"Rachel!"
Tom crouched beside her, setting his pistol on the ground within reaching distance. His large hand settled over hers, providing more pressure, the pool of blood seeping out of the black lace dress, over her small torso, covering the beautiful hotel carpet and matting her long hair. This was not how the evening was supposed to end.
She offered him a small grin, despite her white pallor and her pain. Her hands clutched to her shoulder, the doctor in her doing her best to keep pressure on the gunshot wound. Tom's bigger hand gave her reprieve, but also caused more pain, as she took a staggered breath. She hadn't expected it, hadn't anticipated the gun, though she'd immediately been nervous when the man had started to approach her. But this…this was not something she'd expected. She wondered briefly if this was the pain Tom had felt with the shrapnel. She suddenly had a whole new understanding of pain.
He noticed her strong grip on his upper arm as he pressed into her shoulder, trying to encourage the bleeding to slow. He took that as an promising sign, though the paleness to her cheeks made him sick to his stomach. She'd been alone for less than five minutes. Five minutes. He should have walked her to her door, he should have ensured she made it there safely, despite her clear joy in her new-found independence. If she'd had one more day with guards this wouldn't have happened. He shook his head slightly, his lips in a grim line.
"I guess those guards weren't such a bad idea," she managed, her mouth quirking up in one of her sassy grins, as she gritted her teeth against the pain. She tried to pull herself up to sit, using his arm as leverage. The pain was unreal, searing through every fiber of her being but she knew they needed to move, in case the gunman returned.
"Easy, Rachel, slow down," He blew out a breath in what could have passed for a small laugh, trying to keep his tone steady despite how fast his heart was beating, "You're bleeding pretty heavily, lay still for a minute," he encouraged, as he attempted to push her back down, gently. "Might I add, you had guards for two reasons. One was so you'd listen, and the other was for your protection," he deadpanned in return. "I think everything through; don't you know this by now?"
A real laugh escaped her, followed by a gasp in pain. She let him push her back down, her dark eyes locking on his blues, finding solace there. She knew, despite their banter, her blood loss was grave. She felt light-headed. "You're meticulous in your details," she complimented, her breathing shallow, "I wouldn't expect anything less. You can say 'I told you so'," another small smile, giving it to him with everything she had.
His eyes widened slightly at her words. He shook his head. "I'll say it later, when you've been stitched up and you once again have 24/7 protection," he replied, giving her something to look forward to.
"I'll never be alone again," she groaned in faux distress over the thought, though really, it seemed quite appealing at this point.
"You won't. I'll make sure of it," he agreed, his eyes carrying a seriousness she hadn't seen that evening. She knew why, knew what he was thinking. She was thinking it too.
"I'll still fight it," as she was fighting right now, gripping his arm so tightly her knuckles were white. He knew she meant the guards, but right now, she was fighting for her life. He felt sick.
"I would count on that," he repeated her words from earlier, because they were fitting. And he meant it. He hoped she'd fight. It made it more interesting that way. This push and pull between them. They'd always had it. She had to hang in there so they would still have it. "Can you tell me what happened?" he asked gently, though it was pertinent information in saving her life, and the lives of everyone in the hotel.
She shivered under his hand, and he knew he needed to move her now, he'd waited as long as he could and he wasn't making much progress. The blood continued to come through his fingers, his hands and pants from where he kneeled now covered in her blood.
"A guy, white shirt, brown jacket, jeans I think. He was sweaty, dirty. He said he was sick, needed the cure. Asked how close he had to be to get it," she winced, every breath brought a new wave of pain, "He quoted Sic Semper Tyrannis at me, the bastard," Tom couldn't help but grin at her tenacity, though he could tell she was beginning to fade.
"We'll get him, you have my word," he assured her, running a hand over her hair. She nodded, her eyes closing.
"Milowsky and Rios are downstairs," she forced out, holding on to him for dear life. He nodded as he slipped his arms under her, holding her close to him, his pistol in the hand under her back. She let out a cry that she couldn't hold back as he lifted her, the pain cutting through her. He grimaced, pressed his cheek to her forehead, the clammy feeling disconcerting.
"Sorry," he mumbled, carrying her quickly down the hall, careful around every turn.
"Don't be," she replied, a hint of a smile on her face. She rested her head against his shoulder, her bloody hair staining his blues, the red covering his entire uniform. She took in what warmth she could from him, pressing once again against the wound. Her head felt lighter once more, and she felt nauseas.
