Chapter Text
Cole finally had dragged Ramse out of harm’s way. He still wasn’t entirely sure that he had made the right decision, but he knew he’d regret leaving his friend’s ass behind. Keeping Ramse alive would help him get Cassie back. A tiny part of Cole was happy to see his friend again despite everything else.
They took Ramse’s car, some ridiculously huge SUV with tinted windows, to an abandoned looking cabin in the woods. It was a wonder they even made it there alive. Ramse could barely stand without Cole’s help. His skin was growing clammy. If his bleeding didn’t stop soon, he’d die. Once they were inside, Cole set them up in the bathroom. He found some rubbing alcohol, towels, a large knife and a flip-top lighter. He wished he had some needle or thread, but he couldn’t find either of those things.
Ramse was curled up in the bathtub when Cole returned. His eyes were shut tight. A small, metal flask lay there next to him. He was talking in some language Cole didn’t recognize. It almost sounded like he was counting. Cole cut away most of Ramse’s shirt to get a better look at the wound. Ramse faltered as Cole poured alcohol in his entry wound then his exit wound. He twisted away and swore. Cole handed him his belt to bite down on.
“Distract me,” Ramse pleaded.
Cole mopped up the excess alcohol. He held the knife up the flame of the lighter to heat it. “With what?”
Ramse’s eyes fluttered. “Tell me about your Cassie.”
“What about her?” Cole asked in annoyance. “And she isn’t mine.”
“You do love her though,” Ramse sucked in a breath and bit down as Cole pressed the knife to his gut. His teeth left a row of indentations on the belt. “Don’t you?”
Cole pretended not to hear the breathy question over the sizzle of Ramse’s flesh. It wasn’t something he was ready to face or say out loud, especially with Cassie gone. He flipped Ramse onto his good side to expose the exit wound. Cole heated the blade again.
Pain wasn’t enough of an obstacle for Ramse. “I can tell, you know. It was a long time ago, but I remember you splintering back in a fancy suit. Never seen you so wound up, brother. But I get it now.” Ramse swore around the belt again as Cole cauterized his wound. He made a new row of bitemarks. “She’s one hell of a woman. Never thought she would shoot though.”
Cole didn't want to think about back when they were friends. It hurt too much. Throwing in that they were talking about Cassie just made things worse. He would never tell, but a small part of Cole was proud of Cassie for shooting Ramse. She made a great shot even if the aftermath was really shitty. Even though it hurt, Cole couldn’t stop himself from thinking about his lessons with Cassie. He smiled thinking about how awful she had been initially.
“You can blame me for that. I taught her how to,” Cole stated proudly. Ramse just smiled weakly at that. “Figured.”
Ramse’s eyelids slowly slid shut. Cole felt the side of his neck for a pulse. It was weak, but still there. Cole sighed in relief. Ramse might make it out okay.
Not for the first time, Cole wished Cassie were with them. She would've been able to help Ramse more than Cole had. There were probably twenty different things he had done wrong.
Medical skills weren't the only reason he wanted Cassie though. Cole wanted to talk things out with her. He wanted to work out what had happened with the army. His thoughts about Ramse were all tangled, and Cassie was great at helping him with that.
Most of all he wanted her here, because it meant she wasn't in 2043. It damn near killed him to think about her there. It was a harsh place. He grew up there and barely liked it. It would be a rough adjustment for her. If Cole had been able to, he would've gladly traded places with Cassie.
Was that what Ramse had meant when he talked about Cassie? Was this attachment Cole felt love?
He wasn't so sure. Cole had seen the awful things Ramse and Aaron had done in the name of love.
But maybe the things Cole had done were just as awful, and maybe he didn’t solely do it for seven billion people anymore. Without what had happened at Spearhead, there wouldn’t have been a machine to send Cassie through. On the other hand, without the killing of innocent people of Spearhead Cassie would still have been safe, for now. Was Ramse right? Was Cole doing this only for her now?
Cole pushed aside his thoughts for the moment. He needed to focus on Ramse’s health instead of the state of his soul. He threw himself into cleaning up the blood in the bathroom. The floor was tile so it wasn’t as hard to clean as it could’ve been. Cole found clothes for both of them. He also collected every pill bottle he could find. He could read the labels, but wasn’t sure what Ramse would need. Hopefully Ramse would be conscious enough to figure out what he should take.
Ramse finally came to about an hour after he passed out. His face was ashen still, but his skin was no longer clammy. Cole poured some more rubbing alcohol over Ramse’s cauterized wounds and bandaged them up. Ramse sucked in a deep breath. He bit his lip so hard it started to bleed. He sorted through the pills Cole had found. He dismissed the two painkillers for another swig from his flask.
“Want some?” Ramse offered Cole the flask.
Cole shook his head. “I wasn’t injured.”
Ramse narrowed his eyes, assessing Cole. “You may not be bleeding, but you sure look like you’re hurting.”
