"I won't leave him," she says. He wonders offhandedly if she knows she's shaking.
And he should be angry really. Huff and puff, and spit out the bitter taste in his mouth: make up your damn mind, woman.
But all he gets out is "He means that much to you, eh?"
She stares at him. He should have stopped arguing then. He's been around her enough to know that look.
But it's acutely satisfying to see her all bothered so he keeps it up.
When finally, she dismisses him and turns to run, he, being the gentleman that he is, decides to give her a head start.
----
It's already started raining. And he's feeling cranky, his hair getting on his face and on his nerves.
"Hate to put a wrinkle on your rescue plan, Freckles." He says, in between breaths. "But how do we even know where he is?"
"He's in surgery right now. Operating on Ben. Don't ask."
"Not asking. Hell yeah. Mr. Bunny's all sliced up and unconscious."
By this time, he's overtaken her and he has to shout through the noise of the rain. "Although I'm curious. How that little piece of good news. Will help us find Doc."
"We've seen Jack. Go into surgery before."
"Pickett's chick," he counters, instantly getting her drift.
They share a brief but confident smile.
And this feels familiar to him, almost like they had done this before in some other life, some other circumstance. Two fugitives on the run. He's never had a partner before. Too risky. Too messy. But he thinks, maybe, it's not that bad, to have someone to run with.
And perhaps it's because he's so distracted and feeling light and happy that he doesn't feel it at first.
It's strange, and backward, how it happens. Like lightning and thunder.
The pain first, marring and searing through his flesh.
Then the sound, echoing resignedly in the air.
----
He's no hero. And if he had the chance, he'd like to clarify that he wasn't trying to be one.
But he guesses that's how it will look and play out in her stories. If she ever decides to tell it. If they ever live to tell it.