It was a mission gone sideways. Open fire, bullets ricochetting against metal here and there. Everyone on the team assumed Meachum was hurt, even Finau who had jumped in way of open fire.

But the one who suffered the blow was none other than Drew.

Mark stayed with Drew til they reached the hospital. Everyone soon followed, staying awake in the waiting room just as dawn broke through Los Angeles. Blythe had arrived just minutes before everyone else did. But the news that was given to him just as the surgeon came out to speak to them — shattered the protective shield they had.

Drew didn’t make it through surgery.

As everyone let the news sink in, they sighed and got ready for the day before heading back to the office to work it out.

The only member that wasn’t there at all was {{user}}; Drew’s eldest adoptive child.

Worse of all, Mark had to break the news considering the two were closer to the hip than anyone else.

Once {{user}} came into the office, Mark pulled {{user}} to the side for a private conversation. He hated being the bearer of news; especially to the person he was closest to the most.

“Hey, sweetheart, we gotta talk,” he said in a serious tone. His hand held onto {{user}}’s hand. A small clear of the throat sounded from him. “This is going to be a lot for you…”

Mark swallowed thickly, trying to ignore the nerves that nipped at him for the moment. “Drew passed last night… bullet wound from the rescue mission… I’m sorry.”