Midnight River

Pressure

Gemma's pov
Song inspo Pressure by Paramore

It was early, too early when there came a pounding on the door of Soap's quarters. I didn't exactly have my own since I wasn't allowed to return home yet, but I wouldn't have wanted to be anywhere else anyways. I needed something to feel closer to him.

Beans left off my chest at the sound, hurrying under the cot I lay on. I was quick to my feet, either the medical team needed me for something, or maybe there was news of Soap. I was hoping for the latter.

When I opened the door one of my higher ups told me to get dressed and ready to leave immediately. A member of the 141 had been injured and I was to fly out to lead the surgery that could save their life.

I had a thousand questions but fear ran through me, my stomach felt the need to be empty but yet I managed to hurry and dress, throwing things haphazardly into a bag to take with.

As terrified as I was to learn more I knew I needed to move, I needed to get there no matter what. I struggled to keep up with the taller man in front of me, leading the way. My body still ached from the week of training I had with Senna and my mind was still waking up.

I urged the man to give me more details but he could only tell me what he knew; it was Price that was injured, some kind of explosion and while he was stable for the time being things could change whenever and it wasn't safe to bring him back to be treated here.

I felt relief flooded through me when I learned that Soap was okay and instantly felt a bit of guilt. I liked the Captain and would do anything in my power to save him.

But why me? Apparently it was Soap and Ghost that had demanded I be flown out. The team at the hospital was capable but with how tricky of a surgery it would be they refused to let anyone but me lead it. No pressure.

I stopped suddenly when my mind went back to Cadaver. I'd told her that Price and Ghost would be okay and I had been wrong. It was the exact reason I didn't want John promising me anything, the world was cruel and it took people from you whenever it wanted.

Throwing my bag over my shoulder I told my superior that I would be on the runway in a minute and just had to do something quick. He didn't like that but I insisted I would be quick.

I knew my face would give it all away, I had gotten good at hiding my emotions over time but not now. Not with this.

I told her quickly and in between breaths when she answered her door. I told her how John was going to wait there for me and Ghost was already on his way back. I was happy for it, knowing she wouldn't be alone in waiting and that he would be back by the time I arrived in Brazil.

Still, she followed me out to the runway and as I was ushered into the plane I looked back to see her arguing with some soldiers, yelling at them that she was going with whether they liked it or not.

"Senna!" I called out over the planes engines. "I'm gonna bring him back alive, I promise."

Our gazes met and we both knew I couldn't actually promise such a thing. No one could promise anything in life. But I had to. They were all depending on me and the weight on my shoulders continued to grow as I came to realize that more and more.

—
hours later
—

I couldn't see him when I finally arrived. I wanted to. I wanted to make sure he was really okay like they told me. But I knew he would ask me to save Price, he would beg me too.

I was able to make that promise to Senna, but I couldn't make it to John and then not pull through. My hands shook with the fear that I'd let him down, that I'd lose another life. I may not have been a soldier, I'd never been at war, but the ptsd affected us all the same. Not being able to save people, losing them even though I was fighting with all I had to save them. Having to tell their families and friends in some instances. It had taken a toll on me.

If I couldn't save Price, if I had to witness the grief it would bring, I wasn't sure if I could look him in the eye again.

So I ordered those with me to take me straight to Price. I knew there wasn't much time, he'd already been waiting for too long. I could see John after.

The doctors there had helped me to understand a bit more of what happened as they prepped for surgery. When the explosion had gone off a few fragments of metal had sunk into his chest, terribly close to his heart. Any closer and he would have died right there.

I known it had to be bad for them not to want to move him back to base but I hadn't been planning on fucking heart surgery.

As terrified as I was, taking a few deep breaths helped to get my mind straight. I may have been shaking before I entered the room, but once I stepped through those doors my focus took over me.

It took hours and honestly had been a bit dangerous to work through after the long flight but I didn't falter. Off by the smallest distance would kill him.

By the time it was done I was exhausted, physically and mentally. I wanted to cry honestly. But we'd managed. Price was out of danger for now, the fragments removed from his chest. I ordered them to keep him in his induced coma until we returned back to base, he needed time to heal anyways and I didn't want him moving around.

Maybe because I was forming an attachment to the 141, but that had been the hardest surgery for me emotionally. I was invested. Of course I wanted to save all my patients and I was devastated over every loss.

This was different. Usually I was able to hide my emotions well, and even though the surgery had been successful I found my hands returning to a tremble as I rushed outside for fresh air.

It was the middle of the night there and quiet. I grasped the railing of the balcony and fought to steady my breathing.

One of my hands had reached up to clench at my chest when I heard footsteps behind me.

"Gem," I'd know that voice anywhere and it both calmed and frightened me. Frightened me because if it had been him on that operating table I wasn't sure I would have been able to keep it together. If he ever needed my saving would I be able to do it?

"John!" I gasped as I spun to face him, tears finally spilling over onto my cheeks.

My fears didn't matter, I wasn't going to go back and forth anymore. We had both decided and I was going to have to learn to live with it, I had to become stronger.

We each hurried to close the distance and I jumped up into his arms, wrapping my legs around his waist and my arms around his neck.

"You're okay. I'm here." He told me quietly as his grip tightened around me. "I've got you, mo chridhe."

I wasn't sure what the last part meant, but I'd ask another time.

"You're okay." I said to him, not caring about me.

"Aye."

--notes
For those who can't wait "mo chridhe" is "my heart" in  Scottish Gaelic.