Page 35 of Men of Fort Dale: The Complete Series

The first thing he became aware of was the silence.

Groaning, he tried to roll onto his back and gasped as searing pain shot up his left side.

Clutching himself, he flopped back to the ground, shivering frantically.

Now, among the pain, came the deep, unsettling feeling of the cold as it worked its way into his body.

“Fell through a hole in the ceiling. Isn’t that about my luck?” he muttered, leaning against the cave wall.

“Could be broken instead,” he reminded himself.

Talking to himself wasn’t his favorite thing, but being alone was even worse.

Despite taking moments to himself back at base or sticking to his apartment, he had always known his team was nearby in case he needed them.

Sure, they drove him crazy half the time, but they were his team, and their presence was comforting.

In this cave, however, with no idea how much time had passed or what state his team was in, he didn’t have the mental safety net.

He was almost certain the only person in danger during the collapse had been Aidan, and Sean had made sure to get him out of harm’s way before he’d fallen.

It was likely that the rest of them were perfectly safe and probably out looking for him.

Probably.

It wasn’t like he’d been the best leader or friend lately.

He’d even driven Ricardo to lose his temper, and the others treated him as someone to avoid rather than follow.

Sean couldn’t blame them, though, even as he’d hated watching his brothers drift away from him day by day.

He also wouldn’t have blamed them for giving him up for lost and moving on to the rendezvous point, calling in a specialized team to find what he was sure they expected to be his body buried somewhere among the snow and ice.

Sean huddled against the wall, exhaustion overtaking him and draining the energy from his senses.

Maybe he had failed his team in more ways than one, and that wasn’t even including how badly he’d failed Clint.

Hell, maybe that was why everyone on the team was so keen on drifting away.

They knew, in the end, it had been Sean’s fault their teammate had died.

Sean chuckled darkly, curling his arms around his knees as best he could to hold in his warmth. “Dark cave, dark thoughts, eh?”

The echo of the cave didn’t do much to stop his chuckle from sounding flat and hollow.

He placed his forehead against the cushion of his arms and took a deep, painful breath.

He supposed he would have to find a way to get out of the cave.

As far as he could see, there was more to the cave, and hopefully, it would lead him out.

There were a few rations in his supplies, but he was going to need more than a few pieces of dried meat and water if he wanted to survive.

“Gotta get my ass moving,” Sean muttered.

He remained sitting there, however, curled up as he shivered. The wind howled faintly above him, whistling through the crag he’d bumped through on his way down. The chances of his team being able to find him were minimal, and he was going to have to find out how to save himself.

Sean closed his eyes, telling himself his team was going to be okay.

No matter what issues they were having, they were ultimately survivors.

Ricardo knew how to lead them if it came down to it, and while he couldn't believe he was thinking it, he was starting to realize he could trust Aidan to guide them.

Hell, maybe it would be Aidan who directed them to safety.

The man was so much more capable than Sean had given him credit for.

It was a bittersweet thought, and he didn’t bother to fight the encroaching darkness as he slipped into unconsciousness.

He wasn’t sure how long he’d been asleep, but the first thing he was aware of was that it was no longer cold. Worse, it was burning hot, and the grit of sand in his mouth mingled with the copper taste of blood. The sun beat down on him, making the shadows thin.

“Oh shit,” he muttered, wondering how the hell he’d ended up back in the desert.

It was the landscape of his dreams, probably the same one that had haunted Nick. Sean pushed himself up, ignoring the ache in his shoulders and the throbbing in his back. A few feet away, Nick sat huddled, eyes wide, and locked on something to Sean’s right.

Sean knew this dream and what lay on his other side.

It was the same every time, playing out the same memory.

He and Nick had been the ones to see it happen, and they had witnessed the greatest blow.

Why his mind decided to play it over and over in his head, night after night, Sean could only guess it was his punishment.

Knowing he would have to look, as he always did, Sean turned.

