Chapter Text
The hospital room is cold. Jaz wraps her arms around herself, trying not to concentrate too much on everything at stake. She has never liked hospitals. The machines, the smells- they are all part of something she saw too much of as a child.
Broken bones, deep dark bruises and lengthy burns-
She saw way too much of those beeping machines.
Preach is still breathing, with the help of those very machines and she knows she should be grateful, but she really can’t be. Not after the way Preach’s wife cried over the phone.
Jaz had swallowed back tears; she had to be strong for Preach’s wife, but right there, sitting next to him without anyone to see her, she knows she is fighting a lost cause.
Amir is asleep on a plastic chair and there is drool falling on the side of his cheek. On an ordinary day, she would have taken a picture and revelled in the blackmail possibilities it would bring, but now all she can do is worry.
Because Preach is still on life support, their whole team got shaken up due to this son of a bitch and Top. Top is his very own category of worries.
He’d left them without a single word, simply disappearing without a trace. As if they weren’t his team. As if all those times she’d had his back meant nothing.
She knows that he has probably justified this decision with a need to protect them. Jaz goes back to their conversation after the guys came back from Colombia. How he’d told her that he had this darkness inside of him that he feared could not be controlled.
Jaz lets out a sigh, massaging her temple, trying to top the rising anxiety. Hoffman has Preach’s gun. Top, he has nothing. No element of surprise, no carefully detailed plan. Nothing. Not even them.
She’s not sure she can lose someone again.
The machines beep steadily and, for a moment, she tries to concentrate on the easy rhythm. Her breaths coordinate with the sounds and she feels herself getting calmer. Like she does when she’s in the field.
She’s worried sick, but mostly she is hurt. More than she wants to admit.
The two of them usually pair up on missions. His eyes are on hers first when things go south. She’s the one he spills his guts to when they get back from a rough job. She’d thought that she was special. That what they had was special.
But he’d cut her off just as easily as the rest of them, leaving her with nothing but worries and a slow boiling anger. It hurts.
Jaz pushes herself off the wall, heading down the hallway to Director Campbell’s room. Her watch tells her it’s been over five hours since Top has deserted them. Slowly, hurt turns into more worry.
McG is there, eyes glued to his closed phone. Campbell is sleeping on her bed. McG raises his eyes to hers, and she tears up like a five year old.
‘‘Joe, ‘‘ she whispers, feeling like all the weight of the world is on her shoulders.
He swiftly gets up, phone forgotten, wrapping her up in his arms. It doesn’t take her long before she is wetting his shirt, silent tears streaming down her face. His huge frame engulfs hers and she feels ridiculous, head barely reaching his chest. But his hands at warm against the cotton of her shirt and his arms are strong and steady and she clings to him like a lifeline.
The first night after Elijah died, she had wandered aimlessly down the hallway until she’d landed in his bed. It wasn’t the first time, and she knew it wouldn’t be the last. Sometimes all you needed were strong arms holding you, and McG didn’t seem to recoil from her touch like Dalton did.
They stay like that for a long moment, her face pressed up on his shirt, his hands smoothing down her hair. Neither of them speaks for some time. When her breathing evens out, McG glances at Campbell and tugs Jaz out of the room. Her eyes are puffy and his are rimmed with red and she doesn’t let go of his hand.
‘‘Where is he? ‘‘ she asks in a small voice. McG runs a hand through his hair, eyes softening as they set on her. She must look pitiful, but all she can think about is that Adam is out there somewhere, needing them, probably hurt. Adam. She only lets herself call him that in her head. It seems too special, too intimate.
Her heart contracts painfully in her chest.
‘‘I don’t know Jazzy, ‘‘ answers McG and he pulls at their interlocked fingers, bringing her back to his chest.
This time, she glances up at him instead of hiding in his chest. He’s already seen the tears.
A shiver goes through her, and she’s not sure if it’s from the cold hospital air, or the panic rising to the surface. McG shrugs off his hoodie and wraps it around her, zipping it to her neck.
‘‘Come on, let’s go grab a coffee, ‘‘ he says, hand still firmly grasping hers. It’s like he’s afraid she might bolt if he lets her go.
Jaz presses her nose into the soft, worn fabric. It smells like McG, but there is this light hint of laundry detergent that she usually associates with Top.
xxxxx
They end up at an old formica table, glancing down at their steaming mugs of bad coffee and day-old doughnuts. Jaz stomach growls loudly and she knows she should eat something, but she also knows it will come back up the second it passes her lips.
For an hour, McG does his best to keep her mind away from Top, recalling old missions and making fun of their teammates.
She laughs, not too loud, not too hard, but she still laughs and he seems satisfied with it.
‘‘Don’t worry, he’ll come through,” he says and she gazes at him, tired and worried. ‘‘In a few hours you’ll be back to doing your Dalton eyes.”
‘‘My what?” she asks sharply, not unlike the way she’d replied to Hoffman’s boyfriend comment 48 hours ago. She hadn’t missed the way Adam stepped right in front of her after that, as if trying to shield her from their radioactive guest.
‘‘You know, those eyes you make at him, like he’s the center of the universe.”
He is the center of her universe. But Jaz didn’t think she was that obvious. Elijah used to tease her about her Dalton eyes too.
