Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Red. That was the first thing his mind registered. Rick froze, his heart pounding loudly in his ears. No, no, no. Numbly he felt TC and Nuzo push past him. Thomas was on his back facing Rick, head propped up on his backpack, eyes wide open, and covered in red. Nuzo dropped onto his knees next to him and rammed a hand into the pulse point in his neck.

“Tommy, tommy. Geez brother. Come on.” His voice was deeper than normal, the tone that meant he was internally panicking.

Thomas’s hand flopped on his chest in apparent response and Rick felt his knees sag in relief. He wasn’t dead. Thank you, God. He wasn’t dead.

“Ricky, call 911, now.” Nuzo’s voice was still low and he started running his hands down Thomas’s torso.

“TC, help me with this. We gotta find the bleed. Tommy, where are you hurting, man?”

Rick fumbled for the phone in his pocket.

TC dropped down opposite Nuzo and helped him tear Thomas’s shirt open. His torso was nearly clean under the material. No gushing wound to account for the gore that was soaking into Nuzo’s pants.

Rick tore his eyes away and focused on dialing. What was the stupid number? Another moment passed before his mind would supply it. 911. That was it. He held the phone to his ear and looked up.

Nuzo had a hold of Thomas’s wrist. Was he looking for a pulse? Please no.

“What did you do? Tommy, oh no, man. What did you do?” Nuzo’s voice had risen, the false calm failing him.

“911, what is your emergency?” The phone. Right. 911. His friend was dying. Say something.

“We need a medic.” Rick heard his own voice backfeed through the speaker against his ear.

“Sir, what is your location?”

Again it took Rick’s mind a moment to catch up.

“We’re under an overpass.” He looked around for a landmark, “I think it’s Route One. In Arlington, right by the river. We’re across from a Porsche dealership.”

The dispatcher was silent for a moment and Rick found himself stepping closer to Thomas. Nuzo was still holding onto his wrist, while TC had rocked back onto his heels, looking shell shocked. Thomas was pliant in Nuzo’s grip, eyes open and drifting until they seemed to focus on the face above his. His free hand flopped loosely onto Nuzo’s.

“Eso duele.”

He pushed against Nuzo’s grip on his arm.

“No.” Nuzo’s voice was hard. “Leave it alone.”

At that moment the dispatcher came back on the line.

“Sir, I have dispatched units. Can you tell me what is happening?”

Rick didn’t know. Wasn’t sure how to interpret what his eyes were telling him. TC captured the free hand Thomas was using to push Nuzo, easily wrapping it in one gigantic hand and pulling it back down to his side.

“Easy. Nuz is helping.”

Thomas didn’t seem to hear, eyes still loosely focused on Nuzo’s face.

“Por favor, déjame ir.”

“Damn you,” Nuzo’s voice was shockingly harsh. “Damn you, Thomas. You don’t get to do this.” the brittle tone broke on the last word.

Thomas stared back at Nuz, his eyes huge and dark against colorless skin and red blood and then with a sigh his eyes slid off Nuz’s face and into some middle distance. Rick felt his heart rise to his throat to choke him even as TC released the hand and fumbled for a pulse. The 911 operator was speaking again, but Rick couldn’t hear her over the roaring of his own blood in his ears. He felt like he was watching in slow motion as TC shook his head and then Nuzo was yelling and suddenly time sped up and Rick was on the ground next to them and Nuzo was handing him Thomas’s arm and the phone was lost, he didn’t know where he’d dropped it. There was a deep gash in the wrist running down the arm towards the elbow in Thomas’s arm. That was where the blood must have been coming from, but now it was just a sluggish drip because Tommy’s heart wasn’t beating. Nuzo showed him where to pinch to keep the artery shut and then he was shoved to the side to give Nuzo room to do compressions. TC moved around to Thomas’s head to give rescue breaths and Rick could see Thomas’s eyes still wide open as TC leaned over him.

Chapter Text

Rick’s feet were like ice. He had a blanket draped across his legs that a nurse had put there, somehow without his noticing, along with a cup of water in his hand. He stared down at the white paper cup, turning it slowly, watching the leafy pattern on the exterior run into itself at the seam and start over. Nuzo had gotten a pulse back twice and lost it again before the EMTs showed up with the ambulance and took over the chest compressions. All the way up the hill to the ambulance Rick had walked alongside the gurney, keeping his fingers clamped tightly on that artery in a death grip, to keep death at bay. And he’d been praying all the while like he had never prayed in his entire life. And in fact, he never had prayed before then, come to think of it. The ambulance ride to the hospital was characterized by a blur of frantic motion and the unsteady beep of the heart monitor as the EMTs regained a pulse for the third time. Somebody had finally taken over holding the compression on Thomas’s arm and Rick’s fingers had been gently pried away. The last he had seen they had wheeled Thomas back into the operating room and deposited everyone else in a private waiting room outside the OR wing. That had been an hour ago.

