Colin took as many pictures as he could from his safe place on top of the truck. Maybe "safe place" wasn't the best phrase for his position. So far none of the enemy belligerents—in this case members of the Hasm Movement—bothered to look up. That didn't mean they wouldn't. Colin, Ed, and Mansur were as camouflaged as they could be up here, but given that Ed was raining hot lead down at enemy fighters, the camouflage could only be so effective.

He made a mental note to do a story about Ed, or at least about snipers in general. On the surface, it looked like a safer job. They sat a good distance from the action and didn't have to engage up close and personal with the enemy. At the same time, these guys left themselves in an extremely vulnerable position. They had to concentrate so completely on the task at hand that they'd never notice if an enemy came up behind them, and their job forced them to lie in an extremely compromising position.

What must it be like inside the mind of a man who put himself out there in such a way, day in and day out? Who could expose himself like that, and just trust to the universe that all would be well? Colin couldn't. He didn't know many people who could. Ed was the only one. It either took an act of extreme bravery or extreme arrogance.

Ed tensed beside him. A flash erupted from the front of Ed's long-range rifle, and an enemy soldier with a hand grenade fell to the ground before he could pull the pin. Ed didn't react. He didn't show any signs he'd even noticed what he'd just done. He shifted position, adjusted his aim, and tensed again. Another flash, another report, and the Hasm Movement operative advancing on Hopper collapsed into a heap.

That man had been the last of the Hasm Movement fighters they needed to mop up today. They hadn't left any of them alive behind them. If they'd gone against Egyptian forces, things might have been different. They'd made the mistake of attacking a bus full of American tourists, killing thirty of them. The Egyptian government had been more than happy to let Americans deal with them after that.

Colin joined in the effort to collect the bodies in the end. His training told him to observe and report only, but he'd always felt weird about that. Sure, he shouldn't try to make news happen. He shouldn't pick up a gun unless his life was on the line. He couldn't lounge around like some kind of desert lizard while these other guys, who'd been fighting hard, did the dirty work of loading sixty corpses into a truck.

He slid into the passenger seat when Ed got behind the wheel of one of the transports. Van Heel took the gunner's position, and a few guys filled in around the back. Mansur rode with Chief and DeWitt, and Hopper and Kulkarni drove the corpses.

Colin almost fell asleep as soon as the truck started moving. This fatigue thing was getting out of hand, coming on for something like six weeks now, and he was just about at his wit's end. It was embarrassing, and if he didn't get a handle on it soon he was going to lose his job. Maybe one of the Navy doctors at the MRU would be willing to talk to him.

A little dose of adrenaline jolted him awake when he heard one of the guys, Tinker snort. "Okay, help me out here. We're fighting the bad guys for Egypt, but we're hiding one of Egypt's bad guys from Egypt? How's that work again?"

Ed heaved a mighty sigh. "Look. I don't like it either. We can't afford to piss Egypt off, okay? That said, you know how things get around here. How long did they throw those reporters in jail for? Two years?"

"Reporters are always sticking their noses where they don't belong. They probably had it coming." Toledano yawned. "Come on, man. You know we shouldn't be messing around behind the government's back when it comes to an ally. This is like big, international incident, shut down the MRU kind of bad."

Colin's mouth had become as dry as the desert around them. He stared straight ahead. "So you're willing to sacrifice people, human lives, for the sake of diplomacy?" His hands ran with sweat. If he tried to wipe them on his pants or something, he'd give away his weakness.

Floyd scoffed. "Oh come on. They'll give him a slap on the wrist. The guy's got Olympic medals, for Christ's sake."

"So do I." All noise in the vehicle went silent. Even the engine quieted down. "And if you think being an American got me better treatment somehow, in that festering hole of a jail, I've got some prime oceanfront real estate for you in Arizona. If they weren't willing to keep me safe—an American, with name recognition—what the fuck makes you think they'd think twice about dropping Mansur out of a plane over the Red Sea? Or worse?"

Ed wrapped his hands around the steering wheel. His knuckles were white. Colin hated to do this to Ed, to remind him of the things that had happened to him when Ed couldn't be there, but he didn't have a choice right now.

"Come on, Church. I get he's your buddy, and you're in the same line of work, but you have to admit he's just one guy. You can't risk everything the country stands for because of one guy." He squirmed. Colin could hear the springs of his seat creaking with the weight of his discomfort.

