*GAAASP!*

Red eyelids flew open as a gulp of air was sucked in. His vision was foggy and off-angle; he could hardly discern the wooden arches of the mold-caked ceiling and the demon eyes of little creatures that hissed at them from dark corners. Groans and whines are heard from somewhere and everywhere as they echo far and between; it isn't until the ringing in his head is depleted and his hearing is unmuffled that Blade Ranger realizes the noises are his own.

He freezes, holding his breath. They're his. Blade gave his rotor blades a bit of a shake before folding them neatly back behind him, as was his custom if he was ever indoors.

"Where am I?"

Blade tilted his nose up a bit, blinking, trying to glean as much information about his whereabouts as his eyesight could gather in the strain of his sudden blindness.

"Blade... just give yourself a chance to be happy..."

His eyes snapped wide open. The blur in his vision soon defogs itself. Nick? It's in his head. He could hear it pulsing and buzzing around.

"I'm beggin' ya... Please don't take it with you..."

Blade shut his eyes tight and seemed to shrink in on himself.

"Blade (Blade!)... I'm begging you...""

The, "…I'm begging you," suddenly sounded like it was coming from the right of him, as if a ghost had flung itself across the room. His eyes wildly followed the voice's location, and there next to him was a little red and white airplane, asleep and shivering.

"…You…" - was how he identified him, mumbling under his breath before closing his eyes again, the ache in his body making him grind his teeth.

After he peeled an eye open, he looked around to a little window that was being lashed at by rain and wind. He was alive. That much was apparent. But how did he end up here?

As if on cue, the images flashed back into his mind; the air crackling and growing hot all around him, and not long afterward being engulfed in a blinding flash of light and sent plummeting to the ground below. Him slowly struggling up with his rotor blades somehow miraculously intact with tree branches all stuck in them, full of cramp and pain as a horrified Dusty trembled and stared at him in wide-eyed disbelief.

"... Bl- Blade?"

"So he pulled me out of that." Blade sighed.

Blade's rotors twitched as a flash of lighting blazed through the window and lit the rotted-out wooden hangar. The air was musky and damp. He squinted over to the window once more. The sky thundered and the wind blustered; the storm was throwing a bad-to-worse tantrum. Dusty sneezed in sync with the last boom of thunder. The rain's shadows danced on his body as he snuggled deeper into himself. Blade watched him through a sideways glance before staring back ahead.

He ground his teeth together until they ached. He couldn't run out and battle the storm like he could a fire, and, as much as he lied to himself that he had the will-power to, could not leave the chevron-adorned racer alone and defenseless anyway. Blade Ranger's past forced him to carry a sin-repenting code of his own, beyond what he'd already taken on as a firefighter, and his pacts were as solid as the glares on his face.

An hour later, Dusty blinked his eyes awake. He paused in the middle of his yawning at the sight of a red helicopter hunkered down right beside him. He was a breath away from crying out in surprise, but was able to catch himself when the flashbacks of a certain Blazin' Blade Ranger nearly being blasted into oblivion hit him at full force.

"…Blade?" Dusty hoarsened out.

It was too much strain to bring his voice any louder, or any braver for that matter. Blade's rotors twitched a bit at the sound of his voice, and those eyes of his, the ones that sent a chill through Dusty's body for their iciness when they didn't blink, flitted open.

"…. Do you feel alright, Blade?"

Dusty moved around in front of Blade's face, who's expression didn't change.

"I'm fine."

His voice was like a shadow; low-keyed, husky, and nearly inaudible. Yet he still sounded vulnerable, too. Huh, vulnerable? Dusty thought idly. Well, with or without that questionable vulnerability, it was a voice he simply wasn't used to. Its smooth, baritone accent was deep enough to vibrate the molecules in the ozone, and was always a stale deterrent to chip your intimidated glance at. Even with the obvious hint that he was ignoring him right now, Dusty smiled, despite how tight and dry he was in the mouth.

"Well that's a relief," Dusty sighed, "I thought you were gonna die for sure, at first…"

Blade let his rotor blades fully unfold, stretching them before folding them back again, and Dusty, fascinated, tilted his body a bit to the side. The temptation to forget who they belonged to and try to reach up to nose one of them made him mentally bop himself over his canopy.

"Well, don't worry yourself too much," Blade grumbled; his decision to suddenly speak making Dusty jump. "Gonna take a lot more than a little lightning or hypothermia to kill me."

"You sure about that?" And Dusty was embarrassed by how shy and quiet he sounded, but talking to Blade was still such a bizarre exchange of conversation. Their voices, they...they just weren't in tune. "You were hyperventilating on and off..."

Blade slowly turned toward him. Dusty didn't breathe in the same way Blade didn't blink, and the suspense was killing him. Blade broke it.

