Author Rambles: Greetings my lovies! Thank you all ever so much for the feedback! I wasn't too sure how this would go down but thank you all for all the kind words. You've made a girl very happy. Go raibh maith agat!

Warning: Contains swearing – blame Baird and Marcus, and injury-related gore. Yum.

Disclaimer: Sadly, I don't own Gears of War. Not even a little Lancer or a tiny grenade. It's sad, but what can you do.


Beddy Byes

In which Damon Baird realises why he needs a good night's sleep – Marcus won't always be there to save him.


"Fucking…Hell…!"

"Just stay still. This is going to hurt like a bitch, but I'll be as quick as I can!"

"Is that…What you said to Anya …Last night?" Baird snickered feebly, gasping again for breath. Even though he had been shot in his shoulder, it still hurt like hell every time he breathed in, his ribs protesting as well as his injured shoulder. Marcus told himself not to lose his temper with an injured man, but damn, it sure wasn't easy.

The blonde whimpered, struggling weakly as Marcus prised the wad of bloodstained bandages off and immediately clamped his hand on the profusely bleeding wound. He glanced at the younger man.

"You ready?"

Baird shut his eyes again. "Just do it…Already." Marcus smiled grimly. He had done this procedure too many times, more than he wanted to recall. It had also been performed on him. Not for the first time did he wish that all Gears could carry morphine in their medi-kits, but since the miraculous drug was now in limited supply and in huge demand in the hospital, Gears no longer had the luxury of injecting either themselves or their squad mates with the drug. It meant more hellish pain to deal with, and Marcus knew from experience that what he was going to do hurt more than most.

"Alright. This will hurt." He warned again, and before Baird could say anything in reply Marcus stuck a finger into the open wound and began to dig around for the bullet. At this fresh onslaught of pain, Baird lost the battle to stay quiet and cried out. The agony and the sheer panic made him lash around weakly. Marcus took no notice, and instead pressed most of his body weight on the blonde, making it harder for him to move. He needed the younger man to stay as still as possible; it would make hunting for the bullet easier and hopefully quicker. But it still was a nasty son of a bitch, this little bullet.

"Shit." Marcus muttered, feeling his hands begin to slip around the bloody shoulder. The bullet had gone in further that he had expected. He pushed his thumb into the bleeding wound to aid his finger, and resumed the search. Every so often he would check the blonde to see how he was doing. He had grown paler if that had been possible, and his breathing was strained. Marcus knew he had to hurry up. He didn't want Baird to go into shock on him.

"Come on, you little bastard. Come out to play…" Marcus growled furiously, as he had to delve even deeper into the shoulder. He glanced at the younger man again, who appeared to have slipped into unconsciousness. He hoped so – it meant he wouldn't have to experience any more pain - but Marcus decided to check anyway. Better safe than sorry, after all. So it was with surprising gentleness that Marcus shook Baird's other – uninjured - shoulder.

"Baird? You good?" He asked, watching as Baird's eyes began to lightly flutter and open. He peered at Marcus groggily, but his face was taut with pain.

"Course I'm…Good. Fucking brilliant…" He muttered, his voice alarmingly faint to Marcus' ears. The older man looked at his unwilling patient, a drop of sympathy present in those fathomless blue eyes.

"Just hang in there. I'm almost done." The lie left his mouth with unexpected ease. He was no where near being done – he hadn't even found the bullet yet, let alone gotten in out. But he knew from countless years' worth of battles and dishing out emergency aid that it as always better to lie and say everything was okay to your fallen comrade.

Even if it always wasn't.


"Baird!" Marcus called out, slinging his Lancer off his shoulder and getting ready to aim. He spared his fallen solider a glance. Baird was lying on the ground, swearing violently and clutching his left shoulder with both hands. His gun was lying a few feet away from him. In other words, he was currently defenceless. Sighing, Marcus slowly edged his way towards the younger man, all the time keeping his eyes peeled for that elusive sniper. Well, that was what he assumed had fired on them.

