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Aberrant: Stargate Universe - [AU] Broken Wings


The Red Man

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Somewhere in a reality not quite similar to the SGC we know...

"Shit." Major Damien Caine, U.S.A.F and field team leader of 'Specialist' squad SG-21, was not a man who cursed easily. But a staff-weapon bolt through the thigh that took away a chunk of the meat there was enough to tax the strongest self-discipline. He tore away the leg of his BDU's, staunching the partly-cauterised wound before grabbing up his P-90 once more and looking over the top of the low line of rocks that were so far sufficing as a wall. The humid air was heavily laced with dawn mist, but the shapes of the Jaffa were clearly visible as they advanced on him and Gwyn. Caine glanced at the Welshman, the perspiration dripping down his face, and saw that Gwyn was just about played out. The battle had raged for nearly an hour, and whatever reserves of 'juice' he had were dangerously low. "Gwyn, you okay?"

"Fine." The other replied tersely as he raised his MP-7 and squeezed off a tight burst of high-velocity slugs. A scream from the enemy position testified to his accuracy, as did the furious volley of return fire. Zat blasts and the occasional whining scream of a staff-bolt chewed at the rocks around Gwyn. "Kerrr-IST!" he yelled, ducking down as chips of rock slashed at his face and hands. "Fuck! Fucking fucking fuck! My goddamned eye!" he screamed out, partly in pain but mostly in sheer rage, one hand clapping to his face. Caine could make out blood streaming down the right side, and felt sick with his own helpless frustration. He keyed the radio again.

"Sergeant Perault! This is Major Caine. We are under heavy assault and have taken wounds. Come in, Dec." He released the transmit button and listened intently. Nothing. Once more the Major cursed, this time at the lush vegetation that contained, according to Gwyn's earlier analysis, a substantial amount of metals. Substantial enough to interfere with radio frequencies as well as most known forms of sensors. Naturally it was on this world, designated PX-1264, that SG-18 had gone missing eight days ago and SG-21, having one of the best trackers in the SGC, had been sent to find out what had happened to them. That had been six days ago. With typical efficiency, Caine's team had found the remains of SG-18's reconnaisance camp about five klicks from the Gate and could readily discern what had happened to them. Mainly through first-hand experience.

PX-1264, it had turned out, was predominantly rainforest, with the occasional mountain range to break the monotony of endless towering primeval jungle where the smaller trees were the size of an Earth sequoia. The temperature was maybe 10 degrees celsius hotter than that commonly found in Earth's equatorial rainforests, hot enough to be potentially dangerous to un-enhanced humans if they neglected their hydration. For Specialists it was uncomfortable, but not life-threatening in and of itself. The air contained more oxygen than back home as well, but that too wasn't a danger.

It was pretty much everything ELSE about this world that was dangerous, it seemed. Starting with the insect and plant life and working up from there. The entire ecosystem was a finely-balanced network of predator and prey, and every organism fell into both categories at one point or another in the chain. SG-18 had been foreign organisms to this chain, but PX-1264 had welcomed them with open jaws.

The campsite had been trashed, but some audio logs combined with Dec's tracking skills had done a good job of reconstructing what had happened. One of the team members had disappeared while on watch, leaving only their gun and, ominously, their forage hat behind. The team leader had led half of the remaining men on a search party, leaving four to guard the camp with orders to return home if the search party wasn't back by morning. They hadn't returned. At some point, the camp had been attacked by some sort of three-clawed predatory beasts, at least six that Declan could discern.

There weren't many remains, and those had been picked clean.

The three-clawed predators had attacked SG-21 too. Seven of them this time, they were quadripedal and vaguely reptilian in aspect, with greenish skin that became a crest of orange spines running along their back. When they attacked, the crest of spines lifted and flushed vibrantly, turning a deep red, and their shrieks were terrifying. Obviously they had gotten the notion that the strangely skinned two-legged creatures were good easy food. Specialists didn't really fit into the food chain, though. After SG-21 had killed five of the creatures with almost contemptuous ease, the remainder had lowered their crests and fled.

Caine had made the decision then to follow the search party, to see if any of them had survived. Travelling with the tireless ease of the enhanced, SG-21 had come upon the remnants of a large battle. A beast, nearly two storeys tall and reminiscent of a hairless bear with a barbed tail and sweeping horns, had all-but wiped out the search party, dying itself from the wounds they had managed to inflict. But there had been one human survivor of the battle, wounded to judge by the blood trail, and so SG-21 had pressed on.

Only to run into a huge force of Jaffa led by a goa'uld. They had cleared a large area of the hostile jungle, a massive transport spacecraft serving as their headquarters building. Eavesdropping, the Specialists had determined that the Goa'uld was here looking for the Gate. Worse, they had a pretty good idea where it was and would be moving out to secure it soon. This changed the situation dramatically. SG-21 couldn't abandon the chance of recovering another SGC member, but they couldn't let their line of retreat be cut off either. So Caine had made what he believed to be the best of a poor selection of tactical decisions. He and Gwyn would harry the Jaffa scouting parties, employing ambush tactics and guerrilla warfare to slow their advance on the gate. In the meantime, Livy and Dec would push on and recover either the wounded Airman... or his dog tags. And so had begun a five-day running firefight with the Jaffa force.

Which left him and Gwyn here, with their backs to the Stargate and the Jaffa drawing closer. Even Specialists have limits, it seemed. They were out of grenades, out of explosives, almost out of ammunition, and out of time.

"Sergeant? Olivia? Can you hear me?" Caine tried again, a hint of desperation in his voice. His heart leapt as he heard a crackle in his earpiece and a voice. Dec's voice!

"...Caine...ate your sit...ver?"

"Declan! We're at the gate. How far out are you?" Caine didn't bother to warn Declan away from the Jaffa. If there was one thing this team member was trained, schooled and enhanced specifically for, it was combat and survival. That had been the reason he'd sent Dec with Livy: if anyone could get the two of them back alive, it was him. Now Caine was second-guessing his earlier decisions. What if he'd sent Gwyn? But Gwyn wasn't the tracker Dec was. Maybe he should have kept them all together and tried to punch through the Jaffa line on their return. Shoulda, woulda, coulda. Caine was smart and seasoned enough to know that he was only wasting time mulling that over.

"We.... mountain.... clearer? Estima.... five days, over." Damien's heart sank as he keyed his mic again.

"Declan. Listen. We are almost overrun. We can't hold that long. You understand? Gwyn is wounded. I am wounded. We cannot wait. The goa'uld will take the Gate soon!" There was a pause, during which both Gwyn and Damien took the opportunity to lay down some suppressing fire on the cocky Jaffa. They dived for cover, and the two Specialists ducked back down again. Then Dec answered, the transmission coming through clearer.

"Go. Get... lear, Maj..." There was a short pause, then another crackle. "Go!"

"Listen to me! Declan! Listen! Keep alive! We WILL come back, you read me? You and Livy, stay alive!" Damien yelled into the mic, then called across to Gwyn to dial in the gate. Declan's response came back, typically stoic.

"...oger that, boss."

"Caine out!" Damien killed the radio and cursed again as the Gate exploded into life. The Jaffa were charging now. Gwyn hooked an arm under his and propelled them both through the portal, bolts of energy exploding around them.

* * * * * * *

Miles and miles away on a craggy mountainside Dec turned to Olivia, his mouth set in a grim line. She didn't need an explanation; she'd heard everything, had agreed with everything. Brown eyes met dead silver and the two Specialists knew that, for the foreseeable future, there was no way back home.

They were cut off, and despite the assurances of their CO, perhaps cut off for good.

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The last five days had been both miserable and terrifying. Olivia had come to hate this planet with a passion; its destructive flora and fauna seemed to thrive on hating every other living creature. She couldn't count the number of times Declan had barely stopped something from taking a piece of her. Well, she could count them, if she wanted to do so. She had no desire to know that.

“Alright,” she said softly. “What’s next? You’ve had this training, I haven’t – you’re the boss.” It was true; she would only get herself killed. Moreover, she trusted Dec to get her out alive. So she’d do whatever he told her to do, and hope that she’d be good enough to survive this. Swallowing hard, her eyes fell to the pocket where he’d put Guerra’s tags. It made it worse knowing that they hadn’t been able to save the man they’d come to rescue.

Declan’s voice brought her back to their predicament. “First, we find shelter near drinkable water,” he said in his soft, deep voice. His silver eyes swept the area around them, down the mountainside they’d climbed to get above the vegetation. “We’ll try that ravine,” he told her, pointing. “It looks like it was cut with water, might have a cave, too. Then we look for food and learn the area.”

“Sounds simple enough,” Olivia said, looking where he was pointing. At his snort, she said, “I said, ‘sounds simple.’ I know it’s not going to be.”

“Might be,” Declan said gently. “We could find what we need right away.”

Olivia gave him a bemused look. “That only happens on TV. Come on, let’s see what we’ve been given to work with.” Rising, she followed the path he sent down the rocky slope, back into the trees.

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As it turned out, they didn't have as much to work with as they might have liked.

The ravine was a good place for drinking water, a river thundering noisily through it's center. Getting down to the water was another matter, even for two enhanced humans. The two of them looked north, then south along the natural cleft, seeing if there was some easy way down. Dec decided to point them south, and they following the ravine that direction for the best part of the afternoon.