"...How long has it been?"

His voice rasped like something was scratching at the walls of his throat. Its tone was weak and craggy, dying even. That bolt of lightning had fried him good alright.

"...Huh? How long what? How long have we been trapped in a drippy hangar, or how long were you hyperventilating?"

"Since we've been in the hangar." Blade asked louder, the embarrassment of his weakened state stirring into self-conscious anger.

"Oh..."

Blade waited. Dusty cleared his throat. Blades rotors ruffled slightly.

"Uh, I don't really know. Hours I guess." Dusty yawned.

The raze of light in Blade's blue eyes disturbed him; it was difficult to tell whether it were soft, hard, violent, or contemplating. Either way, his stare took effect. The silence stepped in again when Dusty didn't ask for it. He wasn't fond of long breaks and pauses in between conversations, or the intensifying, possibly confused-stuck-between-infuriated stare he was getting from Blade. The anti-social air from the second party never discouraged Dusty Crophopper, of all chatter-boxes, to pause in the middle or end of a chat. Though, as quiet as Blade was, his air hung like a heavy weight of bricks on top of natural gravity, and it silenced him into intimidation. He wasn't scared of him, at least he thought he wasn't. He was just awkward with him, and couldn't understand why. He wasn't the kind of person to be shut up so easily, and though Blade's sometimes corrosive energy was overwhelming, he should be no exception. Dusty's eyes widened and he leaned back when he realized the red helicopter had not stripped his gaze from him.

"S...Stop looking at me like that. It's...it's rude to stare, you know!"

On a Dusty-basis, he'd say that with a bit more attitude, but this time, his throat was trembling and had failed to sound tough. The trademark cleft in Blade's brow scrunched in more, making the frown more of an insulted scowl. He closed his eyes, raising up higher on his wheels before swinging away from Dusty. Dusty, however, couldn't quite cotton on to why he was moving away from him with a seemingly ruder mannerism, but because of their awkward connection, held back from shooting off on him.

Then Blade began coughing. Just one or two little ones that slowly grew in magnitude and frequency. One cough after another expectorated out of Blade until all of the sudden he was forced to the ground.

"Blade?" Dusty sat still, torn between going to his aid or keeping his distance. "Are you... okay?"

Once he got the courage to take part in the latter, with him attempting to brace up against his side, Blade spun away from him and used the hangar's wall for support instead of him. He began hacking and spitting up a dark, oily fluid and didn't stop for a while, and Dusty clenched tighter and tighter into himself with each smat that hit the floor. He thought he might be sick, but not from the image of the sickly, blackish brown fluid coming up, but from the image of Blade in agony. The hemming and hawing slowed, but he was still harrumphing every now and then, putting Dusty's caring sensitivity on edge. He said not a word, and waited for him to confirm himself that he was okay.

"...You... pulled me in this weather?"

Blade remained turned away from him; only the thunderstorm destroying the forest outside the window had the privilege of seeing his expression now. Dusty tilted a bit at the way he said it; the cuteness of the action not entirely missed.

"Pushed, pulled. Of course I did. How else did you get here?"

Blade Ranger glanced sideways over at him, and Dusty was up high onto his landing gear, hoping he'd say something so he could talk more and encourage him to be himself again. Blade's eye seemed to consider him and perhaps respect the attention he craved, but then just like that, he veered away back around to the window. Dusty sagged back down again.

Blade was miles away from him. Their worlds didn't touch, and their connection was blank. It was neither friendly, hateful, or even 'other.' Dusty was the type who made roots, relationships and connections with anyone whether one-sided or love/hate, and though he had a root she shared with Blade, they did not twine together, and it made him feel awkward, insecure, and mildly unsure of him. The dilemmas in their current state of affairs is what made this so, for he had been sure of the subtle chemistry that had quietly sprang up between the two after his accident during his first year at the Piston Peak Air Attack base.

"Hmm..."

Blade didn't turn. Dusty could smell him from the short distance between the two; he'd taken an unconscious whiff when he'd sighed and sank down into his landing gear earlier. Wet bark, pine needles, the soil, moss, his own body heat making all the smells musty and mix with his own scent.

"... Blade?" Dusty gave one final attempt.

He never made a sound. Not one. His expression never changed; he hardly even blinked. He only watched as Dusty moved away from him and lowered himself to the ground to try and get some sleep, because, in all this time of his staring,

...What could I have said?

Holy CRAP dude, that was hard. I've never written anything for Blade EVAR. But I'm gonna post it anyway. *shields head from the coming onslaught of bricks*

AN: Dusty is in his firefighter livery for this, but in his usual landing gear because I'm lazy and have two minutes until I literally need to be in bed for work tomorrow.