Okay, the guy I usually 'whump' on, is not my strong point when it comes to POV, so there isn't a lot of whumping Clay this time….

My usual disclaimers - medical blah-blah, military lingo eh...

And I tried – really, tried – to keep the continuity with 'I will follow him'. I've never done a prequel before, so if something is obvious that I trod all over, let me know!

"Brock." Jason straddled the chair at the cafeteria table opposite his team member who sat nursing a coffee, bowl of half eaten oatmeal pushed aside. "How you feeling?"

"Hey boss." Brock replied, eyes hooded, he hadn't gotten much sleep last night. Dog bites were painful, and his arm was wrapped from elbow to wrist. "Doc gave me Demerol."

"Did you take any?"

Silence.

"You can you know."

"I will, it gets where I can't handle it." He was trying to get by taking ibuprofen. Clay had told him to take the liquid gel-caps and those actually helped more than the generic tablets did.

Jason nodded. "Cerb's fine. Vet said so."

Brock cracked a grin. "He's never lost a fight."

"He's the reason that dog didn't tear your arm open to the bone."

Brock nodded. "Could have been worse." He agreed. "Least it's my left arm, swelling will go down today, I'll be fine. No rabies."

"What were you thinking? Breaking up a dog fight with your hands?"

Brock raised one eyebrow, Jason grinned, letting it go.

Because this was Brock and not Clay, who never responded to injury or illness or medication the way a person was expected to, Jason had nothing to worry about. Had Clay been the one bitten breaking up a dog fight, pfft, he would have had a reaction to the mutt's saliva, the dog would have been a stray not found again so he would had to have the preventive rabies treatment,would have thrown an allergic reaction to that and then spaced out on whatever meds the doc had given him.

Jason shook his head to shake off the thoughts. No good came of obsessing over his rookie. "Stay in quarters, get some rest, take the Demerol."

"That an order?"

Jason thought about it. "It is." He reached for Brock's untouched cup of fruit, eating the chunks of melon first. "Chopper lifts off at dusk, two hour flight will land us in darkness, no moon tonight."

Demerol would dull any discomfort Brock felt in his arm, but wouldn't muddle his head or dull his reaction time. It was just strong enough to relieve pain, yet weak enough, a determined Seal could fight off its most common side effect, drowsiness, and function normally. Well, unless that Seal was Clay – snark. So yeah, if that was what the doc had given him to relieve pain from the dog bite on his arm, Jason had no qualms taking him on the night raid to hopefully capture one of the men on Mandy's personal most wanted list.

Brock hesitated, watching Jason select his next choice of fruit – blueberries. "We landing?" He knew the choice to go or remain behind was his. Knew his boss expected him to be honest and not put the mission, himself or his teammates in danger by not being 100 percent. Knew if he chose to remain behind, it wouldn't be held against him.

"Yeah, wouldn't ask you to repel out." Jason next chose the strawberries. "It comes to that, you remain on the chopper." He knew Brock would and could repel out of a hovering chopper if the reason to do so was urgent enough, but why risk maybe permanent damage to tendons or ligaments, or at least surgery for a routine raid? "You should eat, helps with the effects of pain meds."

"Mmm." Brock waved a hand over the pushed-aside bowl. "Second bowl." He pointed to a paper plate that held a huge sticky, cinnamon roll with icing. "That's next."

Jason snorted, finishing the chunks of green apple, his least favorite because green apples were sour, he preferred red ones. "Gonna hafta run up hill both ways to burn off that baby."

Brock nodded, he'd gotten up late, hadn't joined the team for morning runs. Had decided to eat first and take the pain meds, which he hadn't yet taken, and why he'd opted for oatmeal.

"But not today." Jason ate the mandarin oranges and got up. "Take it easy, keep an eye on Spenser."

"What'd he do?" Brock joked. "This time." He matched Jason's grin. "Again." He smacked Jason's hand when he reached to scoop icing off the bun with his finger. "Ever notice how often we say 'again' these days?"

"His ears haven't popped yet." Jason stood up. "He's out running with Ray, but he's on light duty today, told him to clean weapons and stock ammo with Davis. Dunno what he's coming down with."

Stay in quarters was Jason's way of telling him to remain in the secured area where Seals ruled and from where outside press and various personal were restricted. Confined to barracks meant, don't leave the cabin where you slept.

"Davis taking any better to babysitting?" Brock asked, his fruit all gone, he pulled the cinnamon bun close. "Good thing she likes the kid."

