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WHEN STEVE FINALLY RETURNED, THE EMTS WERE LOADING FURY INTO THE BACK OF AN AMBULANCE. The woman, who Alex had learned was actually called Sharon, accompanied him and left Alex and Steve to follow behind. Alex had several reservations about ever riding a motorcycle, but at that moment in time, she didn't care. With her bag still on her shoulder, she swung her leg over the back of Steve's bike and held on to him as if her life depended on it. In a twisted sense, it did.
Once at the hospital, they were directed towards the operating theatre Nick was in. Alex wasn't sure if she was thankful that they were able to watch through a window as a dozen surgeons attended to his injuries. Alex didn't care about the bloodied gauze they kept swapping out or the occasional glimpse of internal organs. She was fixed on watching the heart monitor. That steady spike and fall of his heartbeat.
It wasn't until Alex went to chew on a chipped nail that she realised her hands were still covered in his blood. She froze, took a moment to stop herself from throwing up and turned to Steve. In the way, a child fearful of being scolded approaches the babysitter they promised to behave for.
"I need to go wash my hands. I'll be back," she stated quietly before taking off in an almost-powerwalk.
In the ladies restroom, Alex lathered as much soap as she could hold in her hand against the rust-coloured stains on her fingers and palms. She watched as it swirled away in crimson ribbons down the drain. The smell of copper rose to meet her and made her nauseous all over again.
When she returned to Steve, Maria was gone, but Nat had arrived. There was a solemn cloud that hung in the air between them all.
"Is he gonna make it?" Nat questioned frantically as she watched, wide-eyed.
"I don't know," Steve admitted quietly. After a beat of silence, Nat spoke up again, surprising Steve and Alex.
"Tell me about the shooter."
"He's fast. Strong... Had a metal arm," the broad-shouldered blonde replied almost immediately and Alex wasn't comforted by the colour leaving Nat's face. Maria returned and the four of them stood shoulder to shoulder, watching their boss on the operating table. For Alex, it seemed like a sick, twisted nightmare. Any minute now she'd wake up in her apartment.
No matter how many times she pinched herself, she didn't wake up.
"Ballistics?" the redhead to Alex's left questioned, gaze unwavering from the busy operating room.
"Three slugs, no rifling. Completely untraceable," Maria informed them and Alex swallowed thickly.
"Soviet-made," Nat stated quietly. Their attention was brought back to the surgeons as they began pointing to the monitors and talking indistinctly over the top of one another. Alex's heart pushed itself into her throat. She tried her hardest to keep her breathing even and slow. The last thing she wanted - or needed - was a panic attack.
