Author's Notes: Well. Half of this was written during a lecture in my class. The other half was written while I was falling asleep. Is it even coherent? ^^ Additonally, I had no idea where it was going, and now the one scene I'd imagined is unworkable. So! Different ending is in store. Looks like next chapter will wrap it all up.
Thanks so much for reviewing!
Warnings? Yaoi. Gippal x Baralai. Language. Enjoy!
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A Bit of Luck
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Chapter 3
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It was just past noon on the following day that Gippal heard the sound.
Barely audible over the fall of footsteps in sand, it nonetheless nearly stopped his heart: a low noise, something like a gasp that turned halfway into a sob. And then came the sound of flesh connecting with sand, and he knew immediately what had happened.
"Shit," someone swore softly, though Gippal's mind was too distracted to register who.
He was already moving, turning to face Baralai, cursing softly at himself for listening to the boy when he'd insisted that he was alright to walk. Their companion had fallen nearly ten paces behind, and it was this distance that Gippal closed with hurried steps, falling to one knee in the sand as he reached toward the boy.
Baralai was lying face-down, unmoving, evidently having pitched forward mid-step. Lifting the boy gently, Gippal took note of the unhealthy flush that was visible even through the darkness of the boy's skin.
For a moment in silence, the Al Bhed boy watched Baralai's chest as it rose and fell in shaky gasps and his lips, cracked with desert travel. Still breathing, Gippal's mind assured him, and inwardly a relief so strong that it bordered violence poured over him.
At length, Nooj spoke. His voice sounded drawn, and there was an infrequent hint of concern amidst the commanding air. "Get out a sleeping bag."
It was a sign of how much the man had changed, Gippal supposed, that no suggestion was made of leaving the boy.
Paine moved to comply, and there was a rustling as the girl fumbled open her pack-- and then she was bending to kneel beside Gippal, unrolling the fabric and smoothing it out. They moved together, not needing to ask what ought to be done. Gippal hooked his hands through the boy's arms while Paine seized his ankles, and it was short work to get him onto the sleeping bag.
Nooj had closed the distance between them; when he spoke, his voice drifted from just behind Gippal. "Lift him," the man commanded, joining the pair awkwardly on the sand. One hand reached absently to pull his pack nearer.
"Yeah, sure." Rubbing his hands together, Gippal lifted the boy gingerly into a half-sitting position, supporting him with a hand on either shoulder. "Got him."
"Good." The man spared them a brief glance, most of his attention focused on finding something amidst his equipment. "Now, Paine, take his shirt off."
"Right," the girl was quick to reply, though her hands shook a little as she fumbled at the clasp of Baralai's overcoat. It came off easily enough; Gippal guided the sleeves over the unconscious boy's arms and left it in a heap on the sand. By the time they'd succeeded in divesting him of the white shirt underneath, Nooj had found the rest of their bandages.
"Okay," the man began, turning to face them. "Now, I need you to hold him up a bit more." Their leader paused, expectant, but Gippal didn't respond.
He was too busy staring at the bandages wrapped around Baralai's torso, now caked brown with dried blood.
The Al Bhed boy gritted his teeth, hoisting his companion higher. "Uv ymm dra cdibet, cdippunh cred ra luimt'ja bimmat... (Of all the stupid, stubborn shit he could've pulled...)"
He was so angry, in fact, that he didn't realize Nooj had finished until the man stood, dusting sand from his pants. "We need to keep moving," he announced.
"Right," Gippal conceded unhappily, laying the boy back against the fabric of the sleeping bag. He was moving to stand when he froze, catching sight of fresh blood on the clean white fabric wrapped around the boy's chest.
"He's bleeding still?" the Al Bhed demanded, eye narrowing as he leaned forward for a better look.
Nooj shook his head once. "It tore." His words were clipped, displeased. "The bandages stuck, and we couldn't spare the water."
Much as he hated to, Gippal could see the logic in that. But the spot of bright red against the too-white bandages was growing, and he couldn't help the worry that had come to settle in the pit of his stomach.
"Paine," Nooj instructed, "Put your sphere away. Get his gun."
Looking shaken, the girl did as she was told. For a fleeting moment, Gippal wondered if she knew how to shoot. It was a concern quickly pushed aside, though; if they were attacked with any sort of force, he doubted that they'd survive it, regardless.
Behind his glasses, Nooj's eyes were determined. "Right. Let's get moving."
Lifting his end of the sleeping bag, Gippal began to limp through the sand once more.
===============
The first shot fired was Paine's. And later, when Gippal had time to think about it, he would be impressed.
His instinct had been to call to the man atop the dune for help-- because even had they possessed full rations, and even if they hadn't been in the middle of the desert, Baralai needed healing.
When they talked it over some weeks later, Paine would claim that she'd put several simple facts together: One, that the walls surrounding their destination camp were supposed to be constructed of ruined machina. Two, that for the past half-hour or so, they'd been encountering random bits of cogs and circuitry that Gippal would have loved dearly to take apart in any other situation. Three, that in order to pass this section of the training, the camp was to be entered by force.
