Panicked curses seeped into the blondes unconsciousness, waking him further from the heavy grogginess. He blinked, unable to see through the surrounding darkness. It was eerily silent, exempt for the familiar Frenchman's shouting. Swimming through the blackness, Gregory scaled the area- a small one at that, until the curses became within arm's reach. Slowly reaching out a hand into the blackness, Gregory traced the area around himself until his hand was resting on a trembling shoulder. There was a shriek, and the body spun at the sudden contact, slamming his fist into the Brits jaw.
"Bloody hell, what was that for, Christophe?" Gregory spat, rubbing his cheek.
"Mon ami? Iz zat you, Gregory?" He heard the darkness question, it's voice shaking.
"Yes, it's me. Where are you?" Gregory once more reached forward, cautious not to startle the other. His hand danced in the darkness until it skimmed another hand, which he quickly grasped tightly. He felt the grip on his gloved hand tighten, making his fingers ache. "Ah, Chris?" Gregory gulped, laughing nervously. "Are you okay?" A faint cry escaped the frenchmans lip's, turning into fretful sobs. Gregory looked weakly into the black pool, searching for a face. "Christophe! Please, you must tell me if your hurt-"
"Gregory," Christophe choked out, his death grip on his companions hand slipping. "Gregory..." And with that, he fell to the blonde's feet, sobbing incoherently. Gregory tugged relentlously on the limp hand he still clutched, until he managed to yank the body onto his. Christophe collapsed onto the Brit's legs, mumbling French swears through hurt whimpers. Feeling his friends fists tighten around his thigh, Gregory continued pulling the other up until he has sucessfully moved him onto his lap. Slowly, he unattached their hands, moving to run his fingers through Christophe's messy brown locks. The sobs came to a hault, so Gregory stopped his simple act of affection until the whimpers remenced once again, forcing him to continue stroking his accomplice like a dog.
"Chris, you must tell me what ever is the matter. Your childish behaviour is not helping the situation, which brings me to ask- what is wrong?" Gregory asks lightly, moving his hands to Christophe's bare back, where he stops moving altogether. "Oh no," He remarks slowly, pulling their bodies apart. He hears a short sniff, and than once more the other breaks into sobs- very uncommon for himself. Gregory swallows heavily, and pulls Christophe back so his arms are around his neck. "They took your shovel, didn't they." He trys sadly, bringing him tighter to his own chest- also bare.
"Zey took zey only way out, Gregory!" Mole shouts, grabbing harshley on the blonde's thin shoulders. "Zey took my fucking shovel! Now we're going to fucking die!" He screams, shoving his captour further into the leather seat.
"Now Christophe, calm down-"
"I weel not calm down, Gregory! 'Ow dare you to tell me to calm down-" Christophe heard the sharp snap before the pain in his cheek came into focus, the warm handprint lingering on his face.'
"Get a fucking grip on yourself, you lunatic! Now explain to me why the fuck we're going to die!" Gregory hissed sharply, jabbing a finger against the mercenaries chest. "Tell me, or I will personally strangle you to death!" He added. Christophe shot up from the Brit's lap, banging his head against the low ceiling with a grunt.
"Do eet, Ami, you'll only be doing yourself a favour." He snarled, kicking to get away from Gregory.
"W...what do you mean-"
"Zey air is running out, Gregory. We are goeeng to die." Christophe states sadly. "Now shut eet, zey more you talk, zey less time we 'ave to leeve." Christophe stared into the blackness once more, searching for the other.
"Christophe," Gregory tried to find something comforting to say, but his mind was still foggy. "Christophe, where are we?" The mercenary was silent, filling the air with more nothingness. "God dammit talk to me!"
"We are een a car," Gregory can make out his words, though soft and lined in sniffles. "Twelve feet underground." Slowly tracing his hands along the seat, the Brit makes his way to a cupholder just in front of him.
"I see," He says, deep in thought. "Now that certinaly is a horrible perdicement."
"We're trapped in 'ere without my fucking shovel!" Christophe shouts much to loudly, filling the small space with an overwhealming echo. "'Ow can you be so fucking calm, eh?" Gregory sighed heavily, tapping his chin in thought.
"Well, as if it weren't already apparent, we're faced with death daily, so I don't see how this is much different than yestarday or the day before-"
"Iz different, because I 'ad my shovel wiz me." Mole drawled, clearly iritated.
"No, it's not that! What is it really, Chris?" Gregory demanded, pulling himself over the seats to stare where he assumed Christophe was sitting. At first, he didn't answer. The blonde waited in silence, until there was a long scratch, and a faint light appeared in the cloud of black. Christophe looked up at him, match in hand. "And blow that out, it'll suffocate us, my god!" Christophe smirked.
"Exactly." He smiled, lighting another. Gregory glared, smacking both from his grasp, shoving Mole against the dashboard.
"Why are you really that worried about being in a car twelve feet underground- besides dying, which I know you aren't scared of." Gregory barked, ramming his shoulder against the drivers seat, where Christophe was comfortably parked.
"Besides zat zey beeches took my cigarettes?" He joked, bringing an imaginary one to his lips and puffing hopefully. "Nothing."
"That's a lie."
"'Ow would you know, stupide?"
"Because! We were required to take courses on the human emotions! I know when you lie, stupide, and you should know to hide it a little better!" Christophe stared at the mercenaries shadow hidden face, glaring holes at him through the darkness. Gregory watched in silence as the brunette wiped a bloody arm across his cheek, clearing all tears that wouldn't even be visible to hide.
