Sorry! Sorry! Sorry! No I didn't forget about finishing this one although everyone else has probably long forgotten the story line. The only good thing about this current shitty world situation is that its giving me lots of time to write.

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Jason is far too familiar with waking up in strange beds in foreign countries. A statement that is neither as impressive nor as "sonny-like" as that sounds.

He has traveled to an impressive number of countries in his long career and slept in a wide varieties of hooches ranging from 5 star hotels (one glorious time) to what often amounts to a hoodie or a jacket thrown on a hard floor. He figures over the last 10 years he has maybe spent less than 100 nights a year in his own bed on average, even less over the last few years if you don't count rays couch in that total.

Also sprinkle in there an unfortunately high number of nights spent at a long list of various medical facilities and that one very forgettable night spent in kurdish captivity.

Suffice to say waking up in the same bed or even in safety is not a guarantee in his world and as a matter of habit now he starts running a situation check before he even opens his eyes most mornings. While normal people might be enjoying the cozy blanket cocoon and wishing for more sleep or thinking about their to do list for the day he is already busy trying to figure out where he is, in what country and what bed before his eyes even open.

Without moving a muscle he automatically listens for familiar sounds that speak of safety to him.

Right now Brock's surprisingly loud snores for an otherwise quiet guy are alarmingly absent, as are the rest of his brother's familiar breathing and sleeping patterns. Next up, in a habit he really needs to break, he listens for the creaks of the floor in his house and the not so quiet sounds Mikey used to make while trying to play Nintendo after curfew. And then a second later when he remembers the hairpin turns his life has taken recently he shifts gears to straining to hear the muted traffic and constant barking noises he's come to associate with his new, emptier apartment.

All of those sounds are missing and instead he quickly makes out other equally familiar and equally unwelcome sensations.

The buzz of the machines, the cool breeze of oxygen up his nose, the pinch of an IV and tubes regretfully stuck places he wishes they weren't.

Hospital. Dammnit.

There's no official place for it in his jacket, and it's probably more of a nuisance than a skill his superiors would appreciate, but even not fully with it, maybe higher than a kite he can orient himself enough to recognize a hospital.

That realization is enough adrenaline to clear away some of the fog, to make him really pay attention to what's wrong with him and by association what happened to him. And even more importantly what might have happened to his team.

Headache. Pain across his chest and lower limbs that's just kind of everywhere.

Cold. Tired.

Hard to breathe.

If he's lucky. And there is no head injury. And the drugs aren't too high. He can usually piece it together pretty quickly.

Fire...

Falling...

Darkness…

Alone…

He doesn't remember his team being there

That has him fighting like hell to wake up fully.

He pries his heavy eyes open, heart racing and stomach clenching. Jason blinks through the blurr and the dimmed lights to distinguish some shapes around the room. He finds them in their regular positions, like clockwork. Ray in the chair to his left. Brock at the window. Trent to his right, staring at the machines and Sonny pacing at the foot of his bed.

But that still leaves him one short… Clay, where's Clay? He struggles to remember what happened. Memories of explosions and fire and darkness mix together with images of bombed out streets and destroyed bars. Now he's back in Manilla staring down at Clay on the ground and his heart rate increases. The monitor registers the sudden change, sounding off like a timer ticking down to the next explosion which only makes him more agitated.

Jason starts to move. The team needs to move. They need to get to safety.

He jumps as a hand settles firmly on his shoulder. Ray leans in close and whispers quietly "We're all fine. The team is ok. You're gonna be fine. Stand down"

And that's enough for right now. Jason takes him at his word, centers himself on the calming, familiar voice and lets himself drifts back down into the darkness.

Each time he wakes it's a little clearer, a little easier to and stay awake for conversations and a little easier to remember what's said. That help fills in a few blanks beyond what he already cobbled together and he gets a better idea of where he is and what happened through bits and pieces of information that he collects and stores.

They're in Lisbon, Portugal. A human trafficking raid gone badly.

