Chaos
They landed in a field near the bombing; there were a lot of fields in the small capitol. Angela was one of the first ones off, stepping off behind Jack with Ana at her back. In her arms were two poles, to go with the fabric in her backpack to make a stretcher. Her body was humming with nerves – she was here, she was doing this, what was she doing? – and she would stick to those men like glue, because her life probably depended on it. The little communication device in her ear sparked to life now that they were on the ground, allowing them to stay in contact even when they spread out.
"We're a little under a kilometer out," Jack said, his voice coming from the device as well as before her, "Ana, get into position and let us know what you see."
"Roger that, Commander." Ana replied, clapping Angela on the shoulder as she passed. "I'll be watching over you; try to stay out of trouble." She reassured, and then she was gone.
Jack called out more orders – most of which she didn't understand the purpose of, but then again, she wasn't the one receiving them so she supposed it didn't matter what she understood – before forcing the group to move out at a fast trot, a pace even she could keep up with. She felt a little exposed, following a step behind the two Commanders at the head of the pack into danger, but there was nothing to be done.
Once they got within a block of their target, Jack held up a fist. Gabriel responded by putting an arm out to make sure she stopped as well, though she knew he was telling them to pause – albeit that knowledge came from stupid movies.
"Ana?" His voice, barely a whisper in front of her, crackled to life in her ear.
"I'm in position. One sniper to the north and there's movement inside, no telling if it's friendly." Angela had wondered why a full team had been assembled for the extraction; surely there was no need once the bomb went off. The other three had explained that, in some cases, the attack was meant to draw out the first responders, before killing them too. They had a plan, and hopefully it would keep them all from getting killed. Jack made a motion with his hand and the rest of the team peeled off, splitting up as directed to approach from two directions. Jack led one of the teams, Gabriel and Angela taking up the rear.
"Ana, take out the sniper." Jack ordered quietly. Shortly afterwards, Angela flinched as a shot echoed through the air.
"Enemy down." Ana reported after a long moment.
After that it was chaos. Gabriel kept her back, away from the fighting, guns drawn as he peered out from their cover to keep an eye on the firefight. She hadn't realized how loud it was, with the gunfire, feet pounding on concrete, and screams from the injured or dying. Angela forced herself to keep her hands away from her ears, watching Gabriel and waiting for him to move her along. This was what she had wanted, even if it wasn't the way she'd wanted it; she only had one chance to prove she would be of use.
As the combat died down a short while later, with the enemy dead and their men moving inside, Gabriel directed her to follow him out of cover. The came upon one of their own, left behind like rubbish. There was blood down his chest and his eyes were glassy; despite that, when they drew level Angela knelt at his side to see if anything could be done.
"Angela!" Gabriel hissed. She searched for a pulse and found none, closing her eyes briefly before rising to her feet once more. He grabbed her elbow to pull her along. "We don't have time to stop; our priority is Bianchi." They didn't even know where the Blackwatch Commander was, surely they could stop for the wounded?
"I am this strike teams' medic, not Commander Bianchi's medic." She replied, raising her voice slightly to be heard over the chatter of machine guns. If someone could be saved on this mission, she would make it happen.
"Just stay with me, Angela." Gabriel said eventually, giving her arm a shake before letting go. "Please."
They entered the building, air thick with dust and debris from the explosion. The line was quiet, with a handful of reports clearing rooms, and the occasional gunshot echoed down the hallway. Angela focused on staying at Gabriel's back as he picked their path through the first room with guns drawn.
There were dead littered about, as well as one wounded woman that she could do nothing for, not without blood stock Angela didn't have; she'd landed on exposed rebar and was already nearing death. Though the wounds would be easily handled, the lack of blood would not; she couldn't even give the woman something to ease her passing, for fear of using up the supplies needed for the living. Pained, Angela let her protector lead her away from the dying woman.
"We've found him." A voice from the comm unit drew her attention, mostly because Gabriel paused and raised a hand – still holding one of those guns – to his ear to activate his microphone.