Nightfall found them at a natural beach perhaps 10 miles south of where they'd first met the ravine. Eventually the land had sloped downwards, and the thunder of a young river had become somewhat less so as it slowed through many twists and turns. As the jungle came alive with the hoots, warbles and distant roars that were so similar and yet so alien to the Terran natives, Declan called a halt.

Livy sank onto a driftwood log with a groan. She was tired from the constant high levels of exertion, thirsty as hell from the temperature, and she was sure that there was no soap or conditioner anywhere within literally light-years of their position. On the upside, most of the moisture in the air seemed to have decided that it's express purpose was plastering her clothes to her body, which as the sun went down did wonders for cooling her off.

Dec seemed in better shape, unsurprisingly, though no less ragged and soaked. He'd shucked his combat jacket days ago, saving it to wear at night, and bore numerous bloodstains on his skin and clothing where vicious thorns had torn into him. They had healed almost as soon as they had been caused, leaving bloodstained rips in his t-shirt and BDU pants. Thankfully, his two machetes had been well-suited to carving a path so that Livy, following along behind him, hadn't suffered more than a couple of scrapes. Now he crouched well back from the water, watching the surface warily.

"What is it?" Livy asked, her own weariness forgotten as she picked up on his alert tension.

"Good natural beach here." Dec said softly without turning around. "Might be something's favorite feeding spot. Current's slow enough that something could wait just under the water there. Crocs do it back home." He picked up a large rock in one hand and tossed it into the water. It splashed and sank, but nothing stirred. Apparently satisfied, Dec approached the water's edge.

"We know the water here's safe... for novas anyway. If we were human we'd really be in shit." he told her as he filled up their canteens through the small filtered caps, then returned to where Livy sat, holding out one canteen and taking a deep drink of the other.

"Dinner's power bars and water tonight." he told her with a wry smile. "I'll get a fire started, and tomorrow we'll see about finding better shelter than this cove. As well as figuring out what's good to eat around here." He cocked his head and looked off into the darkness, sniffing the air lightly a couple of times, his attitude one of predatory alertness for a long moment. He relaxed and grinned at her. "Other than us, that is."

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Olivia had worn her jacket to protect her arms; now that they were in an open area, away from thorns, she stripped it off thankfully. She’d been almost melting while wearing it, but the welt from one stinging nettle had quickly convinced her that heat stroke was a better option. She eyed a nearby column of driftwood, piled up from a flood, assessing it for use in the fire. It was dry enough, but she still approached cautiously. Reaching out, she shook it, and then hopped back, waiting to see what carnivorous creature leapt at her. Nothing happened, save Declan chuckling at her.

“Hey, I’m taking this place seriously after that vine tried to eat me!” she huffed, giving him a mock-glare before turning back to the pile of wood.

“It was a snake,” Declan reminded her. His pack was being effectively emptied and the former ranger picked out the tinder and flint.

“It wasn’t a snake,” Olivia said, “snakes don’t have flowers growing out of their heads.”

“Tasted like snake,” Declan drawled as he began to set up a fire ring, clearing out anything that could catch fire.

Olivia shuddered. She’d been hungry enough to eat it, once she’d closed her eyes and just chewed. “It was odd,” she confessed, thinking about fried chicken so her mind wouldn’t replay that moment of revulsion. Licking her lips, she nervously shook the pile of bleached limbs again before deciding that they were safe. Seizing one, she dragged it over to Declan’s side for his use. She had done this twice more before the branch she’d grabbed exploded into motion. With a shriek, she bounded backwards, tripping over her feet and landing ass-first in the sand. The ‘branch’ wrapped around her arm with thick ‘twigs’, and the end of it split open to reveal many sharp teeth.

,,

Declan was at her side before she’d tumbled onto her back. With a quick twist, he’d stopped its biting strike; his other hand slashed underhand with the machete, cutting off its head. Hot blood splashed onto Olivia, even as Declan tried to aim the gush out over sand. “Je- Damn it!” Olivia snapped, unwinding the thickly muscled body from her arm. The scales were rough, leaving scratches on her dark skin.

“You found dinner. Again,” Declan said softly, examining the creature closely. It was cat-like in build, and omnivorous like ninety percent of this world seemed to be. The exterior was lizard-like, another theme they’d seen again and again.

“It found me,” Olivia corrected, easing to the water’s edge and washing away the blood. Her clothes were already wet, so she was careless as she splashed away the blood. She kept a wary eye for a submerged threat, but it seemed that nothing else thought she looked tasty. She felt brave enough to take a double-handful of water and dump it over her head, taking a second to daydream about having a shower. But that passed, and she turned her attention to the art of survival, though the Class of Declan 101.

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The creature, as it turned out, was delicious. Provided you confined yourself to eating the muscle tissue, anyway. The hide was like sandpaper, and after one cursory sniff Declan nixed the idea of using the internal organs for anything except perhaps bait. Though not this time. He tossed the innards as far out into the jungle as he could, stretched the skin across a log near the fire to dry out, and settled down to joint the beast. Olivia, pragmatism overriding her distaste for blood and viscera, watched the efficient butchering of the critter attentively with at least a small pang of satisfaction somewhere in the lizard hindbrain of her head. The thing had tried to eat her, and now she was going to eat it.

It was good meat, tasting curiously like horse according to Dec. There was an unfortunate moment due to Livy waiting until she'd already devoured one piece and was halfway through her second before asking what he thought it tasted like.

"You've eaten horse." Livy stared at him levelly. Dec shrugged and nodded, tearing off another bite of his third chunk of meat. Noting that she was still staring at him, he felt some explanation was in order.

"It was in Kosovo. This farmer dude took a bunch of us into his house after the liberation there. The Serbs had taken all the cattle, killing anything they couldn't steal. This farmer, he served us plum wine and roast horse with bread." he said between mouthfuls. Livy stared at him, then at the chunk of meat staining her fingers with grease. Then she took another bite and shrugged at him. She was too damn hungry to care, frankly. Plus it did taste good.

"We're going to need to find some fruit or greenery to eat at some point. Assuming there is any." she said. Dec nodded, swallowed, and pointed with his combat knife at the carcass on the makeshift spit.

"The catmeleon was omnivorous. There'll be something. There's some basic guidelines, though. Wait until you see another creature eating it before you reach for the fruit. And even then, don't take more than a thumbnail size bite to start. Wait an hour. If you feel sick at all, then it's probably not a good idea." Dec shrugged and took another bite out of his dinner, continuing to talk around it. "Again, we should be okay from pretty much anything. But it pays to be careful."

"Right." Livy nodded, reflecting that there were far worse people to get stuck on a hostile jungle world with than Declan. She watched him as he rose and went to the waters edge to wash his hands off, realising that in some indefinable way, he was more centered and at peace out here in a wild, wild rainforest with death around every corner than he had been in the middle of civilised America. A creature born out of his natural habitat, finally come home her writer's voice supplied. There was something comforting about the thought. This is Dec. Back home, there was no space for him to expand into. Here there's plenty. Metaphorically speaking, he can stretch without knocking over the ornaments. He turned back from the water and strode over to the fire, it's light catching in his eyes, and Livy realised she'd been lost in her reverie.

"What's our next move?" she asked him, taking another bite of her meal. "You think there's caves around here?"

"Maybe." Dec replied, settling down next to the skin and scraping the blood and flesh from the inside with a rock he'dselected after some thought. He paused and looked at her, then up at the trees a dozen yards or so back from the natural beach. "Though I'm thinkin' this might be a good spot. Game trails all over." Livy followed his gaze and discerned his meaning.

"Up there?" she asked, eyes widening. Dec nodded. "You want us to live in a tree?"

"Makes sense. Some of those branches are big enough for two people to walk on like a sidewalk. The bigger predators won't be able to get up there. There's plenty of building material. We have tools." Dec resumed scraping the skin as he listed off the positive aspects, regarding Livy calmly. "Plus it'll keep us busy, give us somethin' to work on while we wait."

"But getting up there...?" Livy asked. Dec grinned wryly at her.

"We'll rig something up. Something safe. Rope ladder is probably best." He cocked his head, frowning in concentration as he thought through the various solutions. He glanced back at Olivia, his expression softening. "We'll be okay, Livy. We'll make it through this." It wasn't hollow reassurance, somehow. She realised that he meant it. But their situation was still dire.

"Do you think we can get home?" she asked, then immediately supplied her own answer. "No. The goa'uld will have deactivated the Gate, won't they? At least until they can fortify around it. We're stuck here." There. She'd said it. And now she tried not to think about the impact of what she'd said. Stuck Here. Far from home. No phone calls to her parents or Waki, no conversations with Daniel Jackson about alien civilisations and their impact on Earth. She even missed the torturously long hikes through the hills around Cheyenne Mountain with Damien and Gwyn, Dec somewhere ahead of them like a ghost. Bless Damien for those hikes, she thought, tears pricking at her eyes. If it wasn't for the conditioning of their training she'd be half dead already.

"We're stuck here." she repeated in a whisper, and blinked away the tears that had formed, hating herself for doing this, for falling apart. But she hadn't had time to relax and think since they'd been cut off, and now the full ramifications had come crashing down on her. Dec was beside her then, one arm around her shoulders. He didn't say anything: was just there as a solid presence as Olivia cried silently, turning her head and burying it against his shoulder.

He looked up at the alien night sky as his friend cried, the dead silver of his eyes unreadable to anyone up there that might see them. Inwardly, however, Sgt Declan Perault vowed to himself that, come hell or high water, he'd find a way to get them both home.

