One of the best things about being rescued by a vessel with a complement of over a thousand was that there was a decent chance of getting some clothes that fit. Jonas Blane was not the tallest or the largest man on board.

He was not, however, about to leave his man alone, even with friendlies. He'd sent the other three off for a hot shower and dry clothes, intending for one or more of them to replace him at Grey's side until they could secure that damn memory card. Blane had commandeered a blanket to throw over his own shoulders and had substantially stopped dripping fresh Aegean seawater onto the floor of sick bay, watching as the medics worked on the limp body of Charlie Grey.

Maybe not so limp.

"Hey, watch it! Let the damn anesthetic take effect!" The words were mumbled through swollen lips but no less heartfelt.

"Get the mask over him, seaman." Grey's words became muffled, and Blane wasn't about to swear that he didn't hear a 'that'll shut him up' from the chief medical officer doing the minor surgery. Metal clinked against metal, and the doc pulled something small and bloody from some place inside Grey that it hadn't belonged. Another clink, and the memory card ended up in a small metal dish, another seaman doubling as a surgical nurse wiping it down with gloves and a couple pieces of gauze.

The doc looked over his mask at Blane. "That what you're waiting for, sergeant?"

"It is, sir. I'll take care of that." Blane reached for the dish with item that Grey had risked his life to smuggle out.

The seaman hesitated. "Sir, the captain seemed to think that he—"

"This is not the captain's mission, seaman." Blane kept coming.

"Sir, you have to stay out of the sterile area—"

"Sergeant, this is my operatory, and you will stand back—"

"Doc, his pressure's dropping!"

"Shit," the doctor swore, turning back instantly. "Open up the IV. Give me some numbers, Joe."

"Ninety over fifty, doc. Eighty four over forty. Crap, I'm only getting sixty palp, doc."

"Sinus brady."

"Starting a second line, large bore."

"Give him an amp of epi, Joe. He's decompensating. Increase his O2 to one hundred percent. Hang some saline in that second line."

Blane grabbed the dish from the seaman who, relieved of his first burden, ran to fetch whatever items the doctor was demanding.

"Tach'ing away at one twenty, doc. Pressure's up to seventy over thirty."

"Doc?" Talk to me, doc. Tell me my man is going to be all right.

The doctor heard the unspoken words, focused on that instead of the disputed memory chip. "We're getting him back." He raised his voice. "He's bleeding somewhere inside, and I don't have the equipment on this boat to tell where it's coming from." He came to a decision. "I'm calling for air transport, sergeant. Germany has the closest base to here with the right equipment."

Gerhardt came in on the end of that dire pronouncement, toweling his hair, followed by Brown and Williams, neither of whom needed to towel what little hair they had. Gerhardt frowned. "Top?"

Blane pressed the dish with the precious memory card into Gerhardt's hands. "Don't let that out of your sight. I'm going to go see if I can't hurry things up a bit for the good doctor."

"Hey."

Grey got the distinct feeling that there was someone leaning over him. Contrary to the last time someone leaned over him, this time there was no smell of unwashed body odor. There was some antiseptic in the background, something smelling like ammonia beyond that, but all in all pretty clean. Big plastic smell all around.

He was lying on something fairly comfortable, too. Warm—how long had it been since he'd felt warm? Seemed like forever.

Felt like someone had scooped out his insides and replaced them with—nothing. Great big empty space where his guts ought to be. Lots of little pinpricks of pain, couple in his arm, bigger one in his leg. Face felt twice as large as usual.

Eyes not working too well. Too bright in here; hurt to open his eyes. Felt good just to lie here and not move. Grey recognized the don't care sensation of morphine. Whole world of hurt around here, morphine takes it away and locks it up somewhere safe for a little while. Great stuff.

"Hey, Sleeping Beauty."

He knew that voice. "Hector?" Words came out mumbled. Lips hurt when he tried to move 'em.

Chuckle. "Welcome back, bro. I thought you were going to sleep the whole way home."

"Home?" There was something distinctly wrong with that statement. Last thing Charlie remembered was getting cut open on the sub that hauled his ass out of the Aegean…

Crap. That explained the ouch so high up on his leg that threatened to make him swear off sex. That damn memory card.

Williams seemed to understand his confusion. "Top pulled some strings, got you transferred to Germany real quick so that they could sew you back together again."

"Not…in Germany…" There was a hum all around him, something that didn't fit with being in a hospital.

Once again, Williams figured out what his thoughts were. "Top took one look at the intel you hauled out of Georgia, and that was that. He got on the horn with the colonel, who contacted the geniuses over in the State Department. Next thing we know, we're getting an all expenses paid trip back home with a fighter pilot escort. Bro, they want to talk to you."

"Me?"

"Yes, you, bro. Somebody's already talking about a few policy changes in the region based on your intel. You're a stinkin' hero, bro." Williams took a look at some of the machinery that Grey was hooked up to, seemed to like what he saw. "Go back to sleep, bro. I'll tell you about this again when you wake up. We'll be in D.C. next time."

