"Shh." Andi moved into him, head turned to watch what was going on inside the OR. Attention focused. If she was
guessing she would say that the shock to Clancy's body was finally too much and his system was rebelling against it.
She'd had it happen while she'd been operating before. Those brief minutes when everything tried to shut down and
your patient either went or fought their way back while you frantically tried to keep them with you. There was a reason
they didn't let family and friends into the operating rooms. But it didn't occur to her to try to turn Hector away from his
post at the door.
One arm around him, the other hand over his heart, she murmured: "System shock. His body's tired of fighting." Mike's
voice, too distant to hear distinctly, was low and steady. And talking directly to the patient on the table in front of him
as he worked with sure movements. Andi's lips pressed together and she found herself whispering. "Just a minute
more. Hold on a minute more."
Hector wanted to move, he really did. Away from here where he didn't have to watch this and hold his breath. This
wasn't part of his daily life, sure people died in his chalk, they got shot up and tore up, but watching them fight on an
operating table, not sure if they'd pull through or not, and watch that....no. This would be the first time and it seemed
to him that was one thing he never wanted to see again.
The guilt was overwhelming. She was right, he'd trade places in a moment if given the choice. The feeling that it
should have been him was there, heavy on his mind And it was really only her presence and her hands on him that
kept him centered as he remembered to breath.
Andi's dark eyes moved in a constant scan. Reading from the movements inside the building and the sounds of the
monitors what she wasn't close enough to hear for fact. Mike was the best and his team never faltered or panicked.
But Clancy was standing right on the edge of the divide. Mike never wavered, low voice conversational as his team
swarmed around him, providing what he needed before he had to ask for it.
And then Clancy went into arrest.
It was obvious the second it happened. Both in the soldier's body and the reaction of the people working on him. She
shifted against Hector, nudging him to turn.
"Don't watch." She warned softly. But she did. Breath held, jaw locked. Whispering words that matched the movements
of Mike's lips as he worked.
"Come on. Come on."
Clancy's body jerked and Mike snapped something at him that sounded indistinctly like a foul name. And the monitors
picked up again, registering vitals with their distant beeps. Mike's invectives didn't die down but his motions were as
steady and sure as ever. Andi remembered to breath, short and shallow.
It wasn't over. Not yet...
"Still here." Andi murmured and whether she was talking about Clancy, Hector or herself was indistinct. She looked up
at Hector then. Seeing his face. His dark eyes. Her own searched his face.
"I can come find you when its finished." She stated quietly.
"We don't leave any man behind." He said, almost automatically as his eyes were fixed into the tent. He had
remembered to breath at this point, but not to blink. As if he thought if he blinked, he'd miss something. Everything
always happened so fast. In both their lines of work it seemed.
One shot, one bullet changes everything. Every blip on the heart monitor in the OR tent directed the next moment, the
next moment directed the next blip and the next beat.
"No one gets left behind."
Andi watched him watching inside the tent. As if he was standing guard at the door the same way he'd stood guard
nights before over his hurt friends. She looked back at the operating table inside. Mike had stopped swearing at
Clancy and was now working in silence again. Movements calm and quick. Moving to keep ahead of a body that knew
shutting down would be easier.
Mark had joined them at some point. Andi hadn't noticed when. And he was staring into the tent as well, face
expressionless and tight, leaning heavily on his crutch but she didn't think to suggest he sit down somewhere. Mike
continued to work.
"They're wrapping up." She murmured after a while, recognizing the signs. Mike had apparently decided, done or not
and she couldn't tell, that Clancy's body had taken all it would. Whether they'd have to go back in or not, she couldn't
tell from here. But if Mike was starting to close up then it meant he'd pushed it as far as he could.
Hector finally exhaled. Fully exhaled, and for the moment it felt good. "I take it he's still not stabilized." He said,
assuming, since the guy had just coded on the table.
"Sam'll love that." Mark commented, but not commenting on anything else he had seen, like the positioning of his
fellow Delta and a certain doctor. "I nominate you to handle it, you're the uninjured one who's still packing."
The shaky joke was still a joke in her book and Andi managed a weak smile. Her colleagues used humor in the same
way. Because, sometimes, all you could handle was distraction.
"No." She answered Hector's question. "But he's still breathing." She let out a breath of her own. It was one thing to be
in there, working. The stress was impossible but you hit a level where everything else just went away and there were
no distractions, no 'could be's', no moment beyond the one you were working in. Standing outside, watching, was so
much harder.
