Dislcaimer: Left 4 Dead 2 belongs to it's respective creators. The OC, Gina, and this particular plot belong to me
If you don't like OC's, good Infected, or SurvivorxInfected, then I highly advise you DON'T read this. Otherwise, enjoy~
Chapter Six
Gina absentmindedly moved her right hand around in various directions, wincing every now when a particular position send a shock of pain to her right wrist. Her range of motion was pretty limited, that was for sure. The swelling around the joint wasn't helping much either. It was a nasty sprain, all right. And she really didn't have much with which to treat it, besides bandages to try and compress the edema. Still, being right-hand dominant, it put her at a severe disadvantage. As if she didn't already feel useless enough as it was.
"Hey." She glanced up. She was slightly surprised that Aaren had pronounced the word so clearly. Words with simpler pronunciation he had pretty much mastered, and she was impressed that he'd done so in such short time. He was making extremely good progress indeed.
"O… kay?" He fumbled a little with the 'k' sound in the back of his throat, but she understood what he was saying nonetheless. For a long moment, she regarded him. The only thing that kept coming to mind was the horror felt, knowing that Aaren had planned to recklessly take on the Tank by himself. Sure, he was a Hunter, but he was going up against a Tank. Tanks were massive, impossible to beat by oneself, and could kill with one hit. What if something had gone wrong and he'd…
And as she thought about it, he was always going out of his way to save her, wasn't he? Some instances made sense, such as the Smoker, and perhaps when she was being overwhelmed by the horde in Clayton. In both instances, her hyper-focus had left her all but completely defenseless, and she would've most certainly died if it weren't for Aaren. He was the one who'd helped her to change her concentration tactics for the better, and now she hadn't had any serious problems since. But it was feeling more and more like he considered her a child he had to babysat instead of a teammate he could rely on in sticky situations.
She always prided herself on being reliable regardless of the situation; the type of person that could be turned to without hesitation. Being useless, some kind of 'damsel in distress'… she absolutely hated it. It made her feel weak, pathetic. She'd resolved to be a strong, independent woman after her teenage years. Back then, her insecurities had resulted in her amassing a number of friends who only used her, and she'd always found herself going back to them, like a loyal, abused, dog. Like she couldn't live without them, even if they had made her life a living hell. No, she refused to ever be weak like that again, or in any way ever again. So for Aaren to act like she couldn't handle herself, she couldn't take that, wouldn't take it.
"Can I say something?" she heard herself saying before she even realized it. Aaren blinked before crouching comfortably in front of her and watching her expectantly. Well, there was no going back now, was there? "Well… it's just… that thing with the Tank got me thinking… and… I don't know."
She had no idea how to say it without sounding arrogant. Aaren watched her for a moment before he placed an encouraging hand on her shoulder. She glanced up at him, unsure of how the conversation would end, before she continued.
"Well, I mean… it's just that, I feel like you're doing like, everything, you know? And I know you're stronger and faster than me, but I can fight too. I mean, I'm not saying that I don't appreciate your help all those times, I really do! It's just… I didn't know what'd happened when you went after that Tank. I thought you died. I just… I just want you to rely on me a little, you know?"
His hand left her shoulder, and she glanced up, surprised to see a scowl on his face. "No," he replied, his voice a growl. Gina was taken aback, not just by the tone, but by his answer.
"What do you mean, 'no'?" she asked incredulously, "You're gonna keep treating me like a kid?"
He was steadily growling at her. He abruptly pointed at her, then outside, before making a cut-throat gesture. That message was a bit awkward to decipher, but Gina had the feeling that he'd said something like you'd be dead out there if it wasn't for me. Gina could feel her temper flaring, but she didn't really care. All the stress of the past several days suddenly rushed to the forefront of her mind, overwhelming her, and the only clear thought that emerged among the rest was he has some nerve assuming I can't hold my own!
"Excuse me?" her voice was growing louder as she heatedly shot back, "For your information, I'm perfect capable of protecting myself, and I was doing that and a hell of a lot more before you came along! I can watch your back, just trust me!"
"No," he snarled angrily, making a series of half-words that she couldn't understand. It reminded her of when they'd truly first met; his attempts at pronouncing his name nearly had her in stitches back then. Unfortunately, the noises presently didn't have the same effect. Her anger blew up all the same. This was absolutely ridiculous!
