You all win. Here's an extra chapter ;) Hopefully you enjoy it. Thanks again for all your encouraging words x

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If Jason had been sleeping, like most normal people at two AM, the burst of life from his cell phone would have startled him.

However, he wasn't sleeping. And the call from Sonny pulled him abruptly from his thoughts - as opposed to his dreams.

It was a welcome reprieve.

Sleep had been hard to come by lately. He was tired of feeling lost in the torrent of worries, memories, and stress that seemed to be crashing through his head non-stop. His bed was a place where all that became terribly loud, without anything else to focus on. And with his recent conversation with Blackburn still fresh in his mind, he was feeling more on edge than ever.

Bringing the phone to his ear, he braced for whatever Bravo Three was about to tell him. Because at this hour, it couldn't be anything good.

As he listened to the Texan relay what had transpired, he questioned whether it was better than being stuck in his own head – or if he preferred it the other way around.

Stifling a groan, he ended the call. His stomach had tied itself in an uncomfortable knot at Sonny's words. He'd already had Clay-related worry simmering away. Now it bubbled up and over. He'd hoped he would have more time to think of the best way to deal with the storm that seemed to be brewing, but unfortunately it appeared it was already upon them.

Throwing his legs over the edge of the bed, he took a moment to scrub a hand over his eyes, let it linger briefly over his mouth. He blew out a breath through his nose. Their 'kid' was single-handedly causing him more stress than his two biological children combined.

Pulling on a shirt and grabbing phone, wallet and keys, he quietly padded towards Emma's room. He stopped at Mikey's half-closed door along the way, checking in on his youngest – happy to see him sleeping soundly, albeit in a crazy position. He carried on to Emma's door, opened it quietly, and crept into the room.

Emma looked so peaceful in her sleep. She'd had a lot to deal with lately, and he hated waking her. But he didn't feel like he had much of a choice. "Em," he whispered, leaning close.

She startled, blinked up at him. Pulled a face and muttered what sounded suspiciously like a curse word.

Jason decided to let it slide. "I'm sorry," he apologized. "I've gotta duck out and take care of something. I should be back some time around breakfast. Will you be okay until then? I'll have my cell."

She pulled herself up onto an elbow, eyes clearing, and regarded him levelly. "Everything okay?"

Not really, he thought. But opted instead to answer with a kiss to her forehead, half a smile.

She narrowed her gaze, not buying it. Even at this hour, Jason could see the cogs in his daughter's brain working. "Who's in trouble?" she asked after a moment.

Jason waved her off, but she raised an eyebrow.

"Let me guess," she sighed. "Either Sonny has got into a bar fight and you have to go bail him out of lock up - or Clay hasn't been answering his phone and it's caused mass panic so you're going to check on him, even though he's a grown adult and probably fine."

Jason blinked at his daughter, opened his mouth. Closed it again. Sometimes she was too much like her mother. It was admirable and irritating at the same time.

"I'll be back as soon as I can," he hedged, kissing her again and moving towards the door. He paused in the doorway, half turning to face her. "Think you could make up the spare bed?"

A knowing look settled over her features. Her lip twitched. "So, the answer is Clay," she replied, amused.

Jason shook his head. Admirable and irritating. "Call if you need me." He waved his phone.

"How long's he staying for this time?" Her voice followed him as he left the room. "No, it's okay, don't answer. I've accepted that you'll probably give him my room when I go off to college."

Jason rolled his eyes. "Go back to sleep."

Clay had only ever stayed at their place once – okay, maybe twice. But both times he'd been sick, and Stella hadn't been around. His daughter could exaggerate sometimes. Apparently, teenagers excelled at that.

Slipping out of the house, he climbed into his truck. Started the engine. He'd asked Sonny to contact the others, tell them to come around and meet at the Texan's apartment.

Bouncing his cell phone in his hand for a moment, he chewed on his lip. He never liked calling Blackburn in the middle of the night, but given their recent conversation, he felt it was necessary to keep their commander in the loop.

Putting the phone on speaker, he hit dial, figuring he could talk on the way.

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Jason pulled up to Sonny's at the same time as Ray. He cut the engine, hopped down from the truck, and fell into step beside his 2IC.

He shot a glance at Ray. "You get any sleep?"

"Nope," came the clipped reply. "You?"

Jason didn't answer, just shook his head as they hurriedly entered the apartment complex.

Ray had been with him on base less than six hours earlier, meeting with Backburn. It hadn't been an enjoyable discussion. Jason wasn't surprised that his best friend hadn't got any shut eye either.