"Where?" He glanced back at Angela, as if to reassure himself that she was still with him, as if she'd have left his side in this hellhole. Okay, maybe she'd stopped for the bodies, but she hadn't wandered off like a toddler in a toy store.
"Two floors down, on the left." The man responded. "You should hurry; it's really bad."
Two floors down was harder to find than expected, with random debris blocking normal paths and forcing them to go through holes in the wall. It got worse the further down they went, making it apparent that the bomb had been placed on the lower floors, rather than the upper. Gabriel had put away a gun to help Angela over a pile of wall, since there was no other way down but the stairwell, when Ana's voice cut in.
"Enemies sighted. I count twelve, converging on the building." Gabriel's hand tightened on Angela's – an involuntary response to the report, probably – and eased her down carefully. Before he could respond, Jack's voice came to life on the line.
"Reinhardt, your team needs to keep them out of the building." That order was for the guard the two of them had passed on the way down, protecting their backs.
"On it, Commander! We will hold them here!" A booming voice with a strong German accent responded exuberantly.
"I'm bringing my men up. Reyes, where are you?"
"We're exiting the stairwell now, heading to Bianchi." Gabriel reported, leading Angela to the left. Bodies were on the floor, most dead, but Gabriel's hand firmly clutched her arm and pulled her past before she could determine which – if any – were still breathing. He holstered his other weapon and grabbed her again, pulling her along as he searched for the wayward Commander.
"In here, Commander." One of their agents stepped out of a room and gestured for them to enter. Gabriel hurried Angela within, turning to the agent that had led them in.
"Guard the stairwell. Don't let anyone down here." The man saluted and sprinted off while Angela took in the Blackwatch Commander. She paled and dropped to her knees at the mans' side like a rock, dropping the poles for the stretcher and ripping her pack off her back.
"Ga- Commander." Her tongue tripped over the title, so used to using the first name that was inappropriate for the setting. He turned to look at her, and then swore when he saw what she was looking at. Bianchi's legs were buried under debris, and there was no chance of shifting it without heavy equipment they didn't possess.
"I might be able to amputate." Angela offered half-heartedly, searching for the tools for just that. Mercifully, Bianchi was unconscious; she just hoped he'd stay that way. "But we need to get him out of here as soon as I do." She looked up at him. "I can stabilize him, but he won't last long."
Then her attention turned away from him. She vaguely heard him speaking on the channel to Jack, Ana, relaying her words, but she ignored it. All that existed was her and the patient who was in terrible condition. She propped the healing stream up against the debris, aiming it at wounds that it could deal with while she grabbed bandages and sutures to deal with the worst, to stem the bleeding and stabilize his condition until they could get him out.
"Angela." Gabriel's voice was right at her ear in a tone that clearly expressed he'd been trying to get her attention. She stilled her hands long enough to glance up at the man, showing she was paying attention, before looking back to Bianchi. "Start amputating. The way will be clear soon." She nodded resolutely.
"I need twenty minutes, and your hands." He could hold the healing stream – thank God she brought one – which would help keep the man from bleeding out, while she cut off his legs at the knee. Even with a tourniquet, she didn't have enough hands or bandages to keep the man alive if not for the technology.
"Angela, I have to guard the door." He insisted, and she glared up at him briefly.
"Do you want the Commander to live?" She demanded. There was no one else around and she needed a second set of hands – and then some, but she'd take what she could get. "They've got it taken care of upstairs. You set a guard for the stairs; you'll have plenty of time to get your guns if you need them." Bianchi didn't have time for this. "Give me your hands."
"I'm not a doctor, Angela." She bit back a laugh. Of course he wasn't a doctor, she wasn't an idiot. She wouldn't even be in this mess if he was a doctor.
