Chapter Text
Doctor Rakhimov had never seen anyone survive a wound so severe, and yet here he was in the aftermath of a surgery that had done what should have been impossible.
Landry Grace was something else, and the doctor found himself seeking out the room he had been put in. There was another man, identical to Mr. Grace, sitting beside the bed, and for a few long moments the exhausted Doctor Rakhimov thought he was hallucinating.
Then the other man looked up and made eye contact with the surgeon, and the world seemed to freeze.
Doctor Rakhimov had never left a room so quickly, his heart pounding out of his chest. Something about that young man made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end, and the surgeon knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he had come face to face with the force of nature that was an elder twin.
Doctor Rakhimov did not return to that wing of the hospital again for nearly a month.
****************************
Casey sat silently beside Court’s bed, watching his brother sleep.
Court was so still, and Casey would have almost thought he was dead if it weren’t for the steady beeping of the heart monitor and the slow rise and fall of his chest.
They…had almost lost Courtland.
The last hour of the drive to safety had been full of desperation and fear as Colt struggled to keep Court alive, and Casey searched for a safe place to get him the medical help he so desperately needed. Court had barely been breathing when they reached the Tashkent International Clinic in Uzbekistan, and Casey had scrambled to help Colt lift him out of the backseat.
There had been so much blood, hot and sticky against Casey’s hands, and he had prayed they weren’t too late as he all but shoved Colt back toward the car with orders to keep Ryland safe, Court already being rushed inside. Colt had called him about an hour later with news that he had found a small apartment in the outskirts of the city, and no one asked too many questions.
Colt stayed with Ryland at the apartment, the youngest still deeply asleep but other than that completely fine, and Casey stayed at the hospital with Court.
He refused to leave his brother alone.
According to the doctors, Court had barely make it through the surgery. His heart stopping twice before doctors managed to get it started again.
The bullet had entered between the two lowest ribs on the left side of Court’s body, and had nicked his left lung before punching through him and embedding itself in his right kidney. The bullet had plugged the kidney wound, and Court hadn’t suffered any serious complications from the minor lung injury until they were just a few minutes from the hospital.
All in all, he had been extremely lucky.
The doctors said Court shouldn’t have survived, but Casey hadn’t doubted for a moment that his brother would pull through.
Court was a fighter.
Something as simple as a bullet wound wasn’t going to be enough to kill him.
Sighing heavily, still coming down from the adrenaline that had been pumping through his veins for the last 24 hours, Casey sank back in his chair and kept watching his twin.
He wondered how Colt and Ryland were doing, then calmed himself with the reminder that Colt would take good care of the youngest until he woke up.
And just like Court, Ryland was a fighter.
He would wake up.
They both would.
**************************
Miles away, almost all the way across the city, Colt sat curled up in an armchair and watched Ryland’s chest slowly rise and fall.
He’s alive, Colt told himself, over and over again. He’s alive, he’s alive, he’s alive…
…and he was so still.
Tears blurred Colt’s eyes suddenly, and he shuddered as he curled in on himself, wishing Casey were with him even though he understood why the eldest had to stay at the hospital.
At the hospital.
With Court.
A strangled sob tore itself out of Colt’s throat.
Court.
Colt had never seen so much blood at one time. He hadn’t even realized one person could bleed like that.
It had been horrifying, pressing down on Court’s back and feeling his racing heartbeat. Feeling his shuddering breaths as he struggled for air. Feeling his blood, warm and tacky and so, so much of it—
There was still blood under his nails.
Colt gagged violently, the realization too much, and he scrambled to his feet to rush for the bathroom. He slammed to the ground on his knees, doubling over, and retched convulsively.
It hurt, but the pain was secondary to the all-consuming revulsion washing over him every time he had to see the blood on his hands.
Court was alive, he was okay, he was going to heal, he wasn’t going to die…but Colt had evidence on his hands that he almost had.
Another wave of heaves overtook him, and Colt barely managed to keep himself upright.
When it finally stopped, the nausea a greasy weight in his stomach even though he had nothing left to bring up, Colt slowly dragged himself to his feet and rinsed his face.
The blood caught the light again, and suddenly his chest felt tight with panic.
Get it off.
Scrambling, he all but fell into the shower, panting raggedly as he managed to get the water on. It was icy cold, and he started shivering almost immediately, but he found himself glad it wasn’t warm.
Warm like blood.
Scrubbing at his hands, he frantically picked at his nails until he was certain all the blood was gone. Only then did he realize his clothes were still on and hanging heavily off of him, sopping wet.
Slowly, shivering, suddenly drained, he slowly tugged at the soaked fabric until he could get out of all of it. Then he just stood shivering under the water until he felt like he could truly breathe again.
He had no idea how long that took.
When he finally got out, hands and feet numb, skin stinging, he clumsily wrapped a towel around himself and went to find fresh clothes on autopilot.
Later, he would be glad he had brought a change.
Once he was in dry clothes, he crumpled back into the armchair beside Ryland’s bed and just shivered, staring into the middle distance.
His back ached.
For some reason, that was the final straw.
Colt curled forward over the edge of the bed and started sobbing, days of stress and fear finally overwhelming him.
He knew he was supposed to be strong, that he was supposed to look after Ryland while Casey was watching Court, but Colt didn’t feel very strong.
Colt just really wanted Ryland to wake up.
And, deep down, a part of him was wailing for his older brothers; a part of him that was still just a scared little boy watching as his brother suffered under the hands of a monster.
Oh, how little had changed.
“Wake up, Ry,” he whimpered into the silence, hating how pathetic he sounded. “Please…”
Ryland didn’t even twitch.