At the time, Gippal thought that the girl had just been jumpy, and squeezed the trigger too quickly. And for all that she protested otherwise, he suspected that was the truth of it.
Regardless of the reason, however, the shot was fired, and the next few seconds were a blur of motion.
Near the guard at the top of the hill, another appeared; then another, and one after that. He knew that the bullets had begun flying when the sand nearby flew up in bursts, was half-aware that Nooj had dropped his half of the sleeping bag and was returning fire.
The Al Bhed boy stood frozen for a moment, mind alternately refusing to process the situation and insisting that he do something-- anything-- to get the wounded boy out of the range of fire.
He never got time to react, though, because that was when they threw the first grenade.
Gippal hit the ground hard, feeling the first of the burns that would bother him later as a distant sting under the adrenaline. Sand poured down around him in a steady roar, stung his eye and found its way in between his lips.
And somehow, through it all, he discovered a dark, delicate hand-- and when his fingers closed on it, the hand clung desperately. He found the boy at the other end of it even as the second grenade came bursting in, and the Al Bhed hauled Baralai to his feet and a few lurching steps away from the guards atop the dune.
"Cover." Gippal didn't recognize his own voice. It was too thick with sand and lack of water, but he tried again anyway, in hopes that Nooj and Paine would hear. "Cover!"
And then he was dragging Baralai behind him, ignoring the sand in the air and the fact that they were both knocked to the ground by another blast.
Another few steps would be enough. Just another few steps, and they'd have the cover of a ruined sheet of metal wedged upright in the sand. He'd wondered what it was for as they passed it the first time; now, he didn't much care, as long as it proved to be enough for their needs.
Their shelter held, and they waited. It was too long a time that they listened to their own breathing, harsh and raspy, and to gunfire and the sound of explosions.
And then, very suddenly, the fight beyond their cover came to a stop. Nothing filled the desert air but pained gasps, and Gippal's mind couldn't decide whether their companions had been shot or had succeeded. Certainly, it was too great a risk simply to call out for them. He hadn't paid attention to the rules of this training session, and now desperately wished he'd thought to; at least that way, he'd know whether the guards were instructed merely to patrol the fortifications or to take an offensive role.
Even as he turned the options round and round in his head, a new idea occurred to him. Baralai had never fallen asleep during a briefing for their training sessions. He'd know exactly what the guards were meant to do, would have memorized all the rules, if only so that a way could be found around them.
It was only when Gippal turned to face the boy, though, that he realized the flaw in his plan: Baralai had passed out again.
~end part 3~
Thanks so much for reviewing!
Warnings? Yaoi. Gippal x Baralai. Language. Enjoy!
===============
A Bit of Luck
===============
Chapter 3
===============
It was just past noon on the following day that Gippal heard the sound.
Barely audible over the fall of footsteps in sand, it nonetheless nearly stopped his heart: a low noise, something like a gasp that turned halfway into a sob. And then came the sound of flesh connecting with sand, and he knew immediately what had happened.
"Shit," someone swore softly, though Gippal's mind was too distracted to register who.
He was already moving, turning to face Baralai, cursing softly at himself for listening to the boy when he'd insisted that he was alright to walk. Their companion had fallen nearly ten paces behind, and it was this distance that Gippal closed with hurried steps, falling to one knee in the sand as he reached toward the boy.
Baralai was lying face-down, unmoving, evidently having pitched forward mid-step. Lifting the boy gently, Gippal took note of the unhealthy flush that was visible even through the darkness of the boy's skin.
For a moment in silence, the Al Bhed boy watched Baralai's chest as it rose and fell in shaky gasps and his lips, cracked with desert travel. Still breathing, Gippal's mind assured him, and inwardly a relief so strong that it bordered violence poured over him.
At length, Nooj spoke. His voice sounded drawn, and there was an infrequent hint of concern amidst the commanding air. "Get out a sleeping bag."
It was a sign of how much the man had changed, Gippal supposed, that no suggestion was made of leaving the boy.
Paine moved to comply, and there was a rustling as the girl fumbled open her pack-- and then she was bending to kneel beside Gippal, unrolling the fabric and smoothing it out. They moved together, not needing to ask what ought to be done. Gippal hooked his hands through the boy's arms while Paine seized his ankles, and it was short work to get him onto the sleeping bag.
Nooj had closed the distance between them; when he spoke, his voice drifted from just behind Gippal. "Lift him," the man commanded, joining the pair awkwardly on the sand. One hand reached absently to pull his pack nearer.
"Yeah, sure." Rubbing his hands together, Gippal lifted the boy gingerly into a half-sitting position, supporting him with a hand on either shoulder. "Got him."
"Good." The man spared them a brief glance, most of his attention focused on finding something amidst his equipment. "Now, Paine, take his shirt off."
