McG's strong arms caught Jaz as she collapsed, but she immediately began to struggle against his grip. "Let me go," she gasped, her voice raw with pain and desperation.
Recognizing her urgency, McG helped her crawl into the bathroom. He barely had time to lift the toilet lid before Jaz's body was wracked with violent heaves. Her small frame shook as she emptied the meager contents of her stomach, tears streaming down her face from the exertion and pain.
McG dropped to his knees beside her, one hand supporting her waist to keep her from collapsing entirely, the other gently rubbing her back. "I've got you, Jazzy," he murmured, his voice a soothing anchor in the storm of her misery.
Amir appeared in the doorway, his face etched with concern. Without a word, he dampened a washcloth with cool water and handed it to McG. As Jaz's heaving subsided momentarily, McG tenderly wiped her face and placed the cloth on the back of her neck.
It was then that McG noticed something that made his blood run cold. As he moved Jaz's hair aside, he spotted a small, angry rash on the back of her neck. His medic instincts kicking into high gear, he began to examine her more closely, looking for any other signs of the toxin's effects.
"Amir," McG called, his voice tight with barely contained worry, "I need you to call Noah. Now."
As Amir stepped away to make the call, McG's phone buzzed. It was Preach.
"McG," Preach's voice came through, low and urgent. "I think we've got a situation here. I just saw something that confirms what Jaz has been saying all along. Mia... she can't be trusted."
McG's jaw clenched. "What did you see?"
Preach quickly filled him in on the suspicious text message he'd glimpsed on Mia's phone. "I'm sitting on it for now, waiting for further instructions. But McG, how's our girl?"
"Not good," McG replied, his voice heavy. "Listen, I need you to tell Noah something. We need a more thorough toxicology report on Hannah, and I want the lab to check for any abnormalities in her bloodwork. There might be a connection we're missing."
"Got it," Preach confirmed. "Hang in there. We're going to figure this out."
As the call ended, Jaz's body was seized by another round of violent heaving. McG resumed his position, supporting her as best he could.
When the latest bout finally subsided, McG gently pulled Jaz into his arms, rocking her back and forth. Her skin was clammy, her breathing labored.
"Why'd you try to make it to the bathroom, huh?" he asked softly, smoothing her hair away from her face. "You know I wouldn't have cared if you got sick in bed. I've seen you sick before, remember?"
Jaz managed a weak nod, her eyes fluttering open to meet his.
McG's lips quirked in a small smile. "Remember that time in Japan? You and Elijah insisted on eating that entire sushi boat?"
A ghost of a smile flickered across Jaz's pale face at the memory.
"Man, I was almost convinced you two were in a contest to see who could throw up the most or dehydrate the fastest," McG continued, his voice warm with fond recollection. "Elijah was so green, I thought he was going to start photosynthesizing."
Jaz let out a weak chuckle that quickly turned into a groan of pain. McG tightened his hold on her, his heart aching at her suffering.
"We're going to figure this out, Jazzy," he promised, his voice low and fierce. "You just hang in there, okay? We've got you. You're not alone in this fight."
As he held her, McG's mind raced. The rash, the violent sickness, the hallucinations earlier - it all pointed to something far more sinister than they'd initially thought. And with Preach's revelation about Mia, a horrible suspicion began to form in his mind.
Amir rejoined McG in the bathroom, his face etched with concern. Together, they carefully helped Jaz back to bed. Amir had already changed the bedsheets and found one of Jaz's softer long t-shirts.
but nothing was coming up anymore. Her body shook with the effort, face contorted in pain.
"McG, please," Amir pleaded, his voice tight with worry. "Give her something... anything to help."
McG nodded, pushing more Zofran into her IV. He then soaked a cloth with alcohol, hoping the smell might help with the nausea. "We can only wait this out now," he said softly. "We'll get her through it."
"We need to get her changed," McG said, his voice low and professional. "She can't stay in these sweaty clothes."
Amir nodded, holding up the clean t-shirt. "I found this. It's her favorite, I think."
McG managed a small smile. "Good call. Alright, Jazzy, we're gonna get you more comfortable, okay?"
Jaz, barely conscious, mumbled something incoherent.
"I'll hold her up, you change her shirt," McG instructed.
As they worked to change her clothes, Amir's hands trembled slightly. "I've never... we've never had to do this before," he admitted quietly.
McG's eyes softened with understanding. "I know, but it's okay. We're family, remember? And family takes care of each other."
"She'd do the same for us," Amir agreed, carefully pulling the clean shirt over Jaz's head.
"Probably with a lot more complaining and threats to our manhood," McG chuckled, trying to lighten the mood.
Despite her usually private nature, Jaz didn't put up much of a fight as they cleaned her up and changed her clothes. Years of living as the only woman on an all-male team had long since erased any lingering modesty. They'd changed quickly in front of each other and tended to injuries in the field too many times to count.
As they settled her back into bed, McG turned to Amir. "You should get some rest. I'll stay with her."
Amir hesitated. "Are you sure? I can help..."
"I've got this," McG assured him. "Besides, one of us needs to be alert when Top checks in."
Reluctantly, Amir nodded and left the room, casting one last worried glance at Jaz.
As McG held Jaz, gently rocking her, the vivid flashback of that fateful night Elijah was killed flooded his mind. They were clearing a building in Lebanon, going door to door. It was supposed to be an easy mission. Get in, get out. Nothing big.
