Summary: A vacation in the middle of nowhere during Winter turns out to not be as great as the team thought it’d be and now they’re stuck outside trying to stay warm. (Also available on AO3)
Pairings: Wilt Bozer & Jack Dalton & Riley Davis & Angus MacGyver
Part of the Whump Advent Calender 2020 series Prompt: Locked Outside Overnight / Cuddling For Warmth
Warnings: n/a
Notable tags: fluff, huddling for warmth, platonic cuddling
It was one of those few times everyone was given some time off at the same time. Probably because they’d all nearly died during that last op and Matty was feeling guilty about it. So she suggested one of the few not-used-and-will-probably-never-get-used Phoenix safehouses to spend that time off and the team agreed to the change in scenery.
That specific safehouse was a cabin in the middle of an area of wilderness that seemed to be constantly plagued by snowstorms. Three bed, two bath, a kitchen that was connected to the den, a shed out back used mostly to store wood and a little fire pit off to the side. It sounded quite charming. The drive over was spent with the boys arguing about who’d be sharing a bed while Riley played on her phone, knowing that she’d get a room all to herself.
Though none of that mattered, seeing as the cabin was burnt to a crisp.
Of course, the plan then would’ve been to hop back in Mac’s Jeep and head back to civilization. But it was almost out of gas and would likely leave them stranded on the side of the road.
“We don’t need to stop for gas, hoss. Matty said there’d be extra canisters of gasoline at the cabin. We'll be fine,” Mac started in a mocking imitation of Jack’s drawl.
“How the hell was I supposed to know that it’d all be used to burn the damn place to the ground?”
“I’m not saying you knew this would happen. I’m saying you should’ve listened to me when I said we should stop for gas!”
“Hey, guys. How about we shut up and actually figure out what we’re gonna do, huh?” Riley interrupted.
Mac and Jack gave each other the stare down and Mac seemed to lose their staring contest as he sighed, “Sorry. I’m cold and I’m pissed but that’s no reason to take it out on you.”
Jack pulled Mac in for a side hug and ruffled the blond’s hair as best he could with the beanie on the Mac’s head, “S’alright, bud. I know you didn’t mean nothin’ by it. Why don’t you get a fire goin’ while I go and call Matty?”
Jack turned back to the Jeep and Mac walked toward the firepit, “Sounds like a plan.”
Riley turned to Bozer, “Do they ever, like, really fight?”
Bozer shrugged, “Once in a blue moon.”
They made their way over to Mac, helping out when he asked them to get some wood from the shed. Jack came over eventually too, just as Mac had started to get a spark.
“So, good news, bad news,” Jack started.
“What’s the good news?” Bozer asked, rubbing his arms in a poor attempt to get warm.
“Well, good news is Mac’s got a fire goin’ for us,” Jack gestured to the small fire, “Bad news is that we got a couple hours before Matty can send someone out here.”
Everyone groaned.
—
Mac had managed to turn their small campfire into a bonfire. Very easy to do when there’s no need to worry about the cabin catching fire (plus they were using part of the cabin itself to light it).
The team thought it best to dig out all their extra clothing and put it on as well as wrap themselves in the individual blankets that they brought. After settling around the fire, the young people of the group thought it best to crowd around Jack. He provided almost as much warmth as the fire in front of them. Though all of that wasn’t enough for Bozer since he’d made his way, uninvited, to sit between Jack’s legs, back to chest. Jack didn’t seem to mind and just wrapped his arms around him.
They spend their time having casual conversation through their chattering teeth and scarves that cover half their face. At some point Riley decided enough was enough, “Alright, Bozer, you’ve had your turn, I want mine.”
“But it’s so cozy,” Bozer said stubbornly.
“Hey, come on now, Boze. We gotta share,” Jack admonished, unwrapping his arms from the oldest kid.
“Fine,” Bozer removed himself from Jack’s bubble and Riley took his place almost immediately.
“I don’t know why you guys were arguing about sharing beds. If I were you I’d’ve been arguing to have my own personal heater like Jack with me,” Riley said as she snuggled into Jack’s embrace.
“He snores,” Mac and Bozer said simultaneously. Riley nodded in understanding.
“Hey!” Jack sputtered, “I’m not that bad!”
“You are,” everyone said in response.
