"JAZ!" McG's voice carried across the compound, raw with a fear his teammates had never heard before. He caught her just before her head hit the unforgiving ground, one hand cradling her head while the other moved instantly to check her pulse. Her skin was clammy, face ashen in the rooms harsh lights.
Top was already on comms with DC. "Patricia, we need medical now. Jaz is crashing."
McG's voice was tight as he reported to Patricia. "Possible tension pneumothorax developing. Previous rib fractures likely shifted during shot setup. Need immediate transport to base hospital."
Through the comms, they could hear Patricia coordinating rapidly with base command. "All units, be advised. Medical emergency at communications building. Priority one transport needed. I want an ambulance and medics on sight in less than 5 minuets. MOVE!"
McG's hands moved with skilled efficiency, his medical training in over drive. "Pulse is rapid, breathing shallow and labored." He noted the slight bluish tint to her lips with growing alarm as he placed the pulse ox meter on her finger. "O2 dropping rapidly and fluctuating between the low 90's and high 80's."
Jaz's fingers found Top's hand, gripping with surprising strength as McG continued his assessment. Her breathing started coming in short, painful gasps. "Can't... breathe..."
"Easy, Jaz," Top soothed, squeezing her hand while staying out of McG's way. "Help's coming."
Jaz's eyes were starting to lose focus, her words becoming slurred. "Papa was right... worthless..." She blinked rapidly, confusion evident on her face as her oxygen levels continued to drop. "No... not worthless... proved..."
"You're not worthless," Top cut in firmly, recognizing the oxygen deprivation was making her barriers slip. "Stay with us, Jaz."
McG kept up his steady stream of vitals and observations to Patricia, who was coordinating with the base hospital, while his free hand maintained constant contact with Jaz's shoulder. The touch was both medical monitoring and reassurance - a grounding presence she'd come to rely on through countless injuries and hard nights.
Amir moved to help clear the area as sirens grew closer, his eyes never leaving his teammate's face. Preach was already coordinating with the MPs, ensuring a clear path for the incoming medical team.
The medical team arrived in a controlled rush of activity. McG shifted seamlessly into his role as combat medic, never breaking his professional rhythm. "Sergeant Jasmine Khan, 24, multiple cracked ribs and severe concussion from five days ago. Currently showing increasing respiratory distress, O2 87 and dropping, probable pneumothorax developing..."
"On three," the medic called as they transferred Jaz to the ambulance gurney. Despite her semiconscious state, she fought against the movement, her breath coming in painful gasps.
"Easy, Jazzy," McG steadied her as the medics efficiently secured her. One inserted an IV line while another wrapped the blood pressure cuff around her arm. The pulse oximeter cast a dim red glow on her finger.
"O2 stats still dropping," the medic reported, reaching for the oxygen mask. Jaz turned her head away, fighting against the mask even as she struggled for air.
"No... don't..." she mumbled, trying to push it away with weakening hands, whipping her head side to side.
"Jaz," McG caught her hands in one of his while helping the medic position the mask with the other. "You need this. Work with me here."
Top climbed in beside them taking her hands in his. "Your father was wrong about you, Jaz. His loss was our gain..there's not a member of this team who wishes you weren't ours."
"Had to prove..." she slurred, still fighting against the mask even as McG held it firmly in place. "Papa said... worthless..." Her eyes rolled back slightly, consciousness wavering as her oxygen levels continued to drop.
"Push 5 of Versed," the medic ordered, noting Jaz's increasing agitation. "We need to get her as stable as we can for transport."
"Worthless..." Jaz mumbled behind the mask, tears leaking from the corners of her eyes. "He said... I was..."
"Listen to me," Top's voice cut through her delirium, firm but gentle. "You are irreplaceable. In our lives. To this team. To your country."
The sirens wailed as they sped toward the base hospital, McG maintaining constant pressure on the oxygen mask as Jaz continued to struggle against it while monitoring her vitals. "BP's 90/60 and dropping. Pulse ox holding at 86 with supplemental oxygen but noticing her skin taking on a more pronounced bluish tinge.
