Chapter 4 - A Night Out

A Bomber/Buffer story

Rated: T

I realize I have taken some liberties with the medical treatment in the best interests of the story. Nurses please read with an open mind.

They had barely settled into their hideaway when the sounds of the encroaching rebels could be heard overhead. Bomber had closed the gap with a small log after clearing their muddy footprints but she still held her breath as the men approached. Had she forgotten anything? They would be caught like rats in a trap if they were spotted.

She breathed an audible sigh of relief when the last of the group had passed. They were safe. She climbed down from her peep hole and crouched beside Buffer.

He was breathing heavily, his face just visible in the rays of light filtering in from the side of the shelter that bordered the steep wall of the precipice. She expanded one such window and studied him.

His beautiful dark eyes looked remote and unfocussed. He was obviously trying to work through the pain. And he looked so very tired. His clothes were wet and because of his weakened state, brought on by the blood loss, he was beginning to shiver despite the fact that the temperature had not yet dropped to night time lows.

"We have to get you out of those wet clothes, Buff," she stated softly, but firmly.

He nodded. He was too weak to argue and the wet clothes and heavy vest was adding to his discomfort. He'd feel much better without them.

"We can lay our vests down to make a more comfortable sleeping area," Bomber stated matter-of-factly, as she helped him undo his straps and pull the vest over his head. She followed suit with her own.

The ground was uneven and damp from the earlier rain. Stretching the vests out would give them some protection from the wetness and make the ground more comfortable. At least the insides of them were reasonably dry.

She pulled off his wet pants and shirt placed them on a protruding root beside her peep hole. She checked his T-shirt. It remained dry except for the blood stain on one side. She blotted that with a gauze pad to dry it and allowed him to keep it on. She'd work around it as he seemed so cold and he needed all the warmth he could get.

"I'll have a better look at that wound when you lie down, Buff, but for now we need to get some fluids into you. Lots of them. It will help counter the blood loss and help with the weakness. I'll also give you some pain killers."

Buffer smiled weakly. She was definitely in medic mode. Swain would be proud of her. And it certainly made it easier for both of them. He complied meekly, taking the pills and the water.

When he had finished, Bomber retrieved the bottle and helped him lie down. She removed the bandage she had wadded into the wound and had a better look. The blood loss had definitely slowed; in fact, it seemed to have stopped. That was good.

Now what would Swain do next?

Check for exit wounds.

Hopefully the bullet had passed through.

The bullet must have caught the edge of the vest as he pushed her to the ground. It seemed to have travelled at an upward angle.

"That would have been my head if he hadn't shoved me down," she thought. "And I yelled at him! He was shot saving me, and fighting to stay conscious, and I yelled at him."

Bomber felt the cold hand of guilt grip her midriff and she fought to shake off the deep hollow feeling that pervaded her stomach.

She tilted Buffer slightly and checked for damage. There had been nothing obvious when she had initially dressed his wound. And she saw nothing now, at least not directly behind the entry wound. That wasn't good.

She then ran her hand under Buff's side and slowly and carefully feathered her fingers upwards searching. Still nothing.

Buffer had been compliant up to this point letting Bomber do her job, but the almost sensuous feel of her fingers as they stroked his midsection suddenly made the pain obsolete. His abs quivered as her fingers lightly stroked the washboard of his stomach and he could feel his body begin to respond.

This was not good. Pain. Pain. He needed the pain.

He wriggled slightly and the life saving waves washed over him again effectively smacking his libido back to the far reaches of his mind.

Bomber saw the pain flash across his eyes.

"Damn it, Buffer. Keep still. You're going to reopen the wound. Do you enjoy pain?"

"At the moment, yes. It beats the embarrassing alternative," he thought.

"I'm sorry if I'm hurting you. I have to see if the bullet exited or if it's still inside," she explained, fortunately misinterpreting his movements as pain related. "Try to keep still for a minute."

"Sorry, Bomber. Keeping still now," he replied. "Do you want me to turn over?" he asked thinking that preferable to the caressing hands that were fondling his midsection and causing some very unwelcome reactions.

"If it won't hurt you too much to lie on your back,' she responded. "That would be much better. I'll be able to see any damage."

"Definitely much better," he thought, as he eased himself over on his back.

Bomber lifted his tee up all the way to his neck and checked again. It had moved at an angle. Where would it be?

There it was, a small wound, high up on his side almost hidden under his arm. It must have hit him at a very steep angle and exited just above the opening in his sleeve. A once in a lifetime shot.

How could she have missed it? The red stain had leached down and joined the lower one and she had just assumed it was the same wound.

"Careless, Bomber. Very careless," she berated herself.

She helped Buffer remove his tee and tended the still bleeding wound. It wasn't profuse but it was steady and it explained his continuing weakness after she had packed the entry wound.

"I'll put a quick stitch in this Buff and that should stop the bleeding. We'll keep pushing the fluids and you should feel better by morning."

"Thanks, Bomb," he replied as he lay quietly letting her finish her job.

Bomber finished up and gave him some more water. Even though she had helped him put his shirt back on he was still shivering. In fact, much more so now, and Bomber was afraid he would reopen the wound.

"We need to warm you up, Buff. It's the blood loss that's making you so cold."

She removed the rest of her wet clothes and lay down beside him. She then pulled him towards her, positioning his head on her chest, and wrapped her arm around him.

"Relax, Buff," she said, as she felt him tense beside her. Pretend I'm Spider," she laughed.

"Believe it or not, Bomber I don't fantasize about snuggling with young Spider either," he countered, and Bomber laughed again, despite the unexpected feeling of disappointment that enveloped her at the use of the word "either."

Is that how he saw her? Just a young sailor, like Spider. And why did that thought make her suddenly feel very sad?

"Try to get some sleep, Buff. You'll feel better in the morning."

She pulled him close and stroked his back in a comforting gesture. The movement combined with the feel of the soft and pliant pillow beneath him was causing Buffer's body to react again and he struggled against the urge.

"And keep still. If you open that wound again I'm going to smack you," she warned. "I swear you must enjoy pain."

Buffer resisted the urge to wiggle and get the wound aching again. She probably would smack him and he was much too weak to protest.

He tried to focus on sleeping and he eventually began to drift off, lulled by her calm and soothing touch.