A/N: This is going to be a short multi-chapter, mainly centered on David and Colby (NOT slash).
Standard disclaimer applies: Sadly, Numb3rs doesn't belong to me, and probably never will. I'm not making profit off this story. Don't bother suing, it won't be worth the attorney bills, since all I really own is a lot of Kroger-brand pasta and some used engineering textbooks.
Colby stepped out of David's black sedan, simultaneously adjusting his suit jacket and tie. David removed his keys from the ignition and then slid out. As David was shutting his door and locking the car, Colby consulted his notebook. "Keith Emmett," he said aloud when David had walked around the car to join him. "Friend of the victim's wife." David nodded his thanks for the reminder on the name. He and Colby made a great team on the job.
The pair of agents made their way up the sidewalk toward the front door. The neighborhood was obviously middle class, quiet, probably friendly. Mr. Emmett's house looked just like six other houses on the street, just different colored siding and shutters. Normal. Normal neighborhood, normal house, from what they could tell, all around average guy.
When David and Colby were about ten feet from the porch, the front door flew open, and a man stepped out. He was gaunt-looking, almost unrecognizable from his driver's license picture. But David and Colby didn't take in his haggard appearance; their attention was focused on the shotgun he was brandishing.
Colby drew his handgun smoothly, trying not to attract Keith's attention while David talked. The man held his shotgun in one hand, barrel haphazardly aimed at the ground. "Mr. Emmett, we're FBI," David announced calmly, soothingly. "We just want to talk to you."
Emmett raised, aimed and fired the shotgun before either agent had time to react. Colby immediately went down, but managed to fire off three rounds before the pain registered. By then, David had also drawn his sidearm, and with one shot disabled the shooter.
In seconds, David had disarmed and handcuffed Emmett, who was groaning from the bullet wound to his thigh. "Shut up, you'll be fine," David muttered in the guy's ear. Only then did he realize that Colby was down.
David made sure that Emmett was restrained before rushing to his partner's side. Colby was curled up, hands clasping his side. David immediately flipped open his cell and dialed 911. "This is Agent David Sinclair, FBI, I've got an agent down. I need a bus, address 134 Palmetto Drive. I repeat, Federal agent down." The dispatcher assured him that help was on the way, but David wasn't listening anymore. He'd made the call, now he needed to make sure his partner was going to survive until the ambulance got there.
"Colby, move your hands," David ordered. Colby either didn't hear or was choosing not to comply. David rolled the younger agent so he was lying on his back, then forced Colby's hands away from the wound. Blood was pouring out of the left side of Colby's abdomen, so David quickly applied pressure. There was no way he could stop the bleeding before the EMTs arrived, but he could at least slow it down. Colby groaned again, trying to curl his legs back up and roll onto his side again.
David kept Colby stationary to the best of his ability, but it was tough trying to pin the other man while applying pressure to the gunshot wound. "Colby, can you hear me?" David yelled, getting nervous that Colby hadn't acknowledged him yet.
When Colby didn't respond, David pulled one bloody hand away from his partner's gut to search for a pulse. It took him several seconds to find one. When he did, it was weak and thready, but fast. David put his hand back with the other to keep applying pressure. His own heartbeat was pounding in his ears as adrenaline continued to course through his system, but he could hear that Colby's breathing was getting faster. The former soldier's skin was pale, almost beginning to carry a blue-ish tint. Colby was in shock, his partner quickly determined. David's mind raced as he thought back through all of his first aid training. To treat shock, he was supposed to keep the patient lying on the ground, feet elevated. There was no way he could let go of Colby's abdomen to try to elevate his legs. David shifted from where he was kneeling, still applying pressure, but managed to scoot Colby's heels closer to his butt, so his knees were raised a bit. That would have to do for now. As Colby started to violently shiver, David remembered that he was also supposed to keep a shock patient warm.
David glanced around wildly. Where the hell were the paramedics? Shouldn't they be here by now? Why hadn't anyone else in this quiet neighborhood heard the gunshots and come outside to investigate? He needed some help right now, anyone would do. But no-one was available. Again, David lifted one hand from his friend's side and ripped off his suit jacket. He switched hands and pulled the coat off the rest of the way, shaking it off when it got stuck on his watch. Before returning both hands to the wound, he laid the coat on top of his partner, hoping it would help keep him warm.