The fire and the falling was an explosion that sent him tumbling down a tunnel shaft faster than he intended and left him with a broken hip, some cracked ribs, one hell of a concussion and a nasty slice wound on his hip and leg.

As his head gradually stops trying to hammer its way out of his skull and he manages to think things through with a bit more complexity he puts his newly rediscovered cognitive skills to work on several important tasks.

First he starts planning all the PT sessions he is going to make Sonny run once he is back on his feet. At least one set of hill sprints for every single damn old man joke involving broken hips the Texan has subjected him to plus any other creative torture he can add on the side.

But old and busted or not, he rapidly starts to feel better through sheer stubbornness and determination to get the hell out of this hospital and back to base sometime this century. And that's when he starts to work on the second thing. To see right through the bullshit excuses and wonder what is actually going on with his missing team member. He learned with interest that Clay led a successful op in his absence and presumed death, but he's throwing a flag on the notion that the kid is still dealing with paperwork or can possibly have this many follow up meetings.

Jason confirms that there is nothing physically wrong with the kid beyond a broken hand. Confirms it through multiple sources but doesn't really believe it until he's shaken awake from a nightmare one night. Comes straight out of a dark fiery hole to another dark room illuminated by machines and a crack of light from the hallway as the door closes on a familiar shape heading out into the hall.

For a second he isn't sure if he just imagined him there but there's a barely visible and rapidly filling imprint in the soft plastic seat cushion beside him that is both reassuring and concerning all at the same time.

Clay was there. Except apart from the one clandestine visit the kid is noticeably absent.

Normally the kid is borderline clingy when anyone is injured. Bravo 6 has learnt some good (and some bad) habits from Bravo 3 beyond what Jason ever could have hoped or anticipated back when his number three couldn't stand to be in the same room as the newbie. Now, Clay takes after Sonny, and hell probably Jason himself, in how he responds to teammates being injured or ill. They leave the overly affectionate, touchy feely nonsense to others on the team and prefer to say what needs to be said through actions. Spenser has been known to lurk the hallways whenever one of his teammates is injured. The kid rarely leaves and floats in and out of the room ensuring ice chips are filled, smuggling in food in, or whatever other tangible thing he can do to try to help the situation. His actions say just as much about how deeply he cares as someone like Ray who has no problem straight up saying it, or Trent who will sternly lecture and nag his fondness for his team.

In this case, Clay's absence is speaking just as loudly for him but the message is completely different.

So no, he doesn't actually need Ray to tell him that something is off with the kid. Although after three days Ray does finally give up on pretending everything is fine and admits that the kid's been a little wrapped up in his head since the mission and might need a pep talk.

It isn't until the next morning, the one Jason is hoping will be his last day in captivity, when Clay finally drags his butt in to visit in the light of day. Perhaps he sensed that Jason already had a mission plan in place that involved Ray wheeling him straight to Clay's hooch as soon as he was sprung so he could knock some sense into the dolt.

Jason is surprised, but pleases when his morning situation check reveals Clay still sitting in the chair this time, engrossed in a book. Jason lies silently for a second and uses the time to study the blonde. Clay is hunched over onto one arm rest, awkwardly balancing the hardcover on his crossed knee, brow furrowing in concentration as he tries to flip to the next page with only one hand.

Hayes frowns as his eyes catch on the cast and then some previously unmentioned colourful bruises that decorate his hairline and aren't quite hidden by Spenser's messy mop.

He knew it was a rough mission all around and that Sonny got a few ribs dinged up, Brock's sporting some impressive shiners and he had already heard about Clay's not-so-sprained wrist that was actually a broken hand. Thankfully all of that will heal relatively quickly. Hell, probably long before most of his ailments do. Despite his retorts to the texan he doesn't actually bounce back as quick as he used to anymore. But, what he's more concerned about right now is the dark circles under the kid's eyes that tell him sleep has been hard to come by.

They carry a lot of demons in their work. Jason may have the bone weary tiredness going on from blood loss and concussion but its clear Spenser is fatigued for a whole different reason. Jason can almost see the weight of the world sitting on his shoulders right now.

