by elfin

Harry rests his hand against the sandy blond hair, eyes settling on the beloved face, ashen grey, stained with blood, nose and mouth obliterated by an oxygen mask, blue eyes closed.

The paramedics tore his shirt as he lay bleeding on the ground,

"Hang on, Adam," he murmurs.

The ambulance doors slam shut. The paramedics are still working, fitting an IV, injecting something into it even though he's already unconscious, removing the mask and intubating into Adam's right lung.

The hospital feels like a thousand miles away. Every bump in the road makes Harry wince with what it does to Adam's damaged body.

When they finally arrive the doors swing open and a small entourage is there to greet them. Adam's lifted from the ambulance and wheeled quickly away through the wide open doors, the paramedics clearly delivering the information the doctors need to know.

A smooth operation, smoother than anything Harry's been involved in recently. He stands alone on the yellow lines painted onto the tarmac until another ambulance screams to a halt and someone yells at him to move.

He goes inside, walks blindly along the corridor until he sees three empty chairs along a wall the same colour as Adam's face and sits down on the middle one. His hands start to shake, then his arms, his legs, his whole body joining in this St Vitus Dance of his muscles.

He drops his head into his hands and his mind refuses to go back over what just happened, choosing instead to clear of rational thought, to sit open-mouthed, shell-shocked in the corridor.

When a narrow arm wraps around his shoulders, when he's coaxed into a warm embrace, pulled against a soft body and held, hushed, he doesn't struggle. He knows it's Ruth, the body spray she wears, the low, soothing tones of her words, seeking to comfort him as she always sought to.

After a long time she says, "They're operating in ten minutes. They say it's a punctured lung, with internal trauma, tissue disruption.... But they're hopeful." He can hear the tears in her voice, knows how close she is to Adam, especially after Fiona's death. He should be the one doing the comforting, he thinks. But he doesn't say it.

There will be time later, when he can tell her everything he's been holding back. Once Adam's safe, once he's out of danger. Once he's seen a smile - however small - return to those baby blue eyes.