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love-me-a-lotta-whump · 6 years ago

Text

Twist and Shout

Fandom: SEAL Team

Words: 7,153

Synopsis: Clay is captured while on an op with the team and he has to do quite a bit of improv to get out of the situation. Things are more... complicated than everyone originally thought.

NOTE: I do not own these characters!

NOTE 2: I will soon be posting this to AO3 and FF.net! For now, enjoy this hecking long post!

NOTE 3: I can’t do anything about the post being long. I added a cut. That’s all I can do.

Clay’s ragged breaths came through his nose as he defiantly kept his mouth squeezed shut, turning his lips white under the pressure. He did all he could to keep from screaming from the beatings and cutting. He balled his fists in the restraints he was tied with. How he couldn’t break from the weak-ass rope, he didn’t know. To be fair, it wasn’t for lack of trying. In the very few times he was alone, he tugged on them even when it became painful, cutting into his wrists, turning the rope surrounding them red. When he wasn’t alone, he eyed the men surrounding him, walking around the room, kicking up the dirt under their sandals only to end up in his lungs making him cough. He listened to every word they had to say, deciding they didn’t know he could speak the language, and for that, he was thankful. They didn’t need to know.

His thoughts were interrupted by the man’s voice. “That information is worth a lot, Spenser, so why don’t you give me what I want? I won’t have to kill you.”

Clay tilted his head at the man who knew his name… speaking in perfect English… in an American accent…

“What?” He didn’t mean to say it out loud, but it was too late at that point. He, gladly, hadn’t recognized the voice.

A man turned around, smirking to the young SEAL. “It’s been a while, Spenser.”

Clay stared at him, confused. He observed the man’s shiny, jet-black hair as it was slicked back to frame his pale face. His height was the real shocker. The SEAL chalked it up to the fact that he was sitting while his captor was standing, instead of the thought that he could really be that big, because, he desperately hoped the man wasn’t that big. He watched the man’s expression turn from pride to anger as he balled his fists.

“Really? You don’t remember me?”

Clay raised a brow, looking the man up and down. He was dressed in the stereotypical Afghani wear, sandals and all. “Uh, no?” He slightly jerked his head back, almost like he was saying “Should I?”

“Bootcamp?”

Clay laughed at the implication. “There were a lot of guys in bootcamp.”

The man groaned. “Yeah, I know. You became a Navy SEAL and I became some analyst for some low-level financial company, so I didn’t get to stay with the great Clay Spenser.” His pitch turned to sarcasm around “…the great Clay Spenser.”

“I don’t remember you, man,” Clay adjusted his position on the dirt floor, ignoring the sarcasm and unsuccessfully ignoring the main overtaking his nerves. His eyes moved along with the angry man’s movements around the space in front of him. He laughed, “I guess I would if you made it.” Admittedly, that was a really stupid thing to say in his situation. Of course, he couldn’t help himself.

With a grunt, the man surged forwards, tackling the restrained SEAL. “You son of a bitch!” The man’s voice strained with the volume it produced. No matter how much Clay fought the hold, the man refused to let go, screaming the same thing over and over again.

Clay barely managed to speak through the hands on his neck, “Strike a nerve?”

The words seemed to snap the man out of it as he began to get back up from his position over the SEAL. He straightened himself back up physically and emotionally before speaking. “You can make all the sarcastic comments you want, but I’m the one standing over you while you’re tied up.”

Clay smirked. “Good for you! You’ve figured out my problem!” He continued to look around at the walls made of mud and the woven straw roof. He was far from the city he’d been in with Bravo when he’d been taken. He knew his cocky façade wouldn’t last long. Not with the pain he was in. Not with the desperation to get back to his team.

Regardless of those feelings, he wasn’t scared, and he had no idea why. His helmet was off which meant his comm was gone. Well… one of them was. He still had one communicator deep in his ear, but sadly, TOC had to know he still had it and they’d have to activate it. The problem was, he wasn’t supposed to have it, so he figured they didn’t know he did.

:::::::

“Where’s Bravo Six?” Blackburn’s voice was stern through the team’s comms.

Jason groaned. “This kid, I swear. He probably went off on his own again.”

Ray brought a hand up to his friend’s shoulder, “Hold on, man. I don’t think so.”

“And why’s that?” Sonny stepped into the conversation.

Ray gave the soldier a look of disapproval. “Remember the last op he wandered off on?”

The team exchanged worried looks before Brock spoke up. “He was-“

“Stop. We don’t talk about what happened to him, remember?” Ray interrupted. “But yeah. I don’t think he went off on his own. Not this close to that op.”

