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“Oh shit, that really hurts.”
Sam is by your side in an instant, crouching and helping you into a sitting position in the grass. “Don’t try to move. Let me see.” His face is pinched, brows knitted together.
In the distance the large alien creature thunders off, satisfied with the damage it’s done. One horn stained red.
You lift your hand slowly, palm covered in blood. Your blood. Sam sucks in a harsh breath before stopping himself. His reaction wasn’t what you’d hoped for. “Is it…is it bad?” The idea of looking at the wound in your abdomen makes your stomach churn. The leather of his jacket wrinkles under your iron tight grip.
“It’s not good.” He murmurs, pressing his own hands on top of yours. They’re warm, a different kind of warm than what’s currently leaking out of you. “But you’re tough, you’ll be ok.” He repeats himself under his breath. “You’ll be ok.”
The added pressure on the wound makes you groan in pain. You lay back, the short grass of the clearing pricks at your exposed skin. Grey clouds release tiny raindrops that dot your face, but you don’t notice. The wet feeling around your stomach spreads, causing your clothes to stick to your skin.
The pain continually ramps up and you’re gasping for air as you speak. “Being impaled by a space cow wasn’t on my to-do list today.”
Sam can’t help himself from chuckling nervously as he looks around, scanning for cover. “Was it ever on your to-do list?”
You grit your teeth, but the corners of your mouth still curl slightly. “Don’t be sassy with me, I’m dying.”
“You’re not dying today, not if I have anything to say about it.” His eyes lock onto a cave in the nearby cliffside. “It’s starting to rain, we’re gonna have to move. There’s a cave nearby—I’ll carry you. Keep putting pressure on it.”
His hands are gone, taking their warmth with them, and a moment later he’s doing his best to carry you bridal style. Being moved intensified the pain and you bit down hard on your lip to stop from crying out. The surrounding landscape spins nauseatingly.
Sam was hurrying, holding you close to him as he ran, your face pressed into the crook of his neck. He could feel your faint breath on his skin. Heavier rain drops splashed against the brim of his hat. He glanced down at you to see your eyes pinched shut. Just under your arms he could see the blossoming stain of red. Sam avoided looking at it, for his own sake, focusing on getting you out of the rain instead.
“Almost there.” He pants. Panic and fear threatened to overwhelm him more than the physical strain ever could.
“Cross the threshold and we’re married.” You whisper into his neck. If you hadn’t been that close, he wouldn’t have heard you.
His heart skips a beat. “What?”
You were struggling to speak. Sentences coming out broken and separated by breaths. “Read it in a book Cora gave me about—old Earth customs. People—used to cross the threshold of their home—and that would be their marriage custom.”
“So, you’re telling me you want us to get married in a cave?” He jokes lightly.
Your returning laugh is breathy, almost as if you’re falling asleep. “We’re cave people.”
He sets you down on the rocky ground. Your face twists in pain and your blood-stained hands ball up. Your arms are covered in it too. The air is noticeably cooler inside and the light from the entrance is bright enough for Sam to see what he’s doing.
He very quickly tears into his bag looking for medical supplies, all the while trying to talk and keep you talking. With most of his focus on helping you, he says whatever comes to mind. “We’re not going to get married in a cave. I’m gonna take you to Akila city and marry you there. Mayor Cartwright will say something sappy, and we’ll laugh.”
His eyes flicker to your face to see you expressionless. Eyes closed. “Hey, hey, stay with me.”
It takes a moment for you to respond. “…still here.” You’re fighting for breath now. “Sounds nice.”
“What sounds nice?” He asks, pulling out bandages and a trauma pack.
“Getting married in Akila.”
Dear Lord, did he actually say that? Sam’s face flushes red. “I—I hope that’s not too soon, or weird, or—” oh, he was fucking this up big time. “Let’s just forget I said anything, I’m rambling.”
He can hear your lungs slowly pulling in air as you try to speak. “Death bed proposals are so romantic.”
“Sarcasm at a time like this?” Sam’s smile threatens to break through. “You’re killin’ me.”
“Not my best joke—I’ll admit that.”
Ripping the lower half of your shirt, Sam’s fingers are as gentle as can be against your searing skin. Part of his brain chastises him for not asking permission to touch you, while the other half is euphoric at the fact that he is in fact touching you. Sam blinks hard, attempting to clear his mind and focus.
Your abdomen is covered in blood, and he does his best to wipe it away to get a clear look at the wound. It’s not as bad as he originally imagined, small but deep. You’d need to see a doctor after this, but at least he could stabilize you for now.
He pulls out gauze, pressing it down, and wraps bandages around you—eyes flickering up to your face every few seconds. After injecting you with a trauma kit he sits back, hands still pressed on you, but gentler now. “How’s that, better?”
You sigh with relief as the pain fades, the medicine coursing through and doing its job. Your hand finds his and gives it a weak squeeze. “Yeah. Much better.”
“I’m going to radio the ship, have them land closer to us. I’ll be back in a second.” His hand lingers as if he’s fighting with himself.
Outside, the rain is pounding. He stands at the mouth of the cave watching it come down as he calls the Frontier. The amount of blood on his hands makes him pause. They’re soaked with it; his shirt and jacket are too. He’ll be washing out the calloused grooves of his hands for an hour, at least. How close did he come to losing you? The thought makes his entire body tense.
“Frontier, come in.”
“We read you, Sam.” Sarah’s voice crackles over the radio.
“Captain’s injured, we need an immediate evac. Sending our location now.”
“Received. Hang in there, we’re on our way.”
Sam shuts off the radio and makes his way back over to you. Some of the color has returned to your face, and as far as he can tell the bleeding has stopped. He kneels next to you, feeling for a pulse on your neck. It’s steady and growing stronger. He might’ve imagined it, but you seemed to lean into his touch.
“You still with me?” he asks, voice half a whisper.
“Always.” You reply softly, drifting in and out of sleep.
He cups your face in his palm and leans forward to press a kiss to your forehead. As your breathing pattern changes to slow and steady, Sam smiles, leaning his forehead against yours. “Our wedding in Akila is going to be beautiful.”