Well... that's a thing that happened. Let's continue, shall we?

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Chapter Thirty-Six: Who Wants to Live Forever
CPOV

"Doctor Cullen to the emergency room. Incoming trauma. Doctor Cullen to the emergency room. Incoming trauma."

I sighed at the announcement over the hospital's intercom. I quickly finished the charting I was working on and then stood, pulling on my white coat. There was an inexplicable energy in the air. Something about today felt grating on my normally unflappable nerves. We'd had what felt like an endless stream of complaints and injuries. The hospital had more inpatients than usual as well, leaving me moving between the medical floors and emergency room. I'd already performed three emergency surgeries and all I really wanted to do was to go home, grab Bella, stay in a private cabin or cushy hotel for the next several days and pretend the world didn't exist.

I kept my pace brisk and arrived to find the ER in slight chaos as nurses, doctors and techs prepared for the incoming injuries.

"Get plenty of blood from the blood bank," Doctor Gerandy instructed a tech. "He's A positive and she is AB negative. Bring up O Neg as well. Apparently they've already lost a lot of blood." The tech hurried off and I approached my colleague.

"What do we have incoming?" He turned toward me, shoulders sagging.

"First ambulance has Chief Swan. He got shot in the parking lot of the police station."

Charlie.

Did Bella know yet?

"How many are inbound," I asked breathlessly.

"Just two. The second rig was on a call so they are only just getting there."

"Where do you want me?"

"Take him as soon as he's in. You're the best at what you do, Carlisle. If anyone has a chance of helping him, it's you." I grabbed a trauma gown and pulled it on, followed by gloves. I waited by the doors, listening as the ambulance sirens grew closer. When they pulled up outside the doors, I rushed out, waiting impatiently as they unloaded the gurney. Charlie was deathly pale, blood soaking the front of his cut uniform and abdomen. His eyes were glazed as I pulled up next to him.

"Forty-five year old male, five GSWs to the chest and abdomen. Three are through and through. BP is sixty-five over fifty. Heart rate is one fifty four bpm. Respirations forty-five. Altered LOC. Hemolytics applied in field. Have him on six liters of O2. Two liters of blood infused en route," Earl told me hurriedly. "He's been in and out."

"Charlie," I said loudly, trying to get his attention. His eyes moved to me sluggishly. He reached out a hand and I grabbed it. "We're going to get you fixed up, Charlie." I turned to the nurses who had crowded around us. "Let's get him to the OR and see how bad it is in there." We hurried toward the surgical wing. Charlie squeezed my hand, a pressure so light that if I were human, I probably wouldn't have felt it. I looked down and he was weakly pulling at his oxygen mask. I helped him slip it off.

"Be..lla," he rasped.

"I'm sure she'll be here soon, Charlie. We have to get you into surgery." He gave the slightest shake of his head.

"Told… me… about… you." He coughed, drops of blood catching in the mask on his chin. "You have… to take… care… of her. P-promise… m-me," he demanded breathlessly, clutching at my hand and sleeve. I stared at him, unsure of just what Bella had told him. He stared at me earnestly, what little strength left in him poured into this one effort. His eyes were desperate and pained.

"I promise you, Charlie," I said slowly. He nodded slightly.

"M'scared," he panted.

"I've got you. I'm going to do everything I can to get you back to Bella," I reassured him.

"N…no. Too…late. Te..ll her… I'm…s-sorry. L-lo..ve… her."

"You're going to tell her yourself," I said firmly as we reached the operating room. Nurses moved in a coordinated flurry, prepping him to be put under. He squeezed my hand before his grip went completely limp and I heard his heart stutter to a stop just as the cardiac monitor alarm sounded.

"He's in cardiac arrest," I shouted. "Starting compressions. Start rescue breaths. Administer one milligram epinephrine." I began to press on Charlie's chest above his heart. I felt his ribs crack under the pressure, heard the sound of bone splintering as I worked to get his heart beating again. "Come on, Charlie," I muttered, continuing to move almost mechanically. "Check rhythm," I called after two minutes. Everyone paused and we watched the monitor.

"Nothing," the scrub nurse said.

"Round two, starting compressions. Continue rescue breathing." I began to work on Charlie again. Bella's devastated face floated in my mind, driving me to continue. I wouldn't be the reason Charlie didn't come out of this alive. We stopped after another two minutes but the monitor was still flat.

"Doctor Cullen," a nurse said quietly forty-five minutes later. "He's been down for almost an hour."

"No," I barked. "This is our chief of police. We can't lose him like this."

"Doctor Cullen," someone said from the doorway. "Doctor Gerandy needs you in OR Two with the second gunshot victim." I kept pumping my arms, would have kept pumping them just to spare Bella this pain if I hadn't known that someone else needed my help. I stopped compressions, stepping back and staring at Charlie's still form on the table. The entire room was silent except for a few muffled sobs from some of the nurses.

