A/N: Happy Monday, everyone! It's past one in the morning for me, but my insomnia is your gain tonight. Enjoy the chapter!
I hope everyone is doing well. Perhaps it is bold for me to say on behalf of the fandom, but I feel like us introverted reader types have been training for the pandemic olympics our whole lives. Social distancing is a cakewalk, no? ;)
O
"Says the sadistic little prick," Alex snorted. It took more effort than he was proud of to keep his voice steady and flippant, but he managed. This was his only chance. Yassen and he no longer shared a room, so there was no way for the man to know unless Alex confirmed it for him. His heart climbed into his throat. Yassen wouldn't look at him, wouldn't make eye contact. It could make all the difference in the world. "You're gross, Steiner. I hope those stains on your soul are machine washable, because I don't think they're coming out."
Come on, Yassen, just think about it. Machine washable. Please understand. Please pick up on-
At long last, the contract killer met his eyes. Something flickered.
Alex prayed it was understanding.
Yassen stood abruptly, reaching behind himself and pulling out his gun. He checked the clip the same way he always did before snapping it back into place decisively. "Very well," he said, voice flat. He turned and fired point blank at Alex's heart.
Alex's frightened jump wasn't hard to fake, but forcing his body to go limp when Yassen's bullet slammed into his breast bone took all the willpower he had. Smithers' shirt prevented so much as the slightest puncture from reaching his skin, but couldn't it protect him from the force of impact.
He'd cracked bone, he was certain.
Sagging forward in a haze of pain, he was relieved when both of the men holding him dropped him immediately to the ground. Stars exploded across his vision.
Yassen's cold voice. "Satisfied?"
"I know it's upsetting, but this a very good first step. Very promising." The sound of boots moving. The guards who'd held Alex seconds ago also stepped away, now focused on their sole armed target. "Dr. Three has expressed great interest in your return. He'll be very pleased to hear of your breakthrough."
Whatever Yassen was going to do, Alex hoped he would do it soon. Faking his death to buy him a few minutes was all Alex could come up with and he wasn't even sure he could give the contract killer that any more. Chest in agony, Alex did everything he could to avoid dragging in a breath or making any noise. His lungs burned. He ached to move into a more comfortable position.
In the end, it wasn't even his own fortitude that failed him. He just couldn't quite suppress the strangled gasp as one of the guards nudged him with a stray boot.
"Wait. Is he-?"
A gun fired again, dropping the guard who kicked Alex onto the ground beside him, a weeping red dot carving a hole deep in his forehead.
There was no time to look for the handcuff key. More shots fired. Something- or someone- fell from the landing of the second floor, crashing onto the sofa and tumbling forward onto the floor. Ears ringing, Alex forced himself up onto his feet, glass shattering around him, wishing his arms were free to that he could grab his gun from the counter top. The metal bit into his wrists, the awkward position pulling on his chest bone painfully.
Steiner lay dead in his chair, fireplace crackling away cheerily beside him. Meanwhile, Yassen twisted mid-step, driving his elbow into the face of the guard attempting to grab him and making himself a smaller target in the process. He shot another man in the throat. Yanking the man in front of him, he crouched to avoid the returning shot from the other guards, ignoring the bullets thunking into the gurgling man before him. "Alex."
Impossibly calm. Alex would have hated him out of sheer envy if it wasn't the only thing keeping them alive right now.
"I'm up." Alex rammed the guard closest to him with his shoulder, knocking him back into the open hallway leading to the entrance. The man raised his gun to retaliate but Alex ducked. Yassen's bullet punched a hole on the man's right temple, but Alex didn't stick around to see more than that. There was already enough PTSD fuel in his head for one lifetime, thank you. He barreled down the hallway, guessing that Yassen would meet him at the carport.
Another guard dropped from the upper landing. Yassen darted forward in the sudden silence, vaulting one of the armchairs and passing the fireplace in one bound, beating Alex to the door of the mudroom. The other guards scrambled to take cover, to assess the situation.
His jaw was set, eyes clear and deadly as he reached out to Alex with his free hand. "Come."
Popping up from where he'd taken cover behind the kitchen island, one of the remaining four guards fired. The bullet slammed into Alex's back, shoving him forward and forcing him to cry out as his entire body seemed to lock up in pain. He was certain it hadn't made it through the fabric, but he was going to have a lot of cracked bones when he was done.
There wasn't enough oxy in the world…
Yassen fired back, clipping the man's head as he ducked down again. Alex moaned as Yassen grabbed him by the shoulder and propelled him in front of him into the mudroom. "Car. Go."
Alex staggered forward blindly, drawing on every reserve and drop of adrenaline to keep going. The door to the carport slammed open when he kicked it. It boomed against the exterior of the house and Alex was outside again.
One of the front perimeter guards fired as he emerged, waiting for them at the end of the carport.
