The journey took hours. Or maybe it was days, even. Steve couldn't tell; he spent most of it asleep. He was actually incredibly uncomfortable. The pain in his stomach still periodically returned, with renewed force, giving him an unpleasant reminder of his currently poor physical status like some kind of morbid alarm. He was warm, at least, but his arms were still crossed awkwardly across his torso, his cheek rested at a twisted angle against the headrest of the seat, jolting his face against the window every time the vehicle hit a particularly uneven patch of ground…and they were driving on snow, so there were a lot of those. Under any other circumstance, he probably would have found it all pretty damn funny. But in light of recent events, it was pretty damn not.
Leon stayed quiet for the most part, clearly concentrating on the road, or lack thereof. At certain intervals when he was awake, Steve would feel the older man's hand on his shoulder, and hear something along the lines of 'Are you okay?', or, 'How are you doing?', and Steve would generally grunt or hold his hand up in reply, but that was the limit to any kind of conversation between them. It didn't feel awkward, though. Nor was there any kind of bad feeling between them. It was just…calm. The annoying thing was, honestly, that Steve did want to talk to him. He wanted to know more about his mysterious saviour. He wanted to ask him where he was from, why he was there, and where they were going. But most of all, he wanted to know what was going to happen to him when they got there. However, the rest of the journey, just as the beginning, was in silence. No matter how long he slept for, Steve felt exhausted. So much so that he couldn't even muster the energy to open his mouth and make words come out. He just wanted nothing more than a proper bed. Hell, a blanket on the floor would be fine, as long as it was indoors, and that indoors wasn't on wheels.
"We're nearly there. Just hold on a little longer. We're taking a boat, but there's a cabin below the deck. You'll be able to sleep there."
Steve looked up slowly, his neck, having been in the same twisted position for several hours, throbbing slightly in protest at the movement. He managed a little nod of his head; enough to show that he'd heard what Leon had said, but couldn't find the strength to do anything more. He felt as though his body was betraying him.
They pulled up at what looked like an old military checkpoint. The snowy ground there was scattered with gravel, flattened and compacted with years of use, and slightly covered under a sheet of freshly fallen snow. There were several buildings there, spaced close together in a square shape, leaving a makeshift courtyard in the centre, where there were some empty wooden crates stacked haphazardly in one corner, and an old, clearly unusable heavy goods vehicle, with one of the tires missing, parked behind the buildings, half covered with black tarpaulin. The buildings were clearly sturdy; meant to survive the harsh weather conditions, and were reinforced with steel plating across the walls and the rooves, and thick window shutters, but the steel was rusted and flaking. It obviously hadn't been used in a long time, and something about it was particularly unsettling. The only reassuring aspect was a small dock leading off from the courtyard, which looked like the only thing that was maintained to a usable standard. There was a small, but fairly modern looking boat moored there, and it was clear, by the way it stood out from the rest of the scenery, that it was the way Leon had travelled, and it was the way they were going to travel now.
With the vehicle parked close to the dock, Leon took no hesitation in springing back into action, pulling on a thick, dark brown jacket lined with cream fleece, not even taking the time to fasten it up, before he jumped out through the door on his side and opened the back of the truck, pulling out his backpack and dropping it onto the ground by his feet. In that time, Steve had managed, pathetically and slowly, to wrestle the recovery blanket from his body and force it down into the space by his feet. He could already hear Leon moving more things around in the back of the truck, and he was feeling pretty useless, so the least he could do was get 'himself' ready. However, he was soon reminded of the fact that he wasn't wearing any shoes, when he tried to use his foot to push open the door, and realised that his toes were a slightly blue colour, and that he couldn't feel them. At any other time, the situation would call for more serious and immediate action, despite being barefoot, but Steve was pretty damn sure that in the Antarctic, and with low blood sugar, shoeless-ness could probably kill you…or at least lose you some toes.
Once again, though, Leon, as though reading his mind, was quick to the rescue, coming around from the back of the van and opening the passenger door, dropping a thick pair of socks into Steve's lap.
