Author's Notes: Huh. I'd meant to start relationship-building in this one, but they seem to be taking their time. I promised a friend a make-out scene, though, so it's bound to happen eventually. ^^
Uhm, same as the last chapter: if anyone notices any detail inaccuracy, point it out. So, too, with out-of-characterness.
Warnings? Yaoi. Gippal x Baralai. Enjoy!
===============
A Bit of Luck
===============
Chapter 2
===============
It was some seven hours later that they finally stopped for the day, long after the chill of night had begun creeping past the protection afforded by his overcoat.
He'd been grateful when at last the sun had crept below the horizon; its absence meant that the blistering heat would finally leave them in peace. The only other blessing in what had been so far an endless stream of miniature disasters: Nooj had decided against a fire, allowing him the freedom of finding a spot on the sand immediately, with no need for concern over appearances.
In all honesty, the boy had been fighting just to put one foot in front of the other when Nooj had ordered them to stop for the night. He'd been dreading the scrutiny that doubtless would have come in the flickering light of a campfire; Baralai didn't delude himself into thinking that his companions would miss the fact that he'd simply ceased to use his right arm.
Of course, it wasn't the arm that was wounded. That, he could have handled. Made a sling for it, been careful not to move it too frequently.
It was his entire side that seemed to be on fire, though, great knife-twists of pain assaulting him every time he drew breath. It had gotten to the point that, every time he lifted his arm, the resulting tug of flesh had him seeing small black dots. And so, he simply didn't use the arm.
After a day with every step spent wishing that he could die quietly, the sand was blessedly cold and soft beneath his palms. Before his mind had managed a coherent protest, he'd lain down, cheek pressed against the tiny grains as he listened to the debate that was still raging.
"It's out of the question." That would be Nooj. The boy didn't even need to see the disapproval in his face; the tone was enough to convey everything. "Absolutely not."
"Have you ever -spent- the night in the desert without a fire?" And there was Gippal, quick with a retort as always. "You might wanna die, but none of the rest of us do!"
Had the pain been a little less, Baralai might have joined in the now-familiar banter. Antagonizing Nooj was a good way to pass the time, certainly-- but the Al Bhed boy had a knack for making something of a game of it. It was just easier to have fun when Gippal was involved, he supposed.
"Attracting fiends won't help," Nooj insisted. He didn't seem about to give any ground, nor did his protest have any of the for-show-only quality that Gippal's did.
Paine's voice ventured in next, a bit heavier with near-exhaustion. "We do have sleeping bags," she pointed out. "We shouldn't freeze to death."
"Cruimth'd (Shouldn't)." Gippal snorted a laugh. "Usually I'd agree. Lately, though, I'd be surprised if we didn't."
From his place on the sand, Baralai cringed. It was hard not to be reminded of a simple fact: the whole nightmare chain of events from the last few days had begun as his fault. And truthfully, the boy was a firm believer that the whole situation remained that way, still.
His mind had taken to replaying the scene several times an hour: their leader, cool and composed, peering into Baralai's pack in search of the map. He wanted a progress update, and the boy had complied, removing the neatly folded document from the inner pocket of his overcoat. He didn't like keeping the map in with their other equipment, he'd explained.
It might get lost.
And oh, Gippal had been making light of it-- and Paine and Nooj had for the most part avoided placing the blame-- but it was true just the same. And since the map had been destroyed, very little -hadn't- gone wrong.
With the four of them injured and suddenly uncertain as to their destination, they'd been slowed considerably. True enough, he knew the direction that they were supposed to be aiming for-- but the desert was so uniform in its utter lack of landmarks that they could have literally walked within a hundred yards of their target and passed on by, never knowing.
It had been a day of uncertainty, a day of worry and second-guessing himself. He'd known very well that if they didn't complete the endurance training section of the program, none of them would be getting into the Crimson squad.
