summary: assigned on a freezing mountain rescue mission, you were tasked to locate and bring back survivors, while zayne tended to the injured. overwhelmed by the guilt of bringing in a child late, you bore your wounds in silence, leaving your husband unaware of the patient he should have noticed the most— and that's where he breaks.
tags: zayne x non-mc f!reader, angst/comfort, hurt, zayne loses composure, non-canonical events, no proofread
content warning: mentions of blood, death, injuries, hospitalization, heavy medical inaccuracies, rescue mission inaccuracies
word count: 3.6k
a/n: i would like to apologize in advance for the medical and rescue inaccuracies, as i am neither a medical nor a rescue personnel. google was my friend for this. i had to search stuff like “what equipment…”, “can blood loss…” and many other more lmao. thank you for your understanding, and enjoy reading!
It had been a few months since you and Zayne got married. Long before you got married and were dating, you gradually grew accustomed to each other's schedules. Sometimes, you would be assigned to a rescue mission, and he would sometimes join you, because it just so coincidentally happened that he was dispatched with the medical team.
And it was one of the few times.
You were assigned to a rescue mission on a freezing mountain, where a Wanderer attack had left countless civilians stranded across the snow-covered terrain.
As soon as you arrived, the cold mountain winds greeted your skin with a chill that seeped through the layers of your clothes. Snowfall seemed to have blanketed the terrain, burying an uneven ground beneath its surface. And somewhere beyond the ridge, emergency beacons continued to flash against the skies, marking the locations of stranded civilians.
The rescue personnel moved in hurried steps and huge strides around the temporary command post. Radios fuzzed with reports, stretchers were unloaded from transport vehicles, and medical personnel hurried between supply crates, checking the equipment one final time before deployment.
You stood near the edge of the staging area behind one of the tents, tightening the straps of your climbing harness over your thermal rescue suit as you shifted slightly beneath the thick black jacket, which was heavier than your usual uniform. After fastening the avalanche transceiver securely to your chest harness, you clipped your radio to your shoulder before reaching down to secure the crampons beneath your boots.
A familiar, cool voice came from behind. Before you could react, gloved fingers brushed against your shoulder, pulling one of your harness straps tightly.
"It wasn't locked properly," Zayne said as you glanced at him, watching him refasten the buckles on your harness.
"Oops. I should've noticed."
"You would have noticed," he replied, tugging the strap firmly to ensure that it would not come loose. "Just later than I did."
A small smile formed across your lips. "Always checking my work, Doctor Zayne?"
"I'd rather check it now than regret not doing so later."
For a brief moment, your eyes met his, and the moment they locked into yours, his gaze softened.
Your eyes lowered, and you reached to straighten up the uneven collar of his jacket. Then, your hands, tucked beneath the gloves, moved to caress his cheeks.
"Remember to take naps whenever you can, my love." You gently traced your thumb on his cheek.
Before either of you could say anything else, a sharp burst of static cut through the air.
"Alpha Rescue Team, move out."
Zayne briefly held your hand, then looked at your eyes again. "Be careful."
Just a few minutes later, the wind grew harsher as you climbed higher, some of it blowing snow that stung against your face despite the protection of your goggles. Feeling dehydrated, your lips began to crack as you often swallowed.
["Beacon's picking up two signals northeast,"] one of your teammates reported over the radio. You glanced at the GPS briefly. ["Let's move."]
The climb was nothing short of difficult. Several parts of the mountain had partially collapsed due to the Wanderer attack. At some point, you even found your knees slightly weakening upon seeing the far mountain ledges. You somehow felt grateful that the locations were not too far from the camp.
Just when you arrived at a victim's location, you saw the group of victims cluttered beneath the remains of a collapsed cabin.
"There are four!" You yelled as some of your teammates gathered to help you. There were two adults and an elderly man. However, your eyes were glued on the young girl beside them. Her ankle was pinned beneath a timber.
You dropped to one knee immediately and brushed away the snow covering her legs to her ankle.
"You're alright, sweetheart," you reassured softly. "We're here now."
You turned to your teammates and signaled them. "On three." Together, they lifted the timber just enough for you to slide her leg free. "Easy... easy." The girl's tears fell from her eyes as she gripped tightly onto your sleeve. "I've got you, honey." You shushed her.
You quickly secured a splint around her lower leg before wrapping a thermal blanket over her shoulders.
Suddenly, a static came out of the radio, alerting you and your teammates. "Rescue Team Three requesting assistance. Wanderer activity detected in approximately three hundred meters east."
"Escort them back to base." You instructed your teammates. "I'll go ahead with Team Three."