"Next time?" Yet another theme that he wasn't comprehending.

"Yeah, Charlie." Another soft chuckle. "This is the third time I've explained this to you, bro; we've been in the air for six hours. Maybe next time when you wake up, you'll remember."

The talking head on the TV moved on to foreign affairs. "In an unrelated story today, the American ambassadors to both Greece and Turkey offered an apology for a United States submarine that entered the Aegean Sea without authorization. No one was injured in the incident, and no shots were fired," the talking head reported. "The State Department tells us that a simple navigation error was responsible for the incident. When we come back, we'll hear from our Senior Correspondent in Washington about pork barrel spending."

Every man there had broken off to concentrate on the news blurb and then, as one, they deliberately resumed their conversation. Not one mentioned the thought that ran through each mind: no one was going to admit that a dozen or so pirates were now resting on the sea bed floor, and one Andre Zelinko was currently being 'de-briefed' in an unknown location.

They were in the Blane household, gathering over a good meal and to check on their buddy. Molly Blane, hearing about how Charlie Grey had fallen while attempting to pull down a crate of forms off a tall shelf, had insisted that her husband's fellow soldier move in for a few days to recuperate. It had been a bad accident, Jonas had told her, with another shelf falling on top of the man.

It wasn't just Molly who insisted on helping, but the rest of the wives as well, bringing over soup and ferrying the man to rehab services. Annie too had dropped in for the last two days running, once with and once without Hector.

"Hey, I'm fine as long as I don't move," Charlie protested, his mouth full of lasagna. "Molly, you didn't have to do this. I got a place."

"Nonsense," Molly smiled back at him. "What was I supposed to do, let you fade away to nothing with only Hector to look after you? The man goes to the office every day."

"Besides, she cooks better than I do." Hector's mouth too was filled.

Molly ladled more salad onto Hector's plate, offering the dish to Tiffy as well. "Couldn't prove it by this meal. Annie brought the lasagna."

"Thanks, Annie." Charlie followed her every move, relieved when she didn't seem to notice. Annie sat down beside Hector on the sofa, grinning as she plopped another slice of garlic bread onto his place. They seem happy together. That could have been me and Annie, if Hector's beeper had gone off that day instead of mine…

"To the good cooks that we come home to." Jonas Blane lifted his glass in an impromptu toast. "May they forever prepare our meals."

"Here, here," Bob Brown echoed, his arm around his wife Kim's waist, bestowing a kiss on the top of her brown hair.

"Where, where?" she echoed, smiling up at him, listening to the groans come out from everyone around. "Annie, that's a lovely pin you have. New?"

Annie dimpled. "Hector gave it to me," she confessed.

"Somebody outside the base was selling them," Hector said carefully. "Roadside stand sort of thing."

"It's beautiful," Tiffy told her. "Don't ever get married, 'cause he'll stop bringing you gifts."

"Hey! I was gonna," Gerhardt protested, thinking of the scarf he'd picked up as cover in the tourist shop, the one that had somehow disappeared when they returned the Athena to its owner. He and Brown had made a side trip while Grey was undergoing surgery in Germany, arranging for a chopper to drop them back onto the yacht in the Aegean and then sailing it back to its harbor. He'd meant to get something for Tiffy and his daughters in Athens, but the time slipped away and they really weren't supposed to do stuff like that…

They both had the same taste, Charlie realized, he and Hector. The pin looked very similar to the one that he'd stuck in his travel pack that had been left behind on the train from Rize to Istanbul, the pin that Charlie had intended to give to Hector to give to Annie. Not ostentatious but with its own sense of attractiveness, something that struck you, turned away, then made you turn back to look at it again. Just like Annie.

Looking at them sitting next to each other, looking into each other's eyes with newfound love, Charlie suddenly felt very tired. He leaned back in the overstuffed chair where Blane and Brown had placed him, wishing that he had the strength to get up and take his pain somewhere where he didn't have to look at them, wishing not for the first time that he could find someone as great as Annie for himself. Hector was his brother. Hector had just saved his life. Charlie was happy that the two of them had found each other. Charlie told himself that he was glad that he'd introduced the two of them to each other. Hector deserved the best. Annie was the best.

Molly caught the movement. "Jonas," she said quietly.

Blane immediately came to his feet. "Getting late," he told the crowd obediently. "Time for all good little heroes to be in bed."

Kim looked at her watch. "Goodness, is it nine o'clock already? The babysitter will be wondering what happened to us."

Annie came over and deposited a kiss on top of Charlie's head. "You take it easy," she whispered, her voice sending a thrill through too many parts of him. "I'll stop by and check on you tomorrow."

Charlie forced a smile for both of them, for Annie and for Hector. "Sure thing. See you tomorrow."

Jonas and Molly closed the door on their guests, Molly moving off to stow the food in the kitchen.

Jonas hooked an arm under Charlie's, helping him to his feet. "Come on, hero," he repeated. "Been a long day."

Yeah. A long day. A mission filled with secrets.

The End.