Jason paced, hating the situation they were in. Nova was one they didn’t speak of. At least, not around Clay. He had really taken Spenser under his wing, even though he had hesitated to in the beginning. The damn kid always had him feeling older and older every minute of every day. How did the kid manage to get into everyone’s heads? And how did he end up with another kid?!

“No way he’d would go off on his own this close to that op. He’s stupid but he’s not that stupid, right?” Sonny’s words ran through Jason’s head. He wasn’t sure what to think. Clay was constantly doing things he wasn’t supposed to, doing his own thing, but Nova really messed him up. Problem was, if he hadn’t gone off on his own, someone took him. If he had gone off on his own, he could be hurt and/or in big trouble. Either way, things weren’t looking good.

His thoughts were interrupted by Davis’s voice in his ear, “Blackburn says to come back to base.”

“No.” Jason brought a hand up to his ear, lowering his head to stare at his boots. He didn’t want to disrespect Davis or defy orders, for that matter, but they couldn’t just leave without their teammate. The team’s heads whipped around to look at him. “No man left behind.”

Davis’s sigh was very audible through the team’s comms, obviously overdone for the sake of telling him how frustrated and offended she was. “You know damn well we’re not saying to leave him behind. We’re just saying to get back, so we can figure this out.”

Jason looked around at his team. They’d back his play, no matter what and that was the problem. He wanted to do something stupid and reckless. He resigned, not wanting to drag them into something stupid and reckless along with him which would most likely get them in trouble right alongside him. “Fine. Five out from exfil.” His voice was monotone, yet, it showed all of his emotions- the emotions he never thought the guy could make him feel.

The team’s confusion was palpable to Jason. He said nothing, signaling the men to start moving. Everyone made the internal promise to Clay that he’d be found and rescued and the men that took him and did whatever they had or would do to him would be killed.

:::::::

“My men say your team left the city.”

“Hope so,” Clay laughed. When he saw the confusion on his captor’s face, he explained. “Bravo Three’s a real spender. He’d probably go bankrupt if he spent too much time around the market down there.”

“You don’t know when to quit, do you?”

Clay smirked. “I’ve been told it’s a character flaw.”

The man rolled his eyes. “Not your only one. Regardless, they’re leaving in the opposite direction of where we are. Seems they’re not coming for you.”

“Good. I think Bravo One’s gonna be mad at me for using his toothbrush to clean the dog’s chew-toy. He left a fish in my storage cage. Payback’s a bitch, I guess. The brass probably aren’t gonna like a prank war within the team if it gets to the levels Sonny’s been close to bringing it to.” Clay laughed on the outside while crying on the inside. While his sarcasm and stalling stayed strong, his heart shattered at the notification they were moving away from him. He held onto the sliver of hope that they were only heading to exfil for a chopper to get to him. It was a thread of hope as thin as a hair, but he had to hold onto it, because if he didn’t, he was stuck with the thought of dying out in the middle of Lord-knows-where with a guy who might or might not have been in bootcamp with him, because, honestly, he wasn’t sure.

The man stood from his desk in the corner of the room and creepily made his way towards the beaten and bloody SEAL. “My men say your team left. Flew away. They, sadly, couldn’t bring the helo down. Doesn’t matter. They flew even further from our location.”

Clay’s heart dropped to the nasty, moldy dirt floor beneath him. He kept his cocky façade up, determined to make the man reveal his plans. He said nothing, showed no emotion except for confidence in his team.

He thought back to SERE training. His instructor’s voice echoed throughout his mind, “If you have to retreat into your mind, do it. Do what you have to do to convince them that you are worthless. They know you’re not. You’re a SEAL and if they know that, that’s why they want you. But if you can convince them you’re a dumbass, meathead soldier, they’ll either put a bullet in your head or use you as bait. Either way, it’s a win. Because, your whole team are SEALs which means you have a damn good chance of making it out alive. Make them think you’ve been traumatized to a point of a catatonic state if that’s what you have to do. Do. What. Is. Necessary.”

And that’s what he did. He went into his head. Not his best idea, but, it was either that deep dark rabbit hole or the deep dark nasty-ass hut he was in with this psycho terrorist dude.

:::::::

“How many?”

“Jason, it’s not that simple.”

“Davis, it is that simple.”

“Hayes,” Her voice was hard before she remembered where he was, emotionally. Her voice softened ever-so-slightly, because, even though he was emotional and upset, he needed to show her some respect because everyone’s just as worried. “If there’s multiple floors with more guys in them, there’s no way you’ll make it out,” She leaned back in her chair, pushing Jason back, passive aggressively, while she crossed her arms.