"I was part of a team before I met you!" she exploded, "I looked out for them and they looked out for me! We've been through a lot of shit and I haven't died yet, have I?! I'm a lot stronger than you think I am, prick!"
Abruptly, he screeched, startling her into silence. She stared at him, wide-eyed, stunned at his outburst. Slowly, her eyes narrowed into icy slits, and she stood up. "Forget it," she spat before turning and stalking off to one of the bedrooms in the cabin, where she slammed the door shut, leaving Aaren alone in the stillness left in the wake of the argument.
…
The springs poked through the old mattress, painfully jabbing her in the back. She just couldn't bring herself to care, however. Instead, she lay in silence, the monotony of the room broken only by the flickering of the dim lamp on the little bedside table and the occasional flash of lightning from outside. The light-bulb would probably die soon. Not that it mattered; she knew they weren't going to be camping out in the abandoned cabin for much longer. There had been a couple of cans of food they used to refuel their energy, and ammo for her pistols. She really needed to find a bigger gun. But at least there were bandages she could use.
She held her right hand above her, studying the wrap job she'd done on it while stewing in her rage. She'd used one roll as a compression wrap, to help push out the swelling. The second one she found was used as a support, wrapping it in such a way as to pull the wrist into a comfortable position and keep it there. She also made sure to wrap it in such a way as to limit the amount of extension her wrist went into – that motion caused the most pain. Besides that, the only thing she could do was strengthening exercises whenever they found a safe-house, and popping pills to dull the pain.
Slowly, she turned her hand, now glancing at her palm, and watched as she slowly clenched it into a tight fist. Unwillingly, her thoughts drifted towards the argument she'd had with Aaren. It'd upset her more than she was ready to admit when Aaren had been so adamant about rejecting her proposal. Did he have such little faith in her? The only message she felt she'd gotten from Aaren was you aren't strong enough, you can't do anything without me.
She didn't want to think that really was what he meant, but she sure as hell interpreted it as that. Over the years she thought she really had changed, nurtured some confidence, and became her own woman, but… was she still the same as before? Was she still the dependent, pitiful child she'd hated for years?
Still, she couldn't help but feel a little guilty for losing her temper and exploding when she had. Back in the day, she'd been more accustomed to bottling up her anger, keeping her mouth shut and simply enduring. After all, if she complained even a little bit to her 'friends' about something they did that she didn't like, they would gang up on her, blame her for being mad, make her out to be the bad guy. Then one day she'd lost it, blown up at one of them over something – she didn't even remember what – and since then she never had any qualms about letting someone have it without hesitation.
But, this time… maybe she'd blown it all out of proportion – she'd been known to do that from time to time. But still… why did he seem to trust her abilities so little? Maybe it's because of every time you've screwed up since you met, she thought sourly, mentally berating herself, I mean, it's not like you've given him a reason to trust your abilities. Why else would he be so bent on babying her? Did he have any reason not to, if she really was as useless as he seemed to think?
But her survival thus far had been enough, hadn't it? Granted, she'd been working with four other people prior to her separation, but she really had put in her share of the work, always willing to act as decoy or taking on the most dangerous tasks. Her athleticism gave her an advantage that the others, save for maybe Ellis, didn't have. And sure, she had her weaknesses, but everyone always covered each other's weakness with their own strengths. And their teamwork had worked! It'd been almost a month since the world went to hell, and she was still alive. She had weaknesses, yes, and Aaren made sure to help her with those. Did Aaren have any weaknesses? He didn't seem to. Was she really just useless to the point where he didn't need her help? She wanted to be someone he could rely on; not a burden that would only get in his way!
Why couldn't she find that kind of connection with Aaren? She needed to have some kind of bond with him. They couldn't just practically be strangers fighting for a common goal. Really, she didn't know if she'd ever see her friends again, and all things considering, the chances that she would were pretty slim, regardless of what she wanted. At this point, Aaren would be all she had left.
More than anything, she didn't want to see him put himself in unnecessary danger for her sake. If he died after pulling a stunt like he had with the earlier Tank, she didn't know what she'd do. So, she quietly decided, he couldn't die. She wouldn't allow it. She'd find a way to prove to him her strength, and then he's have no choice but to let her be a team mate rather than his burden to fuss over. She'd be damned if something happened to him just because he wouldn't let her protect him.
