LEO
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09/02/2003
Passi City
The Philippines
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"Somebody fucking do something!" I scream at North and the rest of the team who just came sprinting into the room with Abe, he's the one who led them to us.

"Rosa's bringing the supplies," North snaps, speaking into his comms urgently and trying to direct the medics to our location.

"We don't have time to wait around, she's fucking dying!" I yell, looking back down at her with my eyes glazing over.

The last time Nova nearly died, there wasn't a single scratch on her body; it almost looked like she was simply in a deep sleep.

But now, it's nothing short of complete violence. There's blood gushing out of her chest. It's coating both of us completely, still trickling out between my fingers as I apply every ounce of my strength into stemming the seemingly infinite flow.

There's only so much blood somebody can lose before they die, and it's no different for her.

Tara is trying to bring her back around to awareness, speaking to her in a futile attempt of calmness. It's not working, and her voice is trembling with each word.

"How long are they going to take?!" I seethe up at North, he waves his hands at me to shut up.

I can't even bring myself to check if her pulse is still beating, or if she's still breathing. She'll be okay, she has to be alright.

She has to.

I growl in anger at the lack of response before pulling her towards me, wrapping her arm around the back of my neck and hoisting her into a carry; despite the fact my knuckles are still severely busted out from the hammer a few days ago.

I'm careful with her, even though I don't think she can feel anything right now.

The bleeding is slowly lowering in severity; I don't know if that's because I've managed to stem it or because she's ran out of fucking blood.

If she doesn't survive this, I have no idea what I'll do. I thought she was dead whilst I was being held captive. Something led her back to me, but now she's dying right in front of my own eyes.

I feel so fucking helpless.

"Where's the chopper?" I demand, standing up off of the ground with her. My injured leg seems entirely irrelevant right now, I can't even feel it.

I don't care how much damn blood I lose, as long as it's no more of hers.

"You probably shouldn't move-"

"Where's the fucking chopper?!" I repeat, interrupting Banksy who jolts backwards.

"Marcus is redirecting it to outside the back entrance. He's landing it in the next minute or two," North hisses, visibly stressed himself.

I don't waste another second before flying out of the room with her. Tara is yelling out the directions from behind me as I dart down the staircase, attempting to tread as lightly as possible on my blazing heels.

Nova isn't usually heavy, I know that from training when we've had to fight against each other. Right now though, she's a fucking dead weight.

It hauntingly feels as though I'm carrying a dead body.

I swivel right around a corner once we're down the stairs, halting as we come face to face with Rosa and a medic I don't recognise.

Rosa's expression immediately drops once she witnesses the severity of the situation. She stops dead in her own tracks before spinning around and gesturing for us to follow her back outside.

"See? You're going to get help now, you're 'gonna be alright. I promise, Nova." I whisper to her despite the fact she's completely unconscious, if not already gone.

The thought makes me sick to my stomach.

I'm just hoping that maybe she'll make a noise, say something; just give me a fucking indication that she's still here. I'm met with nothing but silence, only broken by the thump of the chopper wings as we reach the back exit.

"Elijah! Get a chest seal now!" Rosa yells to Elijah as he opens up the chopper from inside the second it touches down. He nods and retreats as we near the aircraft, Rosa dives in before me and gestures for me to try and pass Nova up to her.

She takes her by the arms as I hoist myself up, moving her legs inside with the help of the other medic so she's laying flat on the ground.

Elijah immediately kneels down next to her with a box of supplies, Rosa falling to the ground beside him as they get to work.

The others start to file in, staying on the opposite side of the scene so the medics have space to work. I pace back and forth in complete panic, supporting myself against the wall of the chopper as I attempt to calm down.

Rosa slices right down the middle of her shirt and rips it open to assess the damage. In a normal circumstance I'd definitely look away, but my main concern is that fucking stab wound.

I try to ignore the way her face pales for a second. If Rosa is stressed, I'm even more fucking worried.

I thought I was desensitised to gore, but clearly not when Nova is involved. It's a triangle shape because the bastard twisted it, pierced deep into the right side of her chest just a few inches away from her sternum.

If that had been on the left side, it probably would have punctured right in her heart.

Elijah grabs onto a stethoscope as the chopper begins to lift back off of the ground, plugging it into his ears and pressing the diaphragm against her chest. Rosa takes what I'm guessing is the 'chest seal' and is about to stick it over the wound, but hesitates once Elijah shakes his head urgently.

"Don't, it's a pneumothorax. We have to leave the chest seal off and stem the bleeding until we're back at base. It needs ventilation." He orders her as she discards it off to the side and instead goes to grab at some gauze.

What the fuck is that?

"Is she alive?" I urge, pacing over to them until the younger medic stops me with his arm.

