Since you all asked so nicely...
I must say, I'm really liking this season...woot! Praying for season three!

Stella stirred more oregano into the sauce, tapped the wooden spoon on the side of the pot, set it aside. Tonight was Wednesday and she was free. No lectures, no appointments, no dinner meetings, no papers to grade, no assignments to go over, no emails to respond to, nothing and tonight, of all nights, was fucking Wednesday.

Not her night to have Clay.

No, tonight, and every Wednesday night, was Bravo's night to have her boyfriend all to themselves. They met at 7 o'clock at a local pub near the base and did God knew what until the bar closed. Guys only, he said but Lisa and Mandy were included, so Bravo only.

On Wednesdays, Clay either came home in a cab or was dropped off by Janine or Katie or Betty or Alana or Christ, Sonny's fling of the week, whoever the weekly designated driver was. Once, ONCE, Naima had dropped him off, breast feeding in the car while she waited for Clay to get into the apartment and facetime her so she knew he'd gotten in okay; which of course meant, Clay wouldn't go to bed until the 'little guy' was done eating and Naima could put him in the car seat to drive home.

Stella had been pissed for a week. And he'd never answered her question how the other guys had gotten home that night.

It was okay for a mom of two drag to her newborn out in the wee hours of the night to give Clay a ride home, but it wasn't okay for Stella to go pick him up. Oh no, Clay never called her for a ride. He wasn't 'allowed' to. Part of her punishment for disobeying a Jason Hayes direct order over Clay's dog-tags.

And did Clay stand up to his boss? Even try to see Stella's side? Nope. He just kissed her nose and said; 'orders, babe'.

"Hey," Clay thumped into the room. He could walk short distances without crutches by balancing on his heel but he wasn't supposed to do it. He sure as hell hadn't done it when Jason or Ray had been around. She should scold him, but didn't want to pick a fight.

Yes, tonight was Wednesday, but Stella didn't feel Bravo should get Clay this particular Wednesday.

When Bravo had come home from their last mission, the one that had gone horribly wrong, Clay had been admitted to the hospital for two days. Stella had learned what she'd been allowed to know during that time, mostly from Eric Blackburn's wife Betty, because apparently, not answering a Jason Hayes' phone call was punishable by everyone giving her the cold shoulder.

She hadn't known!

When she attempted to point that out to Janine, her usual ally, Janine had been rather cool, reminding Stella she hadn't bothered to try and return Jason's call. True, Stella hadn't, but she'd had no reason to believe the call had anything to do with Clay!

Stella frowned, glancing down at her buzzing phone; Janine. Again. That made the 3rd time in the last half hour that she'd called. Didn't the woman ever give up? Stella wavered, then hit decline. She'd call her back when this meeting was over.

Five minutes later, her phone buzzed again, this time the number was Betty Blackburn's. Stella hit decline. No, she didn't want to meet for cookies and tea. No, she didn't want to make plans for a mani/pedi. She had a job, priorities; her daily routine was not the same as theirs. Alana worked, why couldn't they understand she did as well? Eh, she'd send Betty a text later.

Janine sighed when her phone finally rang with Stella's number. She was now annoyed and tried, really tried to check her attitude when she answered.

"Stella, hey."

"What's up? I was in a meeting when you called." All three times was left hanging unsaid between them.

"Jason called you." Not a question, an accusation.

"He did, didn't leave a message."

"Stella, I'm trying with you, really trying here, but you don't make it easy. I know Clay has told you that if anyone from Bravo calls you, you answer your phone." Janine snapped, paused. "Betty even called you."

Stella blinked, a bit taken aback by the tone.

"I was in a meeting Janine." Stella replied defensively.

"They are deployed. Bravo is," Janine began.

"Clay's on base," Stella interrupted.

"It doesn't matter where Clay is! The team, which Clay is part of, is deployed. Your meeting can wait. You get up and you walk out. If you had your phone with you, it wasn't that important of a meeting."

"It's my job." She was confused, why would Janine think she'd care where Bravo was, if Clay wasn't with them?

"And Clay is supposed to be your life."

"What does Clay have to do with this?" She was beginning to suspect she really had no idea what was going on. "I'm sorry Janine, but I've had enough of being yelled at and talked down to by the oh-so-great Jason Hayes. He doesn't rule me or run my life."