He made quick work of the stairs, bellowing once he was close enough, praying she was hanging in there. She was tough, a fighter, through and through. He needed her to give this fight all her might, one last time. He'd never let anything happen to her again once they were out of this mess. "Rios! Milowsky!" He entered the room, and the laughing and singing party came to an abrupt halt as looks of joy turned to shock and horror as Tom carried the bleeding doctor into the room. "Burk, clean off that table," he commanded, carrying her closer, everyone standing to help however they could. Burk, helped by Bertrise and Tex moved the bottles and glasses, as Tom laid Rachel down on the wood coffee table. "She's been shot," he explained rapidly to Rios, who was already pressing a throw blanket to her wound. Her small whimpers and gasps didn't go unnoticed by Tom, but he needed to be clear, "Green, Burk, secure the President. Miller, Cruz, stand guard at the door. Wolf, Tex, I need the perimeter scouted. The man who did this couldn't have gotten far," he turned to Rios, kneeling across Rachel's body from him, watching him inspect the bullet's entrance. Rachel reached for his hand automatically, and gripped it with everything she had, her head rolling to the side as she bit back a cry of pain.
"The bullet didn't exit, I suspect it's logged either in her shoulder or against her scapula. She needs surgery," Rios' words were weary, as Milowsky appeared with their medical bags, sliding Tom over slightly, the Captain still holding her hand.
"We can do it here, but it's not sterile—" Milowsky began, wrapping a blood pressure cuff around Rachel's thin arm.
"I don't have anything to knock her out with either," Rios explained, searching his bag quickly. "I have some local anesthetic but…" his words drifted off, as the Michener entered the room, Burk, Green, and two other guards following him quickly.
"There's a hospital not far from here, I've been informed it's in working order," He dispatched one of the guards to get one of the service vehicles. "What the hell happened?" The President asked incredulously, watching the doctors work quickly to stabilize Rachel, who was growing paler and weaker by the moment. Tom released her hand, standing, Mike making his way to his side.
Rachel reached for his hand again, lost at the disappearance.
"Someone shot her sir, we're not sure who. We've got men on the perimeter, working the halls. We'll find him if he's still here," he explained, sure of his words. "We need to take you some place safe," he began, his voice low, "until we find out who did this."
"Nonsense. I'm going to the hospital with you all," the guard reappeared, explaining the vehicle was outside. "There's no one else I feel safer with," he added. And while Tom wanted to agree, he also wanted to give Rachel his full attention. With Michener there, it would add to the weight of the situation. He nodded though, who was he to argue further?
"Yes, sir," he nodded, his attention moving back to Rachel as the doctor's moved quickly to prepare transport their fellow doctor, overhearing their words of how she'd need a blood transfusion, and how her pressure was dropping. He looked to Mike then, who nodded, stepping closer to the President, his vest on, armed already. Tom appreciated the gesture, stepping back toward Rachel to lift her to the car. He lifted her quickly, on Rios' count, a small whimper falling from her pink lips. "Easy," he coaxed as she struggled slightly. Good. She still had some fight left. "Stay with me," he whispered against her forehead. She grinned ever so softly.
"Now you don't want me to go," she teased, her voice barely a whisper. His own face grew whiter at her words.
"I told you to be safe. You just don't listen," he bantered in return, quickly lying her on the back seat of the large utility vehicle. He pulled back to let Rios in, who was carrying the IV bag, but her hand found his, her eyes wide and nervous.
"Don't leave me," she asked, in a moment of vulnerability and fear. His heart nearly tore, the words so quiet and tearful. He swallowed hard, tightening his jaw to hide his own emotions. "I'm not going anywhere," he told her, taking the IV bag from Rios and sliding in beside her, still grasping her hand tightly. He had been torn between staying with his men and finding the bastard who did this, and going with her, but when she asked, he couldn't deny her. If this was the last moments he saw her alive…he pushed the thoughts out of his mind, turning his attention to her face as the car moved off toward the hospital.
Rachel held his hand as tightly as she could muster. The pain, the loss of blood was overtaking her, and she knew it was only a matter of moments before she was unconscious. Rios had bandaged her for now, to stall the bleeding and to get her into surgery, but she knew it was dire they get the bullet out. She blinked, fighting the nausea, the metallic taste in her mouth, and the sudden desire to sleep. "Tom, listen," she started, turning her head slowly to face him. His blue eyes stared at her intently, and she tried to memorize every feature of his face. "If I don't make it…," she started, before he shook his head, stopping her.
"Don't. You will," he reassured her, despite the panic and the tears building in this chest. He's already lost his wife, he couldn't lose Rachel too. He held her hand as tight as he could.
Her eyes rolled back in her head, and finally, a tear slipped down the side of her cheek. She tore her eyes open one last time, the effects of the blood loss finally taking its toll. She locked her eyes with his, taking a shuddering breath, "I hope you're right," she whispered, before she finally let her eyes fall shut, succumbing to the darkness that beckoned her.
We'll meet an original, familiar character in the next chapter ; )
Thank you for SO MANY reviews, favorites and follows! I haven't had a moment to reply individually yet, but I will! I hope you enjoyed this chapter as much as the last! I know they're both a bit short, but I wanted to get them out asap! The next one should be up soon.
I tried to differ this shooting from the one in Red Flag, as far as Rachel is concerned, I hope I did the moment justice. Please leave a note and let me know if you enjoyed it! Thank you again for the amazing reception of this story and the encouragement!
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