "I know I deserved to get my ass kicked. If I did that back at home, my dad would have beat the hell out of me and driven me straight to rehab."
"You definitely fucked up. And what you did yesterday was dangerous," Trent agreed. "But Brock, do you understand that Jason was not punishing you for being scared or needing help or not being able to handle everything that happened on your own?"
When Brock didn't respond right away, Trent continued, reaching out to squeeze the kid's forearm.
"Jason loves you like his own kid. We all love you, and we will do anything to help you and take care of you. No one is mad at you for falling apart or even for getting drunk and passing out on your couch. We've all been there. Myself more than anyone. So we completely understand that," Trent assured him.
Brock nodded, looking up at his trusted caregiver.
"After I pulled myself together last night," Brock grinned sheepishly, not embarrassed with Trent, but not looking forward to facing his big brothers who he knew had heard the show. "Jason sat with me until I calmed down. He said just what you did. That I never need to be afraid to come to you guys, and that you understand and love me. The boss said I got my butt beat for disrespecting him and the team by lying and going behind your back to get sleeping meds. And for being reckless and acting like an irresponsible kid by taking the pills and then drinking myself blind. Jason said I could have killed myself. And it would have broken the team if you walked in and found me dead. I understand why he punished me,"
Trent squeezed his boy's arm gently to get his full attention.
"Sweetheart," he said gently. "I'm going to ask you something, and I want you to promise that you will tell me the truth. You don't need to be afraid to be honest with me. Not ever. I'm not going to let anything bad happen to you."
Brock looked up at him with complete trust. "Okay, Trent," he whispered. "I promise."
"Did you mix those pills and the alcohol on purpose because you were trying to hurt yourself?" Trent asked. His heart was pounding in his chest, but he was holding it together and remaining completely calm as Bravo Four always did with his boys.
Brock was quiet. He looked down at the table before answering, reaching out to grab hold of Trent's shirt.
"I'm not really sure, Trent," he said softly. "I definitely wasn't thinking that I was trying to kill myself. But, I knew it was dangerous to take the pills after I was drinking. I was drinking first, and then Katie showed up with her sister because she called and I wouldn't answer the phone which was stupid and immature."
"Okay," Trent said, allowing the kid to hold his sleeve while he rubbed his arm gently. "So Katie came to check on you with her sister. Naima talked to Katie. She told Ray that Katie has been staying at her sister's apartment. How long have you been at the house alone?"
"I'm not sure exactly," Brock admitted. "It's all kind of a blur. The pills make me foggy. I think she's been there a week. We had a fight about the yard and me drinking and watching TV all night. She said I had to get my shit together and she loves me, but she's not living like this."
"Okay," Trent repeated gently. "You haven't seemed foggy or out of it at work. Just worn out. Have you taken any kind of medication or anything over the counter or been drinking at all on duty? I need you to be honest with me, honey."
"I haven't ever taken the pills on duty," Brock said hesitantly. "They knock me right out. I only take them at night when I can't sleep. And I never came drunk to work or ever drank any kind of alcohol on base. I would never do that. I promise."
"But you took something," Trent said, gentle but firm. "I know when my kids are holding out on me. You need to tell me the truth right now, son. What else have you been taking?"
"It's not a prescription or anything illegal, Trent," Brock said quickly. "In the morning, after I've had the pills to sleep, it's hard for me to get alert. Even with the pills, sometimes I can't sleep soundly. I wake up and I'm confused. Or sometimes I have bad dreams and I can't tell if it's real or I'm sleeping. And in the morning, I'm too tired to drive or do drills at work."
"What are you taking, Brock?" Trent asked firmly.
"In my truck and in my cage, I have a bunch of 5 Hour Energy Shots I bought at the gas station," Brock admitted. "It keeps me awake. And then on the way to work the girl at Starbucks gives me a couple of the straight espresso shots. It's just caffeine, I swear Trent. And sometimes I drink a couple Mountain Dews in the afternoon or on my way back home after work."
Trent took a breath and silently talked himself down. He reminded himself that Brock is a kid, and kids do stupid shit all the time. He told himself he had promised that it was okay and that Brock never had to be afraid to tell him the truth. His kid had told him the truth as promised, and Trent was not going to lose it on him now and scare the crap out of him.
