For one terrifying second, Larimer Finch was certain that he was about to die.
Until that instant, the thought had truly never crossed his mind. From the moment he had walked into his room and discovered it ransacked to just a few minutes earlier when the bullet had gone through his arm, not once had he actually thought that he might die. Somewhere, deep in his mind, he had been certain that he would find a way to escape, to get away like he always had before.
Everything had changed in the blink of an eye.
Now he was hanging onto the chasm's edge with all his might, his good arm quickly going numb as he tried to keep his grip on the crumbling dirt and rocks. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't get the thought out of his head. I'm going to die.
As his fragile grip slipped, Finch suddenly heard a familiar voice calling his name. It sounded as if it was coming from a few inches away as well as a great distance, both at the same time.
"Finch, hang on!"
More rocks crumbled under his fingers, quiet echoing sounds bouncing around him as they fell downward. Finch could feel his grip slipping again. He took a deep breath, trying to prepare himself for the fall he knew was coming. I'm going to die.
Without warning, two strong arms grabbed him, and through the haze that had begun to converge around the edges of his vision Finch saw Jared Stone's face drifting about him. Blinking a few times to assure himself that his tired mind wasn't playing tricks on him, he weakly gripped the marshal's arm and allowed himself to be pulled out of the seemingly bottomless pit.
Barely even away of the supporting arm Stone had placed on his shoulder, Finch took a few gasping breaths before attempting to choke out what he hoped were lighthearted words. "I guess pride does go- before the fall."
Stone let out a quiet chuckle, though Finch was fairly certain it was as half-hearted as his own attempted humor, and carefully pushed the detective to his feet. Biting his lip as his exhausted body protested, Finch forced himself to stumble forward. His heart was still racing, his mind still halfway convinced that he was still dangling helplessly above the chasm.
"Which way do we go?" Finch asked weakly. It took almost everything he had to keep his voice from breaking as he spoke.
Though his eyesight was once again blurring, he still saw the fond smile that appeared on Stone's face for just a moment. The marshal kept his arm wrapped protectively around Finch's shoulder, supporting him and forcing him to walk forward at the same time.
"This way, Finch," Stone said, taking a few steps forward. Finch had no choice but to stumble along with him, the marshal's strong grip the only thing keeping him from falling flat on his face. "Let's get both of us home."