A/N So I finished this chapter a lot sooner than I thought I would. Hope ya'll can forgive me for the cliff-hanger in the last chapter. Anyway, happy reading, let me know what you think!
Oh, and I own nothing.
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When the signal came, everything happened very quickly. Branch radioed in saying that he had a line to Vic in the presence of the dealer and they agreed to move in. Ferg met them at the door and in a few words explained that the dealer was the little room, next to the bar with the guard standing at the door and that some guy had hit on Vic and taken her in there. There was a niggle of worry working its way through Walt's mind at that, they had agreed that Ferg and Vic would stick together. Suddenly the music stopped and after a moments silence the party goers started running. They were rumbled. The guard at the door started to pull out his gun, but Branch, having come in by the other door grabbed it and handily handcuffed his hands behind his back.
There was a thump and some swearing coming from the room and then… It seemed like a race to Walt. The first shot was the starting pistol and then he was running towards the door. There was a small pause until three more came in rapid succession, the final just as he reached the door. All he registered was that Vic was on his left, near the ground, and a man was shooting at her. Not even thinking, he squeezed the trigger and saw the man with the gun jerk and collapse. Turning towards Vic he saw her stand up and for a split second relief flooded him. Until he saw the red stain spreading across her white top, so horribly like the stain that had been on the shirt Martha had been wearing that night when his world had come crashing down.
She seemed not to realise anything was wrong, standing there gasping for breath looking puzzled. Then she looked down and without realising what he was doing, he rushed forward and caught her just as she fell. She was limp in his arms, somewhere on the edges of consciousness.
"Call an ambulance!" He shouted at Ferg who had just stepped in, while trying to push his hand on the wound that was letting Vic's life leak out. He didn't know whether Ferg had started to do anything, but he realised that there was no time. Hands shaking he lifted her into his arms, and started carrying her towards the door.
"Ferg, I need you to drive. Branch, you help Sheriff Wilkes here. Check whether the bastard who shot her is still breathing." He managed to get out while cradling his deputy in his arms and rushing towards his truck. Ferg ran ahead to open the door and helped Walt get Vic and himself settled on the back seat with the minimum amount of fuss and jostling. Vic was still conscious, getting her into the car had roused her a little. Now her hand was gripping his coat, teeth gritting with pain as he pressed his hand against the hole in her side, her moan of pain making his stomach twist.
"Walt…"
"Shh. Save your strength Vic. We'll get you to the hospital in no time." He gently pulled her closer, placing a quick kiss on the top of her head. "Just hang in there."
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He didn't notice his legs going numb because of her weight resting on his thighs. He didn't notice the way his left arm was trembling slightly as it supported her upper body so her head could rest on his shoulder. What he did notice was the slow seep of blood coming from underneath the dressing he held pressed tightly against her side. He noticed the paleness of her skin, the gasping, rattling quality to her breathing. The way her skin seemed to have turned see-through in the light cast by the occasional car passing, and by the street lights as they approached the hospital. Her eyes were closed; she'd fallen unconscious at some point in the trip, despite his best efforts to keep her awake.
He'd never been an overly religious man, he'd occasionally read the bible and gone to church like most people, but he'd never had much fervour to it. He'd stopped going and praying altogether when Martha had died, not that he'd done it much before that. Now he found himself begging. Begging silently in his head to any deity or higher power who could hear. Making deals that weren't even properly formed in his own mind. Just let her live. Not again. Anything, just let her live.
Ferg pulled up to the A&E entrance, tyres squealing, seeming to hop out of the car before it had even properly stopped. Walt released the pressure from Vic's wound for a second to throw open the door, just as Ferg ran over with a nurse and a doctor pushing a trolley. Carefully he helped them lift Vic off him and onto the trolley. All he could see was the way her arm rolled, hand flopping over the side of the trolley like she was already gone.
He followed the doctor and the nurse on autopilot, not looking at where he was walking, just following the gleam reflected from Vic's golden hair under the harsh lighting of the hospital. He could recognise Ferg's voice explaining what had happened to the doctor and realised that questions were being asked, but all he could hear was his own desperate thoughts in his head on a loop, Not again. Not again.
Ferg turned to look at him, holding him back as the medical team pushed Vic's trolley around the corner.
"Come on Walt. Let's go wash your hands and then we'll sit down and wait." Almost hesitantly, Ferg grabbed his elbow and turned him towards the door marked Gents. He let go as Walt went through the door and turned to look at himself in the mirror. Looking back was a tired, old man. A man who had been through too much and was now falling to pieces. He leaned forward and rested his forehead against the cold smooth surface of the mirror.
Slowly but surely he pushed away the loop of thoughts going on inside his head, shook off the horrible fear that just as things seemed to be going well, it all went to hell again. He raised his head and faced himself in the mirror again. Now was no time to fall apart, no matter what was happening. Vic would not appreciate him going to pieces. Turning on the tap, he washed the blood off his hands, bending over to splash some on his face. After drying his face and hands, he opened the door, revealing Ferg standing outside, his back to the door like he was standing guard.
"Thanks Ferg." He said quietly, laying a hand on the younger man's shoulder. A man he almost considered to be a son. Ferg blushed a little and nodded.
"Nothing you wouldn't have done Walt. You think she's going to be ok?"
"I hope so Ferg. I hope so."
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The wait seemed to be eternal. Walt had managed to push down the mixture of panic and numbness that had been coursing through his mind on the ride over and decided that rather than sit still waiting for news, it would be best if he got working. With a little verbal tussle with the head nurse, he appropriated a phone for police use and called Branch who was still on the scene.
The shooter was not dead, Walt's bullet had hit him on his left shoulder doing a fair bit of damage according to the ambulance crew that had turned up. The man Vic had been using for cover was dead, his boss' shots had torn through his chest and stomach. It was the one through his abdomen that had travelled through the width of his body and hit Vic on the other side. The Cumberland County Sheriff's department had seized about hundred grand's worth of a variety of drugs from the scene. They had put a stop to a serious operation.
The pleasure of a job well done was heavily marred for them all by Vic still being in surgery. Branch told Walt that he'd finish on the scene and once that was done, he'd come over to the hospital to wait for news. When Walt finally hung up the head nurse was looking at him with an odd mixture of annoyance and understanding before taking back the phone and putting it in its proper place.
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It was a good few hours later when the doctor finally reappeared from the depths of the hospital. Walt stood up as he saw her approach and took a few steps toward her. Ferg, who's head had been resting on Branch's shoulder as he slept jerked awake when Branch stood up and they both followed Walt.
"Sheriff Longmire."
"Doctor."
"I understand the bullet passed through another victim before hitting her. This caused a wobble on its trajectory which caused a larger than usual entry wound. This combined with the fact that the bullet shattered on impact with her rib made the damage worse. We spent most of the time trying to find all the fragments of bullet and bone. She had a punctured lung and the broken rib, some damage to her liver and a slight tear to her stomach. It's the last one that is the most worrying purely because of the infection risk, but I'd say it is looking very optimistic. She should be fine in a few weeks." The doctor gave them a small smile and Walt felt like a stone had just rolled off his chest. She would be fine.
