Page 6 of Zorro

There was so much chatter on the comms, Joker had to yell to settle everyone down. “Jesus. The brass is going to love this one. I’ve got a stretcher coming your way. Martinez, you fucking badass. Get your asses to the chopper.”

Twenty minutes later the chopper lifted off. The little boy fit in one arm, barely the length of his forearm, swaddled in a bundle of camo. This newborn was sleeping. Breathing. Safe. What a chaotic way to take his first breath.

Zorro didn’t look up as the chopper lifted off.

Blood slid down his ribs, but it wasn’t worth attending to right now. The child’s breath ghosted softly across his wrist. Zorro’s eyes never left his tiny face.

The mother lay across from him on the floor of the bird, her skin pale with blood loss, lips parted slightly. One hand pressed weakly to her bandaged abdomen, the other clutching the edge of the stretcher like she needed something solid to anchor her. A plasma line dripped in life-giving fluid.

But her eyes were fixed on him, wide, dark, and shining, like she was staring at a miracle and was afraid it might disappear. Her gaze moved slowly from his bloodied shirt to the baby tucked against his arm, to the steady hand still bracing them both.

She might not know his name, but she would remember his face until the day she died.

The stethoscope still around his neck, he checked the newborn and the mother’s vitals, satisfied they were both doing better than expected. The mom would need surgery, but the little guy was perfect.

There was utter silence in the bird until Gator leaned in. “Z…you are something else.”

D-Day wiped his hand down over his face. “Best op I’ve ever been on.”

Bear sat silently beside Flint, jaw tight. “You are crazy good, kola.”

Zorro didn’t answer. He shifted slightly, wincing, keeping the baby close.

Navarro, recovered but still pale, whispered, “Ele salvou três vidas.” He saved three lives.

“Anong pangalan niya?” Zorro asked gently. What’s his name?

The mother smiled, eyes bright with tears, her breath trembling from pain and awe.

“Anong pangalan mo?” she asked in return. What’s your name?

Zorro blinked, throat tight. “Mateo.”

Her gaze didn’t leave his. “Mateo,” she said softly. “Lyan ang pangalan niya.” That is his name. She said it like a vow.

Zorro released a soft chuckle, hoarse from her respect. “That’s a good choice, lady.”

Then Buck snorted. “Damn,” he muttered. “Asshole.”

The entire team laughed, quiet, breathless, the tension breaking.

Zorro grinned without taking his eyes off the baby. “Asshole? Does that rhyme with I love you, man?”

Even Joker released a quiet and rare chuckle.

Gator scoffed. “Only Zorro could pull off delivering a baby and getting it named after him.”

“Don’t encourage him,” Blitz added. “He’s already impossible.”

Zorro didn’t even look up. Just held the newborn a little closer. “Jealousy’s a bad look on you,” he said.

Joker’s voice cut in, low and steady. “I don’t think the Navy has a high enough medal for you, Martinez. Hoo-yah.” Joker’s shoulder squeeze and the soft hoo-yah from his teammates said the rest.

Professor, quiet as always, murmured, “Doesn’t mean he won’t earn another Navy Cross.”

Zorro’s eyes never left his namesake. “I don’t need any more chest candy.” He tightened his arm around Mateo, a breath easing from his lungs. “This is it. I love my fucking job.”

Fifteen minutes later, Zorro came in last, still cradling the little boy. The mother had been whisked away to be assessed, and her wound repaired, his shirt soaked through with sweat and something darker beneath it.

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