Mercy In You (Dave Gahan x Alan Wilder)

6. Strange Highs and Strange Lows

{Continuation} February 3rd 1993, 3:08pm, the coffee shop:

"He's... He's been what?"
"What's happ-" Dave tried to interject, but even minor movement caused him enormous pain. "OW."
"Baby, baby, it's okay, I'll tell you in just a minute." Alan angled his head away from the telephone for a singular moment to help Dave again. "Sorry, Fletch, carry on."
"He's been fucking stabbed, Alan, someone's- oh my fucking God-" Andy, just like Dave before Alan and the staff member retrieved him from the cubicle, too was hysterical.
"Alright, take a minute to calm down." Alan felt secondhand distress and shock for his bandmate.
Andy made an attempt to slow his breathing, which Alan could hear through the line.
"You OK?" He asked after waiting briefly.
"No." Andy sniffled. "I don't know if he will be."
"Don't be stupid, of course he will be, but who the hell did it?"
"Some- Some girl; she'd been following us and was planning to attack me, according to Mart."
"So why did she get Mart instead?"
"He got in her way right as she stabbed. I wou- would've been stabbed in my back if he hadn't. He- He saved me."
"... I just don't know what to say." His bandmate was still waiting for him to tell him it was all a cruel joke. "Did you see where he got stabbed?" He decided to ask.
"Hi-His diaphragm. But th-the knife went in and came straight back out, so I had to ap-apply pressure to the wound myself."
"That's exactly what you should've done, though, Fletch; good on you. Where are you both now?"
"Waiting to be put in the ambulance. They sent two of them and a ton of po-police cars."
"That'll be why the line is held up, then."
"Sorry?"
"Oh- It's a lot to try and explain, but Dave's not very well and we were trying to get ahold of an ambulance, too."
"Is he OK?!" Alan seemed to have unintentionally fueled Andy's trepidation.
"He will be, just some quite bad pain and bleeding. But we're gonna get him checked out."
"Jesus Christ," Andy's breath remained unstable. "Is the baby gonna be OK, do you think?"
"... I don't have an answer for that yet. But I hope to God yes." A lump formed in Alan's throat as he fought the urge to cry. "Keep us up to date on Martin's condition, though, please."
"Of course, but you do the same for us with Dave."
"I'll try my best to. I don't really know what they're going to do with him."
"I feel the same. This is all horrible."
"I know it is, Fletch." His bandmate sighed tearfully. "I know."
They shortly finished their conversation and, by then, the staff member had at last been able to reach an operator on the line. She looked over at them occasionally as she gave as much detail as she was aware of. Exhausted from the pain, Dave fell asleep in his sitting position and Alan did not disturb him, choosing to simply keep hold of his hand. He felt a sense of gratitude that his lover could now be free of pain during his rest.
But he knew he now had no choice but to wait until he awoke to explain to him what had occurred.

~♡~♡~♡~♡~
Five minutes later, 3:21pm, the ambulance station:

The final moment Martin could piece together in his mind before it happened was looking over his shoulder and seeing her. Her face of arduous evil, intending to strike at any coming second. And he knew precisely who her target were to be: Andy. His best friend. The only person he could candidly trust and shared a wholehearted, long-lasting friendship with. Their bond was unbreakable and held such strength; Martin would allow nothing to interfere with that. Thus, he came to the breakneck decision to intercept the attack for his best friend.
And there he lied now. On a stretcher inside of the ambulance. Staring at the ceiling. Not knowing what was to come next. He knew that he was conscious, he knew that he was breathing. But he couldn't speak, nor move. And he felt as though he was fading gradually further and further away from life.
Within seconds, he was experiencing hyperventilation and gasping for breath. His upper body convulsed and his hands panickingly clutched his throat, with his eyes bloodshot and wide open.
"Grab me an oxygen mask now, please." One paramedic said to another with urgency.
Rushing to retrieve one from the first aid box, it took them only moments to do so and pass it to their colleague, but Andy felt they were taking far too long. He grabbed hold of the stretcher's railing with one hand and used the other to take Martin's hand.
"Come back to us, Martin, you're okay." He said, watching the paramedic strap the oxygen mask to his best friend's face.
Martin's breathing had now sped up and the entirety of his body shook uncontrollably with the intense amount of adrenaline coursing through him.
"Is this a fit?" Andy asked.
"Looks more like a severe panic attack to me." The paramedic answered as she guided Martin's hand to secure it on top of the mask. "But this shaking that he's demonstrating is really quite normal after an accident. Does he have panic attacks regularly, though?"
"Yeah, actually, all the time." He sighed, looking at Martin's expression, which was one of extreme fear and pain.
"... He'll be alright." The paramedic went on to say to Andy before turning her words towards Martin. "You really will be, Martin. You're in completely safe hands and we will look after you."
Desperately trying to regain his ability of speech, Martin began creaking and whining beneath the oxygen mask.
"You're doing so well, Mart." Andy spoke to him again, enticing a response out of him.
"I don't-..." Martin's chest rose and fell laboriously. "I don't... want... to die..."
"You're not going to." He reassured him. "We won't let that happen."
"Can't... breathe..."
"Yes you can, go on, you've got your mask; let that do the work for you."
"It hurts so-... much." He moved one hand down to where he had been wounded, which was now bandaged with gauze temporarily.
"I bet it does." His bandmate and best friend sighed. "Can we get him any stronger pain relief?" He asked the paramedic.
"I can incorporate some more gas and air into his mask for now. When we get to hospital, he'll likely be given morphine."
"Okay. You just hang on for now then, Mart. I'll stay right here."
"I'm gonna need a recount of what happened to pass on to the police; is that OK?" The paramedic then asked.
"Oh, yeah, sure." Andy pulled his fingers through his hair.
"So, thirty one year old male, single stab wound to the diaphragm. Pressure applied to wound prior to ambulance's arrival." She jotted down in her notebook. "Now, just tell me however much you remember."