So ends another one!
Until next inspiration! Hope you all enjoyed it.
I'm enjoying Season Two, it's off to a great start, here's looking at you Mexico.

Eric recalled the curious looks, side glances and outright stares he and the team had received as they'd trailed through the hospital hallways on their way to a waiting room. Eyes lingered as they passed, yeah, he could see where he and his men were intimidating.

They appeared larger than they actually were with all their gear and equipment on. They were dirty, soiled, smoky and smelly. People didn't usually ever see a Seal Team in full tactical gear sitting still or even indoors. Seals appeared and melted away in the blink of an eye, usually in the dark - because officially, they were never there.

Eric was relieved there were no other people in the waiting room, wondered if it were intentional on behalf of the hospital staff. Whatever, he was grateful they were alone because when Lisa sailed into the room, demanding answers, she wasn't alone. McCall and two other men of high rank followed Mandy into the room. Oh shit, here we go.

"Chief Hayes," McCall began. "This is…."

"Get out!" Jason growled, the table between him and the three men. "I don't want you here."

Eric really wished McCall would have called him before coming to the hospital. He would have told him to stay away. Emotions were too volatile, the knowledge that Bravo had found Clay with Brock still too raw to process or accept.

"Hayes," McCall tried again.

"You had no right!" Jason shouted, pointed at him. "No right to send him on that rescue mission! None. He safe at home! We left him there for a reason!"

"It wasn't my call."

"Make it your call!"

"I can't do that!"

"You didn't have the balls to even tell us!"

"By the time I knew…!" McCall paused, sighed. "I sent you out there, didn't I? Let you look for them?"

"And now we know why!" Jason's fist banged on the table, "Who sent him? Tell me, 'cause trust me, heads are gonna roll."

"That is not the way to handle this." McCall looked to Eric for help, got none. "Proper channels Hayes."

"Yeah, and look where that got us."

"The proper procedures..." began one of the men.

"Didn't work." Jason spat. "Who found Brock? Huh? Who? Your crack Marine unit?"

"They would have, yes. They were close to..."

"Before or after someone died?" Jason was livid. "If you're not going to tell me what Marine unit he was sent with, get out the hell outta my sight. I don't want to see you anymore."

"HEY! Someone talk to me!" Lisa demanded, swallowed hard. "Is he in surgery? Is that it? It's that bad?"

"Davis." Sonny began. Trent pulled out a chair from the table as Jason and McCall exploded into a bang-your-fist-on-the-table shouting match.

"He's not…you got there in time….right? Athan said…."

"Just what did Athan say?" Eric asked.

"That you were en route to the hospital via truck." Mandy answered.

"That's all he said?"

"Davis." Sonny got up, took her hand, pushed her into the chair. Trent put his hands on her shoulders and Sonny squatted in front of her. She squirmed, looking at Eric. "Lisa." Sonny took her hand, caressed her knuckles with his thumb. "Hey, look at me."

Lisa? He never called her Lisa unless the news was bad. Very bad.

"You found him? Is he okay? How bad? Where is he? Has the doctor come out yet? Is our doc with him? He is, right? Can I see him?" She was babbling, she knew it, couldn't stop doing it. Yes, babbling was uncharacteristic of her but never in her life, had she been thrown so far and so wide off her game…..Sonny had called her Lisa.

Eric frowned. Him? He?

"Lisa, listen to me." Sonny said gently. "Hey, chin up girl, Brock's okay. Breathed in some smoke, he's doesn't feel to good, but he's okay."

"Why would you scare me like that? Not funny guys." She took several deep breaths. "He wasn't hurt? They didn't hurt him?"

"They didn't have to." Sonny squeezed her fingers. "Lisa, he wasn't…" He swallowed hard, tried again. "Davis."

Everyone jumped when a chair hit the wall. Lisa frowned, what would upset Jason so, he'd risk being arrested by arguing with a superior in front of top brass? Her jaw dropped, no, he was arguing with the top brass!

Trent sighed. "Brock wasn't alone Davis," he said steadily. "The Marine unit from Quantico sent to find him," he paused, "brought Clay with them."

Silence. Lisa started to raise a hand, but it was shaking, so she sat on it. "No."

Sonny shot Trent a dirty look. "Don't sugarcoat it."