And until then, he'd keep Livy alive and well.

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Once Olivia had cried herself out, she crawled into her sleeping bag. Declan didn’t have the heart to remind her that it was her turn to do the first watch, so he did it himself. And then he did the next one, too, sitting up through the long night.

But it wasn’t wasted time. He surveyed the trees and the area, determining where their new – and temporary – home was going to be. Despite the transitory nature of this building, Declan was determined that it would be a comfortable place for Olivia. It would help her mood, he suspected, to have a nice home of her own.

By the time Olivia stirred, Declan had decided on the trees they’d use, as well as the first few steps of their build. He smiled as Olivia groggily looked around, blinking slowly. “Morning?” she said, rubbing her face and crawling out of the bag. “Why didn’t you wake me up?”

“You needed to sleep,” Declan said easily, which was mostly true. This kind of thing was harder on her, while he was in the perfect environment for him. He felt better, more relaxed out here; even with Olivia around, he felt far enough away from most people that he wasn’t having to be on guard all the time. Being out here felt good, while he knew it was a trial for his companion.

“I need to do my part, too,” she said stubbornly, stretching out and yawning widely. “I’d kill for coffee right now.”

Declan grinned. “Maybe we’ll find something out here that is like coffee,” he mentioned casually as he continued to work on the rope in his hands. He was knotting it every few feet; until they made a ladder, this was their way up and down the tree.

Olivia grimaced. “No, it’d probably be a slow-acting poison.” Declan chuckled, watching her look around for a moment. She walked over and knelt, quirking an eyebrow. “Hmm, this is going to suck, isn’t it?”

“You can do it,” Declan told her.

“Yeah.” She paused, looking sheepish. “About last night…”

“It’s not a problem,” Declan said, dropping his silver eyes to the rope.

“Thank you,” she offered.

“Welcome,” he answered.

Olivia watched him for a moment. “What can I do to help?” she asked.

He put the rope in her hands. “Here, finish knotting this. I need to find a branch.” He knew she wasn’t completely sure what that was for, but she didn’t waste time with questions. Just twenty minutes later, he showed her what he meant when he attached the rope to a branch and, after a couple of attempts, got it looped over a branch. He climbed up and began to assess the tree more closely. Finally, satisfied, he worked his way back down. It’d be a good home.

First though, there was a lot of work to be done.

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Four days later

"Look OUT!"

Dec's bellowed warning from a hundred feet overhead gave ample time for Livy to dart aside as, with a series of crashes, a section of woven wall came thundering down, the smaller pliant branches coming apart from the vertical supports with each subsequent impact against obstacles on it's downward path. The work of a morning came to rest in a mostly-seperate heap at the food of the giant tree, and the silence that followed was nothing short of deafening.

A stream of profanity broke that silence as Dec, as nimble as an ape, descended through the simple expedient of dropping from branch to branch before leaping out into space, catching the rope, and descending the last thirty feet of it hand-over-hand nearly as fast as an ordinary man could run. He dropped to the forest floor, his cursing coming to an end as he looked over at Livy, standing ten feet away with the beginnings of a grin on her face. Stripped to the waist (his t-shirt having long since given up the ghost) Dec looked back at the wall-section, one hand rubbing the back of his neck in the universal male gesture of bemused embarrassment.

"Yeah. I think I shoulda paid more attention in shop class." he said ruefully. Olivia stifled a giggle and moved forward to help put the tangled mess to rights.

They had fallen into a wary routine since their first day here. The dangers of the jungle remained omnipresent, of course. The Yowlers (the pack-hunting reptiles with the bright spinal crests) were common here, and the Catmeleon (as Dec insisted on calling it) was also a regular, if solitary, predator. The vine-snakes were everywhere in the trees, but curiously enough weren't mobile hunters, somehow physically bonding with the tree to the extent of fusing the ends of their tails into the trunk or branches. They had found a cluster of young ones, roughly ten feet long, dotted around their 'home tree', hinting that they had an ambulatory stage, probably as hatchlings. That wasn't reassuring, though: the adult that had tried to take a bite out of Olivia had been fifty feet in length. At least, they assumed it was an adult. It might have been an adolescent for all the two strangers to this world knew.

As Dec's hyper-keen sense of smell got used to the scents of the various creatures, though, it got much harder for the wildlife of this planet to catch the two of them off-guard. The creatures here might not have had the opportunity to learn much fear of Man, Livy reflected humorously, but that would likely change with Dec in the ecosystem. For her part, Livy was getting adept at hearing the distinctive raspy breathing of the Catmeleons or the off-note rustling of the vine snakes, her keen ears able to catch the sounds that even Dec couldn't. She was, in short, learning the environment as much as he was.

And what of Red? He was around, she was certain, peering out through Dec's eyes. But with little in the way of inner turmoil on Dec's part to tempt him to break loose, as well as the constant need for vigilance and predatory keenness satiating that darker, bloodier part of her friend's psyche, Red hadn't surfaced.

Yet.

The last couple of nights she had wondered about that, turning it over in her mind. Dec seemed so happy out here it was almost infectious. Correction: it was infectious. For the first time since she'd known him, her friend was at peace without meditative exercises, without 'green hand' or touchy-feely sessions. She was happy for him, very much so, but...

But what if he didn't want to go home?

He wasn't like her. He didn't have family there, or the promise of academic stardom, or dreams, hopes and aspirations. 'Home' was a bleak place filled with people that feared him and wanted to keep him inside a mountain fortress. He did have friends, though. Livy thought about that. Damien cared for Declan in a mix of fatherly and brotherly fashions, alternating between watching out for his squadmember and quiet male awe of his talents. Gwyn liked Dec, treating him with easy, unintrusive comfort and companionship. Kyria cared about him, making sure he didn't spend time brooding, jollying him into a sparring session or socialising in the canteen.

Thinking about home, as always, threatened to divert into her feeling sorry for herself. Olivia shook off her reverie and reminded herself that, even if Dec didn't wholeheartedly want to go home, he'd still find a way to get them back. He had even talked it over with her as the next step: once the dwelling was built, he planned to make trips to keep an eye on the local Gate, waiting for the goa'uld to come back and set up around it. As soon as the gate was reactivated, he'd figure out how to get the two them safely through it.

"There, it wasn't as bad as it looked." she announced as they finished repairing the wall segment, smiling at her companion. The smile became a wry grin. "Try not to drop it this time."

"Rassa-frackin'...." Dec muttered under his breath, knowing that she could hear it, then grinned back. "I'll try. Construction ain't really my department. I was never an 'In-the-rear engineer'."

"Maybe I should take a look?" she offered, wondering based off her experience with men if he'd take the 'Nah, that's alright, I got this' path.

"Sure." Dec smiled. "Never hurts to have a second opinion, right?" He tied the wall-section onto another rope, then fastened the end of that to his waist before glancing over at her. "Climb on. I'll take you up in comfortable style."

Livy almost refused. Dec's rate of ascent was fast, and relied sheerly on the power of his nova muscles to propel him hand-over-hand up the rope. She preferred to make her own, slower ascent. But then she caught the grin he was trying to hide, anticipating her refusal, and a slight flare of rebellious recklessness surged up in her.

"Alright." she told him, taking her own turn to mostly hold back a grin as Dec blinked in surprise. Stepping up behind him, she wrapped her arms over his shoulders and, taking a good grip, lifted her legs up to scissor around his waist. She felt his muscles shift under her hands and legs as he stretched experimentally, then bounced a little on his toes to make sure she was secure. Then he began to climb.

Olivia's grip tightened as the forest floor dropped away beneath her, and she snapped her gaze up to look over Dec's shoulders. If her tighter grip caused him any discomfort, he didn't show it, sprung-steel muscles working tirelessly as he pulled them up hand over hand with inhuman quickness. One slip, one missed grasp, and the two of them would fall... She steered her mind away from that thought. Dec wouldn't slip. This was a guy who could clear nearly an entire pool table with one shot and shoot the wings off a fly with either hand.

In the forced search for alternatives to fear, though, another thought intruded. That being her body was pressed tightly to his, with only her t-shirt and... nothing else between the skin of their torsos. One of her hands was covering a scar... the twisted line over his ribs and chest, she realised. The extensive network of his scars had been a bit of a shock to her when he'd first discarded the remains of his t-shirt two days ago. He'd caught her look and smiled, a little embarrassed, and they'd said nothing about it.

That train of thought was cut off as Dec swung them both onto the wide branch at the rope's end, and Livy gingerly clambered down from his broad back, her eyes resting for a second on the bullet scar just below his right shoulderblade as Dec drew up the wall section. Then she turned to look at what he'd built so far.

It wasn't bad at all. Dec had bent and lashed together several nearby branches to this one, creating quite a large framework on which he'd lashed down tightly-woven flooring. One previously completed wall segment was leaning against the trunk of the tree, but Livy immediately spotted the flaw in his design.

"You've got no uprights." she told Dec as he finished bringing up the wall piece. "You need one on each corner, and then some more spaced around the edge and probably the inside as well to act as roof support and anchors to the walls." He looked at the floor, then at her, and blinked as understanding dawned. Livy grinned, pleased. "I worked with the Peace Corps for a while, construction in the Middle East. Never thought it'd come in handy trapped on an alien world."

"Damn straight that's useful." Dec laughed then. "Uprights, you said?" Livy nodded and he pondered for a moment. "We'll leave this wall here and go make some. But hey, try the floor out first." He gestured. "It's solid. Can even jump up and down on it." He grinned a little. "I tested that yesterday."

