Chapter 7 Jean Broody vs. Bradley Jackson ~ When desires explode: Stuck with the doctor!

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"Talk to me, Jean," Ty said immediately he picked up. "How's he doing?"

"I'm alive..." Bradley grunted. "But I feel dead." He added.

"You're in the best of hands." Ty chuckled. "How are you feeling, really? Are you in pain?"

"No pain. Unless I move. Let's talk about what's more important." Bradley's tone became chilled. "I need to see that bastard and his cronies suffer for what they've done Ty."

"And they will. Trust me..."

"I need to see to it, Ty. Stevens and Morgan lost their lives on my watch..."

"It was not your fault, Jackson," Ty said quietly. He knew how his friend felt.

"But I feel responsible." Bradley insisted. "How would you have felt if you'd lost any of us during a mission?"

"Don't ask," Ty growled, knowing he would have gone ballistic.

"I feel so much anger inside. Did those two have to die? And all because of some greedy bastards? I need to..." He trailed off, a helpless look on his face.

"Jackson, I'm asking you to trust us. Trust me. I'm not going to rest till the culprits are brought to justice." Ty sounded lethal. "You have my word."

"I trust you," Bradley said quietly. And he did. If anyone could bring those dirty people to their knees, it was Ty. "You need to come for the documents I recovered."

"I'll send someone to pick them up," Ty responded. "And Jackson?'

"Uh-huh?"

"You better make sure you do everything Jean advises, to enable you to heal well. I need you by my side."

"You got it." Bradley sighed.

"Talk to you later, buddy." Ty hung up, leaving Bradley wishing he could miraculously get healed that very moment.

When Jean came back into the theater after some minutes, Bradley quietly gave him the burner phone and closed his eyes.

"Are you okay?" Jean asked, wishing there was something he could do to make everything better.

"Where's the gun holder you took off my back?"

"It's right here with the others." Jean started towards the wardrobe but stopped and turned to look at Bradley. "Am I safe?"

"I'm not going to shoot you if that's what you're asking."

"Had to know, that's all." He muttered as he retrieved the gun holder.

Bradley took the holder from Jean and opened a compartment that Jean hadn't even noticed was there. Then he pulled out some documents which he handed over to Jean.

"Ty will send someone to pick these up." He then threw the arm that wasn't connected to the IV across his eyes and remained quiet and unmoving.

Jean placed the holder back and pushed the documents into an empty file lying on the table. "I didn't see any cell phone on you..."

"I left it at home," Bradley responded curtly.

"Okay." Jean could tell that his patient was not only upset, but he was also pissed off too. "Listen, everything will work out just fine." He said reassuringly.

"I just wanted to spare everyone the danger of getting a target on their backs," Bradley said so quietly, Jean had to strain to hear him. "I thought I could do this myself since it's a dangerous deal and I may end up losing my life. Better me than someone else seeing as I have no family or loved ones. I have nothing to lose. Now everything is fucked up." He rasped angrily.

"I don't think your team would want to lose you," Jean responded.

Bradley snorted. "You know what I mean. I just wanted to spare everyone. Now I'm only exposing them to danger. I hate that."

"You wanted to take on whoever you're talking about, alone. But you should know that two heads are better than one. You have to trust your team to see this through to the desired end. Isn't that how you guys are supposed to...roll?"

"I just hope nothing bad happens to them." Bradley sighed. "Can I stand at least?"

"Hate being on your back huh?" Jean chuckled. "Give it a day or two."

"Aw come on." Bradley groaned. "I hate that I have to pee through this thing."

"Looks like you hate a lot of things, Jack."

"Jackson!"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. You know what to do to get me to stop calling you that."

"It's Bradley okay?" Bradley growled. "But don't call me that. No one does. I prefer Jackson."

"But Bradley is such a lovely name," Jean said with mock sincerity. "Why do you hide...wait...Bradley Jackson... Oh my fucking god!" Jean shouted, ignoring Bradley's groan. "B-fucking-J? That's just classic."

"Do you mind? I want to sleep." Bradley cursed himself for telling a crazy person such as Jean his first name. He should have known he would connect the dots. He'd dropped the name Jeffery, which had been his first name, and started using his middle name, Bradley when he was a teen. It hadn't occurred to him just how silly his new initials was till it was too late to change it. Bradley closed his eyes and tried to tune out Jean's laughter.

"I've never been comfortable addressing people by their last names," Jean muttered as he injected some pain meds into Bradley's IV. "Of course if there's a prefix... What's your rank? Captain? Lieutenant? I'd be more comfortable addressing you by the name Jackson if I can add your rank."

"Call me any name you like, asshole," Bradley muttered.

"Great. Brad, it is." Jean grinned. "See? We understand each other. Now, I'll leave you to sleep. See that red button to you right? Press it if you need me."

"Don't hold your breath," Bradley mumbled as he felt himself drifting towards sleep.

And even as the SEAL closed his eyes, he wondered what he would do if because of his actions, more innocent people lost their lives. He knew he wouldn't be able to live with that on his conscious. Bradley welcomed the obliviousness that sleep promised because he knew that was the only way he could escape the terrifying thoughts that were running through his mind. He prayed for sanity even as sleep overtook consciousness.