Quick was the drive. The trees followed suit. Everything was fast after the long moment it took you to escape Namjoon's mind games. And when you made it, you just couldn't find the brakes to stop.

You ran, pace quick and tedious as you followed the waiter, who you were now sure was anything but a waiter. The path was long and crowded, making you wonder what was so interesting for all these people to gather around. The demure was absent as you forgot the little etiquette you had learned from your mother and fluttered the hem of your dress around, exposing your legs and showing so much skin that it seemed vulgar. Your heels clattered so violently on the sidewalk that you would have frightened people and awakened sleeping children if the moonlight sonata had not muffled the screeching sound.

"You're a snake," your voice reached Namjoon's ears, even though he didn't return your gaze. He stood near the entrance, a few tables from the door. His gaze was fixed on the podium, though it was empty and dimly lit. Reminiscing, evasive. You didn't give him the grace of your gaze either, eyes fixed toward the entrance where you last saw the waiter. "The fact that you change skins every time it suits you reminds me how toxic you are."

Namjoon found it hard to swallow, though he didn't let his discomfort show. His jaw tightened, but the slight smile on his lips betrayed a different expression. "If I were you, I'd watch my steps. One wrong move, and your ankle would be broken, my dear friend." He offered.

Far had the waiter come, almost becoming invisible as he got lost in the crowd. You stood behind the golden fountain, the sound of seeping water mocking the stressful instance. You caught your breaths, or so you liked to believe, and clutched your hands on your knees for dear life, and in time you straightened your figure, a black sedan pulled up in front of you, the passenger window rolled down to reveal the identity of the driver. "Get in, doctor. We've lost so much time."

Fast was the drive, but, oh lord, so very slow. The stillness of the night was unsettling, made you feel inexorable, a prisoner of fate. There was nothing greater than the love of humanity and the sense of aid; after all, you were a doctor who saved unknown souls under the pledge of honor and humanity, to let the man who had lent you his name sigh his last breaths without offering a hand was something you couldn't bring yourself to do, no matter how loathful he was.

Yes, he involved you in some shit you could well do without; yes, he was the new addition for whom you never prayed heaven; yet he was a person who needed your help. A help you felt obligated to provide, an indebted kind of feeling. After all, Taehyung's condition seemed to be crafted by the hands of the friend you loved so much and trusted blindly.

It was only a hunch; nothing was confirmed yet, but you could swear you saw victory in Namjoon's eyes. It didn't take rocket science or a mature knowledge of algebra to figure out that Namjoon was involved in the outcome of the situation you found yourself in, just as he was the reason you became part of this network in the first place but up to which depth, it was still a mystery.

"I need to stop by the clinic to get my tools," you said as you suddenly awoke from the trance you had been in since you got into the vehicle.

How you could trust a stranger after all you had been through was yet another riddle to be solved. You just jumped into the car as if he was a friend you had dinner with last night. You would blame Namjoon, would go so far as to say that his gaze stirred you and made you act out of impulse, but you would later reckon and correct the exaggeration with a more realistic thought: Jungkook never lied. Jungkook was a man of honor; despite the nature of your encounter, he never showed anything but respect.

"I settled that up earlier," he offered, gripping the steering wheel tightly as he waved between traffic smoothly.

His answer was satisfying, calmed your senses to some degree. But then, as it settled deep inside you, you found it even more unsettling. What did he mean by it? And how?

"You broke into my clinic? Who exactly are you? Why haven't I seen you anywhere around before?"

Your heart was already beating fast when you saw the videos Jungkook sent, and the several messages, but the realization and the newfound worry and fear made you feel even more anxious. The questions crowded into your head and stood in a time-sensitive queue that needed to move so you could reach the curiosity switch, but to your disdain, the queue did not move; instead, it grew longer and longer with each second of silence the man offered.

"I said, who the fuck are you? What have you done to my husband?"

"Listen," he began, sensing your overflowing agitation, voice calm and collected, "I'm not the one you should be hurling your accusations at; I'm not the traitor here."

His voice was cold, but it sounded reproving, almost accusatory, and that somehow reassured you about him. He would not lie; he was sent by Jungkook; you liked to think that way. The distress, however, surged again from the stillness of the night, the propinquities, save from the hum of the engine, and the blur of trees that you didn't want to count but found yourself doing so as a mechanism to remain on the saddle of the situation.

The car halted at the entrance, a few feet from the main door of the cabin. The rain had begun to kiss the ground, and the wind played around your lightly clad body. The chill went unnoticed as you closed the door and made your way to the trunk to retrieve your medical paraphernalia. The waiter was at your side in seconds, having mimicked your movements while holding his cell phone to his ear, "We're here; yeah, yeah... I parked far away; will walk to avoid company."