"I can tell you're mad at me, Trent," Brock said, miserably. "But I didn't think it was a huge deal. I knew the pills were bad. And Jason was right that I lied and snuck around behind your back because I knew if I told you I wasn't sleeping you would be worried and maybe put me on restricted duty. But the other stuff is just caffeine. We load up on the coffee all the time to keep going. I didn't think that was bad."
"Okay," Trent said, standing and motioning the kid to follow and sit with him on the couch. "Let's take a breath and talk about this calmly. I'm not mad at you, but I am worried about you. But I always worry and fuss about you and the runt, so that's nothing new."
Brock smiled at his grumpy old uncle who he adored, moving to nestle into the older SEAL's side when he lifted his strong arm offering comfort and protection. Curling up and sliding down, he rested his aching head on a pillow in Uncle Trent's lap.
As expected, Trent wrapped one arm around his boy's middle, sliding his calloused hand up under his shirt to rub his nervous belly, while resting his free hand on Brock's throbbing head. The medic gently rubbed his thumb back and forth across his kid's warm forehead which he knew from experience always calmed both of his boys right down.
"After we've talked calmly about why I am most definitely not onboard with the caffeine binging, which you already know or you wouldn't be hiding your stash of little red bottles from me," Trent said lightly, "I don't want to add insult to injury, but you kiddo have a shot of fever reducer coming your way and another to settle your queasy belly. And before you argue your case for going with the Tylenol tablets, that's not on the menu because your stomach is no doubt grumbling from yesterday's keg party and forced vomiting. You definitely don't need to add the pukes and or shits to your day."
"Please don't give me shots, Trent," Brock whined. "I hate shots. And my butt is already not having a good day. Can't I just put a cold washcloth on my head or something."
"I'm sorry," Trent laughed. "I blanked out for a second there and thought I was talking to Clay. I'm not even going to dignify that last suggestion with a response. And I am well aware your sorry little tail is 'not having a good day'. You have my sincere condolences. But I think we have already established that you brought that situation on yourself."
Brock sighed, knowing he was defeated. "Fine," he said miserably. "I'll take the shots without fussing."
"Where are you stashing the caffeine shots?" Trent asked calmly.
"In my cage," the kid said softly. "In my gym bag. And in the glove compartment of the truck."
"Allright," Trent said, shaking his head. "I'll have Sonny clean them out. You kiddo, are officially in detox. The pills are gone, the liquor cabinet is off limits to anyone under thirty, and as soon as I talk to Sonny, the little red bottles are gone as well. Understood?"
"Yes, sir," Brock said, looking up at his trusted caregiver. "But Trent, I don't think I can sleep without the pills. I've tried. I really have, but at night I can't make myself settle. And even if I am able to fall asleep, I'm waking up every few hours with nightmares. And sometimes I don't know where I am. It's bad Trent."
"I know it feels like everything is overwhelming and out of control, baby," Trent soothed, stroking his hair. "But Brock, we are all here for you. I'm here for you, and you are not leaving my side until you are sorted and ready to be on your own. And I don't care how long it takes. As far as I'm concerned, you can stay through Christmas. Santa can drop your toys right here at old Uncle Trent's house."
Brock smiled, curling up and wrapping his arm around Trent's leg seeking warmth and safety.
"Thanks for keeping me, and taking care of me," Brock said, finally relaxing for the first time since returning home from Syria. "I love you guys so much. And I'm sorry for being such a pain in the ass. I'll do whatever you say, Trent. I promise.
"I'm clearly no expert in making marriage work," Trent said, continuing to gently rub his boy's head. "But you are going to need to talk things out with Katie. I know you said that she's been staying with her sister, and she told you that she wasn't sure she could handle this life, but Brock, now is not the time to make any hasty decisions about the future of your marriage."
"What should I say to her, Trent?" Brock asked. "I can't think clearly about Katie and I now. She wants me to be like I was before Syria. And I want that too, but I don't know how to make everything okay again. I love Katie, but I feel like maybe Sonny was right when he said we should have stayed single."
"Okay, Brock," Trent said calmly. "First of all, I know I am no expert in the romance department. But the last person you need to be taking marriage advice from is Sonny. So let's just forget whatever crazy love advice he decided to share with you. What did Katie say before she went to stay with her sister?"