"He runs Clay's. If Jason calls, you answer. It doesn't matter what he wants. If he says it's raining outside and you look out the window and see blue skies and sun, you tell him you're sad it's gloomy where he is. I get that you have a completely different social class than we do, that your colleagues exist in a setting opposite ours, but as long as you're with Clay, we aren't going away and you can be damn sure he's not leaving us."

Us. That word again. Janine quite firmly believed herself to be part of us. And Stella hadn't been accepted into that group – not yet. Didn't know if she wanted to be. Straddling the two worlds wasn't easy.

"I'm with Katie, we all are." Janine was saying. "You do realize, anything happens to any member of Bravo, whether or not Clay is with them when it happens, you need to be there for him, right? You need to know Stella."

"Katie?" Stella's mind raced, Brock? We? Who was all? Alana, Betty, Naima? "Everything okay? What happened? Is Brock alright?" Would Jason call her to tell her she was needed because something had happened to Brock? She didn't think so.

"No." Janine replied bluntly. "Do you want to come over?"

She could, she should, she would. "Yeah, yes, course." Was that why Clay had been confined to base and unable to contact her? Something had happened to Brock, to Bravo? "How's Katie, is she okay?"

"She's holding up, will be a lot better when Brock is here."

"So, Brock's okay? Are they coming home?" Janine was quiet, Stella understood. "Right, I would know if I had answered Jason's call." She sighed.

"He's in the hospital being evaluated." Janine said.

"He's hurt?"

"Jason doesn't call to say, hey, your man got a bruise."

It was Stella's turn to be quiet. But he could call to say it was raining? Right, not the point. Why then, had Jason called her?

"Has Trent called you?" She hadn't heard from Clay, but he wasn't with the team.

"Yes." She said simply. "Where are you?"

"School. I'll be there in an hour."

And when she got there, they'd told her about Clay.

When Clay had been released from the hospital, Jason had brought him home to the apartment. She hadn't even known he was going to be released. Her time at the hospital was restricted by security; she still didn't know why Clay had needed security, didn't believe he'd had, was just Jason's way of being a dick, another way for him to make her pay for some slight he perceived she'd delivered at some time, but whatever.

Jason had let himself in with Clay's key, who, hopping on one foot between Jason and Ray, had been tired and drowsy. She'd no idea anyone would come with Clay, though now, she admitted, she should have. She'd been with Clay in the hospital, knew he wasn't mobile without help. He had to keep his arm in a sling, so crutches were out and though he could bear weight on his leg, it pained him to do so.

It was the duffle bag Jason had tossed onto the couch that had her standing stupid in the hallway. Oh Jason had brought Clay home, but he'd come to stay. He'd told her before that he wouldn't allow her to take care of Clay if they brought him home hurt, and boy-oh-by, he was a man of his word. He'd told her she could either deal with it or go stay at her own apartment. When she'd looked to Clay to back her up, he'd turned to Jason, accepted the offer of his arm and taken his help to go to bed.

Stella had chosen to stay, of course she had, but living with Jason had been the hardest thing she'd ever done in her life. Well, no, that was neither accurate nor fair. When he was there, he'd ignored her, never asked her for anything, but had made himself at home. He didn't ask her to cook him dinner or breakfast, never asked her to do laundry, never argued with her over the TV, had answered her questions but not once, had he ever made her feel comfortable.

And oh, but she didn't like how he treated Clay at all. Not one bit. He was short or abrupt or impatient, gave Clay orders he fully expected to be obeyed – and they were. And didn't that just irk her.

What really annoyed her was just how well Jason knew Clay, how well he dealt with him, how well he handled him. She'd known Clay longer, thought she knew him better, but these past two weeks had proven her wrong. He knew when Clay was in pain and hiding it, knew when he was hungry, when he was going to be sick, when the medication wasn't working the way it was supposed to, knew when Clay was cold or uneasy or couldn't sleep. He knew when Clay wanted to be left alone and shouldn't be, knew when he needed help, knew when it was okay to leave him alone.

His phone always rang, he was always talking to someone, people came over all the time – all hours of the day or night, people she didn't even know. Hell, Trent just let himself in, didn't even knock – and he came daily. And if Stella had thought Clay was putty in Jason's hands…pffft, Jason had nothing on Trent.

