Forgetting all of his training and everything he should have done next to ensure the safety of his team, Devon ran forward, dropping to his knees beside the prone figure. “Oh, shit, Finn.” There was no missing the fear in his voice. With hands that shook, he checked for a pulse and breathed a sigh of relief at the rhythmic thumps he felt against his fingers.

As gently as he could, Devon rolled Finn onto his back, and his breath caught at the sight of swelling and bruising around his left eye. “Jesus Christ, Finn, what the hell happened?” Devon ran his hands over his skull, searching for any contusions or swelling that could indicate a head injury or concussion. He breathed a sigh of relief when he found nothing.

Finn moaned, and his eyes fluttered open, and not for the first time, Devon found himself drowning in his beautiful green eyes and wondering why in the hell Finn was in the house. “Dev?” Finn asked in a weak voice. An ache settled in his chest. He had heard that voice in his dreams on so many nights, but hearing it now, weak with pain rather than passion, just about killed him.

“Yeah, Finn, it’s me,” Dev answered as he swept a lock of Finn’s dark hair from his forehead. “Where else does it hurt, baby? I want to get you up onto the bed so Sam can get a look, but I don’t want to hurt you.” A flash of hurt that Devon knew had nothing to do with his injuries flickered in Finn’s eyes before his anger apparently rose to mask it.

“It’s none of your concern where the pain is, and I sure as hell am not your baby,” Finn said, sneering the last word and Devon nodded. He understood Finn’s anger and accepted it to a point.

“LT, Sam’s headed out to your truck to grab his med kit,” Marcel said from the door. “You need any help getting Finn up onto the bed?”

Devon looked in earnest at Finn whose eyes narrowed, attempting to read his mood. “No, Marcel, I do not need any help getting Finn into bed. I can do that all on my own,” he said with a bit of humor.

Finn growled over the guys’ laughter in the background. “Get the hell away from me, Devon Roberts, I can make it to the bed myself.” Finn gritted his teeth and rolled to his side, a groan of pain caused any humor on Dev’s part to evaporate. Frowning, Devon swiftly swept Finn up and into his arms, wincing at his quick inhalation of breath.

Devon moved swiftly to the bed, waiting while Marcel removed the dust cloth, then laid Finn down on the quilt, absently noting that it was the same damn one he had used all those years ago. “Stop it!” Devon ordered as Finn started to struggle to stand. “Stay there, Finn, and let Sam have a look at you.” Sam put his med kit on the bed and opened it, but Finn kept trying to stand. Devon reached out a hand and gently gripped his chin, tilting Finn’s face up so that their gazes locked together.

“I mean it, Finn. Stop trying to move around, and let Sam have a look at you. Once we have you all squared away, you are going to tell me what the fuck happened.” A red hue rose up Finn’s face and his gaze slid away, but Devon gently turned his face so Finn had no choice but to look at him once more. “You are going to tell me who did this to you, Finn. I know what being beaten looks like, and you will tell me who turned their fists on you.”

“What do you care, Dev?” Finn’s expression turned bleak and he kept his voice low, obviously uncomfortable with the attention, and Devon’s heart ached even more. “You’ve had eight years to pick up the phone and see how I was doing. Now, last time I checked my cell phone, I hadn’t missed any calls so I figure you didn’t really give a shit. So why bother now?”