The silence was deafening.
For a moment, nothing moved. Even their heavy breathing couldn't reach their ears, their minds unable to comprehend... Or maybe they were simply thinking too fast to take in the possible stimuli around them. Had anything dared to appear in that moment, there is no question that they would have been far too vulnerable; a state that they couldn't afford to linger in, not anymore.
The silence was pierced by a broken whisper.
"No..."
Evan twisted his face, a pitiful attempt to regain control over the wild emotions threatening to break free. It was a pointless task that only succeeded in making his face ache with a physical pain that his body could barely recognize, already made numb by the emotional emptiness that swept through him as his feelings came to a boiling point.
"No."
Evan spoke stronger this time, shaking his head in disbelief.
"No."
His hands slapped at the floor, sending clouds of dust to form in the air around him and consequently cascade down onto him, drenching his body in the liquid powder of the earth, his body appearing a mere mirage, as well it should be, in this desolate, dangerous place.
"No no no no NO!"
He continued to smack at the floor, dragging his body forward slightly from where he lay, as if it would change anything. He couldn't think. The fine dust that he had released from its compacted slumber floated lazily in the air, making it difficult to breathe; the turmoil of emotions sitting heavy in his chest already, its fingers woven tightly around his throat. He couldn't believe that this was happening, he couldn't help but rewind every part of the day, thinking that if he had done this, or if he had done that, that they wouldn't be stuck in this moment right now. This was all his fault. It had to be.
He quickly calmed down, tired by his sudden hysteria, a tantrum, he wished he could say, like one he had not experienced since he was a young boy, but truly, happened all too often. His forehead dropped to the floor, mindless of the dirt that now caked his face and body.
It was all his fault.
Maybe he should have let Colonel Hall take the Albertosaurus. Surely then this wouldn't have happened? The world would have changed, the timeline would have been rearranged, but wouldn't less people have been hurt? Brooke would still be alive, and he would never have hurt Ange by dragging her into all of this mess; Cross Photonics would have been a real company, not just a side project or a front to hide a ridiculous (and futile) hunt. Leeds would still be where he belonged, in some run-down office; a laughing stock. He wouldn't have had a chance to betray people, to be a liar, to lie to him. Mac... Mac wouldn't be... And Toby! Toby wouldn't be lying in a hospital bed fighting for her life. I wonder if the tail got to her in time... I hope so... I couldn't... I can't... If she... Sam... Bill... And Tony! Tony Drake. Good old Tony, someone who was his friend for so long, someone who believed in him. Another person Evan had dragged down, dragged to his death. He wouldn't have died, he would still be working, working with his partner, someone who he had adored like a daughter. God did Tony talk about her a lot; Dylan was the youngest of the predator control team and the apple of his eye (as he'd heard Mac say once). Dylan... Dylan!
Evan's head snaps up with a gasp, breathing in the dust-filled air and causing his throat to itch. He fights back the urge to retch as he frantically looks for his partner. He tries to call out for her, but chokes on the air instead and begins to cough. Squinting, he tries to find her, but the air surrounding him is still thick with fine dirt; the aftermath of his tortured soul.
He pushes himself to his knees, breathing heavily for a moment, and finally finds the courage in his fear to push himself up off the ground. Blinking quickly at the change, he finds his legs shaky, and leans upon them for support, terrified that if he fell, he would not be able to find the strength again to stand.
"Dylan!" Evan calls out, his throat now clear. He looks around, still light-headed, but spots no sign of her. Maybe... Maybe she got through... he dares to think, a flicker of hope burning within him. But that hope is quickly doused as he stumbles onward.
"Dylan!"
He hurries forward, his haste blurring his surroundings. The ground below him seemingly disappears beneath his feet, and he slips, slamming hard into the ground beneath him. Dazed, he rolls onto his front, the throbbing pain in his back pulsating with every heartbeat. He breathes heavily now, trying to clear his vision from the haze of the tears that slip from his eyes. He scrambles down the rest of the slope that now seemed so obvious, a tangle of hands and feet, falling beside his downed colleague.
"Dylan?" he murmurs unsurely, his hands hovering hesitantly over her. Pausing to glance behind him, as if expecting there to be someone there (there should be someone there, he should be there) Evan begins to run scenarios in his head. Looking back to his unconscious companion, he begins to assess her status.
Unconscious. Dirty. Blood.
Pulse, check.
Breathing, check.
He carefully rolls her onto her back and pushes her hair away from her face, his fingers smudging colour into life, as if paint on a canvas. Fresh blood. She's dirty, almost as dirty as he is, and the blood that stains the left side of her face looks much more menacing against her pale skin than those minor scratches she still sports from earlier in the day.
He gently runs his hand across her skin, looking for the wound, and sighs in relief when he finds it, already clotting, just past her hairline. He scans over the rest of her body, looking for any obvious wounds or broken bones, and finding none he leans back and begins to search his brain for answers, what now?
A glance to the sky confirms one of his fears, it's going to be dark soon.
He closes his eyes for a moment, trying to figure out how much time might have passed since it had happened. His watch, now cracked and useless, provides no help. He releases a heavy sigh once he realizes that he truly has no idea; desperation and fear beginning to cling to him.
He crawls back in close to Dylan and cups her face, calling out to her, hoping to rouse her.
'That's not going to work, y'know!'
Evan freezes as a familiar voice echoes through his head.
'She's knocked out Evan! She won't wake up until she's ready.'
He shakes his head, trying to ignore the distant voice. He doesn't want to think of her, to remember her. Not now. She's gone. The fact that he had just sent Brooke her death sentence doesn't stop him from checking behind him anyway.
