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No. 2473
I've put some thought into where I want to go with this fic, and I've decided to branch it out past just Solly/Engie pretty soon. Also, for those hoping something romantic might develop between the two, you probably won't find it here (although that doesn't mean something separate couldn't be written in the future with some fluffy Solly/Engie in it :3). I'd also like to call out Kilo for providing such incredible art (and a great fic as well) that made me a Solly/Engie believer (and I highly doubt I'd be writing this if it wasn't his/her works). Anyway, enough of this. Also, if you're curious, this update still maintains continuity with the previous; everything will have light shed on them in time. Enjoy. : )
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Every muscle he could recognize in his body was clenching, tightening. Gritting his teeth. Digging his nails as deeply into the mattress as he could. He was doing anything he could think of to exert concentration from the pain.
"Nnngggg." Little more than guttural grunts and moans escaped Engineer's mouth as he lie shirtless on his stomach. Stay still, he repeated to himself his head. Just sit still... the Doc'll take care of it...
There were others in the room, but Engineer couldn't be bothered to acknowledge who they were at the moment. The only man there that the Engineer could be bothered to identify was the field medic sitting beside him. Engineer could feel what seemed like two tiny metallic prongs sticking inside of him, toying with shredded sinew and setting his nerves on fire. Through out the procedure, Engineer kept hearing the same phrase repeated over and over again.
"Zis is going to hurt..."
Every time Engineer heard Medic say that, the demonic tool the doctor was using dug deeper and deeper into his body, following the path carved into him by the bullet; it had landed somewhere beyond his external oblique. He could feel the blood surrounding the wound's entrance, pouring down and dampening the white sheets.
"Heavy," the Engineer heard in an exhausted German accent. The wounded Texan, breathing in deeper breaths than he ever had in his life, slowly cranked his head to the right. Medic appeared to be in a feverish state, thick sweat collecting upon his neck and face; his dark hair appeared stuck to his forehead, and the collar of his uniform darkened from the wetness. There were others behind him. Scout and Sniper were there sitting on the counter top near the sink. Soldier was there too, leaning against the wall near the double door entrance. However, Engineer couldn't manage to make out their faces; his vision was getting blurry.
The giant Russian that Medic had summoned sat up from the minuscule stool behind the doctor. With a handkerchief in his right hand, Heavy cautiously dabbed and rubbed the cloth around Medic's face and neck, aware not to tough his eyes or glasses. The Russian continued this for a few moments before retreating back to his stool. Engineer glanced his eyes back over to the doctor at work; his damaged vision couldn't even recognize Medic's face now.
"Thank you Heavy," was what the Engineer heard from his surgeon before returning his head to its previous position, buried inside the bedsheets, his eye lids furiously trapped shut.
Engineer could only surmise that the Doc was sticking him with tweezers, or something like it. Whatever the instrument of treatment was, it was digging deeper and deeper into him. He had never felt anything more physically excruciating in his life. He was beginning to have trouble hearing his own panted breaths.
The... god damned pain, Engineer thought. Gonna... pass out. Even his thoughts were becoming incoherent and delayed. No... can't be... jus' the pain... God...it's blood loss... or its infected... can't breathe... God dammit, I'm gonna die. I'm gonna die. I'm gonna die. I'm gonna die.
The morbid thought wracked Engineer's brain repeatedly as if he had forgotten how to process anything else.
I'm gonna die.
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A slight, inaudible metallic clang rippled to the ends of Medic's thickly gloved fingers. The long surgical tweezers in his hand had reached their metal target. Momentarily, the doctor prayed there would be nothing else inside the patient's body that would come between him and the bullet he was trying so desperately hard to extract. This has to be it, Medic thought.
With the round of ammunition now within his extended grasp, he slowly began removing the tweezers from the Engineer's side; the shot had penetrated just below his rib cage. Though the bullet was nearly taken care of, a new horror had washed over Medic's mind mere moments ago, but he was careful not to pronounce it as to not panic the others during his work; Engineer had stopped breathing.
With one final, triumphant tug, the blood soaked tool finally emerged from its victim's body with a lengthy and pointed rifle round held tightly in its grasp. The room was filled with joyous sighs of relief and audible praise.
"Whew..."
"Good work, Doctor."
"Well done mate!"
Everyone was relieved. Except for Medic. Tossing the bullet into the stainless metal tray on the night stand, Medic then announced the grievous news.
"Engineer is unconscious and is not breazhing," he stated. Standing up and facing his four team mates, expressions of worry splashed across their faces. Even Soldier's mouth had noticeably contorted into a distressed frown of shock; his helmet hid the rest of face. "I need to try and resuscitate him," Medic started, and then turned to face Soldier. "Soldier, can you suture the wound?" Medic had figured if anyone else had experience worth trusting, it was the commando standing before him. Soldier's mouth straightened out as he lifted the rim of his helmet to examine his team mate's bloodied injury.
"Affirmative," the Solder replied enthusiastically, and immediately moved to the bed where his companion lay.
"Good, zhank you," the Medic breathed in relief. "Heavy, fetch zhe the suturing equipment for Soldier," the doctor ordered. Heavy gave a slight nod and moved to the large supply cabinet. Turning to the motionless Engineer on the bed, Medic placed his blood covered gloves on the man's shoulders. "Soldier, help me turn him over. We need to keep the wound facing this way."
Obliging to the surgeon's request, Soldier claimed Engineer's upper legs and aided in lifting up from the bed. "Careful, careful," the Medic urged, in between his clenched teeth. Lying crumpled on the bed, Soldier was quick spread out the patient's bootless legs. Sighing in stress, Medic knelt down near his patient's head. Reaching out, the doctor clasped Engineer's head and turned it to face himself, leaving streaks of blood across the Engineer's face. Medic looked to his right to see Heavy handed the supplies to Soldier, who was now sitting intently on the stool in front of the bullet wound. "Soldier, be thorough of course, but be quick; I can't perform zhe resuscitation proper until I can be sure I won't be pushing even more blood from his body," Medic demanded.
"Got it Doc," responded Soldier, now bending forward with the needle thread in his hands.
"And be prepare in case he wakes up while during zhe suturing. Understood?" Soldier nodded to the Medic's request. The doctor caught an image of the commando beginning to pierce the flesh around the wound with the needle before turning back to face the lifeless Engineer. Medic drew in a deep breath of air, and then pressed his lips to that of his patient's.
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