"She growls at me, hasn't bared teeth yet." Jason patted Brock's shoulder. "That icing is sweet. See you at supper."

()

Morning runs over, Clay showered and went off on his own for breakfast. It wasn't that he didn't like hanging with members of Bravo, both from the elite six and the fifteen members of Bravo support, but sometimes, he just liked to be alone. He'd never admit it, not to anyone, maybe Brian, and that wasn't going to happen, but being the rookie on an elite Seal 6 team, sometimes…..sucked.

He wondered how it was on other teams, but Bravo didn't interact much with them, so Clay really didn't get a chance to ask anyone. And there was no one else to ask, he didn't know anyone who had been a member of Bravo, didn't even know if Bravo had ever had a rookie before. There'd been Nate, younger than the rest of the team, but older than Clay, and Clay didn't think he'd been a rookie when he'd joined Bravo, and the rest of the team had been together for, well, years. So yeah…..

He felt smothered.

He'd wanted Bravo all along – who on Green hadn't? – but hadn't gotten his hopes up, because everyone had predicted Hayes wouldn't select someone so young. So sure of that had some of the trainers on Green Team been, bets had been placed. It was well known the five on Bravo elite were tight, so tight no one broke into the circle that was Hayes and his guys.

The Alive Five: The nickname given to Bravo elite by trainers on Green team and various personnel on base.

Nate had been close to Jason, so, by his close friendship with the chief, had been close to Ray as well. But rumors had it –oh yeah, men gossiped – Sonny and Brock hadn't been all that friendly off base with the man and Trent and Eric hadn't been known to be warm to him at all.

So, hell yeah, he'd been excited when, he'd been chosen out of everyone by Hayes, and after some mishaps and misunderstandings, eventually accepted by the entire team. Sure, they liked to tease him, pull pranks, play jokes, and somehow, there was some running gag that included Ellis, Blackburn and Davis, but not him. Maybe it was because it was about him. Eh, someday, he'd find out what it was. Whatever.

But still, he felt…stifled.

Seal teams didn't always stay together. Guys got married, transferred out, got injured, mentally checked-out, personalities clashed, death…..all kinds of reasons but Bravo, well these five had been together for years…guys all over base said the reason why they were all so close was because they were also close in their personal lives…..they all lived near one another, hung out together, their wives were close, their kids were either friends or babysat the others…..hell, they even vacationed together.

Jason was friendly with the guys on Alpha and Echo….heck, Derek from Alpha lived across the hall from him and was always inviting him and Stella over for dinner or movie and popcorn or out for drinks. Popped over whenever, just 'cause. And now that Clay gave it some thought, someone from Bravo often visited Derek, like daily…..hmmmmmm.

Smothered and stifled.

"Spenser."

Clay looked up, setting the pepper shaker down, keeping his annoyance off his face and his impatient sigh checked.

"Commander." He greeted Eric. He looked at his watch. No, he wasn't late, still had 45 minutes before he had to report to 'work'. "What can I do for you?"

Smothered, stifled and stalked.

"Jason told me he has you working ammo with Davis today."

Clay shrugged. Sniffle a couple times, sneeze a time or two and suddenly, you're 'grounded'.

"Mandy wants to talk to a wife in the next village, thought I'd send you and Brock as an escort."

Aah, translation…Mandy wanted him because he could translate and she wouldn't have to depend on an interpreter. He didn't blame her, couldn't always trust them, but he was getting mighty sick and tired of never being asked. Interpreting wasn't part of his job and yet everyone just expected him to be happy to do it, whenever, wherever, for whoever.

Brock was being sent along to keep any eye on him. Poor guy. He was supposed to be resting, taking it easy and here he was being sent to babysit Clay. Geesch, get taken hostage, kidnapped – call it whatever, lost a time or two, fall down a bank, land in cold water, throw a mild reaction to an inoculation, get adopted as a 'pet' to a harem and no one wanted to let you out of their sight.

"It's okay to say she wants to use me." Clay joked without humor, finishing his milk. "I'll get a coffee to go." If Eric was sending him, he didn't have the option not to go.

"Finish your breakfast, meet up in 30."

Thirty? Technically, he still had roughly 45 minutes of his own time. How was that fair? She wanted him, she should leave when it was time for him to report to 'work'. "Do we need to gear up?"

"Nope." Eric was already walking away.

***000***

Brock joined him at the van before Mandy arrived.

