Chapter Text
Four man trudged through the muddy grounds of the Brecon Beacons. Rainbow's SAS specialists had set out to Wales together to perform a routine military exercise. They were wearing the usual camo patterned uniforms of the british military. Their 55lb bergen the only thing giving them away as special forces to the well-trained eye. They were performing their annual routine exercise, walking 40 miles with their entire equipment within 24 hours. The rain was falling in greyish strings, making it hard to see more than a few meters. The regimental Sergeant Major Mike Baker was leading his troop through the barren landscape, his soaked beret hanging heavily in his forehead. They had been walking all day but the rain was making it really hard. It's been pelting down for hours. Ever since the four had exited the truck that brought them up the hills, the weather had gotten worse. Mute looked around, it was quite hard to see the way in front of him. He could hardly make out the outlines of Smoke and Sledge walking in front of him. The rain only contributed to the gloomy atmosphere and it was clear that they would have to build a shelter for the night soon. The sun was already starting to sink, painting the sky the slightest shade of orange. It was the only color other than green and grey they had seen all day. If Mute hadn't been on duty he might have even liked the view. While he kept trudging through the swampy landscape he racked his brain on how to solve the latest problem with his signal disruptor. He didn’t even realize that he had fallen behind again until he heard Thatcher’s voice over the wind and the rain.
“Chandar, still holding up?", Thatcher shouted over his shoulder, his coarse voice barely loud enough to be heard over the rain. He must have seen Mute trailing a few meters behind the others out of the corners of his eyes. Smoke and Sledge exchanged lopsided grins. While Thatcher considered the whole of the SAS his family, it was no secret that he was fond of the young intelligence officer. Mute hurried to close the gap and soon walked close behind Sledge and Smoke. "So, tell me mate, how far is it?", James shouted. "This exercise is bullshit". Thatcher let out an exasperated sigh and stopped to turn to Smoke. He replied as calmly as possible: " Porter, stay away from the cigarettes. That would make things a lot easier. And besides… As long as you have enough breath to complain, you can keep going". Mark pouted and a quick glance at Mute confirmed that the young yorkborn specialist felt the same. “I just want to get over and done with this.”, Smoke declared. Thatcher sighed again and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Then I suggest you stop complaining and keep walking”, and with this, the oldest serving SAS member turned around and continued his way. “Come on guys, this is a piece of cake. More like a little stroll”, Sledge boasted with a broad grin. The tall scotsman seemed to enjoy himself immensely. Whenever they performed outdoor exercises, Seamus was the one to lift the spirit and even right now he looked like he could go on for hours. Unlike Mark, who was known the be a brainbox, but very much preferred to stay indoors and improve his gadget. He just lacked the audacity to complain about the exercise like Smoke did.
One day these muppets would cause him to retire, Thatcher was sure of that. He thought about how many times he had walked these hills in all different kinds of weather conditions. How he failed selection the first time he applied and succeeded in the second try. How in the past years he supervised the selection process as a SAS officer. He had seen much more men failing than passing. And it had been Smoke of all men who passed selection with ease, that tosser. Thatcher wiped the rain from his forehead and shook his head in disbelief. Had somebody told him that he would grow fond of that loudmouth he wouldn’t have believed it. It was a whole different story with Mute though. Thatcher had recognized the driven young man early in the selection process. Sure, he sticked out like a sore thumb, he looked like he was fourteen years old and had a hard time making friends among the group. Thatcher had been worried more than once that he might not meet the expectations, especially when it came to the challenging requirements of physical strain. He had sat down a few times with Mute and encouraged him to go on, he had seen his potential quite early on and he really wanted him to pass selection where other officers questioned his abilities and suggested that he might try again another time. Thatcher had to admit that he took pride in the fact that Mute was walking along with his troop and that he had developed into a realiable and well-respected member of the Special Air Service as well as Team Rainbow.
All these memories were a pleasant distraction from the cold seeping into his uniform and causing his aging joints to hurt.
A few meters behind the regimental Sergeant Major the younger members followed his trail. They were exchanging teasing remarks and even Smoke’s mood had lifted significantly. With the fading daylight it was clear that they would soon set up their place for the night and that there would be something to eat. Even though with the heavy downpour the ration pack would probably not be heated up as it was unlikely they would manage to light a fire. But food was still something to look forward to. Smoke would probably try to steal Mute’s ration pack and Sledge would settle the friendly banter. Couldn’t be long now until Thatcher commanded them to build a place for the night, as the sun was sinking lower and lower. The shade of orange had almost vanished from the sky as the group reached a particularly narrow part of the ledge they were crossing. Mark had his right hand at the scarp and tried avoiding looking down the abyss to his left while he followed Smoke and Sledge. The athletic scotsman lead their group, followed by Smoke. The next thing Mute knew was that his foot was no longer where it was supposed to be, he lost his balance on the muddy path and fell over the ledge.
