So this chapter is much shorter than usual, but fact is... I bawled, and just couldn't work up the strength to write any further.
Chapter 6: Requiem
"Sarge, Reaper, status!" I strained to hear, to pick up something sane through the babble of profanity and panic on the other end of the comm. "Dammit, John, talk to me, please!"
"Angel," My knees went weak at the sound of his voice, alive and well. I grabbed for a table blindly as he went on. "Goat's been attacked. He's lost a lot of blood. We're inbound now; get the infirmary prepped." Just as abruptly as he'd spoke, John went silent again. I looked up to meet Duke's horrified eyes, knowing mine were much the same. Of all the scenarios that had gone through my mind when the screaming started, the one face I hadn't seen, the one man I hadn't ever thought I'd need to worry for was Goat.
"Dr. Grimm, they..." I trailed off, knowing there was no way I'd be able to vocalize what was happening. Duke shot me a concerned glance and turned to tell her himself. I took a deep breath and as I exhaled, forced myself into motion. I had to keep it together. "You're a professional, Angel. Act like one," I snapped at myself. With steps I told myself were steady, I strode to the table where I'd dumped my kit earlier.
Goat's been attacked. My brain felt like it was moving in slow motion, though my body had somehow taken over, stripping off my vest and zipping my coverall down to my waist in 2 swift motions. He's lost a lot of blood. Goat was O-, the universal donor just like me. We, were in fact, the only 2 members in R.R.T.S. 6 with that blood type, which is why we'd almost always been paired up for smaller missions. Goat had ended up giving nearly 2 pints for me when I'd taken a bullet to the thigh on one truly horrific mission. He'd saved my life that day. Get prepped. Being a universal donor was only useful if you weren't the one hurt. When you were...
...you better hope you had a partner who was one, too. I pulled my coverall off my shoulders and tied the sleeves around my waist leaving my arms bare for the likely transfusion to come. It was my day to return the favor, and save his life. A day I'd never known would come, had almost been sure wouldn't come.
This wasn't the rookie Kid, or even Dallas, one of our former teammates who'd had an unfortunate habit of collecting non-fatal bullet wounds before his lover finally brow-beat him into transferring to a less dangerous unit. No... this was Goat. He was cautious; he was extremely well trained; he was always in control. Hell, he'd been in the military longer than any of us, and was likely a better soldier than even Sarge or Reaper, for fuck's sake. He'd just... never wanted command. Never needed it. He'd once told me that he just wanted to do his job, to keep the people around him alive. To keep me, the soldier he'd most recently been mentoring, alive.
"He won't die. He won't." A commotion sounded outside the nanowall, and I turned to see a bed prepped and ready just as Reaper had ordered. The wall rippled, and Sarge and Reaper burst through, carting Goat between then. Even with Reaper's warning, I had no way of being prepared for the carnage. What had been Goat's throat was ripped apart like so much fresh meat, and I swallowed back bile at the sight. As they carefully lifted our teammate onto the bed, Dr. Grimm demanded to know what had happened. I steadied Goat on the bed and barely caught Portman's reply. Demons and devils... I couldn't know what Goat had meant with that, but 'Angel' could only mean me. I just hoped I wouldn't let him down. On the other side of Goat, Reaper began barking out orders as he lunged for the crash cart.
"Let's get this vest of him!" Destroyer and I yanked for the Velcro straps at Goat's shoulders, slipping it off him as gently as we could considering the speed we needed. Duke grabbed a wrist searching for a pulse, as Portman slid an IV stand toward me before I could ask for it.
"Got a weak pulse." Reaper didn't even pause to nod, just continued readying the crash cart.
"Angel, get me a line in here. Ready for direct transfusion." I prepared the IV as Portman and Duke slid Goat's coverall off his arm. My hands were steady as I slid the needle into Goat's arm with the ease of long practice, but they began to tremble as I turned to my elbow, seeking the large vein there. I cursed quietly; this was the absolute worst time for my ironic little phobia to rear its head. Portman yanked the needle from my hand and slid it carefully into my arm, not even bothering to harass me over my fears as he normally would. I nodded my thanks, choosing not to speak as Reaper barked for Kid to keep pressure on the wound. I passed the shaken rookie a wad of bandages, and went back to my own assignment.
"How's the pulse?" Duke shook his head, and I didn't need to hear him to respond to know what was happening. The EKG slowed to an ominous shriek.
"We lost the pulse." Reaper moved the crash cart again, his movements utterly controlled.
"OK, let's defib." He set the defibrillator to charge, and placed both patches without hesitating. The cart began to whine, and he lifted the paddles. "Clear!" I managed to grab the Kid's hand away at the last possible second. So, field med was definitely on his list of things to make sure he was re-trained in; Reaper would have been really pissed if he'd ended up with two patients due to rookie cluelessness. I bit my lip as Goat's pulse picked up, but slowed back to a crawl in only seconds.
"I've lost the pulse..." Duke trailed off as Reaper cursed, echoing what all of us likely felt.
"OK, gonna defib. Clear!" We all stared at the EKG as barely a blib registered. "Come on... No response."
"We're losing him." I didn't even recognize my voice.
"Sam, give me that adrenaline." With a full dosage of adrenaline in his chest, easily enough to send most men into seizures, Goat's heart managed to beat only a few times before the monitors began to shrill again.
"Come on, you son of a bitch," I whispered as Reaper barked that they were going again, his voice rough.
"Clear." This time when the EKG screamed, we could only stare, faces frozen. Reaper shook his head. "He's gone." Reaper turned away to kick some helpless piece of medical equipment. I didn't blame him.
My hands trembled as I reached up to close Goat's eyes and pull loose the lower dog-tag on his chest. I tucked it carefully into my pocket, and wrapped my hand around his, ignoring the tug of the now-useless needle in my arm. I would deal with that in a minute. Right now, Goat needed me for something else. God knew, I was the one of the few among us to understand Goat's faith. I might not have been Catholic, but at least I did believe... something that, in the R.R.T.S., was often rare. I opened my mouth to say a prayer for him and faltered. I didn't know the right one... Goat was Catholic. Wasn't there some specific prayer for the dead? One that he'd want... how could I not know it? It was strange, but that was the thought that finally sent tears pouring silently down my face.
I felt strong hands gently lifting my arm to slide out the needle and cover the slight wound with some gauze and a band-aid. John. Once he'd finished tending my arm, he softly gripped my shoulder, and that silent support was enough to give me the strength and composure to finally speak.
"The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want. He makes me lie down in green pastures..." As I spoke, the men stilled, listening out of respect for Goat, if not for God.
"Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil for You are with me..." John continued to stand beside me, offering comfort the only way he could. It was a way I knew wasn't easy for him; John only ever grieved alone. Had I not been there, he would likely have been standing to the side staring at the floor or a wall, trying to calm himself for the mission at hand. In that moment, through my grief, I could only be grateful for him, for the stalwart love that might just keep me sane through this loss. My free hand crept up to hold his tightly as I neared the end of the Psalm. I had to force myself to speak through the lump in my throat, as if, once I finished, Goat would truly be gone.
"And I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever. Amen."
"Amen."
Forgive me?