He chewed his lip as they took the stairs. "I've updated Blackburn. The guys aren't gonna like what I have to say," he muttered.

Ray huffed his agreement.

"Hell, I don't like it," Jason clarified, swinging around a landing and mounting the next set of stairs, two at a time.

Ray kept pace.

"Sonny'll lose his shit." Jason could already picture the hot-headed Texan's reaction.

They reached the correct floor and pushed through a door, into a badly lit hallway that smelled of carpet cleaner.

"Something like this happens," Jason continued as they approached Sonny's door, "we're used to cracking skulls, throwing punches." He turned to face Ray as they paused beside the apartment entry.

Ray's gaze was unwavering, but Jason could see his own frustration mirrored there.

He worked his jaw, jerked his head stiffly towards the door they were about to walk through. "How am I supposed to tell them that they have to stand down?"

Ray levelled him with a look. "We have no choice, brother. You heard what Blackburn said."

Yeah, Jason had heard it alright. It sat like a burning rock in his stomach. He huffed bitterly, leaning heavily against the door frame. "Kid's already up against it, and then this shit has to go down tonight." He shook his head, unable to dislodge his anger. "Fathers are meant to build their kids up – not tear them down."

"We've got his back," Ray said, tone falling just short of reassuring.

Jason picked up on the uncharacteristic uncertainty lacing his friend's words, felt his stomach knot and twist. Sure, they had Clay's back. But would it be enough?

Choosing not to take the conversation any further, he rapped knuckles against the door instead. Chewed his lip.

Ray let out a tense breath beside him.

The door opened, and Sonny ushered them inside

Jason eyed the Texan. Another team member looking worse for wear, who obviously hadn't slept. It seemed to be going around.

Trent rose from where he'd been crouched beside Clay, who appeared to be sleeping on the couch. Moved over to greet them.

Sonny stood, arms folded. Glanced at the medic. "Pretty sure Trent broke some sort of land speed record getting here."

Jason raised a brow.

Trent ignored Sonny's comment, focused on Jason and Ray. "I've checked him over. Nothing broken, just badly bruised. No concussion."

"'S what I said," Sonny muttered, leaning against the kitchen bench.

Jason's eyes flicked to the couch. Clay had a blanket draped over him, tucked in around the edges. He looked a lot younger than his years. Jason noted the gash on his forehead, the puffy eye and split lip. Anger welled within him. He battled to swallow it back down. Blackburn had assured him they would find the guys responsible, and that they would answer for what they did. But Jason couldn't shake the urge to pound them into the ground himself. He wasn't good at handing over the reins when it came to this sort of thing. If someone hurt one of his team – he damned well wanted to hurt them back.

A soft knock came from the door, and Sonny shuffled over to let Brock in, clapped him on the shoulder as he entered.

The normally mild-mannered dog handler caught sight of Clay, set his jaw, a spark of anger flaring in his dark eyes. He muttered something about finding the guys responsible and feeding their testicles to Cerb.

Ray twitched an eyebrow.

Clay brought out the best and the worst in all of them. If anyone threatened their boy, then they would be faced with Bravo's worst.

Which made what Jason had to say even more challenging.

With once last glance at Clay, he motioned for them to follow him into the kitchen. They could talk there without waking the younger man, whilst still keeping an eye on him.

Three men followed him eagerly, each obviously itching to formulate a plan for revenge.

Ray brought up the rear, all too aware that no such thing would happen. He leaned against the counter, nodding at Jason, bracing for the explosion that was about to come.

"So," Sonny said, before Jason could open his mouth. "We teaching these guys a lesson or what? I'm up for a fight."

Trent and Brock murmured their agreement.

Jason shook his head. "Sonny, you're always up for a fight." He drew a steadying breath, shifted gears. Looked pointedly at each of them in turn.

"We can't go after the guys who hurt Clay," he told them after a moment, bracing for impact and holding up a hand to silence any interruptions. "They'll get what's coming to them, don't you worry. Blackburn is aware of what happened and is working on it. But it needs to be by the book." He locked eyes with Sonny, making sure the hot-headed cowboy had heard him. "We need to leave this one alone."

There was a beat of silence.

Sonny opened his mouth, slammed it shut again. Shook his head jerkily. "Hold up a minute," he eventually found his words. "For a second there I thought you said we can't go after the guys who hurt Clay?"

Jason chewed his lip. He'd expected this.

"That makes no sense," Brock mumbled, fire in his dark eyes growing even brighter. "Why would we let this go?"