The conversation continued with Jack complaining here and there at how disrespectful his kids were. At some point, Riley turned to Mac and asked if he wanted a turn. Mac, never one to ask or openly want any kind of physical touch, said no. At that, Jack nudged Riley out of his arms and grabbed Mac by the clothing on his shoulders and forced the youngest closer to him. Mac protested but didn’t put up much of a fight.
Once Mac had gotten comfortable and Jack had wrapped him in arms, Jack said something that caught the young man off guard.
“I’m really proud of you, Mac.”
Mac leaned his head back on Jack’s shoulder to look him in the eye, “You…are? Why? What’d I do?”
Jack looked into Mac’s eyes, a soft look in his own to match the smile on his face. He brought up a hand and gently rested it on the back of Mac’s head.
“For wearing a beanie like a normal person would.”
Riley snorted as Mac placed his open palm on Jack’s face and roughly pushed it away as he stood up to get away from his partner, Bozer cackling all the while. Mac made his way to the other side of the bonfire, back to the driveway of the safehouse, and crossed his arms in a way that could only be described as a pout.
The team continued their laughter before it came to a stop, everyone getting to their feet and Jack pulling his gun from where he tucked in the back of his pants. Mac, confused at the sudden change in atmosphere, turned around to see a car that had driven up behind his Jeep. Jack moved in front of him, gun at the ready for whoever had decided to intrude.
The man who came out of the car did so with his hands up, seemingly unfazed by the gun being pointed at him. “Director Webber sent me. I brought gas for your car,” he’d said and Jack looked to his kids before turning back to the man and lowering his gun (he wasn’t going to put it away, of course).
The man made his way to the back of his car, Jack following with Mac right behind him. The man opened the trunk of his car, Jack watching him the whole time and handed the gas cans to the two agents. “This should be enough to fill your tank. The Director said to head into the nearest town. She booked you all hotel rooms.”
The man got back into his car and left almost as quick as he arrived. The team watched him leave and, after filling the tank, hopped into the Jeep and left the sorry excuse for a cabin in the wind.
On the way to civilized society, Jack’s phone rang and he answered unsurprised to hear their boss. “Hey, Matty. Thanks for getting us outta that jam.” The rest of the team followed up that statement with thanks of their own.
“No problem, guys,” The smile was evident in Matty’s tone, “Just wanted to apologize for sending you off in the middle of nowhere without any kind of shelter. Sorry.”
“Hey, it’s no sweat, Matty. We had fun! Kinda,” Bozer said from the back seat.
“Oh, so I should send you out for wilderness survival more often?” Matty laughed at the chorus of “no”’s that followed. “Well, you all get yourselves warmed up and well-rested. Oh and before I go, the hotel rooms I got for you only had two rooms, one with two queens and one with a king. Bye!” Matty hung up as the boys groaned. Riley smiled from her spot in the back.
Sooo, it’s finally time! Now, the little picture thingy above might look confusing at first, but don’t worry, I’ll explain all the prompts right here.
Also, since there were people who wanted the prompts to be shown early, but also people who wanted them to be a surprise, I decided to compromise - I will add a little something to each prompt when the time comes :D It will be something similar to what I’m going to add to the alternate prompts, which will hopefully be posted later today. 😅
Information about tagging and posting is under the read more :D
.
1 – Baby it’s cold outside
(1st – 3rd December)
Hypothermia 🎄 Locked outside overnight 🎄 Cuddling for warmth
.
2 – Kiss by candle light
(4th – 6th December)
Candles 🎄 Burns (either because of the flame or the hot wax) 🎄 Fear of fire
.
3 – All the lights and decorations put up in anticipation
(7th – 9th December)
Christmas decorations 🎄 Using them to tie someone up / for torture 🎄 Putting them up together
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4 – Break the ice
(10th – 12th December)
Ice and cold water 🎄 Falling through ice 🎄 Ice skating
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5 – Isn’t it a little early for this?
(13th - 15th December)
Fireworks 🎄 Explosion 🎄 Working with pyrotechnics gone wrong
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6 – The smell of gingerbread and vanilla
(16th - 18th December)
“I made this for you but I‘m not sure it’s edible.” 🎄 Poisoned 🎄 Baking
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7- Nightmare before Christmas
(19th - 21st December)
Nightmares and night terrors 🎄 PTSD 🎄 “It’s okay, it was just a dream..”
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8 – Christmas Day
(22nd - 24th December)
Christmas celebrations 🎄 Spending the holidays in captivity 🎄 With found family
.
