Tired Jack - Make it better
Mar. 6th, 2013 08:30 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
moonshadowsThe abandoned farmhouse made a remarkably good base. There was a town nearby where he could trade, and a Talon base not too much further where he could raid and steal communications equipment. Intercepting Talon movements was a priority, of course, but the real goal was keeping track of Reaper's movements.
Sometimes, as he lay awake listening to the sounds of the night, he thought about carrying a wounded Reaper off into the woods, to an isolated campsite, and... The thought ended abruptly there, because he couldn't bear to think about anything that might rip the bandages off the wounds in his mind. He'd bleed to death.
The other reason the farmhouse was a good base was there was so much mindless work that could be done to quiet the thoughts that ran in little circles, trapped between walls in his mind like a mouse under a glass bowl, frantically going nowhere.
He hated having nothing to do.
He was sweeping the upstairs when an alert pulsed on his wrist - Reaper on the move. Broom abandoned, he clattered down the wooden stairs while scrolling through the information on his wrist-mounted device. Reaper was coming to the base near him? Why? A sigh; he supposed he would never find out why, unless reaper went out on some kind of mission. Still, he watched through his visor as the sleek little ship streaked overhead, longing for something he couldn't let himself name.
The chatter his stolen device fed him once Reaper had arrived was...alarming. Talon had spotted him in the area. The order to search wouldn't be far behind. He gathered his things, or as much of what was useful as he could carry, and loaded it on the stolen speeder in the barn before riding it down a game trail and up into the hills. There was a cave that would make a decent enough spot to lay low and still keep him in range to keep tabs on Talon's movements.
He'd gotten as settled as one could get in a cave when the beacon went off.
Visor. Rifle. First-aid kit. Bitotic field emitter. He was on the speeder, coasting almost recklessly down the game trail towards Reyes's location.
The beacon was coming from the direction of his abandoned base, which was alarming for two reasons. First, Talon would know that someone had been there, and Reyes would likely guess that it was him. And second, there was no fighting going on. How had Reyes managed to injure himself so badly on an abandoned farm? He stopped just short of the edge of the woods and scanned the area with his visor. Only one life source, in the barn.
Only one? He hadn't brought any men with him?
Silently, he skirted the barn and got close enough to scan the house. No one.
Reaper had come alone.
His heart beat painfully, breath almost choking him. Why- no, don't think. Don't tug those bandages, leave the wound tightly-wrapped. Stability restored, he left the speeder just out of sight of the barn door and hefted the pulse rifle. Just in case. He slipped around the edge of the door and rolled smoothly to put his back to the other side, spending a minimal amount of time silhouetted against the light. The interior of the barn wasn't as dark as it could have been, between the numerous cracks between the boards that made up the walls and the fact that the door had been left wide open. Now, what had Reyes gotten himself into?
It took him a minute to find what he was looking for. He hadn't done much with the barn, so he had no earthly clue how it had happened, but Reyes had managed - somehow - to harpoon himself to the wall just under the hay loft with a pitchfork.
He was in action almost before he'd consciously registered the situation, rifle abandoned to scramble for a coil of rope hanging on the wall, swarm up the ladder to the hay loft and tie one end around a beam and the other around himself. Memories of repelling, blissfully free of context, bubbled up as he backed to the edge, keeping the rope taut. Down, slowly, walking down and over until he could inch within reach of Reyes - of Reaper, because he couldn't let himself forget that the man behind the mask was an enemy who might choose to take the opportunity to eliminate him. Cut off the nose to spite the face.
(He would not think about frogs and scorpions and fables about true nature, he wouldn't.)
Reaper was breathing, but not easily. Fuck. It didn't sound like a lung wound, but he still had a pitchfork through him. A pitchfork that was firmly wedged into the wood. How was he going to get it out without dropping Reyes? Could he get it out of the wood without removing it from Reyes's body? He inched closer and tested the handle. Rot and rust; he'd be able to get the handle out easily, and that would let him get better angles on the head.
"Don't move," he growled to the masked figure, which stirred.
"I'm trying," Reyes growled back, and that's when he noticed that those taloned gauntlets were dug into the wood, helping hold him up.
He put one foot on the head of the pitchfork to hold it still and wrapped the hand not holding the rope around the handle. One wrench, and it came free. He tossed it away. Awkwardly, he untied the rope from around himself and looped it around Reyes's chest and arms before tying it off.
"Kinky," came the mutter from behind the mask.