"They held me down and took turns jumping onto my chest. With their boots on. I could feel my ribs crunching." Colin gripped the passenger assist bar. "They liked to take a metal bar and beat the soles of my feet too. This man stood up with you. He's stood beside you while you had guns and he had jack shit—he had a damn camera, but he was willing to wear the same flag as you were and take the same risks you are. That man has given you information that has kept you alive, and he withheld information from others that allowed you to pursue your goal. A goal that benefits America a hell of a lot more than it benefits Egypt, I should add.

"And now you sit there behind me, you with four different guns on your person to defend yourself, and however many knives, and you say that he's not worth fighting for. That I'm not worth fighting for, because the only difference between him and me is that it hasn't happened to him yet. That man saved my life. And even though you're supposed to be big bad SEALs, you're not willing to lift a finger because it might be politically inconvenient."

Colin was shaking. He didn't know if he was shaking with rage, or with the power of the memories of his time in Tora Prison, or simply from fatigue.

Tinker's voice was brittle. He sounded like he spoke from behind clenched teeth. "I'm afraid it doesn't work like that."

"It works exactly like that. You have an opportunity to do the right thing, in the absence of orders to the contrary." He took a deep breath and tried to focus on things he could see, or at least confirm with one of his senses. He could see road dust. He could smell engine grease, gas, and sweat. He could feel the uncomfortable seat under his ass. He could taste the bitter flavor of old coffee and garlic in the back of his mouth. He could hear the roar of the engine.

"Agree to disagree." Tinker snapped the words out after a second. "And only a selfish little—"

"Do not finish that sentence, Tinker." Ed's words were more of a growl than anything else.

Someone smacked Tinker's shoulder. "Damn, Tinker, someone must have had a lucky shot ricochet off your helmet." Floyd scoffed at his buddy. "Never mind that it's okay to have two different perspectives—and yeah, I did figure he'd get a slap on the wrist. I've been set straight.”

"But damn. Someone sits there and tells you about how they got tortured, and that dude saved their life, and all you can say is how much you don't care? Dude. No. Just no. That ain't what this country is supposed to stand for, and that sure as hell isn't what I stand for." Something rustled in the back seat, and when Colin glanced in the mirror he could see Floyd had changed to a seat on the other side of the truck.

Tears sprang to his eyes. He was elated that someone believed him. Mansur had believed him, of course. Plenty of people in Egypt would have believed him, but it hadn't mattered then. Everyone had their own stories. He'd written about it for the Times, but they'd killed the story. Who would believe, they asked, that Egypt would treat an American like that? At least they'd paid for his medical care. He hadn't bothered talking about it after that.

Floyd believed him. He blinked the tears back and kept staring straight ahead. Floyd and Ed had stuck up for him. It was enough.

They dropped the bodies off at the Zeinhom Morgue in Cairo. Then they headed back to their base at the MRU. They returned the trucks to the garage and then met up in the conference room for a quick debrief. The debrief had to be quick, because there wasn't much to talk about.

The case had been straightforward. There was no secret entanglement with European or American white supremacist groups. There was no hidden mechanism to poison human trafficking victims. There wasn't even any involvement with smuggling. No, this was a punitive expedition only, and the current administration in Washington didn't care who knew it.

Afterward, Colin pulled Chief aside. He thought he could feel Tinker's eyes on him as he did, but he didn't care. He wasn't looking to be friends with Tinker. He just wanted to save his friend.

Chief narrowed his eyes at Colin. "What's going on, Church? You look like you could sleep for another ten years."

"I feel like I could sleep for another ten years, Chief." Colin didn't see any value in lying. "When this assignment is over, I'm taking all my vacation time and using it for an extended solo date with my bed. That's not why I'm here, though."

"Is it the beard?" Chief gave him a tight, bland little smile. "The beard brings all the boys to the yard, I'm telling you."

Colin mouthed the words. "Er, could you maybe never say that again, Chief?"

"No problem. I'm trying to relate to the younger generation."

"Don't." Colin shook his head. "Anyway, it's this thing with Mansur. Some of the guys aren't on board."

Chief snorted. "This may come as a surprise to you, Church, but sometimes when you get a bunch of guys together they disagree about things. You can give orders. You can tell guys to do things, and most of the time a SEAL can be relied on to actually do them. You can't order a man to think or feel a certain way. You can only tell them what to do."

Colin bit his lip to keep from shouting. "Of course, Chief. I just thought you should know that they're openly talking about the degree to which they dislike hiding Mansur among them. You know them better than I do. You know how much you can trust them to keep the secret. I figured it would be better to be open and honest, and to keep you up to speed on what they're saying when you're not around, rather than have it come as a surprise when they sell Mansur out and it blows up in all of our faces."

Chief pursed his lips. "Are you trying to convince me to keep your buddy or to give him up?"