Two weeks. It had been almost two weeks, and not once, had they left Clay alone or alone with her. If Jason had to go somewhere, someone came to stay – Ray, Trent, Eric, Sonny, Brock, Lisa, Derek. Stella had met Athan, Kenny and Karl. She had seen Janine and Betty and Naima, who had come with her kids – Stella couldn't have a colleague over for coffee, but it was okay for a baby to scream. Sure Jason, whatever.

Katie had come several times with Brock or Lisa, a couple times on her own. She'd explained when Stella had asked where Brock was, that Sonny was staying with them and to Stella's stunned amazement, Katie had no problem with it.

Hell, Alana brought Emma to babysit Clay several times between whoever was coming to take a shift and who had to leave before they got there, even though Stella had been right there. And if Stella had thought she could bully Emma, well, that little spitfire was definitely Jason Hayes's daughter.

It had been Betty who had gently scolded Stella for not going to visit Brock, had prompted her to go. It was only then that Stella began to understand why Bravo was reluctant to let Clay out of their sight. Yes, she'd heard what had happened, been told many of the details, but seeing Brock, hit home just how hard it had been for him; for the team who had not expected to find Clay with him, they'd had no idea Clay hadn't still been home in Virginia where they'd left him.

Clay cleared his throat, recalled her wandering attention. This was not going to go well. Jason had finally gone home two days ago when Trent had declared him off all meds and clear-headed, and he knew Stella was looking forward to finally being alone with him.

"Smells good."

"You're hungry?"

"Uh, bit, yeah." He sat down. "Trent backed me off the rest of the meds."

"How's your leg?" She set her teeth. Trent. Not the doctor. "Your foot?"

"Aches."

"You going out tonight?"

Clay sighed, someone, somewhere dammit, was going to give him a ride. He'd call a cab or Uber if he had to, but he was going to see Brock.

"Uh," he sniffed. "Garlic bread?" His phone buzzed, he read a text, set it aside. Ray.

"Yup." She tossed a pot-holder. "Spit it out Clay, just say it." She poured him a glass of wine.

"Yeah, I'm going." Clay accepted the glass. He'd rather have a beer, hadn't been allowed to drink since he'd been home. "Katie is designated driver and I want to see Brock."

"You've seen him." She knew where this was going and she couldn't be angry. Brock had come to see Clay every other day or so, but they hadn't had been in any mental or physical condition to talk to one another about anything more than 'how you feeling'.

Leave it to Clay to jump on the first opportunity to do so. He'd been home nearly two weeks. Monday, Jason had finally gone home, Clay was off all sedatives, antibiotics, sleeps aides, muscle relaxants, pain meds, leaving him with Advil liquid gel caps as needed and he wanted Brock, not her.

"Uh, yeah but we, uh…I probably….won't…..come home tonight."

"Need me to pick you up in the morning?"

"You know how to get to their house, right?"

She turned her back to stir the sauce. Yes, she damn well knew how to get to everyone's house. Could he same the same about her friends and colleagues?

"I do."

"I know this hasn't been easy on you….." He began but she banged a pot and he backed off.

"What? Not being allowed to be alone with you since you came home?" She flung the spoon about, sauce splattered, he handed her the dishcloth. "Your boss knowing more about how to take care of you than I do? Trent giving the orders on what you can eat, when you can eat, when you can get up, when you can take off the sling, how far you can hobble without the crutches, when you can come off the meds, when you can go out?"

"Yeah, that."

"I get it Clay, I do. They spend more time with you than I do. You always seem to get hurt or sick or drugged or left behind or taken when you're with them. What I don't get is how Jason knows things? Isn't he leading the mission when this happens to you? He has five men, don't the other four ever need him? Doesn't he have reports to write and meetings to attend? Questions to answer? Jobs to plan and plot? Does he ever sleep?"

Seem to? When the hell else would it happen? "His job is to take care…."

"My job is to take care of you, it's not on Jason." She downed her glass, poured more wine. "Doesn't Brock need him?"

Yeah, he does and Jason had been there for him. The difference was, Katie wasn't on Jason's shit list and Stella wasn't getting off it anytime soon. Between work, Brock, Clay, Alana and the kids, Jason was stretched pretty thin, so yeah, he was cranky. These last two weeks hadn't been easy on anyone.

