Chapter Text
Clay knew they weren't going to make it to exfil the moment Sonny went down.
At the sound of his brother's grunt, Clay skidded to a halt, swinging his rifle around and sending a controlled shower of bullets behind them at the advancing tangoes.
"Three, Six – status!" Even through the crackle of their comms, the edge of panic lining Jason's tone was evident.
Clay didn't respond straight away.
Sonny was down, gripping his shoulder, scrambling to get his knees under him.
Clay lunged at his brother, scooping him roughly around his waist and heaving him off the ground.
Sonny had lost his rifle. Snagged his handgun. Made a valiant attempt to hold off their pursuers, though his aim was unsteady.
Clay ran for both of them, hauling his injured team mate along. Dread settled in the pit of his stomach. The others were already at the chopper, were taking heavy fire. Clay and Sonny were still a handful of minutes away. Their team couldn't afford to wait for them.
Clay managed to key his comms between dropping bodies. "One, this is Six -" he panted. "Three is down. We're not gonna make it. Seeking cover. We'll sit tight til you can come back for us."
Leaning against him, Clay felt Sonny tense. They had possibly just sealed their own fate, but it was better than risking the lives of all their brothers.
Clay felt a bullet whiz past his helmet. Paused, aimed - eliminated that particular threat.
Sonny kept pace as best he could. "We go down swinging," the Texan grit. Let out a stifled groan.
Clay swallowed hard. "Not going down." He pushed past his rising fear. "Not today."
Not if he could help it.
Comms crackled, and Jason's stiff voice met their ears. "We'll be back for you." It was a promise.
Clay let a small smile ghost his lips, blinked sweat from his lashes. Carried on hauling ass, lugging his best friend. He didn't doubt it.
Gunshots continued to ring out. Clay heard the distinct sound of a chopper rising in the distance.
Their lifeline, drifting away.
Setting his jaw, he pushed thoughts of his brothers aside. He had to believe they would be okay. He had to trust they would come back. Right now, his only focus had to be Sonny and getting his best friend to safety.
Aside from the enemy hot on their heels, they were fighting daylight. They had completed their op, had acquired their HVT. But they had been pinned in the small Moroccan village by their HVT's not-so-friendly friends.
Clay and Sonny had decided to throw themselves into the line of fire as a distraction, providing an opportunity for the rest of the guys to make it to the chopper with the HVT. Jason would have their asses, for sure. But it had worked. And neither Bravo Three nor Bravo Six had any regrets.
"C'mon," Clay urged, taking more of Sonny's weight as they rounded the corner of a building, shards of stone pinging off their helmets as a bullet caught the corner of the wall.
By Clay's calculations, they were down to three armed men chasing them. He'd caught sight of them briefly in the moments he'd turned around. The men knew these streets better than he and Sonny, and by that measure had an advantage. Clay decided that his best option was to find some cover and face them head-on.
Ignoring Sonny's curses, he hauled his friend over a low stone wall, demanded that he stay down.
"Like hell I will," Sonny shot back. But his right arm was dripping blood, his aim uncontrolled. Even he knew that he was more of a target than a help right now.
Clay trusted his brother would see reason, keep low behind the wall. He pulled himself into a crouch, aimed his rifle, drew a steadying breath.
Three bodies hit the ground in quick succession.
Clay didn't have his reputation for nothing. He quirked his lip triumphantly, eyeing his friend.
Sonny glanced over the wall. Huffed. Shook his head. "I ain't feeding your ego," he grumbled, although his grumble turned into a smile, betraying that he really was impressed - and grateful.
Clay didn't allow time for witty comebacks. He once again slung an arm around his best friend's middle, hauled him up. Glanced at the rocky slope behind them.
They needed to make it up and over the top, as quickly as possible. On the other side, the landscape broke into rocky gullies and hills, with scattered trees and outcrops. It was their best chance of finding cover.
Sonny grit his teeth, allowed Clay to pull him up the small hill. They stumbled in a few places, but made it to the top. Clay turned every few steps to ensure they weren't being followed, rifle continually at the ready.
Once they were over the ridge, they all but slid down the other side. Clay urged Sonny along, refusing to slow down, desperate to put as much distance between them and the village as possible.
They zig-zagged their way along, up a few inclines, down a few gullies. Eventually they found a rocky outcrop perched high enough to spot any approaching threats, shadowy enough to conceal their presence. Panting and aching, they dropped gratefully onto the cool dirt between two large boulders, taking a moment to catch their breath.
Once Clay had steadied his breathing, willed his racing heart calm, he set about assessing Sonny's shoulder.