Trent scrubbed a hand over his short beard. Eyed Jason. Expression just as unhappy as the others.

Jason held up his hands placatingly. "Look," he continued. "For the record, I don't like it either." He glanced towards the couch. "It seems counterintuitive. But …" he sighed. "It's the best thing we can do for Clay right now." He sounded as if he was trying to convince not only them, but himself as well.

Sonny gaped. Paced like a caged bull. "The fuck?" he spat furiously. They had been trying to keep their voices down, but he was having trouble staying quiet. "How the hell is sitting on our asses gonna help the kid? Some guys thought it was okay to rough him up. I say that's not okay, and we show them who the fuck they're dealing with."

Brock huffed his agreement, taking the Sonny's side.

Trent's gaze skipped between Jason and Ray. He sucked in a breath, steadying his own frustration. "Okay," he said quietly. "I'll bite. What the hell's going on?" He folded his arms, leaned back against the bench.

Thank you, Trent, Jason thought. Aside from Ray, the level-headed medic was often the voice of reason.

Jason glanced at Bravo Two. "Ray and I had a meeting with Blackburn earlier tonight," he told them, shifted uneasily. "Turns out Ash Spenser gave an interview a couple of weeks back about his new book."

Both Sonny and Brock cursed at the mention of Clay's father.

"He said," Jason continued, "that he had first hand accounts of missions. Hinted that he has someone on the inside feeding him info." He paused, letting his guys process the words.

Trent was the first to put it together. "And there's suspicion that the leak is Clay?" His tone was dangerous.

Sonny cursed again, pounded the bench. "That's bullshit," he snarled.

"Clay would never," Brock said, shaking his head in denial. "There's no way."

Jason nodded. He agreed. They all agreed.

"None of us are thinking he did," Ray reassured them, holding up a calming hand.

"But there are those higher up who aren't so convinced," Jason said gravely, feeling his stomach knot once again. "There are a lot of guys out there who hate Ash Spenser, and who would be more than happy to take that frustration out on Clay." The admission made his blood boil, just thinking about it. "I'm not sure that Clay's aware of it, but it seems he's being dragged into a shit storm."

Sonny was still cursing.

Brock had joined him.

Trent's hands were now by his sides, balled into tight fists.

Jason scrubbed his eyes, not blaming them one bit. Everything about this sucked.

"Look," Ray said, stepping in. "None of us like this. But Jase is right – if we want to help Clay, we need to tread carefully." He levelled his gaze at Sonny. "The last thing we want to do is draw more negative attention to him. We need to keep our heads down." He nodded pointedly. Set his jaw. "Because if we don't," he continued, "and this blows up like we're worried it will do, Clay will need all the support he can get."

Jason was grateful for Ray backing him up. He nodded in agreement. It was probably wishful thinking, hoping that their youngest team member would never be pulled in for questioning – or worse, stood down whilst being investigated – but they had to do what they could to rally around and protect him.

"Honest to God," Sonny grit, "Ash Spenser is a fucking piece of work. I wouldn't be sorry to put him down."

They were all on board with that one.

Brock fidgeted, chewed his lip. Glanced at Clay, back to Jason. "So, what, we do nothing?" He was clearly unhappy with that idea.

Jason blew out a breath, shaking his head. No, they wouldn't do nothing. They would do as much as they could, without making things worse. "We watch him," he replied. "Take turns having him stay with us. Don't let him out of our sight."

Sonny scoffed. "He ain't gonna like that."

"He doesn't have a choice," Jason countered firmly. "There might be others, like the guys tonight. And if we have a close eye on him, then we can make sure Ash doesn't come near him either."

"And if he tries?" Sonny quirked a brow.

Jason's lip twitched. "Then he's fair game."

There was unanimous agreement.

Sonny huffed, let out a few more under-breath curses. Obviously didn't like the situation, but had settled down somewhat. "Well, he may as well stay with me first," he said, glancing towards the couch. "Since he's already here."

Jason had expected as much. Normally he wouldn't have a problem with that, but he felt like it was best that Clay stay at his place first. He told Sonny as much.

"I don't know if he's aware of what's going on," he explained. "I need to have a word with him. Find out if he knows about the interview, and Ash's claims." He felt his gut tighten. It wasn't a conversation he was looking forward to.

Waiting a beat, Jason let his eyes skip over his team.

Each of them wore matching, unhappy expressions. But there was a general air of acceptance lingering around them now. Solidarity. Understanding. That had to do what was right for their boy. And as hard as it was, sometimes going in guns blazing wasn't the right answer.

