Disclaimer: I don't own Intelligence or any of the characters.
A/N: This is just a one shot of what might have happened if Riley had gotten shot during the rescue mission for the CIA agents at the end of episode 4. My focus is obviously not on Emily and her mission of assassinating Susan Hawkins so I want everyone to pretend that that didn't exist.
A/N 2: Let me know if there are any prompts or anything that you want me to write about. I'm willing to do so as long as it's Gabriel and Riley as the center focus.
He hit the ground hard with a loud thud as Riley tackled him behind the limo. Dust flew up into his face and some invaded his mouth and nose causing him to cough for air. The bullets stopped flying through the air as Agent Charlie Griffin took out the last of the Syrians and immediately helped Emily Tyner into the vehicle. The other CIA agent was already dead.
"You can get off me now, Riley," Gabriel told his partner. When she didn't move to stand up, he rolled her off of him and looked at her questioningly. She was sprawled out before him on the ground and what he saw nearly made him sick. A stray bullet had managed to lodge itself just under the edge of Riley's bulletproof vest. Two more were firmly stuck in the vest, one over her right ribs and another directly in the center of her chest. She was gasping and struggling to breathe.
"Gabriel," she wheezed out.
The agent wasted no time in yanking open the limo door and pulling her inside with him. Charlie was in the driver's seat and took off the instant he noticed the two of them safe in the back seat.
"Stay with me, Riley," her partner said to her. "You're gonna be fine. We'll get you on the plane and then we'll take real good care of you."
"What happened to her?" Riley's ex demanded to know.
"Three bullets," Gabriel replied. "Two hit the vest, but one managed to create a pretty big hole in her gut so if you would ever so kindly drive faster, I'm sure we'd all really appreciate it."
The car accelerated as Charlie rammed his foot on the gas and sped towards the awaiting plane. Putting in his earpiece, he contacted Jameson and informed the man of the situation they were currently in.
Gabriel turned his attention back on Riley, who was still fighting to breathe. The bullets in her vest had winded her and the bruises he knew were already forming would make it very painful to take in any air at all.
"Riley, listen to me. I need to you calm down. The more you struggle, the more that blood comes out and the less oxygen you'll actually get. So slow it down," he instructed. He applied pressure to the wound on her lower abdomen in order to stop the bleeding. They would be pulling up to the take off site within the next minute anyway.
When the limo screeched to a halt, Gabriel sprang from his seat and scooped his partner up into his arms. Running onto the plane, he sat down in a chair with Riley on his lap. The plane still had to take off and he was not letting go of her.
Shortly after take off—which felt like an eternity to Gabriel—the agent hurriedly placed Riley on a cleared-off table and began to remove her damaged vest. They didn't have a doctor on board and it would be hours before they even reached United States soil. He would have to take out the bullet and stitch her up or she would bleed out before they could even reach the ocean.
The other secret service agents and Jameson came over to offer their assistance. Gabriel barked out orders which were all quickly fulfilled. The agents came back with various tools, bandages, and towels.
Not thinking twice about whether she'd kill him later or not, Gabriel took the ends of Riley's untucked shirt and yanked them apart, sending buttons flying in all directions as he tore open the blouse. He needed to have an unobstructed view of the wound and the shirt, unfortunately, had to go.
The emergency medical kit on the plane was, thankfully, well-stocked and fully equipped to deal with almost any kind of injury. There was a set of small pliers in it that Gabriel had to use in order to remove the bullet. Riley had unwillingly passed out as soon as he began to dig around for the piece of metal. Anesthesia could not be provided so Gabriel was grateful that she had blacked out and wouldn't be able to fight him now.
The agent was no trained doctor. The only medical experience he had was patching up injuries that occurred in the heat of battle. He was essentially winging it and going off what his instincts and memories were telling him to do. The chip couldn't help him on this one; it's not like he could look up a YouTube video of how to remove a bullet in your partner's stomach without involuntarily killing her. Even if he could do that, which he probably didn't doubt there was such a video like that, there was no time to waste.
It was a long time before he was able to make the final suture and tape a thick, clean bandage over the stitches. There was nothing else he could do now. They would just have to wait until they got back to the U.S. and could get Riley a real doctor.
After he'd finished, there was a noticeable difference in the atmosphere of the room. All the agents had gathered around him as had former President Finnegan. A collective sigh of relief was heaved when he set down his tools and announced he was done.
"Is she gonna be alright?" Jameson asked him.
"For now…I'd say yeah, but as soon as we land, she's gonna need to go to a hospital and see a real doctor. Can you let Lillian know how the mission went?"
"Of course," the other man agreed and went to do as bid.
Slowly, the others dispersed after casting one last look at their fallen comrade. Finnegan was the last to leave.
"You did a great thing out there today, Gabriel," he told him after a moment.
"Doesn't feel like it," the agent mumbled.
The older man scoffed. "Nonsense. You were able to extract one of the captives plus an American woman and her child. Then you go and save this little lady right here after she gets herself shot."
"She's my partner," Gabriel defended. "I'd do anything for her."
Finnegan gazed at him curiously. "You sure you two are just partners?" When he received a questioning look, the man added, "It's just that the two of you seem to be a little bit closer than that. I've been in the political business a long time and I've seen my fair share of partnerships and teamwork from a number of agents. However, I've never seen two people perform so well together."
Gabriel shrugged, fixing his eyes his unconscious partner. "She looks out for me and I look out for her. Riley isn't just interested in protecting the chip in my head; she's interested in protecting me. I'm not a machine to her nor am I a computer or a robot. I'm just…Gabriel."
The former president didn't say anything. He still remained unconvinced and all that Gabriel had just told him only helped to reinforce the thought that he and Riley were slightly more than just "partners."