There, at the foot of a dune, lay Clint.

Like the rest of them, his equipment was dirty, covered in soot, and speckled with sand.

Unlike the rest of them, though, he was on his back, eyes distant, and the sand beneath him was stained the ugliest shade of red Sean had ever seen.

“Clint,” Sean hissed, scooting forward, just as he’d done that fateful day, and took his friend’s hand.

There was no response from his teammate, no real signs of life save for the smallest of movements.

Clint’s bright eyes flicked away from the sky overhead, losing the dull, distant look they’d held only seconds before.

Hazel eyes sharpened, recognizing Sean’s face, and the smallest of smiles had flickered at the corner of his mouth.

Then the muscles went slack, and the light in his eyes faded to nothing.

“No, no, no,” Nick repeated from behind him, but Sean had no words.

It was the same every time, each and every night.

Sometimes, he didn’t remember the dream, but he’d always woken knowing he’d had it.

The memory replaying, with the same details, the same events, everything perfectly realized.

The horror of the worst moment of his life projected on the screen of his mind and thrown into repeat.

His heart stuttered when Clint blinked, turning to look up at him again.

Torn between the shock of the dream being completely different and the sight of his dead teammate staring up at him, Sean was speechless.

Nick was still babbling away incoherently behind him, and the sounds of Ricardo and Matt returning fire on the enemy echoed around them.

But Clint’s bright eyes were locked on his face, remaining there for what felt like an eternity.

Clint’s eyes crinkled at the corner, and he smiled. “How long are you going to do this to yourself?”

Sean jerked, head thumping against the cave wall behind him with a heavy thud.

Wincing, he rubbed at the sore spot, looking around frantically.

It was the same cold, dim cave where he’d fallen asleep.

The scorching sands had been replaced with cold rock and the sounds of gunshots by the frigid wind blowing overhead.

Letting out a deep sigh, Sean sagged back onto his arms. His dreams had always been vivid since Clint’s death, but they had never been quite that unnerving.

In some ways, knowing he was dreaming of Clint’s death over and over had become a part of Sean’s life, understood and accepted in its routine and familiarity.

Having it change like that, having it be different was?—

“Fucked up?”

The all too familiar voice jerked Sean’s head up with a gasp.

Not more than six feet from him, sitting in a position not too different from his own, was Clint.

He looked exactly like the last time Sean had seen him while they’d been stateside.

He was dressed in that baggy hoodie of his, bright pink with a vivid purple cartoon character printed on it.

Casual blue jeans and thick work boots made up the rest of the ensemble, along with the familiar smile.

“What the fuck?” Sean asked, pushing back against the wall.

“What? No hello?” Clint asked, cocking his head.

Sean looked around, trying to find the answer somewhere above him, around him. “This isn’t real. Right?”

“I guess that depends on your definition of real.”

Sean snapped his eyes to Clint, frowning. “Don’t start quoting movies at me.”

Clint laughed, lounging back and stretching his feet out before him. “You always did get cranky when you got a little chilly.”

Sean curled up tighter into himself, whether against the cold or Clint, he wasn’t sure. “You’re...not real.”

“So you keep saying. Yet here I am, sitting, talking to you, all the stuff that goes against that theory.”

“I’m hallucinating.”

“Could be dreaming too.”

“What, a dream within a dream? That’s fucked up, even for me.”

Clint chuckled. “True, but you’ve never been quite right in the head.”

“Thanks.”

“I mean, look at you. What the hell have you been doing?”

Sean frowned. “Freezing my ass off, you?”

“Being dead.”

Sean’s shoulders sagged, averting his eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“For what? Because I died? We all knew there was a good chance one or all of us could die at any time.”

Sean’s face scrunched up, chest aching. “You died because of me.”

“Because you didn’t predict the bullet in time? Because you didn’t have some psychic premonition that my death was waiting for me at the next volley? C’mon, Sean. You always talked about how death was waiting around every twist and turn. How’s this any different?”