Thankfully it was a through-and-through. He fished gauze, bandages and antiseptic from his pack. Batted Sonny's hands away when the stubborn Texan attempted to perform first aid on himself. Forced Sonny to take painkillers and sip on water, ignoring arguments that they should conserve their drink.
"They'll come back for us," Clay said, wrapping Sonny's shoulder, conviction in his tone.
"Not doubting that," Sonny countered. "It's the when, I'm not so sure about."
Clay set his jaw, told Sonny again to drink. The older man had thankfully not lost copious amounts of blood, but any amount was too much in this heat.
Sonny grouched. Muttered something about Clay being a bossy little turd.
Clay ignored him. Tried his comms. "HAVOC, this is Bravo Six," he spoke. "Three and I are holed up approximately two clicks to the south-east of the town, using an elevated outcrop as cover."
Nothing.
Clay licked his chapped lips, mouth dry. Felt a twinge center-belly. Darted a look at Sonny. Pushed his nerves away, tried again. "HAVOC, this is Bravo Six, do you copy?"
Once again, silence met his ears. His gut repeated its twinge, and for a moment he felt lightheaded.
Hastily he shook off the discomfort. Now wasn't the time to panic.
Sonny blew out a slow breath, winced, and eased himself back against the cool rock. "Don't like the sound of that silence," he said quietly.
Clay keyed his radio again, even though he knew it was no use. "Bravo One, this is Six. Do you copy?"
Silence.
"Any Bravo element," he continued. "This is Bravo Six, do you copy?"
Nada.
"Looks like it's just you and me, kiddo," Sonny muttered, shifting uncomfortably. He screwed the cap back on his flask. "Seems we should conserve our water, after all."
Clay closed his eyes briefly, thoughts churning. He had to believe that his brothers had made it back to the base, that they would be looking for them as soon as possible. It was unlikely that they would return during the daylight, which meant that he and Sonny had to sit tight for at least the next nine hours.
Clay let his head fall back against the rock. The sun wasn't even high in the sky, yet he was sweating. Frustrated, he scrubbed a hand over his brow.
Beside him, Sonny tracked his actions. "You good?" The Texan queried, eyeing him carefully.
Clay waved him off. He didn't want to allow time to acknowledge the growing sense of uneasiness unfurling within him. He swallowed roughly, ignoring the pull in his gut. He'd probably strained a muscle, knowing his luck, lugging Sonny's heavy ass up the hill. He muttered that the Texan should lose a few pounds.
But Sonny didn't hear him, was leaning back against the rock, eyes squeezed closed, breathing through the pain.
Clay re-checked his team mate's wound, ensuring that the bandage was doing the trick and controlling the bleeding.
Sonny tried, but failed, to swat him away.
"You're a terrible patient," Clay grumbled, tempted to smack his friend's injured shoulder. Restrained himself. Shuffled back to his spot.
The day was warm and still around them, the rocks and the dry earth heating up. Thankfully all was quiet, and it didn't appear anyone had followed them out of the village.
"You should try to get some rest," Clay said, squinting into the glare. "I've got this." His rifle was across his lap, should the need arise.
Sonny looked like he wanted to argue. He stared at Clay for another handful of moments, before closing his eyes again with a curse and a sigh, his weapon loosely gripped.
Clay reached over and patted his leg. "I'll wake you if there's trouble."
"Or if the guys come back for us."
Clay huffed. "You're worried I'd go with them and leave your sorry ass here?"
Sonny's lip quirked. "Wouldn't put it past you."
Clay let out a small laugh, feigned offence. "That hurts, man."
Sonny didn't comment further.
Clay took a steadying breath, set about scanning the surrounding hills. It was going to be a long day.
His stomach twinged again, the pain lingering a little longer this time. He shifted, trying to relieve it. Eventually it let up. If he could, he would have got up and moved around, tried to stretch out whatever muscle was pulling. But it wasn't worth the risk of attracting any unwanted attention. He wished for an instant heat pack - but Trent was the one who carried those.
Clay concentrated once more on monitoring their surroundings, hoping to distract himself. Felt slightly nauseous for a moment. Pushed it away, figuring it was a combination of exhaustion and the heat. Glanced at his watch.
Only eight hours and forty-seven minutes until sun down.
Eight hours and forty-seven minutes to figure out how to let their brothers know where they were – or hope that their radios miraculously crackled back to life.
STSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTST
Davis' heart stopped the moment she heard that Sonny was down.
And when Blackburn gave the order that Bravo return to base, she felt like she couldn't breathe – despite agreeing that it was the right call.
And then when they couldn't raise Sonny or Clay on comms, she felt the ground torn from beneath her and she nearly lost it.
But she swallowed it all down, pulled herself tight at the seams.