"I know that. You just need to be able to hold the healing stream and point it – just like with your guns." Her hands finished the sutures and then set those tools to the side. She grabbed the saw – she hated the saw – and looked up at Gabriel. "Get down here, and if you need to vomit don't do it on him." He scowled but crouched next to her. Her hand lifted to the comm unit in her ear.
"Commander Morrison, he'll be ready in twenty minutes. We'll need four men to get us out." She didn't expect Gabriel to be willing to carry her patient, and she'd need her hands free to make sure he didn't die on the arduous trip out.
"Roger. Twenty minutes, Dr. Ziegler."
The next twenty minutes were extremely bloody. Gabriel looked ashen and Angela didn't blame him – the sound of bone being sawed was absolutely disturbing and make even her teeth clench. Still, she forced herself to cut, because if she didn't he would surely die. She could replace the limbs with metal in Zürich, but he had to survive to get them. As soon as she got through the first leg, pressing gauze against it to stem the bleeding, she glanced at Gabriel, mildly surprised he hadn't thrown up in the corner.
"Point the healing stream at his leg, as close as you can without touching. Put pressure on the gauze here." She ordered. "Let me know when the bleeding slows." It was bleeding sluggishly due to a tourniquet she'd tied and the stream would cut it down to a minimum.
"Yes, doc." He replied, but she'd already turned her attention to the other leg. Tourniquet in place, she started to cut.
She was nearly through the second leg when the sound of boots neared their room. Gabriel dropped the healing stream and rose, grabbing his guns to go to the door. Angela forced herself to ignore the potential danger, to finish what she started. She listened to his footsteps approach the door, but he didn't open it, leaving it closed to surprise the people approaching.
The door swung open and she hunched her shoulders, hands still sawing, waiting for a gunshot. Instead, she was greeted with voices. Since Gabriel hadn't shot them, she assumed they were friendly.
"Get that stretcher set up." She ordered over her shoulder as her saw hit the ground – if they were friendly then they could do their jobs. Angela tossed the saw away and grabbed more bandages and the discarded healing stream, directing its healing light onto the leg. "We need to go, now!" Angela heard movement behind her and assumed they were listening to her – they'd better be listening to her.
A scant minute later they were loading the Blackwatch Commander onto the stretcher, then the new men were lifting the stretcher.
"We're heading towards the transport now." Gabriel reported. Angela propped the healing stream as best she could next to his leg and let the men shuffle him out the door.
"Got it. We'll clear a path for you." Angela and Gabriel followed the men out. They collected the guard at the stairs, making for seven people escorting the Commander – six if you only counted the ones who could actually defend him.
"What about the injured?" She whispered to Gabriel as they passed the lifeless bodies littering the corridor. There surely were some injured in the fight outside, and if there was anyone left that survived the blast from nearly two hours ago they should be saved too. She needed them to be saved. There had been too much death already.
"We'll do what we can, doc, but the Commander is the priority." She frowned at him and opened her mouth to argue, but he cut in again, grabbing her arm to stop her and let the other agents get out of earshot. "I know it's not what you want to hear, but what do you want me to do? There's still enemies out there and you just cut the Commanders' legs off. We need to go."
"He had better be worth it, Gabriel." She shot back hotly and turned to follow the agents without a backwards glance. He caught up with her in a few steps, before pushing to walk ahead of her.
"Don't forget your orders, doctor." He reminded softly. "You need to stay behind me. It's dangerous above." She huffed, but nodded all the same. The blonde wasn't an idiot, as much as she felt like it in this new world of guns and danger. She would be safer at his back than leading the way. They made their way up the stairs and, except for the ridiculous amount of swearing it took to get the stretcher over and around the debris, the trek was uneventful.
"We're coming out." Gabriel reported once they were just inside the entry. "All clear?" There were guns still firing somewhere out there, and they couldn't move without confirmation. Their cargo was too valuable to risk.
"The way out is clear. Move quickly." Ana replied, but Angela could still hear the gunfire. Wasn't it too close? Shouldn't they wait?
