CO - CT - MA - VT.... this month is exhausting in the best way. time with other artists and friends and the love of my life and so much stress but so much ecstasy and surely this will be fertile ground for new art when things settle... right?
Warnings: Language; Canon typical injuries; Implied sex
Word Count: 1,194
Note: A companion fic to I Promised but can be read separately.
Beta: @princessmisery666
Cutting left, she disappears into the denser tree line, taking the route he'd laid out for her to Baby. He could have led the way, but he wants to make sure she doesn't fall prey to the douchebags hunting them like animals.
She rescued him from the basement where he was being held, but they hadn't made it far from the house when the bullets started flying. The twisted bastards must have known, simply giving them a head start under the guise of an easy escape. The small projectiles whistle through the air decimating the fresh foliage in tiny explosions of bark and greenery.
"Sooie!"
Clenching his jaw when the shout, accompanied by snorting sounds, reaches him, he stops and pushes up against a tree for cover. If they call out again, he can pinpoint their location. A few moments later, he's rewarded with, "Here, piggy-piggies."
Even though it's too dark to see clearly, he turns toward their voices, searching. The snap of a twig tells him they're headed in the opposite direction, so he sets off to follow her, cursing when a tracer sets the sky alight in a shower of white sparks and smoke. Glancing one last time in her direction, he takes off to the right to lure them away and give her a chance to get to safety.
It’s only been a matter of seconds when he feels the burn of molten metal bore through the meat of his shoulder. Stumbling, he manages to stay upright. The next round rips through his side, and another pierces his thigh, sending him to his knees.
Crawling over to a patch of undergrowth to hide, he grits his teeth against the pain. Hearing them crashing through the forest toward him, he slides further into the brush, arm and leg dropping when they land on nothing but air. “Shit.”
Cautiously looking over the edge, he can just make out the ground below as the last remnants of the tracer’s illumination fade. It’s about a five-foot drop. He debates letting them capture him to distract them from hunting her. Then again, what good will he be if they truss him up again …or worse.
There are four of them, and he’s not exactly in top form at the moment. She’s quick and smart. She’ll make it out. He decides to bide his time for now and assess his injuries before making a move. Clamping his mouth closed to quiet his breathing, he rolls over the ledge.
“Where did he go?”
“I saw him drop. He has to be close.”
Shuffling overhead sends debris raining down on him, and he presses himself beneath the outcropping as far as possible. His shoulder numbs as they thrash through the scrub and underbrush, searching. Then a shout echos through the darkness, and they take off.
Fear that they're going straight for her spurs him into action. It doesn’t matter now what happens to him. He needs to create a diversion. Sitting up sends a wave of dizziness and nausea through him. He won’t make it back up the rock face, but he needs to get out in the open and get their attention. A couple of deep breaths, and he’s on his knees, grunting with a final push upward.
Stumbling away from the overhang, he makes it a couple of yards before collapsing. Fuckers must have tipped the bullets with something. There's no way those shots should be taking him out this quickly.
“Son of a bitch!” Rolling onto his back, he berates himself. He should have just stayed with her. At least they would be together.
He's always known that his end would be bloody, and she thought hers would be the same. They'd talked about it in hushed voices, bodies moving in sync, hands tracing over sweat-slicked skin, fingers pressed against pulse points. Affirmation to each that they were alive and safe. They'd promised each other that no matter what, they'd be together when the end came, but he'd silently sworn to keep her from falling prey to a hunter's end. He hopes fate doesn't intervene and lets those sonsofbitches cut her down.
She deserves better.
Making one more attempt to move, he can barely lift himself an inch off the ground. A piece of bark scrapes his neck as he falls back into the mossy earth. Bugs chirp and hum, leaves rustle, and a frog croaks nearby, a soothing lament to his ragged breaths. Life fading faster than the blood flowing, he tries to focus, to send a silent message to the stars of all the things he should have said to her. Words he should have whispered in her ear or said aloud daily but will never get to say now.
Lips soft and sweet brush along his jaw, breath warm as her tongue sweeps over his, fingers card through his hair, nails gently scraping over his scalp, the weight of her body a comfort. The memories attempt to swallow him and ease the guilt, but the exigency to protect her fights against the lull of contentment. Feeling his pulse spike, then slow, breaths becoming irregular, he shivers beneath the layers of flannel and canvas, his vision blurs, thoughts drifting. He wonders if he'll know his reaper. Maybe they'll tell her for him.
Another tracer illuminates the canopy of trees in the direction she'd gone, and he cries out in anger and frustration. The night falls eerily silent beneath the brightness and then roars to life as a wave of gunfire fills the misty air, along with cries of fury and pain. He swears he can hear her screaming for him and prays they didn't catch up to her. He calls her name one final time. A spray of dirt and decay shower his face as something lands hard next to him, but he's too far gone to do anything, sinking into the peaceful abyss.
He jerks awake, grunting as pain shoots through his entire body, rippling from the epicenters of his leg and shoulder wounds. His chest heaves as he breathes through the worst of it, hands fisting in the fabric beneath his palms. He hears a click and a beep, the pain recedes to a tolerable level, and then awareness hits. Snapping his eyelids open, he's met by blinding light and immediately closes them. Definitely not Hell, but he gets a sense that it's not Heaven, either. You never know with those dicks, though.
Movement to his right and the sweetest sounding growled, "Thank fuck!" have him peeling his eyes open again. This time in a squint. Softly calloused fingers wrap around his wrist, pressing into his pulse, and a palm is carefully flattened over his heart.
A few blinks later, he's met with trembling lips and a tear-filled gaze when their eyes fully connect.
"Y- you came b- back." His voice cracks, throat raw, the words laced with anger and awed adoration. Reaching for her, he's stopped short by the tug of an IV needle and monitor wires and drops his hand to his chest to cover hers.
A cheek damp with tears presses against his, and she whispers, "I promised, too."
Bukayo Saka of Arsenal during a training session at London Colney on April 08, 2023 in St Albans, England. (Photo by Stuart MacFarlane/Arsenal FC via Getty Images)
Arsenal manager Mikel Arteta during a training session at London Colney on April 08, 2023 in St Albans, England. (Photo by Stuart MacFarlane/Arsenal FC via Getty Images)