The silence had returned to the clearing after the initial shot had been fired. Marcus guessed that the plan was to try and lure him out from his cover and into the open and then have a shoot out. He guessed that they had shot Baird knowing that he, the Sergeant would be forced to leave cover to help him. Marcus frowned, a few choice words leaving his mouth. So far he could see nothing, but as it had just recently been proved, that didn't mean that nothing was out there. His icy blue eyes narrowed in concentration as he crept alongside the burnt out truck. His hold tightened on his Lancer. He could fire a few shots into the foliage to get them moving, hopefully giving him enough time to get to Baird and drag his idiotic ass into cover.

"Baird!" He hissed, watching as the blonde scrabbled for his gun. "Keep your head down! There's a sniper out there!" Even getting shot however didn't seem to render the blonde's attitude obsolete in any way, because he rolled his eyes at his leader's suggestion.

"No shit." He hissed back, gun now in hand. Now it was Marcus' turn to roll his eyes as he watched Baird slowly try to crawl towards him and cover. The younger man was using his right arm to drag himself along the ground, while his left arm hung limply at his side. He had only a few more feet to go when there was a hail of shots fired. Marcus swore, rolled out of his cover and began to fire back.

"Get behind me you dumbass!" He roared to Baird over the noise of the fire fight. Baird managed to aim with his gun and fired several shots in front of him to act as a distraction whilst he neatly rolled over into the safety of cover. Marcus ducked as several bullets whizzed over his head and shoulders, before taking careful aim and firing. A cry from deep in the foliage told him he had reached his target, making him smile grimly. He fired a few more times, before ducking to reload. Several shots rang out over his head, before another deathly silence fell in the clearing.

Marcus slid a new round into his gun, before turning to face the blonde hunched beside him. Baird had dropped his gun at his side and was wincing in apparent pain. Marcus was tempted to mutter something along the lines of, 'I told you so' but decided against it. It wasn't right to say something like that. Well, not yet, anyway. Once he had checked out Baird's injury he maybe would. But first he had to alert Control. He pressed his hand to his earpiece.

"Control? This is Patrol Four. Do you copy?" He barked, hearing only static. "Control, we have engaged with what we assume is hostile Stranded. Requesting an Evac team asap. Do you copy? Control?" Marcus dropped his hand with a frustrated sigh. "Damnit!" He looked at Baird who shook his head.

"Their transmissions could be down. Or it's your earpiece. I'd try mine, but…" His voice trailed away as he pointed at a little black lump on the ground beside him, "It kinda got broken out there."

"Not the only thing that did." Marcus said dryly. "Let me see your shoulder." His gaze dropped to the injured shoulder in question. He swore when he saw the patch of spreading blood on Baird's clothing. "Shit, you're bleeding." His eyes narrowed, looking closer at the wound.

"Wow, thank you for that wonderful medical observation, Doctor Fenix." Baird replied sarcastically. "You're really wasted in your current profession." Marcus told himself to count to ten and remember to breathe deeply.

"Even when you're shot you have a mouth on you, Baird." He said, peering around for any signs of upcoming activity. It was still quiet – he assumed that the Stranded were giving medical attention to their own injured comrade. Marcus decided to do the same. He reached forward; grasping Baird's left shoulder in his powerful hands, ignoring the wince of pain that escaped the younger man's mouth. He tore open Baird's combat vest to see that his shoulder was beginning to bleed heavily. Marcus swore again.

"Next time, when I tell you to get into cover, you get your ass into cover." He ordered, digging around in his medi-kit for a handful of bandages. "You just stood there, you moron. Not even rooks do that!" He firmly pressed a few of the bandages on top of the bleeding wound, while Baird bit his lip just as firmly in order to prevent himself from crying out. Like hell would he let Fenix see him in pain. His shoulder was beginning to throb unbearably and his good doctor really wasn't helping matters.