Colin let out a muffled cry of frustration. What was with these SEALs, that they couldn't just listen? "I'm telling you that some of your men are having thoughts about giving him up, and I'm not sure they're willing to wait for you to come to the same conclusion."

Chief smirked. "Well, why didn't you just say so, Church?" He half sat on the desk in front of him. "I'll keep an eye out for you. I'm not going to let them sell your buddy out. He's come through for us too often. For what it's worth, we do as a unit have some experience with this kind of thing. Humor me for a second. How are you feeling?"

"Tired." Colin snapped out the word. "Why?"

Chief muffled a snicker behind his hand. "Mmm-hmm. Tired and?"

"And more tired?"

"Let me put it to you a different way. When you got assigned to us, you were the definition of cool and collected. These guys put you through hell, and I let them. I apologize for that, by the way. It was bad form on all of our parts, but especially mine. We were dealing with something, now you know what it was, and we didn't welcome additional scrutiny.”

"Anyway. You didn't bat an eye, and you never once let us see you sweat. You just bit my head off for asking how you were. Floyd mentioned you ripped into Tinker like submachine gun fire, and lest you think he was complaining he described it as 'all manner of hot.'"

Colin frowned. "Is that harassment?"

"Only if he says it to you. Moving on. That's not like you. I could pretend it's just you getting used to us and our little ways, but let's be real. That's not it."

Colin rolled his eyes. "I'm just tired, Chief."

"Which has been going on for how long?" Chief stroked his beard.

"Maybe six weeks?"

Chief nodded. "Did I mention my husband and I have five children together, Church?"

"Five? Why would you do that?" Colin recoiled. "I'm sorry. That was rude of me."

Chief chuckled and put a hand on his shoulder. "We get that a lot. Come back and talk to me when this one's born and tell me what you think then."

Colin's world spun. "Wait. No. No, no, no. That would—that can't happen."

Some kind of evil gleam danced merrily in Chief's eyes. "Did I mention five kids, Church? I've seen this all before. But if it makes you feel better, you and I can walk over to the medical side of things. We'll talk to a nice OBGYN—they don't have any omega specialists on staff, but you won't need one at this stage of the game. And you'll take a test. I can already tell you what the test will say, but you should get checked out by a doctor anyway."

Colin ran out into the courtyard and threw up.

* * *

Ed watched Colin make a beeline for Chief. He wanted nothing more than to get some time with his beloved, time to take him aside and comfort him for what he'd been forced to endure. He thought he knew what Colin was doing, and he wanted to warn him against it. Colin already had a rough enough life here in the platoon. He shouldn't make it worse by being a blue falcon.

But what else was he supposed to do? He couldn't just sit back and let freaking Tinker rat out Mansur. Ed didn't think Tinker would be capable of something like that, but he hadn't thought Baudin would be capable of trying to kill Fitzpatrick's boyfriend either. These were chaotic times. It was hard to trust anyone these days, even their buddies.

He caught sight of Mansur in the distance. If he couldn't talk to Colin about what happened before, he'd do the next best thing. "Hey! Mansur!" He jogged across the yard. "Can I talk to you?"

Mansur tilted his head. "Are you sure you mean me? You've never been what I'd call happy to see me."

Ed had to acknowledge that. "Yeah. Yeah, you're right. I've been a jealous little bitch. I've got my reasons. Still. I think we need to talk, okay?"

Mansur gave an elaborate shrug. "Why not? We can talk in my bunk. It's private, if intimate. Mind the cat. He bites."

They ducked into the small room. The cat hissed at Ed and ran to the head of Mansur's bed, where it hid behind his human when Mansur sat down. Ed sat gingerly at the foot.

"So, Ed. What brings you by this evening?" Mansur gestured. "I know it's not the wide open spaces, and I know we're both eager to clean up."

Ed pressed his mouth together. Now that he finally had a chance to ask, he could only squirm. His question was far too intimate. He'd hesitate to ask Colin, and he and Colin were sleeping together. He couldn't ask Mansur, when they weren't even friendly. The thing was, though, he had to know.

"So, you, ah. You sprung Colin out of jail." He released the words in a rush, a river bursting forth from a dam.

Mansur blinked and drew his eyebrows together. No one had the right to have eyebrows so perfectly groomed as Mansur, especially not when he was hiding out from his own government. It was unfair. "I managed to secure his release, yes. It was only because I was popular enough still, from my days as an Olympian. Times have changed, I'm afraid. They've secured their position and cowed enough people that they don't need to worry about angering people anymore."

Ed waved a hand. "Yeah. Yeah, I get you're in danger. I'm not about to try to sell you out, man."