Jaz doesn’t answer. This is a touchy subject. There are careers on the line, emotions on the line, her team on the line. She isn’t sure she wants to risk losing so much.
‘‘Your secret’s safe with me,”‘ he says and she casts him a grateful look. His fingers squeeze hers.
‘‘I need some air,” she replies and he seems to catch on she wants some time by herself. He nods and she leaves, heading to the front doors of the hospital.
xxxxx
There are benches and trees, smiling people and a light wind. The sun is slowly sinking into the color-splattered sky. It would be a beautiful night if she wasn’t torn apart with grief and worry.
Jaz shivers in McG’s hoodie and buries her fists in her pockets. She takes them out and wrings her hands together before putting them back inside. She can’t seem to stay in place, not when Top- Adam- is in danger. Jaz needs to know his six is being watched. She needs to know he’s safe.
Adam.
She falls back on a bench, letting out yet another sigh. Another hour passes by and she toys with her emotions, an unhealthy game they’ve all been guilty of playing.
Jaz feels his presence before he’s even on hospital grounds, ninja skills coming in handy. He sees her immediately and she feels like a thousand bricks have been lifted from her shoulders. Her breaths come more easily, and all she wants to do is to keep him next to her, safe.
Top walks up to her, hands in his pockets, a haunted look in his eyes. He casts her an easy grin and that grin goes straight through her. It changes something, like a light switch and suddenly all worry is replaced with something bigger, stronger that bubbles up to the surface.
She punches him. Hard.
‘‘What the hell Jaz?” he asks, and she is torn between the urge to kiss him and the one to hit him again.
The latter one wins. ‘‘You don’t get to do this,” she says, punching him again, straight in the chest. ‘‘Disappearing, not a single word.” She sticks an accusing finger into his muscles with every word. ‘‘Do you have any idea how worried I was?”
He catches her hand and folds it to his chest, over the skin she’s just bruised.
‘‘I didn’t want you to be there when the darkness came,” he replies and she bites down on her lip, willing away the tears.
Her eyes are glassy and she’s failing miserably at this not crying thing. Inside of her, relief wins over anger and she holds his gaze. Her other hand goes to his beard, fingers ghosting over it in a tender gesture.
Adam closes his eyes as she does so. They both know they are toeing the line, but neither of them move.
‘‘I don’t care,” she whispers and he pulls her to his chest. He wraps his arms around her waist, holding her like he’s afraid she might break. She’s not sure exactly what she doesn’t care about; his stupid reasoning or the darkness that resides inside of him. Right now, she has him back and it’s all that matters.
xxxx
Jaz wakes up in the middle of the night, throat drier than the desert.
Hannah and Noah found them a suite in a nearby hotel so they could be close to the hospital while the Quonset hunt was taken care of.
There are two bedrooms. Amir and McG share one while Top had insisted on taking the couch. She’d protested, telling him the queen bed was plenty big for the two of them, but something in his eyes had her relenting. Seeing Preach like that seemed to have taken a number on him. Maybe he needed the alone time.
She silently sneaks into the kitchen, surprised to find Top awake. He is facing away from her, his shoulders shaking under the weight of his sobs. For a moment she considers retreating back to her room and leaving him some privacy, but the sight of crumpled Adam has her aching.
Jaz moves in front of him and it’s either a testament to her ninja skills or his state of mind that he doesn’t notice she’s there until she is crouching in front of him, putting a hand to his knee.
His eyes are red-rimmed as they rise, landing on Jaz. She reaches for him and lets her thumb wipe out tears from his cheek. He leans into her touch.
‘‘Top,” she whispers, but the rest of her words get stuck in her throat.
‘‘What if he doesn’t make it,” he says.
She watches him carefully. Somehow, she knows he killed Hoffman. A piece of his soul has probably been chipped off from that act alone. Preach being in a coma might just be the last straw.
Jaz’s heart aches for him, and for a moment all she wants to do is kiss him until this world makes sense again. She settles for sinking to her knees in front of him.
Her hands settle on both sides of his face, forcing him to look at her.
‘‘He will,” she says in a firm voice.
He sighs loudly, hurt coming off of him in waves.
‘‘You’re a good man,” she says because it’s the thing he needs to hear. He doesn’t answer and she traces small circles over his skin.
It’s her turn to be strong.
Jaz wraps her arms around him, ignoring the awkward angle. He tugs her closer and she falls on his lap, straddling him.
He buries his head in her chest and nothing about this feels physical. It feels intimate, and it’s both heart-wrenching and comforting.
After a few minutes Jaz glances at the clock and scrapes her nails over his scalp.
‘‘Come to bed,” she urges, because she knows there is no way Adam will be able to get through tomorrow without sleeping for the second night in a row.
He nods and lets her guide them to their feet. She pushes the cover open and helps him lay down.
Jaz moves to the other side of the bed and closes her eyes. It’s not long before she feels Adam reaching out for her.
His hands snake around her waist bringing her to him. His knees curl under hers as his grip tightens. She sinks into his embrace, heart fluttering even when it shouldn’t. Adam falls asleep behind her, his breath ghosting over her exposed shoulder. She smiles through the pain.
She’ll worry about it tomorrow.