"Are you sure you'll be fine on your own?" Your teammate asked, and you replied with a quick 'Yes.'
As soon as you turned around to respond to the radio, your teammates immediately set out. "I am the closest. I am on my way."
You tightened your grip around your axe as you picked up your pace, your boots sinking into the snow. The radio clipped to your shoulder fuzzed with static every few seconds before falling silent again. The farther you ventured from the command post, the eerier, quieter everything became.
"Team Three?" you called into the radio.
Your brows furrowed, and you clicked your tongue as you continued towards the last transmitted coordinates. Suddenly, a child's weak cry broke the silence.
Without another thought, you found yourself breaking into a sprint. The sound led you beyond a cluster of snow-covered pines. As soon as your eyes landed on the child, your heart sank.
A little boy was crumpled against a fallen tree, one hand desperately pressing against his thigh. Blood continuously seeped through the gaps between his tiny fingers, staining the snow beneath him with a pool of red.
However, your eyes were caught by a creature, a Wanderer. Its limbs scraped across the frozen ground as it slowly closed the distance between itself and the helpless child.
"Hey, you stupid!" The Wanderer immediately turned towards you, lunging forward.
The creature's claws sliced through the air as you narrowly avoided its first strike, countering with a swing of your axe that forced it back several steps. Snow erupted under your boots as you aggressively pressed forward, refusing to let it come near the child again.
The Wanderer shrieked and charged one more. You sidestepped, striking the edge of your axe into its side before kicking it away.
For a brief second, you thought the fight was over.
Suddenly, a second Wanderer burst from beneath the snow, leaving you no time to react.
You felt a sharp pain rip through your side. "Ah—!"
The Wanderer's blade buried itself beneath your ribs before the creature could push any deeper.
Gritting your teeth in pain, you twisted your body and drove your axe into its chest, and you heard it let out a final screech before dissipating. The other Wanderer followed shortly after.
You breathed heavily, mustering your strength to walk towards the boy, your breathing becoming more ragged. Warm blood immediately spread beneath the layers of your thermal suit, but you paid it no attention.
You nearly stumbled towards the little boy, and you knelt beside him. "Hey, look at me."
His face, drained of color, turned towards you, his eyes meeting yours. His eyes were glossy with tears, as if begging you to stop the pain.
"It hurts so much..." he whimpered.
"I know, my dear." You held one of his hands, trying to help him muster strength. "Let me see it, yeah?"
Carefully moving his blood-soaked hand away, you examined the wound. There was a deep laceration that stretched across his upper thigh, blood steadily seeping from the injury.
Your expression immediately hardened. "You're going to be okay, dear. You're very strong." You reached for the pouch strapped to your belt, retrieving a tourniquet. "This is going to hurt, but I need you to be brave for me," you warned gently. "Then later, when you're healed, you can eat lots of yummy foods, yeah?"
The little boy nodded through his tears.
You secured the tourniquet high around his thigh and tightened it, following it with a dressing over the wound before wrapping his body in a blanket.
And only after you dressed his wound did you hear the loud thumping of your heart.
You hastily pressed a wound dressing on your side, blood soaking it within just seconds. Then, you pulled your jacket closed and carefully lifted the child into your trembling arms.
The child will die if you do not hurry.
"Hold on to me tightly, okay? I'll keep you safe."
By the time the camp came into your view, your legs felt heavier with each step. The little boy had long stopped crying, his head resting limply against your shoulder, his tiny fingers weakly clutching the front of your jacket. His face was frighteningly pale beneath the dirt and dried tears.
You tightened your hold around him. "Stay with me, sweetheart." The words came out as a plea.
As soon as you crossed the perimeter, several medics rushed toward you.
"Pediatric trauma!" one of them called.
You carefully lowered the boy onto the stretcher. "Male, approximately seven to eight years old," you reported between shallow breaths. "Deep laceration to the upper thigh. Tourniquet applied..." You briefly glanced at the time displayed on your wrist device. "... thirty minutes ago. Significant blood loss before hemorrhage control." A red triage band was secured around the child's wrist as the stretcher was wheeled towards the tent.
Zayne looked up from another patient. The moment he saw the incoming stretcher, he crossed the tent in long strides. "What happened?"
"Severe thigh laceration," the medic answered. "Tourniquet applied in the field, approximately thirty minutes ago."
"Seventy-eight over forty-six. Heart rate's one-fifty."
"Get two-bores of IVs. Warm the fluids. He's going into hypovolemic shock."
"Doctor Zayne, we're down to one unit of O-negative."
Suddenly, another medic came in. "We have another red tag!"