“We’re going after him. You know that, right?” Trent sat next to her, coffee in hand. He took a sip, side-eying her.

“I know. Blackburn knows. Everyone knows,” She took the extra cup of joe from Trent, leaning forward to take a sip before setting it back down on the desk. “Problem is: How? I’m not saying I’m not in- not saying the rest of us aren’t in. I’m just saying ‘How?’”

Jason scoffed at the question. How could she ask that? They could figure out the how as they went along. What mattered the most was when and where. The ideal answer to that question was “ASAP” and “Wherever Clay is.”

Jason wanted nothing more than to run out there, guns blazing, shooting anyone and anything that dare keep him and his team from Clay. That kid was braver than any young SEAL he’d ever encountered. Not only that, but he was ready, willing and able to do what was asked of him out of a pure respect for the team and the country- not ass kissing. That was definitely rare when it came to some of those new guys. Hell, it was rare for almost all of the new guys… They always joined but had no idea they’d be asked to do things they weren’t happy to do. Clay figured that out and adapted like SEALs are supposed to. He was a good man and a damn good soldier.

“We need to move as soon as possible,” Ray sat next to her, moving Jason out of the way. When the rest of Bravo verbally agreed, she sighed as she tightened her grip on her cup.

“I can’t greenlight the extraction, guys. You know that. I would if I could.”

“Yes,” Brock inched forward in his seat across the table from her.“ But, Blackburn trusts you. If you say we need to do it, he’ll back your play. He’ll tell the higher ups that we need to do it and we’re in!”

“I-“

Cerberus whined- something he rarely does. Brock gave him a good pat on the head, scratching in the little pocket behind his jaw under his ear- the spot he loved so much.

“Dammit. Dammit, guys! Fine!” She all but slammed her laptop closed, abruptly standing from her chair to leave the TOC building, heading straight for Eric’s office. Bravo would be the death of her.

:::::::

“Y’know, I didn’t catch your name,” Clay adjusted his position on the floor, wincing at his broken ribs’ and stab wound movements he’d sustained in one of his many beatings since he’d been brought to the rinky-dink house in the middle of who-knows-where.

“Vi-“ The man caught himself. “I didn’t tell you my name. You’re not as stupid as I thought, Spenser, I’ll give you that.”

Clay laughed before wincing, again, at his painful breaths pulled in with sore lungs. “Vincent? Vinnie?” He thought for a moment, smiling at his opportunity. “Vinnie The Pooh?”

The man launched towards the young operative, bringing his balled fists to strike his cheekbone over and over until it split, bringing a warm crimson line flowing down his cheek, falling to the floor just above his ear. “Don’t call me that!” His voice was… emotional. Clay made the internal note: he’d struck a nerve. A memory? Didn’t matter what it was. He’d found a weak spot.

Vinnie The Pooh (VTP?) released his hold, stumbling back, visibly still swallowed up in anger. Clay would have been scared, but he was too damn stubborn to be. Instead, he continued to laugh. And laugh. And laugh… He couldn’t stop. Not until he realized he couldn’t. Okay, he was scared now. Was he losing his mind? Constant pain, blood loss, lack of sleep, food and water will do that to a person. Maybe he was.

“Struck a nerve?”

“No. No, you’re not talking anymore.” Vinnie The Pooh quickly took his head wrap off his head only to be shoved in Clay’s mouth while industrial tape was smoothed over it over his face, ear to ear. The SEAL coughed, desperately wishing he could get the fabric out of his mouth that felt like it was suffocating him.

Then he got it.

He needed it to suffocate him! Once the terrorists left the room, he went through his plan in his head a million times, step-by-step, though, not bothering to think of what he’d do when he got out. He didn’t know where his team was, but, it didn’t matter at the moment. He needed to get out. He’d find them somehow, but he needed to focus on primary issues. He’d focus on the big picture when he was standing in front of it.

:::::::

Vinnie the Pooh came into the room, doing his usual monologuing while Clay internally rolled his eyes as his labored breathing continued. He gasped for air through the thin balled up fabric and industrial tape. His eyes were heavily lidded as he slowly started to slump in his restraints’ hold. The wounds on his wrists protested the movement, sending signals to his brain to make it stop. His eyes slowly started to close as the seconds passed by and the rude words were spoken by his captor.