Sean looked down at his feet, shrugging. “I never meant...you guys. I never wanted it to be you guys.”

“Oh, so you meant you were going to be the one to die. Is that what this is, survivor’s guilt?”

Sean jerked his head up. “You weren’t supposed to die!”

“But you were?”

“I—”

“See, that’s your problem. A stray bullet happens to catch me just right, and you’re what, going to spend the rest of your life blaming yourself? This team needs you, Sean, our team. Just because I’m dead doesn’t make that any less true.”

Sean shook his head, clenching his eyes shut. “I don’t...don’t know how.”

Clint pushed himself up from the wall, walking over to Sean. “You do.”

“Really? Because I’ve been trying for months, and I haven't done shit but make it worse.”

Clint knelt before him, resting his hands on Sean’s knees.

“No, you’ve been punishing yourself for months.

Maybe it’s time to stop blaming yourself for what you can’t help.

Maybe it’s time to stop pushing everyone away because you’re terrified you’ll screw up again.

Because you didn’t screw up, Sean, it was my time, whether that’s fate or just the way the cookie crumbled.

Either way, you can’t keep beating yourself up and making others suffer for a sin you didn’t commit. ”

“We...miss you,” Sean said.

Clint reached up, cupping Sean’s jaw. “I know, and I miss you guys too. But it’s time you keep doing what you do best, what we did best.”

“But—”

Clint shook his head. “You really think me being gone stops that? You know damn well your new guy is as good as me and maybe even better.”

Sean frowned. “Not better.”

“And how would you know? You’ve been so caught up in wanting him gone you haven’t paid attention to shit. Well, other than his naked body.”

Sean’s eyes widened. “You?—”

Clint laughed. “Yeah, maybe I do know about that. And maybe I know that’s not such a bad thing either. Maybe it’s time, like I said, to stop beating yourself up and let other people back in. You tried giving your life for the guy. Maybe it’s time you let him be a part of your life.”

“This sounds like some rom-com movie speech,” Sean muttered, leaning into his friend’s touch.

“Romance him or don’t, dude, that’s up to you. All I’m saying is, whether he’s the love of your life or a trusted team member. Stop punishing him because I died. And stop beating yourself up because I died. It’s nobody’s fault.”

Sean sagged into Clint’s touch, shaking his head but unable to muster the energy to fight what his friend was saying.

Maybe Clint was right, and all this time, all his anger, frustration, and hate was because he’d been fighting the truth.

To accept that his guilt was useless to him, meant letting go of Clint completely.

Letting go meant Clint was gone for good, and there was nothing more he could do.

Clint smiled. “Now...wake up.”

“I don’t want to.”

“Wake up, Sean. You’re not done yet.”

“Clint.”

“Get up, Staff Sergeant!”

The final voice was different, not Clint’s, and not spoke gently either.

The command jerked him up, and he looked around wildly, even as his head lolled.

He stared in wonder at the foggy faces above him, Nick with the sharpest look of concern Sean had seen in months, Matt looking terrified, Ricardo looking downright frustrated, and Aidan, who looked at him with a mixture of relief and intense focus.

“He’s alive. But we need to get him warm. Go get the kindling,” Aidan ordered over his shoulder, reaching out to hold Sean by the neck.

“Aidan?” Sean whispered.

“Yeah, it’s me. We’ve got you, Sean, hang on.”

Sean looked around. “Clint?”

“Oh shit,” Nick murmured.

Aidan glanced over his shoulder. “Probably delirious, get the wood.”

That made sense, but Aidan was holding onto his neck and one of his shoulders, so why was his cheek still warm, as though a living hand had held it only seconds before?

It was his second to last thought as the darkness swam over his vision once more. The last thought was absolute awe at the fact that they had come for him and found him. At how determined and in control Aidan looked as he kept his hold on Sean, drawing him close as he kept the team in line.