He led you by walking ahead of you when he figured you had already closed the trunk after finding the bag. A grace different from your struggle was evident in his calculated steps while you were fighting the length of your dress and the slippery path. "Who were you talking to? Are we being followed?"

"I don't know," he snorted, "look, let's keep quiet; we don't want any unnecessary attention."

You took the noisy stilettos off your feet to rid yourself of the annoyance and the risk of falling on the floor and held them in one hand while you hurried and used the other to collect his attention by grasping his forearm, "I need to be briefed about his condition, every second is important."

He heaved a sigh as he came to a halt a few steps from the entrance, eyes quickly taking in your wet form and dirty feet. You were barely able to look at him as the rain assaulted your vision with aggressive drops; the heavenly liquid flattened your hair and erased most of the cosmetics you had applied, glistening on every exposed part of your body, leaving goosebumps behind.

"Gunshot," he resumed his march as he searched in his pocket for something; you assumed he was fetching the keys; "heavy blood loss; unconscious as per the last update."

The cabin was the same; soft white spots lit the threshold, welcoming like the warmth that invited victims into the wolf's den. This time, however, you were not greeted by the unknown; the stench of alcohol and cigarettes was absent, too; "Blood type O; we have Jungkook to provide; the bullet is stuck between the third and fourth ribs."

Your ears remained attentive as you stepped inside the familiar room; similar were the surroundings; dark navy blue sheets with matching curtains, all the lights on, making it easier for the eye to catch every hidden detail, introducing a place you didn't miss that much. Karma is such a bitch, you thought to yourself. "Blood pressure's dropping, oxygen saturation as well."

Jungkook's eyes were bloodshot, face dry, but you assumed it was wet seconds before you appeared. His vest was not pulled over his shoulders, which brought to sight his shirt that was stained in red. You brought your hand to cover your mouth as you gasped when your eyes landed on your husband; the action hurriedly hid to maintain ethical behavior. "Are you a doctor?"

"Not for humans," the waiter replied as he rolled up his sleeves and kept his gaze fixed on Taehyung. Jungkook had cut open his shirt, placed a wet towel over his forehead to bring down his fever, and given up the effort to prayers as he held his hand. "I'll help you with what little knowledge I have of human anatomy, but I can't promise much; animals are different in size and, well, in nature, I guess?"

"Save him, Doctor," Jungkook interjected, his eyes confirming your previous suspicions as they shed tears that were momentarily restrained, "this time I'm begging you, not forcing you, but beseeching you."

"You owe me an explanation, which I will demand later, but for now, I will wash my hands while you," you gestured towards the waiter. "Meet Seokjin, doctor," Jungkook interrupted. "Well, Seokjin, you made the bag, so I assume you brought the necessary; find a vein and get us an IV; assess the situation and prepare for anesthesia. After that, we'll take turns; you go wash up, and I'll take over until you get back."

The air was stiff and charged. The wetness of your dress failed to cool the heat of your nerves; everything failed, for that matter. It's been a long time since you've handled such a complicated case; the most you've done lately was a nose job. But Taehyung didn't need a facial correction when you analyzed his face in depth. His face was sculpted to perfection; every line and every feature was a masterpiece carved by the Almighty in a moment of inspiration; he needed a miracle; unfortunately, you were not one.

Jungkook stood outside the room, waiting for the promised result.

"I will do everything I can. Don't worry."

He relied on those futile words. Thought promises would change fate. How foolish. Figured otherwise as he waited in the living room for the second hour without news.

But he still had faith; promised himself not to give up until he touched his friend's cold body with his own hands. He didn't trust you all that much, don't flutter yourself, he just trusted Seokjin would never let you hurt Taehyung, would never let you do half a job without pushing you all the way.

"I can't see it, the bleeding is intense." You yelled.

"The vitals are dropping, Doc, you'd better take the pressure off the artery."

"Call Jungkook, we're out of blood."

You were sweating, keeping that velvety dress moist more than the raindrops that stained it earlier. You didn't want to admit it to Seokjin or the worried Jungkook, but your heart was beating faster than Seokjin and Taehyung combined - poor man, his heart was doing a poor job pumping the blood. There was this kind of trepidation that you had never felt in an operating room, and that was despite having performed many complicated surgeries that included advanced tumor removals.

Jungkook had donated a lot of blood, but the effort seemed futile when you tried to remove the bullet, and the bleeding started all over again. It was a tender point where it was located, evidence that the shooter was sharp and intended to end a life with the act.