"She said that she loved me, and she knows I love her," Brock said quietly, still holding the older man's leg to help settle himself. "Katie said that she wants our marriage to work, but she thinks maybe her parents were right that we were too young, and it was a mistake to jump into marriage right after she graduated from college and I became Bravo. She said that I need to get my shit together, and she needs time to think about what she wants and if she is ready to deal with being married to a tier one operator for the next twenty years. And she said that I need to think seriously about what I want for myself."
"Okay," Trent said, slowly. "Do you feel like maybe you and Katie rushed into marriage?"
"Maybe, Trent," Brock said, his voice shaky. "But I really don't know what I think right now. Before Syria, I felt like things were going fine. We took Derrick and Catherine's advice to not worry so much about what other people said our marriage should look like, and do what made us happy. And I think Katie and I were good. But now, I don't know. We were both a hot mess being alone together in the house since we got back from Syria. Katie was trying to help me, but neither of us knew what to do. And I only felt safe when I was with you or Jason or one of the other guys."
"And Trent," Brock went on talking quickly. "My head is killing me. I can't think straight. I'm afraid to sleep alone in our house. I'm so tired all the time. I don't feel good. I don't know what to do. I don't want to lose Katie, but I don't want her to be unhappy with me. I just don't know what I should be doing."
"Okay, honey," Trent soothed, moving his hand from his belly to rub the kid's back. "Naima is going to reach out to Katie. And she has Catherine and Melinda as well who understand what she's going through more than we do. And she has a big family who love and support her. And son, I know you don't feel like part of her family, but Jason talked honestly with Katie's parents when we first got home from Syria, and he says they care about you, and they are worried about you as well as Katie."
Trent was quiet for a few minutes to give his kid some time to catch up, and let all that sink in.
"Right now," Trent continued. "We are going to get you medicated and catching up on some much needed rest. You are staying here with me, and I promise that I am not going to leave you on your own until we are both confident you are ready. The guys got your house back in tip top condition, so Katie can decide if she needs to be with her sister now, or if she wants to go back to the house. And I will reach out and make sure she understands that she is welcome here anytime the two of you decide you want to hang out and talk."
"Okay, Trent," Brock said softly. "Can I see Clay today? Last night you said he was staying with Josh, but I could see him today. I know in my head that he's okay. But, I don't think I can relax until I can see him for myself."
"Okay kiddo," Trent said, gentle and firm. "Let's make a deal. I'm going to give you the shots I already know you don't want, but we both know you definitely need to bring down your fever, take the edge off your headache and settle your belly so you can get some quality rest. Then you are going to head straight back to Uncle Trent's cool, dark spare room to sack out for the rest of the afternoon. Later tonight, after dinner, we are having a Bravo team meeting to come up with a plan for getting you settled and sorted."
"What about Clay?" Brock asked anxiously. "Is Jason letting him come to the meeting?"
"Nope," Trent said. "No runt's allowed. We need to talk honestly and work out a plan. And we all know that Clay doesn't cope well when things are up in the air. He needs to have the plan settled and laid out before him. He's struggling too, and he's still spending most nights in Jason's room. But he's seeing Dr. Jeff regularly, and he's going to be fine."
"Is he staying with Josh?" Brock asked. "Because you know when he hears Bravo is having a meeting without him, he's going to panic and possibly throw a fit."
"And if he decides to act up like a brat," Trent said calmly, "The adults will deal with him. But that is not something you need to be concerned about right now. I promised you could see him today. And later tonight, after the meeting, I will take you to Jason's place for a visitation with your little brother."
"Okay, Trent," Brock whispered quietly.
"You are fading fast on me down there, tough guy," Trent smiled gently. "Are we on the same page?"
"Yes, sir," Brock said. "I understand. Thanks for keeping me here with you. I always can count on that I'll be okay when I'm with you. And I love you. I love all you guys so much."
"And we love you right back," Trent promised. "So let's get you some medicine and a big glass of juice before we get you tucked in for a nice long nap."
An hour later, Trent had his boy medicated and sleeping soundly in his quiet back room.
Bravo's super medic had showered and was straightening up his house in preparation for the upcoming team meeting. It had been another long day, and Trent knew that there would be plenty more long, tiring days ahead. But Bravo Four also knew that it was once again 'all hands on deck'. His boys were going through a rough and frightening time in their young lives, but Trent was confident that with support from their ever expanding extended family, the senior members of Bravo would most definitely sort, scold and spoil their youngest back to their healthy, sweet, smart, trouble magnet selves.