Welcome to DEVGRU

By: MusketeerAdventure

Summary: Clay survives his first OP despite some unfortunate missteps and his own doubts.

Clay lifted the NOG to rest atop his helmet and blinked rapidly to adjust his vision.

The sudden change from surreal glowing green to the natural pitch black of night was disorienting. So, he forced himself to stare out into the thick ink of night without squinting…without trying to "see". It was a difficult thing to do, as total blindness descended and his heart beat ratcheted up a notch.

But he remembered his training, and took slow, deep breaths.

Incrementally, he could just make out the shadowy silhouettes of his team mates standing close by. Each one of them seemed to be a mirror of himself – staring off into the darkness; attempting to make out shapes and figures without their night vision gear to assist.

When he blinked again, some two hundred and fifty feet away, he spotted murky outlines of the Special Forces ODA transports, waiting across the border…. ready to greet them. Slight movement amongst the tree line caught his attention and nearby he could sense Cerberus leave her seated ready position and stand to her feet. "I see them too", he heard Brock murmur and watched as he rubbed behind her ears to ease her nerves.

Though he could not see them, the urgency in Davis' voice over the com let him know that the Chinese Army was making their way up the mountain, gaining on them fast.

They had to move soon, or risk being caught here on the wrong side of the border.

Master Chief Hayes, his "Boss" now, scanned the situation surrounding them, and as his vision began to fully acclimate, could see the intense, focused look on the man's face. What had he said to him, just hours ago up on the side of the mountain? "No distractions. The margin of error is zero."

Hayes had given him much to think about while holed up together…even if it meant he now owed him a bottle of Tequila. Lesson learned – Boss was always right.

"A few more minutes" Boss murmured; and he along with the rest of the team nodded in affirmation.

In that moment, Mrs. Zimov gasped in a painful breath and instinctively he knelt down beside the litter to grab hold of her hand. She squeezed tight and he could tell that she was an incredibly strong woman; her grip firm and unwavering. She didn't make another sound, and he smiled – hoping to reassure her and wondered if she could even see him, cloaked as they were in darkness.

But she held on, and when the moment passed – she let go and pet his arm.

Standing swiftly to his feet, Clay came face to face with Hayes and was met with a curiously bemused expression that had his heart drop down to weigh heavy in his stomach. Internally, he admonished himself. He needed to stay focused; stay on alert…be vigilant.

This could all go sideways in the blink of an eye. What was he thinking?

So, he set his face in stone, put Mrs. Zimov – her pain, and how she reminded him of his own mother's strength and courage aside; tamped down on his anxiety and waited for orders.

Biting his lower lip, he reminded himself that even though he had plenty of experience under his belt, this was his first, no second operation as a DEVGRU and he could not disappoint. Hayes had taken a chance choosing him over the top five. He had given him this opportunity and plucked him from the bottom of the list; over those who were probably more suited.

He needed to stay on point.

Clay blinked again, and this time his vision was clear. Two hundred and fifty feet. Sixty seconds at a dead run to the border. Hayes seemed confident. Bravo Team seemed confident. It could be done. Their plan was a risky one and he wasn't so sure about it, but Clay could hear Hayes's voice reminding him as they waited on that mountain side for the sun to go down, "You're not on Green Team anymore."

No, he wasn't on Green Team anymore. He was here with Bravo. A lifetime of hard work; commitment – his dreams come true. He wouldn't let them down.

Things began to move swiftly then. Boss gripped his shoulder; gestured to the litter and pushed him down toward the ground. His orders clear. He was to help carry Mrs. Zimov to the border. Brock, Trent and an Alpha Team member took positions at the other three points of the litter as well.

Blood rushing loudly through his ears, he watched as Boss pointed at Sonny, then Ray – gesturing silently in sign language for them and the rest of Alpha Team to take up defensive positions. Expertly they drifted forward and disappeared from view like ghosts.

Nerves fluttering in his stomach; palms wet from tightly gripping the shaft….Clay was surprised when the Boss knelt down beside him; looked him dead in the eyes; then stabbed his finger forcefully into his vest. He frowned with consternation. What was this about? Some message; some meaning beyond this moment in time was being imparted – but he didn't understand. Frowning, he tried to think. What was the Boss trying to tell him?

"Stay on my heels" Boss ordered; his manner of concern emphasizing more than his spoken words. And before he could acknowledge with an affirmative, the count down into his com began – Boss' voice; soft and firm…. "Three, two, one….execute."

Once the command was given, the world around them exploded into bright, unnatural light; deafening noise and blistering explosions. The ground rumbled beneath his knees, briefly tilting him sideways.

"Go, go, go!" Hayes yelled over the cacophony; and Clay stood in sync with the others – lifting the litter and racing for the border – running step for step in Boss' wake, determined to keep up. He could do this. This is what he trained for. Sixty seconds…sixty seconds.

He never registered the weight of their burden; only that the ground was rocky and uneven – the shifting sand, making it hard to take purchase. The continuous flashes of light which no doubt played havoc with the Russian Special Forces surrounding them; also disturbed his vision as well. Boss' shadow in front of him, careened in and out of focus as grenade flashes lit up the sky.

Stumbling, but moving quickly he could hear Brock at his back chanting, "Almost there. Almost there." With Cerberus running unhindered alongside them.