Elijah's voice crackled over the comms, full of his usual humor. "Hey Jaz, what do you call a mountain of cats?"
A collective groan echoed through the team's earpieces.
"A Meowtain!" Elijah finished, chuckling at his own joke.
McG could practically hear Jaz rolling her eyes. Top let out an exasperated sigh, while Preach's deep laugh rumbled over the comms.
Then, in an instant, everything changed. A loud bang. A scream. A sickening thud.
Top's voice, usually so calm and controlled, was tinged with panic as he yelled for both Jaz and Elijah to report their status.
McG, being the closest, took off running towards their location. As he bounded up the staircases, his eyes alert for tangos, he saw it – blood dripping down the stairs from breath caught in his throat at the sight before him. Jaz lay motionless, halfway down the stairs, with Elijah's body draped over her.
"No, no, no," McG muttered, his training kicking in as he rushed to their side. One look at Elijah told him all he needed to know – their friend was gone. But Jaz... there was still hope for Jaz.
"Top," he called into his comms, his voice tight with urgency. "Elijah's down. Jaz is unconscious. I need a medevac, now!"
He carefully moved Elijah's body, his heart heavy with grief. Focus on the living, he reminded himself, turning his attention to Jaz.
"Come on, Jazzy," he murmured, checking her pulse. It was there, weak but steady. Her face was pale beneath the blood – Elijah's and her own.
McG's hands moved swiftly, assessing her injuries. A nasty gash on the back of her head, likely from the fall. Possible concussion. No apparent gunshot wounds, thank God.
"Jaz, can you hear me?" he called, gently tapping her cheek. No response. He quickly stabilized her neck unsure of how much damage had been done on her fall down the stairs.
He could hear Top and Preach's heavy footsteps approaching. "How is she?" Top's voice was strained, a mix of command and barely contained fear.
"Alive," McG reported, not taking his eyes off Jaz. "Head injury, possible spinal trauma. We need to get her out of here, now."
As they waited for the medevac, McG held pressure on Jaz's head wound, willing her to open her eyes. "Don't you dare leave us too," he whispered fiercely. "You hear me, Jaz? You stay with us."
30 stitches to the back of her skull. 15 to her arm where Elijah's weapon had stabbed her with his weight and a serious concussion. They had gotten lucky that night, if you could call losing a teammate lucky. Thankfully, they hadn't lost them both. Top had managed somehow to talk medical into releasing Jaz back into Mcg's care so they could take her back to the hut. They were all dealing with deep grief and didn't want her far from them. McG had settled her into her bed and returned to his room to set his alarm for a 2 hour recheck. He laid down and settled into a fitful sleep. His alarm, however, was not needed as he was startled awake by a figure standing over him in the darkness.
"Jaz?" he called softly, sitting up. "You okay?"
She remained silent, but as his eyes adjusted to the dim light, he could see the tears glistening in her eyes.
"Hey, hey," he said gently, standing up. "What's wrong? Are you in pain?"
Jaz just looked at him, still not speaking. Her silence scared him more than any physical symptom could have.
"Talk to me, Jazzy," he pleaded, carefully taking her arm. "What do you need?"
She finally met his eyes, her gaze vulnerable in a way he'd never seen before. "I... I can't..," she whispered, her voice hoarse. "Every time I close my eyes, I feel... I feel him falling..."
Understanding dawned on McG. He remembered Elijah mentioning once how he'd comforted Jaz after a particularly rough mission. Without a word, McG moved over in his bed, creating space.
"Come here," he said softly, guiding her to sit on the edge of the bed. "Is this what you need?"
Jaz nodded, a single tear escaping down her cheek.
Carefully, mindful of her injuries, McG helped her lie down. He covered her with the blanket before settling in behind her. Jaz immediately turned on her side, pressing her back against his chest.
"I've got you," McG murmured, draping an arm protectively over her. "You're not alone, Jaz. We're right here with you." If being her strength was what she needed, then that is exactly what he was going to be. Truth be told, he needed her as much as she needed him that night and many nights to come.
He felt her body shake with silent sobs, and his own eyes burned with unshed tears. They had lost a brother, a vital piece of their family. But in that moment, as they shared their grief and drew comfort from each other's presence, McG made a silent vow. He would be there for Jaz, just as Elijah had been. He wouldn't lose them both.
"Sleep now," he whispered. "I'll keep watch."
And as Jaz's breathing slowly evened out, McG allowed his own tears to fall, mourning the friend they had lost and holding tight to the family they still had. He was startled back to the present by a small whimper from Jaz. He gently felt her forehead and for the first time in hours she felt a bit cooler. Hoping her temperature was finally dropping, he checked her neck where the rash was and oddly, the rash was fading. He dared to hope that whatever this was, they were finally on the road to recovery.
As the sun began to rise, Mia carefully extricated herself from Top's arms. They had fallen asleep together, waiting for news from DC or Amir. She quickly made her way across town to an abandoned warehouse.
A man dressed all in black was waiting for her. He handed her a small package, his eyes narrowing suspiciously. "Any issues continuing the mission?" he asked, his tone cold. "Considering your... attraction to the commander of Team 7?"
Mia's face remained impassive as she took the small box filled with white powder. "Everything is on track," she assured him, her voice steady. "Special Operations Team 7 will be taken out once and for all."
As she walked away, Mia's mind raced. The stakes were higher than ever now, and she couldn't afford any mistakes. Team 7 had proven more resilient than anyone had anticipated, but she was determined to see this through to the end. No matter the cost.