"You heard her. Let's get going." The men burst into movement without hesitation, bolting out the door and down the path. Angela hurried to keep up with them, heart pounding, terrified of being left behind – though at the same time she felt like an idiot because she knew they wouldn't, Gabriel wouldn't, leave her here. They were nearly out when:
"Reyes, behind you!" Ana's voice cut in, urgent with warning. There was no one between herself and Gabriel, so that meant there was someone behind her, someone who was going to hurt them, shoot them. Gabriel turned, eyes wide, and lurched towards her with one hand outstretched, the other reaching for a gun that he'd foolishly left holstered. Time slowed down as she tried to look behind her, but Gabriel's hand landed on her first and shoved her hard, slamming her hard against a wall. Pain flared and her vision blurred as her eyes watered when her head hit the wall, but it was all forgotten when she heard the gunshots.
He jolted with the impact, and Angela saw crimson spread through his blue-and-white Overwatch uniform in two spots. Her eyes widened as he lifted his gun and fired back before dropping to one knee with a grunt.
"Gabriel!" She darted out from the cover he'd shoved her into as he lost hold of his gun, praying it was safe. Her hand flew up to the comm unit, shaking so badly she could barely press the button. "Gabriel's been shot." She reported, voice trembling as she tried to take in the damage, forgetting that she should address him as Commander on a line with so many people. The line went crazy in her ear, but she ignored it. She couldn't answer their questions and deal with his wounds at the same time. He'd been hit in four places, but due to the way he'd turned she hadn't seen it originally.
"I've got you, I've got you." She murmured, more for herself than for him, cursing that she left the healing stream on the stretcher, that she couldn't carry the man who was much too heavy, that she was in the position to get shot at in the first damn place. Angela slid the backpack off again, yanking out her quickly dwindling store of bandages and a shot of morphine.
She also slid the gun Ana had given her off, setting it in the dirt beside her. She hoped, if she needed it, she could use it – that she could figure out how to use it because if there was a safety she had no idea how to turn it off, and she desperately hoped Ana wouldn't give her a gun that didn't have a safety. There was no one else, with Gabriel down and – she glanced over her shoulder – the other agents gone, carrying off the injured Blackwatch Commander. She looked the other way, towards the man that had shot at them, and didn't see movement.
"Angela, we need to get out of here." He groaned, trying to get up, as if he was in any condition to be giving orders. Angela firmly pushed down on his unwounded arm, before supporting him so he didn't fall on his face. She closed her eyes at a brief bout of vertigo – she must have hit her head harder than she thought, but with the adrenaline pumping and Gabriel bleeding she didn't have time to assess her head.
"You need to wait. I just – I just need to slow the bleeding down." She insisted, turning back to her supplies. Surprisingly the man didn't argue with her, but she attributed that more to the pain he was in rather than her persuasive skills.
Quickly she prepped the morphine needle, before carefully inserting it and depressing the plunger slowly. "You're going to be alright." She would make him alright if it killed her – and at this rate it just might. Then she set about trying to slow the bleeding before he died on the ground before her, wrapping the last of her bandages around him as tightly as possible, trying to put enough pressure to slow the blood flowing out of his chest, his back. The radio was still going in her ear, so she ripped it out and let it dangle from her neck so it wouldn't distract her, even if her life depended on it – which it most probably did.
She'd almost finished when footsteps approached from the way they'd come. Angela dropped the bandages and scrambled to grab her gun with one hand, shoving Gabriel's at him with the other – not that he would be able to do much. Trembling hands held the gun too close as she slipped between him and the path behind, amateur fingers closing around the trigger without pulling it, as they drew closer. She'd ask Ana who was approaching, why she wasn't shooting them, but she was too busy clutching the gun in her hands for dear life, too worried that Gabriel might actually die for her – he took a bullet, four bullets, for her, and now someone was coming and there was no one but her left to protect them – to even consider trying.