Seeing that Gabriel's attention was no longer on him, Finnegan left quietly to go sit in the other compartment. When the door closed behind him, the two CyberCom agents were left alone.
The table Riley was laying on was a coffee table that sat low on the ground. Because of its placement and height, Gabriel had to plop down on the floor right next to it so that he wouldn't be towering over her should he be standing.
Looking at her, he sighed heavily. She was paler than usual. The blood loss she'd experienced had drained her skin of its natural color.
Speaking of blood, Gabriel remembered he still needed to clean up. Before he could stand, though, hands carrying a bucket and a couple of rags came into his field of vision. Glancing up, he recognized Agent Barber, the short, dark-skinned woman that had been the first to greet Riley upon the beginning of their mission.
"I figured you'd need some help cleaning up," she told him with a kind smile.
He returned the smile and took one of the rags. He dumped it into the bucket filled with soapy water and wrung the excess water out. Grabbing one of Riley's hands, he wiped it clean of any traces of her blood, and then proceeded to do the same to the other. When that one was clean, he gently dabbed at the blood residing on skin of her stomach, taking extra precautions to avoid getting her bandage wet.
Agent Barber had been busy wiping away any blood she found on the table or the floor, deciding it was best to leave the CyberCom agent to take care of his partner. The two worked in a diligent silence that was neither comfortable nor awkward. When they were done, Barber gathered up all the tools Gabriel had used and dumped them in the bucket to soak.
"I'm gonna be in the bathroom washing this off my hands," Gabriel told her. "Can you just watch her while I'm gone. It'll only be for a moment."
"Yeah sure, go. She'll be fine," the woman replied.
Gabriel nodded gratefully then proceeded to locate the bathroom and lock himself in it. Turning on the sink, he furiously scrubbed at his hands, using an unnecessary amount of soap to get the blood off—her blood off. He watched as the red water swirled down the drain until nothing was left but clear liquid. Shutting off the tap, he dried his hands and then braced them on the sink, looking in the mirror.
His protector—no, his partner—could've died today. Riley could've easily died in the back of the limo. Her life could've slipped away as he was digging the bullet out of her insides. He could've been the one to kill her and in a way, he almost did. He was now blaming himself for her getting shot. If he had just been paying closer attention to his surroundings, Riley wouldn't have had to tackle him to the ground. She wouldn't have had to take the bullet for him. She wouldn't have—
"Enough!" he growled to himself in the mirror. "There's nothing you can do now, but wait for her to wake up. She'll be fine." He always did have a hard time convincing himself of something. Right now, however, he needed to put aside his own feelings of guilt. Right now, he needed to be Riley's partner—her friend—for when she opened up her eyes.
As soon as he left the bathroom and took his place by Riley's side, Agent Barber silently left the room. She knew when she needed to vacate a room.
Sitting on the floor, Gabriel took Riley's hand in his and waited. It was all he could do now: sit and wait. Wait for them to return home. Wait for them to take her to the hospital. Wait for her to wake up.
After several long minutes of silence, the man sighed. "Oh, Riley. Why'd you have to go and get yourself shot?"
"Because you would've if I hadn't," came the croaked out response.
Whipping his head to the side, he saw that Riley was indeed awake and looking over at him.
"How the hell are you even conscious right now?" he demanded to know.
She tried to shrug, but grimaced as pain flooded her body. "I'm a fast healer. Give me a couple weeks and I'll be good as new."
He snorted. "Somehow, I don't doubt that." Remembering that she was drained of energy and lots of fluids, Gabriel left her for a moment only to return with a small glass of water. Supporting her head with one of his hands, he helped her to sip at the cool liquid which in turn eased the dryness in her throat. She was able to now talk without her vocal chords scraping against each other like bricks.
"When are we returning home?" the injured agent asked him.
"Pilot said it'd be a few hours, but under the special circumstances," he gave her a pointed look, "he said he'll try to push the plane as fast as he can safely go."
"And how are you holding up?"
"Me?" he repeated incredulously. "I'm not the one that was shot. Shouldn't I be asking how you are holding up?"
"Normally, yes, but I did take a bullet for you and I'm sure your conscience is probably eating away at you right about now."
"And how can you be so certain of that?"
Raising an eyebrow, she replied, "We may've only been working together for a little while, but I know you, Gabriel. You don't like others getting hurt, not when you believe you could've stopped it. It was also you're idea to go back and retrieve Emily too."
She was right. At least, that's what he was thinking. It was his fault. He couldn't even look at her just then and glanced down at his lap in shame.
Seeing the distress she was causing him, Riley hurried to fix it. "Gabriel, look at me." He refused. With enormous struggle and minor pain, she managed to reach out and touch his cheek. "Look at me, Gabriel," she demanded softly.
He did.
"None of this is because of you. You didn't force me to follow you into your rescue mission; I went of my own free will. You didn't tell the Syrians to shoot at us and you most certainly didn't tell me to jump in front of a bullet for you. Shit happens, Gabriel, and sometimes there's nothing you could've done to stop it."
Staring into her eyes, he reached up and grabbed the hand that was resting on his cheek. Bringing their joined hands down to rest on the table, he gave her a tiny smile. "Well, I guess it's a good thing I have you, then, because otherwise, I'd most likely be dead five times over right about now."
Riley tilted her head to the side. "Yeah, most likely." She grinned.
"Alright, well I think you, young lady, need to get some rest," he told her.
She scowled. "Don't talk to me like that." Even as she said those words, her eyelids drooped and eventually shut. "I'm your partner, not a child." Then, she was fast asleep.
"Yeah," he smiled softly and whispered to her even though she couldn't hear him. "We're partners."
A/N: I hope you liked it. I know there's a ton of Gabriel or Riley gets shot fics, but I thought I'd contribute to the mix.