She was a professional. Falling apart wouldn't help bring her boys back.
Instead, she threw herself into the task of scanning ISR for any sign of the missing men, desperate for some clue that they were both still alive.
None of them had any idea how bad Sonny's injuries were, and Davis' mind was wild with possibilities. If their comms hadn't gone to shit, then this would be a whole lot easier. They weren't exactly sure what was interfering with the signal, but they didn't have time to mess around trying to figure it out. They had to work with what they had - and work fast.
Like a violent storm, Jason tore into the makeshift command centre.
Davis glanced up briefly, not holding his gaze for fear that any time she spent away from her search was too long.
The rest of Bravo followed, looking worse for wear, radiating anger and barely controlled panic.
"Tell me you've got a lead," Jason threw at Blackburn.
The commander didn't flinch. "We're doing everything we can," he replied tersely.
Jason cursed, turned, punched the wall.
Davis swallowed roughly. Caught Ray's slight flinch.
Bravo Two was normally the voice of reason, but right now the cracks were showing. He made no move to placate his best friend.
Even Brock, normally quiet and calm, shifted anxiously, unable to stay still. Cerb whined by his side.
And Trent looked about two seconds away from completely losing his shit.
Davis processed the men before her. They were all distraught at having to leave two of their brothers behind. They didn't know that Sonny was more than a friend to her, and she couldn't tell them. Biting her lip, tears pricked her eyes. Hastily she pushed them away.
She needed to believe that Clay had got himself and Sonny to safety, that they weren't dead or captured.
Blackburn advised the guys go clean up, get some food.
His suggestion was, unsurprisingly, firmly rejected.
Davis shifted over as Jason roughly pulled up a seat to her right.
Ray leaned on the table to her left.
Brock and Trent hovered behind.
"We have work to do," Jason grit. "They're out there somewhere, and we're damned well gonna find them. And then we're damned well gonna bring them back."
The others murmured their agreement.
Davis was grateful for the extra sets of eyes. She wasn't surprised in the least by their determination. Willing her heart calm, she glanced at the clock.
Eight hours and forty-five minutes until sun down.
She swallowed jaggedly, her sense of urgency increasing.
Eight hours and forty-five minutes was way too long for Sonny and Clay to be out there alone.
STSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTST
As it happened, despite their best efforts - and Jason threatening to go out and search by foot in broad daylight - they didn't manage to locate Sonny and Clay before nightfall.
But, as the sun sank below the horizon, Davis caught sight of what appeared to be a small, rhythmically flicking light, coming from one of the rocky hills south-east of the town.
Her breath caught.
Jason noticed the light a few seconds after she did, leaning closer to the screen to get a better look. He narrowed his eyes, watching for a moment, before a smile cracked across his lips. "Spenser, you good little boy scout, you," he muttered.
Ray was on his feet, also edging in for a look. After a moment he wore a smile mirroring Jason's. "Morse code?"
Jason whirled, whistled to Brock and Trent.
Davis felt hope swell within her. It most definitely was Morse code.
B3 B6.
Her boys were alive.
Blackburn straightened from where he sat, pushing his chair back and hurriedly joining the rest of them.
Davis noticed a minute amount of tension leave the commander's shoulders as he regarded the screen.
"Good enough for me," he stated, not managing to suppress his grin. He nodded at Jason. "Let's go get them."
Jason was already halfway to the door, the others not far behind.
Davis wanted so badly to go with them, to see with her own eyes that Sonny was okay.
"Comms are still down," she called after them. "Radio from the chopper when you have them."
Try as she might, there was no disguising the concern in her tone.
Tears once again threatened, pricking the corners of her eyes. She hurriedly swung her gaze back to the screen and the flashing light.
Hold on guys, she thought, watching the B3 and B6 repeat over and over.
We're coming.
STSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTST
Clay was halfway back to check on Sonny when he heard the distant thump-thump-thump of a rotor. He paused, hand on a still-warm rock, steadying himself as he listened, hope sparking through his chest.
The sound was growing stronger. Most definitely a chopper.
The chance of any unfriendlies having access to satellite feeds and choppers around here was slim, which meant that the approaching aircraft was more than likely their lift back to base.
Their brothers had found them.
He'd never doubted they would.
Ignoring the growing ache in his gut, slight tremors and sweats, Clay picked his way as quickly as he dared back to where Sonny waited.
"That what I think it is?" Sonny was a silhouette in the near darkness.
Clay muted the glow from his flashlight, began to gather their things. Couldn't help the grin from tugging at his lips. It hurt to bend over, but he pushed the discomfort aside. "I told you they'd see the bat signal," he replied.