Out of nowhere, his foot dropped down into a crevice then twisted to the side – sending a flare of pain through his ankle. Grimacing, he pulled his foot free and heard Mrs. Zimov take in a sharp breath at the sudden imbalance. Up ahead, Boss was moving forward – and the litter was moving on without him; his hand still attached to the shaft…pulling him onward; yanking at his shoulder.

He needed to keep up.

Gathering himself; pushing himself on – he kept moving. Brock's mantra of "almost there", was a steady; calming beat – keeping him on his feet. Adrenaline kicked in and he felt no pain. Only a sense of urgency, as Boss turned back to look for them as he continued to throw one thermal grenade after another.

When they reached the border, it took a moment for him to register that the mad dash was over. Fresh hands relieved Mrs. Zimov from their care and placed her in the nearest transport – her husband rushing behind to follow.

As the last of the noise and light faded to be replaced by an eerie silence – Sonny screamed out in victory, "Wolverines!" – his voice raw and hoarse, bouncing from tree to tree then out into open space. Clay collapsed to the ground, panting with exertion along with his fellow litter bearers. Boss tapped his helmet and he could see relief there as he moved on to check on the others; urging everyone to, "Let's move out."

The ride to the exfil site was quiet…conversation at a minimum. Though everything had not gone according to plan, the mission was a success and Clay could sense the bottled up elation contained inside the transport.

No words were spoken, but everyone was ecstatic; breathing hard – eyes bright; relief a common feeling among the team. Only, he couldn't join in with that sense of elation.

Afraid to move, Clay sat as still as possible, looking down at his feet – holding his weapon tight to his chest. His ankle throbbed in agony as the vehicle bounced a long – hitting every rut on the dirt road.

Thinking over his performance, he found himself lacking. On his first OP, he had been distracted; stumbled – almost caused things to go terribly wrong. What if he had dropped his end of the litter; held up the pace – was unable to pull his weight?

Is that what Hayes' silent message meant? That it wasn't he who belonged here. If that was the case, then yes, he agreed. It should be Brian. He deserved this. He would have been focused; would not have allowed his personal feelings to distract him or lost his footing and put everyone at risk.

Rubbing his eyes to rid him of the image of his fallen friend, he wiggled his toes and could feel that his ankle was blown up like a balloon in his boot. The stabbing pain was almost unbearable. He could tell it was sprained and moaned out loud before he could stop himself.

"How's your ankle there?" Boss asked his voice cutting through the silence.

Clay groaned again inwardly and looked around the transport to see that all eyes were on him, waiting for his response.

"All good Boss" he chimed out, hoping no one could sense the tension in his voice.

"All good." Boss repeated.

Nodding, Clay reiterated, "Yes Boss", and turned away from the man's scrutiny, only to see Sonny chuckle under his breath with a smirk on his face; and Ray raise an eye brow in disbelief…the others on the verge of snickering. Cerberus barked once and cocked her head to the side.

Clay studied their faces and sighed deeply, resigned to it all. So, puffing himself up, he plastered one of his most enigmatic smiles on his face and fessed up. "Twisted my ankle Boss." , he announced loud and clear for everyone's benefit. "But it's okay." And lifted his foot for all to see – rotating his ankle in tight circles for emphasis; while beneath his gear, broke out in a pain filled sweat.

"First time the newbie hides an injury from the team" Sonny sang out from the back of the transport, "I say…"

"That's a case of beer!" the team answered back in unison and laughed; their pent up emotions letting loose – breaking out in good humor.

Beneath his helmet, Clay's cheeks burned a bright, crimson red.

The truck came to a stop and everyone piled off – still in good spirits, at his expense.

Alone now, Clay sat wondering about his options. He could lower himself to the floor from the bench seat and scoot his way to the exit. Or, he could slide to the end of the bench, then hop down – hoping the sprain didn't then turn into something more serious. Or, he could…..

"Let me help you down from there." Ray said, interrupting his list – reaching up to take his weight.

Clay studied Ray Perry carefully and considered this option – accepting help from someone. Even if this option was way down on his list, he grudgingly decided this was the way to go. So, swallowing his pride he clasped onto Ray's hand and let him lower him to the ground. "Thanks man.", he offered and grimaced when his foot touched the ground.

The pressure of his swollen ankle was getting worse by the second. The skin felt tight and he could just imagine the hell it was going to be to get his boot off.

Looking toward the C-17, he wondered just how he would ever make it up the ramp. He could barely place any weight on the ankle and even with Ray's help, the trip seemed more daunting than the sixty seconds it took to get the Zimov's across the border.

Then suddenly down the ramp, moving fast toward him was Boss – pushing an empty wheelchair with a crooked grin on his face. Stopping before him, he made a gesture for him to be seated and eyed him closely – as if waiting for resistance. "Get in kid. Take a seat before you fall down." Boss' tone brooked no opposition.

"I believe, that's an order.", Ray laughed and stepped aside, shaking his head at the two most stubborn people he knew.

Clay reluctantly took a seat, hiding his face as embarrassment took up permanent residence. He would never live this down. Not only was his first OP a disaster, but now here was the Boss pushing him around like a baby.

And as they made their way up the ramp – Hayes leaned over from behind; and uttered softly – "Welcome to DEVGRU kid; and don't forget, you owe me a bottle of Tequila – Blanco."

Thank you for reading! Please leave a review to let me know what you think. This is just something I would have liked to have seen during episode nine, 'Rolling Dark'. I hope you like it.

Also – thank you to everyone who read and reviewed Part I and Part II of 'Stand Up'. Your thoughts and comments keep me going!