The silence was uncomfortable. Out of place and unwelcome in their normally boisterous home quarters. The metal structure usually echoed the slightest sound, exaggerating all the laughs, the periodic clanging of the weights, and the familiar sounds of tactical equipment being cleaned and prepared.

It was never quiet like this.

Even in the middle of the night there was a steady drone of breathing (and snoring) and the occasional rattle of someone shifting on their bunk.

Tonight they had trudged in from the beach, battered and bruised and broken. No words spoken. Everyone trapped in their own minds, trying to make sense of how a good natured game of soccer had ended in fire, blood and death. All things that they were very familiar with on a mission.

But this had been off duty...this had been personal, and God, there had been kids there.

The continued silence haunted him, bringing him back to the moment right after the bomb went off. Pushing himself off the wet sand and trying to make sense of what happened. It had been like someone had pushed a mute button on the world. His hearing temporarily stunned by the concussive force. The medic's eyes had worked overtime trying to process the chaos in front of him, the injured people, the crashing waves, the smoke, the frenzied movement, the beach umbrellas burning. The lack of sound making it all seem almost surreal, as if this hadn't really just happened, like he was watching it from a far. But then his hearing had kicked back in a sudden rush of noise and the shouts and screams had broken the spell. There was no more denying the reality he was suddenly thrust back into.

His training had kicked in and he was up and moving towards the screams, a reaction as deeply ingrained in him as his own name. He had triaged as best he could with no supplies, not even a shirt or some extra fabric to work with. Finding a small piece of relief each time he passed a team member upright and working to coordinate the response, their actions automatic too. He checked them off one by one breathing a little easier with each sighting and making mental notes of things to treat later, once the criticals were taken care of.

He supposed later was now. It was as good a time as any to check in on everyone and see what ails they were hiding. Sorry, " what they had forgotten to tell him about."

It was a fine line he was always walking. Everyone needed a little time to decompress after a mission, nevermind whatever the hell tonight was. A hot shower, a bite of food and even his most stubborn patients were usually much more amenable to treatment. So he had learned to wait a while. Unfortunately with this group you could never completely trust that there wasn't anything serious being "forgotten' about, so he had to strike the right balance of giving space while still doing his job.

He started with the easiest. Admittedly taking the path of least resistance right off the bat.

Preach hadn't moved from where he sat when they came in. The man was parked stiffly at the table gaze transfixed on the phone he was slowly rotating in his hands.

On any other day where they were on the base the man would have checked in with his family by now as was his nightly routine but it appeared he wasn't ready to make that call right now.

To his credit Preach sat still, allowing McG to examine and clean his head wound without any fuss. Tilting his head when asked and responding to McG's questions with quiet one word answers.

"Headache?" ….. "No"

"Dizzyness?" ….. "No"

"Light sensitivity?" - ….. "No"

"Nausea?" ….. "No"

Preach was about as close as McG got to an ideal patient around these parts. Not that the bar was particularly high when you were using Dalton and Jaz as measuring sticks. Top was liable to keel over before he admitted he was injured whereas Jaz was downright ornery when she was hurting.

He clicked his flashlight off, satisfied that Preach didn't have a concussion. Head wounds always bled like a bitch so the actual gash on his eyebrow wasn't as bad as the amount of blood had suggested. It was close to needing stitches but they could probably get by without. McG applied a few steri-strips, satisfied with their hold on the two edges of skin and made a mental note to check again in a few days to re-evaluate.

Pushing up from the table he hesitated for a second, not quite satisfied with the man's well being quite yet.

"You gonna call your family?"

Preach gave him a tired smile..."Soon as my ears stop ringing".

McG headed down the hallway and knocked on Amir's door waiting until he heard a subdued "enter." He cracked open the door slowly unsure of what he would find. He wasn't quite sure what to expect with Amir yet. The former spy had let him stitch his cut easily enough as they returned from Syria so maybe he wouldn't be as bad as some of the others. But then again, Amir had also been the one to demand he be cut up to sell his cover in the first place. That didn't exactly bode well for the prospects of valuing his own health.

The medic's eyes adjusted to the dim lighting and he found Amir sprawled on the bed, evidently trying for an air of nonchalance for his would be visitor. When the spy caught sight of who it was his face hardened and he attempted to forestall the obvious reason for the visit with an "I'm fine"

McG resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Yup, Amir was going to fit in just fine around here.

"Great, this will be quick then." he bit out with forced cheeriness.