His hands were cold too, he realized, but they were sweating and he could feel grit in between his fingers and in the miniscule creases of the skin on his hand. He turned a palm up towards the light. The nurse had done her best with some alcohol wipes to clean his hands, and there was nothing visible left on them, but he could still feel it. Thomas’s blood on his hands. It wasn’t the first time, but somehow it felt different this time.

Afghanistan had been hell, but war was hell. They were home now. This wasn’t supposed to happen here.

“How could he do this?”

Rick looked up at the voice, startlingly loud compared to the silence, to see TC, pacing back and forth at the other end of the room, near the door. Nuzo was standing with him, a hand raised soothingly.

“Today. He chooses today to try to end it?” TC was getting louder. He was angry, Rick realized. And he was blaming Thomas. Rick felt a flash of something white and hot shoot through his own body. In a moment he was upright, water sloshing onto his hand as he crushed the cup, feet tangling in the blanket as it fell.

“ What are you saying?” Rick was surprised at the sound of his own voice. He was angry too.

TC stopped his pacing to look at him for a moment. “You know what I’m saying. You’re the one who got the text” he said.

“Yeah, I did.” Rick found the words spilling out his mouth from some unconscious recess of his mind. “Tommy didn’t write that.”

“He hasn’t been himself since we got back from Afghanistan.” Nuzo’s voice was soft. “None of us have.” He added even more quietly.

“Shut up,” Rick felt himself trembling, “you really think he did that to himself?” His heart was pounding in his ears.

“Both of you?” he took a step towards them, but stumbled on the blanket still wrapped around his feet. In the next moment Nuzo was there, catching him by the elbow and guiding him back into the chair.

“Hey now, sit down, okay?”

Rick wanted to push him off, but found he couldn’t catch his breath, or steady his trembling hands enough to resist. Nuzo knelt in front of him and gripped the back of his neck pulling him forward until his head was resting on Nuzo’s shoulder.

“It’s okay. We’re okay.” Nuzo’s voice was deep again.

Rick started to push himself up, but a protesting groan from the neighboring chair and a large, heavy, hand on his back stopped him.

“We’re good Ricky, just breathe.”

Chapter Text

“I’m sorry,” the nurse’s face was sympathetic as she faced the three of them from behind her desk. “I understand your frustration, but I can’t tell you any more than the doctor already has, until I obtain consent from the patient or his designated power of attorney.”

Nuzo let out a sharp puff of air through his nose and leaned over her desk.

“Then can you let us talk to the doctor again?” he asked her, a note of frustration creeping into his voice.

Rick’s gaze moved back to the nurse. She aimed an empathetic smile in their direction and straightened.

“I’m afraid he would only tell you the same thing. All personnel in the hospital follow the same guidelines. We can only tell you his general condition unless we have consent from the patient, or power of attorney.” She repeated.

TC swore deeply and bitterly and the nurse’s eyes flicked to him. She seemed to draw back fractionally at his uncharacteristic display of frustration. TC had the good grace to look embarrassed and he raised his hands in apology.

“I’m sorry, Miss…” he examined the nurse's name tag. “Miss Grace?”

The nurse smiled, “It’s alright. I understand and I really wish there was something more that I could do…” she trailed off for a moment, before gathering herself swiftly, shifting her focus back to Nuzo.

“Do you know how to contact his family?” she asked, “Or if he ever filled out a living will, or durable power of attorney?”

“I think— I don’t know. Who makes decisions for him if he doesn’t have that paperwork filled out?” Nuzo lifted a hand to the bridge of his nose, partially covering his face.

The nurse took a moment to consider her answer, or perhaps to give Nuzo a moment to gather himself.

“The doctors will be making care decisions on his behalf,” she paused. “If it comes to… a bigger decision, and your friend can’t make it for himself, it’ll be handled by the ethics committee here at the hospital.”

Rick felt something tight and hard in his throat.

“There’s not going to be any decisions though. You said— I thought the doctor said they stabilized him.”

Grace bit her lip, looking between them.

“Look,” she said after a moment, “your friend is still considered critical. We’re doing a lot to support him and he seems to be responding. That is encouraging news,” she paused again. “We’re not seeing active deterioration right now.”

She was careful not to emphasize her last two words, but Rick could still hear the warning in what she was telling them.