"Our Clay?" She looked around the room. "Clay's here in Syria? He was taken? When? How? Why?" That explained an out-of-control Jason. "Is he...is he okay?"

"They used Clay to force Brock to do what they wanted." Eric said. "He's with the doctors now."

Lisa sat for a moment, then pushed to her feet, stomped to the table, sat down. "Everyone. Sit. Down. Start talking. Then we're gonna find these Marines, 'cause we've got some ass to kick."

"They're going down." Sonny promised, that was his girl.

"How's Brock?" Lisa tapped her fingers on the table. "He can't be taking this well."

"He's trained." One of the men spoke up. "Not to buckle under to the threat of injury to a civilian or a fellow military member."

"Ain't easy to do." Jason said, he hadn't obeyed Lisa but McCall and the men with him had. He pivoted, stalked, turned. "You've never watched someone you know go through…..." he pushed his hands through his hair. "It's different when it's someone you know."

"It's fucking hard." Sonny added. "You CIA people only employ certain measures of torture…..these animals over here hate us for being American."

"And if we find out Brock cooperated?" Mandy asked.

"Tread real careful there, Ms. Ellis." Sonny said softly. "There are times I'd thrash that kid myself, many a time I want to smack his mouth and knock him on his ass, but this is Clay. It's personal."

Jason was pacing – back and forth, back and forth – short distances. "The hell Mandy? What would you have him do? It's one of us." His hands fisted, released, fisted. "Brock had to sit there, watch, while they…..."

Sonny got up. "Sure, Mr. Kidnapper, whatever you want, he's too pretty to hurt."

"Brock's going to need counseling." Ray said quietly. "He's going to take this hard, no way he can't."

"I'll hold his hand," Sonny growled.

"Could have been worse." Trent unintentionally quoted Ray's favorite expression. Everyone turned to stare at him, went silent. He put a hand up. "Don't go jumping all over me. Brock will get through this; the guilt, the second guessing, going with them willingly so Sonny saw the next dawn, I get it. I do." He paused. "And to sit there and see it, watch Clay, of all fucking people, go through it, hadda be hell." He shrugged, held his arms out. "But Clay was lucky."

"Your fucking wife has to go." Sonny flipped him off. "Stop listening to her."

"What?" Mandy asked.

"Clay can handle pain." Trent sighed. "Beating him, pulling his finger nails off, breaking his toes was nothing compared to what they could have done." He continued. "Torture Mandy, comes in many levels and methods. You know that. You've seen it, ordered it done. They could have taken ears, eyes, teeth. Burned him with rods, threw acid in his face, poured boiling water on hm, electrocuted him, shocked him. Cut his fingers off with wire. Shot, cut, stabbed, punctured him. Didn't gave to be lethal. Bruises fade, broken toes heal, but whips and lashes break skin, leave scars. Did you want him water-boarded? Choked? Suffocated? Smothered? Bones broken that would never heal right?"

"Enough." Lisa covered her ears. She wasn't normally wishy-washy and she knew all about torture techniques. American's weren't innocent of it either. But Clay and Brock, the rest of Bravo were her guys.

"They have ways of torture we don't even know about." Ray added.

"Or want to think about." Eric said.

"Quickest way to break Brock and gain his cooperation was to hurt Clay." Ray nodded. "No one wants to know how far they would have gone to gain it either. We don't even know what they wanted from him."

"Even so, had to kill him to watch Clay go through it," Eric said. "No easy way back from this for either of them."

Trent nodded. "We done here?" He stood up.

Eric looked surprised. "You got somewhere to be?"

"No, something to do." Trent had a hand on the doorknob.

Eric slid a gaze Jason's direction. What had he and Trent discussed? And when?

"Eh," He cleared his throat. "We land at home, he's going to the hospital." He paused, nodded. "But you know that. Of course you do."

"Stella will fight you." Mandy said. "She'll want to take Clay home." Jason shot daggers at her.

Eric waved Trent out. "Go then. Wash up." He turned to Jason as Ray followed Trent from the room. Lisa went with them. After a moment, a quiet word with Eric, McCall and the other men left as well. "Is Katie going to be able to handle Brock on her own?"

"She won't have to." Sonny replied. "He's got us, I'll stay with them."

"Katie's strong, she'll be okay." Mandy looked at Jason. "Um, Jay, hey."