"Of his team Stella. The mission. Anything goes south, it's on Jason to put it back on track. Why do you think Bravo is the team always sent on covert ops and only-done-in-the-dark missions? He's the best, that makes us the best, and yeah, I'm damn proud of that."

"At this cost?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" Clay sighed. "Where is this going?"

"Where do you think? You were deployed without your team, kidnapped….."

"Taken." He corrected.

"Beaten."

He was about to say 'tortured' but it dawned on him no one told her every detail so he didn't correct her.

"Admitted to the hospital, then released without telling me and for the last two weeks, you've had one babysitter after another and Jason slept on our couch and no one ever even asked me if I was ok with any of it."

Clay was quiet, the scent of dinner, that five minute ago had been appetizing, now soured his stomach. He no longer wanted the garlic bread. So, Stella wanted to pick a fight. Well, she'd have to wait. Ray would be picking him up and he'd happily take Clay for tacos.

"What do you want me to say?" Clay asked quietly. "I'm sorry? Okay, I'm sorry I came home under sedation so I could handle the flight. I'm sorry I was admitted to the hospital on IV pain meds. I'm sorry when I was released, Jason and Ray brought me home and no one called you." For that, he truly was, when she hadn't arrived to pick him up, he'd assumed she had work or class and was unavailable. In his muddled-medicated head, it hadn't occurred to him no one had bothered to tell her he was being released.

"Clay," she began.

"I'm sorry when I got here, I was medicated. I don't react well to some medications Stella, you know that. If I'd been clear-headed I would have told Jason to go home, told Trent to back off, I didn't need meds, told the guys I didn't need them here."

"Clay."

"I'm sorry I obeyed orders, I'm sorry I went with the rescue unit, I'm sorry I didn't tell Adam or call Jason or Eric. That's on me and Jason will make me pay for it. It won't happen again, trust me. I'm sorry they would have killed Sonny. I'm sorry Brock went with them. He's sorry I had to go look for him. He's sorry they took me to make him cooperate. Is this what you want to hear?"

It was, but when she did, it made her realize how petty and jealous she was being. Clay had been miserable the first week home. He'd been in pain, uncomfortable and heavily medicated. Even now, two weeks later, his leg was still swollen and bruised and he was finally able to breathe through his nose.

"No." She sighed. "I'm sorry. I'm trying Clay, really trying. I just have a hard time sharing you and they know more about you than I do. They know what you need and how to take care of you and what's wrong. Jason knows when to back off or when to bully you and Trent…."

"They don't know more about me or know me better. They just know how to take care of injuries."

"Your injuries."

"Any of us."

She tasted the sauce, called it done. She would've liked more salt, but Trent had said to limit it in Clay's food for another week. Ugh.

"It's just….Monday was…today is really the first day you've been you. Monday you took the last of your meds and yesterday Sonny was here and helped you get a shower and you were so tired, you slept all day and then today, you've either been sleeping or on the phone and now, the first time since you've been home, you'd rather spend more time with your team, than with me."

"It's Wednesday." He said as if it explained all.

It did, and it didn't. Couldn't she just have this Wednesday after these last two weeks of hell?

"I know, but Jason finally went home and no one is here to babysit you and….."

And that rankled her, Clay knew it did. He should care, and he did. But he went to dinners and conferences and meetings as her escort every single time – except on Wednesday's – she told him she needed him beside her. Hell, there were times he got off the plane, and she picked him up with his suit in the car, so she could just get over Wednesday's belonging to Bravo.

"This isn't about me." He put the glass of wine down, hadn't taken a drink, went to the fridge, got a bottle of water. "It's about Brock and the guys and needing to be in the proper head space before our next mission."

Which would come soon. He was healing quickly, always did, wouldn't be long before he was back to work on base. And it was about him. Why couldn't he see that? She could argue it was too soon for him to be going out, but he would counter he wouldn't be alone, wouldn't be driving and no one was more qualified than Bravo to watch him.