Nuzo looked away from her and clenched his jaw hard. TC swore again. Rick took a deep breath and laid a hand on Nuzo’s arm, stepping past him closer to the desk. Grace bit her lip again as she looked at them. Rick was struck suddenly that she was very young.

“What do we need to do?” he asked her.

“If there’s anybody who cares about him, I would let them know.”

Rick nodded, “Yeah…” he looked to the side for a moment and then back. “He has an Aunt or something that he lived with here in Virginia, when he came home from Afghanistan. I’m gonna call her.”

“I think that’s a good idea,” Grace said.

Rick thanked the nurse and turned away from the desk, the others following him as he led the way back towards the waiting room.

As they reached the door, Nuzo rubbed his face hard and ran a hand over his bald head, inhaling deeply.

“Damn, I forgot about his aunt. Thanks—” he started, but broke off when Ricky bumped his shoulder as they passed through the doorway.

Rick looked around feeling lost for a moment. The room looked totally unfamiliar, although he knew they had already spent hours here. He spied the blanket he’d been given, the only thing his brain had apparently registered in all that time, crumpled on a chair where it had fallen when the doctor had come to speak with them. Nuzo and TC moved past him back into the room, Nuzo settling himself into one of the chairs and TC taking up a place, standing beside him. Rick couldn’t remember if that was the way they had arranged themselves before. They all looked at each other for a silent moment.

“He’s alive,” Nuzo said, “that’s…”

TC laid a hand on Nuzo’s shoulder.

Rick felt a flash of anger at their pessimism. Thomas had survived in Afghanistan. Their boy was a fighter. He wouldn’t quit now. He wouldn’t. He was alive and that was enough.
Rick looked away from them, reaching his hand into his pocket. An empty pocket. He patted it just to make sure and looked down. Sure enough, nothing. He ran a systematic search pattern through his jacket and the… scrubs? He didn’t remember changing out of his jeans and shirt. He looked up and Nuzo was wearing a matching set. Only TC was still in his civvies. Rick could see where blood had stiffened the jean material at his knees. Oh. He swallowed hard, feeling sick. Damn, Tommy.

He raised his eyes and found that TC was looking at him.

“You okay man?” TC asked.

Rick nodded jerkily, his eyes suddenly blurry.

“My phone,” he said, patting down his pockets, and then swiping at his eyes angrily with his sleeve. “I can't find it.”

Sniffing, he walked over to the blanket puddled on the chair and lifted it. The fabric felt familiar in his hand, but no phone tumbled out of its folds. He looked blankly down at the empty chair. He had no idea where he had left it. He turned and lowered himself into the seat and looked up at the others.
TC cracked a small, wry smile at his mundane frustration.

“Does anyone else have the number?” Rick asked.

TC’s smile slipped and he shook his head. Nuzo too was shaking his head.

“I think you’re the only one who ever talked to her.” Nuzo said.

Rick looked around the room blankly. His head felt all woozy, like it had been stuffed with wool.

“Did you leave it at the hotel this morning?” TC asked.

Rick’s head swung slowly side to side.

“No, I’m sure I had it— try calling me.”

TC pulled his phone out of his jean pocket and unlocked the screen. After a few moments Rick could hear the outgoing ring on TC’s phone. He listened for an answering buzz but there was nothing. The ringing clicked over to voicemail and Rick heard his own voice begin to invite callers to leave a message. TC clicked the end button and looked up at him. Rick looked back at him bemused.

“You’re sure you didn’t leave it?” TC asked again.

“He called 911,” Nuzo reminded them. “Maybe you left it in the ambulance.”

Rick cast his mind back. He remembered talking to the 911 operator, but not what happened to the phone after that. He lowered himself back into the chair again, defeated. They were all silent for a long moment.

“Speaking of calls, I guess we should let Colonel Craig know,” said TC.

“Puts a damper on the press tour,” Nuzo agreed.

Rick was suddenly glad his phone was missing. He had no desire to talk to Colonel Craig. The man, and his team, had pressured them into the press tour that brought them all to DC for the anniversary of their rescue from Afghanistan. He had been uncomfortable about the idea from the beginning, the only redeeming factor having been reuniting with Nuzo, TC, and Tommy. He scrubbed a hand down his face. Well, damn. It was going worse than he had feared.

“I’m going to go see if the EMT’s left my phone with the desk,” he announced.

TC and Nuzo looked up at him as he rose to feet, and TC took an aborted step towards him as if afraid he’d disappear if they didn’t stay together. Rick might have been projecting his own feelings though, as he found himself reluctant to leave the room. He paused at the door.

“I’ll be back,” he told them. Nuzo and TC nodded back at him, and then he let the door close. It was a promise.