When Vinnie finally took in a breath in the middle of his long-ass monologue, he turned to see Clay, eyes closed, slumped, barely breathing. “No, no, no, no, no!” He ran up towards the operative, ripping the tape off and taking the bandana out, repeating that two-letter word over and over again. Vinnie quickly brought his index and middle fingers to Clay’s neck, feeling a slow heartbeat. The man cursed repeatedly as he undid the restraints in his attempt to keep the captive alive. “You’re not dying, yet, asshole! I still haven’t gotten the information I needed!”

The young SEAL laughed, internally, at the man. He obviously had no idea what he was doing. Clay assumed nobody else in the cell knew anything about medicine once he realized Vinnie wasn’t calling out for help. Thank God for lack of knowledge! When he felt the last restraint come off of him, he took his chance. He reached up, punching Vinnie square in the face. When the man fell backward onto the floor unconscious, Clay quickly thanked God for his lucky blind punch placement and executed the rest of his plan, grabbing the man’s side-piece and the key to the surprisingly sturdy door.

Running through the hideous house, he shot any hostiles that got in his way. When he made it to the door, he was punched in the back and stomach. At the same time... He was, sadly, familiar with the feeling. Bullet. Great… He was now out of ammo and he had two rounds either through or inside his body.

Luckily, for him, his adrenaline ran so high that the pain wasn’t there, yet. He turned and shot at the man, taking him out with one round. Clay didn’t hesitate to run. He knew he only had so much time before the pain would show itself and he knew he was losing a lot of blood with the feeling of it flowing down his abdomen and soaking up into his shirt and pants. A tourniquet was out of the question, sadly. That was, unless he wanted to lose half of his body… So yeah, no, that wasn’t an option.

He ran as fast as he could as his intense senses filled his mind. The sound of his pant legs rubbing together, the sound of his arms rubbing against his bare torso, the smell of poppies, the sight of the silhouette of mountains ahead of him with the city giving off a slight glow…

He weighed his options as he ran for his life, knowing he hadn’t eliminated everyone after him.

His thoughts were rudely and painfully interrupted by the moment he dreaded from the second he made it out of the door of that house. His adrenaline was wearing off. He closed his eyes and pressed on, one foot far in front of the other in a desperate sprint for the city. He knew he’d be in danger, but, he had to try something. TOC wasn’t turning his comm on and he was injured. All he knew was, he had to find a sympathetic family willing to help him. Not very likely, he’d have to admit, but he was desperate and damn, it was starting to hurt!

…….

After what felt like an eternity, he made it to the outskirts of the city… okay, it was more of a small town than a city, but still… He took a deep breath as he slowly and painfully took his boots, socks, and pants off.

“You got one shot to get this right.” His voice was a quiet whisper to himself. He thought about what could happen if he chose the wrong house, what would happen if he knocked on the wrong door. He’d either end up in another one of those dinky dirt houses or he’d be in their government’s prison. Either way, he wasn’t a fan of the outcome. Another round of torture wasn’t an option.

He gathered himself, pushing his fear back and his desperation forward. He laughed- something he hadn’t thought he’d do for a long time. The lessons his dad would drill into his head about observation actually paid off. Took about twenty years, but, who’s counting?

Choosing the house whose door he’d knock on wasn’t the problem. It was the actual knocking part. He mumbled his fearful thoughts aloud as he quickly maneuvered his way to the door through the small town. He knocked weakly, hoping to let the neighbors sleep. His panicked mind desperately wanted to beat on the door as loud as possible, desperate to get his injuries fixed and to feel, at least, slightly safe.

The sound of bare feet tapping against the tile floors got louder and louder with every passing moment. His mind over-exaggerated the noise, making it sound as loud as gunfire in an enclosed space without ballistic headphones- a sound he was all too familiar with.

“If you’re bad, shoot me where I stand. Quick and painless.” He whispered to himself. His mind started to take attendance of the class of pain. Exhaustion, pain, blood loss and malnutrition were all present as joy, happiness and hope were all absent. What a night.

The large, heavy wooden door slowly cracked open to reveal an old man in sleepwear. Clay dropped to his knees, wishing he could ignore the agonizing pain. He brought his hands together to signal a desire for peace and refuge. The man spoke, ordering Clay to stand in broken English. The SEAL slowly stood. The lack of speed was partially due to fear, though, partially due to weakness.

