Thomas could see the moment when it hit her, his sweet wife. Lauren's face went sheet-white and for the first time, it looked like she might burst into tears. While the panic room was a life-saver in one way, if he bled out in here because there was no way for medical help to reach them, Lauren would be cradling a corpse for however many hours were left.
Then she pressed her lips firmly together and yanked open the medical kit, grabbing a package of gauze before turning back to Thomas. "Do you think you can make it to the couch?" she asked, trying to get his jacket and shirt undone at the same time.
"I don't... believe so," he managed, and the girl looked up, terrified. Thomas was deadly pale, cold sweat dotting his forehead and lips compressed with pain. Nodding rapidly, Lauren finally got his blasted shirt open and looked for the wound.Fuuuuck!she moaned internally. Even her sketchy knowledge of human anatomy could recognize the bullet tore somewhere through his rib cage and possibly nailed his lung. Putting the big wad of gauze on the bloody hole, Lauren forced a smile. "Sweetheart I have to roll you - just a bit - but I have to see if there's an exit wound, okay?"
Her husband gallantly attempted to roll himself but fell back. To her terror, the red spot on the white gauze was widening and she swallowed a sob. Moving him to his side as gently as she could, Lauren felt desperately for a matching wound and found it. "Th- that's good. Okay, we can work with that," she was babbling a little, but she couldn't seem to stop trying to make reassuring sounding words that would ease Thomas's torment. Ripping off the top of the package of antiseptic spray, she squirted it liberally over his back and into the bullet hole, cringing at her husband's stifled moan of agony. Packing more gauze over the spot, the girl gingerly rolled him again.
"So, you know the funny thing here, sweetheart?" Lauren wasn't quite crying, but she quickly wiped her eyes before Thomas caught her. "So..." she continued, holding the bloody gauze with one hand while searching for an item in the first aid kit with the other. "The funny thing is that your exit wound is like, right by your stab wound, but just above the kidney. You have the luckiest kidneys in the whole world! Really, I mean..." yep, she was babbling again. But her patient's attention was suddenly directed at the door as something heavy slammed against it.
"Darling," he groaned, "please go over to the communications board and press the two red buttons. One s- ah! Fuck!" Sweat dripped down Thomas's face as he gritted his teeth. He didn't completely remember how painful his half-brother's stab wound was, but he'd certainly taken a vicious beating or two before rising in the ranks at the Corporation. Nothing-nothinghad ever felt like this, like his chest was on fire, like a fist had a grip on his lungs and was twisting them casually.
"Go on," Lauren was clenching her teeth, but he felt a rush of love at her effort to be strong for him. "Who am I contacting?"
She was already crawling over to the section of the wall devoted to lights and buttons and video screens. Flicking them on, she could see that Chuck was standing over the man collapsed just outside the door of the safe room.That must have been the other shooter guy.Lauren nodded disjointedly and punched the button for the Corporation and searched for a phone. There was a keypad set into the glass front, so she started to dial Chuck's number until she realized she didn't know it. It was stored in her contacts, for fuck's sake! And her phone was somewhere on the floor in the entryway, likely smashed by a lot of angry feet. Scampering back to Thomas, Lauren put her lips against his cheek, chilly with sweat. "Sweetheart? Thomas? Please open your eyes, okay? Chuck is just outside the panic room; it looks like he killed the bad guys. He's waving his arms at the camera. Is there a speaker to talk to him?"
Opening his eyes with some effort, he tried to breathe more shallowly. "Just call him, darling."
"I don't remember his phone number!" Lauren wailed.
Thomas panted out, "020 7946 0430."
"Wha-? How do you remember stuff like that?" she gasped, leaning down to lift his head a bit higher. "Never mind, okay, okay, um... I'm calling him and then he's going to get a goddamn doctor on the phone for us, okay?"
"Language..." he grumbled.
"Chuck!" Lauren had him on speaker as she was putting more gauze on Thomas's chest. "He's been shot in the chest - just over his left kidney - we need a doctor!"
"Miss Lauren." She almost wept at Chuck's calm, emotionless voice. "Everything will be all right; you must be very brave. I know you can do this. Are you packing the wound?"
"Y-yes," she sniffled, suddenly feeling like a child who knew that Dad just got home and everything would be all right. She'd never really had that feeling with Frank, but she was sure this was the right description.
"Very good, you're doing well. I'm patching in a doctor and we'll walk through this. There should be a small camera on one of the shelves there. Is Mr. Williams stabilized enough for you to get it?"
Lauren looked down. Thomas's eyes were closed and his breathing was rapid. "Sweetheart? Thomas?" He just opened his eyes enough to squint, and she sagged in relief. "I've got to get the camera so the doctor can look at your wound. Don't move, okay?"
Even knowing that was the stupidest possible thing she could say, Lauren ignored the small curl of his lips as he whispered "Fine..."
Suddenly, there was also the calm voice of a doctor looking at the images she was sending and asking questions and then instructing her and then things weren't quite so terrifying.Still terrifying as fuck,Lauren thought feverishly,but I won't let Thomas die.
When Lauren finally even thought to search for the time, the red digital readout on the control board told her four hours had passed since she'd dragged her bleeding spouse through the door of the safe room. She'd gotten a small dose of pain meds through the unwilling lips of Thomas and carefully cleaned him up and sterilized as much as possible. With the doctor's precise instruction, she'd used the suture gun, which she could tell put her poor husband through even more suffering. But there was no way her hand was steady enough to try stitches. Laying down next to him and turning on her side, Lauren smiled as she ran her hand over his cheek. "We have the worst wedding nights ever. I don't think we should get married anymore."
He smiled briefly, but a look at her bloody wedding gown made his expression turn sorrowful. "Your pretty dress..." Thomas mourned.
"It's just a dress," Lauren shook her head. "Just a dress." Looking down, her heart stuttered as another bloom of red spread over the gauze on his chest. "But you have to breathe slowly for me, okay?"
"Mmmmm." It sounded like an agreement, and his lids fluttered shut. Absently admiring his unfairly thick lashes, she stroked his hair back.
"You asked me once how many people I've killed..." he murmured at one point.
"I don't need to know that, Thomas." Lauren was so terrified of missing a single breath that she was nearly nose to nose with her patient. She thought about it. "Do you regret any of them?"
"Hmmm..." he groaned, taking in a deeper breath, "No." His eyes opened, and she nearly drowned in the beauty of them- clear, like the pond near her grandfather's cabin where she'd swam every summer, leaping from the dock so her toes would touch the sand on the lake bed. His eyes were like that, clear blue where she could surely dive to the bottom of him.
"Every one of them deserved it, Lauren. I don't take a life carelessly. They were monsters. Every one of them."
"Do you see their faces? When you dream?"
Thomas gave a weak chuckle, and she sucked in a breath as some blood decorated his lower lip. "Never. I slept with the rest of an untroubled conscience. Until you, of course."
