So I like this whole lucas-is-a-tiger metaphor, so yeah. Deal with it. :P After watching the Lucas/Skye scenes I'm really having trouble writing as though Skye truly hates him, she really doesn't look too bothered even in the bar scene. Then again, if Lucas were doing that to anyone I don't think they'd be annoyed xD

The sight of him in so much pain was something she knew she would keep in her mind forever. He was feeling all the pain he'd caused her, but physically. He had the luxury of being able to die from it, a luxury she did not have. She wanted to just sit back and wait, watch the mighty tiger collapse and wither away. She wanted to be there for his last breath. But she didn't think this way of leaving would be fair. She wanted a full on fight, her against him, no outside forces dealing any damage. It felt as though letting him die there would be seen as weak on her part, though she had shot him. It was worse to leave someone to die and not finish the job, in her opinion at least.

He seemed like a completely different person lying there, still desperately trying to move himself somewhere safe. She quietly approached his struggling frame, unsure if he would lash out at her and further injure himself. As she knelt down behind him, she felt a feminine side of her, an almost motherly side, break loose. Perhaps if was the overwhelming smell of his blood, drenching the jungle away from her and causing her to feel the need to protect him, to fix the wounds she gave him and make sure he got out of it alive. Then the hunt would be on; she wasn't just going to let him go, she'd release him just to chase him down again, but it would be a fair fight this time. His intelligence against her wit, a true battle of skill. Or maybe a Slasher would do the job for them, taking one of them out and relieving that sense of guilt from a murder, no matter how small it would be. She was fully prepared to die trying to kill him, but now she needed to make him able to kill her. It sounded as sick as it was, and it was oddly reminiscent of a game Lucas might play. A twinge of a smile etched the corners of her mouth.

"Oh Lucas…what have you done?" She murmured gently. She heard his breath catch, and he started into another bout of coughing. To her amusement, he tried rolling away from her, causing a visible spasm of pain as some of his weight neared one of the bullet holes. She cocked her head slightly, carefully tracing his side with her fingers. He was shivering uncontrollably, probably from blood loss. She wanted to toy with him a bit, but the unsettling fact that he might die was a little too real.

"Its okay, I really am here to help this time." She swung off her pack, dumping it next to her. "For now at least." She had a limited time frame to get Lucas patched up before the night creatures started coming out. She gently coaxed him into rolling onto his back, and she got her first good look at his eyes. They were bloodshot and wide with fear. He didn't seem to know where he was, or even who he was for that matter. She smiled faintly, feeling steadily worse about deciding to help him. He was really close to the end, much closer than she thought. The front of his shirt was completely coated with dried blood, and the bullet holes were still bleeding profusely. She pulled out her knife, and started to lift the fabric and cut it away to expose his skin.

For being completely delusional, Lucas wasn't a bad patient, though he still managed to be prideful enough to avoid screaming when she accidently poked him with the knife. She was tempted to pull out her morphine IV, but she'd seen countless patients denied the powerful drug because it would be too dangerous. She decided not to chance it with Lucas. She finally pulled the shirt away, leaving his chest bare. She found herself admiring his muscular form, and then realized that this was Lucas Taylor. It didn't matter if he really was Prince Charming at this point, he was top of her list of enemies, and she couldn't wait to reopen all these wounds with the same knife she was now using to save him. She rolled up a bit of cloth and as she went to place it in his mouth, she was surprised to find him sleeping. She brought her fingers to his throat, feeling for a pulse, just in case he died on her. The faint beat was still there, and she exhaled, glad he was still with her.

"Lucas!" She hissed, and his eyes flew open, terrified. She ignored his reaction and continued, "I'm going to put this in your mouth okay? This is going to hurt, so biting on this might make you feel better." She instructed. His lips parted in response, but she couldn't tell if he was just trying to refuse. She put the cloth in his mouth anyway and he did nothing to stop her. Not that he could.

She took a deep breath, starting with the bullethole that looked like it was bleeding the most. This was going to hurt him a lot, almost as much as it would gross her out. She needed to get the bullet out, and the knife was too thick, so she had to use her fingers. She bit her lip and shut her eyes as she went in.