Surprisingly, it was actually a fairly accurate self-assessment though. Amir seemed to have escaped practically unscathed give or take a few minor abrasions. With closer inspection, they appeared to be more sand rash from hitting the deck hard rather than from the explosion and he was satisfied none of them needed any additional treatment. A few other basic checks , pulse, pupils, blood pressure and he was done. The man would undoubtedly have a few bruises in the morning but physically he was no worse for wear.

Mentally though, that might be a different story. McG wouldn't even pretend to know what was going on in the former spy's head right now. The man's tense body was emanating palpable rage, and his eyes were a gateway to a whole lot of other turbulent emotions that McG couldn't interpret. Dealing with that was well beyond his expertise. With some of the others he might have tried to help but his newest teammate was still too much of an unsolved puzzle at this point. He was sure the higher ups would have shrinks descending on them in the coming days and he would let the professionals delve into that unchartered territory.

"Alright, I'll leave you in peace" He just barely caught the quiet "thanks" before the door clicked shut leaving the former spy to process in solitude.

As he headed back to the kitchen he braced himself. Jaz or Dalton... Pick your poison.

Dalton was at least easy to locate, tipping the scale in his favor. He was sitting at his desk in the common area, staring at paperwork that looked just as suspiciously empty as when McG had last seen it. Hell the man didn't even have a pen in his hands, and even worse didn't even seem to realize that problem.

The computer chimed its familiar alert and everyone in the room stiffened, not quite ready to deal with the world right now. Dalton's head turned to look at the computer beside him but instead of keying in the passcode, he stared at it as it continued to sound. He rose slowly before suddenly turning resolutely on his heel and leaving the bunker with determined strides. The door to the yard crashed shut behind him, its metallic sound obnoxiously loud in the hushed room. Preach's eyes flickered with concern as he watched the man go but he dutifully moved towards the desk to respond to the call. McG took the reprieve, even more determined to catch up to wherever Top had escaped to and check on the man's well being.

Dalton hadn't gone far. He sat on the ground leaning back against the metal siding of the hut, maybe 10 feet from the door. It seemed that even when he wanted to escape he still couldn't bring himself to go far from his team.

McG stood for a moment, waiting for the man to acknowledge his presence. He shuffled his feet and loudly shifted his bag of supplies but Tops face remained expressionless, his haunted eyes staring unseeingly into the dark night.

He gave up on subtle and got on with it, crouching down next Dalton he asked "You want to make this easy on me and tell me what needs looking at?"

Apparently not.

McG reached out and held his fingers to the man's wrist, feeling a steady pulse that reassured him the lack of responsiveness wasn't injury induced.

Okay, so nothing life threatening. That was a start. But he was pretty sure he had seen some redness on Adam's back when he had passed by him earlier on the beach. It had stuck in his mind because Top had been the one teammate McG hadnt been able to find for a while. He had been relieved when he finally recognized Top's voice yelling into the sat phone coordinating with DC even before he came around from behind the burning truck. Dalton had been playing soccer shirtless when they fled meaning his skin had had little protection from the blast. Lifting the back of Top's shirt he grimaced, yahtzee.

"Come on man, we've talked about telling me about injuries…..."

His second attempt at conversation fell just as flat.

Dalton was a pretty good fit for the strong and silent cliche at the best of times. He listened, observed, and let others do most of the talking up until the point where his opinion or direction was truly needed.

But this was a whole new level of quiet though. The man seemed to have just shut down completely. It was something McG hadn't seen before. After a tough mission Top was usually their rock, debriefing or distracting them as the situation required. Even post Elijah hadn't been like this. Hell, their leader had been a one man manic cheer squad, determined to keep everyone doing activities, extra training, playing games, going for workouts all so as not to have time to dwell on the loss.

Leaning in closer he stuck his flashlight in his teeth to free up his hands to get a better redness started just above Dalton's waist and travelled upwards, reaching up for his shoulder on the left side. Looked like mostly first degree thankfully. But there was a small area on the lower back that seemed to have taken the worst of it and was likely second degree.

He peeled open and applied a burn dressing sheet from his kit to the part that was blistering, and felt a slight flinch away from the treatment. Huh, the statue lived.

"I'll need to change this tomorrow. No lifting, running or doing anything that will stretch that skin for a couple days" ….. Again no response.

" and don't stay out in the cold too long okay?... ADAM!"

It came out harsher than he intended, frustration, exhaustion and concern all fueling some extra volume. He wasn't leaving til he got some sort of response from the man.

Whether it was the tone, or the unusual use of his first name, he finally got a nod from Top.

He would take it, even if Dalton's gaze was still a hundred miles away. He sighed and headed back in, leaving the man to brood in peace.

As he re-entered the hangar Preach's head came up from the book he was reading on the couch, evidently finished with the call.