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Hesitantly, Olivia gave a few little hops. Declan grinned like a wolf – maybe it was Red, with that smile – and said, “Come on, really try it!” He leapt straight up, clearing four feet easily, and came crashing down with a thump that shook the floor. Olivia yelped and crouched automatically, pulling a hand on the floor to brace. But it held, Dec grinning proudly at her.

“Good work,” Olivia said, her heart pounding in her chest. “Very sturdy.” She swallowed hard, but her voice was much surer when she added, “We can start sleeping up here now, can’t we? It’d be safer than sleeping on the ground.”

“I don’t know about safer,” Declan said. Without the slightest hint of a smile, he added, “You toss and turn a lot. You might roll out.”

Olivia whirled on him, laughing with outraged delight. She slapped him on the shoulder and snapped, “Jerk! You snore!”

“Hey! Do not!” Declan protested, flinching playfully from her strike.

“Like a chainsaw,” Olivia said, her eyes bright as she teased him.

“Well, if you can tolerate the noise, I guess I can handle having you bouncing off me all night,” Declan replied easily. As Olivia snorted, he added, “I’ll get our gear up here – you set about makin’ house, ok?”

“I will not,” Olivia said quickly, grinning at him. “I have a better idea for something to do with my time.”

“Then I’ll get out of your way,” he said, wondering what she planned. But he’d learned what that smile meant, and it’d be better if he waited for her reveal. While he went up and down the ropes, she pulled a pile of fibers over to the river and started soaking them. They’d learned that if twisted together when wet, they made a good substitute for rope. Her head bent as she worked, she made a pretty image, bathed in the golden light of the sun. Declan found himself watching her for a moment, and not just to be sure she was safe. Each time, he reminded himself that he couldn’t afford a distraction.

He still couldn’t figure out what she was doing. By the time he’d gotten all their supplies up into the shelter, she’d finished. Olivia bundled her work into a long rolled-up mass and headed for the rope. Curious, Declan followed her up to the shelter, climbing with what seemed like painful slowness behind her.

Once she was in the shelter, she selected a couple of branches about eight feet apart and unrolled her bundle, revealing what Declan thought were nets. But when she tied one end to the branch and then began to secure the other end to another branch, he chuckled. She unzipped her sleeping bag and draped it over the hammock. “So,” she asked smugly as she flopped back in the swinging bed, “how high do you want yours?”

That night was the most comfortable they’d spent on this planet yet.

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One week since being cut off

"Yeah, like that." Dec nodded approvingly as Livy, hanging suspended from her harness with her long hair tied back, stuck the sharpened twigs into the thick-skinned dark purple fruit roughly the size of an Earth melon. Carefully, very carefully, she withdrew them after a few minutes, seeing that the tips were stained almost black. Still moving as though she were handling live snake, she placed the twigs into a canvas pouch. The fruit quivered a little, and Livy quickly braced her legs against the trunk of the great tree and shuffled away just in time.

The fruit quivered again, then exploded with a damp *splat* sound, painting the tree trunk with it's slick oily juice. A foul stink followed, sufficient to make both novas gag, even Dec from his more distant vantage point. Holding his breath, he began to reel Olivia in as she coughed.

Most trees grew fruit in order that the fruit be eaten and the seeds carried to pastures new. Even here, that was the rule. The exception to the rule was the imaginatively-named 'Drop-fruit Tree' (Dec's name again). This charming mixture of flora and fauna was a carnivorous predator that, to all intents and purposes, was little distinguishable from any other tree. The bark and flowers even changed to blend in with the dominant species in the area. The tree's roots were, in fact, a net of sensory appendages that extended just under the surface of the ground further even than the branches overhead.

When these organic sensors picked up any creature large than a rat, the tree let drop one of the large purple fruits that grew in abundant clusters on it's trunk and branches. The juice of each fruit was intensely poisonous. A splash would kill most small life, whereas an entire fruit would even drop one of the huge horned predators that they'd encountered a week ago. Livy and Declan knew this for a fact, because they'd come across one of the huge beasts dead at the foot of a tree like this one. Once the prey was dead, the tree would drop as many fruit as was needed to cover the carcass. In addition to being poisonous and containing enzymes to speed decomposition, on exposure to air the juice gave off a pheromonal scent that kept away everything, even scavengers. Thus the tree could start to feed without fear of losing it's meal.

Naturally, Dec saw an opportunity in this. Seeing as no animals would come near the juice of the fruit, he and Livy would set up scent-markers on a wide perimeter around their home, on the ground and up in the trees. That would keep the wild creatures at bay. It was, Livy agreed, an excellent plan. But when he outlined her part in making it work, she began to have doubts.

"Tell me again why I have to dip these things?" she asked with streaming eyes as he pulled her up onto the branch with him. The worst of the stench soon dissipated, but the pheromone remained for a long time. Fortunately, it didn't seem to have an effect on human (or nova) senses. Declan could detect it, but it didn't smell particularly foul to him.

"Because your sense of smell ain't as keen as mine." he grinned back, putting one arm around Livy to steady her as she recovered.

"Whoever said chivalry was dead?!" Livy poked his solid chest accusingly. Dec laughed.

"Hey, you said you didn't want to just 'hang around the treehouse like Jane'." He replied. "Well, this is better than that, ain't it?"

Looking out over the rainforest's lower canopy, Livy couldn't help but smile. Once she'd gotten over the nervousness of getting around, travelling with Declan on these little expeditions, foraging and hunting, was actually a hell of a lot of fun. Sure, the stakes were serious, but the exhileration of returning to their mostly-constructed dwelling with backpacks filled with the product of a morning's teamwork was hard to beat. She put a hand on his shoulder as the last of the fumes' work on her eyesight wore off and smiled softly. "Yes, it is."

As Dec started to get them from this tree to the next (it wasn't a good idea to touch the ground under those hanging fruits), Livy clinging to his back, she decided she wasn't going to let him off that easily and leaned forward to murmur in his ear, her voice deceptively soft and a grin on her lips.

"But you're doing that next time. I mean it. Wear noseplugs, buster."

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Two weeks after being cut off…

“Alright,” Declan said, standing back and clapping his hands together. “Ladies first.”

“For once, that sounds good,” Olivia laughed, acknowledging that Declan had often used that trope to justify asking her to do all sorts of annoying things. She looked at the primitive shower; it was the most beautiful thing she’d seen in a long time. For the last fourteen days, she’d been forced to bathe in her underclothes while Declan watched from the shore. The last hadn’t been perverted; it had been for her safety. She’d suggested once that he turn his back; he’d spent the next five minutes elaborating on submerged predators that could grab someone and drag them under with barely a splash. It’d been three days before she could get into the water again.

It wasn’t perfect; it was over a fiber mat that would barely keep the ground underneath from turning to mud. The shower’s curtain was a crudely interwoven bit of cloth that let light through. But their tarps had been used; one to catch drinking water and the other for this shower. The only other piece of cloth that they had of the right size were their sleeping bags, and no one was willing to give up that creature comfort. They also had no towels, and nothing to change into afterwards. This wasn’t unusual, but it was something that Olivia planned to work on next. She wasn’t sure how she was going to improve their wardrobe, but she was determined to make it happen.

“I’m going give this puppy a test drive,” Olivia said, stepping into the fronds. She shucked her clothing and put it over the branch, then stood on tip-toe to peer at Declan. He was watching, but kept his eyes up. She grinned, then pulled the cord.

It was like showering using a water hose, but Olivia didn’t care. It was only a little warm, having time suspended in the tarp-water basin in the sun. She didn’t have soap or anything like that, but for now, the rush of water from above was enough. She was aware that she was making decadent, satisfied noises, but didn’t stop. This pleasure was too great to stifle, even for Declan’s sake. She’d tried hard to not be even a little sexual around him; she didn’t want to make things more complicated. But this – this was too much.

All too soon, the water was gone. Olivia stood still for a moment, enjoying the last sensations. Then she began to sluice the water off her body with her hands. “Need a cigarette?” Declan asked suddenly.

Olivia laughed softly. “I’m good, thanks,” she said, feeling blood creep up her cheeks. She squeezed a bit more water out of her hair before pulling down her clothes and putting them back on. Stepping out of the ‘curtained’ area, she said, “Let’s fill it up and let you have your turn.”

“You saying I stink?” he asked her indignantly.

“Dec, we both stink,” Olivia said, quirking an eyebrow. “Two weeks, no soap.”

“You didn’t have to say so,” he told her sadly, but he gave her a wink to let her know it was alright. They hauled enough water from the river to fill up again. He stepped into it next, and Olivia blushed as she realized how little the curtain concealed. She’d have to do something about that.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

That night...

Olivia was instantly awake, tense in her hammock. She held her breath, listening for whatever had woken her up. They had foregone the night watches not long after setting up the pheromone sticks. But she was sure that she’d heard something.

The low moan, barely more than a whisper, caused her to relax, even as she rolled out of the hammock. “Declan,” she murmured, leaning over him and stroking his hair lightly. “Declan, wake up – you’re having a bad dream.”

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"What do you think, Sergeant?" Lieutenant Rick Narvis murmured as they walked through the sand-coloured, mud-and-brick village. Around them, glinting dark eyes watched the American soldiers levelly from faces made impassive with fear, resentment and/or hate. That stoicism had been forged in the fires of the Soviet occupation of Afghanistan and now, twenty years later, it was the other Cold War superpower's turn to have their troops experience the Afghani disdain of outsiders.

