Golden

By: MusketeerAdventure

Summary: Clay and Sonny come to an understanding….albeit under dire circumstances.

Clay looked up, and held out his hands.

Oddly, it was raining sand, pebbles and bits of earth. His goggles clouded over with dusty debris and wiping them off with the sleeve of his jacket revealed that the world was exploding around him. Stumbling, he felt the ground rumble and shift beneath his feet. Sand, rocks and shrapnel erupted from the ground like a geyser, and stung his face, his neck…his hands.

He thought…this must be hell. But in retrospect, couldn't understand why the sky was so blue; or the sun so bright and how the sweet smell of poppies assailed his senses … their blush a pale, pinkish white – swaying languidly within the chaos of mortar fire.

Where was he?

Ahead of him – across the florid field – he could make out beautifully ragged mountains; large boulders; steep hilly inclines and beyond that the harsh gritty desert. Ray appeared to his left and called out, "Take cover!" – but he couldn't see from what. There was no enemy, only the thump and whine of a rocket launcher being locked, loaded, and released somewhere in the distance.

Who should he be targeting?

Swinging his weapon in a wide arc, he searched the field for the rest of his team. Boss raced by him, unseeing – his face like stone, his purpose somewhere beyond the mountains. Eerily, Brock threw Cerberus' favorite orange ball among the pale poppies, yelling out to her, "Fetch girl!" above the noise of shells bombarding the earth.

When he turned back, Sonny – moving quickly, bore down on him like a raging bull; blood on his face; streaming strands of red pouring down from beneath his helmet down into his collar; foaming from his mouth – his finger piercing hard at his chest. "I told you to put the extra charges in your leg pouch!" he shouted.

In his ear piece, Stella screamed over the cacophony, "Is it snowing?"

Panting hard, coughing up imaginary sand, he woke up screaming her name. And when he opened his eyes, Sonny had him by the shoulders – pinning him down with a frown on his face.

"Where are you?" Sonny asked firmly, squeezing his shoulders hard. For a moment, he couldn't answer – as his throat was dry and the confusing sandy rain continued to pelt down all around him. Then, he blinked and all at once the poppies, rumbling earth and exploding dirt faded away into the hidden, shadowy corners of their quarters.

"Where are you?" Sonny insisted, his voice granite and grip like steel, bruising his flesh.

He thought he heard the timbres of Echo Team within the recesses, but knew that couldn't be. They were lost, and waited silently for them to follow through on their promise – to find their executioners.

Clay surveyed the room and caught the eye of Brock sleepily staring back at him. Surprisingly, Cerberus was at his feet – sitting in the ready position; her ears pitched forward…waiting. Trent sat on the side of his bunk, stroking his beard and then again he turned to Sonny – who hovered intently waiting for him to answer the question.

Clearing his throat, Clay croaked out, "I'm in my bunk." And pushed Sonny away – aware that the others having heard him speak, now turned away to recapture sleep. Cerberus licked his face, hopped down and swiftly rejoined her partner.

Sonny descended back down to his bottom bunk, and rubbed his face tiredly. "Just checking on you newbie", and flopped back to his pillow.

Groaning, Clay covered his eyes and attempted to blot out his dream. A dream that felt so real it had his stomach churning; heart racing and his emotions bubbling to the surface. Irritated, he countered, "I don't need you checking on me Sonny – I can take care of myself."

Below he could hear the amusement in Sonny's voice. "Is that right?" and then heard him turn over; huff out something about "ungrateful" and quietly drift off into silence.

Sighing deeply, he didn't get how Sonny and the others could do that. Just drop off to sleep in the wink of an eye. It was one of those skills he hadn't yet mastered, that he wished he had now. If so, then he could escape this feeling, this bad feeling that his dream was trying to tell him something; that something was about to go terribly wrong.

Grimly he reached for Razor Garcia's talisman hanging above his head, and stroked the smooth bullet lightly. In the morning, they were headed out to make due on their promise – and this dream was unsettling him. Maybe if he wore the talisman tomorrow, it would fend off the bad luck he felt waiting for him.

Knocking down doors, talk of burnt out poppy fields, drug lords and missing Stella was taking a serious toll and had him on edge. So much so that lately he and Sonny had been at each other's throats, and he wasn't quite sure how or why it started. Even in his dreams they were at odds, and that's not how he wanted things to be between them.

He could practically hear Brian whispering in his ear to, "Not get out of the boat; be a team player", that "There's no need to be alone if you don't have to be." He thought of Brian a lot, wondered about all of the advice he had given him and took his words to heart.

From below, Sonny's voice startled him out of reverie. "Were you dreaming of her stepping out with the Professor?" he asked with a slight chuckle as his punctuation.

Annoyed Clay clipped back angrily, "Leave me alone Sonny", squeezed the talisman with his fist and shut his eyes. Behind closed lids he could see clearly the exploding fields, blood on Sonny's face, and felt real fear settle in the pit of his stomach.

"Good shooting kid."

Those words got him up and moving; running over rock and dry brush – Brock and Cerberus on his heels. His breathing harsh, a surreal sensation overcame him as the talisman bounced around his neck. This was his dream come to reality.

