Work Text:
The back window of the car shattered into a million pieces just as they drove off the curb, crashing into the street below. The bumper hit the ground first, jostled the entire vehicle while the wheels spun rapidly on air to catch up, screeching metal on pavement.
Vincent cursed loudly, pulled the steering wheel to the side so hard his elbow hit the door, but the car followed the motion and curved into the road. He checked the rearview mirror and through the broken window saw the outline of the hospital stand out starkly against the dark night sky. The two police cars pursuing them had stopped right before the drop, probably not daring to take the risk and pull the same stunt they had. If they sped up now and didn't stop for a while, they could probably lose them easily.
"Looks like it worked," Vincent said, having to put considerable effort into relaxing his shoulders. The adrenaline of the wild chase through the hospital had hardly left his system and he felt all his muscles strain against the instinct to keep running. "You're welcome, by the way."
When he got no answer Vincent finally looked over at Leo, hunched in on himself with his head against the dashboard. He didn't want to avert his eyes from the road too long – they had already crashed enough cars the past few days – but then he noticed the growing patch of red against the back of Leo's shirt and it felt like his heart jumped up into his throat.
"Fuck," Vincent hissed under his breath, pushing down on the gas pedal even harder.
"Yeah-" Leo swallowed. He pushed both hands against the storage compartment to steady himself, Vincent noticed there was sweat on the side of his face and he looked a lot paler. "I think they got me."
"Hold on."
The car was speeding through streets lined by apartment buildings, but Vincent started desperately scanning the traffic signs for some pointer toward the interstate he knew had to be nearby. Other cars honked at them when they ran a red light and Leo groaned loudly when them skidding against the sidewalk caused the car to quake. Vincent threw it into a sharp turn and was sure he felt the tires leave the asphalt for a second.
"Easy!" Leo yelled from beside him, pain clouding his voice. Vincent knew he wasn't exactly pleased with his erratic driving right now, but he had seen enough colleagues get shot in the field to know how bad it could be if they didn't do something quick. He clenched his teeth harder as they made it onto the highway.
"Sit back," he told Leo. "Put pressure on the wound."
Leo did as he was told without complaining for once, leaning back against the seat instead of slumped forward. Vincent saw him bracing his feet against the floor of the car to force his back against the padding harder and slow the bleeding.
He rolled down the window, but could not hear any sirens. Checking the rearview mirror again, there was no sign of the police following them either, meaning Vincent had probably been right in assuming they'd lose them easily in the busy city streets. He rolled the window back up again and started looking instead for an exit they could use.
Barely ten minutes later he saw the signage indicating a tank station, and Vincent switched on his blinkers to merge lanes. "Just a little longer, Leo." He got a pained growl in response.
It was the middle of the night. Vincent hadn't checked the clock but it must be past 1 am and the parking was almost deserted. Near the back, several large trucks were parked, but only one or two vehicles were upfront where the lights were. The tank station itself was brightly lit too, meaning the store was probably open 24/7 and had people inside. Vincent drove the car around to behind the building, parking it near the edge of the property and close to the tree line.
He stepped out of the car to walk to the other side, pulling open the door of the passenger seat where Leo sat. He had his hands on his shoulder immediately, trying to assess the damage. The bullet had entered from the back, just under his left clavicle, where blood was rapidly staining his clothes. But Vincent could not find an exit wound.
"The good news," he said, "is that the bullet is still inside."
Leo whipped his head up. "That's the good fucking news?"
"It is," Vincent answered as he walked round to the trunk. There had to be a medkit, every car had one. He just had to find it. "Exit wounds bleed like nobody's business."
"I'm in pain like nobody's business," Leo answered lowly.
"Don't be a baby." Vincent finally found the medkit and brought it back to Leo. "We'll patch you up and be out of here in no time. Stay calm and we'll have no problems."
"I got shot!" The way Leo said it was almost as if Vincent could have failed to notice the obvious. "No wonder you're calm. This is a me problem."
Vincent had to seriously resist the urge to roll his eyes at how dramatic his partner in crime was being right now. "I said don't be a baby. Now get your legs out."
"My legs?"