"Just us?" Brock looked around, he expected at least a driver.

"Where's Cerberus?"

"Daylight." Brock reached with his left hand to open the van's door, winced and pulled his hand back. "Better he stay inside in this heat."

"You good?"

"Yeah, this will only take a couple hours. I can take a nap this afternoon." Brock again looked around for a driver, saw no one. "Guess we're driving."

"I will, you ride in the back with Ellis."

Clay had yet to decide if he would or had warmed up to their CIA liaison, Mandy Ellis. Again, she was someone who was tight with Jason. Sure, sure, Clay understood the need to fight the 'war on terrorism'. Hell, it was his job and he did it without complaint, after all, it was the job he'd always wanted and worked his ass off to get. He didn't expect warm smiles and hearty hugs after every mission, but she couldn't crack a grin and say thank you every once in a while? Blackburn did, Davis did, Bravo support did…..

"Guys ready?" she was opening the back door. "Let's roll."

"No driver?" Brock asked.

Mandy shook her head. "Less notice we attract, the better." She slanted a look Clay's way. "I'm okay," she wore a hijab, "You won't draw too much attention, just your jeans, but those blonde curls….." she shook her head.

Clay wrinkled his nose at her, turning away before she caught his expression.

What really pissed him off? She never even asked for his help, always sent Eric or Jason. The fact he spoke Arabic was not among the job qualifications to become one of the elite six on a Navy Seal Team. It was in addition to and one he could thank his dad for. His old man hadn't done that much for him while growing up, but insisting he learn the language if he was determined to become a Seal was one thing Clay actually thanked him for.

He made her wait, because he could. Brock was already in the back seat, discussing how his arm felt, how the dog was. It was obvious no one else was coming, so Clay finally got behind the wheel, started the engine and sat.

"Let's go." Mandy ordered. "What are you waiting for?"

And he sniped right back at her, matching her tone. "I don't know where we're going."

She mashed her lips together, stared out the window, finally gave him directions. Brock sighed, shaking his head. He wasn't about to get involved. Sick, hurt or medicated, Clay was all emotion and affection with everyone – even if he didn't know or remember it. Mandy was aloof and distant because as soon as she became attached, started to care, someone died.

()

The drive was maybe twenty minutes. Not so much because of distance, but because Clay's top speed was thirty. He saw no need to hurry, couldn't anyway, traffic was heavy, animals pulled carts and wagons, children ran without heed into the road and believe it or not, women wearing heavy robes and skirts, pedaled bikes.

They finally pulled up in front of the building that was Mandy's destination and Clay shifted into park, letting the engine idle. It looked to be an apartment building, but until they got inside, that was a guess.

"Are you parking here?" Mandy asked, not moving to get out. "You shouldn't."

"Closer to the door, you won't have as far to walk, safer." Clay replied. If she wanted him to escort her inside and interpret for her with the wife, she was damn well going to have to ask him.

Brock sighed, cocky, arrogant little prick. They – the team – were steadily kicking those traits out of him, but it was a work in progress.

Mandy fumed. Drat the man!

"Would you please park and escort me inside? I would like you to interpret for me." She got out through clenched teeth.

"We'll wait for you right here on the sidewalk." Brock opened the door and got out. He walked around the back of the truck and opened Mandy's door. "Don't dawdle." He told Clay. "Parking lot's right over there, stay in my sight."

"No need to fuss." Clay scowled. "Won't leave you here."

"I lose you, Jason will kill me." Brock grinned.

"For Pete's sake," Clay huffed. "Not gonna get lost crossing the street."

"Not what I meant." Brock said seriously, humor ebbing. "I mean it, I blink and you're gone and I have to hunt you down, you ain't gonna like what I'll do to you."

"With one arm?" Clay snorted.

"Guys!" Mandy called impatiently.

"Didn't say when or what." Brock smiled again. "Or with who."

Clay shifted into drive, took his weight off the brake and pulled out.

"It'll be cooler inside." Mandy told him when Brock joined her on the sidewalk.

Brock shook his head. "Not taking my eyes off him." He waved her on. "Go on, we'll join you in a minute."

"He'll be okay, you know."

"We always think that." Brock raised a hand to shield his eyes against the sun, eyes on the truck. "This time, he disappears and I gotta tell Jason I lost him, I'm damn well gonna know what happened."

"Do you guys get tired of that? Worrying about him? Not what you expected when he joined the team."

