Page 34 of Zorro

“That’s fair,” D-Day admitted. “But her? I don’t like it.”

Zorro stopped short, grabbing D-Day by the shoulder and shoving him hard.

D-Day didn’t even flinch. He shoved back harder.

Blitz hooted. “Oh shit. It’s on.”

“Settle down,” Joker called from ahead. But his tone lacked conviction.

Zorro’s breath came fast. “You don’t know shit about her, D.”

D-Day’s eyes narrowed. “I know she’s dangerous…for you.” He took a breath, his eyes tortured. “For the team.”

“She’s not dangerous,” Zorro snapped. “She’s complicated. She’s been through hell.”

D-Day stepped in, toe-to-toe. “You think what? You’re gonna save her? That is so typical of you. You give everything, and you expect nothing in return.” He stopped. His next words cost him. This wasn’t just frustration anymore. It was fear. The sharp ache of watching someone he loved stand where he'd once stood, on the edge of sacrifice with no hand to hold. When he spoke again, his voice was lower. Rougher. “You think that makes you strong…” He swallowed. “It doesn’t. It makes you bleed out slowly and alone. I did that. I almost didn’t come back.”

Zorro froze. Around them, the silence shifted. Every teammate went still, like some primal instinct told them not to break what was unfolding. Not to touch this moment while it burned. D-Day’s jaw worked once. “I’m not gonna watch you do it, too. Cut her loose. She’s grief and guilt and twisted with unprocessed rage.”

Joker said nothing. Just watched. Goddamn it, D-Day. Why couldn’t he have just confronted him in private, man-to-man, where it belonged? Now their CO’s eyes were on them, and Joker’s mind was always three steps ahead. Which meant they were going to sweat.

Hard. Until the message was delivered, absorbed, and lived.

“She’s mine,” Zorro said, voice raw. “You know that gut-deep feeling you had with Helen? The one you kept locked up. The drinking, the sleepless nights, the agony.” He poked him in the chest. “The one you didn’t tell us about because she was Buck’s sister? That’s complicated. That was fucked up. I’m not going to make you all goddamn guess what’s going on with me. I don’t lock things down. I can’t. It’s not in my nature. But don’t”—he jabbed a finger—“don’t treat our Doc Sunshine like she’s a threat to me. She’s not.”

“We’re not going to apologize for having your back, even in this, Z. We’re not.”

He looked at Professor. “Julia?” Then at Gator, Blitz, Buck. “Izzy, Bree, Maritza?”

“Pippa…” Joker growled. The looks on their faces made his chest tight.

“Times that all by ten. She’s in my blood, my bones.” He took a hard breath. “I know I’m mouthy and pushy, but it’s because I care about you guys. I’m your guardian angel in battle, and that doesn’t change when the bullets stop flying. Body, head, heart. It all matters. It’s who I am. From the moment I saw her face, I was gone.” He set his hands on his hips. “She might hurt me bad. I know that. I accept it, but she’ll be worth it. Every fucking cut to my heart.” His shoulders shifted. “She let me in just a little and I am on fire with just that much. I have to go all in.”

All this time…since Niamey, she’d been putting up roadblocks, sparring, and he didn’t have a clue, a defense mechanism for a woman who’d been emotionally starved and didn’t even know it?

“All in all the time,” Buck’s drawl rumbled softly.

That quieted everything.

Even D-Day.

Even the gulls overhead.

Joker let it ride for one more breath. “Enough.”

Zorro and D-Day broke apart on command, tension still vibrating between them like a live wire.

Zorro was about to fall into step with the team, adrenaline still sizzling through his veins, when Bear moved up beside him.

The others were already jogging ahead, D-Day shouting something obscene about "shirtless flirtation and national security breaches," but Bear didn’t laugh. Didn’t smirk. Just gave him a long, steady look.

Flint sat at his side, ears alert, watching Zorro like he was being weighed.

Bear’s voice was quiet, low enough not to carry, but firm enough to land. “She's not a battle, brother.”

Zorro’s jaw flexed, breath still harsh in his chest.

Bear didn’t look away. “She’s a war.” Then, softer, just for him, “Kola, pace yourself.”