"We can ask Mike, once he's scrubbed and taken some time to come back down." Find out if Clancy would need to go
under again or not for instance. Sam wasn't going to be happy. But he wasn't going to be surprised either. If they'd
said they couldn't risk moving Clancy it was because he'd really been that bad to start off. The team inside was taking
care of cleanup now and Andi was suddenly aware of where she was standing. Or rather how she was standing. Her
long fingers spread fractionally against Hector's chest and she drew in a breath.
The man lying on the table in the OR right now was all she had to see to know what her future looked like if she let
herself care for Hector in any way.
"Come on" She stepped away slightly. "Let me treat you both to something to drink." Her mouth at least was dry as
bone dust. And it would give them all some time before Mike had to track them down to fill them in on what was next.
"I'm gonna go lay back down." Mark said, just watching all that having completely worn him out, and he felt a whole hell
of a lot more grateful for his current state than he had before. "Think I'll write my mom too."
"Take care buddy." Hector said automatically as he and Andi headed to the mess tent. "Please tell me you have
something stronger than water."
Andi kept half an eye on Mark until they were out of sight. Feeling a bit worn out herself. She looked over at the man
next to her and gave a brief smile.
"Sweet tea?" She suggested. Teasing. But she took a detour, heading for one of the supply tents instead. Stepping in,
she went to the back and opened one of the ice chests, moving several boxes to the side. Pulled out a beer and a
coke and offered them. "Secret stash." She commented, with a quiet smile. "If you claim you've seen them, we'll
disavow any knowledge of it. You want something harder, you'll have to wait for Mike. And you'll probably both have to
do a raid on Sam's tent for the last batch he confiscated."
It wasn't that drinking was exactly against the rules. Just that - well, when you considered how Sam had gotten his
attention called to the alcohol in the first place, it was probably just as well he'd taken away the few bottles that were
left. Not everyone came here to work themselves to the bone for minimal pay after all.
She shut the lid and then turned around to face Hector, stepping close to gently touch his cheek with her finger tips.
"You all right?" She asked softly, dark eyes worried. Wasn't every day you had to see someone else up to their elbows
in your friend's blood. She really shouldn't have let him stay for that.
He was about to give the automatic sure I'm fine answer. It was pat, patented, and probably fully expected. But he took
the beer, twisted the top off and took a long swig, really needing it. And he wasn't a big drinker.
"No." He admitted, shaking his head as he sat on one of the sturdier boxes. "I'm really not." He shook his head again
and chuckled, but it wasn't with any humor. "Believe it or not, I'm not a big fan of blood and gore. I just...I don't know..."
He didn't even know what he wanted to say. He just knew that he felt as torn up as Clancy's body right about now. It
was starting to hit him that his friend might not make it out of Africa.
She did the operating. So she wasn't usually the one that stood on the outside and worried about a friend or loved
one. No matter how much she cared for her patients, it didn't amount to an iota compared to what the ones that had
known them as friends cared.
Silently, holding the coke, she moved over and sat down next to him. Shifting so they were thigh to thigh and shoulder
to shoulder. He'd seen. He knew how serious Clancy was. She wanted to tell him the worse was over. That it was
simply uphill from here. Except she couldn't. Even if they didn't have to operate again, and she didn't know if Mike
would or not, his body still had to get over the shock of what they'd just done to it. She'd seen too many people simply
slip off during the night to be blindly optimistic.
"I'm sorry." She whispered it, turning her face to rest her chin against the side of his shoulder. "Knowing this could
happen doesn't make it any easier when it does." Having had it happen before probably didn't make it any easier. His
government, any government, knew how to train their soldiers to kill. To formulate strategies. To think in
contingencies. But she didn't think any of them could train their men to cope with something like this. Losing someone.
That was something everyone had to learn to walk through by themselves.
"Will you tell me about him?" She asked softly.
"He's the best shot in our chalk." Hector started, and held up his hand before she could correct him and tell him what
she wanted to hear about Clancy. It was just his way of starting. "I don't know how much you know about the US, but
he's from Colorado, an old mining rural town actually in the mountains. We call him Cowboy, you know, after the
stories of the Old West and all." Hector stopped to drink a bit more of his beer. "His father took him out hunting as
soon as he was able to walk without shooting himself in the foot. He told us these stories...we're still not sure they're
true...of hanging upside down out of a deer stand in a tree and hitting a running bear at twenty paces." Hector
chuckled a bit there.