"How many do you think are out there?" He asked the older man, determined to change the topic from his fuck-up minutes before. Marcus knew fine rightly what Baird was up to, but decided that there would be plenty of time after they got out of here for him to pull Baird up on his conduct.

"I don't know. I'm guessin' around four or so; only that amount could all hide behind the trees and bushes over there. Any more and we'd have seen them." Marcus removed his hands from the wad of bandages. "Hold them there. I'll put on a few more in a minute." He ordered, before picking up his Lancer and carefully looking over the truck. So he didn't see Baird pulling a face at his back as he held the bandages in place. Instead he caught a tiny glimpse of a man moving through a gap in the bushes, and his eyes narrowed. Marcus carefully took aim, and pulled the trigger. There was no scream this time as the man just slumped over, blood pooling around him from a bullet to the head. Marcus turned to face Baird.

"Make that three now." He said chuckling. Baird rolled his eyes, and reached for his gun. Marcus put his foot on the weapon before Baird could reach it. "What do you think you're doing? Do you want to bleed out?"

"I'm not just gonna sit on my ass here while you wax lyrical about your kills, Caveman." Baird scowled, withdrawing his arm with a barely-concealed whimper. Marcus was about to tell him in no uncertain terms that he was to sit back and do fuck all when a relentless hail of bullets were fired from ahead. Marcus ducked his head quickly, but one still grazed the side of his face. Many more began to bounce with a pinging noise of the side of the metal truck.

"Go get them, tiger." Baird muttered dryly over the sound of the firing and Marcus didn't even bother to reply. He edged his way to the front of the truck, firing in retaliation every so often. He decided his best means to get at the Stranded was to try to lure them out. But how? Then an idea struck. Reaching around his waist, he carefully plucked a single grenade from where he had had it clipped and held it out in front of him.

Oh, yes. This would work.


Marcus was still searching for the bullet that had prised and hidden itself in the shoulder of one Damon Baird. He forced his fingers to dig around a little deeper, and ignored the faint whimper that was coming from the injured blonde. Marcus knew he had to hurry. This bullet was lodged deeper than what he had expected, and was doing more damage too. The sooner he could pull it out and stop the bleeding the better. He spared a glance at the blonde.

"Baird, hang in there." The younger man stirred faintly, his eyes briefly opening before closing again. He tried to move away but Marcus placed his other hand upon Baird's other uninjured shoulder, gently but firmly holding him in place. He understood what was happening – whenever a man was in a shitload of pain, eventually he will act on naught but instinct. And instinct was telling Baird that Marcus was causing him more pain than what he could cope with. And that the thing to do was to simply get away from the source of the agony. Marcus remembered with a frown a time when it had happened to him. He shook his head. Not fond memories. Looking at Baird again, he realised he had to hurry. He began to hunt around again. There was another whimper.

Marcus didn't think he could ever get used to hearing something like that leave Baird's lips. He had never thought he would see Baird so… Vulnerable.

"Nearly done."

"…Said that…Five minutes ago…" Marcus looked down to see Baird looking at him blearily; accusingly. He had to crack the smallest of smiles.

"Sorry. Didn't know I had to keep to your schedule." He muttered dryly. Baird snorted weakly, wriggling around once more and hissing. He looked at Marcus, his own blue eyes looking a tad unfocused.

"How bad?" He asked. Either Baird decided to keep being as blunt as he normally was, or he didn't have enough strength to form long and coherent sentences. Marcus didn't know which it was, but decided not to answer. He had a job to do, anyway.

Blood was all over Baird's neck and shoulder and was trickling down his chest now. Marcus really hoped Baird wouldn't pass out on him. He didn't want to drag his ass around.