Brock looked down at her, choosing his words carefully. "Jason's at his best when he has someone to look after, worry about. That kid is ours, he's proven himself to this team and no one's attitude is going to make us give him up." A mild warning, one she didn't miss. "We had a meeting, took a vote." He joked. "Our decision's made."

"Any dissents?" If there had been any, she knew he wouldn't say who. She also knew he wouldn't lie to her. So, if the team had been divided and majority won, he'd admit it.

"Nope." He beamed proudly. They hadn't even had to convince Trent…..once Clay had found that Trent was the teams uncertified but capable medic, he was just as content as the others to let him unofficially assume and perform those duties. Unlike Nate, Clay had faith in Trent and trusted him completely.

Mandy hesitated, watching Clay get out of the truck and wait at the corner for traffic to pass. "How would you handle losing another so soon after Nate?"

"You mean, if Spenser got himself killed?" Brock shrugged. "Can't live like that Mandy, it would hurt like hell, but we'd go on, just like we did when we lost Nate." Both he and Clay had 9mms in the waist of their jeans, and though Brock didn't have an itchy finger, he couldn't help but ease a hand around to reassure himself the gun still nestled safety in the small of his back.

"Bit of honesty between us?" She asked. Brock nodded. "Nate wasn't a bad guy, but he did a lot on his own, a lot apart from you guys, I never liked that." Traffic passed between them and Clay still waited on the strip of dirt between directional traffic. He waved, flipping the bird at Brock. "He, uh…I dunno, I just couldn't warm up to him very much." She paused, quiet while Clay waited for the opportunity to join them. "You don't see that in Clay? I do."

"Nate kept to himself, never sought advice or counsel or company from anyone other than Jason. Maybe Ray." Brock shrugged. "Yeah, it bothered us…..but he had our backs where and when it mattered; in combat, in a fight, saved our asses more than once, so no complaints." Brock waved at Clay, flipping the bird back. "Clay is a lot younger than we are, he's finding his footing….we're married, have families, he's just starting his first serious relationship, kid needs time.

"It hurt Brock." She said quietly. "Sending you on a mission you all didn't come back from. Nate's the first I lost. Whether we were close or not, sleeping at night is hard. Getting Jason through that was hard. He loses Clay….then what?" She sighed, shook off the melancholy thoughts. "Is Clay going to let you guys close?"

Brock snorted, Clay already had, even if he didn't know it. "That kid? You need to be around when he's hurt or sick, all that kid wants is to be with someone he knows and trusts. He doesn't let us out of his sight. You see that, you wouldn't worry." Brock shook his head, shrugged, gave her a grin. "Thing is, he never remembers any of it and has no idea why we're all so amused. Guess someone will tell him someday." his smiled faded. He knew why no one had yet. No one wanted the kid to change, to be embarrassed by his actions and distance himself from them.

"And you guys don't mind?"

"Mind having someone trust you so much, they take comfort and feel safe just because they can see your face? Know you're with them and everything's gonna be okay?" he opened the door to the building as Clay finally stepped off the curb and started across a lane on his way to join them. "Gives us something to focus on, work with, distract us from missing family, being away from home…..Ray and the baby, Jason and the divorce, Sonny and his relationship issues."

"You guys rely pretty heavily on Trent to keep Clay on his feet, he doesn't mind?"

"Mind what, being the kid's personal medic? Hell, no." Brock laughed. "One night, we…."

The door was yanked out of his hand and a fist to his jaw rocked him back on his heels. His arms pin-wheeled, but thrown off balance by the bandage on his left, he stumbled backwards, landed hard on his ass. Before Mandy could react, she was grabbed from behind, her arms pinned to her sides, lifted off her feet and a black hood was over her head. A hand covered her mouth, muffling her attempts to scream. Then somehow, everyone was inside and the door closed behind them.

Still on the other side of yet another street, Clay saw Brock go down, get up and bolt through the door. He didn't need to see any more. Breaking into a run, he jumped a cart, slid across the hood of a car, vaulted over a donkey, said a brief prayer donkeys were not the height of a horse, and skidded around a three-wheeled truck, sliding to his knees when he misjudged the distance clearing the bumper. His stumble didn't slow him down one bit; he hit the sidewalk at a run, pushing pedestrians out of his way, a woman off a bike.

