Bravo boarded their C-17 and started heading to their seats. Once they were at altitude, they moved about stringing up their hammocks. Blackburn had debriefed them already at the tactical base they had been using in Maputo, Mozambique. The men were worn, the mission being far more intensive than originally thought.

Their HVT had been a human trafficker, Kgosi Botha, based out of Southeastern Africa. Mandy had not been aware initially if the trafficker was based out of South Africa or Eswatini. Only three days in recon had determined that their HVT was holed up in Tonga, just past the border into South Africa.

When the team infiltrated the compound, they not only were able to capture Kgosi Botha and five of his men, but they were also able to rescue thirteen caged girls between the ages of four and ten. The girls were originally from Burundi and Rwanda, taken from the streets. The team was able to connect them with aid organizations in their home countries and hopefully the girls would be safe.

Full Metal stretched out in his hammock, wanting to get some rest but unable to shut his eyes without being reminded of the mission. He always struggled with sleep and often had nightmares, but dreaming of young girls was not something he wanted to welcome. He reached for his flask and drank, glad he always brought some whiskey along. The liquor burnt a bit going down, but it was followed by the slightest ease, enough that he could relax enough to focus on a book. If he couldn't sleep, he would read. Or draw.

The guys couldn't get over the fact he'd been in art school. When he couldn't sleep another trick he'd learned was to draw out scenes that were replaying in his mind. Generally, this helped his mind further process what had happened… He was just too exhausted to put the energy into a drawing, and he hated drawing halfass.

Meanwhile on the other side of the plane, Trent was having similar issues, not wanting to sleep for fear of being woken with terrible dreams. He looked over at Metal and raised his own drink, noting that he was most likely having whiskey – at least that's what Metal usually packed in his flask. The boys usually saved their drinking post-mission for successful missions, but sometimes you just needed a drink.

Two Days Later

Back at VA Beach, Metal and the boys were unsurprisingly at the Bulkhead for the second night in a row. They had just gotten home from a tough mission and blowing off steam was in order. The boys tucked themselves away near the darts, ordering several drinks of choice and settling in for a night of fun, hoping to erase the images of the last week out of their minds.

Unfortunately, Full Metal struggled to really engage with the boys, instead cautiously surveying the bar, making note of who was where and who could be a threat. Metal saw her walk into the bar and take a seat at a table in the corner. He recognized her, what is her name… Evelyn? He had seen her a few times at the Bulkhead, but she was always with her friends.

Yesterday Sonny had absconded him as his wingman to meet her friend, Jayme. Jayme had agreed to dance with Sonny, and never made it back to the table… well from what Metal saw. He had sat awkwardly with Evelyn before excusing himself back to Jase and Trent. Metal made it very clear after debriefing today that under no circumstances was he ever going to be a wingman again; he did not particularly enjoy awkward conversations with the opposite sex.

Metal drifted back to the present as he saw a sailor approach Evelyn. They seemed to know each other, or at least had been expecting each other. He turned back to his whiskey and took a sip. He glanced back at the boys who were playing darts.

"Now Sunshine, you don't wanna place bets against Sonny Quinn. I'm the king of darts, the master of the board."

Clay rolled his eyes and motioned to Sonny. "Can you believe this guy, Metal?"

Metal scoffed and turned back to the girl he had been observing. She reminded him of someone, he just couldn't place who… until it hit him. Why hadn't he figured it out sooner? She reminded him of Nicole.

Metal watched the sailor leave the table to get himself and Evelyn a drink. After he picked up the two glasses, her date looked back at Evelyn before stopping at the table beside the bar, not in Evelyn's line of sight. The hairs on the back of Metal's neck stood up as he watched the man fish something out of his pocket and drop it into one of the drinks, swishing it around. Metal was immediately up and out of his chair, reaching Evelyn's side the same time as her date handed her her drink.

"Full Metal!" Evelyn exclaimed. "What are you…"

"I think you mixed up the ladies drink," he stated to the sailor.