The day after had managed to prove even worse, however. The first light of morning had brought the realization that they hadn't been alone for the entire night: their packs were torn, the contents strewn about on the sand. That it seemed to be the work of a wild animal was a blessing of sorts, Baralai had to remind himself. Any fiend that moved silently enough to get past the person on guard would simply have killed them all.
The end result, though, was nearly as bad. All the food was missing. Fortunately, only one of the canteens had yielded to the force of the teeth that had left such prominent marks on the others. Still, the rations that had been only half of what they'd grown accustomed to were gone, and now they were low on water.
Baralai had been confident that they could reach the designated finish camp well ahead of time. With the loss of the map, though, their chances of finding the place at all were slim.
And then, a hundred tiny calamities had set in, beginning the afternoon before and carrying over to today. Sand had insinuated itself into the joints of Nooj's leg. For a time, Paine's sphere had mysteriously ceased to work. Gippal's hair, notoriously untamable, had wilted under the desert sun. Fiends abounded, and the pain coursing through him was great enough that he had to think twice before raising his arm to shoot.
Gippal's impromptu travel break had been the only relief in the bleary hours of agony. He'd meant to thank the boy, but the dark glare that Nooj had been sporting was enough to kill the comment before it left his lips. Later, he told himself. Remember to do it later.
If they got a later.
He was barely conscious to hear the end of the conversation; the dark above and stretching out to either side blurred together, throbbing red in time with the pulse in his side. He hadn't realized that they'd been talking as his thoughts wandered, hadn't been following along. Only now did Paine's voice come, as though from a long way away, bringing up the subject of first watch.
They talked more; voices flitted back and forth in tones that were familiar to him, though the meaning of the conversation remained just beyond his reach. Vaguely, he became aware that someone was saying his name, again and again, recognized the impatient tone that Nooj resorted to just before his worst moods hit.
Somehow, it was only Gippal's words that pierced through the exhaustion shrouding his brain. "Oh, let him sleep. I'll wake him when it's his turn."
But it was morning when Gippal shook his shoulder gently, peering down with a worried smile.
~end part 2~
Uhm, same as the last chapter: if anyone notices any detail inaccuracy, point it out. So, too, with out-of-characterness.
Warnings? Yaoi. Gippal x Baralai. Enjoy!
===============
A Bit of Luck
===============
Chapter 2
===============
It was some seven hours later that they finally stopped for the day, long after the chill of night had begun creeping past the protection afforded by his overcoat.
He'd been grateful when at last the sun had crept below the horizon; its absence meant that the blistering heat would finally leave them in peace. The only other blessing in what had been so far an endless stream of miniature disasters: Nooj had decided against a fire, allowing him the freedom of finding a spot on the sand immediately, with no need for concern over appearances.
In all honesty, the boy had been fighting just to put one foot in front of the other when Nooj had ordered them to stop for the night. He'd been dreading the scrutiny that doubtless would have come in the flickering light of a campfire; Baralai didn't delude himself into thinking that his companions would miss the fact that he'd simply ceased to use his right arm.
Of course, it wasn't the arm that was wounded. That, he could have handled. Made a sling for it, been careful not to move it too frequently.
It was his entire side that seemed to be on fire, though, great knife-twists of pain assaulting him every time he drew breath. It had gotten to the point that, every time he lifted his arm, the resulting tug of flesh had him seeing small black dots. And so, he simply didn't use the arm.
After a day with every step spent wishing that he could die quietly, the sand was blessedly cold and soft beneath his palms. Before his mind had managed a coherent protest, he'd lain down, cheek pressed against the tiny grains as he listened to the debate that was still raging.
"It's out of the question." That would be Nooj. The boy didn't even need to see the disapproval in his face; the tone was enough to convey everything. "Absolutely not."
"Have you ever -spent- the night in the desert without a fire?" And there was Gippal, quick with a retort as always. "You might wanna die, but none of the rest of us do!"