Colby mumbled something, but David couldn't make it out. "What was that?" he asked softly.
"Dwayne," the injured man groaned. David was confused. "Taliban… convoy… RPG," Colby continued. David finally knew what Colby was talking about, although he had no idea why. Dwayne was Colby's Army buddy that pulled him out of a humvee after it had been hit by an enemy RPG. "Dwayne," Colby called out again, ending with another groan of pain.
David pressed a little harder, alarmed at how much blood Colby had lost. "I've got you," he soothed the younger agent. "Just hang in there, Granger. Just a little longer." David could finally hear ambulance sirens, although they were still distant.
Suddenly, Colby's body jerked, and he vomited blood. David pulled one hand free and scrambled up closer to Colby's head. With his one free hand, he turned his partner's head so he wouldn't choke on his own blood. Colby abruptly spat out another mouthful of blood, hitting David's sleeve.
David returned to Colby's side, desperate for the ambulance to arrive faster. "Hang in there, Colby. Hang on." Colby lost consciousness.
After what seemed like an eternity, two ambulances screeched to a halt in the middle of the road. EMTs jumped out and surrounded the agents. "Step back, sir!" one of the medics barked at David, but David was too focused on keeping pressure on his partner's wound. Strong hands pulled him away from Colby's unconscious form, his place quickly filled by two other men.
"Sir, I need to ask you some questions," the EMT who had hauled him away from Colby now stood in front of David.
David found it hard to shift his focus away from Colby and onto the EMT who was demanding his attention. He tried, but his mind felt sluggish all the sudden. Blinking a few times, David tried to concentrate hard enough to give the pertinent info. "Shotgun… left side of abdomen… went down."
The EMT nodded. "When was that?"
David shrugged. "I don't know. Just a minute before I called 911."
The medic nodded again. "What's his name?"
"Colby Granger. Agent."
"Status?"
His brain felt muddy as he tried to answer. "Breathing shallow and fast. He had a pulse, but it was weak. I raised his knees, applied pressure, covered him to keep him warm. He started puking blood, so I turned his head so he wouldn't choke. He… passed out right before you got here."
The EMT nodded and thanked him before turning back to the other medics working on the fallen agent. He relayed all the information David had given him in impersonal, clipped medical jargon.
Meanwhile, David glanced down at his hands. He was covered in blood up to his elbows, his knees also soaked. The paramedic, having delivered the message to his colleagues, returned to where David was standing. David didn't look up from his hands, but before the EMT could ask him how he was doing, David remembered Keith Emmett. "Shooter is handcuffed on the porch," he stated very simply. "Keith Emmett. I had to drop him. Shot his leg." The medic raised his voice and called for two others to take a look at the Emmett before turning his attention back to David.
"Are you hurt?" David had zoned out. "Sir, are you hurt?" the medic repeated, gently touching the agent's shoulder.
David shook his head, still looking at the blood covering his hands. The EMT apparently wasn't convinced. He took out a penlight and forced David to look up. David's pupils constricted when the medic shined the light into them, but the agent was still having trouble focusing on anything but his hands.
"We're going to take Agent Granger in. How about you ride along? I don't think there's anything actually wrong with you, but what just happened is a lot for your mind to process. It might be best if we keep you under observation for a while.
David nodded, but the EMT wasn't sure that the agent had actually been paying attention. As the other paramedics loaded Colby's gurney into one ambulance and Emmett's gurney into the other, David was gently led to ride along in the back with Colby.
As the ambulance pulled out of the neighborhood, David's phone started to ring. He pulled it off his belt and stared at it in his bloody hands for a couple seconds before answering. "Sinclair," he said dully.
"David, it's Don. Where are you guys?"
David paused before responding. "We're in an ambulance," he supplied.
"An ambulance?! What the hell happened?" Don exclaimed.
"Colby got shot." David's voice was deadpan.
"What hospital?"
David relayed the question to one of the EMTs, who gave him the answer.
"Fine, we'll meet you there," Don concluded before hanging up.
David held the phone to his ear for another minute, unaware that the call had ended. Finally, he clipped the phone back to his belt and returned to studying his partner.
One of the paramedics nudged the other. "Is he really alright?" he mumbled, pointing to David. The other shrugged before returning his attention to Colby.