"How's Brock doing?" She asked, opening the oven door and removing the tray of garlic bread. She'd been cooking pretty much all day. Had fried the meatballs, made the sauce – though she'd cheated and used canned tomatoes, let it simmer all afternoon, now the spaghetti was ready to serve and she'd lost her appetite. How could she have forgotten it was Wednesday?

She hadn't, had just hoped Clay had, assumed Clay would stay in tonight, would want to spend it with her. She'd been wrong and here they were, in a fight.

"He'll be okay." Clay gave her a hug, she let her head lay on his shoulder. "You gotta find a way to get along with Jason, Stel. He's not going anywhere. Alana and Mandy are on him, meet them half way, okay? I'm trying to find my niche in your world, you gotta find yours in mine."

Not what she asked, but whatever.

***000***

"Ready?" Katie asked. It was going on 8'oclock. She'd had several text messages from Ray and Sonny, now one from Jason. Was or was not, Brock coming tonight. It was fine if he decided to stay home, but they needed to know because they had Clay with them and if Brock wasn't coming, they were calling it an early night. "Still wanna go?"

Since they'd come home, Brock had been quiet and content to stay home. Having Sonny around prevented him from sulking or becoming too moody. He'd agreed without complaint to counseling – like, he had a choice, it was mandatory. And Clay would start his own counseling sessions Friday, then they'd have joint sessions, then finally the entire team would sit through a session, maybe two.

"Guess." He went to change. He wanted to go, didn't think he'd want to stay until closing, but yeah, hanging with the guys, downing a beer or two, watching Sonny flirt with anything in a skirt, sure. They hadn't gone last week, Clay home but medicated and the week before that, Clay had been in the hospital.

Katie followed him back to their room. "Hey, uh…..Jason sent a text…Clay's there."

Brock paused. "He's up to it?"

"Been off all medication since Monday."

"Two days?" Brock shook his head. Too soon for Clay to be out.

"Apparently, he's Clay." Katie quoted with a smile.

Yeah, Brock pulled on a pair of jeans. He was Clay. Chased, grabbed, jumped out of a moving vehicle, captured, drugged, hurt, beaten, tortured – yes, yes, he was well aware it could have been so much worse, it didn't really help all that much to know that – and nearly left behind because no one knew he'd been there.

And that was killing Jason.

"Hey," Jason was slouched on the sofa, feet on the coffee table. Katie normally would have walked by and smacked his feet with a rolled up newspaper or magazine but she was upstairs. "Talk to me, don't shut me out. Don't do that."

Brock was silent, staring at the TV that while on, was low, Jason having turned it down.

"It hurts, I know it does. God, I'm sorry you had to go through that…I shudda known where he was, I shudda been told. Eric shudda been told."

"Not that." Brock swirled the liquor in the glass. "I'm trained for capture, trained for torture, trained to torture, to maim, to kill, to do what's necessary to achieve my goal, do my job."

"Being trained for it doesn't make it easy."

Brock shook his head. "Why Spenser? Of everyone in the entire US military, how the hell did it end up being that kid? Come on Jason! The odds? Wrapping my head around the truth…..sitting there in the dark….knowing it was him, proving it, denying it….I went from worrying about Sonny and what they wanted from me, to this is our kid, he's here, he's hurt, he's not responding, what happened, how do I help him?" He took a drink, didn't gulp the contents, it was scotch, good scotch. "Then they told me they'd drugged him…..I thought they'd knocked him out, worried about another head injury so soon after his last one but then they said tranquilizer and I forgot he even had a head, 'cause all I could think about was the last time he'd been drugged, remembered the café."

Jason was silent, there was nothing to say, nothing would make how Brock felt better except time and silent support and Jason would see to it that Brock had both.

"We took a vote, remember? Did we want to keep him? We all thought one of us would say no." Brock took a sip, swirled. "Not gonna lie, it hasn't been easy. The kid has a mouth and an attitude and is so fucking cocky, yet…no better man out there to have our backs. Trusting him, depending on him has never been the issue. Then I think, he'd gone to Charlie or Delta, their medic ain't Trent, he'd be dead. They wouldn't look out for him like we do, wouldn't know how to look after him, wouldn't always go get him, they'd follow procedure and protocol. They don't have Blackburn covering their backs." He took another sip. "And that hurts Jason."