She lay there for a little while longer before getting up, glancing around the room to search for more supplies. They'd been camped out at the cabin for a couple of hours, but there was still a lot of daylight let, even with the darkness of the hurricane. She wanted to cover as much ground as she could before conditions got any worse. As she approached the door, however, she grew slightly hesitant.
Aaren was in the next room, and she was sure he was still angry at her for her outburst. She didn't blame him, of course, but she wasn't planning on apologizing. He needed to get it that she really was capable of holding her own in most circumstances. Her tantrum might have been unnecessary, but she had a good reason to be upset at him all the same.
She took a deep breath, forcing some of the vestiges of anger to remain in her head, and let herself back into the main room. Aaren, who'd been practicing his pronunciation exercises, paused at the sound, and glanced over at her, an unreadable glint in his eyes. Gina didn't allow her mind to dwell on trying to figure out his thoughts.
"We need to get going."
They held each other's gaze for a long moment, silently challenging one another to say the wrong thing or make the wrong move. The tension in the air was thick, the silence between them the weight of a mountain. The Hunter broke the gaze first, standing up and stretching slightly. Then, without even sparing her a second glance, he headed towards the door.
She expected to feel anger at that. At first, to her bemusement, she was fleetingly crestfallen, her heart sinking slightly at his blatant show of ignoring her. Was she really that insignificant to him, after all? But just as quickly as it had appeared, it was gone, replaced by a quiet fury as she stormed out after him. Fine. If Aaren was going to play that way then fine. So be it.
The rain fell steadily, and the clouds darkened the sky too much for her liking. The howling wind didn't make it all that much better; it wasn't long before she was drenched. Her clothes felt like they weighed a ton. Since she and Aaren mutually refused to let her ride on his back, they were walking, silently, several feet of space in between one another.
Gina had a hand resting on her pistol holster. Although it was quiet aside from the sounds of the storm overall, she couldn't help but have the feeling that they were being watched, maybe even followed. The only question was, what exactly was it? The area was strangely empty of Infected, which implied any number of things. The Infected could've been swept away in the river. Perhaps a group of survivors had passed through not too long ago, clearing out the area? Besides the Tank and Hunter from before, she hadn't seen anything else since.
Aaren hadn't said anything to her, or even so much as made a sound, but with her discreet glances in his direction – an instinctive urge to check on him and make sure he was still there – he was tense, glancing around them with the intensity of a predator. Slowly, she drew her gun, holding it at her side, but more than ready to bring it up and fire if she needed to. Wherever she looked though, she saw nothing. So where was the thing?
The wind suddenly picked up and the steady shower turned into a torrential downpour. Shit… She couldn't see two feet in front of her. She'd heard stories of squalls from Coach and Ellis, but she never imagined it'd be like this. She squinted her eyes, trying to locate her Hunter companion. The rain was so thick, Aaren had completely disappeared from her line of sight, and her surroundings had become so loud…
"Aaren!" she shouted, hoping her voice carried over top of the wind and thunder. There wasn't a response at first. Suddenly, she heard a screech from behind her, but the tone of voice was far from what she expected from Aaren. As she whirled around to face the new adversary, gun thrown up to eye level, she was abruptly slammed into and knocked to the ground, the gun sliding across the way and out of reach. It was a Hunter, pinning her to the road.
"Shit!" She thrust her palm forward, jamming it into the Hunter's chin and wrenching his head back, thrashing violently in an attempt to buck him off of her, the other hand shooting up and grabbing one of his wrists tightly. But it was no use; she was at a terrible angle and was unable to use much of her strength. She didn't have a fighting chance. The Hunter seemed to be grinning wildly, and he brought his free hand down, fully intending to shred through her stomach. Then, just as abruptly as he appeared, he disappeared in a dark blur, his weight on top of her vanishing. Through the wind and rain came the sound of bloodcurdling screeches.
Aaren… the rain was beginning to calm down, and she could see the Hunter and Aaren, violently wrestling close to a downhill slope. Aaren had been knocked over and pinned down – the Hunter appeared bigger, and possibly stronger – and was valiantly fending off the Hunter's attempts to tear into him. Their movements pitched them over the edge of the hill. Shit! Scrambling to her feet, Gina grabbed her second pistol, sprinting over to the top of the hill and aiming carefully. They were sliding, but not too fast, and the Hunter was still on top, making him an easy target.
