My body moves on instinct, slipping past a journalist and ducking underneath the caution tape. An officer shouts something I ignore, fingertips clawing at my sleeve but not fast enough to catch me. As an afterthought, I manage to think clearly enough to dodge shards of broken glass that would most certainly puncture the thin soles of my flats, but that is the only logic in my head as I rush toward my three heroes.
Noah is shaking violently as he yanks off his helmet, revealing sweat-soaked skin and flushed cheeks. He collapses forward onto all fours, choking down air that’s still fairly thick with smoke. Evan reaches him first, but the second his hands touch Noah, he’s shaken off and practically shoved toward Hale.
Hale, who was dragged from the rubble like a doll. A corpse.
I only vaguely register the fact that I’ve started sobbing. Something wet spills down my cheek as tears cloud my vision, but even when a firefighter from another station lunges toward me to stop me in my tracks, I’m able to sidestep and stumble toward the only three people in the world who matter to me right now.
“Noah!” I scream. “Hale!”
Evan is the first to look up, kneeling over Hale with a medical supply bag already torn open beside him. He shouts something at me, but Hale is his priority for the moment.
At last, I make it to them, skidding over loose gravel and accidentally knocking Noah’s helmet several feet away. Falling to the ground beside him, I reach for him and push back the hair from his forehead.
“Are you okay? Noah? Are you—”
Noah’s answer comes in the form of a wheezing cough. Then, a hoarse, “Lila, what the hell…”
“Help me support his fucking neck, Noah,” snaps Evan behind him.
Noah jolts into action, half-crawling as he turns around to help Evan remove Hale’s helmet.
I let out a fresh sob as Hale’s unconscious, oddly peaceful face is revealed.
“Cap? Are you with me?” Evan asks, unraveling something that looks like an oxygen mask. It’s only then that I realize how darkly scorched the entire left side of Hale’s uniform is.
“Dove right into the blaze to help that woman. Think he got hit with something from the blast,” Noah explains to Evan, nodding his head in the general direction of the civilian that had clung to his waist on the way out. Then, when I start coughing through a smoky sob, he sighs and says, “Lila, gorgeous, you can’t be here.”
“Hale,” is all I manage.
And maybe it’s because I’m being incredibly pathetic, but Noah lets me crawl past him so that I can kneel by Hale’s head. His dark hair is stuck to his forehead with sweat, and even though Evan is protesting my intervention—more fiercely than I’ve heard him speak before—I can’t stop myself from pushing back Hale’s hair and running my fingers across the top of his head.
A low groan rumbles from his throat.
“Hale?” I gasp. “Hale, are you awake? Can you hear me?”
“Fuck, I’m going to be sick,” mumbles Noah. He disappears from my side in a series of clumsy movements, and then I hear retching directly behind me.
Then, eerie silence.
“Christ, he fainted,” mutters Evan, ripping open the front of Hale’s jacket even as he tosses a glance in Noah’s direction.
Over my shoulder, I watch as two medics descend upon Noah’s unconscious form.
And then more are landing upon Hale, speaking in brusque tones and using words I don’t understand.
It’s only when Evan has tugged away enough of Hale’s gear to lift his shirt that I see the problem.There’s a nasty bruise darkening the center of his torso, spreading down toward his left ribcage. It’s horrifying to behold, almost red in the firelight, and it looks like it goes bone deep.
One of the EMTs tries to pull me away. I bark something at him and yank my arm out of his grasp.
“Hale!” I shout. I swear I see his eyes flutter, but someone has grabbed me again and is holding me far enough back that I can’t get close anymore. I fight against the stranger’s hold, ignoring their surprised curses as they’re forced to tighten their grip on me.
All I can do is watch as Evan gently tests the tender skin around Hale’s ribs. My mind runs ahead of itself, reviewing every spare bit of anatomical information I’ve ever absorbed. The heart is on the left side of the body, but what’s down there on the right? Critical organs?
I can barely hear, barely think. I’m vaguely aware that I probably look and sound like a madwoman, sobbing and shrieking in protest as I’m physically prevented from returning to Hale’s side. All I can do is watch from beyond the barrier of the paramedics’ organized circle as they fuss over the captain’s body.
“Honey, you’ve got to stop fighting me,” grunts the person holding me back. “You’re going to hurt yourself. And me, probably.”
Only then do I realize who it is—Rita.