"You can't go-"

"I said is she fucking alive?!" I seethe, getting in his face and ready to snap his goddamn arm if he tries to stop me again.

He gulps and steps aside. If I wasn't seeing red right now, I'd probably feel really bad.

Elijah glances up at me and gives a short nod before getting back to work.

Oh fuck, thank God.

I stagger backwards into the wall of the chopper and bury my head in my hands, sliding to the floor. I have no idea if my emotions are relief, or still complete panic.

I think it's probably both. They're running completely wild.

Tara edges over and links her arm through mine, leaning against me as some sort of comfort. Her own dark eyes are bloodshot and I can hear her heaving in deep breaths to calm down herself.

Everything fades out for me; the weakness I've sustained over my captivity and the worry of the situation are the only things impacting me right now. My eyes are fixated on the movements of the medics, everything they do is completely foreign to me.

I feel so utterly out of control of what's happening, like I'm watching in through the looking glass.

Minutes feel like hours as I shift around, waiting for that euphoric moment we land back at base and she can receive the treatment she needs. I have no idea what happened with the hostages, I guess they got flown out on another chopper. Abe is sat in the opposite corner, knees huddled up to his chin.

I had absolutely no way of contacting help since that bastard Nicholas crushed Nova's comms. If Abe hadn't led the team to us, there's no doubt that she would have died.

I'm in complete debt to him.

"What's a pneumo-" My words trail off since I can't remember whatever word Elijah used to describe the issue. The medic who I snapped at earlier crouches down in front of me.

"Pneumothorax, it's when air gets into the cavity between the lungs, because of the puncture. We need to fit a chest tube as soon as we're back at base, drain out any fluids to avoid a collapse." He explains quietly, fidgeting.

A collapse?

"You're telling me her fucking lung might collapse?"

"We should get to the base before that can happen; but if it goes untreated, that's the second to worst case scenario." He sighs, looking away with his head hung low.

I don't even need to ask what the worst case scenario is.

North strides over and steps around us towards the cockpit, heading inside and speaking with Marcus for a moment before he emerges again.

"We're set to touch down in eight minutes, is that enough time?" He asks hesitantly, glancing down at Nova before looking away with a grimace.

To my complete and utter relief, Rosa nods. "Somebody please contact Harper back at base and have her prepare an intercostal drain, as well as a drainage system. Inform her that we will be performing an immediate thoracostomy."

Banksy urgently switches on his radio and begins speaking into it. Whatever the fuck Rosa just said sounds like a different language to me.

My gaze is fixated on Nova's face, I'd give anything to see her open those eyes right now. She's got a large, red handprint stained onto the side of her cheek from when I was trying to keep her awake.

I slowly glimpse down at my hands, and it's only now I realise I can't even see my skin. They're completely coated in a thick layer of her blood. I frantically wipe them on my pants, but it's engrained deep in the lines of my palms, the wrinkles of my knuckles, under my fingernails.

It's everywhere.

"Leo," Tara whispers, I nod slowly. "Who did this?"

Where the fuck do I start in explaining this?

"Las," I mumble.

Her face twists into shock, "the executor?"

"Yeah, turns out he's actually Nicholas, her brother." I murmur under my breath, realising how fucking insane it actually sounds out loud. Tara's bloodshot eyes practically launch from their sockets.

"What the fuck? You're being honest?" She gasps, shooting forward from her seated position to look at me straight on, as though to check if I'm lying.

"Yeah," I sigh, "it's a long story, and my only concern right now is Nova's condition."

I probably come across a little more rudely than intended, but I'm not in the headspace to worry about my tone. I don't think Tara takes any offence either since she knows how serious the situation is.

"A lot changed between the both of you, didn't it?" She speaks in a hushed, saddened tone after a moment.

"Yeah, it really did." I can't deny it anymore.

She forces a small smile in a futile attempt and nudges my shoulder slightly, "you can talk with her about it when she recovers."

If she recovers.

I know she's trying to stay positive, it's Tara after all. She is right though, I don't think I can hold back on talking with her about these things I'm feeling.

I think back to that time I found her in her cabin back in Redhawk, half a bottle of JD deep and drunk out of her mind. She'd just heard that they'd found her Mom's ring. Now she just found out that her Mom has been dead the whole fucking time, murdered by her own blood.

She doesn't deserve the weight of this trauma, she deserves every last ounce of good in the world.

I used to be such a fucking prick to her, all those times. That operation where we had to execute Paolo Ramirez last year, she saved my life when I blanked out and almost got myself stabbed.

When she got the metal wedged in her leg, I got her out of the building.

The drug bust in Reynosa, Mexico. I was furious at the time when she fired that shot since it gave up our position; but if she hadn't, I'd have probably gotten a bullet through my brain.