"Anything important?" McG was curious what they had wanted, maybe there was some information on who had done this.

"Nah, just a basic update - nothing new intel wise."

McG often found himself wondering if Preach read minds. The man was scarily insightful sometimes.

"What were the final numbers?" McG both wanted and didn't want to know.

"Things are still settling"

"Preach?" - the man was a terrible liar

A long pause but Preach eventually gave in " 4 dead, 21 injured, a couple are still critical"

The sudden wave of anger crashed through his well constructed defenced. Breaching the barricades and overrunning his senses instantaneously. It took a conscious effort to breathe through it and he desperately felt the need to make his hands busy with something before they followed through on their desire to destroy something.

Another deep breathe and he resolved to go find Jaz, trying to check on her would likely involve a verbal sparring match that would keep him busy for a while. There was also the slight problem of figuring out where she had gotten to. He hadn't seen her in the common area since they arrived back so he went down the hallways and checked her quarters - no joy. No luck in any of the bathrooms. Where the hell was that sneaky ninja.

The nickname sparked an idea and he ventured out of their bunker and crossed to the base gym where sure enough he found the sniper working over a punching bag. She jabbed rapid fire at the bag before breaking away, circling with intense concentration and re-attacking with a fierce series of punches. From the tell-tale sweat marks on her grey army t-shirt she had been at this a while. He watched the bag swing again and his eyes finally tracked her rapidly moving hands when she finally paused to catch the swinging bag so she could go again.

The idiot wasn't wearing any gloves.

She hadn't even wrapped her hands and had been attacking the bag with bare knuckles for God knows how long. He had the urge to punch something right now for a completely different reason. Boxing was actually a pretty healthy outlet ASSUMING YOU HAD GLOVES ON.

"Jaz!"

She ignored the call, lashing out at the bag with renewed ferocity.

"Khan!"

Ignored again. This was really getting to be a theme tonight. A guy could get a complex.

He grimaced, knowing the reaction that he would get, before striding forward and catching her arm on the back swing. It was instantaneous, her other elbow swung backwards at him, while her captured wrist tried to violently twist out of his hold. Turning on him fully she lashed out attmepting to break his hold and regain space but he held firm absorbing the strikes with patience. She pushed in closer jabbing her fury into his stomach with an inarticulate cry. She wasn't pulling her punches and he was grateful that the strikes were softened by the proximity and her exhaustion. He continued to pull her in tighter and she finally gave in, collapsing into his chest, where her shoulders quivered for a few seconds before finally releasing their tension. His arms moved from restraining and self protection and wrapped more reassuringly around her. Putting his chin down on top of her head in a gesture that exaggerated the height difference and normally made her laugh.

There was quiet for a second until she finally spat out

"There were kids there for fucks sake"

"I know"

"What the hell is wrong with them?"

He didn't have an answer for that one, shaking his head on top of hers as she pressed further into his chest.

Finally she regained composure and he braved broaching the reason he had come out there.

"Come on there is a pot of strong coffee calling your name and then I'm gonna look and see what damage you did to those hands."

She rolled her eyes, detangled from his arms and going to pick up her discarded sweatshirt.

He gave an exaggerated sniff, "but first Jazzie…. I'm going to recommend a shower"

He wasn't at all surprised when the piece of clothing collided with the back of his head. The girl had good aim after all.

30 minutes later and she begrudgingly exited the shower and joined him in the kitchen following the scent of the fresh pot of coffee like tracking hound. He poured a cup, held it out to her before teasingly withdrawing it … "after I see the hands."

It wasn't his first rodeo after all.

One finger was clearly still functional because she gave him a distinctive hand gesture sitting down at the table with a huff.

He continued teasing and baiting her as he worked trying to keep the mood light and the sniper distracted. She had really done a number on her knuckles and they were bloody and bruised, but so far nothing some polysporin and bandages couldn't cure.

She flinched when he reached two particularly colourful fingers and turned away from his reproachful gaze that questioned her sanity. The two fingers were pretty clearly broken, if he had to bet, most likely from repeatedly pulverising the bag.

She turned back and stared at him definitely, daring him to call her on it. He sighed, took a long slow breath, before throwing her a white flag "looks like you landed hard on these at the beach".

He would give her the benefit of the doubt. It technically could have happened in the explosion after all and that explanation would raise less eyebrows when he filled out the after action injury reports. He splinted them for now, but X-rays would be on tomorrow's agenda in order to make sure they were set to heal properly.