"No."

"Hear me out."

"No."

"Clay's going to want her."

"Don't care."

"She's going to want to take care of him."

"Not gonna happen."

"Jason, come on." Mandy tried but Jason was shaking his head. "He's going to need someone."

"She disobeyed me."

"But he didn't." Mandy said.

Jason's head came up, a look of disbelief on his face. "The fuck Mandy. Yeah, okay, last time he was with it enough to call Trent. What about now? His toes are broken. He'll struggle with crutches because of his arm. His right leg is swollen and bruised from his toes to his crotch. He's gonna be on pain meds for days, will need ice 24/7. What happens when she leaves him alone again and he isn't with it enough to call us?"

"She learned her lesson." Mandy argued. "She won't do that again."

"I don't believe it."

"Give her a chance to prove it." Mandy suggested.

"She should have answered her fucking phone when I called." Jason snarled.

Before she could respond, the door opened and the team doc entered. He waved them all into a seat, sat down at the table and selected a donut and a danish. The coffee had gone cold, the egg sandwiches soggy, so going-stale pastries it would be. Trent was on his heels, gave Jason a thumb's up, straddled a chair opposite the doc.

"Don't know what it is about this team." The doc sighed. "Brock will be out in a few minutes. He's insisting on see you all." He reached for a napkin. "Spot on again Trent. You sure do know that kid."

"Clay? What's the word on the kid?" Sonny asked.

"Here now, none of those looks. Kid's doped up on Fentanyl." The doc said. Trent scowled, muttered it had been a mild dosage, the doc waved him off with a huff. "Not a bad thing, he's sure touchy about his arm. He should be back from tests soon. Can't very well hold his hand while he's getting an MRI, now can I?" He reached for a second donut. "Young Spenser will recover from his injuries without permanent damage. The dislocated elbow was severe, but there was no injury to blood vessels or any nerves. He's damn lucky Brock was able to pop it back. Ice, bed rest and pain meds for the next several days. No hairline fractures in his leg, bone bruise will likely be confirmed by the MRI, kids gonna hurt for a while, but will heal without surgery."

"God-damn." Sonny breathed. "Even his toes? His nose?"

"Mmmmm-hmmmmm. Clean breaks. Some tape, a splint, a cast to help keep his weight off his toes and he doesn't bang them into anything. Crutches. We thought about a knee scooter, but he's not gonna wanna put his weight on that leg."

"Recovery time?" Eric asked.

"Eh, four to six weeks, I'd guess." The doc shrugged, peered at the pastry in his hand. "These are good."

"That's it?" Sonny spluttered. "A fucking month?"

"Maybe two." The doc grinned. "And that's because his two moms will insist he wait longer than he needs to, to return to work."

"He didn't look so good in the truck." Eric was doubtful. "Think maybe I'm with his two moms this time."

"He took a beating." The doc agreed. "Didn't say it was going to be easy. He'll have to push through, won't do it on his own. He live alone?"

"He doesn't, doesn't matter. He's not going home." Jason said. "What?"

Ray held the door opened, Lisa entered, pushing Brock in a wheelchair. He wore a hospital gown, had an IV in one arm, a blanket across his lap, but he wasn't on oxygen and had cleaned up. He smelled of disinfectant soap, his wet hair smelled of a chemical – right, treatment for lice. And Lisa was scolding him.

"You shouldn't be out here. Why aren't you in bed? They're keeping you, aren't they? Doc? They should. You need to stay. Eric, make him stay."

"Twenty minutes. He has a room, just can't keep him in it." The doc offered Brock a donut, who hesitated than took it. "Someone get him some water?"

Mandy nodded, left the room.

Jason knew Brock should be in bed getting some sleep, at least rest, but he knew Brock wouldn't want to be alone while they waited until they were able to see Clay. Course, had Brock asked, they all would have gone to his room, but, well, uh seven people, eight if you included the doc, all crowded around his bed would make him feel swarmed.

Brock knew it was coming, looked at Trent who nodded. There would be an official inquiry later, and that would be hard to get through without revealing details only Bravo needed to know. But these guys? They wouldn't settle for anything but every fucking detail. And he'd give it to them, but not now, they'd have to wait a while. He was too tired to do more than tell them what they had to know.