"Right," the girl was quick to reply, though her hands shook a little as she fumbled at the clasp of Baralai's overcoat. It came off easily enough; Gippal guided the sleeves over the unconscious boy's arms and left it in a heap on the sand. By the time they'd succeeded in divesting him of the white shirt underneath, Nooj had found the rest of their bandages.
"Okay," the man began, turning to face them. "Now, I need you to hold him up a bit more." Their leader paused, expectant, but Gippal didn't respond.
He was too busy staring at the bandages wrapped around Baralai's torso, now caked brown with dried blood.
The Al Bhed boy gritted his teeth, hoisting his companion higher. "Uv ymm dra cdibet, cdippunh cred ra luimt'ja bimmat... (Of all the stupid, stubborn shit he could've pulled...)"
He was so angry, in fact, that he didn't realize Nooj had finished until the man stood, dusting sand from his pants. "We need to keep moving," he announced.
"Right," Gippal conceded unhappily, laying the boy back against the fabric of the sleeping bag. He was moving to stand when he froze, catching sight of fresh blood on the clean white fabric wrapped around the boy's chest.
"He's bleeding still?" the Al Bhed demanded, eye narrowing as he leaned forward for a better look.
Nooj shook his head once. "It tore." His words were clipped, displeased. "The bandages stuck, and we couldn't spare the water."
Much as he hated to, Gippal could see the logic in that. But the spot of bright red against the too-white bandages was growing, and he couldn't help the worry that had come to settle in the pit of his stomach.
"Paine," Nooj instructed, "Put your sphere away. Get his gun."
Looking shaken, the girl did as she was told. For a fleeting moment, Gippal wondered if she knew how to shoot. It was a concern quickly pushed aside, though; if they were attacked with any sort of force, he doubted that they'd survive it, regardless.
Behind his glasses, Nooj's eyes were determined. "Right. Let's get moving."
Lifting his end of the sleeping bag, Gippal began to limp through the sand once more.
===============
The first shot fired was Paine's. And later, when Gippal had time to think about it, he would be impressed.
His instinct had been to call to the man atop the dune for help-- because even had they possessed full rations, and even if they hadn't been in the middle of the desert, Baralai needed healing.
When they talked it over some weeks later, Paine would claim that she'd put several simple facts together: One, that the walls surrounding their destination camp were supposed to be constructed of ruined machina. Two, that for the past half-hour or so, they'd been encountering random bits of cogs and circuitry that Gippal would have loved dearly to take apart in any other situation. Three, that in order to pass this section of the training, the camp was to be entered by force.
At the time, Gippal thought that the girl had just been jumpy, and squeezed the trigger too quickly. And for all that she protested otherwise, he suspected that was the truth of it.
Regardless of the reason, however, the shot was fired, and the next few seconds were a blur of motion.
Near the guard at the top of the hill, another appeared; then another, and one after that. He knew that the bullets had begun flying when the sand nearby flew up in bursts, was half-aware that Nooj had dropped his half of the sleeping bag and was returning fire.
The Al Bhed boy stood frozen for a moment, mind alternately refusing to process the situation and insisting that he do something-- anything-- to get the wounded boy out of the range of fire.
He never got time to react, though, because that was when they threw the first grenade.
Gippal hit the ground hard, feeling the first of the burns that would bother him later as a distant sting under the adrenaline. Sand poured down around him in a steady roar, stung his eye and found its way in between his lips.
And somehow, through it all, he discovered a dark, delicate hand-- and when his fingers closed on it, the hand clung desperately. He found the boy at the other end of it even as the second grenade came bursting in, and the Al Bhed hauled Baralai to his feet and a few lurching steps away from the guards atop the dune.
"Cover." Gippal didn't recognize his own voice. It was too thick with sand and lack of water, but he tried again anyway, in hopes that Nooj and Paine would hear. "Cover!"
And then he was dragging Baralai behind him, ignoring the sand in the air and the fact that they were both knocked to the ground by another blast.
Another few steps would be enough. Just another few steps, and they'd have the cover of a ruined sheet of metal wedged upright in the sand. He'd wondered what it was for as they passed it the first time; now, he didn't much care, as long as it proved to be enough for their needs.
Their shelter held, and they waited. It was too long a time that they listened to their own breathing, harsh and raspy, and to gunfire and the sound of explosions.
And then, very suddenly, the fight beyond their cover came to a stop. Nothing filled the desert air but pained gasps, and Gippal's mind couldn't decide whether their companions had been shot or had succeeded. Certainly, it was too great a risk simply to call out for them. He hadn't paid attention to the rules of this training session, and now desperately wished he'd thought to; at least that way, he'd know whether the guards were instructed merely to patrol the fortifications or to take an offensive role.
Even as he turned the options round and round in his head, a new idea occurred to him. Baralai had never fallen asleep during a briefing for their training sessions. He'd know exactly what the guards were meant to do, would have memorized all the rules, if only so that a way could be found around them.
It was only when Gippal turned to face the boy, though, that he realized the flaw in his plan: Baralai had passed out again.
~end part 3~