Ducking to avoid a particularly close call with one of the metal bastards flying at him, Marcus started to swing the grenade. Faster and faster. He kept swinging the weapon as he left his cover and eventually released it, watching its journey in front of him. Marcus was rolling neatly back into his cover when the grenade went off with a deafening boom along with mingled screams that seemed to shatter the whole area surrounding them. There was silence.

"Did you get them all?" Baird whispered harshly, risking a quick peep over the truck. He couldn't see any movement; all was still once more behind the foliage. He looked at his squad leader, his blue eyes narrowing. "You're bleeding now, Fenix."

Marcus raised a hand to pat the side of his face and saw that it did indeed come away lightly spattered with blood drops. He shrugged, deciding the cut was nothing to be concerned with. He too peered ahead, fingers tightening on his Lancer.

"I think I got them all. But I'm gonna make a sweep to be sure." He grumbled in reply to the younger man. He looked Baird up and down while he reloaded quickly.

"You doin' okay there?"

Baird snorted, awkwardly shuffling around to get into a more comfortable position. He was never going to live this one down. He had gotten himself shot by a Stranded and Fenix had had to save his ass. He hadn't been able to fight back, meaning Marcus had gotten to do all the fun. And his shoulder was starting to friggin' hurt. Fenix was never going to let him forget this.

"I'm doing just fine, Doc." He muttered sarcastically, wincing slightly as the pain coursing through his injured shoulder moved up the meter by one. Marcus stared at him for another second in that creepy way he had, the one where he seemed to see all and know all, but did not actually say anything. Baird met his gaze, but then dropped his head. Which, incidentally, was also killing him.

He was so mad at himself.

Marcus dipped a brief nod to the younger man before sprinting from the burnt out truck to a large mound of dirt, all the time keeping his eyes peeled for any possible signs of Stranded. His sharp eyes and hearing felt on edge, and seeing that so far the area was clear, he sprinted ahead to the remains of what had been the cover of the Stranded. The smoke had cleared to reveal a crater in which a bloody body lay inside. Another body was to be found near Marcus' right.

He spared a glance around him. From what Marcus could see, their attackers had been killed care of his grenade. He was about to turn around and run back when he heard a low murmur. Marcus' eyes narrowed. Apparently one of them had survived.

Moving quietly forward – he didn't want to let the lone Stranded hear his coming and perhaps arm himself – Marcus peered forward and discovered a young man lying down, bloody and gasping. Death was already upon him, Marcus decided. There was no need to view him as a potential threat. He lowered his Lancer, but only by a few inches. Marcus was nothing if not constantly alert. The Stranded was tossing and turning as he struggled to breath and it was as he turned his head that he caught sight of the battle-hardened veteran. His eyes widened, but soon formed a faint yet murderous glare.

"You…You…Bastard…" The words were gasped and mauled by the rivets of blood pouring from the young man's mouth. "You…Killed…Them-"

"You attacked us. Injured one of my men." Marcus cut the young Stranded off with ease, his blue eyes stormy. "You killed a Gear last week, you and your friends. And you call me a bastard." He finished dryly, crouching down low to be face-to-face with the dying Stranded. He could not feel any pity for this man, how could he? Men fighting fellow men when they should be banding together to ensure humanity's survival…Marcus found himself shaking his head slowly, his icy eyes never leaving the Stranded's pale face.

"You lot…Filthy…Treat us like animals…We were…Right to try…To kill you…" The man began to choke violently on his own blood. Marcus remained stony-faced and impassive.

"I hope…You go…To Hell!" The Stranded moaned angrily, struggling desperately to breathe. More blood poured from his mouth. Marcus merely rolled his eyes and with a single and fluid movement raised his Lancer and fired.

"I'll see you there." Marcus rumbled, standing up and turning his back on the now-silent Stranded. A shot to the head does that to a person.

Marcus sprinted back to the burnt-out truck, all the time on the lookout for any more hidden Stranded. He really must have killed them all now, for there were no shots as he ran. He eventually reached his cover and crouched down to face Baird.