The tent descended further into chaos. Radios buzzed over one another. The heart monitors beeped without pause. Medical personnel hurried from one stretcher to the next, and a few doctors transferred from one bed to another.
You instinctively took a small step back, making room as another team wheeled an injured patient between you and Zayne. For a brief second, your eyes searched for him. Zayne was tending to the child, his eyes exhausted and hair disheveled.
You then heard the whisper of one of the nurses. "Had this child been brought late by just a few minutes, he would have passed away," she said as she looked at the child that you brought.
Maybe if you were a little faster, he would have been tended to much earlier.
Meanwhile, Greyson lowered the radio from his ear, and his expression stiffened. "The supply trucks have been delayed because of the weather. Earliest arrival is approximately twenty minutes."
Just a second after, you heard a nurse's panicking voice. "A patient's going into cardiac arrest!"
Your eyes scanned around the tent. The tent was cramped, and some nurses were almost bumping against each other. Due to the shortage of beds, some patients remained on the stretchers. Doctors kept moving everywhere, including Zayne. They had no time to pause or rest.
The sounds gradually blurred together in your ears. Their voices overlapped. The rattling of the surgical equipment, children crying, someone shouting— it all rang in your ears.
No. You could not bear it any longer. You could not bear to hear any more of people wailing in pain.
Without saying a word, you quietly stepped away from the treatment area.
You slowly trudged your way towards another tent, gathering your remaining strength in each heavy step. Your hand drifted to your side beneath your thick jacket, feeling a warm liquid seeping into your fingers.
As you pushed aside the flap of the tent, you felt your breathing become more uneven. Your eyes landed on the sealed boxes of dressings and emergency equipment that filled the space.
You drew in a shaky breath. "... I have to bring these."
Endless thoughts flooded your mind.
Those patients were going to die. Maybe if you could help them just a little bit. Maybe if you could help that child just a little bit.
You stepped towards one of the supply shelves and reached for a crate. However, before you could even reach for it, a sharp pain tore through your side, and your vision swayed.
You instinctively reached for the edge of the table to steady yourself, but your legs gave out before you could regain your balance.
A sharp gasp escaped your lips as you collapsed into a seated position, your back hitting the metal table behind you. Your breathing came in uneven, shallow breaths.
"No... no..." Your hand slowly pressed against your side as you winced in pain. With trembling fingers, you unzipped your thick rescue jacket.
The dressing you had hastily put on the mountainside had long since soaked through. Blood continued to seep from beneath it, staining your inner shirt before dripping towards the floor.
The small crimson stains gradually merged into a growing pool beneath you.
Your hands fumbled through one of the opened trauma kits beside you until you found a clean dressing. You peeled away the soaked bandage with a pained hiss before pressing the new dressing firmly against the wound. You wrapped the bandage around yourself as tightly as you could. However, the strength left your body with your last pull.
Suddenly, the flap of the tent opened.
A nurse hurried inside, her eyes immediately scanning the shelves.
Her eyes froze as soon as she saw you.
"... Mrs. Li?" The color drained from her face. "Mrs. Li!"
She rushed towards you, knees dropping to the ground. "Oh my god, you're bleeding!"
Your head remained lowered, hand limply clutching against your side. Your breaths had become slow and shallow. The corners of your vision darkened, and the sounds outside the tent seemed to drift farther and farther away until they were little more than muffled voices.
You could no longer comprehend the words coming out of the nurse's mouth, so you let out a whisper.
"I'm sorry... I was a bit late..." The words barely escaped your lips. "I couldn't help much..."
Just a second later, your vision drifted into darkness.
Something warm was brushing against your skin.
Your eyelids felt heavy, and it took you a few attempts before you managed to pry them open.
The white ceiling above you slowly came into focus, and you heard a steady beeping somewhere beside your bed. On the other hand, your throat felt dry. Your fingers twitched weakly against the blanket, enough to stir the figure seated beside your bed.
Turning your head slowly, your gaze landed on Zayne.
And oh, he looked nothing like the man who adjusted your harness before the mission.
His lab coat had faint creases, wrinkling the once-neat fabric as though he had been wearing it for a long time. His hair, which was usually kept in place, had begun to fall over his forehead. Dark circles lingered under his eyes, and exhaustion weighed on his usually calm face.
You tried to move your fingers a little, reaching for his hand. Seeing your attempt, he intertwined his hands with yours, meeting your gaze with pained eyes.
"My love, have you slept?" You asked. "You look tired."
A chuckle escaped his lips, but there was no sign of amusement in it. "... Not much." He breathed. "I was afraid to."
You tilted your head slightly in confusion.
