Chapter Text
The first SWAT patient that came through the door was in a lot better shape than Robby had expected. While his lower left trouser leg was soaked in blood and he was pale, he was awake and talking. A tourniquet had been placed on his thigh above the wound and on his forehead, in Jack’s handwriting, it said T=1422. Robby glanced at his watch. It was approaching 3 PM, they still had some time before they needed to loosen the tourniquet to avoid ischemic injuries.
“I don’t think this needs a trauma room,” Baran said after the paramedics briefed them quickly on their initial observations. “I can take him to Central 8 and if needed, we’ll move him to T2 from there.”
“Sounds good,” Robby nodded, only half listening. He was already mentally preparing for the next patient.
As Baran started walking off with her patient, the automatic doors swooshed open once more. Immediately, Robby knew it was bad from the grim look on the paramedics’ faces and from the way Jack was walking quickly next to the stretcher, keeping pressure on the patient’s neck. The sleeves of Jack’s shirt were soaked in blood and there was a smear on his cheek. As they came closer, Robby was struck by the horrible realisation that something was wrong with Jack.
The last time Jack had come to the ED from a SWAT misadventure, he’d been sweaty and flushed from the heat outside and the adrenaline that had to be coursing through his veins. His eyes had been sparkling, he had been in his element. Of course, he didn’t want his friends to get hurt, but Robby could tell that Jack was enjoying every single second of it. But this was different. Jack was sweating bullets, they ran down his face and his skin was a chalky white. He was breathing rapidly and as they approached, Robby heard how shaky his inhales were. Something was very, very wrong.
“What’ve we got?” Robby asked as he jogged up to the stretcher.
He forced himself to look away from Jack. Right now, Jack was standing, walking and talking. He was hurt, but, going by triage rules, he had to wait. So Robby forced himself to look at the patient on the stretcher. A young woman, pale as a sheet and unconscious. The front of her uniform was saturated in blood and as he watched, Robby saw more blood soak into the hemostatic dressing.
“Arterial bleeding in neck,” Jack said, his voice hoarse and heavy. He sounded breathless. Robby’s concern increased. “Managed to get it under control on scene, but moving her and the ambulance ride dislodged the clot.”
“Okay, trauma 1, let’s go,” he clapped Jack on the back.
He tried to ask if Jack was alright, but of course, Jack just brushed him off. Robby tried to shift his focus completely to the patient, but he couldn’t stop his eyes from continuing to drift back to Jack.
Samira and Langdon were already in trauma 1, ready to get to work. Jesse and Tim were there as well. A solid team.
“Okay, arterial bleeding in the neck, Dr. Abbot will keep pressure as we move her,” Robby said as the paramedics put the stretcher next to the gurney. “On my count. One, two, three!”
When they lifted the woman, they all heard Jack shakily and loudly gasp. His eyes widened and Robby saw the final colour leave his face. Broken ribs? If he’d been hit while wearing body armour, he could still have broken or ruptured something.
High-velocity projectile doesn’t have to penetrate to damage.
Jack’s hands flew away from the patient’s neck, Robby wasn’t sure if it was completely intentional. He tore his eyes away from Jack to look down at the wound. He couldn’t see any more blood leaking into the dressing, it seemed like Jack’s continued pressure and the hemostatic gauze had done its job.
“Okay, bleeding seems to have stopped,” Robby said as he leaned in close to get a proper look. “Two large bore IVs, two units on the rapid infuser-”
Something clattered to the ground and they all looked up towards the noise. Jack had stumbled into the wall and had managed to send some equipment flying. In the few moments Robby hadn’t had eyes on him, Jack had deteriorated.
“We’ve got this,” Langdon said, as if he’d been reading Robby’s mind. Grateful, Robby nodded and stepped away to deal with his friend.
He was a few paces away when Jack suddenly grimaced. Almost as if in slow motion, Robby saw him wrap his arms around his middle and he leaned forward. Robby saw how his throat worked and then he was vomiting. A thick slurry of bile, semi-digested food and blood. A lot of blood.
“Shit,” Robby said as Jack gagged and vomited once more. “Fuck, Jack.”
Robby took care to not slip in the puddle of regurgitated blood as he came to grab Jack, holding him up. More sweat was running down Jack’s face and his breathing had become shallow and weak.
“Something’s wrong,” Jack whispered.
Yeah, no shit. Robby thought as he grabbed one of Jack’s wrist, pressing down on the pulse point. Weak and rapid, fluttering like a trapped bird under Robby’s fingertips.
They needed to get Jack admitted and they needed to examine him properly. At the very least, he had a severe internal bleeding. There could be damaged organs, broken ribs, punctured lungs. Robby tried to remember how many people they’d sent up for emergency surgery during the day and if it was possible that at least one of the always prepped theatres were available. Because they needed to get Jack upstairs as soon as possible. There wasn’t much they could do in the ED for ruptured organs. They could replenish fluids and blood, but that was it. They could treat the symptoms but not the actual problem. He would need surgery. And soon.