"I think they ain't happy to see us, L.T." Dec's iron-grey eyes scanned those watching them, his own face a mirror of the Afghani's carefully stoic mien as he laconically answered his younger superior. The Ranger's eyes were by contrast always moving, wolf-like in their careful wariness as he flexed a hand around the grip of his M-4 carbine. "Other than that... I think there ain't a lot of men in sight except kids and that old fart sittin' by the well."

"Intel has it that the Taliban like to sweep through these places conscripting anyone fit to carry a gun-" The L.T. started to say, only to have his Master Sergeant slap an open hand into his chest lightly to halt his forward progress. A woman was running up to them, shouting something in the local tongue, a bundle in her hands.

"Get the fuck back!" Dec roared at her, the muzzle of his carbine coming up to cover her, his pale eyes narrowing with deadly intent as he utilised his limited command of Dali. "Daadan medeham ! Man fair kardan! Man fair kardan khode shomaa!" (*) The woman stopped fifteen feet away, but didn't move back at all, words still spilling from her mouth. Declan's lip curled back as he took aim, some primeval instinct, a crimson whisper at the back of his mind prompting him. She could have a gun or a grenade in that bundle for all he knew. Hell, she could have the pin out already...

"Sergeant!" the Lieutenant's voice whipcracked across his ears. "Stand down. She's asking for aid."

"Yeah, that's what they do." Dec muttered bitterly, restraining the urge to spit in disgust as a mixture of bloodlust and fear soured his mouth. He squinted down the sights at the woman's left eye, visible through the veil she was wearing. "They ask for help, then blow us the fuck up when we ain't lookin'." But the commanding officer had said 'stand down'. Orders. A soldier had to follow orders. He lowered the carbine, but that was as far as he let himself relax. These sons of bitches loved to hide behind women and children, to use them as shields and lures, just like in Bosnia and Somalia. Slowly, the red hue of his killing-urge dimmed.

The Lieutenant, with a wary glance for his sergeant, stepped closer to the woman, beckoning her forward. She came forwards, a relieved note to her speech, dark eyes occasionally flickering nervously to the grim faced, grey-eyed man standing watchfully ten feet away, his attitude that of a leashed wolf.

Perault watched as she produced a few photos from her bundle, the stream of words from her mouth all but unintelligible to him. He caught 'men', 'guns', and something that might have been 'son'... Though he wasn't sure on that last. He took a swallow of water from his canteen and scowled. Fuckin' veils. Made it impossible to read a face.

The L.T had a gift for talking to the locals, though. Five minutes later, and the woman was practically kissing his hand and bowing as she left. Narvis came back and signalled Dec and the radio operator over. Both approached as the rest of the platoon spread out and kept an eye on the area.

"Taliban fighters came through here yesterday, preaching up a storm and recruiting menfolk to fight in the glorious cause." the Lieutenant started. "That lady's two sons and husband left her to go along, along with most of the village's menfolk." Narvis' face went grave. "Willingly."

"That's not good." said the R.O, a guy from the Bronx called Wessler, shaking his head. "So what did she want?"

"To show me pictures of her guys so we won't kill them." the L.T. said with a sigh, handing the small cluster of fuzzy photographs to Declan. Two boys and a man grinned and waved at the camera. Dec spared them a glance before passing them back. "Get H.Q. up and tell them that the Taliban aren't having to press these people into service, and that we're going to move on to our target point."

Five minutes later the forty-strong platoon of Rangers moved out of the village, heading up into the hills to take part in SPEAR: an assault on a Taliban mountain holdfast.

(* Give way! I will shoot! I will shoot you!)

* * * * * *

(Mood Music)

"Where's the L.T! Where is he?" the Ranger screamed into Dec's ear as explosions went off all around them. The crack and whine of bullets were deafening, and the stink of propellant, charred flesh and spilled blood a nauseating and all-too familiar cocktail.

"He's dead!" Dec yelled back, pushing the other down as four Taliban fighters with AK knockoffs appeared on a ledge above them, taking rudimentary aim before they sprayed the shallow depression in the rocky earth sheltering the remnants of Charlie squad with bullets. Screams and cries rose above the gunfire but Declan, teeth pulled back in an animal grin, raised his carbine and with a sweeping short burst cleared the ledge. He turned back to the man next to him, words dying unsaid when he realised that the other, a friend of five years, had caught a ricochet through the throat and was choking to death on his own blood.

"Oh shit. MEDIC!" Dec bellowed, but there were no medics to spare. Charlie squad was all that was left of the platoon as a cohesive unit, and as he looked around, Dec saw that cohesion unravelling as hardened soldiers, lacking leadership and caught in the worst of tactical situations, were huddling in a desperate attempt to stave off the end they all felt approaching. The inital mortar attack by the enemy had been well aimed and devastating, cutting the platoon to a quarter of it's size in one stroke.

Fuck this. Dec felt his rage growing. Fuck these rules of war that protected the same fucking 'civilians' who were cutting his friends and squadmates to pieces. We should have started with turnin' this fucking asshole country into a parking lot. He reached over his friend's body and tried to staunch the wound, but a glance told him that he didn't have the equipment or expertise to help the man. A curious, savage strength rose up in him. It was time to get the hell out of here.

"Charlie! We are leaving!" he shouted, his deep voice rising above the other noise. "Straight ahead, to those rocks there. I want suppressing fire on the flanks, and shoot any motherfuckers that get in our way!"

"Sarge! There's kids and women ahead. The insurgents are hiding among 'em!" a younger Ranger protested. Dec grabbed the front of his jacket and pulled him close, a dangerous light shimmering in his grey eyes.

"If you reckon their lives are worth a spit more than yours, then stay here and die." he grated callously. Raising his voice again as he slapped a fresh clip into his carbine, he looked at the other men. "Kill or be killed, Rangers! Let's show these fuckers who's better at it!" With that he rolled to his feet, spotting two guerillas off to one side. Drawing a bead with autonomic precision, the sergeant dropped them with two quick bursts. The other Rangers followed him out of the ineffective shelter and into the storm beyond.

Dec lost track of time, lost track of his terror and grief at friends lost. There was just the pure scarlet killing lust: amoral, untouchable, uncontainable. He plucked a white phosphorous grenade from his webbing and hurled it at the position ahead of him. Sparks and flares of white flame covered men, women and children, who screamed and flailed. Something in him laughed at the sight even as another dying part of his soul recoiled in horror. Raising his weapon he cut them down as they broke cover, a wordless scream of hate issuing forth from his lips.

He wasn't just in Afghanistan. He was in Mogadishu again. He was in Kosovo. He was in Iraq. There was no humanity in those memories, nothing but the sounds of battle and the stink of fear and blood, blood everywhere. To survive the madness, a man had to go a little mad himself, to draw on training and a savage will to do anything, anything at all to be the last one standing. A bullet slapped him from his feet like the punch of an angry heavyweight. Dec rolled with the momentum, coming up onto his knees and shooting his assailant, a teenage boy with an old hunting rifle, dead between the eyes.

He had all the time in the world. He aimed, fired, aimed, fired like a machine. Single shots or small bursts, each kill a note in the symphony of murder he wrote with his trigger finger. He got to his feet then stumbled back to his knees, a moment of puzzlement nearly undoing his perfect concentration before he noticed the wet dark red stain spreading across the fabric of his BDU jacket. Another Ranger crouched beside him, shouting something that Dec struggled to understand, an arm going around him. Suddenly there was a warm wet splash as the man's face exploded, blood covering Declan's face and filling his mouth.

He screamed, a hoarse sound of horror-struck grief which, even as it drew out, became a song of savage, uncompromising fury. And the whole world turned red.

* * * * * *

The scream followed him back from the dream as he sat up in his hammock, Livy falling back with a little shriek of surprise as he did so, silver eyes staring at a vision of hell. His sudden, violent movement toppled him out of the hammock onto the floor: hands clenched into fists, every muscle on his body standing out in sharp relief and face contorted into a mask of fear and hate. He could smell cordite, taste blood in his mouth, feel the pain of the wounds...

But he couldn't. The night was quiet. He wasn't injured. The air here wasn't laden with blood and propellant. It smelled of jungle, of flowering plants and rich earth and... Livy. Afraid Livy.

His muscles slackened as he took a deep breath, then let it out. Sitting up, Dec rubbed his face then looked at his hands as though expecting to see something on them. He turned his head then to see Olivia nearby, her large dark eyes watching him with a mixture of compassion and fear.

"Sorry." he said in a small, quiet voice, his throat hoarse from the scream. "Didn't mean to... to freak you out. I had a... had a..." his voice faltered and he drew his knees up to his chest, folding his arms across them and laying his head in the crook of his elbow, breathing deeply as he struggled not to break down any further. Livy didn't need him to come apart on her now. Hell, HE didn't need him to come apart now.

"Just a dream. Was just a dream." he said, his voice muffled and face hidden from sight, his words almost a mantra.

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Olivia scrambled back from Declan instinctively at his scream. It had been pure instinct; if Declan made noises like that, she was way in over her head. But instinct was squashed and ignored as rationality returned – it was just a bad dream, there was nothing to fear here.

She eased forward, toward the balled form on the floor. Tentatively, she put her hand on his back; his muscles tensed, but he allowed it. She moved until she had an arm around him. “It’s alright,” she said softly. Olivia put her head on his shoulder and lightly hugged. “I get them too.”