He ignored it and edged further down the wall, straddling Reyes, until the handle of the pitchfork was just above his shoulder. A sharp tug freed it from the wood, and Reyes's scream nearly broke what was left of his heart. Reyes slumped forward and he wrapped his free arm around that bleeding torso. Slow step by slow step they inched down the wall until he could shake the rope off his other arm and lay Reyes gently on the floor. The emitter got turned on and set on Reyes's abdomen. He reached for Reyes's armor, combat knife ready to carefully split it so he could get at the wounds before pulling out the filthy, rusty metal.
"Don't," Reyes growled.
"Don't clean the wounds?" he asked neutrally.
"I pity any germs that enter my body."
"Fine." He put the knife back. "I'm pulling it out now."
One hand on Reyes's shoulder, he grabbed the head of the pitchfork and yanked it out. The scream tore at the wrappings in his mind, making him want to tightly embrace the body of the man who used to be his friend. He threw the thing over by its other half, trying not to look at the bloody tines or hear Reyes gasping. The wounds were thankfully narrow enough that they would close fast. On the one hand, that meant he didn't need to put pressure on them. On the other hand, it meant he should get out of here because he was sure Reyes wouldn't tolerate him for much longer. He sat back on his heels, preparing to stand up.
"Wait."
He hesitated.
"Aren't you going to kiss it and make it better?" Reyes taunted.
It may have been only mocking, but with how badly he was bleeding in his mind, he couldn't bring himself to ignore it. Wordlessly, he undid the clasps holding the visor to his face and took it off. Not looking at the mask he knew Reyes could see perfectly well through, he bent down and pressed his lips to each of the punctures before putting the visor back on.
Reyes was silent as he walked to the door of the barn, retrieved his rifle, and left.
He'd made it almost all the way back to the cave by the time he heard Reaper snarl to his minions that Soldier 76 had absolutely been using the farmhouse as a base, but he was long gone and there was no point in looking for him. He walked the speeder into the cave, removed his visor, curled up on his bedroll, and cried that this was all he had left of Reyes: a handful of moments, preventing Reyes from bleeding out physically while he attempted to keep himself from bleeding out emotionally. He didn't know why Reyes had called off the search. A gesture of gratitude for having saved his life? Mercy given to an enemy? False hope?
All hope abandon, ye who enter here.
It didn't matter. Everything else had gone up in flames, come down in ash. If he met his end by Reaper's shotgun because he'd answered that beacon and patched Reyes up one last time, then at least he would have died doing something he didn't regret. There were worse ways to die.
Two faces hovered just out of memory; resolutely, he wound the bandages tighter around them. If he joined them, so be it. But he'd failed at everything else, and he'd give everything he was to prevent Reyes from joining them again.
Sometimes, as he lay awake listening to the sounds of the night, he thought about carrying a wounded Reaper off into the woods, to an isolated campsite, and... The thought ended abruptly there, because he couldn't bear to think about anything that might rip the bandages off the wounds in his mind. He'd bleed to death.
The other reason the farmhouse was a good base was there was so much mindless work that could be done to quiet the thoughts that ran in little circles, trapped between walls in his mind like a mouse under a glass bowl, frantically going nowhere.
He hated having nothing to do.
He was sweeping the upstairs when an alert pulsed on his wrist - Reaper on the move. Broom abandoned, he clattered down the wooden stairs while scrolling through the information on his wrist-mounted device. Reaper was coming to the base near him? Why? A sigh; he supposed he would never find out why, unless reaper went out on some kind of mission. Still, he watched through his visor as the sleek little ship streaked overhead, longing for something he couldn't let himself name.
The chatter his stolen device fed him once Reaper had arrived was...alarming. Talon had spotted him in the area. The order to search wouldn't be far behind. He gathered his things, or as much of what was useful as he could carry, and loaded it on the stolen speeder in the barn before riding it down a game trail and up into the hills. There was a cave that would make a decent enough spot to lay low and still keep him in range to keep tabs on Talon's movements.
He'd gotten as settled as one could get in a cave when the beacon went off.
Visor. Rifle. First-aid kit. Bitotic field emitter. He was on the speeder, coasting almost recklessly down the game trail towards Reyes's location.
The beacon was coming from the direction of his abandoned base, which was alarming for two reasons. First, Talon would know that someone had been there, and Reyes would likely guess that it was him. And second, there was no fighting going on. How had Reyes managed to injure himself so badly on an abandoned farm? He stopped just short of the edge of the woods and scanned the area with his visor. Only one life source, in the barn.
Only one? He hadn't brought any men with him?
Silently, he skirted the barn and got close enough to scan the house. No one.
Reaper had come alone.