"You are smart, Ami. Now don't let me screw you over, oui?" Christophe said sternly, turning his back to the other. "Don't let me make zees 'arder, Gregory. Let eet be."
"Ah, but you see, that's the one thing I'm not good for, Chris." Gregory declared proudly, raising his brow. "So no, I shall not. Tell me, it will make it easier, you have to trust me, Chris. Please." He pleaded, dropping to his knees. Christophe glared into the black, wiping away more tears.
"I zoo not want to hurt you, Gregory." Christophe reasoned, quickly disguising an on coming sob as a cough. "And plus, zey air is disappearing quickly-"
"Save your breath making up excuses, and tell me why The Mole, almighty, badass mercenary is so upset about a predicament he's faced dozens of times already-"
"I've never 'ad to be in a predicament like zees, Gregory! You dot get eet!" Christophe barked, coughing immensely, hiding the rising fall of tears.
"I get that your scared, Chris, but why-"
"I'm not scared, I just wish you weren't here." He said sadly, sniffing.
"Well, I also wish I wasn't here at the moment-"
"You don't get it, Gregory, zis was my mission! Iz all my fault zat your going to die, 'ow could you not see zat?" Christophe was now far from wanting to hide the hiccups coming from his throat, the sobs nearly making it past there. "I made you come, I forced you to follow me to zey fucking heart of ze operation, and now I got us a fucking death sentence!"
"Chris, I wanted to come and help, so stop trying to pin this all on yourself." Gregory snapped.
"I would rather just hurt than have both of us suffer until death comes." Christophe's mutters darkly, turning back to the confused blonde.
"Christophe, you need to tell me, or we won't resolve anything." Gregory huffed, resting his elbow on the cup holder, letting his cheek fall against his palm. "Please, I just..." The Brit cut himself off when he heard the brunette wheezing, curled in a bawl against the seat. "C...Christophe?" Gregory choked out, his breath caught in his throat. When he tried to inhale one more, it became harder.
"Dammit. I thought we 'ad longer." Christophe spat, digging his nails into the leather seat. Gregory made his way to the Frenhman, breathing in short huffs. It was harder for Christophe to get his oxygen through muffled sobs he tried so despretly to cut off, earning him nothing but a lack of air. When Gregory was close enough to see the faint outline of Christophe, he snatched the discarded matchbox and struck a sliver of wood against the rough surface, earning him an orange flame flickering against the dust. Christophe ignored the action, and closed his eyes.
"Now tell me why you don't want me here." Gregory more or less demanded, sticking the jumping flame in his face. He brought his lids open, and held his breath. Clearly upset with the weak attempt, Gregory stuck the match under the brunettes unshaven face, causing a gasp of pain. "Dying isn't going to do much but make me lonely, Chris. Now tell me." Christophe peered Gregory's direction, and closed his eyes again.
"Do you really want moi to die feeling nothing but stupide?" Christophe asked harshly, coughing heavily towards the end. "Or maybe you do, 'ow would I know?"
"That's ridiculous, Chris, why would I..." Gregory attempted to receive air when his sentence cut itself off, but only got a gust a dizziness. "I would never..." Slowly, as if in a daze, Gregory slumped down into the passenger seat, eyes slipping closed.
"Gregory!" Christophe lunged weakly towards the other, holding his breath until he had to speak. "Come on, Gregory, please don't-" As soon as he was propped on top of the Brit, he made a desperate attempt at shaking the others shoulders to keep him conscious. "I swear to fucking god Gregory, if you close your eyes I'll-"
"Then just tell me, Christophe, before I can't open my eyes again." Gregory whispered, peeling his eyelids back.
"You know I can't, Gregory," Christophe said slowly, cloudiness fogging his vision. "You know I can't."
"Why? Are you scared of my answer?" Gregory tried half heatedly pulling, on a grin, although only he was aware of it. Christophe just blinked, unsure of how to answer.
"I...I-"
"Is that why you were scared? Because you were afraid of my answer to a silly little question?"
"Yes, Gregory!"
"Than it must have been pretty damn important for you to have been sobbing for nearly two hours straight!"
"Gregory-"
"You are just insane, bloody insane! What the hell is it, than?"
"Je te'aime!" Christophe howled, the air draining from his lungs with every word that dripped from his dry mouth. "Je te'Aime, Gregory." Gregory stared at the shadowy figure in shock, his insides aching. "And I am sorry." The Brit couldn't help but chuckle, despite the loss of air.
"Thats it, love? That's what you were scared about?" Gregory grinned, laughing lightly. Christophe sighed.
"Non. I was scared zat zey last words you heard would leave you disgusted." Christophe snarled, his eyes dropping. "And I'm sorry zat zey deed." Putting all effort into what he presumed would be his last movement, he wrapped his arms around the cold, dirty neck and tugged down, bringing their lips together. It burned. The last drops of oxygen filled their mouths with a sweet, final breath, before they separated in tears.
"But I'm not sorry that I came with you." Gregory whispered, collapsing beneath the other. Christophe shook his head, falling against the blonde.
"You should be."
"No, Christophe. I'm not." Gregory said with a weak frown.
"Why..." The brunette trailed off, his mind becoming twisted, his thoughts unclear, and his vision nothing but black.
"Because, I'm only sorry for not saying I loved you sooner."
A/N~ Hey luvies! That was sad. Aw. Yay! Guess what? Im in love with writing one shots! It's like an addiction! I have them literally piling over on my desktop, so there will be more to come! Anywhoo, please review! I love ya'll for doing so, and just for reading! Thanks! -M