"Went out the back door, woman held a phone in my face, live feed of ak's on Sonny, I went with her. They had some kind of truck." Brock chewed slowly. God, he wanted a cheeseburger, a chocolate bar.

"We didn't hear one." Ray said. "No tracks."

Brock shrugged. "They wanted my help avoiding security, to get in and out of the warehouse."

"What were they after?" Eric asked.

"Nerve agent in a canister that would fit in my pocket," Brock took the opened bottle of water from Mandy. "Thanks."

Eric rubbed his forehead, tugged on an ear….he was developing a nervous habit. He had some calls to make.

"I refused, but they had Clay and…." He hunched a shoulder. "He wasn't with me at first. They brought him later, said the opportunity to take him was too good to pass up, but he didn't go with them without a fight. Jumped out of a moving truck. But….tranquilizer took him down."

"Did they know who he was?"

"No."

Brock accepted another donut. He was hungry, but more than anything, he wanted to sleep. He answered their questions best as he could, but he was getting tired and shifted uncomfortably. Sitting up and talking was taking a toll on his ability to breathe, and soon he was coughing.

"How did they get him?"

"He said four of them jumped him. He was, uh, alone. The Marine unit wasn't happy they had to take him with them."

"Okay, enough." Doc soon stood up, took the handles on the wheelchair. "Get you to your room so you can lay down. Any further questions can wait."

"Why is he coughing again?" Sonny asked.

"He's tired." The doc rolled his eyes. "Sitting up, talking, sure, sure, he's no longer breathing fetid air, but..."

"Fetid." Sonny repeated with a scowl. "Can't you just say foul like a normal person?" He shimmied the doc away from the wheelchair, took the handles. "I got him."

"Blackburn?" Brock let Lisa take the water bottle. "Anything?"

"The goon?" Brock nodded, Eric continued. "Big guy? Well over 6'6? Tattooed arm the size of a tree trunk?"

Brock nodded again.

"I'm happy to say, Sonny blew him up." Happy to say it because he didn't need the murder of anyone in cold blood on the hands or conscious – regardless of what he was responsible for doing – of anyone on Bravo.

"Who'd I blow up?" Sonny asked.

"The man responsible for Clay injuries."

()

Clay stirred, warm, comfortable, the floor beneath him wasn't damp dirt, he didn't smell like a sewer and he was no longer wearing dried-stiff dirty clothes. He knew this place, had been here before…..a hospital. He wanted to wake up, wanted to find the call button, wanted someone to tell him Brock was okay, was here somewhere in the hospital with him. But he didn't, because doing anything beyond a blink was beyond his current abilities.

Someone moved, he heard the creak of a chair, a shadow loomed over him, melted away, but he didn't feel threatened. It was all familiar...the hand on his forehead, his cheek, feeling the pulse in his neck, then his left hand, the quiet voice talking to someone that wasn't him.

He started to move, wanted to talk, needed to ask about Brock...but he drifted in and out, only vaguely aware of the voices and shadows. Whenever he tried to talk, he was shushed. Whenever he tried to move, even raise a hand, he was tsk-tsked. Ice chips were spooned into his mouth, a thermometer tickled his ear, a cold stethoscope pressed against his chest, a damp cloth dabbed his forehead and cheeks, his hand was squeezed a time or two and finally, consciousness was achieved.

"Hey."

His head rolled in the direction of the voice, eyes slow to respond to his request to open. Nothing wrong with his hearing though, he knew that husky hey.

"Yeah, the hospital." He was told. "Leave the damn IV alone." His fingers were slapped, hand caught, pushed to the mattress.

"Brock?" He licked his lips, winced. "Ow!" He squirmed, feeling the sting of salt on a busted lip. "OW!"

"Yeah, split lip, cut your tongue, bit your cheek, gonna sting for a couple days." Trent was leaning on the rails. "And yeah, you're foggy-headed. Some good pain meds, so don't fight it."

"Why'm I sweating?" He turned his face to wipe against the pillow. "Shit." He forgot about his discomfort, tried to sit up. "Brock?"

"Brock's okay, will be released in the morning." Trent assured him. "Sonny's with him."

"Me too?"

Trent snorted. "Not a fucking chance."

"I'm okay, right?"

"Dunno how, but yeah, you're good."

"Don't feel good."

"Called pain, you ass."