His heart beat painfully, breath almost choking him. Why- no, don't think. Don't tug those bandages, leave the wound tightly-wrapped. Stability restored, he left the speeder just out of sight of the barn door and hefted the pulse rifle. Just in case. He slipped around the edge of the door and rolled smoothly to put his back to the other side, spending a minimal amount of time silhouetted against the light. The interior of the barn wasn't as dark as it could have been, between the numerous cracks between the boards that made up the walls and the fact that the door had been left wide open. Now, what had Reyes gotten himself into?
It took him a minute to find what he was looking for. He hadn't done much with the barn, so he had no earthly clue how it had happened, but Reyes had managed - somehow - to harpoon himself to the wall just under the hay loft with a pitchfork.
He was in action almost before he'd consciously registered the situation, rifle abandoned to scramble for a coil of rope hanging on the wall, swarm up the ladder to the hay loft and tie one end around a beam and the other around himself. Memories of repelling, blissfully free of context, bubbled up as he backed to the edge, keeping the rope taut. Down, slowly, walking down and over until he could inch within reach of Reyes - of Reaper, because he couldn't let himself forget that the man behind the mask was an enemy who might choose to take the opportunity to eliminate him. Cut off the nose to spite the face.
(He would not think about frogs and scorpions and fables about true nature, he wouldn't.)
Reaper was breathing, but not easily. Fuck. It didn't sound like a lung wound, but he still had a pitchfork through him. A pitchfork that was firmly wedged into the wood. How was he going to get it out without dropping Reyes? Could he get it out of the wood without removing it from Reyes's body? He inched closer and tested the handle. Rot and rust; he'd be able to get the handle out easily, and that would let him get better angles on the head.
"Don't move," he growled to the masked figure, which stirred.
"I'm trying," Reyes growled back, and that's when he noticed that those taloned gauntlets were dug into the wood, helping hold him up.
He put one foot on the head of the pitchfork to hold it still and wrapped the hand not holding the rope around the handle. One wrench, and it came free. He tossed it away. Awkwardly, he untied the rope from around himself and looped it around Reyes's chest and arms before tying it off.
"Kinky," came the mutter from behind the mask.
He ignored it and edged further down the wall, straddling Reyes, until the handle of the pitchfork was just above his shoulder. A sharp tug freed it from the wood, and Reyes's scream nearly broke what was left of his heart. Reyes slumped forward and he wrapped his free arm around that bleeding torso. Slow step by slow step they inched down the wall until he could shake the rope off his other arm and lay Reyes gently on the floor. The emitter got turned on and set on Reyes's abdomen. He reached for Reyes's armor, combat knife ready to carefully split it so he could get at the wounds before pulling out the filthy, rusty metal.
"Don't," Reyes growled.
"Don't clean the wounds?" he asked neutrally.
"I pity any germs that enter my body."
"Fine." He put the knife back. "I'm pulling it out now."
One hand on Reyes's shoulder, he grabbed the head of the pitchfork and yanked it out. The scream tore at the wrappings in his mind, making him want to tightly embrace the body of the man who used to be his friend. He threw the thing over by its other half, trying not to look at the bloody tines or hear Reyes gasping. The wounds were thankfully narrow enough that they would close fast. On the one hand, that meant he didn't need to put pressure on them. On the other hand, it meant he should get out of here because he was sure Reyes wouldn't tolerate him for much longer. He sat back on his heels, preparing to stand up.
"Wait."
He hesitated.
"Aren't you going to kiss it and make it better?" Reyes taunted.
It may have been only mocking, but with how badly he was bleeding in his mind, he couldn't bring himself to ignore it. Wordlessly, he undid the clasps holding the visor to his face and took it off. Not looking at the mask he knew Reyes could see perfectly well through, he bent down and pressed his lips to each of the punctures before putting the visor back on.
Reyes was silent as he walked to the door of the barn, retrieved his rifle, and left.
He'd made it almost all the way back to the cave by the time he heard Reaper snarl to his minions that Soldier 76 had absolutely been using the farmhouse as a base, but he was long gone and there was no point in looking for him. He walked the speeder into the cave, removed his visor, curled up on his bedroll, and cried that this was all he had left of Reyes: a handful of moments, preventing Reyes from bleeding out physically while he attempted to keep himself from bleeding out emotionally. He didn't know why Reyes had called off the search. A gesture of gratitude for having saved his life? Mercy given to an enemy? False hope?
All hope abandon, ye who enter here.
It didn't matter. Everything else had gone up in flames, come down in ash. If he met his end by Reaper's shotgun because he'd answered that beacon and patched Reyes up one last time, then at least he would have died doing something he didn't regret. There were worse ways to die.
Two faces hovered just out of memory; resolutely, he wound the bandages tighter around them. If he joined them, so be it. But he'd failed at everything else, and he'd give everything he was to prevent Reyes from joining them again.