Oliver's eyes flickered, and then shut again. Everything was black. Rapidly, a shooting pain extending from the side of his head to the ache in his legs came into reality. He moaned and rolled over onto his side. His lungs burned as they came accustomed to the smoke in the air and he reached out to feel the wound on his head, expecting uncongealed blood. But, as his hand met his cranium, instead of the stickiness of the blood that he had been anticipating, he felt a soft material that had been wrapped carefully around the gash. He couldn't have been unconscious for that long could he? Slowly, he opened his eyes, glancing around and wincing as they adjusted to the light. His first sight was the trembling figure of Jac Naylor, leaning on the wall of the lift behind, her arms stretched around her knees in a protective circle. She was still in a state of utter terror, repeatedly muttering to herself that everything was going to be ok. She hadn't even noticed that Ollie was conscious.
It's going to be fine. Don't worry, they will come and get you. But, isn't that what I said last time? For an instant, she was six years old, the blackness forcing her back to the nine hours of crushing darkness that haunted her still. Shaking her head almost violently to defeat the conquering memories, Jac angrily wiped away the dirt on her face, cursing her self for being so pathetic. She stole a glance at her F2, and found that he was awake. Panic found her then. Had he seen her weakness?
"Finally decided to join me Dr Valentine?" she uttered, her voice faltering at the edges. Instead of expressing a reply, Oliver lifted himself up slowly and rested his head onto the end of the lift, only flinching slightly as the wound stung. "I don't think the flea circus will take you in that condition Ollie, you better withdraw your application." Jac smirked, her voice strengthening as her Ice-Queen exterior became more apparent.
"Yeah, I don't think they would have chosen me anyway – I'm too tall." Oliver replied, getting a rare smile from his mentee. He paused and studied his colleague slowly and fixed her eyes with a confused stare. "Did you do this?" He asked, gesturing to his head.
"Who do you think did it, Nelly the Elephant?" Jac mocked, her eyes travelling around the room.
"Right, yeah, of course." Oliver muttered, amazed at his own stupidity.
"Thanks is traditional." Jac said, her eyes now examining the jacket she had placed around Oliver's head.
"Umm… yeah… Thanks." Ollie ended the conversation awkwardly; he tweaked his tie self-consciously, the thought only just occurring to him that he was on the opposite side of the lift to which he had started. He turned to his mentor, who was now rocking backwards and forwards slightly, wondering if she was also hurt. As his eyes travelled over her slim figure, he noticed the lack of scratches or bruises but the excess blood that had covered her top. Guess that's mine. He thought. Satisfied that Jac had come to no physical harm, Oliver turned his mind to speculate what had happened. Had there been an explosion? Had the lift fell? Is anyone else hurt? So many questions, hardly any answers. All of a sudden, a voice erupted into the lift, making Jac and Ollie turn there heads in unison to the speaker positioned by the doors. The accent flowed through them like a ghost, its pang of American not in the least annoying as usual, but came with a sense of welcoming reprieve.
"Hello?" The voice of Michael Spence echoed from wall to wall. Oliver scrambled to the panel with the metal grill and pressed the intercom underneath.
"Yes! Michael?" Oliver yelled, turning to Jac to share the relief that someone had found them, but she had made no effort to move.
"Oliver, is it just you in there?" Michael asked, his tone of voice concerned but hurried.
"No, Ms Naylor's here as well. What happened?"
"We don't know yet. We've sent a team down to collect you, but it will take at least two hours."
"Two hours?" Oliver whined, the irritation in his voice rising. He looked to Jac, if anyone could make them move faster, it would be her. Oliver's heart thumped. Jac's complexion had gone deathly pale, her eyes glazing over. Quickly, Oliver leaped over the briefcase that was now sprawled across the floor; soon all he could hear was the soft groans from his colleague and the resounding thump of each heartbeat. Jac tried to utter some words but they came out as an unknown whisper. She clutched at her arm in pain, blood seeping from the wound. Oliver threw a half angry glance at Jac. Why hadn't she told him? "Michael!" he bellowed. "We have to get her out now!"