He fell quiet. “It was just a dream,” she assured him, her voice still soft and gentle. “You’re safe here, in this place. No… whatever was haunting you.”

“My unit… in Afghanistan,” he murmured.

Olivia had read reports. She knew, on a purely intellectual level, how bad it had been there. That didn’t come close to actually giving her any idea to what it had been like. She knew, just from Declan’s reaction, that it was pretty awful. Without thought to propriety, only to comfort, she pressed her lips to his shoulder. Speaking softly, she said, “I’m sorry.” She knew what it was like to be bound by horrors from the past. “I’m here, if you need to talk. Or if you need to just be silent.”

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"Kinda both and neither." Dec said quietly, strain still evident in his voice, and Livy felt his body shake with what might be a laugh and might be a choked-off sob. Perhaps both. "It's like... like I want to talk about it, but I'm afraid of what I'll say. Afraid of hearin' it out loud. Y'know?" Livy nodded, resting her head against his shoulder. He was quiet for a long time then, his breathing evening out, and Olivia thought for a moment that he'd fallen back asleep.

"He's always been there." Dec said abruptly, his voice calm and soft. Olivia was puzzled for a moment, but only a moment. There was only one 'He' Declan could be referring to.

"Red?" she asked quietly, more to prompt and encourage than to interrogate. She felt Dec's muscles tense, then relax as he nodded.

"Yeah. That's what the dream really was. It was from him. Showing me that I was him." Dec paused, and sighed. "A little saner, a little more disciplined. But he... He's the real me." Dec's voice turned slightly bitter. "I'm just some wallpaper over the real Declan Perault."

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“No,” Olivia said softly, moving so that she sat facing him. Her hips brushed his as she scooted around into her new position. His head still rested on his arms, and she began to smooth hair back from his forehead. “It must seem like that, that you live in his shadow, but I don’t think so.” Dead silver eyes watched her warily as she spoke.

“Were you just wallpaper, you wouldn’t seem to be a real person,” Olivia said, smiling a little. “I don’t have friends who are fake people. You are Declan; he’s Red. He might be a part of you, a very real and scary part of you, but he’s still a part of the whole.

“All of us have separation like that,” Olivia said softly, her fingers soothing as they brushing lightly over his scalp. “I have situations where I behave differently. I’m a different person around my mother, another person around my brother, still another around… Damien.” There was that note of longing in her voice again. “Yours is just more extreme.”

She sighed and rested her head next to his on his arm, sleepiness making her eyelids droop. Stifling a yawn, she added, “And I like you, just the way you are. So it’s not that bad, really.” Her hand on his head stilled and nearly slipped off before she tucked it around his legs, giving him an odd hug. “Maybe,” she added out of nowhere, “we should rethink the hammock. You fell right out.” Her sleepy voice made the statement oddly plaintive.

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"I was doin' fine in the hammock. It was that fuckin'- uh, frickin' dream that made me fall out." Dec replied with a wry smile. Olivia's head was a pleasant pressure on his arm as she gave him that curious drowsy hug. "C'mon, let's get you back into bed, Livy."

"'m comfy here." Olivia protested without any real force. Dec looked at her eyelids fluttering as she tried to stay awake and smiled faintly. She was getting tougher and more hard-wearing with the constant struggles here, but Livy was still pushing herself to the limit and beyond every day, intent on pulling her own weight.

"Sure you are. C'mon princess..." he slipped an arm under hers and gathered her up gently. Her arms went around his neck as she laid her head against his shoulder and murmured another protest.

"'m not a princess. Watch yourself, buster." A slender finger poked him in the chest, then poked again against the rock-hard muscle there as she grumbled sleepily.

"Whatever you say, ma'am." Dec grinned a little as he set Livy down softly in her hammock. She curled up with a little muttered sound of approval.

"'s better. You're a good man, Declan." She blinked her dark eyes and looked up at him. He smiled back. "You are. I'm not just saying that." she insisted, her gaze searching his face for some sign that her words were being taken to heart.

"Yeah, so are you. A good woman, I mean... Ah, you know what I mean." he chuckled. "See ya in the morning, Livy. And thanks. For... y'know."

"No problem." she closed her eyes, feeling strangely comfortable with those cold metallic eyes watching her. "You'd do... same f'r me."

"Yeah. Yeah I would." Dec's smile widened as that insight cheered him somewhat. He turned and went back over to his hammock, clambering in and getting settled. "G'night, Livy."

"Night." she murmured back, watching him as she drifted off. After ten minutes more, both were fully asleep.

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The idea of having more than one set of clothing had solidified into Olivia’s mind. In fact, now that they had the other creature comforts going, and Declan was getting a steady supply of game daily, and they’d learned some of what they could and couldn’t eat, she could focus on other things.

It was easier thought then done. There were no Gap stores, and no fabric stores. Olivia hadn’t made clothing since high school, when her mother had been into buying organically grown, hand-woven cloth from third-world countries. That phase had ended when both women got tired of looking like hippies all the time. At that, it was back to pre-made clothing, though Deliyah still bought from sustainable stores.

Sewing clothing from bolts of cloth was still different from Olivia’s task. She could weave the fibers they used for the hammocks and netting, but it was way too rough to wear against the skin. She spent the next few days wandering around the area – carefully – looking for things that could be woven into clothing. Declan had been saving hides too, and they were tanning now. But Olivia wanted to have more than just the ‘jungle bunny’ look in lizard leather.

The issue became urgent when Declan was struck by a catmeleon. His tough skin turned away the catmeleon’s strike, but the claws split his waistband, belt and left a long rent in the back of his pants. Olivia wove together a narrow belt for him to tie around his waist, but she couldn’t do much about the gaping tear. His pants, already verging on indecent from wear and tear before that attack, were now distracting to her.

She set her mind to her new task. Taking all of their dried hides, she made a simple loin cloth for him. It was literally a long rectangle that had a thin leather cord at one end; he would have to pass it up between his legs and then tie it around his waist, letting the excess hang over the cord. Olivia didn’t care for it, personally; it was primitive and offered him no protection. She wasn’t sure he needed it, but she still didn’t have to like it.

When he came back with that night’s dinner, she climbed out of the tree house and said, “Here, let me clean that.”

“Pants tore more,” Declan said, his face reddening over his thick beard. He was carefully keeping his back turned away from her.

“Then you’ll probably want this,” Olivia said, smiling and offering the sad garment. “You may want to wear it over your pants until I can whip up something better.”

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"It'll do." Dec smiled as he took the loincloth and held it up for inspection. "Tell the truth, these things are gettin' to be dangerous." he plucked at the torn BDU's to illustrate his point. "Too many trailin' edges and loose flapping bits. Even with the belt, they're barely stayin' on." He grinned at her as he grabbed a needle and thread. "I'm gonna wash and change, see what I can do to preserve some modesty around here."

With that he wandered off in the direction of the river. Livy caught an eyeful of the back of his pants and wished she hadn't: they were totally wrecked, the skivvies underneath the gaping rent all that was preventing Declan from complete indecency. With some effort, Olivia turned her attention to preparing dinner.

It was spitted and roasting over the fire when Dec returned, moving with his usual soundless grace to sit by the fire. He'd actually managed to do something with the wrecked pants. With the help of the loincloth, he'd gathered the loose flaps of fabric together and bundled them up so they looked like a pair of shorts coming to mid thigh, the garment Livy had fashioned fastening the whole ensemble.

"Much better, I'd say." he said as he sat, the firelight refracting in his quicksilver eyes as he looked at her. "Whaddya think?"

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“So very dashing and stylish,” Olivia told him with a giggle, eyeing the Frankenstein creation. “You are ready for Milan.”

“You don’t look so good yourself,” Declan said, giving her stained, tattered clothing a once-over. BDUs were meant to live up to stress, but not the kind of stress that three weeks of constant wear were putting on them.

“Thanks, that’s what a girl loves to hear after slaving over a hot fire for dinner,” Olivia said with a charming laugh. She looked at the brown knee poking through her pants. “I guess I’m not fashion plate myself. I’ll see what I can whip up for myself tomorrow.”

“I’m just teasin’,” Declan assured her softly. “Ya look fine.”

“You’re being nice,” Olivia asserted firmly. “We both don’t look that good. But I’m not out there getting food or checking on the Jaffa or… well, anything like that, so I’ll do what I can.”

“It’s not really necessary-”

“Dec, please,” Olivia said softly. “This is what I can do. You hunt and protect us, and watch the StarGate. I need to do something. If all I do is cheering us up and making life easier, then it’s what I’ll do.”

After a moment, the big specialist nodded. He could tell this was important to her. Olivia always tried to keep up and do her part. He knew it was hard on her to be largely useless. The thing was that she wasn’t useless. She’d come up with dozens of different ways to make their lives easier, and she never balked at what he asked of her. She had done her part, but since she didn’t directly put food in their mouths, she didn’t seem to feel it. And he couldn’t let her just go hunting; it was way too dangerous.

A thought came to him. “You know, if you want to help feed us, I have an idea.” She perked up, and he smiled, glad he’d thought of this.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

As always, she learned quickly, and Declan wasn’t surprised to see two small animals already cleaned and ready for the fire when he returned two days later. “I see the traps worked,” he said, grinning broadly.