"I'm hot." Clay complained, wiping his palm on the sheet. "Sticky hot…..why'm I sweating?"

"Reaction to the pain medication they put you on. Hot flashes and sudden sweats. Welcome to menopause." Trent shook his head with a grin. Leave it to Clay to break out in a red flush and sweat profusely for no reason. Hadn't taken long for him and Doc to question what medication they'd given Clay and change it. "Doc changed it. We'll try anything once, you do great on morphine, okay with a mild dosage of fentanyl."

Whatever…..he didn't really care. His left arm was immobile, his right arm sported the IV but he could move it, just couldn't bend it the way he wanted to.

Perplexed, Trent watched him fidget. "What are you trying to do?" It dawned on him and he chuckled as Clay's frustration mounted.

"This sucks." He licked sweat from his lip. "My hair's wet."

"They gave you a bath."

"When?" He gave up, let the sweat drip into his eyes, off his nose, licked it off his lip, winced.

Trent had teased him long enough, wrung a cloth out, wiped the kids face, neck and chest. "That better?"

He was moving uneasily, casted foot on a pillow, bandaged arm in a sling, ice on his thigh and knee. Trent didn't want him moving about, pushed something on the IV tube and though Clay fought to keep his eyes open, they slowly lost focus and drifted closed.

"You sleep kid, time to talk going home later."

()

Brock held the cell phone Sonny had given him before stepping out to give him privacy to call Katie. He should, he wanted to, but he dozed off, send not thumbed.

Sonny returned, sighed, took the phone and set it aside. He was sure Katie had been notified when Brock had been officially reported missing, knew she would have been notified he'd been found alive. But she needed to hear from him. His family did - his parents, his siblings, his ex-wife and kids.

"Hey," Sonny smacked his shin, knew he wasn't asleep, just 'resting his eyes'. "Trent said Clay woke up, hurts, but he's okay."

Brock pushed at his hair, why wouldn't Sonny just go away? And stay away? He wanted to be alone to sulk and wallow and Sonny was preventing him from doing that.

"I'm not going anywhere." Sonny said. "Trent's babysitting the kid, Jason and Ray are hunting down a Marine unit, Blackburn is getting some answers, so if you're not going to talk to Katie, talk to me. Tomorrow is going to be hard, they're gonna allow Blackburn to be with you though. Now, tell me everything and together we can decide what you're not going to tell them."

Brock was quiet, Sonny was patient. Just sat in a chair and played a game on his phone.

"I couldn't believe they'd found another soldier to take hostage." Brock began finally. "Dragged him in and said, 'say hello to the reason you'll do what I want." He raised the bed, cradled his head with the crook of his elbow. "Left us alone in the dark."

"The room we found him in?" Sonny put the phone down.

"Yeah." Brock stared at the ceiling. "He wasn't conscious, I checked him over...smelled cedar...and he, uh, had a hold on my pants...then the hair, and I checked for dog tags, found three, felt for the scar on his belly, his thigh...and I knew."

Sonny winced, hell of a way to find out the teammate you left home in Virginia was the injured man tossed into a dirt-floor prison with you.

"He was in and out of it, they gave us some water, something to eat...he told me they'd given him a tranquilizer, he came out of it pretty hard, but not as bad as before."

Sonny poured him some water, sat back down. It was going to be a long night until, well, whenever. But Brock was talking and he wasn't holding back, that was a good thing. Sonny would repeat the story to the rest of the team, Brock wouldn't have to go through this again unless he wanted to.

***000***

Nothing much ever happened at JoJo's. It was a local bar favored by military personnel to frequent off base on down time. It offered good booze, decent burgers, entertainment, music, the opportunity to mingle. Oh, an argument might break out, but rarely a fight, never a brawl.

But those in attendance this night? Well...

Tonight the door opened and a woman strolled in. She didn't head for a table, didn't approach the bar, simply walked in and stood in the middle of the room.

"Sargent Willis?" She called. "Marine combat search and rescue unit?"

"Who the hell wants to know?" A man got off a stool at the bar, turned to face her, saw she was dressed in combat fatigues. "Who are you?"

"Logistics Specialist First Class Lisa Davis." Her hands went to her hips.

"That supposed to mean something, little lady?"

"Bravo Team, sub-unit of the United States Naval Special Warfare Development Group." She continued.