He fed the old man a story about traveling to their country and “apparently getting the wrong guide”. He then told the man his “guide” beat him and robbed him along with a few friends after they restrained him in the back of their vehicle. His improvised explanation of his escape was Oscar-worthy, including how he got shot twice. The old man’s face seemed riddled with pity once his eyes had met the two GSWs. He seemed to be understanding, and before Clay knew it, he was laid on their couch, being treated by the house servant girls. The man was rich. Not only did the numerous servants tell him that, but the overall size of the house, décor, and clothing they all wore.

He hadn’t noticed it before that moment, but, he was in the wrong house. One of the worst houses to be in in the entire country because that was how things went for him.

:::::::

“Guys!” Davis shouted across the large room TOC was set up in. All of Bravo shot up out of their seats, running over to where she sat.

Sonny plopped down in the seat next to her. “Find him?”

She smiled. “Yup!” Before she could say anything else, an alert popped up on her screen, above the drone view showing the house Clay was in. “Oh.”

Jason stepped forward, reading the notification. His heart dropped to the floor. “He’s in that house.” Bravo One paced. Something bad had to be happening to Clay. No way he’d go to that house by choice. The guys who took him must have brought him there. But why? Why would they risk bringing him into the town?

Brock paced right alongside Jason with Cerberus right next to his feet, pacing as well, though he didn’t know that’s what he was doing. It’s the thought that counts, right? Dogs and their unintentional moral support. “We’re still gonna get him, right?”

Davis closed the alert before crossing her arms, staring at the birds-eye-view of the house.“Brock… Guys…”

“I know.” Jason sat on an equipment box, petting an unknowing, cheery Cerberus.

Ray, who hadn’t seen the alert, looked around the table at the reactions. He gave a look to Trent who shrugged. Helpful, buddy, thanks! “What?”

Davis looked down to the floor, not wanting to see his face once she answered. “It’s the Major General’s manor.”

Ray adjusted his stance, tightening his crossed arms, making a vein in both of his arms pop out. “No, it’s not.”

The room was silent aside from computers beeping and Cerberus’s paws tippy-tapping on the floor. The heavy emotions were so thick, they could be cut with a knife.

“No, it’s not!” Ray sat next to Jason, visibly trying to soak it all in. “Guys…”

Sonny stood, knocking a few papers off the large table. “Dammit!”

After receiving a paper to the face as he walked into the room, Lt. Blackburn questioned the SEAL, “Quinn?”

“He’s in Kharan Yelsid’s manor,” Davis answered for him.

“No, he’s not.” Eric crossed his arms, coming closer to the group of soldiers.

Ray interjected, bringing a tired hand to his eyes, “Been there, done that.” The room fell silent.

“You’re still going,” The team’s heads snapped over to the Lieutenant.

“Do what?” Sonny leaned forward in his chair with a raised brow.

“Eric, you’ll…” Davis balled her fists. The situation was too much.

“Forget about it.” He started to leave the room before throwing one last thing over his shoulder.

“Target package. Then gear up. You’re getting Spenser back tonight.

:::::::

“I am afraid we have no pain pills.” The older servant woman cleaned up the limited medical supplies off the floor next to the couch Clay lay on, half asleep. She stood, turning to make her way to the kitchen before tripping on the coffee table, causing a glass to turn over. The glass-on-glass sound filled the room as the tea from inside steadily poured out. Clay shot up off the couch, groaning, yet squaring up, ready to fight.

His heart raced as he looked around the room. The stress his wounds were caused started to get to him and he put a protective hand over them. The bandages were marginal, at best, but appreciated. They, luckily, oriented him. He felt awful for the way he seemed to scare her, but, given the circumstances, he had to recognize the fact that he just couldn’t help but be a little overprotective of himself.

The woman quickly raised her hands up to placate the soldier. “You are safe. Okay. Okay?” Her soft, accent-heavy voice grounded his panicked thoughts. He looked in her eyes, hoping to calm himself. He didn’t feel safe, and he wouldn’t until he got back to Bravo, but it was as close as he was gonna get. At least for a while.

“How long have I been ou-asleep?” Dammit. Civilians don’t say “out” they say “asleep”. That was it. She’d know he was a soldier and they’d kill him. He knew he was being paranoid, but, a little bit of paranoia in his line of work kept you alive. Given his condition at the time, he allowed it.

“Two hours.” She visibly calmed once he sat back down. She lowered her hands as he slowly sunk down in the cushions with a wince. GSWs don’t heal fast. Sleep and a lack of pain pills really take their toll.

“Either too long or not long enough.” He mumbled.

“What?”

“Sorry. I either slept too long, staying here being a burden to you, or I didn’t sleep long enough to heal, some.” His lie was, thankfully, bought. He thought it through, and, he needed to take the risk, “I need to find a way to get back to my country. My family’s probably worried.”