A person came into view, and before she could realize that they were wearing Overwatch blue-and-white, she pulled the trigger. The gun fired releasing a quick burst of three bullets, surprising all of them, even as she realized that it was just Jack – oh God she'd just shot at Jack. Thankfully, she couldn't aim worth anything and they embedded in the wall and ground harmlessly. She dropped the gun in horror, hands flying up submissively, as three more people followed him around the corner, guns at the ready; they relaxed when they saw the two of them, fortunately because they could have so easily ended them both in reaction to her foolish shots.
"Jack! I'm so sorry, but, but – Gabriel," she whimpered and turned back to the injured man in question. The bandages were already stained with his blood, and she hastened to finish tightening them.
"It's fine, Angela, it's fine." Jack soothed, moving closer cautiously – as if worried of getting shot again. "We're gonna get Reyes out of here, alright? Get your things." She nodded jerkily, then clutched her head against the momentary pain and vertigo. Then she was grabbing everything around her and shoving it haphazardly into her pack – including the gun that nearly shot Jack and one of Gabriel's guns. While she was packing and sliding it on her back, Jack and one of his men levered Gabriel up and wrapped an arm around his waist as Jack braced him from the side. "Here, carry this." The blonde Commander passed her his gun as he kept his friend on his feet. She kept her hands away from the trigger, clutching it to her chest with both arms.
"I'm going to be fine, doc." Gabriel said, his voice rough with pain despite the morphine. "You'll fix me up, good as new."
"Shush, don't talk." She retorted, but there was no heat in her voice. Her whole body was trembling, and all she could see – over and over in her mind – was Gabriel taking the bullets meant for her. He'd come in shot before, she'd patched him up before, but seeing it happen – God, it was terrible. Why would they willingly go out and do this? He could have died, but he didn't even hesitate when he pushed her out of the way.
His blood was still on her fingers.
"Angela, stay with us." Jack's voice broke through her thoughts, and she found they'd pulled ahead of her. "Focus. We need to go." She nodded carefully, trying to pull herself together before speeding up to walk just behind Jack, like she was supposed to. One of Jack's men was at her side, ready to keep her moving should her thoughts wander again. A second walked at Gabriel's left, just in case. The third took up the rear, ready to defend him.
Why was their transport so far away? Why had they thought that was a good idea, knowing they were going into a combat zone and were bringing back injured? Gabriel was going to bleed out before they even got there! She barely felt the hand on her arm, urging her to keep moving. It was hard to focus on the world around her, not with Gabriel bleeding and her head throbbing in time to her heartbeat.
Footsteps approached, this time from ahead of them. Jack seized his gun from her grasp with his right hand before she even registered it, holding it before him carefully. Angela had no idea how he'd manage to shoot it, with his entire left side holding Gabriel up, but he looked rather determined. The agent at her side stepped before her, gun at the ready, while she took shelter at their Commanders' backs – praying she wouldn't see Jack shot too. Fortunately, it was the men she was with before bringing the stretcher back for Gabriel. They loaded the man up and began carrying him away.
"Angela, go with them. The rest of us will be there soon." Jack ordered her, turning and lifting a hand to his comm, his men falling in around him. "Make sure the doctor stays with you." He ordered to the men over his shoulder; he had noticed the dazed look of the doctor and didn't need her left behind.
"Please hurry." She begged, before turning and stumbling after the stretcher, terrified of being left behind, terrified that if she let Gabriel out of her sight he'd bleed out. The men hustled her and the injured man away, while Jack and his men sprinted in a different direction.
They loaded Gabriel into the helicopter, securing him to the ground towards the front. While they went about that, she checked on the other Commander in her care. His legs were bleeding very slowly; he'd survive as long as they left soon. She took back the healing stream, knowing she'd need it for Gabriel now.
Angela dumped her pack to the ground next to him, finding her scalpel and forceps. One of the shots had passed through, but the other three were still lodged somewhere inside him. They'd probably stopped at bone, due to the awkward angle he'd been shot in. She set the healing stream as close as she could to the singular wound it was good for before cutting into his chest.