🎄 🎄 🎄 🎄 🎄 🎄 🎄 🎄 🎄
Alt 1
🎁 Sick during the holidays 🎁
Alt 2
🎁 Presents 🎁
Alt 3
🎁 Coming together 🎁
🎄 🎄 🎄 🎄 🎄 🎄 🎄 🎄 🎄
Now, some more info and rules😂
You can post whenever you want, just please wait until December :D
Please @ this blog in every post you make for this event, putting #wac2020 in the tags is fine too but this seems more reliable 😅 also if you tag me and I don’t reblog your post in a day, it’s probably because tumblr didn’t let me know you tagged me - in that case dm me, send asks, any way to let me know is fine so don’t hesitate contact me if this happens (I remember how frustrated I was when none of my whumptober posts got reblogged)
Make sure to put trigger warning in the tags if needed
You can use any media you want, and both fandom related and original content is welcome! 😃
The prompts can be combined, posted in different order or even slightly changed - as long as you at least loosely stick to the original one 😃
Alrighty, that should be it.. If you have any more questions, don’t hesitate to send an ask! 😄
Oh oh, and everyone who participates gets a little surprise in the end of December 👀 Have fun and stay safe!
For @whump-advent-calendar‘s day 4-6, Burn/Candles
CW: Referenced medical whump and dehumanization, light burn (accidental), captivity, muzzling, drugging reference, reluctant whumper turned caretaker
Introduction | Siren Song | Cries | Here | Not Sure | Draw Blood | Fish | Signs
---
BAHRAM’S NOTES
NOTE TO SELF - SAVE IN EXTERNAL HARD DRIVE. DO NOT LET DR. L SEE.
October 22nd, 20XX
3:45 am
Mer in Residence: 19 Days
It’s time to admit I’m more or less keeping a diary at this point as I get to understanding him. So far I’ve written separate notes to myself… for ten or so straight days of the nineteen we’ve had him here, and it’s getting harder to write the official transcriptions the way Dr. L wants me to.
Dr. Lachlan insists I call the mer ‘it’, that it’s to help me distance myself emotionally since it’s such a good mimic of humanity, but I don’t think it’s a damn mimic, I think it’s just… human.
I mean, obviously it’s not HUMAN, but… Miah spelled it out for me, we had an argument about this when he first got here. She gets so angry that he’s getting hurt and you know, I guess I believed Dr. L - mer aren’t my specialty field, I’m a snake man really, I don’t know the first bloody thing about fucking cetaceans.
Anyway, I said to her at the time, “It’s not human.”
She told me, “Maybe not H-U-M-A-N, but P-E-R-S-O-N,” just like jabbing me in the chest afterward. Also, Miah can fingerspell in a way that really makes you feel like a six year old getting yelled at by your mother, for the record. I can’t describe it any other way. I was ready to just melt away from personal embarrassment before she even finished signing “person.”
That’s not the point of this.
I didn’t start a diary just to tell myself how right Miah is about all of this, but hey, here we are.
I need some days off so badly.
Miah wasn’t around today, it’s really just been me and the mer - I’m off for four days coming up here, after 20 days of work, and she’s going to come in and do 24-hour watch until I’m back. It’s not so bad - I don’t really know anyone here, and the bed’s comfortable enough. Dr. L’s paying rent on my apartment so I won’t lose it while I’m working, anyway.
I still feel like some low-level henchman, though. Like any moment some asshole in a tank top is going to show up with guns and I’ll just be a faceless evil stepping stone before the boss fight with Dr. L.
I mean, we all know that Dr. L’s going to be the boss fight, right? Anders would just like lay down or throw Miah in front of himself or something.
No, that’s not fair, he really does love her.
Bahram this is all hypotheticals about a video game. Get back on track, man.
So Miah must have gone shopping or something. She came back with a bag full of these candles from this bookstore she really likes. I mean she came back with an insane amount of books, too, but she had this candle she pulled out and put down on my desk.
She set down the candle - it’s this really nice deep blue and has some kind of like ocean scene painted on the label, like, isn’t that thematic - and smiled at me. “This one reminded me of what we’re doing,” She told me, and her signs were… softer. Her expressions were softer alongside them.
Does that mean… anything? I don’t know. She just put it on my desk and then wandered off. I thanked her but I had to take her shoulder and get her to look at me, first. Maybe her face was a little red.