Sonny huffed, allowed himself to be helped upright.
Clay took a moment to steady them, which didn't go unnoticed by the Texan.
"You alright there, Batman?" Sonny asked.
Clay brushed off the concern. Began moving them away from the boulders, back towards the top of the hill. "Just tired," he lied. A sudden sharp pain spiked through his gut, stole his breath. He bit his lip, pushed through it. Whatever he'd pulled, he would deal with it later.
Thankfully Sonny was taking most of his own weight, cradling his right arm close to his body. He didn't comment further – seemingly too focused on not tripping over in the dark.
Clay lit their way as much as he dared. He didn't expect that any unfriendly eyes would be watching them from here, but you never could be too careful.
The chopper's noise grew louder and louder, and as they reached the top of the hill they saw it approaching.
Clay flicked off his flashlight, trying to make out any markings on the metal bird that would confirm it was their brothers.
Beside him, Sonny seemed to be doing the same.
As much as they wanted to get out of this place, they weren't quite ready to give away their position. Not until they were sure.
The chopper hovered above the top of the hill, its light searching. Once the bright beam swung away from them, Clay was able to recognize the aircraft as military. With a quick squeeze to Sonny's good shoulder, he pushed himself upright, flicked on his flashlight to draw attention to their position.
Two ropes dropped from the chopper opening, and two harnessed bodies swiftly descended.
Clay pulled Sonny towards them.
Trent and Jason greeted them, the former quickly setting about assessing Sonny's shoulder.
Jason stood, hands on hips, relief battling it out with frustration across his features. He regarded Clay. "I have a lot to say to you two," he yelled over the noise of the chopper. "That stunt you pulled back there, both of you idiots acting as bait to draw the attention away from us, that absolutely cannot happen again."
Sonny scoffed, let Trent help him with his harness. "Saved your asses, didn't it?" He yelled back.
Jason didn't look impressed, but also didn't deny the fact. He narrowed his eyes. "There's a lot of hill running in your near future," he shot back.
"Ran up a few hills to get here," Clay argued, fixing his own harness. "They count?"
Jason rolled his eyes.
"Come on," Sonny grinned. "You missed us, just a little bit."
Trent signaled that Sonny was ready to go up.
"Just get in the fucking chopper," Jason grumbled. But for a brief moment, a small smile flickered across his lips. He leaned in closer to Clay as Sonny was lifted off the ground. "Good thinking with the flashlight," he said, patting him on the back.
Clay offered half a smile. "How'd you know that was me?"
Jason pinned him with a look, raised a brow. "I've known Sonny a long time – his brain isn't his strongest feature."
Clay held back a laugh. He loved Sonny, but he couldn't argue that Jason was right. He went to finish connecting his harness, but another sudden sharp pain through his gut had his fingers faltering. Somehow, he managed to breathe through it, and Jason didn't seem to notice.
What the hell had he done? He didn't want to feed the worry by spending any time thinking about it, but at the same time, it was growing harder to ignore.
Just get back to base, he told himself. Then figure it out.
Clay finished securing his harness. His hands were shaky, and he felt cold despite the lingering heat of the day.
Jason clapped him on the shoulder, gave a thumbs up to the guys above. "Let's get the hell out of here."
Clay nodded jerkily, blinked against a wave of dizziness. "Copy that."
STSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTST
When Blackburn got the call from the chopper that Sonny and Clay had been found safe and reasonably well - all things considered – Davis finally felt like she could breathe again. Her heart resumed a more regular rhythm, and the world shifted back the right way up.
She dropped into a chair with a heavy exhalation, leaning elbows on the table and covering her face with her slightly trembling hands.
Crisis averted.
She wasn't going to have to leave here with her heart in a flag-covered box, thank God.
Sonny was injured, but Trent had reported that it was a through-and-through to the shoulder. Davis swallowed back the lump in her throat, banishing the worst-case scenario thoughts that had been swirling through her mind since she'd heard that he was down.
A hand landed on her shoulder, startling her.
Davis lifted her eyes to meet Blackburn's, immediately noticing the emotion behind the commander's gaze.
They traded an exhausted but relieved bob of the head and half-smile.
"Let's pack this up," Blackburn said, clearing his throat and squeezing her shoulder.
She nodded jerkily, hastily wiping her eyes on the back of her sleeve. Pushed up from her chair.
Trent had said that Sonny would be okay to travel. They had already stayed longer than planned in Morocco and were more than ready to head home, now that their team were all accounted for.
She quickly set about shutting down laptops, collapsing their makeshift command centre. The chopper was about ten minutes out. The C-17 was fueled and ready to go. With any luck, they would be on their way within the hour.