Cole’s jaw clenched. Thirty years had passed for Ramse, yet he could still practically read Cole’s mind.
“I lost my mom. I lost Elena twice. I thought I was responsible for your death. It all hurt me much worse than this bullet did.”
This time when Ramse held out the flask, Cole took it. He had a tiny sip. The difference between this alcohol and the crap they used to drink was huge. The future alcohol felt like swallowing glass, even if it did get the job done. There was a smoothness to the burn of whatever Ramse had. Cole could feel it make its way to his stomach, warming it.
“We’re going to get her back.” Ramse weakly patted Cole’s shoulder. “At least you got to tell her you love her and kiss her goodbye. She’ll know how hard you’re fighting here.”
Cole took a shuddering breath. He gulped down more alcohol to avoid talking. The buzz would also help him when Ramse didn’t let the conversation die.
“You did tell her, right?”
Ramse groaned when Cole said nothing, just refused to make eye contact.
“You kissed her at some point though, right? Your faces looked really close. Please tell me you did that at the very least.”
Cole huffed. “You were in the room. You know what did or didn’t happen.”
“I was too busy bleeding out on the floor to focus on your total lack of game. Plus, you were whispering,” Ramse shot back. “Promise me you kiss her when you get her back. I taught you better than that.”
Cole laughed. He was rusty at it, but it felt good. “I think you’ve become senile, you never taught me anything useful about chicks.”
“Yes, I did. Cole, she was practically begging you for it. If she hadn’t been injured, Cassie would’ve dragged you down for a kiss herself. Didn’t you see it? I hope to God she survives this. She deserves so much better than that lousy farewell from you,” Ramse teased.
Cole didn’t want to spill all of his feelings to Ramse. It hadn’t been that long for him since his friend had almost killed him. He wanted to go back to the way things were. He wanted his brother back, if only for a few moments. He needed that.
“I didn’t… I didn’t want it to be a farewell,” Cole whispered. Cassie had said goodbye to him twice and he had promised to see her soon, again. He wanted to promise her more than that. He wanted the first time he kissed her to be a beginning, not an end. “No matter what I do, she always dies.”
Ramse nodded. “Maybe, but I’ve realized now, it’s important to make the most of the time we have. I wished I had done things differently with Elena after I got her back, but I did let her know how much I loved her, and I’m glad for that. She didn’t die unloved.” Ramse cleared his throat. Thirty years and he still wasn’t over Elena. “When we get Cassie back, you need to tell her that she is loved, for all it’s worth. You may never know when you’ll get your chance again.”
Cole wanted to laugh Ramse’s intense stare off. He wanted to ignore his advice because it hurt too much to think about. Cole couldn’t though. “I know. I promise.”
“Good. That’s good, brother.” Ramse relaxed in the tub and closed his eyes again, but he wasn’t passing out this time. It was a good sign.
Cole thought about what Ramse had said. When we get Cassie back… Cole would tell her, he would. He had to.
But right now, Ramse had to rest, but not preferably in a bathtub.
“Hey, wake up. We need to get you out of this tub. There’s a decent looking bed out there”. Cole pointed to the room they had entered through.
Ramse groaned. He shifted onto his good side. His hands braced themselves on the tub so he could lift himself up. Ramse’s arms buckled and collapsed halfway up. He grabbed the flask and took a long pull of bourbon.
“Jeez, do I need to carry you?” Cole asked half in jest, half in earnest.
Ramse rolled his eyes. “You should respect your elders, Cole. I’m doing the best I can here.”
“Yeah, sure.” Cole tried to sound sarcastic, but he couldn’t stop himself from smiling a little. They fell into their old banter without thinking twice. It was strangely comforting after such a stressful day.
Cole hauled Ramse up, letting the other man put most of his weight on him. They slowly shuffled toward the bed. Cole tried to gently let Ramse down, but he wasn’t careful enough. Ramse thudded onto the bed before bouncing and landing again. He groaned and tried to find a position that didn’t make his body ache.
“I found some clean clothes. We need to get you out of those bloody ones.”
Ramse nodded. He was able to squirm out of what was left of his shirt by himself. Cole threw a plaid, flannel shirt at him. It was much easier for Ramse to put on a button down rather than a t-shirt. It still was a struggle for him though. Every time Cole moved to help, Ramse shot him a look.
“So… you never got any vintage then?” Ramse asked, trying to distract Cole.
Cole snorted. “You’re the one who is vintage now. What were you even wearing? Was that a tailored suit, old man?”
“It’s Armani,” Ramse stated with a wince.
Cole moved closer. “What?”
Ramse waved him off. “Don’t worry. It’s ruined now, but that doesn’t matter anymore.” He shifted so he was almost sitting up. “Just know this Cole, I’m really glad we’re here together again.”
He may not fully trust Ramse for a while, but Cole felt the same.