Work Text:
A simple recon mission. Get the payload where it needs to be, get paid, leave. Simple, something they’d done a thousand and one times before only this time it was different. This time, for the first time in a long long time, it went wrong.
Jack was in the midst of battle, Ana on the towers above the small Spanish city taking shots with her spot on gun. Gabriel was somewhere, his black ops helping clear the city. Jack had taken a troop with him, some of the better-trained members that were ready for their recon missions. He himself was working his ass off, shooting down Deadlock members over and over again. Down they went, dropping like flies to his gun.
Well, they were until he saw one man from the corner of his eye throw something. It landed at his feet, rolling to tap his boot, and by the time he felt it was too late. A loud bang, a flash of light, it burned, it hurt. Jack was flung backwards with a pained shout, landing half in a building and skidding through sand, glass, and broken wood.
There were gunshots then, loud noises that he couldn’t hear. His ears were ringing loudly, his own voice muffled as he yelled in pain. His hands were over his eyes, and they burned like fire under his palms. People were round him, kneeling over him, yelling things in soft voices. He couldn’t hear them.
Jack’s hearing came back to him slowly as people fussed. He couldn’t move from where he was, too shell shocked from the explosion. What he could do was hear voices yell into radios, asking for evac as soon as possible. Gunshots, yelling, and then nothing but footsteps.
“MOVE!” Someone yelled, his voice gruff and authoritative. That same man was beside him, hunkering down and wiping blood from Jack’s cheeks. There was a softer voice, one rising in intonation, desperate for a reply. Jack could only gasp.
“Jack. JACK. Open your damn eyes god dammit! I gotta see what’s happening!” Gabriel. It’s Gabriel. Jack felt calmer instantly.
Slowly his hands moved, blood caked in-between his fingers and his entire body aching. He grimaced and opened his eyes, finding nothing but black. His hand came up to his left eye, touching just under to see if his eye was actually open. It was. His eyes were open, and he couldn’t see a thing.
“Gabe?” He asked, stuttering, hands blindly grasping for the man’s uniform. He found his jacket and grabbed onto it for support.
“Right here, Cariño…” He said, the word slipping out automatically. “Look at me.”
“I can’t.” Jack said, voice tight. “I c-cant- I can’t-“ Jack’s jaw clenched, and his hand came back up over his eyes. “Fuck, Gabe…”
It took all of about two seconds before Gabe understood. Aside from a slight twitch in his eye he said nothing, assessing Jack’s other injuries as he stuttered and mumbled, groaning in pain. It wasn’t only his eyes that pained him. It was his leg, a large piece of wood jammed in his thigh. Cuts and grazes on every and all parts of his body. Grazes on his face, blood on his cheeks, his chin, his neck.
Slowly Gabe stood, wiped his hands on his combat pants, and bent to pick Jack up in a fireman’s lift. He heard the pained sound, but they needed out. He could hear the helicarrier landing, guns shooting, more Deadlock members.
He began the walk to the carrier and followed the other troupes inside, seeking the medics to get Jack first attention. He would not let him die.