"I need to fix you up, right?"
Putting the medkit on the dashboard, Vincent unlatched it to dig around for what they would need to treat a gunshot wound. It was poorly stocked, not much more than some plasters, bandages, and disinfectant with a small medical scalpel buried beneath the rest. It wasn't the forceps he had been hoping to find, but it would have to do. He retrieved the bottle of water they had thrown in the back and an old towel that had been there when they stole the car.
Leo had done as asked without much protest, which was probably a testament to how much he was hurting. Turning his body to sit sideways on the seat in the car allowed him to plant both feet firmly on the ground, and made it so that he was facing Vincent, who was still standing outside.
"Now lean forward."
Leo smirked up at him. "Don't you gotta take me out for dinner first?"
This time Vincent did roll his eyes. "Very funny, Leo. You rather I leave the bullet in? Infections are such a blast after all."
Leo tried to wave dismissively, but the movement only elicited a pained grimace. "Yeah, yeah. You don't have to mother hen me." He leaned forward, putting his elbows onto his knees. The position was about as awkward as the joke had implied, but it did mean Vincent had easy access to the wound.
He pulled Leo's shirt out of the way first, ripping the already frayed edges. "This is not gonna be pleasant," he warned and felt Leo nod against him to indicate he had heard. Using the water bottle and towel, he cleaned the wound as best he could, trying to get all the blood out. To his credit, Leo didn't make a sound. Vincent gave him the bottle once he was done, so he could drink the remaining water.
"This would be easier with some booze," Leo remarked.
Vincent scowled at the idea of going into a liquor store in their current condition. "Too bad we're still wanted men."
He picked up the scalpel, turning it over in his hand a few times. Despite his police background, he hadn't actually done this before – just seen it performed on others by professionals. But Vincent knew he had a steady hand and trusted his own capabilities. He just had to make sure not to hesitate.
Which was what he was currently doing and led to Leo looking up at him. The sight of the scalpel made him blanch even more, his complexion turning closer to the color of chalk. Vincent was scared he was gonna hurl so he took a step back.
"You're gonna stick that in me?" Leo asked.
"Well, not in you exactly." Vincent made up his resolve and stepped forward again, using his free hand to shove Leo's head down so he could see the wound again. The back of his neck was cold with sweat. "I'm just going to get the bullet out. It's not hard."
Leo pushed his head back up. "You've done this before?"
"Of course," Vincent lied.
"Where?"
He splayed his hand against Leo's back, fingers pressed close to the wound to keep him still. "Boy's scouts."
Leo opened his mouth – maybe he was about to deliver another quip – but all that came out was a smothered howl when Vincent stuck the scalpel into the wound. Not wanting to take any risks, he might have plunged it in a little deeper than strictly necessary, angling it upward. Leo grabbed hold of his knees, grip tight enough to border on painful.
Trying to find the bullet was harder than he had anticipated, and all the while Leo's shifting wasn't helping. "Sit still-" Vincent said, which he knew wasn't easy when somebody was digging into your shoulder blade with a knife.
"S-shit Vincent just-" Leo's fingers were vices around his legs, knuckles turning white. "Just get it out, please get it the fuck out-"
Before he could even finish Vincent finally felt something give. With one smooth motion, he popped out the bullet and pulled the scalpel back. The wound started oozing blood again but he pressed the cloth back in its place, holding it there. Leo's breathing was coming out ragged. He wasn't yelling anymore, but his hands were still clenched against Vincent's legs.
Vincent laughed, finally feeling the adrenaline die down. His head was spinning. "That wasn't too bad."
Leo tilted up his head to grimace at him, eyes red-rimmed and tired. "Fuck you, Vincent."
They dressed the wound. Despite all the screaming nobody had come to check what the ruckus was about – which probably said a lot more about other people than it did about them. Vincent sat back down behind the steering wheel, watching Leo pick at the bandages. "If we leave now we can be at the airport in a few hours," he said.
Leo nodded, then rested his head against the window. "Guess I'll take a nap then. That shit wore me out."
Vincent drove the car back onto the highway, their taillight becoming one of many in the smear of red created by midnight traffic.