"Wendy...his fiancee..she's a good woman. They met in daycare. She actually dated his brother until he came home
on leave one day, and well, the brother doesn't mind. He's dating her cousin now. I'm serious! Small town, smaller than
mine I think. She's not going to take this well." Hector said. "He loved her so much..." Then he paled and took another
drink as he realized he had just referred to Clancy in the past tense.
She didn't interrupt. Had no intention of doing so. She'd asked so Hector could talk. Hoping it would help a bit.
"He sounds as if he has a great deal worth fighting for." She responded softly, pretending she hadn't noticed the
stumble at the end of the story. Clancy was by no means free and clear yet. But he wasn't gone either. And she'd
seen people who had no excuse to still be breathing, live anyway. Sometimes you couldn't fight the pull. But
sometimes you could. She thought of Mark, writing to his mother because it was someone to reach out to. And
wondered who would be telling Clancy's family about him, no matter which way things went now.
"You can sit with him tonight if you'd like." She told Hector gently. If Clancy passed in the night - she didn't know if it
would be better or worse for Hector to be there. If Clancy stayed... she thought Hector might want to be there, which
ever happened. The least she could do was give him the choice.
Hector nodded. As a post op patient he wouldn't be in the same tent as everyone else, too great a risk for infection.
Even he knew that. And that was good, because he didn't feel like entertaining anyone tonight, as he was bound to be
expected to if he went to the main tent.
He chuckled a little as he finished his beer. "So why are you so nice to me anyway?" He asked her, trying to force
himself out of his melancholy depressed mood.
She lifted her chin from his shoulder. Oh. She wasn't sure she was ready for a question like that.
"I'm hoping for the angel label instead of you deciding I'm a devil." she told him solemnly, not having forgotten the hot
sauce conversation. Then her face softened. Gentle, she reached out and smoothed the dark hair to the side of his
forehead. Watching his face. Knowing all the things she should say.
"You make my heart feel deeper." She lifted her eyes to his when she murmured it, lips curving in an almost apologetic
hint of a soft smile.
"Well, that's good. I think." He said, not quite sure how to take that one. "Is deeper good? And you are definitely
earning your angel wings. Probably were long before I came around to judge, but I can say for sure that you are now."
The thought came into his head that they should probably move from the dim isolated tent, and that he should
probably stop drinking alcohol. Sure, it would take more than one beer to get him drunk, but she didn't know that. In
fact, he could probably tell her the beer impaired his judgement, because if they didn't get out of here, he was sure to
kiss her again.
"But I'll take deeper." He said with a hint of a smile, even through out the events of the afternoon. "Mine feels lighter."
"Yeah?" The smile was soft and sudden and bright in response to his last sentence. The hand that had brushed his
hair aside slipped down to rest against his heart. "Good." She might not be sure of what she was doing. Or where she
was going. If she was going anywhere at all for that matter. But - things felt - right when he was here. She rested her
chin against his shoulder again and gave him a soft smile. "I'm glad then. And yeah," she murmured it. "Deep is good."
She lifted her eyes to his dark ones. Whispered: "It means I don't have to hide." Which might not have made actual
sense. But she thought he might understand anyway.
He reached over and caressed the side of her face with his hand as she rested her chin on his shoulder. He didn't
know what the hell he was doing, or w here he was going with this, all he knew was he really liked this particular road.
He felt....safe. And as insecure as his world was (occupational hazard, really) that was a rare feeling indeed.
"If we don't get out of here," he warned. "I'm going to kiss you again." He said, putting the ball in her court.
Her eyes had closed at his touch and they opened again as he spoke. And her heart gave an unsteady jerk. At the
words themselves. But also at the way his voice sounded when he said them and the look in his dark eyes when her
own met his.
And she knew she should run. It was simple logic. She couldn't expect anything from him. He'd be leaving in a few
days and it was very likely she'd never see him again. There was no place in her future plans for soldiers. She didn't
even know how far or where she wanted this to go. So she needed to stop pretending she didn't realize what was
going on.
And put a stop to it. While it was still sweet and kind and no one was hurt.
Slow her fingers shifted away from his heart. Slipped up to lightly rest their tips against the side of his throat. Her eyes,
which had never left his, searched now. And the edges of her lips shifted upward. Vulnerable but sure.
"Promise?" She whispered.