"I don't have any spare shoes, but this should do for now. All you have to do is get onto the boat, okay?"
Steve nodded a little again in reply, pulling the socks on slowly, trying his best to show some kind of competence as an eighteen year old who could put his socks on by himself.
Leon was clearly an incredible person. Throughout all of this…coming to this freezing, barren wasteland, dealing with the horrors he must have seen in the facility, days of driving without sleep, working completely alone, and with no respite in knowing that it was going to be over soon…he never once showed a falter in his determination. He was completely sure of his own capabilities; unwavering. It was truly admirable. And it was this that made Steve feel like so much of a pathetic mess in front of him. If he could only show Leon what he was really like. He was strong. He knew he was smart. He could handle a gun pretty well, too. He could only hope that first impressions didn't always leave a 'lasting' impression.
"Hey, it's gonna be okay. You must be exhausted, and your body will be weakened by the cold, too, but you're doing really well. You should be proud of yourself."
Steve froze, taking some time to absorb the words. Here he was, thinking about how useless and pitiable he must seem, and yet Leon was actually 'praising' him. And even though he was sure that it was all just talk, it made him feel so much better, that he felt a little of his strength return. Enough to get out of the truck and stay upright, at least.
That was clearly another thing to add to the list of Leon's many talents. He was one of those people who always knew the right thing to say. In this case, it was a constant confirmation, constant recognition and constant reassurance. Whatever Steve did, Leon would praise him or tell him that it would be okay. And, well, it all had been so far, so what reason did Steve have to doubt him?
If he had been rescued by somebody else…by someone who didn't really 'care' like Leon did…would he have been able to make it at all?
Then, interrupting Steve's internal musings yet again, Leon had his arm around the boy's waist, supporting him and taking most of his weight as he helped him onto the boat in the dock, hurrying him through the door and sitting him inside on a leather coated bench beside the boat's controls and the wheel. It had taken such little time and effort, that Steve had barely noticed how cold it was outside.
"I won't be long." Leon held up a hand briefly, before hopping back across from the boat to the dock and running back to the truck.
Steve watched, slightly dumbstruck, as Leon lifted a crate almost half the size of a small car out of the back of the truck, placing it by his feet briefly to close the doors, before picking it up again and carrying it down the dock and onto the boat, placing it down in a corner of the small 'room'. Sure, it was obvious that Leon was strong, and that he'd probably gone through a lot of training, but, as male physiques go, Leon was quite slim. He certainly didn't look as though he could lift…whatever it was in the huge crate he'd just lifted.
"…Please…tell me that's…empty." Steve nodded towards the crate dubiously, and Leon simply shook his head, looking amused.
"It's just some supplies."
He then moved back out onto the dock, unfastening the rope holding the boat to it and throwing it across through the doorway, pushing the vessel further into the water with his foot, before jumping back across the widened gap, pulling the door closed behind him in the same movement. He made everything look so easy, it was fascinating to watch.
"Now, c'mon. You really need to rest. I'm gonna get you to a hospital as soon as I can, okay?" Leon pulled Steve up from the bench carefully, this time holding his arm fairly tightly around the boy's shoulders, leading him down a short set of stairs and under the deck of the ship into a dark, compact cabin.
There was a bed built into the wall at one side, with cupboards above and below, and, opposite that, a small seating area and a table. There was a kitchen, too, boasting a variety of modern appliances, despite its miniature size. It was a little claustrophobic, but everything was well spaced out and minimalistic, making it appear much more comfortable than cramped, especially to Steve.
With a little more help from Leon, Steve managed to remove the coat and the gloves he was wearing and get into the bed, feeling so warm and so relieved that the moment he was lying still, his eyelids felt so heavy with fatigue that he couldn't keep them open. He could faintly hear Leon talking, but his voice sounded too distant to understand what he was saying. He barely recalled a hand rest against his shoulder, before, for the first time in almost two years, he fell into a welcoming, dreamless sleep.