"That's my fault." It had been a private vote; yay or nay. Jason hadn't been surprised when five yay's had been unfolded and displayed on the table. He knew his team. The five of them had been together longer as a unit than any other Seal team out there.

Brock actually cracked a grin, touched glasses with his boss. "It is." He agreed.

"What are you saying? It's too hard to have him on the team?" Jason felt a stir of unease in his belly. It hadn't occurred to him that this might break up his team. Brock was stronger than this…Clay didn't blame him for anything, didn't hold grudges. "You can't roll with him again?"

"What? NO! God no." Brock was horrified Jason had jumped to that conclusion. "He's part of the team, he's proven himself. I'm proud to call him friend. Hell, even Sonny is fond of the kid."

"You'll never get him to admit it." Jason pointed out, relaxed, sat back, downed the contents of his glass, poured another, offered more to Brock.

Brock nodded, held his glass out for the refill, so true. "It's just…..dammit Jace, I had no idea, not a fucking clue how hard it would be, not having you guys there…those hours in the room, knowing he hurt, I couldn't even offer him water and you know how he is…then, after they….they, uh, took him away and I didn't know…they wouldn't let me see him or take me to him." He met his boss's eyes. "I would have killed that goon Jason." He swallowed. "For hurting the kid like that."

Jason laid his head back, glass balanced on his thigh. Yeah, he knew. He was glad the goon was dead, Brock didn't need murder on his conscious.

"What makes it so hard is, he wasn't supposed to be there. We left him home. He was supposed to be safe. All we were supposed to do was clear a village."

Jason winced, that was on him, running on another teams intel.

"The debrief was hard." Brock continued. "They wanted details of what happened, what the rebels wanted, what they did to Clay to make me agree. Did I agree? Would I have done it?"

Jason wanted to know that too. Oh, he knew what the rebels wanted, what they did to Clay, what he didn't know was, would Brock have done it for Clay? And would Brock tell him if he asked?

"Jason, I swear to you, they didn't tell me until the night you came to get me what they wanted. They left me alone in that room in the cellar. It was dark. I didn't know the passage of time, then they brought Clay in, but I didn't know who it was….now I know they were waiting for what they were after to arrive at the warehouse. Then they wanted to wait for the shift change. Clay hadn't been taken away from me that long, maybe a couple of hours before Sonny started blowing up shit. And that was hard."

"I know." They were going to have to make more of an effort to help Trent with the kid, 'cause there would be a next time.

"Command didn't push to know what happened in the room before I knew what the rebels wanted from me." Brock chewed on his lip. "What if they do?"

And there it was. Brock's hang-up.

"But to be cleared to return to work, the therapist is going to push." Jason guessed. He swung his feet to the floor, sat up. "Let me guess, Clay acted like he usually does when he's drugged and coming out of it, or hurt, then doesn't remember any of it?" They'd had this conversation in Syria, again on the plane, but Brock had not gone into detail. He had with Sonny over the last two weeks, but still…..he kept a lot to himself.

Brock shrugged, nodded, hunched a shoulder, shrugged.

"What you tell the therapist stays there."

"Will it?"

Jason opened his mouth to assure Brock, but had nothing he could say. Because he didn't know. The therapist would report to Command and…..would it matter? And could Eric get on top of it? He knew everything, no one on Bravo kept anything from Blackburn.

"Soon as Clay is declared hale and hearty, we're putting him right back down, you know that, right?" Jason said instead, Brock looked up, eyes questioning. "Oh, his ass is gonna run 'til he pukes and we're gonna sit and watch, wait for it to happen." Jason nodded when Brock's eyes widened. "Next time he gets a call – and I don't give a fuck who it comes from – the first fucking thing he's going to do is call and tell me." Jason took a drink. "Or Blackburn, whoever he can get a hold of, but he's never doing this to us again."

Brock felt warmth flush up his neck, burn his ears. Us, not you. He liked hearing that. He'd felt so alone with Clay, the emotional weight of the kids health heavy to bear. They really owed Trent, 'cause well, yeah…not many medics would take the time to sit and work with a doc to keep the kid on his feet by finding out what meds were safe for him to take and what to do for him if he happened to throw a reaction. In their, uh, line of work, the possibility of being drugged or hurt was an everyday occurrence. He still didn't get how Clay had managed before Bravo. Kid really did have a lucky horseshoe up his ass.