"Papa said...I was a waste..."
Jaz drifted in and out of awareness during the drive, sometimes gripping McG's hand with surprising strength, other times going frighteningly still. Her breath fogged the mask in irregular patterns.
"Almost there," McG assured her, his thumb brushing across her knuckles. "Just stay with us."
Jaz mumbled, trying to push away the oxygen mask. Her eyes were glassy, unfocused. "Had to prove... had to show them..."
"Keep that mask on, Jazzy," McG said firmly, gently catching her hand. "You proved everything you needed to prove tonight."
Top sat on her other side, his presence steady despite the ambulance's sway. "Your father was wrong, Jaz. He's always been wrong." "worthless..." she slurred, tears leaking from the corners of her eyes. "Said I was...hated..." Her back arched suddenly as she struggled for air. "Can't... breathe..."
"BP dropping," one of the medics called out. "Pulse ox down to 82."
"I've got you, Jazzy," he assured her, his thumb brushing across her knuckles while his other hand helped the medics adjust the oxygen flow. "Just focus on breathing."
McG's voice remained steady even as his hands tightened on Jaz's. "Stay with us, Jaz. Almost there."
They burst through the hospital doors in a controlled rush of movement. Top kept pace until a nurse physically blocked his path. "Sir, you need to wait here."
"Like hell—" he started, but McG cut him off.
"I've got her, Top. I promise."
At the base hospital, everything moved with practiced efficiency. McG's status as both combat medic and team member smoothed the way, his precise medical reports ensuring immediate action. X-rays confirmed what they'd feared - one of the cracked ribs had shifted during her shot setup, the strain of maintaining position and absorbing the rifle's recoil causing additional damage. They rushed her to CT for a more detailed look.
"No..." Jaz fought against the CT table. "Can't... trapped..."
"Focus on my voice," McG kept hold of her hand until the last possible moment. "Quick scan and then we'll get you breathing easier. I promise."
The CT revealed the full extent of the damage - the shifted rib had created a significant pneumothorax that was rapidly compromising her breathing. Back in the trauma bay, the medical team prepped for chest tube insertion.
"We need to place a chest tube immediately," the doctor explained. "Even with local anesthetic, this will be uncomfortable."
Top forced his way back in when he saw them rushing her back from CT "I'm staying," Top said, his tone brooking no argument. The doctor looked ready to object until McG stepped in.
"He's her team leader. Trust me, you want him here."
They positioned Jaz on her side, prepping the insertion site with antiseptic. Even through the sedation and local anesthetic, her body tensed as they began the procedure.
"Papa..." she gasped, her hand finding Top's. "hated me..he hated me..."
"We know," Top's voice was as soothing as he could be. "We don't hate you, we love you. You're our Jaz. Our Sniper"
The chest tube insertion was brutal. Even with the medication, Jaz's back arched as they made the incision and created the tunnel through her chest wall. Her fingers clenched around Top's hand with bruising force.
"Almost done," McG coached from her other side, monitoring her vitals while maintaining steady pressure on her shoulder. "You're doing great, Jazzy."
When they finally threaded the tube into place, the effect was almost immediate. The monitors showed improving oxygen levels as the pressure in her chest cavity decreased.
"Better?" McG asked softly, noting the slight ease in her breathing.
"Team..." she mumbled, fighting to keep her eyes open. "Need..."
"You have your team Jaz. You have your family. We're all safe because you had our backs like you have for years" Top said as he smoothed her soaking wet hair out of her face. McG was relieved to have the back up and actually shocked Top had lasted as long as he did before barging into her room. The hospital staff was well versed in Captain Dalton's patience threshold of waiting on information about his team and taking matters into his own hands if he felt things were taking too long.
A nurse appeared in Jaz's hospital room doorway, her expression urgent. "Captain Dalton? There's a priority one call for you at the front desk."
Top glanced at Jaz, who was finally resting after the chest tube insertion, McG still maintaining his vigil at her side.