As if being aware that the group meeting had finished, Clay stirred from his position on the couch, drawing all eyes towards him.

Groaning and cradling his head, he wobbled upright.

Sonny was already on his way. "If you're gonna spew, tell me now," he warned. But his tone was concerned. He lay a steadying hand on Clay's shoulder, which drew a slight flinch from the younger man.

Clay blinked at him groggily. Slowly shook his head.

Jason moved in front of the couch, Trent by his side.

Clay noticeably shrank as he caught sight of his team leader, medic, and Ray and Brock hovering behind. He inhaled jaggedly, attempted to pull himself up straighter. Failed. His expression was laced with guilt and his gaze fell to the floor. "Oh man," he said quietly, hugging his ribs. "You're all here." He shot a glare at Sonny.

Trent knelt, tilted Clay's chin towards him. Assessed him now that he was properly awake. Seemed satisfied that he wasn't going to keel over.

Jason's hands were resting on his hips. He locked eyes with his rookie. It was obvious that Clay thought he was in for a lecture. It hurt a little that the kid would probably have trouble understanding why they had dropped everything to come check up on him. His walls were still strong, his trust not entirely gained. He was still learning to let his brothers take care of him.

"I'm sorry," Clay sighed, defeatedly. "I screwed up." He looked very small hunched over on the couch with all of them towering around him. "Shouldn't have gone drinking on my own like that."

Jason shook his head gently, waved off the apology. "Nothing to be sorry for," he replied. "You should be able to go to a bar for a drink, without being beaten up."

Clay blinked at him. Seemed unsure. The guilt lifted slightly, but didn't disappear entirely.

Jason leant forward, tugged at the blanket that had twisted around Clay's legs. He didn't want to chat to Clay here, felt it was a conversation they should have in private. "Come on," he instructed. "Get your ass off the couch. I'll take you by your place and you can grab your things."

Clay scrubbed his eyes, glanced at Sonny, and then Trent, seemingly confused.

"You're staying with me for a while," Jason clarified.

Clay processed the words, opened his mouth to protest.

"It's not up for discussion," Jason cut in. He wasn't going to tell Clay that it was an order, but his tone brooked no argument.

Guilt settled once again over the younger man's features. He looked like a remorseful child accepting a punishment.

Jason reached for his elbow, helped him to his feet and squeezed his shoulder reassuringly. Yep, they had work to do with Clay's trust issues. "You right to walk?" he asked, watching the kid's wince and darting a glance at Trent.

Clay took a few steadying breaths. Nodded slowly.

"Go slow," Trent instructed, eyeing his patient. "Those ribs are badly bruised."

Jason snaked an arm gently around Clay's middle, being sure to avoid the injured ribs, let the younger man lean on him for support. "Come on, kid," he grunted. For someone who currently looked so small, Clay sure was heavy. "I got you. Easy does it."

The others parted to let them pass, each offering their little brother a gentle pat on the back or a shoulder squeeze.

Sonny opened the door, paused and met Jason's eyes as they shuffled over the threshold.

Jason nodded, recognizing the concern in the burly Texan's gaze. As gruff as Sonny could be, he had really taken Jason's request to look out for their rookie to heart. Jason had never expected that his two biggest misfits would become best friends. Never could have predicted that a cocky little turd was exactly what Sonny Quinn had needed.

"I'll take care of him," he reassured his number three. "Now get some sleep. You look like shit."

Sonny huffed, twitched a wry smile. "Don't think any of us are going to be getting much of that for a while."

Jason readjusted Clay's weight. Felt his stomach sink in agreement. He desperately hoped this storm would blow over quickly and without incident - but his gut told him that there was some serious trouble brewing on the horizon.

He just hoped they could weather it.

And emerge in once piece.

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Clay fumbled with the keys at his apartment door. Beside him, Jason leaned against the door frame. Clay had snoozed on the drive from Sonny's to here, and was feeling less and less drunk, more and more beaten and bruised. He wanted to return to the muted numbness the alcohol had provided. But four AM was no time to start drinking. And besides, he most likely wouldn't be allowed.

Pushing the door open, Jason went to help him in, but Clay politely waved him off. It was bad enough he had a babysitter. He could at least move himself under his own steam – even if it hurt like hell. He felt guilty for how his evening had ended up, and humiliated by how drunk he'd been and the mess he'd ended up in. He really didn't want his team smothering him right now, but it appeared he had no choice.