"Ah, the Master Hunter returns." The younger man smirked, his hand still prised firmly to his shoulder. It didn't escape Marcus' notice that the younger man was paler and shakier that what he had been several moments before. His eyes narrowed.

"Let me see your shoulder." He said, and seeing that Baird opened his mouth, ready and willing to protest as always, he glared. "That's an order, Baird." Baird rolled his eyes but allowed Marcus to move over and take command.

Marcus removed the mess of bandages he had pressed on the bleeding wound and was greeted with more blood. He swore and began to examine the injury, causing Baird wriggle and protest loudly.

"Ow! Go away!"

"Shut up, Baird!" Marcus muttered in reply. In a sense, he thought, Baird really did deserve to get shot. The asshole had been such a moron out there it had been unbelievable. Call it Karma, just deserts – whatever you wanted, but it was still there.

"Will you stop poking me! That fucking hurts!" Baird found himself whining as his pain meter started to rise yet again. He bit his lip furiously, holding in the moans that had already formed in his throat.

"I'll make it hurt more if you don't shut the fuck up and let me work!" Marcus threatened darkly, and Baird, who did not like the idea of experiencing even more pain at this current moment in time, reluctantly did so.


"S-s-s-sore." Baird slurred, barely audible. Marcus spared him a just quick glance, before continuing with his work. Judging by the way the blonde was starting to shake, Marcus suspected that shock was started to kick in. Which, funnily enough, was not a good thing to happen right about now.

And he didn't want to have to listen to a Baird who was in shock bitching. He didn't know if he could take it.

Marcus went into overdrive, remembering age-old lectures: Staunch the area where the blood is being lost from. He dug around again, all the time swearing under his breath. This bullet was a real pain in the ass; it just didn't want to be found. But he kept going. And like they say, 'fortune favours the bold' for suddenly Marcus' fingers closed around a little metal object. He pulled, and eventually lying in his bloodstained hand was the bullet. A shadow of a smile covered his scarred face. Pressing a hand down firmly over the still-bleeding wound, he turned to the blonde.

"I got it." He rumbled in his deep tones, prompting Baird's eyes to flicker open and once again he seemed to have trouble focusing. Everything seemed blurry. And so goddamn gray. He winced slightly, feeling waves and waves of nausea and pain threaten him.

"S'good." He muttered, his eyes feeling unreasonably heavy and his throat unreasonably thick. Baird forced himself to focus on Marcus only…Only there seemed to be two of them now. And two Fenix's were two too many. Which one had talked to him? Baird had no idea. "S'too many." He heard himself saying, and was annoyed to hear how weak his voice sounded.

Marcus stared for a minute, trying to decipher whatever the hell Baird was attempting to say before deciding that yes, he really was going to have to hurry the hell up and patch this dipshit up. He allowed the bullet to drop to the ground and began to hastily pull out more bandages and press them on the wound. He could feel the weak and thread-like pulse at the base of Baird's neck, and pressed with more force than what was probably deemed necessary. To Marcus' own skin, the younger man's felt cold and clammy. He found himself swearing violently under his breath. Damnit, it was only a shot to the shoulder. You recovered from things like that. Marcus had seen men take injuries like that and be up and around within a week. Yet…There was no denying that Baird had lost a lot of blood. He only had to look at his hands and Baird's torn vest to see that.

"Damnit, Baird." He grumbled, pressing more bandages against the wound. It wasn't letting up, and Baird was still shaking. His eyes were rolling in the back of his head which prompted Marcus to give the blonde a shake. "Come on, Baird. Don't switch out the lights yet. I sure as hell ain't carryin' you around." Baird coughed, slowly shaking his head. His eyes closed once more.