It was a very strange feeling as she dug around for the bullet, she could feel him clenching his jaw way before she heard his muffled cry. She felt his heart start to beat faster, in the form was the increased bloodflow from the wound. She finally reached the bullet, nestled between two of his ribs, which she felt with sickening definition. She was touching human bone, real human bone, not a skeleton. She fought off the threat of vomiting as she quickly extracted the little metal lump. She was glad it was a regular bullet, as modern technology had created bullets that shattered once inside the body. Well, Lucas ought to be glad anyway. His lungs were heaving as she dropped the bullet on the ground beside her, releasing muffled whimpers. She felt a pang of empathy, and decided to wait a bit before having a go at the second bullet. Time wasn't on their side, but she wasn't sure Lucas would be able to survive another intrusion so soon. She started wadding up the rest of his shirt fabric and gingerly plugged up the first hole. Why didn't she think to grab tweezers? Because you weren't supposed to save him, you idiot! She snapped at herself. She shifted her position to better see the second bullethole, but hesitated. Lucas was still scared out of his wits. She sighed, reluctantly grabbing his hand. It wasn't like he would remember any of this, so she could be as nice as she wanted, right?

"Hey, Lucas." She whispered, gripping his hand a little tighter. "You're going to be fine, okay? I just have to get the other bullet out now, alright?" She felt his fingers twitch, and saw his jaw tighten again. She frowned, mentally hitting herself for telling him she was going to cause him more pain. She loosened her grip on his hand, leaning over him until she was above his head. His eyes were wide, staring into nothingness. She felt his forehead, and winced at the heat of it. He was boiling hot, but he probably felt like he was taking an ice bath. She rubbed his temple with her thumb, her heart desperately trying to combat her barrage of emotions. She hated him, yet she saw him as too fragile to hate. He was delicate now, nothing more than a pitiful wounded kitten. He needed her to help him, and she needed him to live. In that moment, that was all that mattered. She needed him alive. His breathing slowed as she lowered her head, feeling the early warning of tears in her eyes. Her brain was done with trying to deal with her mood swings, and all it knew to do to release emotion was cry. She just sat there for a bit, staring at his nearly lifeless green eyes and gently trying to rub some of his pain away. He finally settled and she pulled back.

"You can do this." She didn't know if she was talking to herself, or to her patient. She swallowed, and dove into the second hole.

The second bullet was tricky, though closer to the surface, it was at an angle, so she spent a few vital seconds getting it in the right position. She thought about being gentle and careful pulling it out, but Lucas was losing strength at an alarming rate, so she just yanked. For the first time of the night he really screamed, and she shrank back at the power of it as she saw his back arch in pain. But the bullet was out and he was past his first test. She'd run out of fabric so she took the bloodied knife and began to cut some of the fluffy lining of the inside of her jacket. It worked very well in absorbing blood and she didn't have to use nearly as much to stop the bleeding. Now that he wasn't spewing blood everywhere, Lucas was a lot better off, but he still had a long way to go. After the last extraction he went limp, the shock of it all had been too much for his weak body. But they couldn't stay here, the jungle was beginning to wake up, and the bloodbath they were sitting in was even smelly to a human, it had to be unbearable for a carnivore.

She dug through her pack and pulled out the ESD. She really didn't want it to get all bloody, but it was better than getting eaten. She unrolled the compacted fabric, similar to that of a sleeping bag, but stretchier for easier hanging in trees. She unzipped the flap and unrolled that as well. Next came the hard part. Lucas was way heavier than she was, and she wasn't exactly in prime condition to lift him. She was afraid to roll him over, in case he started bleeding again, so she decided to drag him. Instead of trying to drag him sideways, she moved the ESD above his head, so she could just drag him backwards onto the makeshift stretcher. She slowly lifted him by propping him up with her knee, and getting her elbows under his arms. She slowly started pulling and Lucas flinched, but didn't wake up. With a few forceful tugs she managed to get him into position and zipped up the bag, encasing him in a cocoon of fabric that he couldn't bleed through if he started up again. Only his head was exposed and as Skye tied the end tether around her waist, she watched to make sure he was still breathing.

"Come on, Tiger." She said into the night, starting forward. "We have to get you healthy enough to make a proper kill."