Maybe not.
We keep the tank room pretty warm, I’m sort of cold-natured and the mer seems more active when we keep the lights really warm, so…
I don’t get why she bought me a candle and why she looked away before I could thank her for it. I don’t get it, and I feel like I should, but I don’t. Is she not looking because it wasn’t a big deal, or because it was a big deal, or… what?
I really WOULD sink into the floor if Dr. L or Miah ever saw that I wrote this. Get it together, Bahram. You are not writing a diary about Miah fucking Kirsse.
It’s been just me and the mer, all day. Dr. L was gone, too, meeting with whoever’s funding this whole thing. She’ll be gone until next week, so there’s no real work getting done, for now. Just blood draws.
She’s showing them its claws she took off. I don’t know why. Honestly, I have such a bad feeling about this, but I needed the cash and nowhere else was hiring for a job that would give me room and board and still time to work on my own research. Not that I’ve done a bit of THAT in a week.
I get too distracted by the mer.
He swims in circles. He stares at nothing, or pokes the plastic coral and ferns we got him, or hides in his cave. I can switch the screens over to watch the camera feed from inside the cave, but he doesn’t do much in there, either. I caught him picking at his scales, and I need to ask Dr. L about that. She took three scales off his tail, which for the record I had nothing to do with (whose record? I’m writing this to myself, and what the fuck does it matter about scales when I’m the one sticking the damn needle in his elbow twice a week), and I caught him sort of whistling sadly and picking at the empty spaces.
They’ll grow back, Dr. L says. She’s not worried.
I am.
A little.
I’m starting to think Dr. L is lying about a lot of things, and I’m not sure what to do about that. If anything. This is a job, and I get paid better than I’ve ever been paid in my life. So… what do I do?
I could call the hotline and report him. It’s anonymous.
She’d know I did it.
I don’t know why, but… I don’t want her to know it was me. Cowardice, I guess. Pure bloody cowardice.
But Miah hasn’t emailed the hotline, either. We can’t both be cowards, right?
Anyway.
Tonight was tank cleaning, which is a bloody fucking chore. Anders was around long enough to help me get the mer tranq’d and into the lift and then the rolling tank where he can just sit until I get my work done. Poor thing just lolls around when he’s tranq’d up. Barely blinks.
Doesn’t stop its fucking crying, though.
We took a lot of blood from him today, too, so he was very weak. Barely moved, just curled himself up small so he was totally in the water and watched me work after Anders left. We’ve got a scrubber machine that does the hard work, I just have to hose some things down and then make sure its filter is still operating correctly. Watch the scrubber. Whole process takes about three hours from start to tank totally refilled, as long as I do it weekly. It’ll take much longer if I let it slide.
Double-checked the camera in the cave, and when I walked out of it I saw the mer’s head was up, watching everything I was doing. He dropped right back down under the water when he saw me looking at him. The muzzle looks so monstrous on him, but more than that, it makes him look like a monster.
Maybe Dr. L doesn’t muzzle him to keep us safe, but to keep me from seeing his expressions while I’m here with him all day.
No, that’s stupid. She doesn’t even think he’s sentient, right?
I finished up, and when I came to roll him back to the lift, I saw he’d popped his head up out of the rolling tank and was looking around the room itself. He hasn’t really looked around at all before this, and he was still tranq’d but maybe I fucked up the dosage? Because he was pretty alert, kind of whistling to himself and giving little chirps and clicks. He sounds like some weird mix of killer whale and fucking otters or something. When he saw me, he flinched back down under the water, but I had this idea.
Dr. L took his claws, and he’s still muzzled except when he’s on the table or when he eats, so like, it’s not like he can hurt me, right?
His eyes had gone to my desk, looking at… I guess all my books and papers and my laptop and everything. Maybe the candle. I waved my hand around until I saw that he was watching me again. With those big eyes it’s hard to tell exactly what he’s looking at, but when I clapped my hands he blinked at me, so I know he can hear it, can see me.
Then - and I swear I’m not lying - he moved himself up out of the water, and put his palms together. His earfins twitched out and back against his scalp, and his white hair dripped water all down his shoulders.
He cocked his head at me. Then he put his hands together, harder this time. He clapped, and then… he clicked.