She probably shouldn't be doing this, not with her head pounding and what was probably blood oozing in her hair, but her hands were steady and her vision was – currently – clear. He needed treatment now, so did Bianchi, but all they had was her.
Sometime later – she wasn't sure how long it was, she'd lost track of time while trying to find the damned bullets – those who were coming back loaded into the helicopter. They tried to make her move, to get her to fasten herself in, but she wasn't leaving Gabriel bleeding on the floor of this stupid helicopter. He'd taken bullets for her – the least she could do was keep working on him as much as possible.
"You won't be able to work on him while the helicopter moves; it won't be steady enough." Ana reasoned. Angela sighed and quickly wrapped his chest back up, before allowing the older woman to pull her to sit in the seat nearest her patients. The woman sat right next to her, as if worried she'd try something foolish.
Angela's eyes slid over the rest of the helicopter with bleary eyes – when had it gotten so dim in here? While she'd been pulling a bullet out of her friend, it had filled up – and she hadn't even noticed. She should have noticed. There were two other gunshot wounds, a graze, as well as what looked like a broken arm. Still, they had less people on the helicopter with them – she couldn't see Jack at all – and Angela wasn't sure if they'd been left for dead or if they'd been purposefully left behind to let the wounded escape. Surely they hadn't left Jack for dead, so it must have been purposeful.
"I need to talk to Gloria, get her to prep the operating rooms." Angela told the woman at her side. Ana nodded in agreement, pushing a lock of hair behind one ear. Angela leaned her head back, then winced and jolted forward – and immediately regretted the motion as vertigo and nausea overwhelmed her.
"Are you alright?" Ana asked, concerned, as Angela lifted her hands to assess the damage to her head – there was nothing else for her to do while the helicopter took off. Her fingers came back red and sticky. "What happened to you?"
"Gabriel pushed me into a wall." Angela replied, her reply coming out more dazed than snarky. She stared at her fingers for far too long before looking to Ana. "I don't have any bandages left." Ana clicked her tongue.
"We'll have to steal that technology of yours and fix you up." Ana told her, unclipping herself to grab it.
"Don't!" Angela begged, but Ana ignored her to grab the tool and slid back into her seat next to the doctor.
"He'll be fine, and you need a clear head." Ana told her, looking down at the machine in her hands. "Now, show me how to use this."
Angela showed Ana the buttons and where to point it – it really was rather simple – then leaned forward to rest her elbows on her knees with her eyes closed in an effort to keep from being sick. She winced as Ana moved her hair aside to get a look at the cut and bruising, but otherwise stayed still. Compared to everyone else, this was nothing – she should be using the healing stream on the others, not on a superficial cut like hers.
"You're all patched up," Ana said a few minutes later. Angela sat up, blinking and glancing around. The space looked a bit brighter, and she could focus her thoughts better. Apparently she'd had a mild concussion, which explained her woolgathering. She looked over to Gabriel guiltily; had she really been trying to get bullets out of him in her condition? She was a terrible doctor.
Still, she couldn't relax, no matter how guilty she felt. Ana put the healing stream in her hands and got up to get her a headset and Angela was up, looking Gabriel over, ensuring she hadn't done any lasting damage to his body. She slid the healing stream back in place before walking to look at the other injuries, bracing her hand on the overhead rail so she didn't fall into someone's' lap – wouldn't that be a great way to end this mission?
One was shot in the arm and appeared to pass through cleanly, but the other had gone through the abdomen – and she'd already learned her lesson from Naples. They'd been haphazardly bandaged with whatever cloth they could find, but she'd need to get them better cared for shortly. She'd queried them for their blood types – one was A+ and one was O+. First, she had a call to make.
"This is Dr. Ziegler. I need Dr. Freeman, now." As soon as the line had been answered, Angela started giving orders. The man on the other side stammered something and set the phone down, searching for the required doctor, as Angela leaned her head back against the wall and closed her eyes to focus on the task at hand.