"Time of death… eighteen twenty-three," I said dully. I turned away from Charlie, already thinking of how to tell Bella, what we would need to do to keep her with us instead of ending up in the system for the short time between now and her birthday. We'd have to forge a will of some kind probably. I walked into the scrub room, not ready to move on to the next trauma but determined to save this one. I pulled my mask on. I began to wash my hands and looked through the window at the surgery taking place. Blood and used towels were everywhere. Doctor Gerandy was working in the abdominal area. I meticulously sped through my scrubbing and then headed to the door, turning backwards to push it open with my hands held up.

"What do we have," I asked as I entered. Nurses moved forward to dry my hands and place the surgical gown and glasses on me. One of them pulled gloves onto my hands.

"I can't find the bullets," Gerandy said frustratedly. "Three shots and not one was through and through. They've shredded through the intestines. The spleen is shot and it looks like one might be in her liver. I need help," he said exhaustedly. I nodded and moved forward. As the scrub nurses moved aside to clear room for me, I looked at the head of the table and stopped.

Bella.

Her eyelashes were like a dark smudge against her deathly pale skin, dark circles under eyes.

"No," I breathed.

Why was she with Charlie?

Why wasn't anyone with her?

Who had done this?

"Carlisle," Gerandy said. I snapped to attention, dark resolve building in my gut and spreading through my body like a poison.

"I'll check her liver," I snapped. The room seemed to take a collective gasp. I began to explore her abdomen, searching for any sign of a rogue bullet and cataloguing the damage done on the way, stopping to fix things that couldn't wait. "Suction," I said sharply as blood continued to obscure my field of vision. I felt around her liver delicately, feeling for an abnormality. "Got it," I said after a tense minute, pulling the offending metal out and dropping it into a pan.

"That's one left," Gerandy said tiredly. "I'm not sure where this blood is coming from! Hang another bag of O Neg." I felt in her abdomen, desperately trying not to think about the fact that I was elbow deep in the love of my life and somehow having that be the only thing that I could think about. My hands shook a little and I forced myself to start counting backwards from a million.

In French.

"Blood pressure is dropping again," the anesthesiologist warned from the head of the table as the electronic alarms from the various machines attached to her began to sound.

"I've patched a perforated intestine, stemmed bleeding from the spleen, but she isn't stabilizing," Gerandy cursed, his face grim beneath the surgical lamp.

"It's her pulse. Thready, irregular. She's going into hypovolemic shock. We can't risk another bleed-out," I clipped. "I've patched the liver but we're not done. There could be internal injuries we haven't found."

"We need to stop the bleeding, give her body a chance to recover some blood volume, stabilize and then we can reopen her later, assess the remaining damage then."

"No! We can do this. I can do this. We need to find the last bullet," I growled.

"She can't handle anymore of this, Carlisle! If we keep her open, even if we find the bullet, her chances of coming through this are one in a million! She's losing too much, too fast and her vitals are in the tank. We need to try and get her stronger before we can fix everything."

The decision hung heavy in the air. It was a gamble. Leaving internal injuries to fester for hours increased the risk of infection and further blood loss; the statistics swirled around my head with Bella's laughter, her face this morning as I kissed her goodbye.

"Alright, prep for closure. We're going temporary," I said in resignation. "We need a vacuum seal drainage kit," I instructed the nurses. They went to work collecting supplies while Gerandy and I prepped her for closing. When they were finished, I carefully wet the lap pads and placed them over her open abdomen before placing the polyethylene sheet over them. I continued layering the supplies and then turned on the machine, watching it bubble over her before pulling down to create an airtight seal.

"She's in v-fib," a nurse shouted. I moved up to her chest, pressing my hands to her chest and beginning compressions.

I'd just done this to her father.

I hadn't been able to save him.

Was I going to fail her again?

"Charge to three sixty," I bit out. I listened as the defibrillator hummed and powered up.

"Ready. Clear," Gerandy called and I raised my hands. He pressed the paddles to her chest and shocked her, her body jumping from the pulse. We watched the monitor.

"Nothing," I said, resuming my frantic chest compressions. "Charge again."

This couldn't be the end.

She couldn't leave me like this.

Not after I promised Charlie to take care of her.

"Ready. Clear!" I stepped back as Gerandy delivered another charge. This time the line on the monitor evened out to a normal rhythm. "Let's get her moved to the ICU," he ordered. They proceeded to move her and all the equipment she was still attached to out of the room but I was left staring at the blood covering my gloved hands and arms, at the pools of her blood on the floor.

How the hell had this happened?