She glanced around at the support personnel, everyone hastily closing up shop. The tension that had lingered heavy and tight in the air had been replaced with welcome relief. There was room to move again. To breathe.
Closing another laptop and pulling cords and cables, she drew a grounding breath, drew the remainder of herself together. The chopper couldn't arrive fast enough. Now all she had to do was hold it together when she saw Sonny, and make sure her reaction remained in the realm of professional.
STSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTST
Davis successfully didn't throw herself at Sonny when her boys arrived back at base. Although God knew she wanted to wrap her arms around him, hold tight until the last of the adrenaline left her veins.
She settled for a squeeze of his good shoulder, a brief clasp of his hand as he was helped from the chopper to the waiting C-17. She hovered as he was loaded onto a gurney, speared him with a reproachful look when he attempted to shake Trent off and insist he was fine. Stood by to make sure he laid his stubborn ass down and allowed Trent to start an IV.
"Quite the scare you guys gave us," she said, tone frayed around the edges.
Sonny's gaze met hers, emotions matched, and a hint of an apology lined his features. "Oh, you know," he'd replied, trying for casual - falling short. "Just decided we needed to see a little more of the countryside, have a bit of an adventure."
Trent rolled his eyes. Ordered him to stay put.
Davis desperately wanted to stay by Sonny's side, but she knew she had work to do. Lingering would draw suspicion. She squeezed his hand one more time, resisting the urge to lean down and kiss him. "I'm glad you're okay," she whispered.
He blew out an unsteady breath, offered a clipped nod. Moved his hand to briefly squeeze hers in return.
There was more she wanted to say, but it was neither the time nor the place. Instead she offered a tired smile, before pulling her shoulders straighter and redirecting her attention to her tasks at hand.
It took a great deal of effort for her to move from his side, but she managed it - the warmth and reassurance of his touch lingering on her hand for minutes after.
STSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTST
Once in the air and everything taken care of, Davis debated returning to the side of the gurney. The rest of Bravo were gathered on benches by their injured team mate, everyone enjoying a cold beer and a laugh – much to Sonny's annoyance.
"Come on," the Texan grouched. "Just one beer. God knows I've earned it."
But Trent couldn't be swayed. He shook his head defiantly. Took a swig of his beer. "No can do," he stated, unapologetic. "Painkillers and alcohol don't mix. Even the greenest medic knows that."
Sonny let out a string of curses, unamused.
"I'm sure you'll make up for it," Jason offered, swinging his bottle between his knees as he leaned forward.
"Yeah, well, you lot are buying when I do," Sonny argued. "Goldilocks and I saved your asses back there."
Jason's brow lifted slightly. "You nearly got yourselves killed. I don't owe you a drink – I owe you an ass kicking."
Sonny let out more curses, and the corner of Jason's mouth twitched into a slight smile.
Davis let her eyes linger on Sonny, before seeking out Clay. She owed Bravo Six a thank you for bringing Sonny back to her in one piece. But Clay was smart - her gratitude would draw questions. She couldn't thank him outright for saving her heart, but she could at least sit with him and have a drink.
Davis' brow furrowed as she regarded Clay. He was sitting at the end of the bench, slightly turned away from the rest of the guys. He held a beer but didn't seem to be drinking. His shoulders were stiff, and he held himself at a slightly awkward angle. Her eyes flicked to the rest of the guys, but none of them seemed to have noticed Clay's demeaner.
Deciding not to snag a beer, Davis made her way over to the bench and took a seat beside Clay.
He seemed startled by her sudden appearance, which was very unlike him, but he managed to cover it up with a tight smile.
Davis regarded him a moment, noting the pinched lines at the corners of his eyes, the set of his jaw. Despite the chill of the aircraft, he appeared to be sweating.
"You okay?" She probed, feeling concern tingle through her gut.
Clay did his best to shake the worry off, but his attempted casual shrug turned into a barely suppressed wince.
Davis shifted to face him, eyeing him, unconvinced. She reached out a hand to his shoulder and realized that he was trembling. Far too much heat was radiating through his shirt sleeve. Her concern tripled, and she moved her hand quickly to his forehead, confirming that he was indeed burning up. "God, Clay," she breathed. "I could fry an egg on you. What's going on?"
Clay winced again, pulling away from her touch.
She dropped her hand to his forearm, which was also ridiculously hot.
He groaned and hugged his middle, hunching over slightly.
Davis grabbed the still full beer bottle from his other hand and placed it on the floor before he could drop it. She gripped him gently by the shoulders, steadying him. "Trent!" She called, darting her gaze towards their medic, who was just about to take another sip of his drink.