Thatcher’s train of thoughts was interrupted by a piercing yelp. He turned around to see Sledge and Smoke kneeling by the ledge, Mute was nowhere to be seen. “Oh fuck, no”, the only thought flashing through his mind. Thatcher stumbled over to Smoke and Sledge, only to see Mute’s twisted body lying face down at the base of the ledge. He estimated that the height difference had to be about 8 to 10 meters, that was more than enough to get seriously injured. It was suspiciously quiet except for the wind and the rain, Mute was lying still in a puddle of mud. It only took Thatcher a moment to throw his Bergen backpack aside and slide down the rocky descent, tearing his trousers in the process. He knelt next to Mute and carefully turned the younger man on his back. There is a gaping gush at his left temple, the oozing blood mixing with the mud and Mute’s dark hair. He carefully wiped the mud from Mute’s face and ran his fingers through the younger man’s hair to inspect the open head wound. “Hey, Mark!... Mark! Wake up mate!”, Thatcher shouted frantically, desperation lacing into his voice with every repetition. It was not until he felt somebody’s hands dig into his shoulders sharply that Thatcher became aware of his surrounding again.
“Stop! Mike, stop it! Stop shaking him!”, Sledge barked repeatedly until he finally reached Thatcher’s muddled brain and he carefully rests Mute’s head back on the ground. When did Sledge even managed to get down here? “Take a deep breath Mike, this isn’t helpful”, Sledge reminded Thatcher softly. “Smoke has the comms, he will call for medical help. Meanwhile the two of us will assess the situation and make sure that Mark is safe, alright?”. During his whole career Sledge had never seen somebody loose it like that, let alone an experience veteran like Thatcher. He was clearly emotionally involved.
“Sledge turned around and shouted up to Smoke, who had remained on top of the ledge. “Oi, Smoke! … James…! We need medical help. Call the base, we need MEDEVAC… MEDEVAC! You got me?” James gave him a thumps up sign and disappeared out of Sledge’s field of vision.
Sledge got on his knees next to Mute and Thatcher. Mute was breathing regularly but didn’t show any sign of consciousness. Sledge checked his pulse just to be sure their teammate is okay and took a quick look into Mute’s eyes. “The pupils are equally dialated, that’s a good sign.”, he explained, patting Thatcher’s shoulder. The scotsman then took a look at the cut at Mute’s temple. “That’s quite deep actually, he probably hit a stone or something on the way down”, Sledge took appraise of the situation. “So, we perform a bloodsweep, recover him and keep him warm until MEDEVAC, how does that sound?”, he nudged Thatcher. “Won’t be long ‘til he wakes up, promise.”
“Careful down there!”, came Smoke’s voice from above. He throw the backpacks down the ledge and slid down the descent feet first. He was met with expectant faces and started explaining: “So, we have a bit of a problem here. This place can’t obviously be reached by truck and due to the weather it is impossible to evacuate by helicopter, risk is too high. External support was requested, the mountain rescue service will not launch a helicopter in this conditions either.” Thatcher blinked twice, then looked around in search for answers. As Sledge had the most experience when it came to basic medical issues, he took the lead. “Okay, skip the MEDEVAC for today. We keep Mark comfortable for the night and wait until medical help arrives. And we should really hurry up, when the sun is down we will have a hard time performing the blood sweep and getting Mark back up the ledge.”
Sledge went straight to town, examining Mute for further injuries. “The skull looks okay to me, apart from the temple. Mike, can you help me with the jacket? James, get us a torch please, we need some light here…. Thank you”. Sledge ran his hands down Mute’s torso and came to a halt at the ribs. He felt them again and a third time. “I think we have some broken ribs, there’s a little crunch here. But we should be fine as long as Mark keeps breathing regularly“, Sledge explained. “There might be some damage to the wrist.”, Sledge continued and changed to the lower extremities “… and some pretty bad bruises along the legs together with some torn skin, but that’s about it for the moment. Let’s carefully get him up before the last light disappears. “ While Smoke dug out more torches from the backpacks, Thatcher and Sledge got Mute ready for transporting him up the ledge.
Just as Thatcher started to relax he noticed movement from the corner of his eyes. There was a twitch of Mute’s hand, but just as Thatcher believed that he was regaining consciousness, Mute’s face started contorting. The young man threw his head back, his eyes were wide open. When Smoke looked up from the backpacks, Mute was jerking uncontrollably. His arms are spasming and so were his legs. Mute had lost complete control over his body. “Don’t touch him, let him seize. Just step back and make room.”; Thatcher ordered as he kicked some stones out of the way. Sledge automatically looked at his wrist watch and Smoke pulled the backpacks out of Mute’s way. Mute was still jerking, he must have bitten his tongue in the process as a trickle of blood ran from the corner of his mouth.
“Holy shit, does this seizure ever stop?”, Thatcher asked after was seemed like an eternity. Sledge started looking worried as well but replied in his usual calm manner: “It’s been thirty seconds. This should be over any time soon.” Smoke looked at him in disbelief: “You an expert now? What makes you think that any of this is normal?” Sledge took a deep breath and explained: “This is not the first seizure I witness, it happens quite often in rugby. Our trainer told us what to do. But seriously, this seizure is lasting long time now”. Just as Thatcher was about to lose it Mute gradually stopped jerking, his head lolled to the side and his body went limb. As Thatcher, Sledge and Smoke ran to their injured colleague, the rain washed away the foaming mixture of blood and saliva.