That day we first arrived here in Panay and got hijacked, the emotions I felt when I saw her step out of that car.

When I fucking accused her of being the insider.

When I found out the insider was actually Jed and he'd lured her out to kill her, I ran like my goddamn life depended on it to reach her in time.

I gave her my vest during the attack.

She risked her life to come here and break us out of captivity. The first person she flew for and untied was me.

If I could take back every awful fucking thing I've said to her, I'd do it in a goddamn heartbeat.

She was never annoying or obnoxious, she was never an arrogant know it all like I used to think.

She's just, Nova.

Underneath that tough shield of exterior, the rough Southern voice, the intense green eyes; she's got a heart of gold.

And if I could've anticipated that Nicholas had the knife up his sleeve, I'd have taken the damn blade for her.

—

"Leo, Leo we're getting off!" Tara shakes me out of my daze as I blink my eyes, coming back to terms with the horrendous situation.

I jump to my feet as the chopper touches down, watching Nova immediately get hauled off and onto a gurney at the ready.

Now I feel the pain of my leg as I stagger forward before finding my balance against the choppers door. North turns around after stepping outside and raises his eyebrows in shock.

"Jesus, what the fuck happened to you?!" He urges.

"Leg got shot," I mumble, stepping down from the chopper with as much efficiency as possible. Banksy runs forward and helps me walk, but I don't want help.

I don't want any fucking attention on my leg, I want all the attention on getting her better.

"It's fine, I've managed this far." I lie, discreetly limping after the medics. Tara joins my side and wraps my arm over her shoulder before I can protest.

"Stop lying. You need help, and you want to see Nova. You need to go to the medbay for both anyway." She orders, almost as though she's my superior.

I don't argue with her, since her point makes perfect sense. I nod as she helps me walk, trying to maintain a good pace.

The second we step through the doors, I wish I hadn't fucking come to the med bay.

Three of them are working frantically. She's rolled onto her side and Elijah is already making an incision underneath her armpit. Rosa is scurrying around with who I'm guessing is Harper as they check on her vitals, I think.

They're muttering urgently amongst themselves in their foreign medical language, hooking her up to all sorts of machines in what feels like nanoseconds.

"Administering CPR," Harper mumbles as she immediately starts pushing on her chest, away from the wound which is now covered by gauze.

CPR. There's only one fucking reason they would have to administer CPR, the same reason I did that day in the woods.

It worked when I did it to her, that means it will work this time. It has to work this time.

I watch with a lump wedged deep my throat, glued in position as Harper blows into her mouth before resuming with the beats. Elijah is simultaneously sliding a tube into the incision he created, delicately trying to adjust it as her body rocks from the pressure of the chest pumps.

Theres a single noise as they all fall silent; vibrating through the air. The sudden, haunting sound of a flatline.

"Cardiac arrest, prepare defibrillators now."

Cardiac arrest.

Tara gasps, turning away and into the wall with a sob. I'm completely frozen still. My eyes are plastered open in horror as Rosa takes control of the machine, lining it up next to the bed and pulling out two paddles.

She rubs them together and presses one on the right side under her collar, the other just below her heart on the left as Harper stops the CPR for a moment, Elijah also stepping back.

"Clear!" Rosa yells as she activates the shock, sending her whole body jolting up from the bed.

I've never seen anything like this, I don't think me and Tara are even supposed to be in here but everybody is too busy to notice us. I've never witnessed defibrillators being used in real life.

My whole entire body is shivering out of control in utter fear, I can't even feel my hands. Everywhere is completely numb, sweat dripping down from the sides of my hair and running down my neck. Harper immediately resumes CPR as Elijah tries with shaking hands to position the drainage system.

I've never been religious, but I pray. I pray to any fucking God above to hear that rhythmic ring of her heartbeat. Anything instead of the drawn out, non stop sound of a flatline.

Please don't fucking take her away from me, not after everything.

I recite a prayer under my breath, one that my Mom used to always say.

Rosa's own face is glistening with sweat as she wipes her head with her forearm before positioning the paddles again.

"Clear!"

Everybody steps backwards as the voltage rips through her body for a second time, sending her back jumping more aggressively from the bed than the previous shock.

I stumble backwards to the wall Tara is sobbing against and slide myself down to the floor, burying my head deep into my bloodstained hands.

This isn't real, maybe I'm knocked out. Maybe this is all a hallucination.

Please don't fucking be real.

For the third time, Harper resumes the CPR.

And the waves on the monitor begin to slightly jump up and down, a steady beep now echoing from the machine.

I watch as the medics breathe out a long sigh of relief. As soon as they do, I'm crumpled to the floor in a crying fucking mess. Somehow, my prayers got answered. Tara is right next to me as we wrap into a hug, North comes bounding into the room.