“Samira!” Robby called out as he took more and more of Jack’s weight. When she came to their side, Robby leaned close to Jack. “We need to take you next door, get you on the gurney. Think you can walk, if you lean on us?”
Jack nodded weakly. Samira grabbed one of Jack’s arms and looped it over her shoulders, while Robby kept a strong arm around Jack’s waist.
It was a slow trek, the short space between the two trauma bays had never seemed bigger. But it was still quicker than having to wait for a gurney or a wheelchair. As they walked, Jack became heavier and heavier between them, his head drooping. Robby jostled him, perhaps slightly too vigorously, to rouse him again.
Eventually, they made it into T2 and Jack was beginning to feel like dead weight. He made a feeble attempt to help as Robby and Samira combined their strength to heave Jack onto the gurney. Once they finally got him onto the gurney, Jack started groaning slightly and Roby saw his throat work as he gagged.
“He’s going to vomit again, turn him,” Robby said to Samira and they carefully rolled Jack onto his side just before he vomited another few mouthfuls of blood. “We need some more hands in here.”
As Samira pushed the door to the room open to call for some more help, Robby grabbed a pair of trauma scissors and started cutting away Jack’s uniform. In the middle of it, Jack’s eyes started drifting closed.
“Hey!” Robby said loudly and rubbed Jack’s sternum. “Don’t fall asleep on me brother.”
Jack flinched and forced his eyes open again, blinking owlishly at Robby. His eyes were glassy and vacant. Robby wanted to cry. He wanted to scream, he wanted to tell Jack off for not letting them know he was hurt. But he pushed it down, he pushed it away. Like he had done when he needed to intubate Adamson, he violently squashed the feelings down.
“Did you get shot?” He asked as he continued to cut away the uniform.
“Mm,” Jack hummed and weakly nodded his head.
“Close range?”
Another lethargic nod.
Robby was halfway through cutting off the uniform as the room was flooded with people. Samira was back at Jack’s other side and started helping him with removing Jack’s shirt. Kim and Perlah were already in the process of putting two large bore IVs in Jack’s arms, without having to be told. They knew what to do. Finally, Robby and Samira finished cutting the clothing, revealing Jack’s torso.
Robby sucked in a deep breath. Jack’s stomach darkly bruised and distended, Robby was fairly sure even a layman could diagnose the internal bleeding. Samira was already reaching for the eFAST, even though she had probably made the same assessment he had. Robby doubted they would be able to see anything. If it was as bad as Robby feared, the amount of free fluid in Jack’s abdomen wouldn’t let them see anything.
Sophie started putting the electrodes on Jack’s chest as Samira started the eFAST. Sure enough, all they could see was free fluid.
As the EKG monitor was turned on, Robby’s eyes flicked to it. Sure enough, Jack was tachycardia and severely hypotensive.
“Two units on the rapid infuser,” Robby said. “He’s O neg. And page surgery.”
“Garcia is next door,” Samira said and peered over Robby’s shoulder, back towards Trauma 1. “I’ll go get her.”
As Samira left, Robby grabbed Jack’s wrist again. As the new blood flowed into his system, Robby could feel a slight increase in the strength of Jack’s pulse. But it was still weak, still racing. It had been less than twenty minutes since they came into the ED and in that time, Jack had gone from fully awake, alert, talking and walking to barely conscious and actively bleeding out into his abdomen.
Because it comes for us all, man.
This could very well be it. Jack was deteriorating in front of his eyes. Every second lowered his chance of survival. There was no way of telling how bad it was before they opened Jack up and could get a proper look at the extent of the damage. This could be the last time they saw each other alive. The thought made Robby feel dizzy.
“What the fuck is this?” Garcia interrupted his quiet panic with her sharp exclamation.
“Severe internal bleeding, too much free fluid to see anything at all on the eFAST,” Robby said quickly. “He needs to go upstairs.”
Garcia looked Jack over. Her sharp eyes bounced between the EKG screen, the blood on the rapid infuser, the spreading bruise on Jack’s stomach, the faint blue tinge of his lips.
“We’ll take him up now,” she said.
“Do you have a theatre ready?” Robby asked.
“I’ll let them know we’re on our way and there’ll be one by the time we get up there.”
“Thank you,” Robby exhaled heavily.
As the nurses helped Garcia prep Jack to move him to the OR, Robby attempted to step away from the bed. But he was stopped as Jack’s hand weakly wrapped around his wrist. With the new blood in his veins, Jack seemed to have regained some of his consciousness. His gaze lazily slid over to meet Robby’s. But Robby knew that even if Jack seemed to be at least somewhat aware, he wouldn’t have any memory of it later.
“Let go, Jack,” Robby said gently as he put his hand over Jack’s. But Jack’s weak grip didn’t let up. He blinked slowly, his eyes watery. Carefully, Robby dislodged his wrist from Jack’s hold and put his hand back on the gurney. For a moment, he kept a hold of it. He squeezed Jack’s hand. “They’re gonna patch you up. I’ll see you later, okay?”
Jack just blinked again, before he was taken out of the room.
I love you. Robby thought as he watched the gurney roll out and towards the elevators. I hope I get to tell you.