Chapter three: BLEEDING

Thank you for reading.

.~.~.~.

Callen closed his eyes, taking a deep breath to silence the sudden rush of guilt that swarmed his brain and caused his stomach to flip. If I had just turned faster, noticed them sooner… No. Don't think like that. He silently commanded himself.

The sound of sirens broke him from his musings, and he opened his eyes to stare into his partner's; sharing a quick look of sorrow on behalf of the six teenagers. Sam dropped his eyes first, for once not trying to get more emotion from Callen. Usually, he would do almost whatever it took to get Callen to open up about anything, even if it was as trivial as the fact that G hated pet birds.

"Paramedics are right down the road, G. Try to behave when they fix you up, okay?" Sam implored, looked up once more to get his point across.

G rolled his eyes (an act that he quickly regretted, as it made the world spin again) but gave his friend a small grin in reply. "Maybe. But if they bring out a needle, I am not responsible for what happens to their face."

Sam settled his features into a serious expression, giving his injured friend a hard stare before smirking. "Then I'm not going to do anything when they sedate you."

G breathed in deep again, ignoring the twinge in his chest, "That would actually be kind of welcomed right now." He could hear the sirens, even closer than before, and could see the blurred flashing lights that were coming steadily closer. His eyes drifted shut once more, the throb in his head feeling like someone was shooting his brain with a nail gun.

His body gave a jerk when someone placed their hand on his arm, waking him suddenly from unconsciousness. He blinked slowly, vaguely noticing that his thoughts were even slower now than before, at the unfamiliar face above him.

"My name is Josh. We're going to get you onto the stretcher and the ambulance, and then we'll drive to the hospital. Is your neck okay?" The man, a paramedic he assumed, suddenly switched who he was talking to, this time facing Sam. "Has he been responsive?"

"Yes; he was sitting up and talking not even five minutes ago. He passed out again shortly after you pulled up."

"At least he woke up quick. Now, sir," facing G again, the paramedic leaned over him slightly to inspect the wound on his forehead, still speaking, "Do you fell nauseous? Dizzy?"

Callen opened his mouth, intent on answering, but nothing came out. The paramedic seemed to understand this, and spoke again, "One blink for yes, two for no, okay?"

Callen blinked dutifully.

"Good. Nauseous?"

One blink. The paramedic nodded to himself, "Dizzy?" G blinked once, his breath hitching. The next breath he took had an odd gurgle to it, but the paramedic immediately jumped to attention.

"Get that stretcher over here!" he shouted behind him, leaning back from the gash on the forehead to pull up the side of G's shirt, revealing a mass of bruises and swollen skin. He brushed his fingers over Callen's ribs, prodding in some places before his face settled into a grim expression and he spoke, more to himself than anything, "Multiple broken ribs. I'm 95 percent certain that at least one of them pierced his lung; he's got internal bleeding."

A group of paramedics appeared in G's hazy vision, setting down a blue stretcher and slowly (painfully in his view) lying him down in it and securing his neck in a brace. They popped it up, running with it to the waiting ambulance, shouting orders. He caught only fleeting bits of their conversation, too preoccupied with the pain, and the fact that it was increasingly harder to breathe.

"Suspected internal bleeding, low pulse rate, get that oxygen ready!"

His vision went to static for a moment, and when it cleared again he was inside the ambulance with an oxygen mask over his mouth and nose, and slightly aware that the vehicle was driving very fast. Callen's eyes flickered everywhere; searching for Sam. He found him, lying on a gurney next to him, although he could hear him complaining about how he wasn't even hurt.

Experience with hospitals told him that trying to say anything wouldn't work with the mask on, and the Emergency Medical Care course Hetty had forced on him (and his team) he also knew that if he had internal bleeding like the paramedics thought, he wouldn't be allowed any sedatives.

Sam's phone rang, and he grumbled a bit as he struggled to get it out of his pocket and up to his ear. "Sam."

The tinny voice on the other end replied something indistinguishable. "Yeah; we're on our way there now. I'm fine. G's pretty banged up, though; they think he may have internal bleeding. Yep. His clothes are ruined."

G groaned. Hetty's gonna kill me for ruining them. The paramedic, though, mistook his groan of annoyance to be one of pain, and leaned over him, her blue eyes staring into his own. He took a moment to think, wow, she's cute, before turning serious again.

The woman lifted the oxygen mask, pulling it down to his neck. "Hello there. On a scale from 1 to 10, how bad is your pain?"

He thought it over, his head pounding too much for him to really recognize the other pains. His leg was on fire, as were his lungs. All in all, it wasn't as bad as it could be, he thought wryly. "Eight-ish?" It came out more of a question than he liked, and the paramedic nodded before slipping his oxygen mask back on and scribbling something onto a chart. She looked up at Sam, pen poised to write more down.

"This report helps the doctors, so will you please answer these questions truthfully? Usually we ask the patient if we can, but he needs the mask."

"Go for it. But I have to warn you; I don't know all that much." Sam warned, shrugging as much as he could while strapped down.

"That's fine. Just answer what you can. Okay: allergies?"

"Blueberries, but nothing medical-related that I know of." Sam spoke slowly, realizing just how little he knew about his friend. Sure; it was more than anyone else knew, but...

The paramedic made a noise affirming his statement, scribbling it down before looking back up. "Does he have any past medical problems? Heart trouble, past illnesses that left a mark?"

"No… he did have five rounds put through him a few months ago, though."

Callen grinned under the mask, feeling the odd impulse to laugh at how confused Sam looked. But his world was spinning, and the darkness in the corners of his vision slowly grew, and the last thing he heard was the paramedic saying, "Is he on any medication?"

.~.~.~.

Callen whump. I love it.