And Sonny was over the next ridge, hurt – or maybe even worse. He could be….

No, not that, he had heard him speak; give a rare round about thank you. This was not his dream. Sonny was okay, he had to be.

Picking up his pace; dodging rocks and crevices – he could hear Boss in his ear, "Jackpot" – the mission a success. Ray countering with, "The target is secure." Everyone was good. Sonny had gone down, but he had taken out the threat.

"He's okay. He's okay." Clay stammered as his feet pounded the earth; eating up the half mile separating them.

What if Sonny was hurt bad, what if his last words to the man had been fighting words? Words he hadn't meant; heated words said only because he didn't want to be treated like the rookie anymore. He was so tired of Sonny riding his back; overlooking his experience – treating him like a kid.

Rounding the corner, he came to a sudden stop. There was Sonny lying in the dirt his face covered in blood, just like in his dream. He couldn't move, but could see Brock sliding in the dirt to sit at Sonny's side. Cerberus barked out a greeting; but for some reason, he couldn't hear her.

Boss joined them, escorting his prisoner, bound – hands behind his back, tripping clumsily over his own feet; then pushed unceremoniously to the ground; bouncing hard – splitting his already busted lips.

Sound was lost to him as he looked up and saw the helo circle above them, making a slow descent to their right, kicking up the sand.

When he looked back, Boss was on his knees – talking to Sonny, but he couldn't hear what he was saying, his hands trembling because Sonny wasn't moving and what if he had been too late?

His legs felt leaden, and wouldn't let him move closer to see; and then Boss was at his shoulder, his hand wrapped around the back of his neck – heavy, warm and sure. "He's okay kid" – his voice unnaturally loud as sound rushed back into focus; the blades from the helo making themselves known, and the wind howling from one hill top to another.

Suddenly he could breathe; so sat down hard on his ass as his legs gave way; and took deep cleansing breaths to stave off dizziness and panic. Boss tapped the top of his helmet and waited a beat; as he gathered his wits and got his self under control. "Help him to the chopper" he ordered, "we're getting out of here."

And as Boss turned away to grab up his prisoner, Clay nodded; scrambled to his feet and moved quickly to Sonny's side. Glad to see him griping and warning Brock to, "Keep your partner away from me."- as Cerberus pounced to lick his cheek.

Sonny woke to a weird sort of sensation that wasn't so bad; and made him feel well…really good.

Looking around, he was confused to see that he lay on a hospital bed in the infirmary and had no memory of how that could have transpired.

He was in no pain, and wondered why he was here. He remembered his brothers had expertly removed the frag from his back. He had vague memories of their midnight celebration on the capture of Musa Ghani; and distinctly remembered Jason's declaration of getting lit. Which he took as a direct order; and made haste to follow. After that…there was nothing.

Drunk as a skunk he supposed and groaned out a quick laugh.

The florescent lights overhead made his head hurt, so he squint his eyes against the glare and through the haze made out Ray seated in the chair next to his bed, head thrown back – snoring like a Mac truck; and Brock, sound asleep in the bed nearby; Cerberus curled up by his side watching him intently.

Jason stood at the foot of his bed; arms crossed with a relieved look on his face; and a cocky sort of crooked grin that made him look young again.

"Hey Boss" he greeted; swallowed hard and asked, "What happened?" His voice hoarse and mouth dry from too much beer and whiskey.

"Well from what I gather, you didn't quite make it from the party; talking out of your head; teeth chattering. Spenser was worried about you, so carried you here to see the Doc."

Sonny quirked an eyebrow; "Spenser" he repeated; not quite believing it. Though they had made amends of a sort, he couldn't really see Spenser worried about him. They butt heads on a daily basis; and he wondered if they would ever see eye to eye on anything.

"Yeah" Jason continued. "Looks like a few of your scars there are infected and needed cleaning out. The Doc's got you on a regiment of antibiotics and you're here for a few days of R and R."

Sonny sighed in irritation. This was just what he wanted to avoid. "That Spenser", he growled. "Where is he anyway?"

Jason inclined his head down toward the side of Sonny's bed; and there Clay lay at his side; head resting on his arm – pinning it to the bed. Now that he thought about it, he could feel pins and needles pricking his fingers from the weight of the kid.

Moving toward the bed – ready to tap Clay on the shoulder, he asked, "Do you want me to wake him, so you can move your arm? He passed out about an hour ago and hasn't moved since."

Raising his hand to keep Jason at bay, he answered sincerely, "No – let him rest. It's all good." And thought maybe there was some hope for the two of them after all.

Jason pulled up a chair; nodded his assent; placed his feet up on the bed then crossed his legs. "Good" he yawned out, "Then I think I'll get some rest too." Bowing his head, Jason crossed his arms across his chest; closed his eyes and in moments the steady breath of sleep descended.

Wordlessly, Trent slipped in with two bottles of beer; handed one over to Sonny who grinned wide. Thankful for something to wet his lips; then howled softly in remembrance of Echo Team so as not to wake the rest of his family.

Thank you for reading. Please review, and let me know what you think! Also, I want to just say thank you for taking a moment to comment and review my last SEAL Team story 'From the Bottom Bunk'. Your thoughts and comments mean a lot.