I KNEW it. I KNEW clicks were questions. Dr. L said their brains don’t work that way, but I bet they do. Who’s even considered how their brains work? Maybe they’re just like us. All the studying I’ve been doing shows that the scans we’ve done of dead ones are pretty similar in overall size and placement of their center of language. They’ve shown that mer populations have their own dialects if they don’t interact with each other, like the Atlantic transients sound totally different than the Pacific transients, which sound different than the residents that stick close to the coastlines up by Alaska...
Making my own head hurt. I don’t even care about fucking mammals, but I guess I do now.
“That’s right,” I said when he clapped, not like he can understand but still. I said it, and I clapped again, and he clapped back. “Can you give me your head? I’ll take your muzzle off, yeah? If you don’t bite.”
Dumbest fucking idea ever, but hey.
I think maybe he knows the word muzzle, because he whistled and shrunk down again, lowering his hands. His ear flaps flattened again. I saw the deep red marks around his neck, from how we have to use the catch-pole to get him out, and I just. I just felt like shit, you know?
I’m shit, that’s what I am, we’re torturing a child, more or less, who hasn’t done a thing to anyone but be by himself because he lost his bloody fucking family. I can’t keep telling myself I’m not the bad guy, you know?
I’m going to jail if I report him, aren’t I? I helped bring him in, after all. There’s my whole career down the drain.
Is this how it felt when everyone was being shit to monkeys in the 70′s and calling it psychology? Did some of them just go along with it because they thought they had to?
This is not helpful, Bahram.
I sat down at my desk and tried to figure it out. His eyes were on me the whole time. I looked over at Miah’s candle, and looked at the label. Like I said, ocean scene. Fronds and ferns and…
I turned the label to face the mer, and tapped on the image with my finger. “Fish,” I said, feeling dumb as hell. I told myself, it’s a bloody animal, Dr. L would roll around laughing at you for this.
But he came back up out of the water. There was a long moment, and I heard him click, and then a soft, “Sssshhhhhh,” sound came from behind his muzzle. They have lips like ours, although their way of communicating is basically whalesong and relies heavily on underwater acoustics. He’s louder in the tank than out of it, although I guess fear might make him quiet, too.
The recordings I found on youtube they get in the ocean are deafening loud. Their voices travel so well underwater, it’s amazing. People sell fucking CDs with mersong over piano to fall asleep to.
I poked at the ocean scene on the label again. “Fish,” I said firmly. “Do you want fish?”
He knows fish.
I KNOW he knows fish because he sat up, held out his right arm, and tapped his elbow with a blunt-edged, broken-off claw before he looked back at me, trembling with fear. He clicked again, twice.
I can’t even tell you how shit I feel, realizing he was asking if I was going to take his blood first. That’s what he meant, it has to be. He poked at the exact spot where he’s bruised up from the needle.
But it makes sense, right?
He’s been here twenty days, more or less. Every couple of days, when he’s hungry enough, we bribe him with fish to get the pole on him, take blood or whatever else, and then he eats.
No, WE don’t take his blood. I take his blood.
He thinks - and he’s fucking thinking, I know he is - that he only eats if we stick a needle in him.
I’m hurting a child.
I’m teaching a child to be hurt.
I’m not religious but this feels like the sort of thing you ask for forgiveness for, doesn’t it? I should call Maman and ask her who I could talk to. I’m going to call Maman or Baba tomorrow.
No I’m not.
What would I tell them I need to speak to someone about?
What if whoever I speak to calls and reports him, and Dr. L knows it was because of me?
I need to stop thinking about this.
“No, NOT draw blood,” I said, and he whimpered again, held out his arm further, closer to me, tapped his elbow again. I knew he could still hurt me - their strength is prodigious, the first time we got him out of the tank he nearly pulled Dr. L down into the water with him - but I decided it was worth the risk.
I kept thinking, he’s more scared of me than I am of him, but you know, of course he is. He’s the one with bruises.
I stretched my own arm out and showed it to him. He flinched back a little, and then leaned forward again, sitting in the little rolling tank that’s barely big enough to hold him. His blunt claws touched my arm, delicate as a feather, clicking as he poked at the sleeve of my sweater.
“No draw blood,” I said. “Just fish. Eat.” I mimed chewing.
He looked at me and clicked twice, cocking his head, then looked at my candle from Miah, pointing at the ocean scene. “Ffff-sshhhh,” he said, muffled.
