Work Text:
Bang!
Virgil whipped his head up from the drink he was nursing at the bar to the sound of a gunshot. Normally even this ramshackle of a town had it’s calm moments, particularly in the evening, but it seemed that it was not the case this time as the shot rang out like a bell.
Virgil, the sheriff of the town who probably shouldn’t have drunk that last shot, or most of the shots he had consumed, immediately went out to investigate the sound, stumbling heavily as his world swayed back and forth under his feet. If Virgil had ever been on the ocean, he would’ve likened it to trying to walk normally on a storm battered ship, but Virgil himself had never seen water together in anything larger than a pond or lake at most.
Virgil nearly fell over as he pushed the doors to the bar outwards, in his drunken state forgetting they moved with him as he exited. He managed not to fall, but it took far longer than it would sober for Virgil to deduce which way he should go.
There was a slight crowd off to one side of the bar in between houses, though it was simply just 2 people there, but seeing as there was no one else around, Virgil in his drunken state understood that was a little unusual. Virgil stumbled towards them.
“Heeeey, you hear that shot? Wazit one of you? Don’t worry if ya not done somethin’ wrong, its just rare to hear a shot like that so late and close to the bah.” Virgil slurred, sober Virgil would facepalm at Virgil’s outburst, as what happened next was Virgil’s own fault.
Before Virgil could react in time, one of the people in between the buildings in front of him bolted, Virgil only able to unholster his gun and point it towards where the person was after the person had run out of sight.
Virgil was way to drunk to try and pursue and even in his drunk haze he knew it, so instead he stumbled up to the other figure that as he approached, Virgil realized was sitting against the wall.
“Waz it you that took the shot boy? Partner?” Virgil slurred, unable to tell how old the other person was. Strangely, the person didn’t reply. It took a long moment of staring at the person to understand why.
The person had his hand to his stomach and Virgil could see his hand covered in red, which even in Virgil’s haze he recognized the cause immediately. Blood, meaning the person was shot by the other person who fled.
I’m WAY too drunk to properly help this guy, but I know who could and is not drunk as a skunk. Virgil was still grateful for (some of) the alcohol in his system to keep him calmer than he would be coming upon this sober. When he wasn’t overthinking things he got things done.
Virgil immediately replaced the man’s hands in his stomach with his own, talking with the man to try and keep him awake. The man groaned, signaling he was still awake, but Virgil knew it wouldn’t last with the blood the man was losing.
“Hey partner, you’re a little silent there, I’m gonna help ya, what’s your name?” Virgil patted the man’s face, to which the man’s eyes shot open, baby blues shining in the moonlight, off the bat the man’s eyelids dropping and eyes glassy.
“’mile.” The man muttered while weakly grasping at Virgil’s arm. “got shot.”
“I can see that, you remember who shot you... Meal?” Virgil had to stop applying pressure to the man’s stomach as he lurchingly picked up the man into his arms, stumbling a bit at first.
The man weakly shook his head into Virgil’s arm now and Virgil barely heard the name over his heartbeat as he carried the man towards his personal doctor friend named Roman, he would be able to help much easier..
“Emile, my mom gave tat name ta me...” Emile slurred, for an entirely different reason than Virgil.
Speaking of Roman, Virgil saw him walking off in the distance, likely hearing the sound of the gunshot in the quiet town.
“Roman, need a little help, ‘s been shot!” Virgil yelled, wincing as he realized he probably jarred Emile in his arms. Roman began to run, replying with something, but Virgil couldn’t tell what Roman said as he focused back on Emile.
“Emile, who shot you? If I know, I can arrest them and make sure they never hurt someone again.” Virgil pleaded as Emile appeared to be slipping into unconsciousness.
In the last bits of consciousness, Virgil makes out a series of mumbling sentences. “Beware the cuckoo atop the clock, he does not tell the time. Two can dance the other does not and why three can flip a dime.”
And with that Emile’s eyes slip closed and his body goes limp. Virgil shakes him in his arms, trying to rouse Emile awake, but Emile doesn’t stir. Not when Virgil is telling Roman what he saw happen. Not when being ran to Roman’s home. Not when they were trying to save him. Not when his shooter came back to finish the job once and for all.