She set the medical supplies on the table. Not yet trusting her, he watched every movement she made. Why didn’t she say anything? What wasn’t she telling him? He needed to be alone. “Can I use your bathroom?”

She nodded, pointing down a hallway. “All the way on the right.”

He slowly stood, keeping a hand on his torso, thanking her sheepishly as he started down the long hallway. He had to get that secondary comm working. He had to do something, since apparently, TOC didn’t know he had it.

:::::::

The team went over their target package in TOC, going over every little detail needed to get Clay back. An hour went by and they were half-way done going through it. The problem was that, with every passing moment, they became irritable, only wanting to get their teammate back. That wasn’t good. Irritable and antsy SEALs don’t make for good company. Anybody who’d dealt with them would agree.

“Guys…” Eric spoke up, “I can tell you’re itching to go, already, but…”

Jason knew exactly what he was about to say. It wasn’t an option. “Don’t. We go tonight.”

Blackburn sighed, running a tired hand over his face and then through his hair, “Jason, I don’t know. I want him back, too, but daylight’s not too far off.”

“Tonight.” The master chief was adamant. Normally, he’d never have spoken to his superior like that, but, it just wasn’t the time to beat around the bush or sugarcoat his words. Clay was either badly injured, being badly injured, running for his life or unknowing of why his team left him. Geez, they left him. They left their teammate… Screw protocol; they should have stayed.

---

Another hour drudged by and they were finished going through the target package.

The team geared up and headed out for the helipads, ready to get Clay back. Before they could step on the aircraft, a tech came running up after them, yelling their way, telling them to wait.

Out of breath, the tech stopped in front of the impatient SEAL Team. “There’s a piece... of equipment... missing from the log. It’s... from y’all’s... equipment storage.” His desperate breaths were dragged between words.

Sonny stepped from behind Jason towards the tech. “You stopped us for that? Kid, I’m gonna-“

“Sonny, stand down.” Jason pushed his friend back before motioning towards the young soldier tech, telling him to keep speaking. If it was something that’d take too long, he’d tell the kid to wait until they got back. If it was a quick fix, they’d fix it. No problem.

“That’s cool. Can he sit and roll over, too?” The tech pushed everyone’s patience. Sadly, none of them could really do anything, as said tech was under different authority.

“Say something, like that, again and I’ll let him do whatever he wants to you.” Jason was growing impatient. Don’t ask for a damn favor then be rude about it.

“Sorry. It’s a secondary earpiece. I need Bravo Six to hand his in. Which one of you is Bravo Six?” He looked around at the team, seeing no raised hands or stepping forward. The team exchanged hopeful looks before all bolting off towards TOC.

They practically bust the door off its hinges, startling everyone inside. Cerberus lead the pack inside, with Jason right behind him. “Davis!”

She jumped in her seat before spinning in the chair to face them. “What’re you doing?! Aren’t you supposed-“

“To be on a helo? Yeah, we are. Not the point,” Sonny interrupted. She’d make him pay for interrupting.

“Clay still has his secondary earpiece in.” Ray stepped in.

“That means I can activate it and talk to him!” Davis quickly got to work, typing away on her computer.

“Well get to callin’!” Sonny plopped down next to her. “I need a beer.”

The noise of the call connecting rang through the room before stopping as quick as it started. “TOC to Bravo Six. Copy?”

Nothing. Everyone held their breaths, desperately hoping for an answer.

“Repeat: TOC to Bravo Six.”

“Bravo Six to TOC... copy,” Clay’s voice came through, whispered and shaking.

“We know where you are. Coming to extract.” Davis sighed. “We’re bringing you back.”

:::::::

Clay stepped into the bathroom, quietly closing the door behind him as he gently felt around his bandaged torso. The wounds burned like Hell, but he chose to ignore it as best he could. Was it supposed to feel like that? Last time he checked, gunshot wounds didn’t feel like that. He’d know. To be fair, though, it’d been a minute since he’d been shot.

“TOC to Bravo Six. Copy?”

He looked around the room. Seeing nothing, he wrote what he’d heard off as an audio hallucination from the pain from his wounds. If only it were real. He really needed a win. He couldn’t stay there one more-

“Repeat: TOC to Bravo Six.”

Holy crap! It wasn’t a hallucination! “Bravo Six to TOC, copy,” His relief was readable in his tone. His voice broke as he alerted them he was alive and not-so-well.

“We know where you are. Coming to extract.” He listened to her sigh. “We’re bringing you back.”