"Dr. Freeman speaking." A familiar voice filled the line.
"Gloria, prep OR 1 for a double amputee; I removed his legs in the field and he's lost a lot of blood. Stock it with O-, I have no idea what his blood type is. He is in critical condition, surname Bianchi. I will need metal transplants for his legs as soon as possible, so put an order in." Angela ordered, waiting patiently while the woman wrote it down. "OR 2 needs to be prepped for four gunshot wounds to the chest, blood type B+. He is also in critical condition, surname Reyes." Angela closed her eyes briefly against the statement as Gloria inhaled sharply, before glancing back over towards the other two.
"OR 3, gunshot wound to the abdomen, blood type O+. He is in urgent condition, surname Gonzales. OR 4, gunshot to the arm, blood type A+. He is stable, surname Lewis. I also have a graze and a broken arm for the infirmary to deal with." Angela rattled off her instructions. "We will be landing in approximately twenty minutes."
"We will be ready, doctor." The line went dead, and Angela pulled the headset away and handed it to Ana, sliding to the ground next to Gabriel to check his bandages.
As much as she ached to make Gabriel her priority, she forced herself to walk into OR 1 and leave him to Gloria. She knew that most of the work on Bianchi was done – they just needed to stitch up the mans' legs and then she could dash over to OR 2 – but that didn't make it chafe any less. Then she remembered they had the new-and-improved healing stream installed in the OR, allowing her to heal his wounds quickly under her critical eye. Once his vitals stabilized, with a steady blood flow in and no more blood flowing out, she left the OR team with strict instructions to put him under guard in private room one – and then to summon Captain Amari, wherever she was – to deal with him.
Gabriel's operation wasn't nearly as quick. He was still losing a lot of blood due to the gaping holes in his body. They wheeled him over to OR 1, which was the only room with the newest healing stream, and she focused the technology on the man on her table, before pausing. She had no idea how large the bullets that were embedded in him were; she wouldn't know if they were small enough to be pushed out until they came out. If they were too big, the newer tech would just leave them there and heal over them, leaving the metal to fester and cut.
If only she'd taken the time to grab a shell casing from where he was shot, or if she'd kept the bullet she'd managed to pull out on the helicopter instead of tossing it away to get lost. Still, there was no time for regretting her actions, and she shoved the stream away. She couldn't even focus it on the wounds that were without bullets; the tool would heal all wounds, rather than singular ones.
"We need to get the bullets out." She announced to the room, grabbing a scalpel and beginning her search, her operating team moving into action around her.
Before she'd managed to find the first bullet, he stopped breathing. CPR didn't work – all it did was cause him to bleed more – and they were forced to intubate him so that he could get much needed oxygen. Angela abandoned the search for bullets to Gloria, instead turning to figure out why he wasn't breathing. Sometimes it was from the trauma, but in other cases there was something wrong with the airway. In his case, his right lung had been punctured by a bullet that had entered through his side.
Almost two hours after they intubated Gabriel, and after a shock to the chest when his heart started beating out of control, they got him stable and turned the healing stream on him. It would be slow going, considering the sheer amount of trauma inflicted, and she couldn't interfere without making it worse. Instead, she directed the rest of her staff out – she could monitor it alone and call for anything she needed. No need for all of them to stand around doing nothing.
It was wrong of her to stay when there were patients to see, to fix, when someone else could monitor him just as easily, but she just could not force herself to let him out of her sight until the bloody holes were fixed. She was too frazzled to be of use elsewhere, and would be until he stopped bleeding from wounds meant for her.
She needed something to do with her hands, or she'd grab a needle and start suturing unnecessarily, so she grabbed a notepad and started writing. She wrote about the changes necessary to her technology – concerning bullets, focusing wounds, speed, anything that she thought could and should be changed. Every few minutes she'd look up and reassess Gabriel's broken body on the operating table, bathed in yellow light and sluggishly bleeding.
