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The chopper swiftly landed at the airport and the whole team got off and moved to the C17 waiting for them. Davis and Ridgeway, the CIA agent, were standing at the back door, hurrying the team to get on. The mission was almost complete.
Clay was limping and Sonny and Trent were supporting him, holding Clay around his waist and he put his arms around their shoulders.
Brock was holding a piece of gauze on his forearm.
When they made it inside, Clay took a flash disk out of the pocket of his uniform and handed it to Ridgeway.
“Jackpot secured.”
“Good job, Bravo One,” Ridgeway said.
“Uuuh, I think you should sit down before you fall,” he exclaimed when Clay swayed on his feet.
“Exactly,” Trent – the team medic – said and gently pushed Clay into the seat. “We need to take a look at the leg.”
“Just take care of Brock,” Clay said.
Trent shrugged. “Copy that, boss. But you are the next one. You can’t run away from me.”
The plane took off; Clay was still sitting on the seat, his eyes closed.
Sonny nudged him. “Want some?” he said, offering a bottle of water and an ice pack to him.
Clay opened an eye and tiredly grabbed the ice pack and put it on his thigh.
When Trent approached Clay, he just asked “Brock ok?” without opening his eyes.
“Yup, needed just a few stitches. Now it’s your turn, Clay. Could be more comfortable on the gurney.”
“No.”
Trent glared at him.
“Ok, but no gurney, just the hammock,” Clay conceded.
Sonny and Trent pulled him up and Clay – surprisingly – let them help him into the hammock.
Clay took off the pants of his uniform. “Check whatever you want but don’t wake me up,” he said. “I had to go over so many AARs with Ridgeway before the spin-up while you lot were still sleeping.”
“No bleeding, but the bruises are already forming and they are giant,” Trent said after carefully checking and prodding Clay’s leg.
“Yeah, the tango must have had metal boots or something,” Clay agreed.
“You should take some painkillers, it will be really painful over the next few days and given uhm…” Trent trailed off.
“-how messed up the leg already is; you can call a spade a spade, Four,” Clay followed.
“Well… so, I’ll bring the painkillers and a new ice pack.”
Trent took a pill out of his med bag and returned to the hammock; Clay accepted the pill and swallowed it.
“Why are you laughing?” Clay suddenly asked Sonny who had been lingering at Clay’s hammock.
“Nothing, I’m just enjoying that for once our fearless team leader – and by that I mean you, Blondzilla – is cooperating and not protesting when Trent suggests something.”
“Figured that’s the only way if I want you to let me sleep.”
Sonny and Trent were discussing the latest mission for a few minutes in a low voice and when they looked at Clay again, he was sleeping.
“Well, I’ll draw inspiration from Clay and will take a nap too,” Trent said.
“We have at least 10 hours before landing, enjoy,” Sonny grinned.
“Please, try to stay injury-free, at least when we are outside the battlefield,” Trent announced dramatically to his teammates.
Sonny took a blanket from a box and covered Clay with it. Clay was slightly grimacing in his sleep and holding his hand over his right thigh.
Then Sonny climbed into the hammock hanging next to Clay’s one.
“Good job today, Bravo Three,” Clay mumbled, when he was briefly awake while putting the ice pack away. But instead of a funny remark he heard only Sonny’s snoring.
Clay turned over on his left side and fell asleep again.