“Yeah, you can’t take equipment home with you, kid. Trust me, I’ve tried.” Sonny chimed in. “You’re gonna have to return your military-grade sex doll, bud.”

Clay grabbed at his wound, again, as he quietly laughed. “I’ll remember that, Bravo Three. I’ll return your six, for you, if you want.” He winced at the intensity of the wound’s burning. “Might wanna hurry. I’m injured. Two GSWs, possibly a stab wound, a broken rib, two cracked ribs, a cracked orbital bone and Lord-knows what else."

“They’re on their way.”

Footsteps were heard through the call, making Clay assume it was the team running out of the room for a helo to get to him. What a beautiful sound. The only thing that would make it better was the sound of a helicopter outside.

“That’s not the only problem.”

“Would the other problem happen to be the fact that you’re in an official’s manor?” Davis’s sarcasm was appreciated.

“That’d be it. This has all been much appreciated, but, I have to go. I’ve been in the bathroom for too long. They’ll get suspicious. I won’t be able to talk to y’all but updates sound great.”

The two silently acknowledged what he’d said, opting to be silent for as long as possible while he was so physically, and to be honest, emotionally compromised.

The young SEAL left the room, heading down the hallway towards the couch, only to be stopped by a quick, agonizing burning pain where his GSWs were, causing him to double over, bringing his arms around his torso with a loud groan. The eldest servant woman returned to her charge, guiding him over to the couch once more. She left the room once she saw her boss enter the room.

He spoke to her in Arabic, making Clay so happy he spoke the language. Although, he was displeased he knew the language once he heard what the man had to say.

“What poison did you use?” The man spoke quickly, making it nearly impossible for Clay to mentally translate.

“You have two hours.” She answered him just as quick. She seemed… hesitant. Clay chalked it up to a slight bit of empathy for him- something he’d have to use to get out of the situation.

“More than enough time. Good.” The foreign superior came towards the soldier with a knife he’d gotten from the kitchen, wearing a large smile on his face.

The young SEAL, frustrated, knew what he had to do. He had to swallow his pride. He already had to, some, by going up to the door mostly naked, but he’d have to really dig deep for this one.

“Please! I don’t know anything! I just got the wrong guide!” The tears flowed freely in an ugly sob.

The superior laughed at the performance, bringing the knife to Clay’s throat. The SEAL stilled, shaking at the thought of what the man wanted to do. Finally. He could let his fear show. He continued the little show with some heavy sobbing, though the pain had a little part in making the tears flow. The superior seemed to believe him, a little bit. He fed Kharan the same story he had to the old man who answered the door. He added how he had a wife and daughter at home in the US, and how he “just wants to make it home to them”.

Yelsid backed away from a trembling Clay, keeping a hold on the knife. He slowly sat in the chair on the opposite side of the coffee table from the couch. He motioned for Clay to sit up straight. Misunderstanding, the young SEAL started to stand, startling Yelsid. “Sit down! Sit up!” He, once again, obeyed. When the two finally calmed down, satisfied that the other wasn’t going to try anything, the tension released- if only a little.

The two stared at each other for what had to be centuries. Yeah, they’d both be dead if that were the case, but it was a really long time, okay? Clay started to feel the poison affecting him as it ran through his veins. He didn’t have long.

Kharan seemed to take notice of the soldier’s behavior. “You haven’t much longer.”

Instead of saying something sarcastic, like he very well could, he opted to keep the show going. “Please. You have to believe me. I’m just-“

Yelsid stood, hands and knife waving with every word. “I do not have to do anything! You do!”

Clay’s head jerked back, slightly, as a sign of question. He agreed, though. He did have to do something. He had to get the Hell out of Dodge. He examined the room as quickly as he could, thankful as all-get-out that Yelsid hadn’t noticed that was what he was doing. “What do I have to do? Please; what do I have to do to show you I’m telling you the truth?” He wasn’t going to make it much longer. The poison was affecting his mind and, frankly, the pain was getting to a point where he was on the verge of screaming.

“Do you have a picture of them?”

Clay was so happy he asked that question. He was all too ready for it. “I-I do, but, the people that robbed me, they took my wallet. It was in there.”

“They took your proof?” Kharan’s tone was not appreciated. It sounded a lot like disbelief. “What did they look like?”

Clay laughed, internally. Such good, easy questions. “They all had long beards except for one. They all wore head wraps except for the one with the short beard.”

Yelsid came right back with another question, “How many?”