"Really?" Mansur raised both of his eyebrows. His cat strutted around his hip and curled up in his lap, glaring at Ed. "I would have figured you'd be the first one to try to shove me out the front door. That taxi, by the way, has been there every day since I got here."

"We know." Ed grinned wryly. "Robson's been messing with him. He's found a way to pirate the signal going to the guy's radio and keeps blasting Thed Jewel at him." He shook his head. "It keeps him busy, at least. Anyway. Um, that's not why I'm here. He opened up a little bit, about that. I didn't know about his prison stint, before."

Mansur's lips rounded into a silent "o." "That's…surprising, I suppose. Or maybe not. Here, most people don't talk about it. Why bother?" He smirked and glanced at the door. "So many people have a family member or close friend who's experienced the same thing, whether under this regime or the last, or the one before that." He sighed. "And you never know who's listening, of course."

Ed looked down. "I don't feel like he told us everything."

Mansur shook his head, just a little bit. "Why would he? Would it change anything?"

"No." Ed swallowed and thought back to the conversation in the truck. "No, and it probably wouldn't change anyone's mind. I'm just—I don't know. I need to know."

"Do you really? He seems to love you well enough without you having that piece of him." Mansur stroked the cat. "That's his story to tell, and he might not choose to ever share it with you. If he doesn't it's not because he doesn't love you, or because he doesn't trust you. It's because he doesn't feel compelled to relive that particular part of his life again. And I don't blame him." He scratched at his stubble, eyes far away.

"Fair enough." Ed looked down. "I mean it's hard as hell to accept, but I don't have a lot of choice, do I?"

"Not really." Mansur chuckled softly as the cat started to purr. "I don't think he told me everything either. I know he couldn't walk, when he came out of that place. What you see on TV, with the camera crews and the huge crowd of fellow journalists there to support one of their own? His case received no publicity. Even his paper wasn't supportive. They weren't going to bolster a cub. Now the story would be different, of course. No, they literally just dragged him half dead out of the prison and threw him out into the street. Like trash. I had to carry him to my car and up to my apartment."

Ed fought down the flare of jealousy that welled up inside of him. "So he stayed with you?"

"Where else would he go? Yes, he stayed with me. And we got him back to health, together. I knew the right doctors, he supplied all of the anger and rage and determination you could imagine. To see him now, you'd never know he'd been injured that way. Then, I thought we were going to lose him." He tilted his head to the side. "Tell me, Ed. Are you asking because you want to beat yourself up for not being there to take care of him?"

"No!" Ed looked down at the sheet covering the bed. "Maybe."

"Don't." Then he laughed, a bitter edge coming into it that Ed knew all too well. "Easy enough to say. Not so easy to follow." He paused in his worship of the cat. "I felt that way for a long time, but he's not someone who's willing to be that guy—the damsel in a tower, protected from everything terrible. We journalists, we have a job. And it isn't so different from yours, if you think about it. You protect your country with your guns. We protect our country with information. Sometimes it turns out that we're operating at cross purposes, but at the end of the day we have that same drive. That same compulsion.”

"When you retire—and let's face it, you can't go around jumping out of helicopters and climbing cruise ships and what not forever, even if Chief is nine hundred and seventy—you'll still have that drive. You'll go on to do something involving protection. You might become a policeman in your country. You might become a firefighter, or you could teach people to defend themselves. I see your guilt about not being there to protect the one you love. We have that too. We will always, always, be driven to get the word out."

"But it almost got him killed once." Ed almost raised his voice. A baleful glare from the cat stopped him. "From the way you make it sound, I mean he could have died."

"He almost did. But he keeps going out there, even though he could make more money as a model or as a track coach. He's done some public appearances at track clinics, I know, that have earned him more money than he makes in an entire quarter at that paper."

"Tell me about it." Ed made a face. "I don't know what we're going to do when we get home. I hate having him in harm's way, especially when there could be a baby involved."

Mansur recoiled. "Are you trying to get him pregnant? Don't do that, Ed. He doesn't want that."

"He's an omega." Ed rubbed his temples. "I know it's not what he wants, or what he thinks he wants, but it's what his body is built for. It's bound to happen eventually."

"He can take steps. He'd be miserable, especially since he'd be in essence a single parent." He shuddered. "He loves his work too much for you to put that onto him."

"We're not trying." Something inside of Ed squirmed. They hadn't been trying, but they hadn't been trying very hard not to either. "Is there something you're not telling me?"

"There are a lot of things I'm not telling you, Ed. They're all details you'd rather not have. Trust me, as one alpha to another. You don't need to know every cockroach and every nasty guard from Tora Prison. You'll only make yourself insane."

