“They said,” she chokes, her voice breaking. “They said I wouldn’t get hurt if I just did what I was told.”
The words hit like a gut punch. My jaw locks. The previous possible escapee, the unidentified one that Liv and I worked on together the first time. She’d said something similar, almost identical.
Compliance didn’t protect either of them. It just delayed the damage.
Liv doesn’t react outwardly, not the way I do, and I’m sure it’s entirely from sheer willpower. Her hands don’t falter as she checks vitals, as she adjusts the blanket around the girl’s shoulders, as she keeps her voice steady and low.
“I know,” she says gently. “I know. But you’re out now. You did the right thing.”
The girl shakes her head weakly, tears mixing with the dirt on her face.
“I wasn’t supposed to run,” she whispers. “They said-” Her voice fractures.
Liv leans in slightly, not crowding her, just enough to keep her anchored. “You got away,” she reminds her. “That’s what matters.”
Scott glances over his shoulder at me, something tight in his expression. He’s seen enough of these to know what this means. So have I, but this one feels different. Because as the girl shifts, as the light catches her face just right, the resemblance is there again.
She looks so much like Liv.
“Vitals are unstable,” Scott says quietly. “We need to move.”
Liv nods. “Okay. Easy. We’re going to get you fully onto the gurney, alright?” she tells the girl.
But she hesitates. Her eyes flick from the gurney, past Liv, toward me. And panic spikes again.
“No- No, he can’t- he can’t-”
“I’m not coming closer,” I say immediately, keeping my voice low and controlled. “I’m staying right here.”
She stares at me like she’s trying to decide if that’s true.
Liv doesn’t look back at me this time. “Just focus on me,” she tells her gently. “Okay? Just me.”
The girl nods, barely.
Between Liv and Scott, they guide her fully onto the gurney, securing her carefully, every movement deliberate, professional, and efficient.
I watch Liv work, really watch her. The way her hands move without hesitation. The way her voice never wavers, even when the girl starts shaking again, and even when her breathing turns uneven and sharp. The way she absorbs the fear directed at her without letting it stick. She’s not treating injuries; she’s holding the line between panic and survival.
And she makes it look effortless. It’s not, I know it’s not.
“Let’s go,” Scott says once they’re set.
They start moving toward the rig. Liv glances up then, and our eyes meet. For a second, everything else drops away. There’s something there. She sees it, and I see it in her too.
The time for keeping us apart, for trying to pretend like I don’t need to be directly in her vicinity is over. It’s time to stop pretending I can stay away. I need to be there, not just to monitor the woman, but to be near Liv. Fuck what Captain Grant said, I won’t stay away from her.
Right now, there needs to be someone else besides medical with this woman for transport. Someone who can see things EMS won’t, and vice versa.
A quick glance to my side, at Mason, tells me we’re thinking the same thing. Time to split up.
He heads over to the uniforms to process the scene while I make my way to the rig, making sure to stay out of the girl’s view.
As Liv and Scott get the gurney loaded headfirst into the ambulance, I slip in quietly through the side door.
Liv’s eyes meet mine again as she climbs in through the back, not leaving them as she takes a seat beside the head of the gurney. The doors slam shut before Scott makes his way to the driver’s seat and climbs in.
And we’re off, heading for the hospital while I get as much information from the patient, through Liv’s interactions, as I can while staying as quiet as a church mouse.