The head in his hands begins to move, snapping Evan back into reality and back to his charge.
"Careful!" he worries as she twists out of his grip, rolling over in her haste to escape the shadow that lingers over her. Though somewhere she recognises that the shadow must be benevolent, or else she would already be dead, it does not stop her urge to flee as a tightness overtakes her.
Finally free, Dylan tries to push herself up with shaky arms which only give way beneath her, causing the shadow to return and drag their arms around her as painful coughs begin to wrack her body.
As the coughing gives way to retching, Evan pushes against her sternum from behind with one hand, holding her off the ground and pulls her hair back with the other, feeling positive in his prediction of what comes next. Sure enough, she begins to vomit, bringing back up the little food she had managed to consume in the morning, blissfully unaware of the horrors that the day would bring.
Giving her a few minutes to recover, he carefully moves himself from behind her and pulls her back. "Dylan, can you hear me?" he asks softly, lying her back down on the floor and crouching beside her.
She looks up at him blankly for a moment, before dropping her head to the side in relief, the shadow indeed being benevolent. "Dylan, don't do that," Evan says slowly, placing his hand underneath her head to raise it from the rough ground, aware that any aggravation of her cut would only make the situation worse.
"Ev'n," she mutters, waving her arm out to the side to grab at him. He uses his free hand to grab at hers, "Yeah, it's me. I'm here."
"Wh't happ'nd" she asks, her words slurred. "I think you've got a concussion," Evan responds, speaking loudly and clearly. He resists the urge to tilt her head up to look at him when he notices that she's still staring vacantly at his boots; it's hard not to fret.
He watches as she frowns and pulls at her bottom lip with her teeth. After a minute or so, she begins to speak again, but trails off. "Is'not what I..."
Evan sighs, realizing what she's asking.
"No, we... We didn't make it through the anomaly. We're stuck here for the moment, but we'll be ok, ok? I- You'll be ok." Noticing her lazy blinking, he begins to talk again. "Dylan, Dylan you need to stay awake, ok? Don't fall asleep on me now, we gotta get somewhere safe before it gets dark."
"I'm going to help you up, ok?"
He doesn't receive a response, but he didn't expect one. He delicately slides his hand out from under her head, placing it back on the floor. Shimmying back slightly, he places one knee on the ground for support and takes a firm grip under her arms. With a deep breath, Evan heaves Dylan up off the ground, standing in one fluid motion. "You ok?" he asks, one hand moving to rest at the back of her head, which fell limply to his shoulder.
It takes a moment for her to respond, "dun feel so good. Thisssucks."
He laughs. It's a short bark that holds no air of amusement, only relief. 'Complaining is good. Very good. More than good! I'd rather have her complaining than silent right now. Anything to let me know that she's gunna be alright... God I hope she's gunna be alright,' Evan thinks to himself.
"You think you can stand?" he asks her, doubtful. She pauses before answering unsurely, "yyy-es." He scoffs, turning his head to speak into her ear, "that didn't even sound convincing." She turns her head to look at him, "is that'a chall'nge?"
"Ordinarily, I would let you try and fail, but right now, this isn't the moment, so save your stubbornness for another time." Before she has a chance to retort, he swiftly moves his free arm under her legs and picks her up. As he had anticipated, she begins to squirm in his arms, pushing against his chest weakly, weaker than he would have liked.
Although he knows she isn't strong enough to escape from his hold, he sends her a pointed look anyway, clearly telling her to stop, silently asking her to save the little energy she has. She sighs and gives up, leaning into him. "What now?" she asks quietly. Evan can't help but notice the defeated tone in her voice and silently begs her to stay strong, it won't take much for him to give up if she does.
Gripping at her tighter, he begins to look around. "Next? Next we... We find... We find a tree, to hide in for the night and hope we don't come across any flying monsters or really big dinosaurs," he says, attempting to sound upbeat. "Or bugs," she mumbles, gripping onto his vest, fingers weaving through the material. "Or bugs," he repeats, resisting the urge to shiver at the memory. "Or pre'storic squirr'ls," Dylan continues.
Evan stops walking. "You're really not helping me stay positive right now Dylan," he says flatly. Looking down, he can't help but smile at the small smirk that sits on her face. There's a twinkle in her eyes that makes him think that maybe they'll be alright after all.
A distant roaring jolts them both out of their fitful sleep, the noise startling them even closer, despite already being squished together on a cluster of overlapping branches that seemed heaven-sent, if the sheer terror and despair that the fatigued man held by the time he found it in the falling darkness was anything to go by. Neither could see the other, the lack of stars making their situation seem even more foreign and frightening.
Evan pulls Dylan closer to him, his arm, previously held loosely around her waist, wrapping around her shoulder. Her numb fingers cling tightly to the material on his chest. He covertly runs his free hand over the branch beside him, stopping when he comes to familiar material, and checks that their self-made harness', made from what was previously their gun holsters, were still tight and in place.
"If you were cold you coulda just asked for one of my jackets," Dylan murmurs into his shoulder. He chuckles, leaning his head on top of hers. "I'm more of a body heat kinda man myself," he responds. They fall quiet again, the distant noises of the alien environment as a background.
Another roar breaks the silence, causing them both to grip the other even harder.
"We'll be ok," Evan reassures her, and himself, "we'll be ok."
She responds by snuggling even further into him, though impossible it seemed. He reciprocates the action by wrapping his other arm around her. "Jus' don't want you to be cold," she needlessly explains. Comforted by the heartbeat against her own, Dylan drops into sleep again, Evan following soon after.