Disclaimer: Anybody and anything you recognize is not mine.
A/N: English is neither my first nor my second language. Proceed at your own risk.
River: "We are born alone, we die alone."
Stevie: "You always say it, but there is more to this quote, you know."
He can't quite put his finger on it, but he knows, knows, knows there is something going on with Stevie. He feels like there is a thread he should be pulling at, questions he should be asking, words he should be saying. But he does none of it. He carries on as usual.
They eat their food. It is Chinese, for fuck's sake, not that much better than the burgers he often forces himself to eat because Stevie likes that stupid drive-through. Chinese, where every item on the menu tastes the same to him. But she's asked him to come. He's come. So, he eats.
Stevie counts points, as their dishes are served, and he is looking at her and is waiting, waiting, waiting. And nothing. And then they have a fight. No, not exactly a fight, just… something, which feels like a fight to him, because Stevie is upset, and he has no clue what it is he's said. Done. Not said or not done.
And then they are outside, on the street, and Stevie gives him the money. Ten thousand quid. "Take care of Frankie," she says, "If anything happens to me… take care of Frankie." He stares at the money in his hand, but he doesn't understand what it is she is asking. Not the words, not that. Frankie is Stevie's number one concern, always has being, always will be. But this, this money, and the way she looks at him, when she says it…
"If anything happens," Stevie repeats.
River opens his mouth to reply, but nothing comes out. Nothing at all. It suddenly terrifies him, because he knows, knows, knows he has to say… something. Frozen, he watches Stevie wait for his reaction, before shaking her head. She then takes several steps away from him, start crossing the street.
She turns in the middle of the road and yells, "Screw you, Mr. Magoo."
It jolts him, makes him take a step to follow her. Right in front of a white van. The brakes are screeching, the driver honks and swears through the open window. But River doesn't stop until he reaches her. "Screw you," she repeats as he approaches, "screw you…"
He is almost next to her, when she looks past him, and smiles. River turns to look at the car approaching from the other side, but he doesn't see at whom Stevie smiles. Instead, he notices a hand of the driver, reaching out of the car window. There is something in that hand, and it looks like a gun.
River has no time to reflect whether it is indeed a gun, or who is driving the car, or why anyone would want to shoot at them here and now. Instead, he quickly turns back to Stevie, grabs her arm, and pulls her close to him, so his back is to the approaching car, and his body shields hers from…
The sound of a gunshot is loud, and River's left shoulder explodes in pain. He cries out and squeezes his eyes shut to rein in that pain. When he opens them, the car has already turned to the side street, and is speeding away. It is too dark to tell the make of it or the plate number. River curses and feels Stevie trying to push him away.
"You, nutter, what was that…" she stops mid-shriek, her eyes transfixed on the smoldering rip of his coat at the left shoulder. She inhales sharply and repeats, but quietly this time, "You, nutter."
She is still very close to him, and he is still gripping her arm, and she is looking at him like it is she, who's just got shot, like it is she, who is in pain. And River forgets about his bleeding shoulder, and the sodding car that he couldn't identify, and he wants to say… He wants to say, to do… something.
But Stevie is already in a police mode. "Are you alright? Can you move? How bad are you hit?"
He scoffs and shifts his left arm slightly. "I'll live." Swallows, before continuing, "You…"
"Fine," Stevie bites out. She then rips her scarf off, presses it to his left shoulder, tells him to hold it, and drags him to the curb, while calling for ambulance and for back up. He follows, compliant, just making sure that his body at all times is between the street with the passing cars and Stevie. Who knows if there are any more psychos at whom she smiles before they try to kill them.
There are people coming out of the restaurant and from the nearest houses. They are loud, they ask questions. Someone brings a chair for River, but he only scoffs at it. Stevie urges everyone to keep calm, directs people to stay away from the road, and asks to come forward those, who actually saw anything.
Through it all, River forces himself not to hold on to her, not to hover, but he can't stop following Stevie with his eyes. And she can tell, and she tries to stay as close to him as possible, while taking care of all the police business.
The ambulance and the back-up arrive. The street is blocked, the people are interrogated, and the medics assess River's shoulder, while a young officer questions Stevie and he. By now River must've lost enough blood to feel a bit queasy, his shoulder is in pain, so he lets Stevie do the talking. He notices, though, she doesn't mention that she's recognized the driver, or the car, and that makes him feel even more queasy.
Chrissie shows up and speeds up the whole process, so that River and Stevie are finally taken to the hospital.
The ambulance ride is short, but rough. There are several sharp turns that make River's wounded shoulder jiggle enough to send pain shooting down his arm and chest. He moans through the clenched teeth, and Stevie once again looks at him like it is she, who's got shot, like it is she, who is in pain. She also makes several attempts to make his position a bit more comfortable.
"Quit fussing," he scowls.
She frowns.
"Just tell me who was in that car!?"
"River," she shakes her head.
"You didn't say anything to the officer. Can you tell me?"
"River, please," she begs, and he thinks that the queasy feeling is about to get the better of him.