"Uh, Jason, go easy on him. He didn't disobey and he sat there and took it. He sucked it up and he took it."

Of course, not all teams had their own 'team doc', no other team had a 'Clay' or a good ole medic who simply took it all in stride. There'd come a day when this team, well, broke up. Someone would retire or get promoted or get a team of their own to lead or…well, anyway, by then Trent should have Clay all figured and straightened out.

"I know." Jason patted his knee. "Not in the kid to beg for mercy. Not in him to tell you to give them what they wanted to make it stop."

"I…folded, caved, gave in, gave up….whatever…..those fucking blue eyes…I couldn't let them break his leg." Brock shuddered, he couldn't be the one to sit and watch and be responsible for the kid being maimed for life. He'd rather just have had Clay shot dead…..and what did that say about him? "Not like that."

"Of course you did. Hell Brock, everyone breaks. Clay was out of it from the pain in his arm, you said they tied him to the chair and that bent his arm. Thank God for that." Jason sat back. "Better to take a fingernail than a finger."

"He can bleed." Brock sighed. "Bleeds fast and a lot. Hell, the blood from his nose, the splatter…bleeding from his mouth, but until I knew it was from his tongue…." He took another drink. "Those fists…guy was huge…the sound of flesh on flesh, the baton on I dunno, bone? Then they took him away from me and I didn't see him again until we broke into that room."

"Maybe bleeding so much made them think he was hurt worse than he was."

Brock nodded. "Made me think that too. But when they cut him loose, he was conscious, told me not to give them what they wanted."

"But you did." Jason prodded gently.

Brock nodded. "Yeah, told them to stop, let him loose, I'd do what they wanted. If they knew about the warehouse and the guard shift change, then I bet you did too. You might not know what they were after, but you'd be at the warehouse. I knew that. Just didn't know you knew where to find me."

"We, ah, knocked on some doors." Jason grinned.

"Bet you did."

"Would it help, you sit with me, Sonny, Ray, Trent…..tell us? Maybe we can either talk you around it or come up with a way not to tell the therapist. You'll get past it Brock. You will. If you still need to talk about it to someone else, we'll find you a therapist who won't report it back to Navy, a private one you can see on your own. You need us, we'll go with you."

Brock liked that idea, both ideas, so he nodded.

"Just one more thing," he hesitated. "You need to know….."

"You would have done it." Jason said for him. "I know." He held his glass out, waited for Brock to ting his against it. "I would have to. He's our kid."

Katie dropped Brock off, told him to call when the guys were ready to start heading home. Usually the designated driver, if needed, made several trips to and from the bar because rarely, did everyone decide to leave at once. And though Brock owned a pick-up, it was frowned upon by the local police to drive drunken soldiers home in the open bed.

Mandy was just getting out of her car when Brock opened the door to the bar, so he stopped to wait for her.

"Hey there, you." She gave him a hug. "You're late too, huh? Good to see you out." She guessed it was because he hadn't decided whether or not he wanted to come, was glad he had. "Come on, I'll buy you a beer." He entered after her, running into her back when she stopped inside the inner door. "Clay's here?"

"Yeah." He gave her a gentle nudge.

"Really? Why?"

Brock knew why, but he didn't say anything. Clay wasn't one to sit around and put off what could be done today. Well, tonight. Clay wanted to talk and talk tonight they would.

"He can't drink, can he?" Mandy said as they crossed the room to join the team.

"Trent pulled him off the last of the meds Monday."

That surprised Mandy, but she let it go. "Still, that was just two days ago, wow." She pulled out a chair at the table. "Hey guys," she waved for the waitress. "What's everyone drinking?"

Clay was getting tired. The lights, the noise, the smells were killing his head. Yeah, there was no smoking in the bar, but the kitchen must be expelling smoke into the room, because something was making his eyes burn. He checked his watch, choked on his beer. Only 10 0'clock? Ha!

"Hey," Brock bumped shoulders. "Take a walk?"

"We allowed?" Clay got to his feet. Fresh air might help. Either way, he'd be glad to be away from the noise.

"Probably not." Brock put his beer down. "Won't go far, I'm sure Jason has you on a short leash."