Ed wanted to argue. He wanted to point out that Colin chose him, not Mansur. He was Colin's alpha, and he always had been even if they hadn't been willing to acknowledge it. Ed could fix things. Ed could make things right. If he knew what had happened, he would know the right words to say to make Colin feel better.

But Mansur wasn't coming to him as a rival. Mansur spoke to him as a colleague, or better yet as a fellow worshipper. Mansur still loved Colin, possibly as much as Ed did or at least close. Mansur was giving Ed the benefit of his experience, not trying to chase him off from jealousy. "Thanks, Mansur." He rubbed at his face. "I appreciate this. It's not easy to hear, but I appreciate it."

"I'm sure it's not easy to hear." Mansur gave him a sympathetic smile. The cat twitched its tail, not yet willing to acknowledge fellowship. "You're a solid guy, pure alpha. You see a problem, you think of a solution, and there's suddenly a straight line from point a to point b. For men like us, it's difficult when that straight line doesn't happen."

"You still love him."

Mansur chuckled. "I'll always love him. And I think he'll always love me, in his way. But his heart belongs to you, just as it always did." He grinned. "Even when we were in the Olympics together. I would get so jealous, every time he texted you."

Ed barked out a laugh. "And I'd turn green, like the damn Hulk, every time I got a selfie of the two of you."

"We're a pair." Mansur shook his head. "Go. Take care of your omega."

Ed didn't need to be told twice. He all but dove out of the claustrophobic little cell and sought out his lover.

He found Colin in his own little space, sobbing into his pillow. He closed the door behind himself, disposed of his rough BDUs, and donned a pair of sweats. After everything he'd heard today, he didn't think Colin needed to be around naked people. He could be wrong, and he hoped he was, but why take the chance? Let Colin initiate, if he was ready and willing.

He slipped into the narrow bed. "You okay?" It was a stupid question to ask, and he hated the words as soon as they left his mouth, but what else was he supposed to say? Sorry you've had such a shit day, and sorry Tinker was such a dick, but, um, feel like reliving the worst time in your life? Awesome!

Colin stilled in his arms. Ed considered fleeing. It seemed like a reasonable response, under the circumstances.

"What if I'm pregnant?"

Colin's voice was so quiet Ed could barely hear it. It didn't even qualify as a whisper. Firecrackers went off inside his head and his heart, but he had to push them aside. Colin wouldn't be happy about a baby, no matter what. Ed wanted to do a little jig right then and there, but it would only make them fight, and Colin might well kick him.

"Well, you know I've always wanted kids. And I know you never did. So, we'd have to work that out. But whatever happens, I'm right here with you." He rubbed little circles into Colin's back. People did that, right? They soothed each other when the news was like this? Even good news required some soothing sometimes. It didn't necessarily mean the end of the world.

Colin sniffed. "Chief thinks I'm tired because I'm pregnant. And he thinks I'm moody because I'm pregnant.'" He wiped at his eyes with more strength than was necessary, an angry gesture that risked eye damage. "And he does have five kids, so he's probably got a clue or two. He brought me over to the medical wing."

Ed's mouth watered. He'd always wanted a family. His own had been such an unmitigated disaster that a concussed puppy could do better. His grandfathers had made a patchwork clan and it had worked, but he'd always known what was missing. If Chief had dragged Colin down to medical, he must have been pretty sure.

Colin, though. It was hard to be happy while Colin was obviously so miserable. He ran his hands through Colin's brown hair. "What did the tests say?"

"They didn't have the normal test. They only had the blood test. They'll get back to me in a few days. What kind of hospital doesn't have a normal pregnancy test?" He sniffed again. Ed's beloved was not a pretty crier. That was okay. Ed would happily listen to him cry as long as he got to be there to soothe him.

"How long?"

"A few days. God, Ed, what are we going to do?"

"Love each other." Ed took Colin into his arms. "We'll get through this, Colin. We love each other enough to get through just about anything. Don't we?"

Colin stiffened, and then he nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, of course we do." He rubbed his face against the pillow. "Hopefully it's nothing, it's just a bit of anemia and a long nap and some iron pills will take care of it."

Ed didn't like the sound of that. If Colin was pregnant—and it would take a hell of a lot more than an "if" for Chief to say anything—he should embrace it. An abortion, in addition to being abhorrent at least in Ed's eyes, required the same kind of risky abdominal surgery as a C-section. Giving it up for adoption—well, Ed would sooner get discharged from the Navy and take care of the baby himself.

That wasn't what Colin needed to hear right now. "I'm sure everything will work out," he said, and kissed the back of Colin's neck.