Two well-placed bullets embedded into the Hunter's skull, and he fell on top of Aaren like a dead weight. This distracted him from getting his bearings, slightly pinned him even, and just an instant later, he and the fresh corpse plunged into the swollen Mississippi.
"Damn it!" There was no way Aaren was going to get out on his own; Infected seemed to lose the ability to swim, some of them even developing hydrophobia. She and her friends had used that knowledge several times to escape hordes. Gina shoved her one pistol into the holster and took off, sliding down the hill and diving into the water after him.
…
Oh my god I can't move why can't I move shit I'm drowning I'm going to die if I don't move I'M GOING TO DIE!
He'd experienced pain on many different levels throughout his life. But nothing could really compare to the sensation of dying.
It was all moving far too fast for him to keep up. One instant he was wrenching himself up just long enough to attempt to take a gulp of air through the water threatening to climb back up his throat. But instead of air, he found himself inhaling more water, choking on it as it swirled all around him, yanking him this way and that.
His nose, throat, lungs, all of it was burning, and he couldn't breathe. His muscles weren't listening to him, and his body felt heavier than it ever had in years, fighting against his desperate attempts to break the surface for longer than just the blink of an eye. His chest felt constricted, as if trapped in a tightening vice grip and he couldn't breathe.
Everything was dark, dark, dark, and he was being jerked back and forth and up and down and in circles. He couldn't see, he couldn't even figure out which way was up or down. He was… really going to die. No no no there's no way I'm going to die. Gina… she needed his protection. He wanted her to be okay, her safety nearly a necessity for him, especially since the incident in Dundee. So long as she was okay, he was okay… but if he died…
It was so murky. His vision was flittering between total darkness and the near-black greenish brown that was the river itself. Along with his extremities, now his entire body felt like a lead weight. The sensation of being thrown back and forth had disappeared. Now, he was sinking slowly towards blackness. Can't…
Abruptly his shoulders were wrenched back, and the noise around him exploded like a bomb. The roaring waters of the Mississippi, the thunder that rolled in the flashing skies overhead, it all screamed in his ears. His lungs burned; it was almost more painful to refill them with air that it was to accidentally fill them with water. He still choked and spluttered either way.
He went to reach out for a drifting piece of debris passing him, only to find his arms unable to move. He was stuck… no… he was pinned. He jerked one shoulder forward, trying to pull an arm from the grip he was in. He couldn't move. He was floating down a giant, flooded river, and something… someone… was pinning him in the water. No no no no FUCK NO LET GO OF ME GET OFF I'LL TEAR YOU TO SHREDS LET ME FUCKING GO!
And he thrashed, flailing around frantically. He could feel his swipes catching a little bit here, tearing a little bit there. But the hold on his shoulders wouldn't loosen. God… oh god… was he about to die? Fuck it won't let me go fuck it won't let me go oh god it's going to drag me down to the bottom of the ocean and let me drown and OH GOD I DON'T WANT TO DIE PLEASE DON'T LET ME DIE!
Harder. Had to try harder. He now was trying to grab at any part of his assailant he could reach. He swiped up higher, behind his head and felt skin separating around his clawed finger, warmth trickling over the digit. There was a hissed, breathless curse just behind him, and he was suddenly jerked backwards, now almost completely supine in the water. He wailed, probably longer and louder than he ever had since turning. Frantically now, he struggled, only hearing the blood pounding in his ears from the fear-triggered adrenaline. He could feel the burning in his chest return every time his thrashing resulting in inhaling a gulp of water. The grip around his arms only tightened in response.
And then, it got colder. He was suddenly hyperaware of the strong wind chilling him to the bone. He quickly realized he was being dragged through slick, wet, muddy grass. He… he'd been rescued?