"Switch out…Lights. S'too bright." He muttered, blinking widely. His tongue felt so heavy and thick in his mouth, and he was desperately thirsty. Like, desert-in-your-damn-mouth thirsty. He wondered if they were in a desert. There was no water after all. But it was cold, too cold. Deserts were warm. But cold at night. Was it night? Baird forced his eyes open again to peer around. It was all too damn gray to tell. And now everything was going all fuzzy. He looked up to see a lot of Marcuses staring grimly at him. The blonde snickered faintly before coughing again. "S-s-s-some bad…Dream. You're ever-everywhere." Marcus found himself rolling his eyes even as his concern upped a notch.

"Yeah. Sure I am." He said to humour the blonde, beginning to tie the bandages around the injured shoulder. He began to think quickly about what options he had open to him. Baird could walk, maybe. If Marcus was to support him then they could make it back to base and then get Baird to the medical tent. Then after looking at how…Helplessly weak Baird was now – something he still wasn't used to seeing - that plan just seemed to fly out of the window. Marcus shook his head with a frustrated sigh. That wouldn't work. He would need to think of something better. Hoping against hope, he pressed a finger to his earpiece again.

"Control? Do you read me?" He barked, discovering much to his chagrin that there was naught present but static once more. He swore furiously, cursing his bad luck. Now what could he possibly do? It was a long haul back to base, and it would be made harder and longer by the conditions and by one injured Baird.

"S'cold. S-s-sore. Black." Baird muttered, shuffling weakly around like a newborn kitten. Marcus found himself shaking his head in disbelief. He would never have expected to make that kind of comparison. He watched as the younger man fought to keep his eyes open, all the time wondering what he could do.

Baird meanwhile was having the time of his life. Not. His head was pounding, he felt in so much pain that he was tempted to just start screaming, and he was desperately cold. His shoulder felt strangely numb, but his brain was quick to inform him that that was due to blood loss. Hell, he hated being smart. Well, that was actually a lie, because he liked being smart and seeing dumbasses having to ask him for help. And now his brain was telling him that he was rambling due to shock. Seriously. He hated being smart. He forced his eyes to open, feeling like paint was running down his face, trying to glue his eyelids shut. Marcus – or was that Marcuses? – was crouched down beside him again. Was that actual concern in those eyes? He really must be hallucinating, because there was no way in hell that Fenix would look at him like that. Baird smirked feebly as the older man watched.

"Hey…Mom." Baird muttered, blinking furiously to keep his eyes open. He shivered and fought the urge to curl up into a ball. His shoulder wouldn't thank him for that, he knew.

A faint and spidery smile formed on Marcus' face as Baird spoke, but he was too busy thinking about options he had. He knew time was of the essence; he had to make his mind up quickly. Suddenly he nodded and reached forward towards the blonde, gently wrapping an arm around the younger man's shoulders. He was careful not to aggravate the injury but the mechanic moaned anyway, looking at Marcus with a faded glare.

"What…Are you doing?" He coughed, but Marcus ignored the blonde's complaints, instead gently helping the blonde to his feet. "Fenix…What the…Hell…?" Baird's voice trickled away as Marcus steadied him. "Where are…We going?" It didn't escape Marcus' attention that Baird sounded more than a little afraid.

"Well. Seems I'm draggin' your sorry ass back after all." Marcus rumbled, watching the blonde carefully lest he start to sway and fall. "Do you think you could walk if I helped?" To Marcus' amusement the blonde looked like he was going into a sulk at the question. Even when hurt he was still a whiny bitch, apparently.

"I'm…Fine. S'good." He muttered, trying to pull away from the hold of the older man. Trying, that is, and failing. Marcus held on, ignoring the protestations being muttered. He shook his head. There was his question answered.

"Right. We'll take it easy. Anytime you need to take a break, we'll stop."

"You say…That to Anya too?" The blonde snickered weakly, and Marcus decided to let that one go. He would make the blonde pay some other time when he was fully conscious. He carefully took a step forward, keeping a tight grip on the younger man as he slowly stumbled forward. It wasn't a good plan – hell, it was a terrible one – but it was the only thing that Marcus could come up with. They couldn't sit around all night and into the morning, waiting for another patrol to come out and find them. The sooner they got back to base and got Baird to a doctor, the better. And hanging around sitting on their asses wasn't going to do that now, was it? Marcus shook his head, before taking another step forward, and another.