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me." Metal took the drink from a bewildered Evelyn's hand and slammed it down on the table in front of the asshat in front of him. Before the sailor could think of picking back up his own drink Metal shoved it into Evelyn's hand.

"What is going on?!" Evelyn furrowed her brow, looking between Jack, her date, and Metal.

"Back off man," Jack told Metal, trying to appear in control. "We are just having a drink."

Metal stepped even closer, causing Jason and Trent to suddenly appear, putting their hands on his shoulders to hold him back. Metal growled and shook off his teammates. "You spiked her drink."

Evelyn gaped at Metal and turned to Jack.

"I did not!"

"Then bottoms up!" Metal thrust Evelyn's drink into Jack's hand and raised it to his lips.

Jack quickly jerked his face away, causing Metal to shout angrily at the man.

"Why you…!"

Before he could take a swing Trent grabbed his arm, while Jase stepped in front of him, turning to the sailor.

"Sailor, I'd say you have about two seconds to get out of this bar before Full Metal here shows you firsthand where his nickname came from."

Jack's eyes darted nervously between Jason and Metal before he shook his head at Evelyn, "I don't need this shit," and bolted out the door.

"And don't come back!" Sonny punctuated the air as the door slammed behind him.

At this point several people were gawking at Evelyn and the guys, but with a quick glare from Metal they suddenly all had better things to be interested in.

The guys turned back to the table to see Evelyn hastily packing up her bag and backing away from the table.

"Evelyn, wait!" Metal grabbed her arm, causing her to recoil. Metal dropped her arm like hot lead and held his hands up, putting some breathing room between them. "Are you okay?"

Evelyn just stared at her feet, mumbling quietly about needing to leave.

"Hey, you're okay," Jason said, turning to join the pairs' conversation.

"I can't believe he…" She shook her head. "How did you know?" Evelyn glanced up at Metal.

"Saw him."

"Well, thanks! You sure saved my evening." Evelyn sighed, staring at her feet again. "I'll see you around, I guess."

Evelyn quickly made her exit, not wanting to see the pity in the men's eyes. How stupid can I be? she thought. She was so caught up in her head berating herself she hadn't heard Metal follow her until she was outside the bar and turned to go to her car.

"Ahhh!" screeched Evelyn in surprise, whirling around to find Metal standing two feet behind her.

"Easy!" Metal raised his hands up. "I just wanted to make sure you got to your car safely and that you're actually ok."

"I'm fine," Evelyn replied, unconvincingly.

Full Metal crossed his arms, scowling at her.

"Look, I'm just going to go home. Really. I'm fine. I appreciate you having my back and being so observant"— I knew I shouldn't have tried anything —Evelyn seemed to be at war within herself. "Anyways. Thanks."

Before Metal could reply she quickly did an about-face and hurried to her little car, getting in, and driving off. Metal heard footsteps approach and saw Trent. Metal rubbed his face with his palm and turned to his brother in arms. Trent quirked an eyebrow at him as if to ask what gives, and Metal just huffed, knocking past him on the way back into the bar.

"Looks a bit like Nicole, hey?"

Trent's question stopped Metal in his tracks. He whirled around and glared at his friend. "Watch it."

Trent and Metal stared at each other for a good ten seconds before Trent threw his arms up in the air and walked past his friend into the bar, leaving Metal just outside the door.

Metal stared after Trent before deciding he would call it a night. He went in and found the boys, asking if anyone wanted a ride home, hoping Trent would stay back, as Metal and Jase were the DD's that night.

Unfortunately for Metal, Trent decided he'd had enough too and took Metal's offer up for a ride home. Metal stared angrily at his friend, hoping to make him so uncomfortable he'd back out, but no such luck.

Metal made his way to his truck, unlocking the doors so Trent could get in as well. Metal sank into the black leather, leaning his head back against the headrest and crossing his arms. Trent was his best friend. They'd been friends for over 10 years and had met when Trent was a rookie on Bravo; Alpha and Bravo were often paired up on missions when two teams were needed.