Moving inside the apartment, Jason closed the door behind them. Locked it. Glanced around the room.

Clay felt another pang of embarrassment. He hadn't had anyone around in a while, not even Sonny. The apartment was a dump. Beer bottles and empty take out boxes were scattered here and there. And he hadn't cleaned the floor or wiped the benches properly for at least a few weeks. It was very much reflective of his current state of mind.

Jason didn't comment, just moved to the couch, cleared a space and plopped himself down with a tired sigh. "You need help grabbing your things?" he asked, eyeing Clay and the way he leaned against a chair for support.

Clay released the chair, straightened with a wince. No, he was fine to pack a bag. He began shuffling towards his bedroom, stopped and glanced back at Jason. Chewed his lip. "Is there, um, a reason I'm grounded?" he ventured. "I mean, aside from being an idiot and getting drunk and beat up."

Jason released a breath, leaned back into the couch. Scrubbed his eyes.

"I'm really okay to stay here," Clay continued, hopeful that perhaps his team leader would change his mind. He was hurting, sure, but he'd sleep it off, take some pills.

But Jason shook his head. "It's better we keep an eye on you," he explained, brushing off Clay's attempt at getting him to leave. "Those guys who got the drop on you earlier," he continued, "they're not the only ones pissed off with Ash at the moment."

A chill rolled through Clay at the mention of his father.

"They probably wont be the last to take a swing at you, just to get to him," Jason speculated soberly.

Clay considered Jason's words, felt the pieces connecting. His stomach dropped. "This is about the interview, isn't it," he said. It was a statement more than a question.

For a brief moment, the Master Chief allowed genuine worry to cloud his expression, before quickly scrubbing it away.

Clay felt anxious rage bubbling up within him. He fought to squash it down.

"We feel it's best you're not alone at the moment," Jason explained, trying for gentle, but the gravity of what he was implying seeped through his tone. "We're not sure, yet, what the implications of that interview might be. Ash made some pretty bold claims. And unfortunately, it's shone an unwelcome spotlight upon you."

Clay felt himself blanch. For a moment, he worried he might be sick. He swallowed jaggedly. "I didn't-" he started, scrambling for words under Jason's gaze. He tried again. "I would never-"

But Jason cut him off, waving a hand. "Don't even finish that sentence," he ordered, and levelled Clay with a look. "None of us, not even Blackburn, believe for one second that you've been leaking information to your father."

Clay felt a small amount of relief wash through him at the certainty Jason managed to inject into his words. His throat worked, voice stuck. He opted for a small, broken nod as opposed to a reply. However, anger still pulsed through him.

"Go grab your stuff," Jason suggested, gesturing towards the bedroom. "You look like you're about to fall over. Those ribs must be hurting like hell. The sooner we get back to my place, the sooner you can lay down again."

Clay couldn't deny that he was struggling to stay upright. He ached all over, and yet his knuckles tingled with the need to pound the shit out of something. He hesitated a moment longer, and then shuffled towards his room.

Once inside, he made quick work of grabbing a duffel bag, fishing clothes out of drawers, tossing them inside. He tried to steady his breathing, quell his mounting rage - but once the last item of clothing was in the bag, he couldn't hold onto it any more.

It exploded out of him like a pressure cooker, his fist flying to pound the wall.

Pain cracked across his knuckles, and he hissed, jerking his hand back to his chest. Tears pricked his eyes. Anger gave way to defeat, as his body protested at being jarred so roughly.

A moment later, a gentle hand landed on his shoulder. Jason was beside him, looking between his now-bruised knuckles, and the dent in the wall.

Clay grit his teeth. Willed himself calm.

"Save it for the punching bag," Jason said gently, hand still on his shoulder, steadying him. "It's a lot more forgiving than that wall - or your landlord."

Clay's gaze flicked guiltily to the floor. The last tendrils of fight left his tense muscles, and he sagged slightly.

Jason lingered a moment longer, as if making sure the younger man wasn't going to crumple in a heap.

Clay squeezed his eyes closed briefly, regathering himself.

Jason moved to the bed, zipped up the duffel. Hoisted it over his shoulder. Stood patiently in the bedroom doorway.

Clay stared at the wall, rubbing his sore knuckles absently. "My father," he said quietly, voice aching in his throat, "has been fucking up my life since the day I was born."

Jason didn't reply.

The painful admission hung heavily between them.

Clay once again felt tears threaten, banished them by blinking rapidly. He moved his gaze to Jason. "You know," he said brokenly. "Towards the end of SERE, when I was hallucinating, I saw my father."