Seokjin was your left surgeon, your assistant. He did a good job, but you would pay infinite money to have Jung in his place. The guy might have known how to handle cows, but he wasn't the best when it came to a human's vessel. No blame, the sight wasn't funny.

You, on the other hand, appreciated his knowledge when it came to packing the tools. If you had been unprepared, like the last time you visited the cabin, Taehyung would be a cold corpse right now.

But he was still warm, his pulse drumming against your hands before the machine could beep to keep count. You thanked God that he was still breathing, even if it was with the help of the oxygen bag Seokjin had brought, otherwise, he would have been your first death on the table.

"Jungkook will pass out if we pump him again. We have to find an alternative." Asserted Seokjin.

You would also admit another reason why Jung was better than Seokjin: he never questioned your decisions. You were the doctor in charge, for god's sake, how could he berate your orders? How could he not see that you were running out of options and needed solutions instead of complaining?

You were so close. Fuck; you even had the damn bullet clutched with your bipolar; if it wasn't for the fact that the moment you took the pressure off the zone, blood would have leaked out, you would have thrown it in your kidney dish and called it a day.

"Can you take the lead?" You asked.

Yeah, you weren't a fan of Seokjin's lousy vet job, but you had no choice. Normally you wouldn't admit that he was right in his diagnosis, but damn it, he was right, and you, as much as you hated it, had no choice but to agree.

"Are you kidding me?" Seokjin exclaimed, "Look, I don't want to be a part of your experiment. I know what's going on in your head, but I'm telling you right now that this shit can't happen in real life."

"I'll walk you through it," you began in a calm voice that was at odds with your emotions, "you just have to follow my instructions. You know we have no choice; we can't take him to the hospital, and the blood bank can't deliver to this rural place either." You sighed, still pressing on the wound with your bipolar to stabilize the vessel, "Listen, this is our only chance: either I give him blood, and he survives, or we use Jungkook until we end up with two bodies. You tell me."

In a moment of silence, the HRM beeped frantically, replacing the sound of a thickening bomb that was bound to explode under your nose and reduce the place to ashes. Seokjin refused to take his eyes off your form, and you refused to let your eyes wander past his orbs, which were the only thing visible on his masked face. You both wore goggles with a small medical flashlight in the center, searching for tiny details to examine.

"Fine, but if it goes wrong, it's on you." He pointed a warning index finger at you, and you looked down at your husband in relief. You knew it wasn't the best idea to give up your leadership position to a veterinarian, but you also knew that your patient would die if you didn't give him blood under these critical circumstances. Normally you would wish the worst for him since he forced you into your sham marriage, but you wouldn't let him die between your hands. Therefore, giving him your blood was the only way.

"I'm going to perforate the vein to give you access and will make sure to assist you through every step. Once the vitals are restored, you can proceed with removal and closure." You instructed.

As you lay on the floor, you ignored the knock on the door and your rapid heartbeat. You would have preferred to ignore the HRM, but your professional conscience was more alert than being left in the dark. It's been an hour since Seokjin successfully removed the bullet, but you were still hooked up to your patient with a clear silicone tube and a syringe transferring blood into his body. Fatigue was beginning to fight your lucid state, and sometimes you caught yourself drifting off into slumber had it not been for the unsettling feeling that kept you awake.

The seepage sounded in your ears like a distant melody that kept you awake but also lulled you into a peaceful slumber. You fought the feeling and prompted your head to have a clear view of the bed. Taehyung's breathing was calm and steady, and you wished you could pacify Jungkook's condition as well, to remove the disturbance caused by his endless knocks.

There was a slight pain as Seokjin removed the syringe from your vein and applied alcohol. Nothing major, but you felt it anyway. "I'll bring you some orange juice; try to stay awake for now." He instructed as he covered your body with a warm, fuzzy blanket.

It's not that you didn't hear the click of the door or Jungkook's high-pitched voice as he investigated Seokjin; you simply blocked out the sounds while you did the same and surrendered to slumber. It was only an hour later for you, but the problem was that you couldn't even bring your wrist close to your face to check the time you spent in the same position. The memories of the last few hours were blurry, a mixture of an awake state and robotic actions that you couldn't decipher.

Calm were your breaths as you opened your eyes and tried to gather your strength, contradicting the rapid heartbeat and sweaty palms. A ringing in your ears that you couldn't suppress, and a voice that you thought you wouldn't hear again anytime soon:

"Hello, wife."

A/N

I hope you will like the update; another one is coming right after. Stay tuned.

Votes, comments, and shares are appreciated.

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