Leaping over a ditch, he avoided the front door and ran down the side alley. With a running, agile jump, he easily gripped the fire escape, swung on his hands several times to gain enough momentum he could swing his feet up, then was up and over, vaulting his weight forward to land on his knees. Using the handrails as support because the fire escape shimmied under his weight, he took the rickety steps three at time until he came to a window that led into the stairwell.

Using an elbow, he smashed the window and ignoring the jagged glass, dove head first through the broken pane, tucking and rolling, somersaulting to his feet and rushing down the steps until he came to the landing where he could see the lobby. From there, he launched over the railing, falling forward in a dive to the first floor, landing with a thud on one of the two men engaged in a fist fight with Brock.

Together they hit the floor; Clay's landing cushioned by the body beneath him. Hooking an arm around the man's throat, Clay pulled the 9mm from the small of his back before rolling with the man on top of him, to his back. One shot, and the man fighting with Brock had a third eye between the two on his face.

Brock rolled free, scrambled to his feet and ran for the back door in pursuit of Mandy.

The man locked in his arms had been stunned both by the fall and the weight falling on him but he began to stir, fighting sluggishly against Clay's hold.

Clay weighed his options: smother, strangle, choke, break his neck.

Jason would want at least one of the men who had attempted to take Mandy alive, so he took the extra seconds needed to render the man simply unconscious by cutting off his air supply, then quickly secured his hands behind his back, frisked him for weapons, and finding none, used the black cloth bag the captor carried to cover his head. If he smothered, eh, Jason would just have to get over it.

Pushing up, he came out of his crouch and ran after Brock through the back door, bursting out onto the docks amidst a throng of people.

"Shit." Clay pulled up short. Brock played tug-of-war with the third captor for possession of Mandy. With Mandy between them, Brock couldn't get at the man and if he were to let go, the captor could easily escape into the crowds with her in tow. No doubt the destination was a boat.

He had two options; run and tackle, hope Brock didn't lose his hold or footing, hope no one got in his way before he could land on the captor, or take aim and shoot.

"GET DOWN!" Clay yelled. He took a stance and holding steady, raised his arm.

Training and instinct prompted Brock's instant reaction to the command. He threw himself backwards, pulling Mandy's weight with him. He hit the pavement on his back, Mandy stumbling, hunched over towards him, the pull on her other arm strong and resisting letting her weight fall Brock's way.

The hood had fallen from her head and she ducked her head as best she could, but still, she swore she felt the air from the bullet as it passed her cheek….it was that close to her head. Next thing she knew, the weight on her other arm was gone and she was released. Unable to regain her balance, she landed in an ungainly sprawl on top of Brock.

"You okay?" Brock was on his ass, holding her steady. "Come on, get up, we can't stay here." He wished he could give her a minute to catch her breath, nod her head, get a grip but they didn't have the time.

Clay was there, picking Mandy up and setting her on her feet. He held her arm with one hand, holding the other out to give Brock a hand to his feet.

"You think like Jason." Brock dusted off his butt. "Don't come through the front door like a normal dude, nope, you have to dive off a stairwell from two flights up." He spoke even as they grouped and ducked, prepared to move out attracting as little notice as possible.

"Move." Clay urged. "This way, left one alive in the lobby. Gotta get out of here before authorities get here."

"Hold his hand." Brock ordered Mandy. "Do not let go, we can't lose him now." He held her other hand and led the way. Once back inside, Brock left Mandy with Clay and went to retrieve the truck. Wouldn't do to escort a bound man with a black hood over his head across the street! "I'm driving." Brock held his hand out for the keys.

Clay had kept up with the pace Brock set, but by the time they were back inside, he'd pulled up with a limp, couldn't keep the grimace from his face as he dug in the front pocket of his jeans for the keys.

"Find her a towel or something." Brock said before leaving. "Don't let him out of your sight." He told Mandy, pointing at Clay.

"I'm okay." Mandy was bouncing back.

"Yeah, I think he means, you should, uh, clean up a bit." Clay reached to pull the hijab from her head. "Kinda got some, uh, blood on you." He folded the head scarf to a clean spot and helped her wipe her cheek and forehead. "Sorry about that. It was him or Brock."

Mandy nodded. Not you and Brock, just Brock.

"Thank you," She tucked her hair behind her ear. "From what? 9mm's don't splay…." She shuddered. Hell, maybe they did when you shot through a head. Also depended on what kind of ammo the gun was loaded with.

He chucked her chin with a grin. "Ready?" He pulled their captive to his feet and shoved him out the door.

He was not gentle.