“No, that’s a candle, it just has fish painted on it. Candle. Fire. Yes?”
Blank stare.
Then, repeated, “Ffff-sssshhh.”
I sighed and pulled out my little lighter. I don’t smoke or anything, but I hate the way matches smell, so I have a lighter on me basically all the time. Plus, having lighters was a pretty good way to make friends back in undergrad when I gave a fuck about that.
I flicked on the lighter, and the mer chirped, curiously.
Has it never seen fire before?
Why would it, it lives in the ocean. Don’t be a dumbshit, Bahram.
“Fire,” I said, and held it out a little for a closer look. “Fire.” I tilted it and lit the candle, and the mer leaned forward, rapt, as the wick sparked up to flame and I blew the smaller flame on the lighter out.
“FFfffff,” The mer said, barely audible. It clicked and held out its hand, and I wasn’t fast enough.
“No, wait stop-”
The mer’s fingertips touched the flame and it let out a deafening loud cry of pain and jerked its hand back down into the water, whimpering at the new kind of hurt, looking at me like it was MY fault, and maybe it was. Eyebrows furrowed, little crease in its forehead, big sad eyes.
The big sad eyes are wrecking me.
“Well, don’t touch fire and you won’t burn,” I said, shaking my head. “No touch fire. Fire bad. Fire burn.”
He held out his hand to show me. “Ffff-rrrrr.” It was a plaintive little breath of air, not quite a real sound.
The ends of two fingers were a little dark, that’s all. I could explain that by saying he’d hurt himself in the tank, maybe. I shook my head and pointed at the water, and it put its hand back in there, huffing a little breath of relief, I think. The water probably helped with the sting.
“Right. Fire bad. No fire.”
“Ffff-rrr... buh-ddd.”
“Right. Fire bad.” I stood up and walked over behind him, and he tried to turn and watch me but I shook my head and pointed back at the candle and he sort of huffed again and looked away. I felt him tense when my fingers touched the back of his head, but he sat still.
Probably because if he struggles when she goes to take the muzzle off or gets her fingers near his mouth, Dr. L has this electricity stick thing…
I’m not supposed to mention that in the transcripts.
I’m not supposed to mention how he screams, and he doesn’t sound like a whale or an otter, then. He doesn’t sound like an animal.
He sounds like a child.
He IS a child
He’s just
I’m a fucking
No. I need to focus. This is stuff I can’t tell Dr. L, I need to write it down here where it’s safe.
The muzzle is easy to get off, you just need to be looking right at it, and I unbuckled and pulled it free, feeling a little resistance from how well it stuck to his face. Without it on, there are deep red lines along his cheeks and jaw, not open or bleeding, just irritated.
He didn't grab at me, or bite. Just watched me with his big eyes as I laid it down on my desk. For a second we were both just quiet, looking at each other.
Then he pointed at the candle again. “Ffff-sssshh.”
“No,” I said. “Candle. Fire.”
The mer’s eyebrows furrowed and he shook his head, echoing what I did earlier. His hair slapped around. His teeth look like shark’s teeth up close, only there’s a lot less of them. “Nnnn-nnnuh,” He tried, shaking his head again.” Nnn-uh. Ffff-sssshhh.” Then he pointed at his mouth, opening wide, showing me the tongue behind his teeth. “Fffff-sssshhh. Ffff-ssshhh.”
I laughed, covering my mouth - he seems to be scared when we show too much teeth, probably in the ocean it’s a threat and they don’t smile like we do. Which, why would they?
But, see, I realized that he wasn’t pointing at the candle at all, but at the fish painted on it. Then he moved to look at the bucket of fish he gets as a reward for obedience, and pointed at that, then looked back at me to see if I was paying attention.
Of course I was. I was barely fucking breathing. This is signs of abstract thought process, recognizing that the image of a thing isn’t the thing itself. That he can point at it to represent what he wants. “You want fish? Is that it? You’re hungry? Want to eat some fish?”
The mer blinked and made a sound like a chirp, clapped his hands together. “Rrrrr. Fff-sssshhh.” He pointed at his mouth again. “Ffff-ssshhh. Buh-rrrrmm. Ffffsshh.”
“What did you say?” I whispered. My heart went cold. I can’t describe it any other way.
“Buh-rrrrmmmm. Ffff-sssshh, Buh-rrrmm.”
The bloody thing knows my fucking name.