Trent paused, startled by her tone, and the others quickly stopped their chattering to also glance in her direction.
Clay, for his part, squeezed his eyes closed and nearly toppled forward into her. He would have face-planted if she hadn't been holding him upright. He let out another groan, gritting his teeth and breathing jaggedly through his nose. His forehead dropped to her shoulder.
The remaining members of Bravo were on their feet in an instant, quickly gathering around her.
Sonny pushed against the straps of the gurney, demanding someone let him up.
Trent dropped to his knees on Davis' left, yelling back at Sonny to stay put.
"He has a fever," Davis reported, allowing Clay to keep his head on her shoulder and continuing to help support his weight.
"What's going on, buddy?" Trent said, placing a hand on the back of Clay's neck, pursing his lips as he noted the intense heat.
Clay couldn't seem to catch his breath. He groaned again, lifting his head from Davis' shoulder, and curled further in on himself. "Stomach," he ground out, eyes squeezed shut so tightly that his lashes were hardly visible. "Thought I … pulled something … but it's getting worse. Hurts so -" His breath caught before he could finish. Another groan, this one more like a sob, escaped his lips.
Davis was having trouble holding Clay upright. He seemed intent on folding himself in half.
Trent stepped in, taking Clay's shoulders and maneuvering him down onto the bench. He lay Clay on his back, but Clay's knees came up and he curled into a tight ball, rolling onto his right side.
Davis stood up, stepping back slightly to allow Trent space to work. She noticed that Blackburn had appeared. He lingered anxiously like the rest of them.
Sonny demanded to know what was going on, trying once more to free himself from the straps.
Davis shot him a look, willing him to stay down. She understood his concern, but they didn't need him opening his wound and bleeding all over the place.
Jason dropped to his knees beside Clay's head, taking over from Trent and holding the younger man's shoulders. "The hell, Spenser?" he said. But his words were empty of anger, heavy with worry.
Clay fought to maintain his balled-up state, but Trent managed to pry a knee away from his torso, slipping his hand against Clay's stomach and probing the area.
Clay let out a cry of pain, twisting away from Trent's touch.
Trent retracted his hand quickly, mouth set in an even tighter line. "Okay, okay," he soothed. "Easy."
Clay's chest hitched with jagged breaths. "Fuck," he grit, teeth clenched together, knuckles white as his fingers snagged Jason's shirt sleeve and he held tight.
"Trent?" Jason pushed, leaning closer to Clay as the younger man pulled on his sleeve as if trying to anchor himself against the pain that threatened to tear him away.
Trent's eyes darted briefly to Jason, before snagging on Blackburn. "We gotta get him to a hospital," he stated grimly.
"How urgent?" Blackburn stepped forward, cutting off whatever Jason was about to say.
Davis felt her heartrate pick up. Mentally she did the calculations on their current location.
"ASAP," Trent gave a clipped reply. He nodded towards Brock. "Grab my kit."
Brock darted off without hesitation, eyes bright with worry.
Davis met Blackburn's gaze. She swallowed jaggedly. "There's a base in France. Excellent medical facilities. We could be there within half an hour."
Blackburn pinned Trent with a look, as if seeking his approval.
Trent nodded, bit his lip. "It'll have to do."
Clay groaned against another wave of pain, and Jason did his best not to topple over as his shirt sleeve was tugged even harder.
"Let them know to have a surgeon ready," Trent continued.
Davis felt her stomach knot.
Blackburn raised a brow.
Trent raked a hand through his hair. "Given the location of his pain, and the other symptoms he's experiencing, my best guess is very badly timed appendicitis."
Jason swore under his breath.
Clay writhed around, nearly toppling off the bench. His eyes were still scrunched closed and his unruly curls stuck to his sweaty forehead. He looked much, much younger than his years. It was debatable whether he'd heard Trent's suspected diagnosis.
"He gonna be alright?" Sonny hollered, trying once again to get Clay in his line of sight.
Trent hesitated a little too long for anyone's liking, before replying tightly, "Judging by his level of pain, I don't think it's ruptured yet."
Brock reappeared and tossed Trent his kit.
Jason shifted uneasily, a protective hand on Clay's still hitching chest. "But it could, any minute, right?"
Trent nodded grimly, hastily opening his kit and pulling out a shot of morphine.
"Let's get that message to the pilot, and the French base," Blackburn stated.
Davis nodded. She caught Sonny's desperate gaze, and realized she was probably mirroring his expression.
How had things suddenly gone so bad? One moment they were celebrating, and now they were hoping against hell that Clay would be okay.
Trent gave orders, and Jason and Brock wrangled a still groaning and squirming Clay onto his side.