“They did!” Olivia blurted gleefully. Bouncing to her feet, she took his kill from him, a large frilled lizard as tall as her from its snout to the tip of its tail. Grunting with the effort, she strained to get it hung to be bled. “I… muph… didn’t have to go far… at all.”

Declan took pity on her and helped her, lifting it the last few inches into place. “Thanks!” she said, lifting its head and expertly slitting its throat over a crude wooden bowl.

“Olivia… when did we get a bowl?” Declan asked, frowning.

“Oh, I made it,” she said. “I wouldn’t recommend eating from it, but it beats having to drag it away from camp to bleed it out.”

“You… made it?” he asked, blinking. “How?”

“You get a section of tree stump and burn a hollow in it with hot coals,” Olivia said. “That’s why I don’t recommend eating out of it. I’ll need to scrape it with a stone for a while to smooth it down, but it works best as a blood-catcher, to be honest.” She glanced up at him, her smile faltering a bit at his expression. “What?”

“You… did all that?” he asked, a little surprised.

She shrugged, turning to the smaller creatures already skewed. As she spoke, she started to add some tubers to the spit. They’d found them to be edible, if a bit earthy. “What do you think I do all day?” she asked with a teasing grin. “It took me days to make that bowl, Dec, so don’t think I’m Jane Crocker or something. I just remembered that natives made canoes by burning out chunks of a log. With our hand axes, it was just a matter of diligence and time.”

He stared at her, the dirt on her face and the grimy clothing at odds with her engineering spirit. “That’s incredible,” he said, breaking into a smile.

Olivia just smiled. “Wait until I’m done fixing up this place,” she said. “It’ll feel like your second home.”

They both heard her add, If not mine.

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One Month after being cut off

Dec crouched, keen eyes picking out the faint dark spots on the broad shelf of rock. His nostrils flared at the smell of blood and he nodded to himself - the strange reptilian deer-like creature was still bleeding from where he'd tagged it with the arrow. It was annoying, but sometimes things like this happened: a faint noise unrelated to him had spooked the beast just as Declan had loosed, and the shaft had gone through a fleshy hindquarter rather than through the heart. Before he could draw again, the creature had dashed off with incredible speed.

A good hunter doesn't allow a wounded animal to live in pain. That lesson had been drilled into Declan at a very young age by his woodsman uncle. So he had followed the scent and blood trail many miles, further away from his and Livy's home than he usually ranged. He rationalised that Livy would be fine - the pheromone sticks were still working to keep away the wildlife - and so he felt secure in following up his botched hunt.

He trotted across the rock and leapt across a narrow gorge to the other side, a ragged, wild-looking figure in his Frankenpants (as he'd begun calling them around Livy, which was usually good for a giggle) and little else. His hair and beard had grown out heavily over the last two months, though Olivia's discovery/invention of something that approximated soap at least kept his flowing head- and facial-hair clean. It smelled fairly nice, too. Kinda flowery without being sissy. Livy had laughed when he'd said that-

He was broken out of his reverie by the ground shifting underneath him. Quick as ever he gathered his muscles to spring clear, but cursed as the rapidly moving soil gave him no purchase and he fell into the widening hole into the darkness beyond.

Dec fell for maybe twenty feet before he landed like a cat, silver eyes narrowing as he tried to penetrate the dark cave he found himself in. At first he thought it was a natural sinkhole, but the light from overhead showed that the walls and floor of this chamber had been carved somehow. Someone or something had made this chamber. Coupled with the stench of dead things underlaid with a musky, odd scent, and Dec's instincts screamed 'trap!'

A faint noise behind him brought his instincts fully into play. Whirling, he dropped his bow and tore free a machete as something horrific rushed forward. It was about the size of a large pig, with a plated body suspended on a dizzying tangle of sharp-edged, chitinous limbs that possessed far too many segmented joints. In aspect it was similar to a spider, if that spider had been combined with a crab and an armadillo. Around it's glittering red eyes writhed a mass of tangled, glistening tendrils that tested and probed the air. It's flexible, narrow proboscis quivered in hungry anticipation as two larger, more powerful limbs with heavily bladed, hatchet-like tips lashed out at Declan with a speed that would have left a normal man spitted like a hare.

He swayed under one striking limb and brought the machete around in a whistling arc, striking the other precisely in the segmented joint just behind the heavy blade. The severed tip fell to the floor and the thing screeched in outraged pain, pivoting and lashing out once more with it's remaining weapon. With contemptuous ease, Dec leapt and twisted in mid-air over the attack, landing on the thing's back, reversing his grip on the machete and striking down right in the middle of the cluster of eyes. The thing heaved once, throwing him off, then dropped like a stone, the fiendish light in it's eyes fading. Dec wasn't even breathing hard.

"Business as usual." he muttered to himself with a tight grin as he approached the thing and pulled his machete free. As the blade came loose with a crunching, sucking sound the critter quivered and spasmed violently, the limp tendrils around it's eyes stiffening and lashing out. Declan jumped back, but not before one brushed against his bare calf. He felt a sting there as though a glowing cigar-end had been pressed to his flesh.

"Shit!" he swore, feeling the hot flush around the contact point as his body fought against what was obviously poison. Dec wasn't too concerned: after all, he was a nova. He was more pissed off at his carelessness than anything else. Grumbling, he wiped his machete clean and looked for a way out of the damn cave. Seeing some thick tree roots lined the hole, he began to navigate his way up them.

* * * * * *

One hour later, Dec knew he was in trouble.

The sting on his leg had developed into a welt. That wasn't so bad. It was an angry red colour and was weeping watery blood. Even that wasn't so bad. What was bad was the shooting pains running up and down his leg and the way the redness was spreading from the wound. Another thing that was definitely bad was the way his body was breaking out in a sweat as he jogged home, and the waves of dizzyness that were growing stronger with every passing mile. Whatever the toxin in that sting had been, it was wearing down his nova constitution and the more he moved, the faster it seemed to be working.

He was nearly home, though. He had hit the river twenty minutes ago and knew that if he just kept straight, he'd get to Casa SG-10.5 (half of SG-21 - Yeah, sometimes you had to work for the funny when marooned) soon enough. He'd passed the outer warding marker-sticks just now...

Another wave of dizzyness hit him and he stumbled- stumbled! He hadn't stumbled since the Ancient Device had transformed him, dammit. He shook his head to clear it, which proved to be a mistake. The stumble became a swoon, and the last thing Dec saw was the canopy of the trees overhead and the dark soil underfoot spinning as his voice came out in a surprised croak...

Then it all went black.

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Olivia was worried. Declan was way overdue; he’d never been out this late before. She glanced at the night sky, noting that she could see stars. She swallowed nervously and climbed up to their tree house, then went higher into the branches. She did this sometimes, to see the sky. A glance to the horizon where the sun set scared her further; the sky was a uniform black, which meant it was truly dark.

“Oh, shit,” she whispered, turning her attention downward and clambering back down out of the tree. She handled the navigation from branch to branch with the ease of familiarity, but she still felt better when she touched the floor of the house.

Their knapsacks were here, hanging on the wall. Worried, Olivia grabbed hers, loading it up with an extra canteen of water and some of the roots that had become a staple of their diet. She thought about grabbing some of the meat keeping warm near the fire, but she didn’t think it’d travel well. The last thing she grabbed was her jacket, pulling it on for a bit of additional protection.

Olivia wasn’t sure which way he’d gone this morning, but she knew he tried to vary the direction he traveled daily. She knew he’d gone north yesterday, so she went east now, crossing the river on the narrow rope bridge they’d built.

The next hour was kind of a dark nightmare for Olivia. She ventured out to the bounds of their area to the east, then dared to go further, pushing into the night. Every step was taken on shaky legs, and she had to focus to hear something other than the pounding of her own heart. She persevered until she was attacked by a catmeleon. It slammed into her, knocking her to her back. Shrieking, she twisted her head to the side as it struck, and it caught her hair. The zat was active in her hand, but she couldn’t shoot it while it was in contact with her. Instead, she slammed the weapon into its head.

The catmeleon staggered to the side, shaking its head. Olivia got to one knee and quickly shot it. As it twitched, she shot it again. That should kill it, but she didn’t check. It was violating a rule of their group – eat what you kill, but she just ran back to their area, her knees knocking together. Once safely in the perimeter, she stopped, shaking and crying, her hands braced on her knees. “Come on…” she growled to herself. “Pull it together! Dec needs you.”

Unless he’s dead.

“He’s not dead,” she insisted, clamping down on the hysteria that thought brought. Pushing herself upright, she crossed back over the bridge and thought. She’d tried east, so she went south next. She was almost to their perimeter when she saw the slumped form on the ground. “Declan!”

Olivia raced to his side and dropped to her knees, ignoring the pain that caused. Fear made her dizzy, and her vision blurred with horrified tears as she turned him over. To her relief, his pulse was still racing under her questing fingers. “Oh, god, oh, god… think Livy! Think!”

The first thing to do was figure out what was wrong. But here in the dark on a trail, she couldn’t do that well, or perhaps at all. She gently shook him, praying she wasn’t hurting him worse, but he couldn’t be roused. She’d have to get him back on her own. He was too heavy to carry, but maybe she could drag him, with a bit of help.

Olivia hunted around for a while before finding two limbs of the right thickness and length. It took more time to roll him back and forth, arranging the branches under him. But once she had them in place, she was able to lash him to them. “Now, the hard part,” she muttered, crouching and grabbing the ends of the poles. “With your knees, girl,” she whispered, then tried to lift.

