The hospital corridors had transformed into a fluorescent-lit purgatory. The smell of gunpowder hung heavy, clashing with the sterile tang of isopropyl alcohol. Christopher leaned heavily against the concrete pillar, his left shoulder blossoming in a sticky, warm crimson.
"Christopher, stay with me," Jack hissed, his bespoke suit jacket discarded and tied around Christopher's arm as a makeshift pressure bandage.
"I'm staying, Jack. I just... have a sudden, clinical interest in the pattern of the ceiling tiles," Christopher wheezed, his sarcasm thinning as shock began to tether his consciousness.
The lockdown sirens were a monotonous wail. Gary Clark was still out there, a ghost with a 9mm, and the elevator shafts were death traps.
"I'm carrying you," Jack said. It wasn't a legal motion; it was a verdict. He scooped Christopher up in a fireman's carry, ignoring the sharp gasp of pain that escaped the prodigy.
"Jack... your lower lumbar is going to file a lawsuit against you," Christopher muttered against Jack's neck, his blood seeping into the expensive fabric of Jack's shirt.
"Let it sue," Jack growled, moving toward the North Stairwell.
They moved through the shadows, Jack's breathing ragged but determined. Christopher's mind was a shattering mirror of spoilers. He knew Charles Percy was bleeding out somewhere. He knew Bailey was hiding under a bed.
"Wait," Christopher whispered as they reached the fourth-floor landing. "Don't go toward Pediatrics. Go to Storage Room 4B. It's reinforced for radiation equipment. The door locks from the inside."
"How do you—" Jack started, then stopped, kicking the door open as instructed. He slid Christopher down against a stack of lead-lined blankets.
Christopher slumped, his eyes unfocused. He had saved Jack, and Jack had carried him out of the line of fire. The script was shivering under the weight of their unwritten survival.
"You're a terrible patient, Christopher," Jack whispered, tearing a sterile sheet to re-dress the wound.
"And you're an overqualified ambulance," Christopher smirked, his hand finding Jack's. "But I think... I'll keep you on the payroll."