"You two shouldn't fucking be in here-" he hisses, sentence trailing off as he witnesses us both sobbing. He hesitantly looks over towards the bed, where the panic has diffused and Elijah is stitching the tube into her side.

"Is Shields going to be alright?" He asks quietly.

I don't know the right answer, so I glance up at the medics to see if any of them heard his question. Elijah, after successfully fitting the tube, removes his gloves and paces over to us.

"You shouldn't have really stayed in here," he sighs before continuing, "but yes. Our main concern now is the blood loss, we believe that's what caused the cardiac arrest.  Can we have access her medical records? We need to know her type." He asks North, calmly as ever.

Just as he opens his mouth to reply, I'm up and off the ground; speaking before he even gets the chance.

"I'm O negative. I can donate to her, take whatever you need." I say urgently, holding out my arms as though he's going to take my fucking blood right here and now.

He raises his eyebrows in surprise at my statement, but appears hesitant as he looks me up and down.

"That's great, but you're injured yourself, Leo. I don't think that's a good idea until we've had you checked for infections, gotten you patched up." He sighs.

He does have a point.

"How long can she last without it?"

He glances over at Nova and the girls before looking back at us, "we can keep her stable for a little while, get the wound patched now she's got the drainage system in place. If you're deemed clear, are you sure you'd be happy to-"

"I'm sure," I interrupt. Elijah nods before gesturing over to the younger medic who was in the chopper with us.

"Marv, take Leo to be checked over with Molly. She's in the next room along," Elijah gestures for him to lead me away. The kid looks terrified of me, probably because of how I was shouting at him.

He hesitantly paces over to the door before glancing over his shoulder, "follow me, Sir."

I take one last look at Nova before hobbling out behind him.

"Marv, is it?" I ask, he nods.

"Yes Sir, that's me." He speaks quietly.

"You don't have to call me Sir, Leo is fine. Kid, I'm sorry for yelling at you in the chopper. I was just really fucking stressed," I sigh, the shame settling in.

"It's alright S- Leo. I understand, I can imagine it's a worry working alongside your girlfriend in this type of field."

What the fuck?

"She's not my girlfriend," I interject quickly. He looks slightly shocked and opens his mouth, but closes it again before a question slips out.

"I'm sorry," he murmurs as we turn into the room next door, scratching his short Afro awkwardly.

"You don't have to apologise, it's a misunderstanding." I shrug, not wanting to make the kid feel any worse than he already does.

"You look pretty damn young to be in this field, how old are you?" I tilt my head as he leads me to a chair.

"I'm nineteen. I'm technically still in my training period," he says quietly.

"Nineteen? You are young, especially to be on a job like this. All things considered, I think you're doing a damn good job," I offer him a crooked smile, which makes his fucking day by the looks of it.

Molly, the middle aged medic from the Falcons, paces over to us as I slump into my chair.

"What do we have here?" She crouches down in front of me, already ripping open the pants around my calf and analysing the gunshots.

"Mr. Agron wants him checked for infection and patched up before he donates blood." Marv informs her. She smacks her lips between her teeth and nods, leaning right in towards my leg and sliding up her glasses.

"Luckily enough, they seem like clean shots. One passed right through, looks like the other just skimmed the side. I can have these cleaned and patched in no time. Any other injuries?" She tilts her head.

I have a fair few on my face from the beatings, but most of them have scabbed over. The other main concern is my hand. I reach it out in front of me, she grimaces.

"You've broken a few knuckles, I can see that already. The best thing to do for that is to avoid moving it as much as possible, keep ice on it. From what I can make out, there's no signs of infection. Do you feel ill at all?"

I shake my head, she sighs in satisfaction and pushes herself up to get her supplies.

Marv also stands up to head out the room until I call him back, he whips around. "Can you please come and tell me if there's any changes with her condition?"

He nods with a small smile before continuing out of the door. I lean back into my chair, glancing around the room until my gaze rests on somebody with a cast wrapped flush around his leg.

He's already staring at me.

"What happened to 'ya, Hendrix? You were captured for a little while." Dylan asks, leaning forward.

"A lot," I mumble, gesturing to his leg, "you?"

"I had my damn kneecap blown out about five minutes into the operation, Shields told me to call a medic, but I braved it out." He chuckles.

He has no idea what he missed.

"Where's the rescued hostages?" I ask.

"They're around somewhere, all alive as far as I know." He shrugs, adjusting himself.

If any good is to come out of that operation, I'm relieved to know that they all made it out of there in one piece. If Nova hadn't been almost killed, it would be complete and utter perfection.

Molly paces back over with her kit and begins tending to the wounds.

There's one final thing that has to be done for it to be deemed successful, one lingering problem that is going to eat us alive until we neutralise it.

Nicholas Shields.