“I-I don’t-I don’t know. I couldn’t count, I was just trying to get away,” Kharan seemed to believe him, some. A good bit, in fact. Didn’t matter. The poison was starting to do its job and Clay was slipping. Slow and painful death. Not how he wanted to go. It was like the poison was burning him from the inside out. He groaned with the internal heat. He had one last shot. “Please.” His voice shook through the drawn-out word. The tears were more than real. He let his emotions take hold, making the tears flow even faster and his heart rate soar. The poison was working faster and faster with every rapid heartbeat. He didn’t want to die. Not that way. Not there.

“Hmm.” Yelsid took a syringe out of his pocket before standing. He slowly walked over to Clay, who was shaking from the pain. His groans became more drawn out and louder with every passing moment. They were about to turn into full-blown screams if he didn’t get that antidote soon. Kharan stuck the needle into Clay’s sweaty neck, placing a finger on the top.

“On the ground!”

Kharan moved back quickly, needing no more than those three words from multiple men holding very large guns. The men moved through the room, swiftly, as one made his way to Clay. “Hey, kid, you okay?” Ray!

Clay tried to answer, but words wouldn’t come out. Only screams. Jason ordered Brock and Trent to keep their guns trained on Kharan while he and Sonny went over to investigate alongside Ray. “The Hell is happening to him?!”

Between screams and breaths, Clay got one word out. “Antidote.” His shaking hand came to point at the syringe.

Ray looked back to Jason, eyes questioning. “Boss?”

Jason cringed at the strangled screams coming from the soldier. He couldn’t listen to it anymore. “Do it.” After getting worried looks from Sonny and Ray, he pressed on. “Do it. It’s a risk we have to take. Listen to him…”

Ray’s shaky, unsure hand went to the syringe, pushing the antidote into Clay’s bloodstream. A few moments passed, and the screams stopped. The pain was very much still there, but, they were able to keep him quiet as they picked up the bruised and battered SEAL to bring him to exfil.

:::::::

“-up. She put the lime in the coconut, drank ‘em bot’ up. She put the lime in the coconut, drank ‘em bot’ up.” Clay awoke to the sight of Sonny dancing around the room with Naima Perry’s hands in his. She gracefully moved around as Sonny’s choppy, and honestly comical, movements followed right behind. The rest of Bravo laughed as they watched on, unknowing of Clay’s awakening.

The young SEAL let it go on for a few more minutes before speaking up. “Can’t believe you’re okay with Sonny courting your wife, Ray.” Everyone’s heads snapped over to the hospital bed in the middle of the left wall.

“Hey, man!” Blackburn was bedside in an instant. “How you feeling’?”

“Not great, but better than I was back there.” He sat up in the bed, slowly. A hushed groan accompanied every single movement made. Hell, the thought of moving made him hurt all over. As per usual, a bright idea came to mind. “Hey, Sonny?”

“What?”

“Can you get me something from the cafeteria?”

“Why would I do that?”

“It’s just… I can’t do it myself. I’m kinda stuck in this bed for a while. I kinda thought my teammate would want to help me out?” His tone was innocent but there was no innocence in his intentions.

“Kiss my ass, kid. I ain’t no candy striper.”

Everyone stared at Sonny, some holding back bursts of laughter. Davis spoke up, “I’ll do it. I understand what you’ve been through was rough. I, personally, care about the team.”

“I care! Just not about him.”

Brock stepped in, “She’s not saying you don’t care, man. Just that you care less.” Cerberus let out a tiny bark before hopping up in the chair next to Clay’s bed, resting his head on the injured soldier’s thigh to receive, most-deserved, pats on the head and scratches behind the jaw.

“They’re right.” Clay had to admit, he did seem to care less. Even though everyone knew otherwise.

“Oh, so the dog gets a vote, now?” Sonny crossed his arms and adjusted his stance to show questioning.

“Since when does Cerberus not get a vote?” Ray laughed. “He runs this team!”

Jason raised his plastic cup of hospital-less-than-quality Sprite. “Better job than I ever did.” The master chief laughed. “Seriously, though, Sonny. Never question the dog.”

“Never,” Clay said, continuing to pet him, feeling the soft, silky coat underneath. Damn, Brock, you take good care of him. Taking all of it in, he repeated himself for emphasis. EMPHASIS! “Never.”

NOTE: I referenced Beverly Hills Cop in this. Lemme know if you find it? <3

#tas #twist and shout #tns #my fanfic #my writing #SEAL Team #clay spenser #jason hart #ray perry #sonny quinn #dita the hair missile #cerberus #brock #trent #davis #eric blackburn

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