They 'walked' for a few minutes, Baird taking steps more and more hesitantly before eventually stopping. He was shaking violently, Marcus could feel it. But of course the moron had too much pride to consider sitting down in front of him. Marcus rolled his eyes.

"Baird, take five." He ordered. But the harshness of his words was slightly undermined by the way he gently steadied the younger man. Said younger man however attempted to glare again.

"You're…Not my…Fucking nanny…" He complained.

"Damn right I'm not. Your scrawny ass would be glued to the Naughty Step if I was." Marcus replied, totally deadpan. Baird scowled, his blue eyes peeking out from under half closed lids. Marcus decided to try another tack.

"Look, the sooner you sit down the sooner you can get back up again, right?" Baird just looked at him. Marcus didn't know what was better – a quiet Baird or a bitching one. Normally when he was hurt he would give off like hell to anyone who was nearby, so Marcus didn't know what to make of this silent Baird. It made him uneasy; made him wonder just how much pain the blonde was in.

"M'fine." The blonde muttered, determinedly sticking his chin out. He took a step forward, and then another before starting to sway. Marcus reached out and managed to grab a hold of him before he completely went down on his face. He told himself to count to ten and try and calm down. But he couldn't help it. The blonde was starting to annoy him again.

"Cut the crap, Baird!" He ordered, feeling frustrated. "I got that bullet out, I can easily shove it back in!" Hopeless threat he knew, but it did make him feel a tad better.

"You're such…An asshole… Fenix." The blonde muttered, trying to brush the older man away. He felt strangely light, as if he was walking on a cloud. Not that clouds on Sera were fluffy. Ever since Adam Fenix had burned the world, clouds were more like a bed of needles than feathers. Not that he had ever been on a cloud, anyway. He really needed to stop losing track of what he was thinking.

"Yeah, you do." Marcus said, looking faintly amused. Oh, so apparently he was running away with his mouth as well as his brain. Baird tried to concentrate, but it was hard. Every part of him seemed to be burning. It was as painful as hell and he really wanted to scream and go to sleep and not wake up. But not in front of Fenix. He tried again to brush the older man off and failed.

"Go…Away!" Oh, how his head was beginning to throb. But felt light too. "I want…To sleep!" He feebly lashed out at the older man, but Marcus remained unmoveable. Now he was sinking, his legs feeling weak. He stopped hitting the older man.

"Baird?" Marcus said, seeing that the blonde had suddenly halted in his punches. The blonde was alarmingly pale, and his eyes seemed to be rolling in his head. "Hell, Baird!" He started to lower the mechanic to the ground but -

"Storm." The blonde simply informed the concerned older man, before suddenly crashing to the ground.

Marcus swore violently, and began to move the limp figure into a more comfortable shape. He placed a finger on Baird's neck and once again found that his pulse was weak and thread-like. Baird's skin was clammy, and when Marcus checked the injured shoulder he discovered that the bandages were heavily bloodstained – it was bleeding again.

"Next time I go on patrol, you ain't coming with me, Baird." The older man muttered furiously to the still figure as he began to press the remaining bandages he had left to him on the bleeding wound. Marcus kept talking as he worked. "I mean it. Cole can go with you and watch you attempt to kill yourself." He spared the younger man a look, shaking his head slightly. "Damnit, Baird!"


Okay, I lied. Apparently this will be a three parter now. I do offer my sincere apologies, but personally I blame Baird and Marcus. Those guys just don't know what they're doing...

...Anyone else see that the last chapter and this one both ended with Baird falling? Balance issues much? :L

Okkies, thanks as always for reading and I hope you liked! xx