She’s half in his lap, gasping for breath when she mumbles his name. Blinks a few times and instantly starts to flail. “I’m blind! Oh god, Theo, I’m blind. I can’t see!”
He’s got no idea if that’s true or not, but suspects it’s the blood in her eyes that’s masking her vision.
They don’t know each other well enough for this. He hasn’t got a clue how to calm her down. How to do the right thing in a situation that’s so far out of his league for someone who barely makes conversation in a normal setting. Now, he’s got a terrified woman in his arms, and there’s no one here to do shit about it except him.
He grabs her before she can head butt the seat in front of her and holds her tightly to prevent the thrashing. Offering up stupid nonsense like ‘everything’s fine’ and ‘you’re okay’, which could be giant lies for all he knows. Instead, he tells her she’s probably not blind, only swimming in blood. Not the best way to phrase it, but she’s barely listening to the words, only howhe says them. Calm, even though he’s sacred as hell. Gentle, because she needs someone to be gentle with her right now.
It takes a few seconds, but gradually she stops panicking enough that he can take her face in his hands and carefully wipe the blood from her eyes with the edge of his shirt. Then she frantically wipes her own face to finish off what he started, and her tears do the rest.
“I can see you,” she whispers, frozen in place, overcome with emotion he isn’t ready for that quickly transforms from panic into something that looks like unexpected joy. “We’re alive.”
“We’re alive,” he agrees, eyes fixed on hers, only inches apart, both of them smiling like idiots all of a sudden because what should have killed them…didn’t.
They thought this was the end. Even through a hefty amount of dazed shock, the reality of their unexpected second chance is enough to have them briefly elated.
It’s not long before he realizes they’re too close and he’s still got her face in his hands, invading her space. He quickly lets her go, breaking eye contact as the bitter cold catches up to him all over again. “Are you okay? Anything hurting? You’ve got a small cut on your forehead, those always bleed like crazy.”
Nora shakes her head, glancing down at her stomach in confusion, where there’s a tiny metal rod poking right through her skin, soaking it crimson. “I don’t feel it.”
“Shit. Stay right there, don’t move. I’ll see if I can find something to patch that with.”
He’s gotta clean and dress it. Pull the rod out of her stomach before infection sets in, but it’s a long shot that he’ll find anything in what’s left of the baggage to help. He rifles through a few carry-ons, finding a couple of snacks he puts aside and lots of junk they can’t use. Frantically tosses the rubble he can lift from one place to another until something red and white catches his attention, peeking out from under two bodies that arecrunched together. He hesitates. He’s never seen anyone dead before, unless he counts his granny in her casket when he was twelve, and then his mother shortly after. Now he’s surrounded by death, but he’s never been squeamish. No reason to start now. Nora needs him to be strong and help her when no one else can…and there is absolutely no one else.
Maybe not for miles if what he suspects holds true.
Theo digs a hand down deep and pulls up a mangled first aid kit, holding it up like a prize before moving back to her side, where she’s applying pressure to her wound as best she can. Her long, delicate fingers shake, and her skin is pale, the tips of her ears and nose starting to pink from the harsh chill.
“My hero,” she says, a little sweet, and a lot tired.
“Can I see? I’ll be careful.”
She watches him with wide eyes while clutching her stomach.
He wouldn’t want anyone digging around in his wounds either. As far as he’s concerned, that’s how you leave yourself open to something even worse. Showing anyone a weakness is an invitation for more pain. Trust no one. Except they have no choice but to trust each other, at least enough to survive.
Reluctantly, she relents, pulling her blood-encrusted hand away to give him a better look.
“The good news is, it doesn’t look deep. Got you right through the skin and out the other side.”
She exhales heavily. “That’s good. I like my internal organs intact. It still hurts like a bitch, though.”
“I have to pull it out. I think it’s shallow enough that it’ll be fine to do that.”
“You think?”
He hesitates. “I think. That’s the best I can do right now.”
“Aren’t we supposed to wait until help gets here? Removing it could make it worse.”
He bites his lip, not wanting to say something so depressing, but she deserves the truth. “I don’t know how long it’ll be until help gets here. I can only see snow out there. Nothing else. There could be a town right over the mountain, or it could be hours away.”
She swallows hard, nodding her agreement, the space between her eyes creasing. “Okay, do it.”
The rod skewering her is no bigger than a drinking straw, but it’s gotta hurt, and he’s about to make it worse before it gets better. “Take a deep breath.”
She mouths a silent scream when he quickly pulls it free on her exhale, only letting herself make a sound when he douses it with peroxide from the kit, and she can’t resist cursing enough to make a sailor blush.
“I wasn’t serious,” she says finally, leaning her head back while he applies the bandages, breathing heavy. “About all those crash scenarios. I wasn’t serious.”