"Go," McG nodded. "I've got her."
At the front desk, the nurse handed him a secure phone. "Director Campbell says it's urgent."
Top had barely made it to the hallway when Patricia's voice came through. "Adam, I realized you must have yanked comms. I need you to go back online and switch to secure comms immediately. This can't wait."
He stepped outside, adjusting his earpiece. "Go for Dalton."
"I have some extremely disturbing information you need to see. Return to the hut as soon as you can, but first - make sure Jaz's room is secured. No one gets in or out without McG's direct approval."
Something in her tone made his blood run cold. "Patricia..."
"Trust me, Adam."
He ran back to Jaz's room. "McG, no one enters this room without your direct permission. No one. I don't care if it's the base commander himself."
McG straightened, instantly alert. "What's going on?"
"I'll explain when I can. Just... don't leave her side."
Back at the hut, Top found Patricia, Hannah, and Noah waiting on the screen, their expressions grim.
"Open team comms," Top ordered. "McG needs to hear this."
"Here, ma'am," McG's voice came through quietly.
Patricia's voice softened slightly. "How is she?"
"Pulse ox up to low 90s now. She's finally resting."
Hannah took a deep breath. "What we found... it's far worse than we imagined. He's been tracking her. Watching her."
Top's hands clenched into fists. "How long?"
The silence stretched.
"HOW LONG?" His voice carried an edge none of them had heard before.
"Over two years, Adam," Patricia said quietly. "Over two years. We found entries about her, McG, and Elijah out in Nice and Barcelona. Photos of her at the beach with the team at Preach's family gathering. Preach carrying her to the Humvee while you and McG carried Elijah's body. Elijah's funeral. Playing horseshoes with Amir and McG. You and McG taking her into the base hospital after Tehran..."
"You can keep going, can't you, ma'am?" Preach's voice was deadly quiet.
"Yes..." Patricia's voice was heavy. "Yes, I could."
The sound of Top's coffee cup shattering against the wall echoed through the comms. McG remained silent, the only sound the soft beeping of Jaz's monitors until they heard her stir with a small sound of pain.
Noah joined the conversation, his fingers flying over a keyboard off-screen. "More than that. He was building a team," Noah concluded, his jaw tight. "A team of washouts and rejects." We found communications suggesting they were planning to offer their services to the highest bidder. Private military contractors with no oversight and nothing to lose."
"This wasn't just about stealing secrets," Noah added. "The attack on Jaz was meant to send a message. To prove that women had no place in special operations."
Top's hands clenched into fists. "How far does this go, Patricia?"
"Deep," she replied grimly. "We're finding connections to several private military companies, all with histories of opposing female integration in combat roles. Companies with significant influence in certain military circles."
"They wanted to make an example of her," Preach said quietly. "Show what happens when women try to join the boys' club."
"Instead," Hannah responded with fierce pride, "she showed them exactly why she belongs here. That shot tonight? With cracked ribs and while developing a pneumothorax? It's already being talked about all over the DIA."
"She didn't just prove she belongs," Amir added. "She proved she's better than any of them could ever be."
"Go be with her," Patricia said softly. "We'll handle things from here."
"Okay," Top's voice was controlled fury. "But Patricia? We're going to burn him and his network to the ground."
"Damn straight and I'll light the match" Patricia's response carried the weight of a promise. "We'll contact you when we have more."
In the hospital room, McG's hand tightened around Jaz's as she shifted restlessly in her sleep, unaware of the storm gathering around her. His other hand checked the security of her chest tube, his movements gentle despite the rage evident in his eyes.
The comms went silent, but McG maintained his protective vigil, watching Jaz's monitors with unwavering attention while cataloging every moment, every photo, every violation of her privacy that Hawkins had documented. His jaw clenched as he remembered those days in Nice with Elijah, the beach day with Preach's family, - all of it tainted now by the knowledge that they'd been watched, that she'd been watched.
The heart monitor's steady beeping was the only sound as he whispered, "We've got you, Jazzy. And they're going to pay"