Chapter Text
Husker managed to prop himself up against the trunk of a tree, wincing in pain. Turning his attention to the massive gash in his left leg, he struggled to pull out his utility knife from the pocket on his flight suit, managing not to spill the first aid pack onto the ground. Ripping open the pant leg of the suit with the aid of the knife, he sighed.
‘Well, this is a fine kettle of fish you’ve gotten yourself into, my boy,’ his late grandmother’s voice whispered in his ear, her Tauron accent as strong in memory as it had been in life.
It was. There was no way around it. His C.O. was going to kill him. And that was if he managed to survive this. How could he have gotten into such a stupid mess? Still. First things first. He might have to move quickly, and he couldn’t be tied down. Looking up into the tree above him, he cut the strings of the parachute currently stuck in its substantial branches. That was better, though, from the look of his leg, he wasn’t going anywhere fast.
Turning his attention back to the wound, he moved quickly, sprinkling on the antibiotic powder before slapping on an absorbent pad. Now came the hard part. Grimacing at the pain, he lifted his leg. Godsdamn it. He lifted it high enough to maneuverer the bandage around it and yanking it tight, tied it into place.
By now he was panting with pain and exertion, so he allowed himself one blessed moment to take a sip of water before leaning his head back against the tree trunk with relief. Now all he needed was a plan. Step one; figure out where the hell he was…
Having gotten used to the sounds of nature around him in the few minutes since he’d … landed, his eyes flashed open at the telltale sound of footsteps nearby as a twig broke underfoot. Grabbing his rifle and flipping off the safety, he raised it towards the approaching intruder.
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Flyboys. Every time.
Laura sighed silently as she looked at the wounded predator holding the gun on her.
‘Well, this is unexpected,’ she said, careful to keep her hands in sight and her voice pitched low.
The massive wound and the parachute tangled in the tree told their own story.
She examined him with interest as he lowered the gun and closed his eyes, in pain, she imagined.
The massive wound in his thigh, which was seeping blood, clearly explained that. The fact that blood was already seeping through the bandage was not the best of signs, particularly since it was clear he’d recently attended to it.
Or maybe he’s just really bad at it, she thought. Examining it again, she could see that it would have to be adjusted. She tried again to engage him.
‘Hello. I’m Laura.’
‘Bill,’ he grunted, eyes still closed.
She moved slowly towards him, but even with her quiet movement, his eyes snapped open. Dear lords they were blue.
‘Relax; I’m just going to have a look at your leg. I think the bandage needs to be fixed.’
‘It’s fine.’
‘It’s not.’ She snapped back, and surprised a grin out of him. Deciding to take that as a win, she moved more quickly and squatted down to have a closer look. He’d obviously decided to trust her; neither her quick movements nor her tone made him snap back. Rather he left his head resting against the true, eyes closed. He must be in a great deal of pain.
She made a number of adjustments to the bandage, she was right; it had not been as well situated as he’d clearly thought. Given the pain he was in and the angle of the wound, she wasn’t surprised. Satisfied, she sat back, her eyes on level with his as she sat on the ground in front of him.
‘Alright, Mr. Bill… Adama,’ she said, reading his last name off the front of his flight suit. ‘The question is, now what do we do with you?’
‘It’s Captain Adama. Or Husker.’
Husker? Must be the voice. Yum. Stop it Laura, she chastised herself. Flyboys. Every frakking time.
‘Alright, Captain. What’s the plan?’
‘Where am I? You familiar with this area? There a trail nearby? ’
‘That’s right. It’s about twenty yards that way. I saw the parachute and decided to check it out.’
‘Well that was really stupid.’
‘Excuse me?!?’
‘Who knows what you could have found.’
‘Really? ‘Cause Cylons have taken to parachuting into the woods looking for trouble?’
‘Fine. Whatever. You shouldn’t be wandering around the woods by yourself. Where’s the rest of you?’
‘The rest of me? I’ve been wandering around these woods for years, Captain, and the only problem I’ve ever had is you.’
He glared at her but she could see from the colour fading from his cheeks that he was already cooling down. Quick temper, eh Captain? Flyboys. Still, it looked like he was also quick to cool off, for which she was thankful. They would have had a hard enough time getting out of here as it was.
‘Your, uh, colleagues,’ she wasn’t sure what to call them, ‘will they be out looking for you? Did you, I don’t know, send out a distress call or something?’
Man that sounded lame, even to her.
‘Not right away. They’ll be looking tomorrow. ‘Till then, they won’t really be expecting me back.’ Then it’s a good thing I came along, she thought to herself, keeping quiet despite her own temper. No point in getting him all riled up again.
‘Well, between me and a large, uh, stick, I think we can get you to the trail and maybe back to my car. We should get you to a hospital sooner rather than later.’
‘How far had you hiked in?’
‘Not far. About 20 minutes. Obviously it will take longer with you in your… condition.’
His mouth twisted. ‘Obviously.’
‘All right.’ She stood up and started looked for a sturdy stick long enough and hefty enough for him to use as a crutch. Hmm. He was about 5’9, maybe, a couple of inches taller than her… and gorgeous, her traitorous mind supplied. Stop it. Just stop it, Laura. Focus. She found a stick, it wasn’t perfect, but it would do. Moving back over to him, she helped him rise with her help and that of the branch. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders, grunting with pain.
There was some heft there, she thought as she tried to stay steady under his weight. He was slight but muscular, which made sense given his occupation. Standing so close to her, her body supporting his and his being wrapped around her, his shoulders overwhelmed her much smaller frame.
Yumm, yumm. Maybe that’s what the Husker referred to. Stop it. Honestly, Laura, you have to stop this. You’re not 16, anymore, drooling over posters of pretty boy pilots…
Although, clearly, no one would refer to Bill Adama as a pretty boy. His features were too harsh, his skin potted and scarred. His eyes were the only beautiful thing about him, although they would certainly stand out anywhere. Otherwise… he wasn’t tall, she’d be his height or taller in any number of her heels, and while his body was… (Stop it!) ...he paled in comparison, physically at least, to any number of men she passed by on a daily basis.
It’s just that he was so masculine. The eyes, and the shoulders, and that voice… Damn it. I really need to get laid. As soon as the thought popped into her head, she regretted it, feeling the answering flush move through her body. Double damn it.
Meanwhile, while she was busy day dreaming, (and drooling like an idiot, probably), he had settled into his stance, balancing with the help of her support and that of the stick. She guessed he felt he was as steady as he felt he could be as he leaned into her.