Sonny and Emily were thrown into a concrete room. The masks were removed from their heads and the wrist restraints severed. The soldiers still held them at gunpoint as two other soldiers came and removed most of their gear.
"Hey! Take your hands off her"! said Sonny in a threatening tone of voice as he realized that one of the soldiers was letting his hands linger more than he should on Emily. The soldier simply ignored Sonny.
"I will kill you the first chance I get", continued Sonny.
Once that was done, they exited and locked the bolted door behind them.
Emily who had been standing straight until that moment, refusing to show weakness, leaned back against the wall, and let out a groan of pain. Sonny saw the large blood stain on her shirt.
He walked over to her and finally got a good look at her. Her head laceration was clotting which was a good thing. Blood was trickling down the side of her arm and then this massively growing blood stain on her upper left quadrant.
"How are you doing there, Captain"? he said as he tried to assess through her shirt what had been touched.
"I've known better days", replied Emily. "Can you cut the Captain crap"?
He grinned. "As you wish My Lady".
She rolled her eyes.
"Hey, you told me to cut the Captain, so there you go", he paused for a second and resumed a more serious attitude, "How badly are you hit"?
"Pretty bad I think".
The door opened suddenly, and something was thrown into the room, before closing back up. Sonny blinked and realized that they sent a First Aid Kit inside the room.
He walked over to the middle of the room and took it in his hands before returning by Emily's side.
He lifted the hem of Emily's camo shirt.
"Whoa! What are you doing"?
Sonny looked at her. "What? I've seen a woman in a bra before".
"Where? In a strip club"?
He frowned. "I'm disappointed that you would think such a thing".
"Why? It's true isn't it"?
"Remind me to take this up with Jason".
"It wasn't Jason who told me, it was Eric. And I'm sure there was also Lizzie".
"What you've been spying on me"?
"No, but news travels fast on a base and unfortunately Lizzie has a very big mouth and you're not the first".
"Ouch, that hurt my ego, but thanks for letting me know. In all honesty, I hadn't planned on asking her to marry me".
He took a step back. "Look, I may appear to be a womanizer but it's not the case. I am also a bit rough around the edges and I like to joke around, but taking your shirt off right now is not something I'm comfortable with".
"You just said you go strip clubs and in the end you're not comfortable with this situation. I'm confused. Why"?
"For multiple reasons, but that's not important right now. If you don't want to bleed out, you're going to have to trust me, alright"?
She nodded and watched as he once again grabbed the hem of her shirt between his fingers and gently lift it upward. As he reached the wound site, it stuck to her skin because it was drenched. He continued slowly and gently until it was high enough to see the gunshot wound and completely off. He bent his knees to get a better angle. It was slightly above her breast, and if his recollection of anatomy were correct, there was no internal organ there which was a good thing. Yet he knew it would be better to remove the bullet if he could see it.
He kneeled and put the pair of gloves that was in the kit.
He stood up straight and locked eyes with her. "This will most probably hurt, but I need to check".
She said nothing but nodded.
He placed his hand around the entry wound and spread the skin a bit. He felt her tense up and a guttural groan escape from her mouth. He put his fingertip inside and felt around.
He took his finger out. This was the moment when he wished her was Trent. Trent was more experienced than he was.
"I feel the bullet, it's not too deep. I think I can take it out".
"Do it", she said.
"Sorry but we weren't provided any morphine or alcohol. And our clinic doesn't give lollypops either".
She tried to smile, but it was hard to do. "Just get it over with", she replied appreciating that he was trying to lessen her tension.
He knelt and took the tweezers from the kit and then returned to her chest.
As he entered them inside, he heard her gasp and her hand instinctively grabbed on to his broad shoulder. He kept going regardless of the increasing volume of her groaning, that inevitably turned into crying and as tears of excruciating pain fell from her cheeks and were absorbed by his shirt.
After what seemed like the longest 4 minutes of his life, he pulled the bullet out and felt her legs buckle. He let go of the tweezers just in time to put his strong supporting arm around her, as her body gave in.
"I got you", he said as he held her. Still holding her he helped her sit down on the ground, with her back to the wall.
He held on to her for as long as it took for her to recuperate.
"I'm sorry", she said still a bit short of breath.
He brushed a tear that was resting on her cheek. "Never apologize for this".
He leaned out and pulled the kit next to him. He took the pads, bandages, and adhesive tape. He very delicately placed the bandage and helped her put her shirt back in place. He then did the same to her arm where the bullet had grazed. He checked his arm, but it was superficial and no longer bleeding.
In the end, he knew, that the bullet he had removed from her chest had been meant for him and considering the position of the impact, it would have been the bullet that killed him. She was the sole reason why he was still alive.
Emily was exhausted. The bullet extraction, the intense pain and now the dull pain she was feeling had taken it's toll on her. She closed her eyes.
"Come here", she heard. She opened her eyes and she saw that Sonny had settled a bit further down against the wall in the corner of the room. She scooted until she was at his side. He lifted and opened his arm out. Under other circumstances she would have refused but she didn't have the strength to.
She settled in his chiseled arm and let her head gently rest on his athletic chest.
He held on to her protectively. She had saved his life and shielded him, and it was now his turn, even if it meant that his life depended on it. It wasn't until he was certain that she was asleep that he in turn allowed himself to let the exhaustion take over.