"Yassen?"
O
Without bothering to respond, Yassen strode through the door, hefting a handgun he'd returned to collect and fired off a perfect headshot. The guard at the end of the carport dropped to the pavement, his rifle clattering in a sharp echo. Clicking the fob in his pocket, Yassen unlocked the car doors while covering the area with his gun in a neat arc. There had to be at least one other perimeter guard out here, likely waiting for a decent shot to present itself. Possibly two more alive inside. Likely more operatives within driving distance. If they could make it onto the road, they had a chance: there had been no strange cars parked on their street to alert Yassen, meaning that whatever vehicles had brought them here had either been stashed or were waiting with other operatives nearby.
At least one good side effect was coming about from this road trip from hell: Yassen was getting plenty of practice with car chases. Not exactly a specialty he'd considered before...
The boy was still bound with his hands behind him. He was such an idiot, Yassen realized abruptly. No wonder he hadn't moved towards the car. Yassen yanked open the passenger door and snapped, "Hurry. Get in."
"Yassen?"
It was the soft, distant way he'd said it that clued the contract killer in to something amiss. "Alex?"
Alex fell against him, face ashen. His lips moved, but no sound came out beyond a soft gasping. A bright blossom of blood soaked through his jeans, just over his hip where the guard's bullet had caught him beneath the edge of the armored shirt.
A steady arc moved through the fabric, spreading like an inkblot through paper. Yassen couldn't tear his eyes away. Had Alex stopped breathing or had Yassen? Was Alex going into shock or was it Yassen?
His training kicked in almost as quickly. He folded the boy into the front seat as gently as he could and slammed the mudroom door shut to buy them some time.
Keep moving. Don't stop.
He took a distant, savage pleasure in reversing over the shooter's corpse as he got them onto the road. "Put pressure on the wound, Alex," he said.
Alex slumped in the front seat, leaning uncomfortably against the window with his bound arms preventing him from sitting back, eyes glassy with shock. Barely conscious. Blood continued to flow out of him, splashing across the tan microfiber of the seats. It even flecked onto the dashboard in thick droplets. How was there so much? Alex was too small to have this much blood in the first place, much less lose any of it.
Yassen swore, one hand on the steering wheel while he shoved his other against the bullet wound to staunch the bleeding. "Just put pressure on it," he murmured, almost absently.
Warm blood flowed against his palm. Everything smelled like copper. His frazzled brain almost refused to focus on driving; it took him ages to flick on the headlights as the evening swallowed the mountains in starless night, his blood-slick fingers sliding off the knob twice. Their tires screeched as he swung them onto the main road, accelerating as he began heading for the mouth of the canyon. "Just put pressure on it. Just press. Alex? I need you to press on it."
It was a waste of effort. The handcuffs kept Alex's hands locked behind his back, so he could hardly do anything about the blood. Yassen would have to pick the lock for him. Maybe show Alex how to do it himself in a pinch. It would be a fun lesson for a quiet day.
Pursuers were likely. Almost a given.
They were practically irrelevant. Alex had minutes to stop the bleeding at most, but then what? The nearest hospital was at least two hours away, if not three. Was there a clinic between here and there? Was there a fucking treatment facility of any kind? Heading back into the resort would be suicide and he doubted their medical facilities could handle much more than a broken leg. He nearly turned around anyway. Yassen would settle for a fucking first aid station if he had to. Anything. Somewhere with gauze and a phone- Yassen hadn't grabbed either of theirs before they'd left.
Alex passed out. It was like someone had flicked a switch. One second, his eyes were open and glassy and the next they'd slid shut and he'd stopped moving.
"Alex?" Yassen almost shook him, but realized his hand was on the bullet wound a split second before he actually did so. "Alex, wake up."
Was he breathing still? Yassen couldn't tell and Alex was chronically cold…
His headlights passed over a wood and glass building as they rounded a corner of the canyon, a concrete sign labelling it Lower Snowflower Lodge. The small gravel parking lot was completely empty.
Right. One of the closed buildings for the season, too low in the canyon to offer access to what little snow there was.
It would have to do.
Yassen had just enough presence of mind to pull the car all the way to the back of the building. A smashed window later and he was in, shoving the door open wide and propping it open with a rock. Normally, he'd put more care into a break in, but a security alert to the police would be a blessing at this point. Most officers in America had some form of medical training. He bolted back to the car, gathering Alex up in his arms and hauling him inside.
Fortunately, the lowest level of the three story snow lodge was where the emergency first aid station resided. Most of the doors on this level were swinging ones and Yassen shoved his way forward, setting Alex on the first hospital-bed he found. Dim evening light shone through the windows, but Yassen didn't bother to turn on the light. It would only reveal their position. He ripped through the cabinets, grabbing every roll of gauze he could find.