Flashback

Trent had been with the SEALS for three years before his arm injury. It was during his time rehabbing that he ended up really getting to know Metal.

Bravo had been on deployment and Trent had just finished his PT for the day. He figured he'd check in on the team's cages when he walked past Alpha's cages, hearing a loud crash and howl behind the door. Trent quickly reacted, throwing the door open to see who was attacking Alpha's room, and came face to face with a heaving Full Metal, his cage completely torn apart. Trent blinked slowly, taking in his fellow SEAL and the state of the surroundings.

Metal growled and turned away, stalking over to sit down on his bench.

Trent quietly closed the door and made his way to his friend, pausing about ten feet away. "Love what you did to the place," he offered up, trying to lighten the mood, while giving Metal the chance to rein himself in.

Metal looked up at Trent, his eyes alight with… well, too much really. Metal huffed and leaned back.

"Metal…" Trent broke Metal out of his memory.

"Not now," Metal chirped back. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Trent eyeing him before he nodded. Metal started up the half ton and left the lot.

Metal pulled into Trent's driveway and shut off the GMC.

Trent eyed Metal, noticing the way he was gripping the steering wheel, clearly bothered. "Want to come in for a drink?"

Metal nodded almost indiscernibly and got out of the truck, following Trent up the stairs.

As Trent went to the kitchen to grab some glasses for the liquor, Metal grabbed some whiskey from the cabinet and made his way to the back porch, sliding the screen door and making himself comfortable on one of the patio chairs.

Trent's one level home had a beautiful backyard with a patio, complete with comfy chairs and sofas, and a firepit out at the back of the yard. The yard was also extremely private, shielded by a wall of thick eight-foot-tall bushes.

The screen door opened again, and Trent slipped out of his house, turning on the string of lights draped around the canopy above them. He poured Metal his whiskey and set the bottle back down between them, choosing to sit in the chair across from him.

Metal lifted up the glass and took a sip, relishing the way the whiskey burned down his throat. "Thanks," he mumbled, putting back the rest of the drink and pouring himself more than the two fingers Trent had given him. To hell with pacing himself.

"What's up, Scott?"

Metal side-eyed Trent, taking in not only Trent's relaxed posture, but his worried expression as well. Trent only ever called him Scott when he was concerned; Metal only drank his whiskey straight when Trent needed to be concerned.

"The whiskey?" Metal asked, wondering what had given himself away. Full Metal was not called Full Metal for nothing. Most of the time his stoic expressions gave away very little to what was going on in his head, and Metal liked it that way.

Early on in his career, years before he'd met Trent, the boys had started calling him Full Metal because nothing seemed to penetrate him. His expressions were unreadable, his humor dark; no one ever knew if he was being serious or messing with them. Like the shovel and bag of lye he claimed to always have in his truck box.

Over the years the guys had tried to break into his truck bed, even getting bolt cutters for the lock to the large toolbox kept in the box, but whatever he used as a lock was foolproof. And the next day Metal had driven onto base with a shovel and that bag of lye, leaving it for all to see just outside the door of their training grounds.

Trent nodded. "Two days in a row. Want to tell me what's going on upstairs?"

Metal crossed his arms over his chest, shooting back the rest of his drink before pouring himself yet another.

Usually preferring beer, it had been a few years since he'd had whiskey – not since Travis' death. Travis had been Metal's Alpha 2 for five years before an IED had taken him out on their deployment to Kandahar. When back from the op Metal had proceeded to get blind drunk off straight whiskey for a week, only stopping when Trent finally broke into Metal's house and hauled his ass to the gym where he proceeded to beat the shit out of four Greenies in a sparring match and then throw up his stomach all over the matt.

Sparring was where Metal was able to release his anger. He loved dancing around, getting under his opponents' skin – but most of all he loved that he could take anyone down. No one had ever beaten Full Metal one-on-one; he was a beast.

"The girls."

Trent nodded at Metal's comment, picturing what he knew Metal was referring to.

Their South African mission had seen their HVT as a human trafficker. They were able to capture not only the leader and some of his men, but they rescued a number of his girls before they could be trafficked.