Davis averted her eyes a moment too late, as Trent roughly yanked down Clay's pants and jabbed the needle into his butt cheek.
Feeling her face flush, she hurried away to make the necessary calls to get the plane on the ground, and their youngest team member to a hospital before it was too late.
STSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTST
Clay drifted back to consciousness slowly. The first thing he noticed was the dryness in his mouth. He attempted to swallow a couple of times to moisten it, but his body seemed to respond one step behind his brain.
Cracking open heavy eyelids to slits, he took stock of his surroundings as best he could in his hazy state:
Crisp sheets.
The rhythmic beep of a monitor.
The automatic squeeze of a blood pressure cuff. The hiss as it released, and the beep of another machine.
The cool stream of air being forced up his nose.
And the God-awful smell of disinfectant, stale food, and bad coffee that could only be found in one place.
Clay groaned, raising his eyelids the rest of the way. He hated hospitals. He attempted to lift a hand, but found it was tangled in an IV cord. Tracing the cord with his gaze, he noticed the half empty bag of fluid. His vision was fuzzy around the edges, his thoughts floaty. He must be on some good stuff. Blinking up at the fluid in the bag, as if it would provide him with answers, Clay wondered what the hell had happened to land him in here.
"You awake there, Sleeping Beauty?"
Clay would know that Texan drawl anywhere. He shifted his gaze, expecting to see Sonny sitting in a chair by his bed.
But instead Sonny lay a few feet away, in a bed of his own – propped up on pillows, his chest bare, and a thick bandage wrapped around it and his right shoulder.
Clay's memory caught up, and the events of the past – how long had it been, exactly? He glanced around, hoping for some clue. The last thing he recalled was being with the guys on the C-17, heading home.
"Just in case you're wondering," Sonny provided, wincing slightly as he attempted to sit up straighter. "We didn't quite make it back to the States."
Clay blinked heavily, furrowed his brow. "We didn't?" He croaked, voice not quite working. He attempted to shift to get a better view of Sonny, but a pain lanced through his abdomen and stole his breath.
"Yeah, I wouldn't be moving around too much there, sunshine," Sonny cautioned.
Clay took a moment to catch his breath. More memories came back to him, and he recalled the pain he had experienced once they'd left Morocco. It had been excruciating.
Sonny must have picked up on his confusion, because he provided the answer. "You, my friend, have the worst timing, and the worst luck."
Clay darted his gaze across to the other bed. Lifted a brow. "What's that supposed to mean?"
Sonny snagged a paper bag from the table by his bed, rifled around in it. "It means you gave us one hell of a scare. And are now minus an appendix."
Clay processed the information. Appendicitis? Seriously?
"Only you, Goldilocks," Sonny muttered, fishing a pastry out of the bag and tearing off a bite. He held up the bag and shook it in Clay's direction. "You just had to one-up me, didn't you?"
Clay huffed, tried not to laugh. "Gee, I'm sorry," he replied. "Next time I'll be more considerate with my timing."
Sonny's lip quirked, and he held Clay's gaze for a moment. "I never did get to say a proper thank you," he said, tone turning serious and the smile fading. "You saved my bacon back there. You didn't give up, even though I was pretty sure we weren't gonna make it."
Clay thought back to their day stranded on the rocky hillside, radios not working and Sonny slowly bleeding out. It was a day he would happily forget. "You would have done the same for me," he stated.
Sonny nodded slowly. "Damn straight," he agreed. "But I'm not nearly as sharp a shooter, and I'm not confident I would have thought of the whole Morse code with the flashlight thingy. You're like a bad-ass MacGyver sometimes, you know that?"
Clay snorted.
"No, really," Sonny continued, tone genuine. "You did good back there, kid."
Despite the fuzziness of the drugs, Clay recognized the moment for what it was. "I'm glad you're okay," he said, feeling his eyelids droop. He wanted to go back to sleep, but something told him he had done a fair amount of that already.
Sonny popped the last bit of pastry in his mouth and grinned. "We're both here to see another day, that's the main thing."
Clay forced his eyes open, brow furrowing once again. "Where are we, exactly?"
Sonny swallowed his mouthful, made a show of smacking his lips. "France," he stated. "Military base, not far out of Paris."
Clay's eyes widened.
"Had to land in a hurry, before your nasty little organ exploded and killed you," Sonny explained.
Clay made a face.
"I have to say -" Sonny balled up the paper bag, aimed and threw it towards a trash can in the corner. Cursed when it hit the rim and landed on the floor. "The croissants are fucking amazing. Davis has brought me, like, three bags of the mini ones already."
Clay was still processing the fact that they had had to make an emergency stop, all because of him. He felt slightly embarrassed. He told Sonny as much.
