Contrary to what all three of them had subconsciously assumed, the first casualty of their team was not Gaby.

It should've been, she bitterly thought as she hugged her knees to her chest where she sat in the bright, sterile hospital hallway. She ignored the brush of her wisps of hair against her face and the cool feel of the floor tiles against her bare feet; she found blankly staring at the opposite wall to be more interesting. The gorgeous sundress Illya had dressed her in that morning was in tatters, but the men's coat draped over her shoulders kept her somewhat decent. She moved both hands from her legs to pull the suit jacket tighter around her, choking back a sob as the action caused the owner's favorite cologne to reach her nose.

How could this have gone so wrong?

Gaby was so distracted that she didn't notice the approach of one of her partners. It took her name being softly called several times before the woman raised her head blearily. "Is he-" Her voice trailed off brokenly.

"Alive."

She nodded robotically. If only she was a robot, maybe this wouldn't hurt so fucking bad. Gaby heard an exhausted sigh slip from her partner as he knelt beside her and reached out to brush the tips of his fingers against her cheek. In any other instance, she would've leaned into his touch, but after what she had been responsible that day… She jerked away from the gesture.

"Don't touch me," she snapped, missing the wounded look in the blue eyes trained on her. "I've done enough damage for one day."

The rustle of fabric signaled that the man had now taken a seat next to her, and deep down she was thankful that she hadn't scared him away when he rested a hand on her left knee. "Not your fault, chop shop girl. Napoleon knew what he was doing."

She knew he was worried too when Illya called him by his real name.

But nothing should have happened. It was too serious to be brushed off as an accident, and so Gaby was left to blame herself. Napoleon was her partner, too. She was the one next to him; she should have backed him up properly.

But fate would not have it that way. Yes, she had collected the necessary evidence for Waverly's men to legally swoop in on their target, but Napoleon was the one who had sensed the danger first. Napoleon had tucked her into the safety of his arms he shielded her from harm. Napoleon had taken a bullet to the back. Napoleon had grit his teeth and stayed silent as she dragged him to cover. Napoleon had protected her and she hadn't done the same for him.

"I killed him, Illya," she whispered.

His hand gripped her knee tighter. "Нет." The Russian accent was leaking into his accent more, leading her to understand that he was just as upset as she was. "Bad man almost killed him. You save both of us many times. He save you, too."

The image of crimson blood blossoming across the American's back overpowered what Illya said. She shook her head in a desperate attempt to forget. "I didn't do anything."

"You bandaged his wound. You drive him here. You keep him awake and give him a chance." He reached across with his other hand to tuck one of many loose strands of hair behind her ear before he stood and beckoned for her to follow. "Come. Do you not want to see him?"

Gaby let him guide her to the room as she stared blankly at his back. "He might not want to see me," she tried to argue as he led her through the hospital room door.

"Says who?"

The German's eyes widened as she looked up to find their suave American propped up in the bed, a pile of pillows supporting him. Not wanting to meet his gaze just yet, her eyes trailed over his chest, the criss-cross of bandages visible through his open hospital gown. Glancing at his face, she could see he was smiling slightly.

"See? Cowboy is okay," Illya announced, crossing his arms in mock annoyance. His true relief and affection shone in his expression. "Nothing to worry about."

"Peril is right," Napoleon winked at the man, sighing when he received no response. "I'm just glad to see you're alright."

"Me?" Gaby scoffed. "You're the one who was shot!"

Napoleon flicked his hand nonchalantly. "Not like it's the first time that's happened."

"That's not the point!"

"Stop acting like children," Illya scolded with a smirk, moving to sit in a chair next to Napoleon's bed as the other two stared at him in an offended manner. Gaby reluctantly rolled her eyes and copied his actions to sit on Napoleon's other side. She reached out to grasp her hand around his larger one.

"No more acting like a… like a knight in shining armor, okay?"

"Please, I thought Peril was your knight."

The blonde raised one eyebrow. "Russia not have knights. And, American version of knight is cowboy, like you."

Napoleon narrowed his eyes. "Sometimes I really hate you."

Illya and Gaby shared an amused look over him, and the two men knew that their behavior was successful in distracting Gaby by demonstrating that he was acting as per usual. "Whatever you say, Cowboy."