Had the pain been a little less, Baralai might have joined in the now-familiar banter. Antagonizing Nooj was a good way to pass the time, certainly-- but the Al Bhed boy had a knack for making something of a game of it. It was just easier to have fun when Gippal was involved, he supposed.
"Attracting fiends won't help," Nooj insisted. He didn't seem about to give any ground, nor did his protest have any of the for-show-only quality that Gippal's did.
Paine's voice ventured in next, a bit heavier with near-exhaustion. "We do have sleeping bags," she pointed out. "We shouldn't freeze to death."
"Cruimth'd (Shouldn't)." Gippal snorted a laugh. "Usually I'd agree. Lately, though, I'd be surprised if we didn't."
From his place on the sand, Baralai cringed. It was hard not to be reminded of a simple fact: the whole nightmare chain of events from the last few days had begun as his fault. And truthfully, the boy was a firm believer that the whole situation remained that way, still.
His mind had taken to replaying the scene several times an hour: their leader, cool and composed, peering into Baralai's pack in search of the map. He wanted a progress update, and the boy had complied, removing the neatly folded document from the inner pocket of his overcoat. He didn't like keeping the map in with their other equipment, he'd explained.
It might get lost.
And oh, Gippal had been making light of it-- and Paine and Nooj had for the most part avoided placing the blame-- but it was true just the same. And since the map had been destroyed, very little -hadn't- gone wrong.
With the four of them injured and suddenly uncertain as to their destination, they'd been slowed considerably. True enough, he knew the direction that they were supposed to be aiming for-- but the desert was so uniform in its utter lack of landmarks that they could have literally walked within a hundred yards of their target and passed on by, never knowing.
It had been a day of uncertainty, a day of worry and second-guessing himself. He'd known very well that if they didn't complete the endurance training section of the program, none of them would be getting into the Crimson squad.
The day after had managed to prove even worse, however. The first light of morning had brought the realization that they hadn't been alone for the entire night: their packs were torn, the contents strewn about on the sand. That it seemed to be the work of a wild animal was a blessing of sorts, Baralai had to remind himself. Any fiend that moved silently enough to get past the person on guard would simply have killed them all.
The end result, though, was nearly as bad. All the food was missing. Fortunately, only one of the canteens had yielded to the force of the teeth that had left such prominent marks on the others. Still, the rations that had been only half of what they'd grown accustomed to were gone, and now they were low on water.
Baralai had been confident that they could reach the designated finish camp well ahead of time. With the loss of the map, though, their chances of finding the place at all were slim.
And then, a hundred tiny calamities had set in, beginning the afternoon before and carrying over to today. Sand had insinuated itself into the joints of Nooj's leg. For a time, Paine's sphere had mysteriously ceased to work. Gippal's hair, notoriously untamable, had wilted under the desert sun. Fiends abounded, and the pain coursing through him was great enough that he had to think twice before raising his arm to shoot.
Gippal's impromptu travel break had been the only relief in the bleary hours of agony. He'd meant to thank the boy, but the dark glare that Nooj had been sporting was enough to kill the comment before it left his lips. Later, he told himself. Remember to do it later.
If they got a later.
He was barely conscious to hear the end of the conversation; the dark above and stretching out to either side blurred together, throbbing red in time with the pulse in his side. He hadn't realized that they'd been talking as his thoughts wandered, hadn't been following along. Only now did Paine's voice come, as though from a long way away, bringing up the subject of first watch.
They talked more; voices flitted back and forth in tones that were familiar to him, though the meaning of the conversation remained just beyond his reach. Vaguely, he became aware that someone was saying his name, again and again, recognized the impatient tone that Nooj resorted to just before his worst moods hit.
Somehow, it was only Gippal's words that pierced through the exhaustion shrouding his brain. "Oh, let him sleep. I'll wake him when it's his turn."
But it was morning when Gippal shook his shoulder gently, peering down with a worried smile.
~end part 2~