But Sonny brushed him off. "Don't feel too bad," he stated. "Blackburn gave the guys some free time this morning, once we knew you were gonna be okay. None of them have been here, and Brock wanted to climb the Eiffel Tower."
Clay felt his embarrassment give way to disappointment. He'd never been to Paris either. Hopefully he'd have another chance one day. "You're not sad you couldn't go with them?"
Sonny huffed a laugh. "I have zero interest in climbing that tower. Nor seeing museums, or art, or whatever else it is people see when they come here." He patted his belly. "I'm happy with my buttery pastries, thank you very much."
Before Clay could reply, the door cracked open and Jason popped his head in. Upon seeing Clay awake, he threw the door open, giving the others permission to spill into the room.
"He really awake this time?" Jason asked Sonny, as he entered and approached Clay's bed.
"Yep," replied the Texan. "Goldilocks is back with us."
Clay blinked, confused.
Jason patted his arm, squeezed a smile. "Good to have you back this time, buddy," he said gently.
Clay's gaze flicked to Sonny. "Did I wake up previously?"
Trent approached and immediately set about checking Clay's monitors. Once content with his observations, he explained. "You woke up a few times after the surgery. But you had trouble coming out of the anesthetic. You were here, but you weren't here. Babbled incoherently, mainly. Only for a minute or so at a time."
"You said something about a monkey stealing your banana," Jason reflected, amused.
Brock stepped forward, wearing a ridiculous hat with a floppy Eiffel Tower on top, and a wide grin. "I'm sure he said 'Sonny', not 'monkey'."
Clay watched the Eiffel Tower bob up and down as Brock chuckled. He couldn't remember any of that. He felt his cheeks flush.
"You said something about chickens as well," Ray offered from where he leaned against the wall, grinning.
"Oh God," Clay breathed, closing his eyes. He would never live this one down.
He felt something placed upon his head, and cracked his eyes open again to see Brock leaning over the bed. "Hat's for you," Bravo Five said, adjusting it on Clay's head and offering another grin. "It's the least I can do, to say thanks for the pit stop."
Clay sighed. Returned the smile. "No problem," he muttered. He was too tired and sore to pull the hat off his head.
Blackburn appeared, and Davis squeezed into the room behind him. She smiled warmly at Clay, before tossing another paper bag at Sonny.
"Oh God yes," the Texan moaned, opening the bag and sniffing the contents.
Jason rolled his eyes.
"Come on," Trent said, motioning everyone back towards the door. "Let's clear out and let the doctor come and check on Clay."
Sonny snorted, taking a large bite of croissant. "Sawyer the party pooper," he said, words muffled around the mouthful.
Trent pinned him with a look.
Blackburn repeated Trent's instruction. "Come on, you heard the man," he said. "Let's find out when we can head home."
Clay caught the commander's gaze.
"As soon as he clears you," Blackburn clarified. "We'll be on our way."
Davis waited until the others had cleared out, before stepping up to Clay's bed and giving his leg a gentle squeeze. She produced a small teddy bear wearing the French colors, and placed it on the side table. "A get well present," she explained with a smile. "A souvenir from our unplanned stop."
"Hey, where's my soft toy?" came Sonny's complaint.
She turned and threw him a stern look. "You get pastries. Clay gets a teddy bear."
Clay smiled tiredly. "Thank you," he said.
Davis nodded, reaching up to remove the hat from his head. Gently smoothed down his unruly curls. "I'm glad you're still with us," she said.
"Who needs an appendix anyway, right?" Clay mumbled.
She patted his leg again. "That's the spirit." Her eyes flicked to Sonny. "I'm glad you're both still with us," she amended.
"Aw, did you hear that, Clay?" Sonny said, swallowing a large mouthful of food. "Davis loves us."
Clay watched as his two friends traded a look. He may have been pumped full of painkillers, but he didn't miss the affection that passed between them - the briefest flicker of genuine warmth that lit their eyes. It looked suspiciously like …
Clay shook the thought free, before it had a chance to properly take root in his mind. He was loopy on medication, not thinking straight.
He blinked heavily, eyeing his friends once again. But the look they had traded was long gone, and his eyes were barely staying open.
Davis noticed him flagging, rubbed his knee. "Get some rest," she suggested gently.
"Mmmm," he replied, too tired to form proper words.
As he let his eyes close, he found himself thinking that in another life, under different circumstances, Sonny and Davis would actually make a great couple. It was a happy thought, and a faint smile tugged at his lips as he drifted off.
He was already asleep when his two friends shared a quick kiss, foreheads leaning together for a moment afterwards – their secret still safe, for now.