Jason drew a slow breath, straightened slightly.

"We were in the ocean," Clay explained. "He was a dead weight on my legs." He huffed bitterly. "Bastard was trying to drown me."

Jason winced slightly.

Clay nodded jerkily. "I guess that pretty much sums up our relationship." He sniffed, scrubbed a hand over his stubble. "I fucking hate the man. But I can't seem to get him out of my life."

Another few heavy heartbeats passed.

Eventually Jason stepped towards his wavering rookie, slid an arm around his middle and moved them both towards the door. "Let's go, buddy," he said softly.

Clay didn't fight it. Let himself be herded back out towards the living area.

Breaking free of Jason's hold, he snagged his keys off the kitchen bench. His eyes caught on the photo of him and Brian that he'd found the day before. He'd propped it in the empty photo frame that used to house his favourite photo of him and Stella. He stared at it a moment.

Jason must have followed his gaze, because he stepped closer, nodded towards the image. "That's a nice photo of you and your friend," he stated genuinely.

Clay glanced at his team leader, noticed a flicker of sadness cross his features. Yeah. It was a nice photo. Once again, he felt his thoughts dragged back to the day Brian had died. His vision blurred for a moment.

He turned the keys over in his hands, noticing they trembled slightly. "Do you know the last thing he said to me, before the accident?"

Jason shook his head.

Clay blew out a breath, worked his jaw. Stared at the beaming face of his long-time best friend. "He told me he liked Stella." His lip twitched, remembering the brief conversation they'd had in the field before the jump. There was no humour in the empty smile that ghosted his features. "Told me not to screw it up." He huffed brokenly. Bit his lip. "Honestly, sometimes I feel like that's all I do, you know." He shook his head, trying to clear the memory. "I screw things up."

Jason considered a moment, gaze fixed on the youngest member of his team. Eventually he replied. "Maybe that's how you feel," he said. "Maybe that's how your father has made you feel. But you have to know - that's not how we feel."

Clay leaned against the bench, his ribs throbbing. He let out a shaky breath, nodded slowly. Unconvinced, especially after tonight.

Jason must have realized that his words hadn't truly sunk in, because he gripped Clay's shoulder, made sure he held the younger man's gaze. "I want you to remember something for me," he said firmly.

Clay held eye contact, even though he wanted to shrink away.

"I want you to think of SERE. Remember the feeling of your father dragging you down."

Clay blinked, confused.

Jason didn't give him a chance to reply. "And then I want you to remember who it was that lifted you back up." He nodded pointedly. "Whose hands you held onto. Who pulled you from that barrel."

Clay's throat worked, and tears pricked his eyes once again. He swallowed them down, nodding. Understanding.

Jason gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze. "We always have your back, brother," he stated firmly.

Clay blinked rapidly, his breaths jagged around the lump in his throat.

They stood like that for another heartbeat, and then Jason broke the silence, shifting gears. He nodded towards the front door. "What's say we get out of here?" He suggested. "I'm so tired I could fall over, and you look like absolute hell."

Clay huffed, grateful for the heaviness dissolving around them.

Jason pulled his cell phone from his pocked, waved it with a hint of annoyance. "Sonny has messaged me three times, asking if we're home yet and if you're okay."

Clay's lip twitched.

"And Trent," Jason sighed dramatically, "has messaged twice to remind me to give you painkillers once we're home, because the alcohol should have worn off enough by then, as well as left three voice messages explaining what I can and can't give you to help with your various ailments."

Clay's lip twitch morphed into a small grin.

"So, please," Jason continued, shouldering the duffel and moving to support Clay once again around his middle, ignoring the younger man's feeble protests. "Let's go. Because they're driving me fucking crazy."

As if on cue, the older man's cell phone chimed with a new message.

Clay caught sight of Brock's name on the screen, felt amusement bubble within him.

"Oh for fuck's sake," Jason muttered, leading them on.

Clay vaguely wondered how long it would be before Ray joined the group, checking in.

For the first time in a long time, he felt a small amount of warmth unfurl within him. Just enough to chase away some of the dark.

He would take Jason's advice, and hold on to his team like a life raft.

He had to believe that whatever deep water he was entering, the strength of his brothers would carry him through.

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Really the end this time ;) I'm hoping that the implications of Ash's interview are explored this season – obviously resulting in a lot of angst for Clay, oh and whump would be a bonus, but when is it not?

Enjoy the new season everyone!