Finally he clears his throat and speaks "So what, you weren't happy with the number 2? Figured you'd bump me off and go a little higher?"

Clay starts at his gravelly voice and the unexpected question. The heavy book on his lap tips precariously and almost goes overboard until Clay spastically slams his good arm down on top and manages to keep it in place.

The kid glances quickly up at the disturbance and then scowls and tries to recover some of his pride and nonchalance when he realizes what happened

Jason smiles and shrugs innocently, ignoring the pull on his ribs.

"Oh come on. A little funny? Maybe eventually?"

Clay rolls his eyes and looks back down at his book, refusing to bite on Jason's attempt at a humorous segway into what promises to be a heavier conversation eventually.

The reaction is so predictably Clay that it rips an unexpected and ill advised chuckle from him. He manages to bite back the full laugh that tries to follow but it's too late and the damage is done igniting sharp pain across his chest that steals his breath. Jason's eyes squeeze shut and he pants shallowly, only vaguely registering movement around him until he feels Clay place a pillow gently into his lap. He holds it gratefully against his aching ribs, putting a soft pressure onto them and trying to breath shallowly.

They sit in silence for a moment while Jason slowly recovers.

By the time pain subsides to a tolerable level Clay has retaken his seat and is pretending not to be paying any attention to his boss on the bed. The stubborn dolt is staring intently at his book as if he is engrossed in reading it again even though no pages are actually flipping.

It probably was too much to hope for that they could easily joke their way to whatever is stuck in the kids craw and fix it without going deeper into a whole bunch of emo crap.

Ok fine then. Doing this the hard way it is. He sighs softly and goes for a different, more direct tactic.

"From what I hear you followed your instincts and got the team through a rough one."

There is heavy silence and Jason internally wishes desperately for the ability to get out of the bed and go force an answer or any sort of reaction out of the sullen kid. Instead he wills the kids to play ball. For once in his life just play ball because Jason doesn't have the energy or the capacity to push it and the only thing he really has going for him right now is he has had plenty of chances to pump the others for info and get several different versions of what happened.

Thankfully a second later Clay does finally offer something to work with.

"Too late."

It's abrupt, and bitter, and Jason barely catches the two words as they slip quietly out If there was any doubt that Spenser was blaming himself for the outcome, the tone pretty much settles it.

Too late though? The response initially has Jason confused. He was more expecting Spenser to be struggling with some of the field decisions, but from what he knows they were all timely so that sentiment doesn't make he's had a lot of time to think back through what he remembers and what he's been told about the mission over the last couple days and try to figure out what went wrong and what might have crawled up Spenser's butt. Now, he's keying in on one particular moment during their final briefing where Clay was unusually reluctant to voice his he is more and more sure that his acting number two held something back there and perhaps he now regrets it.

Working off that theory he takes a stab at keeping the conversation going before Clay can slam his walls back up.

"So live and learn from it and next time you speak up sooner. That's something Ray had to find a balance with too because I don't know everything and sometimes his ideas are definitely better. So never be afraid to voice them. Even if it's just a bad gut feeling at the beginning of the mission, I want all the information on the table."

Clay shifts uncomfortably under his gaze and Jason knows he's on the right track.

He continues on with a wry smile "Don't get me wrong though, Ray also has to pick the right moments and ways to bring things up. It's a finely tuned number two skill that they don't teach you in green team. I'm pretty sure Ray only hits me with a small percentage of all the things he probably would like to. He has to pick his battles wisely and focus on the mission critical stuff rather than all the faults he probably could key in on otherwise I would want to pummel him all the time and we wouldn't get very far."

That gets a laugh out of Spenser and loosens the heavy atmosphere in the hospital room.

"For what it's worth there's no doubt in my mind that you are destined to be a leader on a team. Hell, maybe you are the future of Bravo in 30 or so years when I finally hang up my boots."

Spenser lets out a suspiciously timed cough that's probably actually a poorly stifled laugh. Jason ignores it because they both know that number is a stretch, and the end of his career is probably closer than either of them want it to be.