He handed her the still steaming mug of coffee, signalling the end of his exam and she happily leapt away from the table to go to her regular kitchen perch to the left of the counter. Conveniently nice and close to the coffee pot for an anticipated refill. By all rights she shouldn't be drinking coffee at this time in the evening but good luck to anyone who made that suggestion to her. He was an army medic serving in an elite special forces unit who had a good 8 inches and 100 lbs on her and he certainly wasn't brave enough to do so.

Finally done with his rounds he stowed his medical gear on the equipment racks and parked himself on a recliner throwing an arm up over his eyes to dim the lights. He really just wanted to crawl into bed but he couldn't bring himself to head to his quarters quite yet. He wasn't sure if he was ready to be alone with his thoughts. He felt like trying to sleep right now would be a fruitless and frustrating venture. That said he wasn't opposed if his eyes were to drift shut here for a bit.

He absently rubbed his wrist trying to massage out the pain that had lingered since the blast. To be honest he wasn't even really sure how exactly he had done it, best guess was a not so graceful landing when the blast had knocked him off his feet. It was still functional enough and he didn't think anything was broken, but it had certainly been an annoyance that hampered his movements throughout the evening. He would X-ray it to be sure tomorrow when he dragged Jaz to the base hospital but it was most likely just some ligament/tendon damage that would heal itself if given some time and rest.

The door to the yard crashed open and Dalton entered clumsily carrying something in his arms and using his back to prop the door open. McG winced at the sight and rolled his eyes in exasperation just about to chide Adam for disregarding all his instructions when he recognized Patton in his arms.

McG felt like a horrible human being for saying it but he had completely forgotten that Top's dog had followed them to the beach earlier. He must have scattered after the bomb and had made his way back on his own to the place he apparently now considered home.

Dalton placed Patton down gently and looked desperately at McG for help. It was quickly apparent that the dog was only putting weight on one of his front legs and it gave a soft whine at all the movement and jostling. Top looked panicked at the sound and was murmuring reassuringly to the dog trying to calm it. It was the first sign of emotion he'd seen Dalton' show all night.

"Awww come on Top, I'm not a vet…." He broke off at the puppy dog eyes he was being shot, and not by the dog either.

The rest of the team turned to look at him as well. Concern written on their faces as well despite the fact that they all normally claimed it was only top's dog and made sure to tease Dalton about the hassle of keeping him on a regular basis. Jaz moved in closer and began stroking the dog reassuringly while Preach fetched him his usual bowl filled with water. Even Amir had ventured out from his quarters curious about the commotion and was now theorizing what was wrong with the leg.

He made a mental note to tease them all mercilessly about this later before sadly leaving the comfort of the recliner and fetching his gear again. The poor dog did look a little rough around the edges so he really should check and make sure it was nothing serious.

10 minutes later he managed to calm the herd and had done his best vet impression determining there was nothing life threatening. The dog matched his owner with a fairly serious burn although the fur seemed to have helped prevent too much damage. He did his best to wrap the leg, mostly with the goal of keeping it clean while it healed. Ironically the dog might have been his most cooperative patient of the night holding perfectly still while he worked. He had made damn sure to point out that fact to the rest of the team and a few of them had looked suitably abashed.

He re-settled into the recliner as the exhaustion of the day finally caught up with him. His arm was aching considerably more as the evening wore on and if he was anyone else he would be giving them shit for not having put ice on it. That said, the freezer just seemed so far away at this moment. Maybe he would grab one in a bit when he finally motivated himself to make the not very long but seemingly very far walk to his bedroom.

"Thanks Dr. Doolittle". He opened his eyes to see Top holding out an ice pack and glancing meaningfully at the wrist McG hadn't realized he was rubbing. He reached up with his good arm to grab the sack of ice but Dalton held on for an extra second forcing McG to meet his gaze.

'No really, thank you' his head tilted to where the team sat around the dog.

On the surface he could have been referring to the dog and the fancy bandage job McG had done more to assuage the people than Patton. But it rang with a deeper sincerity and appreciation for taking care of the individuals clustered around the dog when Dalton hadn't been able to. Typical Top doublespeak. Combine that with the freaky perceptiveness about McG's wrist and he had a feeling Dalton had pulled back from whatever dark place he had been and was at somewhat back on his game.

McG smiled as he watched Adam return back and begin working the room. Teasing Jaz about her coffee intake, asking Preach what type of hippie brainwashing he was reading, even going as far as to trash talk Amir's soccer skills claiming he had drone footage that the goal scored earlier should have been offside. He felt a weight lift off his shoulders and he finally began to feel like they were on the right track. They would all move on, its what they had to do in this business. But tonight they would lick their wounds and lean on each other and wait to see what the new day brought.