It took forty-five minutes – and every single one of them was agonizing. But once the wounds were healed, his blood pressure stabilized, and his breathing evened, she felt like she could function again. She ordered a nurse back into the OR, to put him into private room two under guard – and strict instruction that he wasn't to move until she could reassess him. His healed flesh would still be tender and he needed to rest while his body adjusted.
Then she moved Gonzales to OR 1. Her surgeons had done a great job in keeping him stable, and his wounds were healed by the technology in just under thirty minutes. The complexity of the injury – the intestine had been perforated – caused the nanobots to have to work on many more levels, to avoid sepsis and keep infection at bay while also healing the ravaged flesh, taking just as long as several bullets – but the sutures her staff had performed made it move that much faster.
Finally, she checked up on OR 4, but by the time she had reached them they had used the hand-held healing stream to patch him up. It was nearing ten in the evening – still early, considering the way she worked – but she felt absolutely drained. Still, she had to walk the infirmary, to make sure the other two were fine, to ensure everything was running smoothly. That was her duty.
Once she'd passed the reins over to Gloria – ostensibly so she could get some food and check on Bianchi and Gabriel – she headed for private room one. She'd make sure he was comfortable and properly guarded, then she'd look in on Gabriel.
The guards here gave her no trouble, unlike the ones in Naples; it was a fortunate perk for working in her home territory. The man was still unconscious, which was unsurprising. He'd probably sleep for several more hours – it was one of the side effects of her nanotechnology, but the perks were absolutely worth it, in her opinion. After assuring he was fine, she moved on to Gabriel's room.
She found Jack inside, and it was just like in Naples – only with the roles reversed. She hadn't realized he was back. Fortunately, he didn't pull a gun on her, though it would have been fair, given that she'd shot at him first.
"Jack." She breathed, looking him over as he rose to greet her. "You're alright, aren't you? I didn't hurt you?" Now that she was able to focus, now that she was looking at someone other than Gabriel, she felt the guilt flow over her. She could have hurt him – killed him. Jack gave her a wry grin.
"Angela, your aim is terrible. I'm fine." She huffed and crossed her arms, attempting to look displeased but nothing could mask the sheer relief in her eyes. He was fine.
"Excuse me for worrying." She retorted, wanting to sound sarcastic but failing. Angela dropped her arms back to her side after a moment – even she could tell that she was doing a terrible job at acting. "I'm glad I didn't shoot you." Angela admitted.
"Well, so am I. Funny how that works." Jack replied, and she laughed like he'd meant her to. It was a short laugh, but it was needed after the day she had. They fell silent – the only sound in the room coming from the EKG machine – as she turned to look at the elephant in the room. Carefully, as if she might wake him, she approached his bed to check his chart.
"He'll be fine." She told him quietly, breaking the silence. "He'll be a little tired, and a little sore, but he'll be fine. They'll all be fine." She carefully didn't mention the troubles the man before them had faced on her table. Jack didn't need the extra stress right now. Angela looked back towards the blonde Commander instead. "You should get some rest, Jack. You look terrible." It was his turn to bark out a laugh.
"You're one to talk, Angela." He retorted. She smiled wryly back.
"Yes, but I'm used to it." She ushered him to the door. "With Bianchi out of commission, you're going to be a very busy man. I'll watch over Gabriel." Angela opened the door, pointing towards the exit. "Go get some sleep, Commander." The title was more for the guards in the hall, but he raised an eyebrow at her. "We'll be fine. Look at all the bodyguards we have." She gestured at the hall, filled with four agents at attention. "The door locks, too, if that makes you feel any better."
Jack just sighed and rolled his eyes at the woman.
"You've made your point, doctor. I'll get some rest." She smiled up at him.
"Good. Sleep well. I'll give you an update in the morning." He nodded and made his way towards the elevators. She nodded respectfully towards the guards, before reentering her friends' room.
She sat in the seat closest to his bed and reassured herself he was alive by watching him breathe.