He knows we have names and he knows mine and that means-... that means he has one, doesn’t it? If he has a name, if he has
I’m his fucking nightmare aren’t I
I’m the worst fucking thing that could happen to him, me and Miah and Dr. L and Anders and this is a job but it’s the worst thing that’s happened to him and it’s only
It’s going to get worse for him.
He’s going to die here and he’ll know all our names when he does.
Anyway, so... you know... I brought him a bucket of fish.
What else was I supposed to do?
He knows my name!
He let me put the muzzle on him again without fighting after he finished, and I got him back in the tank once the water was refreshed, and he’s sleeping off his meal now. I can see him on the feed, curled up inside the cave.
But I’m wide awake, so I thought I’d write this, because…
One false step could lead to slipping and falling into the dark, freezing water. Though the lake is mostly covered in thick ice, there is no way to tell where there might be thinner, more fragile parts. Looking at the marks on the ice there might have been some ice skaters around during the day, but at night, the place seems to be abandoned. Which would also mean, that there is no one around to help, in case something happened. Was that the sound of ice cracking?
The hunting cabin was the proverbial oasis in the middle of a very cold, very stormy, dark winter forest. And for the two fleeing agents, it couldn’t have appeared at a better time. Currently, the only thing keeping Mac upright was Jack and even Jack was starting to stumble in exhaustion.
The inside of the cabin was small and compact, minimal furniture arranged in an open plan layout. Jack sat Mac down on the edge of a bed and went to see what supplies he could find. The cupboards were bare for food and nothing came out of the taps when he tried them. The generator refused to kick in but he managed to find a box of candles and matches and he brought them over to the bed. Mac had let himself tip over, head on the pillow but leaving his feet still on the floor. Jack would have been worried he’d passed out except he could see Mac lazily blinking at him in the glow of the flashlight.
“No electricity, but I found candles.” Jack said, as he lit two, placing them on the bedside unit.
In the flickering light Mac looked even worse, giving him a ghostly pallor. The only colours on his face from the bruises on his jaw and cheekbone, highlighted by the warm flame.
“You look like shit.” Jack told him flatly.
“You don’t exactly look pretty yourself.” Mac shot back, putting a hint of a smile on both of their faces. Jack took Mac’s feet and deposited them onto the bed for him, before reaching for the zip of his jacket. Mac had taken some pretty serious hits, and those were just the ones that Jack had seen, he knew there was damage hidden under his clothes, he just wasn’t sure how bad it was.
“Lets peel some of these layers off, check you out properly.”
“Why?” Mac asked, grabbing Jack’s hand with his own, stopping him.
“What do you mean why?”
“It’s not going to help, even if I am bleeding internally, there’s nothing you can do about it out here. I’m just gonna get cold and you’re just going to worry.” Mac said, his eyes exhausted and resigned.
Jack sighed, dropping his hands. Mac had a point, and hopefully, ex-fil would find them before it became an issue but he had to prepare in case they didn’t. He had to ask, even if he wouldn’t like the answer.
“Are you?”
“Am I what?”
“Bleeding inside?”
Jack heard the answer in Mac’s silence and the way his eyes slipped away from Jack’s. “I’ll be okay,” Mac said instead. “Just give me a couple of hours to rest, let the storm pass and we can carry on hiking to higher ground, see if we can get that radio signal.”
“They’ll be searching for us already.” Jack chimed in with his own positivity, “Who knows, they might have found us by then anyway.”
“Hope so,” Mac whispered.
Jack rummaged around in a closet and found a couple of musty smelling blankets, he shook them out and then covered Mac. Lying down on the other side of the bed, he pulled the blankets over himself as well and shifted closer, curling up against Mac and adding his own body heat to Mac’s cocoon. He didn’t want to rest his arm across Mac’s midriff so instead laid his arm over Mac’s, his fingers finding Mac’s wrist and holding on, feeling the thrum of Mac’s pulse under his fingertips. Faster than it should be, but still relatively steady and strong.
“I’ll be okay.” Mac whispered, on the verge of sleep.
“I know you will.” Jack answered. “There’s no other option, you got that?”
“Got it.”
Jack had no intention of sleeping himself, afraid he’d sleep too long and through any alarm he’d set. Instead he laid there, keeping watch and counting heartbeats, only stopping when he heard the faint but familiar sound of a Phoenix ex-fil chopper.
