"Absolutely Not."

Chapter 42: Visiting Hours

(Simon's POV)

I'd never been so bloody terrified.

Of all the countless missions I'd been on and injuries I'd sustained or after all the men I'd lost on the field, seeing her with blood soaking her hands with no color left in her face...

Terrified me. There was no other word for it.

As I had carried her over my shoulder to the helicopter, I didn't care if any of my clothing absorbed any of her blood. So long as she survived, I didn't care what happened to me.

It wasn't until Gaz and I had her situated with the medic in the helicopter, Soap trailing us minutes afterward, that we deduced the extent of her injuries.

Bumps, bruises, and scrapes decorated her body from what I could see, and I worried about what lay beneath her clothing. They'd taken her vest, boots, and equipment, leaving her seem more like a captured civilian and not a bloodthirsty soldier.

And her finger. Fuck. Her finger.

It was one thing to have myself get injured, it was another to see one of my men hurt, let alone someone I cared about.

This was Kelsey, though.

Keeping my stoicism composed, reining in what collectedness I could despite being scared shitless, I assisted in what I could in my meager amount of knowledge pertaining to medicine; I at least could tie a proper tourniquet pretty well. I just hated how the device would just add to her collection of abuse.

With that done and Jack already wrapping her bleeding hand so that we could prevent any more damage, I muttered lowly to Kelsey, coaxing her to wake the fuck up.

The sound of someone's struggling caught my attention in the midst of trying to get Kelsey conscious, and I looked over at Johnny who had happened to take it upon himself to steal one of the Shadows. He'd sat himself in one of the seats after throwing the poor soul onto the ground, zip-tied and weaponless.

"Retribution," was all he said, and he gave a curt nod towards the other situation at hand, the more severe situation.

Silently, as the anxiety ate away at my gut as the adrenaline began to ebb away, I watched as the medic made quick work in subduing the bleeding as much as he could, but there was only so much we could do on a goddamn aircraft.

With her finger gone, she was going to need surgery, and from the looks of her current appearance, probably a blood transfusion. At least.

I wanted to scream at her until she woke up for leaving without care or telling me goodbye, but I, unfortunately, understood where she was coming from.

A pair of hazel, half-lidded eyes peered over at me, and I hadn't really expected her to wake up. However, I wasn't about to complain about it.

Obviously groggy from blood loss, and from how one of her pupils was dilated due to some sort of concussion, she still spoke before I had the chance.

I almost laughed when she asked about the new mask. It was the trait of hers, that damn ability to utilize humor in the worst situations, that caused me to fall for her in the first place.

But when those heart-stopping eyes of hers rolled to the back of her head again, everything stopped and panic ensued.

I couldn't remember what I'd said to her, but it didn't matter; it didn't help in keeping her awake.

There was a collective scramble and all of us yelling at each other when Kelsey's body slumped, and if I hadn't been holding onto either side of her head, she probably would have keeled over.