It's in You to Give (Queen of the South)

It's in you to give!

Teresa had helped Pote get wounded James onto the back seat of the Escalade and had pulled him to lie down on her lap as the confidence with which he had stumbled out of his car was gone. He was in a half conscious daze now, sweating, and woozy, but still trying to sit up as if holding his own now or the blood on the white leather of the SUV mattered.

He cursed through his teeth, and she knew the pain was sharp and substantial. She remembered it from the time she had been shot in the leg and could only cringe at the thought of it in the abdomen.

A second after the car had lunged forward, he grunted as he lost the grip and the pressure on the spot where his middle section was bleeding and she could see his head rock to the side. His adrenaline was not helping him anymore; it had ensured he had reached them without fainting, but now the blood loss was taking over.

She knew he could have vital organs hit, she had read that a gut wound most times was fatal, and if not the loss of blood could take the person out in about 20 minutes.

His forehead was clammy to the touch, his breathing ragged; she could say the pain was excruciating and he was making an effort to stay awake and losing the fight. She pressed her hands on top of his over the wound and hoped the pressure was right as she had no clue how hard was ok: this was his abdomen, not her leg.

Time had stopped... or was crawling. The drive to the safe house was 20 minutes and her mind screamed that James may not have 20 minutes. But she was sure Pote would get there faster! He knew what was at stake!

She started praying to Malverde that Fate didn't take him away, she could feel her lips moving and knew he could see her. He looked listless but had not blacked out. She kept pressing the her hands over his and murmured in his face: "Stay with me, we are almost there, please stay with me!"

His gaze became glossy, and his whiskey eyes seemed so dark one could say they were black.

At this instance Teresa realized he was slipping away from her. Cold terror and panic gripped her entire being. Why were they moving so slow?

Then they both jumped forward as Pote swerved and she realized he was actually speeding. Her heart blipped again in the hope that they'd make it on time. So would the doctor! The doctor would be at the safe house, the room would be ready! He lived very close, way closer than the warehouse they were coming from.

She needed to talk to James, to keep him awake! Then she felt him start to shiver and his teeth chatter.

"You're cold", she blurted out and touched his forehead with the back of her hand, trying not to smear more blood on him, while still pressing her other hand on his.

Her heart jumped to her throat as he grunted, trying to speak through the pain emanating from his insides: "It won't be much longer..." he wheezed.

"Don't say this! You can't do this to me, James! Don't do this to me, please!" her mind flashed her an image of him, running off into the shootout at the Galveston port when she had again urged him in the same desperate way not to 'do it". "I can't lose you, please stay with me!" she kept repeating.

She had the faintest feeling that he had squeezed or had tried to squeeze her fingers, but then it seemed to her that he hadn't moved his hands that were pressing on the wound. Their eyes met for a brief second and then she lost them as his couldn't stay focused, she said: "Who's after me? Please talk, stay with me! No me dejes, mi amor, no me dejes, por favor, habla conmigo". She didn't really care who was after her, if they were coming right now or later. All she cared about was him not blacking out until they got to the house.

Guero had died twice in her life, but she hadn't seen any of these times. This time, as James was losing consciousness in her arms, she felt the cruelty of the loss with force she didn't think was possible.