"Well now, just what can I do for you?" He leered.

"You can tell me why you sent Special Warfare Operator Clay Spenser out on patrol alone in a known hostile area." God, she had a problem with men who had this attitude. "While on a search and rescue mission for an American Soldier already gone missing."

His entire attitude and whole demeanor immediately changed. He turned away from Lisa, picked up his beer from the bar.

"I don't discuss missions with the likes of you."

"Likes of me? A woman? A female? Or because I'm Bravo?" She was definitely giving him attitude and he didn't like it one bit.

"You need to butt out of business that doesn't concern you."

"What about with the likes of me?" Eric appeared out of nowhere. "Anything you want to say to me?"

Willis eyed the pins and patches on Eric's jacket that identified his rank. "Lieutenant Commander." He acknowledged. "Do we have a problem here?"

"We do." Eric confirmed. "You're going to answer Ms. Davis's question."

"I've given my statement." Five men gathered, got up from a table, came over from a pinball machine, left the pool table. "Anything you care to say to me, can be taken up with Admiral Chariss."

"I've read your statement." Eric tilted his head. "I call bullshit."

"With all due respect sir, I don't answer to you." Willis motioned with his hand for his team to round up. "Good night, we're done here."

But when he turned, the front door was blocked by a man lounging against the door frame with his arms crossed over his chest, chewing on a toothpick. Another had appeared at the door that led to the hallway for the restrooms. And somehow, someway, two more men were now right beside Eric.

"Oh, we're nowhere near done." Said the man to Eric's right. "And the only way you're leaving this bar, is head-first through that window."

Every head in the bar swiveled to look at the window.

"Is that so?

"Yeah, that's so." Jason replied.

"You know that, how?"

"Cause I'm gonna throw you through it."

Every head in the bar swiveled back to judge the size of the two men.

"Who the hell are you?"

The music cut out, lights came on, the game machines went silent.

"You can address me as Master Chief Hayes."

"What the hell did I ever do to you?" But he finally made the connection to the name.

Aaah, right. Leader of the Navy Seal Team Bravo. He'd heard that name thrown in his face for hours in debriefing. As if Willis and his men hadn't already been served a set-down and reprimand from Command from both the Marines and the Navy. He certainly didn't need shit from these assholes who had gone and upstaged him. Found the Seal they'd been sent to find as well as the one they'd lost.

"I don't have anything to say to you." Willis set the beer bottle on the bar. "You got a complaint, take it up through the proper authority ranks. If you got a personal beef with me, too fucking bad. Nothing you can do about it."

People started to get up, some left, some simply backed up against the wall.

"He's a kid." Ray spoke up calmly. "Rookie full of attitude who follows orders because he doesn't know any better."

"You had no right to send him anywhere alone." Eric said. "And you didn't tell us you lost him."

"I reported it to the proper command."

"Not forgivable." Ray added, ignoring the interruption.

"And don't give us crap about he didn't have to go." Lisa chimed in. "That he went on his own. He went because you ordered him to and that's not okay."

Willis did not like being addressed by a woman in such a manner. He decided it was time for him and his men to go. He stepped forward, but his way was blocked. He stepped left, was blocked, stepped right, was blocked.

"Step aside and get out my way." He was used to intimidating most men, was impressed despite his anger, that Jason didn't back down.

Jason stood his ground. "I said, we weren't done."

"I said we were." Willis stood toe-to-toe with Jason. He was bigger, heavier, more muscle, felt he could easily take Master Chief Hayes.

He was wrong.

A fist, a thud, a return punch, a duck and the first five on six all-out brawl at JoJo's erupted.

Chairs flew, bottles hit the floor, tables were upended, shit broke, liquid spilled. Pool balls rolled, some were thrown, cue sticks broke over heads, bodies hit the floor.

It took both Sonny and Jason, but the fight finally ended when Willis went head-first through the window. He lay sprawled amid broken shards of broken glass on the sidewalk, gazing blearily up at Jason who stood over him.

"You ever see me again, make sure I don't see you." Arm across his aching gut, Jason turned and walked away.

Eric would later report to McCall he hadn't seen who had thrown the first punch, though he damn well knew it had been Jason. With two black eyes and a swollen cheek bone, McCall took his word for it.

***END***