File #002 audio;

[rightfootforward]

Shooting them doesn't seem to do nearly as much as I had hoped.

.....

The more advanced medical facilities are at the tactical simulation building, the Battle Dome, yes?

...




And perhaps someone could tell me what day it is as well?

Comments

[bionically]

[Given that he can’t comfortably turn his head at present to catch much more than a bit of motion in his peripheral vision, he only has her voice to gauge how she’s doing. Her answer isn't the most convincing, but he doesn’t call her out on it – rather, he’ll take it as motivation to get his ass into gear that much sooner. He climbs to his knees.

It’s while reaching to pluck his sunglasses off the ground and slide them back on that he falters suddenly, noting the long, thin stick thrusting out of his sweater like an arrow, the fabric around it stained with a darkening blot of blood. His mind still reeling and with his heart thundering in his ears, it takes him a moment of watching the stick remain stiffly in place with the shallow rise and fall of his chest to appreciate just how much of a freak accident this is. Well, shit. Just his luck.

He surfaces sharply from his thoughts as he remembers she’d asked him something.]

…Hanging in there. [He manages a little breathlessly, slipping on his shades with practiced nonchalance.

There’s no way he’s yanking it out even if it doesn’t seem very big. With it acting as a plug, it would be less of a problem until he could have it looked at. Ah, hell, the thought of having it extracted bothers him infinitely less than the trouble of having to explain how it even came to pass. There is nothing dignified about face-planting and impaling yourself on forest debris hidden under snow while attempting to do a good deed. Nice work, Captain, he muses grimly.

Shaking off his daze, he wills himself to his feet to a grunt.]

Clinic's up ahead.

[It didn’t hurt; not yet, at least. Endorphins and adrenaline worked wonders. But tomorrow, especially... oh, that is something he's not looking forward towards. But he'd worry about it later.]

But... we might have a problem. [As much as he was loath to admit it.]

[rightfootforward]

[Might have a--

She turns her head and immediately spots the stick shot straight into his chest. The blood around the wound and his lack of breath says enough. For now he's got adrenaline working for him, but as soon as that wears off, shock will set in. She frowns and puts a hand lightly on his shoulder.]

If it isn't far, I'd rather walk.

[Pride be damned, his wound is worse than hers.]

Captain, if you would.

[bionically]

[Spencer glances up slightly at the light pressure of her hand against his shoulder.]

It’ll be a few minutes on foot. [He hadn’t anything to stabilize the stick with and she hadn’t any shoes. Yet, all things considered, the optimal course of action seemed obvious enough to him. There's a pause as he looks momentarily to her feet.]

…But I need you off the ground, Carter.

[He wouldn’t be the man he was if he hadn’t his bouts of recklessness, however well-intentioned. But he just couldn’t rest in good conscience knowing that in just a few minutes' time, she could be suffering from frostbite bad enough to warrant the amputation of her toes; or worse. Not to mention he hadn’t appraised her wounds to any great length. How long had she even been out here?

As he saw it, either way he’d suffer shock – until then, the least he could do would be to be useful for as long as he could until they found aid. She could call him an idiot all she liked, if she were the sort -- but it'd have to wait.]

I’ll make it. Just get on and I’ll take it from here for as long as I can. [Given that he'd seen her traveling earlier using a stick as a makeshift crutch, he figures he wouldn't be moving any slower, at least.] No swinging - just walking.

[rightfootforward]

Captain, the longer we stand here talking, the closer you are to shock.

Put me down.

[Cold or no, she can survive it and she's not going to let him potentially permanently damage his arm just for her. She uses her most authoritative voice to order him and points to the ground.]

[bionically]

[He makes a point of adjusting the positioning of his arms as to offer greater support, his gaze hard with resolve and fixed on the horizon. She wasn’t his ranking officer nor was he hers, but her steely, authoritative tone does not go unnoticed. Under different circumstances, respecting her request would have been simple enough.]

I’m not going to debate this with you, agent; you and I both know we don’t have the time.

[The answer is in as level a tone as he can muster before he begins plodding through the snow, dead branches cracking underfoot. A beat passes before he thinks to add, lowly and wryly:]

You can kick my ass for it later.

[rightfootforward]

[Ugh, men could be so stubborn. But she herself just said they couldn't argue any longer and now that they were moving, struggling against it would be counter-productive. She hunkers down, keeping an eye on his chest wound and testing her side with her fingers as they walk.]

Know that I'll be taking you up on that.

On the next episode of Dragon Ball Z...

[bionically]

...Thought you might. [He cracks a short-lived smile despite himself, forging on.]