Unfortunately, the boys had also recovered the bodies of 17 girls, their bodies buried in shallow, half covered graves. It had been Full Metal, Trent and Clay who had stumbled upon the graves, though it was Metal who had taken it upon himself to recover the bodies along with the local army they were supporting; he didn't want his brothers to be even more exposed.

One of the eldest girls spoke French, and they were able to learn that most of the girls who died had been tortured and starved because they were too old. Kgosi did not want girls who had started their period – they needed to be young.

Trent shuddered at the memory. He too had been having a difficult time since the op, struggling to fall asleep at night. He looked up at Metal, reaching across the gap to rest his hand on Metal's knee. "It was a tough op."

Metal scoffed at Trent's comment but didn't pull his knee back from his friend's grasp. He closed his eyes and leaned his head back. "I cannot unsee their bodies. Every time I close my eyes… And the nightmares…"

The nightmares were the worst. Metal had always dealt with night terrors; heck, he rarely slept. It had been that way since his childhood. But there was a vast difference between nightmares involving adults and the terrors invading his sleep about the young girls.

"I can't sleep either," offered Trent.

"Well, aren't we a fucked up pair." Metal chuckled darkly and gulped the rest of his drink. He poured himself a fourth… no fifth… glass of whiskey and got up, walking into the dark backyard. He made his way to the back corner beside the large firepit, lowering himself onto the ground.

He looked up as Trent came to stand over him, and yanked on his hand, causing Trent to spill half his drink before laying down on the ground beside his friend. They were lucky it was so warm out, it being the middle of July.

"You can't keep knocking back the whiskey, brother."

"Damn straight I can," snorted Metal. Nobody was going to tell him what to do, including Trent, even if he knew that he should lay off the liquor. Metal liked his alcohol and was known to kick back with the boys, but ever since Travis' death he really had tried to avoid the whiskey in particular as it seemed to be his kryptonite.

Trent sighed. What was there to tell Metal? See a shrink? Yah, that would go over well. From experience he knew that what Metal needed was time. Time to process and time to distract himself. Without liquor.

There were always ops that got under their skin; thank goodness they were few and far between. They were trained to deal with death, torture, pain… but occasionally there were situations that no amount of training would fully prepare them for.

They lay there for quite some time, sipping their drinks and listening to the night. Eventually Trent looked back over to his friend. "What can I do to help, Scott?" Trent also knew that what helped Metal almost more than anything else was talking about how he felt, allowing him to be a little less than 'Full Metal'.

Metal sighed. "I don't know, man." Metal sat up and crossed his arms over his chest, trying to keep everything inside. "I… You know talking is hard."

Trent could barely make out Metal's face in the dark, the light from the house barely reaching the back of the yard. He stood up and reached out a hand to his teammate. "Let's go inside."

Metal eyed Trent before accepting the hand up. The two slowly made their way inside.

The good thing about Trent living on his own was he had a couple spare beds just for situations like this. He grabbed a couple clean pillowcases out of the closet and made up a bed while Metal took a quick shower.

"Nights like this I could use a good fuck," muttered Metal, appearing in the doorway in just a pair of flannel pants that he kept at Trent's.

"Sorry, you're not my type," smirked Trent.

Metal rolled his eyed, nudging his friend out of the way so he could crash on the bed.

"Nightie Night."

Metal grunted and was out like a light. Whiskey always made him sleep, which was why it was so dangerous – Metal did not want to know what he could become if he always turned to drink to deal with things.

As Trent himself settled in for bed he realized he hadn't asked Metal about the girl from the bar. Who looked like Nicole. Hopefully Metal would open up more in the morning. Fat chance of that happening. Trent grabbed a book off his nightstand – The Innerworkings of the Circulatory System – and dove into where he left off last night. He finally fell asleep around 0500.

Nicole.

While neither Metal nor Trent had mentioned Nicole's name after what was deemed "the incident", neither man could stop thinking about her. And just how much little Evelyn looked like her.