((TRIGGER WARNING: graphic attempted suicide))
"Go go go!" Scout raced down the halls, followed very closely by four of the others. Heavy, Engie, Sniper, Spy. They were all running as fast as they could, rushing towards the medbay.
Three minutes. It had been three minutes since Medic had left the common room. Two minutes since they'd interpreted the doctor's odd farewell. One minute since they'd found the note.
Too late, God, they could be too late.
Scout crashed into the double doors, only to find them locked. "Aw, fuck." He was about to kick them when Heavy brushed him aside. The Russian rammed his shoulder into the doors. Once. Twice. They slammed open on the third try. The sight that greeted them was horrific.
A medbay in total disarray. A stool that had been kicked over in a struggle. A noose made of bound medical gauze attached to a steel rafter.
And Medic hanging limply in the center of the room.
"Doktor!" Heavy bellowed, nearly tripping over himself as he ran up to the doctor. He quickly grabbed him around his middle, lifting him to relieve the pressure from his neck. Spy was right behind Heavy, setting the fallen stool back up and climbing onto it. He went to work on the noose.
"Merde, merde, merde…" Spy swore as he tried to saw through the thickly-knotted gauze with his knife.
"Bloody hell, get back!" Sniper shoved Spy off of the stool and slashed his kukri straight through. Medic's body fell limp into Heavy's arms.
"Here, lay 'im on the floor, and get that damn rope off his neck!" Engie rarely raised his voice, but now he was barking orders like Soldier. Heavy went to his knees, laying the doctor flat on his back and gingerly pulling the noose from his neck.
Medic's chest was still. His eyes were cracked open just the slightest, and were dull, bloodshot. The edges of his mouth brimmed with pink foam. But his skin was still warm as Heavy felt for a pulse. Faint and fading, but there.
"Still alive," he was practically panting with terror, searching his comrades' faces with a desperately lost expression. "What now?"
"Any y'all know CPR?" no one answered. "Aw, hell, alright, well, I know the basics." Engie joined Heavy beside the doctor, and Heavy quickly moved back to give him space. The Texan muttered under his breath as he went through the motions, holding Medic's chin and pinching his nose. He wiped the bloody spit from the other's mouth and leaned down, breathing deep into him.
Heavy watched Medic for any signs of life. Engie pulled back, putting a hand against the doctor's chest to feel for unassisted breaths. His eyes were closed as he counted under his breath, then leaned down again.
Breath.
1, 2, 3, 4, 5.
Breath.
1, 2, 3, 4, 5.
Breath.
1, 2, 3-
Medic made a strangled sound, back arching and legs scrambling for traction. Finally, he took his first actual breath. The breaths that followed were ragged heaves, desperate attempts by his body to replenish the oxygen it had lost. He reached out blindly, and Heavy grasped his hand, squeezing tightly, clinging to him for dear life.
"Все нормально…" the Russian sobbed against his knuckles, voice cracking. "Я здесь." Medic spasmed weakly, throat gurgling, and Engie rolled him onto his side just in time for his stomach to void its half-digested contents.
"Shoot…" Engie murmured, gladly accepting a towel that Sniper had retrieved and lifting the doctor's head just enough to slip it under him. Medic panted against it, mouth gaping, foaming drool dripping from his pale lips. Heavy once again pressed two fingers to his clammy neck. His heart was racing fast now but still felt frail against him.
"Do not think Doktor is getting enough air…" almost as soon as the words left his mouth, Medic's breaths quickened with sudden panic and he weakly grabbed at his throat, coughing and gasping weakly, kicking his legs again. Heavy turned the doctor onto his back once more and pulled his frantic hands away from the fresh ligature wounds, holding them tightly while Engie tried to still his legs.
"Scout, find an oxygen tank!" Spy suddenly ordered as he knelt to help Engie and Heavy calm the squirming man. Scout scrambled off faster than he had ever moved before. It didn't take him long to find what he needed, and he was back in seconds.
"Here, here, dere's a mask an' everything…" the boy handed the equipment off to Engie, who was quick to hold the green plastic mask to Medic's mouth and wrench the valve open. Its effect was practically immediate. The doctor's frantic movements slowed, and his uneven heaving gradually faded to deep breaths of air. His eyelids fluttered shut as his body finally relaxed.
"Dieu merci..." Spy sighed, standing and brushing a hand across his pant legs. His concern for Medic's recovering lungs won out over the temptation to calm his nerves with a cigarette. But his concern didn't delve deep enough to keep him from excusing himself entirely. With the good doctor finally returning to full health, Scout and Sniper eventually let themselves out as well.
"Think you can handle it from here, big guy?" Engie had pushed himself up to standing, a hand clapped on Heavy's shoulder. The Russian nodded, cradling the fragile doctor in one arm and holding the oxygen mask to his face with the other.
"Da," he looked up at the Texan, giving a tired smile. "Thank you. For help." His smile was returned.
"Of course, pardner," he tipped his hardhat, looking down at Medic again. "Take good care of him, ya hear?" A soft chuckle. "I'm just messin', I know you will." He gave Heavy's shoulder a pat before leaving him alone with Medic.
Silence fell over the medbay. The only sounds were the electric hum of the fluorescent lights and the hiss of the oxygen tank. Heavy ghosted his thumb over the dark purple gouges carved into Medic's throat as he held the mask to him. Left alone with his thoughts, darkness started to overcome him. He watched the doctor's face, trying to fathom what could have possibly caused this. He knew his past wasn't a pleasant one, and he had his fair share of mental health problems, but… God, had he really been this blind? Had it really gotten this bad?
"H… Hea… vy…"
Medic could barely croak. His voice was raspy, choked. Heavy could barely hear him, but he did.
"Doktor…" he murmured in reply. Medic cracked his eyes open. Though he looked exhausted, there was something alive about them. A soft brightness. Heavy nearly cried again. "Are feeling better?"
"Ja…" Medic cleared his throat with a hard swallow, pushing the mask away from his face. Heavy lowered it hesitantly. "I vill… I'll be okay." He went quiet for a few moments, resting his head against Heavy's chest and breathing deep. "... I'm… sorry…"
Heavy kissed the top of Medic's head, closing his eyes. "Shh… Just rest, Doktor." He held the doctor closer to him, close enough to feel the smaller man's heart thumping against him. His heartbeat was finally returning to normal. Strong and even. A few tears dripped into Medic's soft black hair.
"Just rest…"