It Was Always You

Ch. 15 In Not Up

She shook her head at him, stepping in closer to really assess what was happening. It appeared the guy had a large bullet hole in very close proximity to his butthole. Juice's finger was almost all the way inside the wound, his entire hand covered in blood. Blood stained the front and the sleeves of his white t-shirt, which was a shame because she really loved that shirt. She dropped a kiss to the top of Juice's head. "How did you even end up in this position, goof?"

"Fuckin' Chibs," he said nodding towards the Scot who gave her a little wave in return.

"Needed somethin' to plug up the bleed. Don't have the most advanced tools here," Chibs explained on a shrug. "Used the closest thing I had."

Angela stifled a laugh at the glare Juice was sending Chibs. "Don't you fuckin' laugh at me, Angel," Juice said, trying and failing to turn that angry glare on her. He puffed up his chest a little. "I'm saving someone's life here."

"And you're doing a fantastic job," she replied, squeezing his shoulder lovingly. "So good, I may give you a massage as a reward."

"With a happy ending?" he asked, eyes big and hopeful.

She glanced over at Chibs conspiratorially. "What d'ya think, Chibbies? He deserve a happy ending?"

Chibs chuckled, shrugging a shoulder. "Perhaps. 's long as he makes sure you get one too," he said, giving her a wink.

The doors opened again and Gemma ushered Tara in. Tara's eyes took in the scene for a brief moment before they landed on Angela, brows furrowed in confusion. She waved at the doctor, trying not to laugh at the astonished look on Tara's face. "Oh my God," Tara murmured, looking at Gemma for explanation.

"Took two slugs. Got one," Gemma explained, hands on her hips. "Little Dutch boy's keeping the blood dike from bursting. Little Miss Undertaker, here, was useless."

"Again, I deal with dead people," Angela reminded her, walking around the table to stand beside Chibs and observe as Gemma explained who Tara was to the now conscious man on the table. The man asked Tara something about being Irish, his voice thick with an Irish accent.

Tara didn't seem too pleased with the whole situation. She handed a box of gloves to Gemma who took them, immediately handing them over to Angela. "You're up, undertaker."

"Undertaker?" the Irish man repeated, lifting his head slightly. "Am I dyin'?"

"Nah, just here as a precaution," Angela answered sarcastically, earning her another glare from Gemma. She grabbed the box of gloves from her and pulled on a pair before nodding to Tara. "What can I do, Doc?"

Tara handed her some gauze. "I'm gonna have Juice move his finger from the wound, you're gonna stuff in that gauze, and I'm gonna close it off with this clamp, okay?"

"Sure you know what you're doin'?" Gemma asked from over Angela's shoulder, eyebrow raised.

Tara glowered at her. "Guess we'll find out," she said, her tone flat, lethal. She nodded towards Juice. "On three, ready?"

Angela waited for three, watching as Juice moved his hand, and a geyser of blood shot into the air. Pressurized blood, she noted. So he'd nicked an artery, she thought, slightly amused at her recollection of physiology as she packed the gauze in there. Tara clamped the artery relatively easily, stopping the bleeding.

Juice glanced from the wound to Angela, eyes sparkling with fascination. "Holy shit. Great job, Doc," he praised, familiar with Tara from his previous stay at St. Thomas. "Can I go and wash my hands and stuff?"

Gemma's hands covered Angela's as Tara praised Juice for his work. "Go tend to your boy. His bag's by the door. I can handle this," Gemma ordered so only Angela could hear.