He spluttered, gagging on the water he'd inhaled in his struggles, and the grip around his arms disappeared. He felt something push on his back, encouraging him to lean forward as he began coughing violently, heaving up mouthful after mouthful of water until he was raggedly panting in exhaustion, and proceeded to alternate between rubbing in soothing circles, and firmly smacking him in between the shoulder blades. He wasn't having any of that, and slashed out with a snarl. The presence backed off with another hissed curse, and it wasn't until he clearly heard the voice – "Jesus fucking Christ!" – that he froze, eyes wide in astonishment. No way… it couldn't be.
Slowly, he glanced over his shoulder. As he took in the sight of her, his stomach plummeted, his heart leaping to his throat. Gina was glaring at him, crouched several feet away from him, but it wasn't her fury that'd caught his attention. No, his focus was on the cuts lining her arms and shoulders. She was gripping one of her arms, a long cut traveling across her upper arm. It looked fresh. Had he just done that to her?
Her voice broke into his reverie. "Stop practically seizing like that, idiot. You just nearly drowned, so calm down," Her voice was even, calm. Her gaze was averted to the rushing waters of the river that'd nearly swept them away. "Take slow, deep breaths so you don't have a coughing fit."
There was a long gash on her cheek, bleeding freely. It looked relatively deep, and painful. He did that to her, just like he nearly ripped her jacket and her arms to shreds. He could've killed her if he'd hit her the wrong way. And as it was, that wound would leave a scar.
Oh god… what had I almost done?
He felt sick. After all of his obsession on protecting her, he'd nearly killed her himself. God… what if she'd…
He found himself crawling over to her, crouching in front of her. His eyes were trained on the wound as he lifted a trembling hand, slowly bringing it to her face. His fingers – his disgusting claws, he savagely corrected himself – brushed against the skin there, tracing the laceration. In the back of his mind, he reveled in the softness of her skin. But then he felt Gina stiffen, and he almost recoiled. Was she afraid of him now? His heart began to race as a panic began to quietly take hold. She was all he really had in this hell… he didn't want to be left alone again! But he'd nearly killed her… he could've killed her…
"S-sorry…" he whispered through a lump in his throat that wouldn't go away. He suddenly found his eyes stinging almost painfully, and Gina's face blurred in front of him. "I'm sorry…"
A long silence fell over them, the sound of rain fading into the background. He felt Gina's eyes on him, watching as he stroked around the injury for a moment longer before letting his hand lower to his side. He couldn't bring himself to meet her eyes, and so his gaze fell as well, drifting to the gash on her arm. The one he'd afflicted. The lump in his throat only grew in size.
She moved, and he watched as her torso drifted closer. Then, a weight settled in the crook of his neck. Through his soaked, frozen clothes, he could feel puffs of heat fanning out over his chest, causing a brief shiver to race up his spine. He chanced a glance, and found she'd leaned forward and rested her forehead on his shoulder. Then, he found he couldn't tear away his gaze, and instead could only watch her, amazed that she hadn't run from him.
"It's okay," she breathed, every line of her body expressing exhaustion. She'd jumped into a raging river, found and grabbed him, and dragged the two of them ashore, even as he was attacking her. As these thoughts sank in, he realized that she really was stronger that he expected her to be.
She didn't have the Infection, didn't have abnormal strength or speed like he did, but… she'd managed, on her own, separated from friends and family, and in a group of complete strangers. He'd brushed all of that aside, too obsessed with her safety. But she was here, and granted she was a little beat up, but she protected the two of them, on her own, without his help. She'd been right all along.
He felt a small smile tug at the corners of his lips, and he tilted his head to lean against hers, nuzzling her gently. They were a team. He'd have to remind himself of that every now and then, but that was okay. It was something he had to get used to, as he'd been on his own trying to survive since the Infection hit, but he was sure he would adapt sooner rather than later. So long as Gina was still alive and with him, everything would be okay.
A/N: This took me far longer than I'd like to admit. Many thanks to De Mam, who helped me out with development and blah blah blah because she's an awesome writer and my mom.
So I know I already take long enough to update as it is. But, I have a minor block in plot. See, I have the current point of Now, and a point at the end of Chapter 7. I just need to figure out what happens in the beginning and middle of Chapter 7, is all. I'm not sure how long that'll take, and what with this being my LAST SEMESTER AT ITHACA COLLEGE HOLY SHIT! It'll be a hectic several months. I'll do my best to figure things out and update in hopefully under 6 months! In the meantime, I hope you liked this chapter. Reviews are encouraged~
