A/N: Sequel to Chapter 4: Hidden Injury.

Nigel frowned as he watched Sydney weave on the path. While she had said she was fine, Nigel really wasn't so sure. Usually steady even in unfamiliar terrain, her inability to walk in a straight line concerned him and that ability had been diminishing the longer they walked; on top of that she was choosing her steps carefully, staring at the ground. She was also walking much slower than her usual pace – his own breathing was barely strained as he followed her.

He was following her closer than he usually would, nerves forming knots in his stomach. If she was truly injured out here, how was he going to get help? How bad was it, whatever was going on with her?

"Sydney?" he called out when he saw her press her hand to her side. She didn't respond. "Sydney?" he said again. He reached out and caught her by the waist as she tripped over nothing that he could see. She gasped and with that he'd had enough. He turned her to face him and she grabbed him to steady herself even as Nigel's hands held onto her waist again. She swayed, and he noticed that her eyes were unfocused. He grasped Sydney's left wrist and pulled her hand from where it rested on his neck to look at it. Blood.

"What –?" Nigel started and then changed his mind. It was clear she was bleeding and he had figured out that it was her left side all ready. The other things he wanted to ask her could wait. "Let me see." Instead of arguing or actually deigning to show him the injury, or anything else he'd expect from his stubborn girlfriend, her eyes rolled back in her head and she collapsed against him, unconscious.

It was only years of physical activity and facing the unexpected that enabled him to catch her as she fell. He lowered her to the ground and knelt beside her, peeling at her shirt to see exactly how bad the injury was, trepidation on his features as he felt the wet fabric. There was dried blood smeared over her skin but he could see what was still bleeding – the three inch incision. He swore. There was no way for him to know if the wound was clean, and he guessed it was from her earlier fight with Aldan and chances were slim. Two things were clear: she needed medical attention immediately, and they were nowhere near professional medical services.

Nigel shrugged off his backpack and dropped it beside him, rifling through it for their first aid supplies. He knew some first aid, had taken a class here and there, but wasn't prepared for this level of care, especially if there was internal bleeding. As he pulled out the first aid kit and unzipped it he noticed his hands were shaking. Shit. He had to stay calm. Nigel fought to take a deep breath, in through his nose and out through his mouth. This was not a time to panic, although he would really like to; Sydney wasn't there to calm him down though, and wasn't that just great.

It took him a couple of tries to tear open the gauze packet, with how much his hands were still shaking, and he bent his head, his hands to his forehead in frustration. Breathe. After a minute of trying to even out his breath and heartrate, he continued, pressing gauze to Sydney's stomach. It turned red quickly. He pulled out another pack and ripped it open, layered the gauze and watched the red seep through. Nigel's heart hammered in his chest and the panic he had been pushing down bubbled to the surface.

It was no use; the gauze just kept turning red despite the layers he was putting down. He tossed the wrappings back into the backpack and pulled out the tape. He began to tape the gauze to Sydney's stomach, in a last attempt to staunch the bleeding. Done, he threw the tape into the backpack as well as the rest of the first aid kit.

Sydney's chest was still rising and falling, so Nigel was assured she was still breathing. Nevertheless he placed two fingers to her carotid artery and felt relief at the heartbeat under his fingertips. Finally he looked up and was startled to see how much later in the day it was. He glanced at his watch and noticed with alarm that he had spent a good 20 minutes they really didn't have bandaging the wound.

With no other choice – leaving her would be like leaving her to the wolves (or rather a jaguar or a snake or some other horrifying creature), and it would take time to bring help out here – he slipped his arms through the straps of the backpack and gently pulled off her satchel to sling it over his head and considered Sydney. Her arms he placed on her torso so they wouldn't dangle awkwardly, and slid his arms under her legs and back and lifted her. He wished for a brief moment that Derek Lloyd or Dallas Carter were there – both of them were the body builder types and Sydney was dead weight – but dismissed the thought quickly, and shifted her so her head rested against his shoulder. He began to walk. Laden down by Sydney, the backpack, and satchel as he was, it was hard for him to reach a good pace but he was determined to get her to treatment. It was several minutes later that he realized it was her injured side pressed against him, but now that he was walking and had a momentum he was reluctant to stop. She didn't make a sound, either in pain or comfort so he pressed on.

Anger and desperation were his driving forces – he used them to keep up his pace. He was angry at Aldan for being a prick, angry at how far away they were from medical treatment, and angry at Sydney for not telling him that she was hurt. Did she think he wasn't capable of helping? Of support? She might be right – he didn't know if he'd actually get them out of here. On the other hand, he was absolutely desperate to get her help, to keep her alive. His sloppy bandages he was sure were doing nothing, and he felt useless. All he knew was that he couldn't bear it if she died, if he never got to see her smile again, argue with her, kiss her. He kept walking, his thoughts distracting him from the strain in is muscles, the pull in his back. The pain of losing her would be much greater.

It was with no small amount of relief that he reached the outskirts of the city and a passing car stopped, the driver offering them a drive to the nearest hospital where he paced the waiting room agitatedly for what felt like hours before they let him sit beside her bed. He settled beside her and took her hand in his just so she'd know he was there, even as she slept. It wasn't long before he fell asleep in the uncomfortable hospital chair, in the knowledge that she was as safe as she could be for the time being.