Chapter Text
Knees braced on either side of her, hands locked below the vest line, Tim pushed with everything he had. Blood soaked through the gauze, pooling under his palms, slick and warm. It didn’t matter.
“She's crashing! Charging to 150, clear!”
He lifted his hands and scrambled back as the defibrillator discharged. Lucy’s body arched, then fell limp again.
“No change. Charging 200. Clear!”
The second shock snapped through her. The monitor flatlined, then sputtered and finally faint blips returned.
“She's back. Gurney up and let's roll out!”
He climbed into the back of the rig as they lifted her in.
“Six minutes out!” the driver shouted.
He watched as the paramedic started an IV, inserted pain meds and… so many other things that he could barely keep track. His vision kept tunneling on the crimson seeping through the fresh layers of gauze.
“Officer!” The paramedic snapped her fingers at him. “If you’re here, make yourself useful. Keep pressure while I pack this wound!”
He nodded, pressing down again as she worked on others.
“Damn it, she’s crashing again!” The medic slammed her palm against the glass separating her from the driver. “Go! Faster!”
She turned back, “I need to do more for that wound. Get around me, start compressions.”
He moved instantly. Hands interlaced, he began chest compressions, counting in his head.
The ambulance lurched to a stop, and the doors flew open.
Seven… eight… nine…
“Keep going!” someone barked.
He hopped on to the gurney with her as they wheeled her out, still pumping.
Sixteen… seventeen… eighteen…
“What have we got?” a trauma nurse called as they barreled through the ER doors.
“31 year old female, multiple GSWs above and below the vest,” the medic rattled off. “Packed what we could, uncontrolled abdominal bleed. Lost her twice, CPR ongoing.”
Twenty-nine…thirty…thirty-one…
They were rolling and talking, put into a medical bay. Tim barely noticed being pulled back until his hands were empty and the team surged around her. They transferred her to the trauma table.
No one told him to leave. That was fine, he wouldn't anyway. All he could do was watch as they worked.
“Let’s get a femoral line in!”
“Pressure’s dropping”
“Hang O neg, two units stat!”
It all blurred. All the sounds—the alarms, the clipped orders, the steady beep of machines—too much. It was too much, and it all fell into white noise in his ears.
Tim looked down. His hands were trembling, slick with her blood. His chest heaved, but he couldn’t hear his own breath.
Then one long, unbroken tone cut through everything.
One sound.
One sentence.
“Time of death, thirteen twenty-one.”