Work Text:
Nate pushed open the heavy doors leading to the Surgical Department, his heart pounding from running up five flights of stairs. He spotted the receptionist and hurried towards her.
"Victor Sullivan," he said hastily. "Is he here?"
A woman with perfectly manicured nails began typing on her keyboard. "Victor Sullivan…" she scanned the information on her computer screen. "Gunshot wound to the abdomen. He's still in surgery, but they just sent word to the recovery room so they should be finishing soon."
"Gunshot wound?" Nate responded, stunned.
"Nate."
He looked up to see Sam standing against a wall on the far side of the waiting room.
Before the receptionist could answer, Nate walked past her towards Sam, anger propelling him forward with each step. He grabbed his brother's shirt and pushed him against the wall.
"What happened?" he demanded.
"Hey hey hey, take it easy," said Sam, protesting the rough treatment. "We ran into a group looking for the same artifact. Things didn't end…friendly."
Nate placed his forearm forcefully against Sam's chest, pushing him further into the wall. "I swear to God Sam, if you bailed on him like you did three months ago—"
Sam pushed back against Nate's arm. "They separated us, okay? I got away from the ones that were shooting at me and Sully didn't."
"And you didn't go back for him?"
"I had to wait until they dug up the box with the treasure in it."
His brother's words only served to inflate Nate's anger. It was starting to sound exactly like what Sully described to him three months earlier, when he showed up to Cassie's birthday party dripping with blood. From what Nate could see, Sam didn't have a scratch on him. He chose to save himself again instead of providing the backup that any responsible partner would've done.
"You waited for them to dig up the treasure when Sully had already been shot?" he asked incredulously.
"Hey, I like the guy, but it would've been pointless getting myself killed saving him, wouldn't you agree?"
Nate balled his hand into a fist, disgusted with his brother's words. Seeing the punch coming, Sam moved quickly to dodge it, and Nate's hand connected instead with the concrete wall.
At the same time the pain registered in his brain, he felt a strong set of hands constrain his arms and pry him away from the wall. He turned angrily to look up at a tall, burly security guard looming at least a foot over him.
"You need to leave," the guard said in a deep baritone.
Before he could answer, a man dressed in surgical scrubs entered the waiting room. "Victor Sullivan's family?" he asked.
Nate began to approach him but the security guard placed a strong hand on his shoulder. "Sir, you need to leave or I'm going to have to escort you out."
"Hey," Sam said to the guard, "it's okay man, it was my fault. I'll leave. Can he stay if I leave?"
The oversized guard frowned at the both of them, but reluctantly agreed. Nate straightened himself forcefully from the guard's grasp. He scowled at Sam.
"Get out of my face. And don't show yourself around here again."
Sam placed his hands up, and without another word, began walking towards the exit.
. . .
"How is he?" Nate asked the surgeon.
"He's a tough one," the other man replied. "He pulled through okay. The bullet missed his heart by only a few inches. He lost quite a bit of blood. We had to transfuse three units. The recovery will take several weeks, considering his age."
"Can I see him?"
"Sure, but just for a few minutes. He needs to rest."
A nurse brought him back to the recovery room where Sully lay on the bed, attached to multiple monitors. He was awake but groggy, and surprised to see Nate standing at the door.
"How'd you get here?" he asked, his voice hoarse from the breathing tube that was recently removed. "I thought you were in Manila."
"I got back last week," said Nate as he pulled up a chair next to the bed. He placed a hand on Sully's shoulder in greeting as he examined the heavy bandages around the older man's torso. Despite all the times he had been hospitalized himself from various injuries over the years, it was never easy to see Sully in a hospital bed.
"Sam called me this morning and said you were here, so I took the next flight out."
"He tell you what happened?" Sully asked.
"He told me enough," said Nate, frowning at the thought that Sam had once again put Sully's life in danger.
Sully's gaze wandered down to Nate's hand, whose knuckles had already started to bruise, and instantly understood what had happened. He sighed. "He's your brother, you know."
Nate leaned in toward the bed. "And who do you think you are, Sully?"
The older man's lips turned up into a tired smile. "I appreciate the loyalty, kid."
"Sully," said Nate, this time shaking his head, "for the sake of my blood pressure and my sanity, will you please consider calling it quits? This job has gotten too dangerous. And I can't be worrying about you twenty four hours a day. I swear to you, it's going to kill me."
Sully squinted at him with mock indignation. "Are you telling me I've aged out?"
"I aged out ten years ago, and I'm twenty-five years younger than you."
"You had Elena and Cassie to think about."
"So do you," said Nate. "Plus me. And I know plenty of women who would be absolutely heartbroken if anything happened to you."
Sully suppressed a laugh to keep from disturbing his new sutures. "How about…I'll give it some thought. Some serious thought this time."
"Good," said Nate. He hesitated before continuing. "Because if you keep on taking these jobs, I'll have to start going on them with you."
Sully met his eyes. "You can't do that. You promised Elena you were done when Cassie was born."
"You'd put me in a tough spot," he replied, his demeanor now completely serious. "But I'm not going to see you get hurt like this again. You were lucky this time. It doesn't mean next time will be the same."
Sully considered his words. Before he could respond, the nurse from earlier opened the door, signaling visitation time was up.
Nate placed a hand on Sully's as he stood, and gave it a strong squeeze. "You really had me scared, Sully."
Sully studied Nate's features. There seemed to be more worry lines on his forehead compared to just three months ago, when they last saw each other. They had discussed his retirement more times than he could count, but this time the kid really meant it.
"Get some rest. I'll be back to check on you in the morning."
"Nate—" Sully called as Nate walked towards the door.
He stopped to look back.
"Thanks for coming."
The younger man smiled, remembering the same words that came out of his own mouth on a mountaintop Tibetan village many years ago. "Always do, don't I?" he replied, playing his part.
Sully smiled back at him. "Yeah, you always do."