"If I closed my eyes..." His thumb absentmindedly brushed over your knuckles. "...I was afraid I'd wake up, and you wouldn't be here."
Your heart clenched. "Zayne..."
"I've watched your monitor for two days. I know how many blood transfusions you received."
Silence settled between the two of you. Your gaze was fixed on his pained expression, then you gently squeezed his hand.
He did not speak, but his gaze fell to the ground.
"What happened to the little boy?" You asked.
"He survived," he replied, making a relief wash over your face.
"That's enough for me to hear—"
"No," his voice cut through. It was not loud. Not angry. But firm enough to make you freeze. "You do not get to play the hero," he said, and the room fell silent.
You stared at him in disbelief. "Zayne, those children and people needed you. If you hadn't tended to them quickly, they would've—"
"And what about my wife?" His voice cracked. For a second, you were unable to identify his tone. It was not anger. It was something more fragile. "... my wife who carried a child on her arms while enduring a stab wound?"
You met his eyes, and this time, his entire face fell into nothing but absolute fear and sadness.
"My wife who ran, bleeding on her own." His other hand raised, his palm briefly covering his eyes. "My wife who collapsed alone because she thought she mattered less than others."
You had never seen him like this. Never.
Zayne was the calmest person you had ever known. Not until now.
"You were lucky. And what if a nurse did not see you?" His head lowered. "You would've bled to death." His voice trembled. "I ran into that tent, and I saw you. I saw you bathing in your own blood." He breathed and swallowed. "I thought..."
You raised your hand slowly and caressed his cheek.
You could clearly see it. Tears were falling from his eyes, from Zayne's eyes, and his expression was broken.
You brushed your thumb to wipe his tears away. "I'm here, my love."
"I should have noticed," his breath hitched. "I should have noticed how pale you were." His hand trembled as he gripped the hand you placed on his cheek. "I should have taken a proper look."
He let out a bitter laugh. "What kind of doctor can mend countless lives yet fail to see his wife's pain?" He tightened his grip, as if it was a lifeline. "What kind of husband becomes the last person to know that his wife is hurting?"
"Zayne, none of this is your fault."
"No, no. It was my fault. I was too complacent." He shook his head.
You moved slightly upright, alerting Zayne to press his hand against your shoulder to stop you from moving. His eyes were swollen, small tears falling from them.
"My love, won't you look at me?" You softly called.
At your endearment, Zayne hesitantly met your eyes, as if ashamed of his meltdown.
"My love, all of it was a decision that I made." You gently locked your eyes with his.
"And I hate that you had to."
For a few minutes, his hand settled between your fingers, and his trembling body gradually loosened with the warm brushing of your thumb.
"If something like this happens again," he placed a soft kiss on your palm. "I want you to scream at me," he paused. "Yell at me. Tell me that you're hurting. Tell me how you feel, please."
You softly raised his hand and placed it against your cheek. “Yes, my love. I will.” You kissed his palm, and somehow, his breathing became even. “I promise.”
“Don't ever decide for me that everyone else should come before you.” He leaned in closer, his forehead pressing against yours. Then, he placed a soft kiss on your forehead down to your cheek.
For a while, silence settled between the two of you. It was gentle, warm, like the sunlight spilling through the hospital window. His hand remained intertwined with yours, absentmindedly tracing slow circles across the back of your hand with his thumb. Every now and then, he would steal glances at your face, trying to reassure himself that you were awake.
You chuckled. “Goodness, what would the patients say after finding out that I made their Doctor Zayne cry?”
"My reputation will recover." His thumb brushed lightly against your cheek. "I'd be far more concerned if you didn't."
After a few moments, Zayne reluctantly pulled away. He stood from his chair and walked over to the desk near the window, flipping through the chart that had been resting there. You watched him quietly.
Without looking up, he spoke. "I'm issuing you medical leave."
You blinked. “For how long?”
Your eyes widened. “Two months?!”
He briefly glanced at you before looking back at the charts. “At minimum.”
You let out an exaggerated sigh. “My love, are you trying to make me go broke?”
He looked up from the chart, his eyes hinting at amusement. “Are you underestimating my paycheck?”
You let out a small laugh. “Oh no. I wouldn’t dare.”
He closed the chart and returned to your bedside. "As your attending physician," he said in a matter-of-fact tone, "I'm ordering complete rest, no missions and no strenuous activity until I've cleared you." He then reached for the water jug and poured into an empty cup. “It’s doctor’s orders, and it’s non-negotiable.” He handed you the cup before tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “Understood?”
You looked up, pretending to think about it. “Hmm… Understood.”
Satisfied, he intertwined his fingers with yours once again, and this time, he refused to let go.
