Hell's Angel: Devil's Backbone (BK 2)

How to Save a Life

Alison's POV
(bellamysgirl)

My cheeks were still wet, my eyes threatening to spill over with a sharp ache in my chest, but I pushed through. We arrived at wherever in the world S.H.I.E.L.D.'s base of operations was not too long after leaving the roof in Hell's Kitchen. On the way, I was in charge of making sure Dani didn't die. It'd be daunted to anyone else. But, thankfully for me, I knew what I was doing. My hands still pressed a rag to the incision in Dani's side when we got there.

"Get her to medical," Coulson said, as other agents filed in the parked plane. "Do it quick. Where's Simmons?" He went to talk to a tall, lanky, blonde agent by the entrance to the plane. Mack and Matt did most of the lifting as a couple other agents brought in a gurney of sorts. "Careful," I kept the rag pressed to Dani as they lifted her, then eased her onto the gurney. "Keep her on her side."

Mack stepped back but Matt stayed fairly close as we got moving, following us deeper into the building down a hall. "Can you tell us what happened to her?" one of the agents rolling the gurney asked. I couldn't tell if he was medical personnel or not but, guessing by his question, I assumed he was. "Two stab wounds—swords—one through the back and one through the chest," I explained, my voice shaking. "There's bleeding in the right lung, but that's all I know."

"Alright. We'll take it from here."

Another agent slid into my position to hold the rag as I reluctantly stepped back. They continued on as I stopped walking, Matt slowing to a hesitant stop beside me. I glanced up at him. Somehow he'd managed to get his mask back on before S.H.I.E.L.D. arrived without me noticing. When did that happen? Maybe he's a ninja. My eyes shifted back to the hallway. They'd rolled out of sight now, around a corner. I felt a hand on my shoulder.

"She'll be fine," Matt said, mostly talking to himself. "She's come back from worse. You did good, Alison." I shrugged off his hand, sidestepping, and mildly glared at him. He adjusted his position with a head tilt, his face aimed in my direction. He was confused. Really? He doesn't know? "Don't," was all I could say. I turned and started back up the hallway. I was almost there. Just a couple more feet and I'd be back in the hanger, where Coulson was still talking to his team. And then it hit me.

This didn't feel like that. It felt like relief. It felt like home. I pulled back and rested my forehead against his. Immediately my lips longed for more, pleading. But I held it back as best as I could. I let my shoulders relax, keeping my eyes closed a moment longer. I inhaled to breathe him in. There was antiseptic and that infamous twang of hospital soap, but there was still an ounce of gun powder lingering on his skin.

"No matter what happens after this," he started, causing me to finally open my eyes. His gaze was already locked on mine. I swallowed, and he continued, "I don't care what I have to do. I'm coming home to you." If you survive the trial. That thought brought tears up to brim my eyes, threatening to spill over vibrantly. Why did I have to think that? Sometimes I hate my brain.

I sniffled hard. "You better."

Tears were falling before the memory even ended. But it didn't actually end. It just looped around and played again, refusing to let up, followed by a hundred other memories trapped inside my brain. My chest physically ached as my heart sank. It was a struggle to catch my breath. My feet couldn't go any farther, and I couldn't force them. I stopped mid hall as my knees started to buckle, causing me to drop.

I reached my hand out to catch myself before I fell. But it only stopped me for a second before I dropped the rest of the way, sitting on the floor. I couldn't take it anymore. I pulled my knees up to my chest as the tears turned into small sobs, absentmindedly rocking a bit.