"I think there is a lot you can learn in a number two spot first though. Things that will make you a better, well rounded leader down the road. I know you have a lot to offer, and that you are ambitious. Don't think that goes unseen. But Ray isn't going anywhere quite yet so at least for the time being we are going to have to find some ways to give you some more opportunities within the current structure. Ones that are going to benefit the team. We can discuss it with Ray, make sure everyone is on board and that it goes a little smoother this time.'

Clay gives a hard nod at that, visibly brightening at the prospect.

"Well alright then. You have my word I will keep finding ways to push you. From the sounds of things you rose to the occasion and handled the shitshow that got dumped on your lap this mission. But that doesn't mean we can't keep building skills so that you are more confident and more ready for whatever life might throw at Bravo next."

Behind Clay's shoulder and through the glass walls of his room, Jason notices Sonny Quinn coming down the hallway for a visit. Satisfied with the outcome of this intervention he decides to push his luck for the day and see if he can't force a resolution to one more issue while he's at it. He gives a large only semi-fake yawn and closes his eyes as if he is drifting off for one of his necessary mid morning naps. What good is getting your bell rung (or more accurately dropped a few stories) and losing a good chunk of your blood volume if you can't use the resulting exhaustion as a convenient excuse to exit a conversation when you want to.

Under heavy eyelashes and mostly closed lids, he watches the Texan come into the room with two coffees in a cardboard tray. Sonny sets the tray down on the seat next to Clay, plucks one coffee out and proceeds across to the other side of the room to lean against the window.

Jason rolls his eyes at the mixed messaging.

From what Ray's told him these two are the only ones still having trouble moving past the little team drama that sparked up in the field on the op. He isn't really all that surprised, both because of their stubborness and also because sometimes it's a lot harder to forgive those you are closest to. The right words are just harder to find when there is more riding on them, more history, more to lose.

But maybe there is some hope here. A gesture that doesn't require any words, men of action after all. A proverbial olive branch in the form of a coffee that Clay plucks from the tray with his good hand.

The silence lingers for a moment, awkward and unpleasant to the point where Jason almost considers giving up on his ruse and "waking up" to help speed things along. The only sound is the scratching of Clay's nails as they do battle with the plastic lid. He fights to get the lid off one handed and pulls at the plastic causing it to rub and squeak painfully against the sides of the styrofoam cup.

Sonny watches him struggle for a minute, clearly unsure if he can help his friend or not. Finally the man makes a move, getting up and crossing the room. He lifts the tray, sits himself in the chair next to Clay and reaches for the cup all in one smooth decisive sequence.

"Here gimmie that." He doesn't actually give Clay an option, plucking the cup right out of his hands.

Sonny opens it the lid effortlessly using two hands and then rips open 3 packets of sugar and adds them. He mumbles something barely audible about girly coffee and then hands it back to Clay who acknowledges the gesture with a muted but appreciative sounding grunt.

There's another pause where Sonny looks like he is considering bolting back to safety on the other side of the bed but instead the man clears his throat and says louder, if still somewhat tentatively "Well with your luck you'd probably drop it and end up with third degree burns. Just what we need"

There's silence for a second and Jason wonders if that was pushing this tentative truce too far too soon.

But instead Clay snorts and starts to shake his head in denial. Then he pauses that movement and inclines it slightly, admitting ruefully "True enough."

Jason smiles and lets his eyes actually shut all the way, confident the pair are well on their way to getting past this awkwardness. Besides there is no one else for them to talk to right now while he takes a quick power nap so they will have to keep moving forward.

Sure enough the last thing he hears before he gives into the real exhaustion that snuck up on him is Sonny demanding "So, you gonna let me sign that thing or what."

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Phewwww…. This one is finally done. It was a bit outside my comfort zone to write this much dialogue/action sequences but it was worth it for all the Ray/Clay/ at the end. Hope everyone enjoyed it.

I do have another story started. I've been working on it along the way which is partly why this last chapter took so long, but I'm going to get a couple chapters ready to go before I start posting so that the updates go a little smoother than on this story.

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