Clay shrugged, followed Brock outside. He knew not to go any further than the parking lot and to keep the bar's front door in sight at all times. He'd best be both in sight and within shouting distance, anyone came looking for him.

"Sucks being the youngest." Clay commented, took a seat on a picnic table, feet on the bench.

"Yeah, 'cause that's the issue." Brock joined him, looked up at the sky, searched for familiar constellations, eh, cloudy or wrong time of year or too many lights, whatever.

"Feels like it." Clay said. "Always getting yelled at."

"You uh, have a habit of getting lost."

"Always in trouble."

"You have a knack for finding it," Brock agreed.

"I don't look for it."

"Still finds you."

They sat side-by-side, silent. The night air had a nip, but wasn't cold.

"I'm sorry." Brock said finally.

"No need to be." Clay responded. "Nothing to be sorry for. You didn't send me on the mission. You weren't the one who didn't tell Blackburn. You didn't know I was out there, didn't leave me out there alone. You wanna blame someone for this cast, my nose, all this, his name is Sargent Willis."

Brock cracked a grin, thought about the bar fight, was sorry he missed it. "We know." He sobered just as quickly. "No one should ever give the order for someone to patrol alone in a known hostile area where a soldier had previously gone missing."

"I didn't." Clay said. "Go off on my own, I mean. I thought they were with me, had my back."

"Yean, we know."

"They did come after me when I jumped from the truck, just they were too far away to get me before the rebels did."

"Do you remember what happened before they, uh…..well, before?"

"Some of it." Clay said. "My arm hurt, you popped my elbow back. I puked, wanted water. It was cold, the dirt was damp…" He paused. "I remember the beating," he held his left hand up best as he could with the sling. Wasn't that a bitch; keep your arm in the sling Clay; why aren't you using your crutches Clay? Duh, can't do both. "Don't remember losing my fingernails." Well, three of them. "Don't remember anything after that."

Brock paled, oh, he remembered Clay losing them. Remembered the crunch of broken toes, the thud of ham-sized fists hitting skin, the thump of the baton…

"Not your fault Brock." Clay said quietly. "A nerve agent in their hands?"

"Thought makes me sick."

"You never lost faith Jason would come."

"Will never lose faith in Jason." Brock said firmly. "I had to sit there Clay, watch it, let them…..I had no idea how far they'd go, what they would do."

"I know." Clay didn't want to cut the talk short, but he wasn't feeling all that great. "Wasn't easy, but it doesn't change anything Brock. You ever need me, Bon Jovi said it: I get that call in the dead of the night, I'll be right by your side."

"Blood on Blood, you know Bon Jovi?"

"Hey, they got like, what, 20 some albums, bound to be a good song or two." Clay teased.

Brock grinned, finally felt like everything was going to be alright. He noticed Clay was shivering, kept rubbing his head, looked at his watch one too many times.

"Who'd you come with? I'll call Katie to come pick us up."

"Uh, Ray drove. He can take me home."

"No need to cut his night short, come home with me."

Clay nodded, that had been his plan all along. He was tired, his leg throbbed and his foot ached, he was in pain and he wanted off his feet. He'd hit Trent up for something a bit stronger than Advil, since Brock was taking him home, he knew Trent wouldn't have a problem with it.

"Stella okay with it?"

"Not really." Clay grinned, slid off the table. "But you're not the problem, Jason is."

()

"What?" Ray sighed. "Jason, bro, you gotta let go. Can't hold so tight, man."

"Can't do it, can't." Jason shook his head. "Let him out of my sight, Charlie lost him, and we hadda go get him. Let him out of my sight, Stella left him alone and Trent had to go get him. Let him out of my sight, he's sent on a search and rescue mission with the fucking Marines, Thank God Brock got him." He finished his beer, set the empty bottle on the table. "Let him out of my sight while taking a walk outside a bar…"

Four chairs pushed away from the table; Ray, Sonny, Trent and Eric rose as one. Jason grinned, stood. The girls were off powdering their noses but Jason knew they would fall in line and follow as soon as they returned.

"Let's go get him before….hell, I dunno." Sonny scowled.

"Don't want to know." Ray added.

"Don't even want to guess." Eric nodded.

"Don't think we could." Trent finished. "Nothing ever goes as expected with that kid."

***END***