It took her two tries; she simply wasn’t ready for the weight the first time. Her legs gave out before she could rise out of her crouch. The second time, she braced herself better and managed to get to her feet. For a second, she stood, swaying and panting, unsure if she could make it. “You have to,” she gritted out through clenched teeth.

By the time she reached camp, Olivia was bone tired. But she wasn’t done yet, not by a long shot. Groaning, she put Declan by the fire, knowing that she wouldn’t be able to move him again. She untied him, fumbling with the knots she’d so easily secured. Shaking, she knelt for a while, catching her breath. When she could do more than gasp brokenly for air, she snatched up a flashlight, not trusting the flickering flame of the fire.

She needn’t have bothered. The moment she saw his leg, she saw the problem, despite the bad light. “Oh, fuck,” she said, allowing the curse word since the situation certainly merited it. “What is that?” It was clearly a poison, but she wasn’t sure what to do about it. She wasn’t even sure how he’d gotten it.

“Alright,” she muttered, grabbing cloth out of her bag. She took their tiny coffee pot and filled it with water; he’d need a hot compress to draw it out, she hoped. She wasn’t sure what else to do other than to get water and food ready for when he woke up. The small game she’d been cooking were now dried husks, and she threw them into the fire. Now she wished she hadn’t thrown away the catmeleon. With a sigh, she set out some of their ‘rainy day’ MREs.

Sitting next to Declan, Olivia took his hand and waited. “Come on,” she said softly to him. “Wake up.” When her plea failed to rouse him, Olivia started singing, keeping back the night and her fears with song.

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Someone was singing. It was a soft voice, a female one. A woman was singing nearby, holding his hand.

My mother. the sleeper thought with a comforting sense of security. Then he frowned. She died when I was a baby. So who's singing?

It's a fuckin' trick. the Other sleeper snarled drowsily. You're surrounded by enemies. Wake up and kill the fuckers.

No. We know that voice.

Now that ya mention it...

Yeah. Livy.

Why's she holding our hand? A wave of dull pain shot up Dec's leg and through his groin. Oh shit... That fuckin' bug poisoned us.

Yeah. We better see what it looks like.

Well, we ain't dead yet. Up and at 'em.

Declan opened his eyes, turning his head slightly and looking at Livy. She sat beside him, her delicate thumb rubbing over the knuckles of his hand as she sang, her eyes regarding the dancing flames of the fire as it's light turned her skin dark gold.. He didn't recognise the song entirely. It was a product of Earth, so out of place here... yet her voice wasn't. Her voice was a bridge, a way of connecting with a world he'd never had much to do with even when he lived there.

"Hey, Livy." his voice was a croaking whisper, yet she heard him and gave a happy-sounding gasp.

"Dec! You're awake! Oh god... What happened?" Dec licked his lips. His tongue felt dry and swollen.

"Feel like shit. Water?" he rasped. Olivia nodded, filling a cup and holding it to his lips carefully. Dec tried to lift his arm to take it himself, but the heavy limb barely lifted more than a few inches before he had to let it flop back down again.

"Careful." Livy cautioned him. "Something nasty got you. You should see your leg." she glanced at it, then looked back at his face, a faintly sick expression on hers. "On second thoughts..."

"Don't need to. Can feel it. It's fighting my entire body right now, but the leg feels like it's on fire." Dec gritted his teeth. "Even my hair hurts. Fuckin' careless bastard." he swore at himself. His silver eyes were clouded in pain as he looked up at her. "Describe the wound to me, Livy." She nodded and peered at his leg.

"It's red and swollen all the way from knee to ankle, except for a sunken-in bit around the sting itself. There's black blotches around that area too. Further up..." she swallowed. "Your veins are showing red, Dec. It looks terrible."

"Okay." Dec forced himself to relax and closed his eyes. "Hold a hot compress over that wound. As hot as it gets, you hear? I don't care if it scalds my skin." Livy nodded and dunked the cloth in the boiling water as Dec continued. "It sounds like a three-stage venom. There's the neurotoxin, which is what's making me too weak to move. Then there's the necrotoxin, which is slowly eating at me. My body's fighting it, but the third stage is making that tough. That's the hemotoxin. It's spreading through my blood, attackin' the red cells." Livy was forced to smile.

"When did you become an expert?" she asked, fishing the steaming cloth out of the water. Dec grinned weakly, his skin waxy in the firelight.

"Did some trainin' in the Mojave. The rattlers there inject a mixture of neuro and hemo into their prey. Necrotoxin's more of a spider thing: stays around the wound and liquifies the tissue. Brown Recluses use that." He nodded towards the cloth. "Go ahead and press that to my leg. Don't mind me if I holler, just keep it pressed down."

"Okay." Olivia replied, her lips firming into a tight line as she looked from her friend's face to his leg. Taking a deep breath and using two flat-tipped sticks that usually doubled as stirring spoons, she dropped the cloth over the bite and held it there.

Dec screamed in pain, his hands tightning into fists and ever muscle in his body cording, but he didn't thrash. Through some iron self-control or determination, he held still while Livy firmly pressed the compress down and tried not to think too hard about what sort of pain he was in. His scream died off into a groan as he took first one deep breath, then another.

"'kay." he gasped at length. "That... that oughta do it." Using the jolt of adrenaline that had galvanised his muscles, he sat bolt upright, closing his eyes and gritting his teeth against the urge to swoon. "Dunk that back in the hot water, and you might want to look away. Gonna squeeze whatever I can out of that puncture."

Livy nodded again, dropping the cloth into the pot and looking away, hearing Dec grunt softly with effort. A sickening, cloying smell made her wince and nearly gag, and she heard Declan swear sulfurously, pain and disgust mingling in his voice. "Okay, hand the cloth back here." Fishing it out once again, she passed it back to him, hearing him hiss as he took the boiling rag from her and used it to clean his leg.

"Goin' to need to keep this clean." There was obvious strain in Dec's voice despite his calm demeanour as he tossed the rag onto the fire. Livy caught a glimpse of a blackened cloth, as though it were covered in red-stained oil. "Reckon I got the worst out, though." Looking back around, Livy saw that the swelling had gone down a little around Dec's leg. His face looked haggard, however, silver eyes filled with tears of pain and fatigue. He tried to lay back gently, but was forced to slump gracelessly instead as the brief moment of strength deserted him. He gave her a wan smile, his eyes starting to flicker closed.

"Hopefully the shit that's in my bloodstream won't be so hard to fight now." he muttered. Livy watched him for a moment, worried both for him and for herself. If Dec died...

His hand lifted slightly, taking hers in a gentle grip. His skin felt too hot, and he looked like crap, but there was something comforting about that gesture. I'm not going anywhere easily, kiddo it seemed to say.

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  • 2 weeks later...

Olivia watched Declan sleep – or maybe he was just unconscious. Whatever was going on, there was literally nothing else she could do for him. She climbed back up to their tree house and pulled down her sleeping roll. After a moment, she pulled down the hammocks and tossed them down, too. Dragging her zat out of her backpack, she clutched it to her chest and lay down next to Declan. She put her hand on his arm, her small fingers curling around his wrist. She easily found his pulse, but it wasn’t enough. It wasn’t comforting enough.

Olivia scooted closer, until her breasts brushed his arm. She reached out and put her hand on his chest, her hand sliding over his bare flesh until she felt his hammering heart. Its steadiness, despite the pressures the poison were putting on it, did more to convince her that it was ok to rest. She kept her hand where it was, letting the steady thump count for her until she fell asleep.

She awoke sweating despite it being a cool night. The fire was mere coals, but that wasn’t the reason she was dripping wet. Declan was burning like a furnace; her skin was slick and sticky where it was connecting with his. “Dec?” she asked, gently shaking him. “Dec, how… what do I need to do?”

There was no answer from him other than a whispered groan. Olivia stopped shaking him, smoothing the hair back from his hot forehead. “Hang on, I’m going to… do something.” What was she supposed to do for fever? Olivia struggled to remember; this hadn’t been part of her training, really. However, with a fever, you tried to keep them cool. She grabbed her blood bucket and ran to the river, filling it. When she got back, she knelt next to Declan. Her hands shook as she wrung out a rag and began to try to cool his burning skin. She hoped that this could help him, because she wasn’t sure what else she could do for him.

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Declan swam in a sea of agony.

The pain was incredible, as though every nerve in his body from the skin inwards was being pierced with white-hot needles. Some dimly working part of his brain knew, even in this delirium, that the pain was because his body was fighting back, his incredible vitality forcing back the tide of poison. But that knowledge was almost subconscious, as far below the madness of pain as it was. Every muscle was tensed rigid as he reflexively clenched against the hurt. It was unbearable. He wanted to just let go and stop figh-

*Don't you fuckin' dare, Dec. Don't you give up now. We ain't never given up in our fuckin' LIFE!*

*Hurts. Why don't you try dealin' with it, asshole?*

*You want me to take over and get pain-mad? I'd try to kill everything around us, Dec. Probably over-exert us and we'd die, but not before mindlessly killin' poor Livy. You're the best at enduring, buddy.*

*Livy.*

*Yeah, she's there. You can't feel it consciously through the pain, but she's talkin' to us and tryin' to get us cooled down with water. She sounds scared*

*Gotta wake up. Burning up here.*

"...urning up here..." Livy heard him mutter as his eyelids flickered spasmodically. She leaned closer, shaking him a little more.

"Dec. Please, talk to me." Under the concern, Livy knew she was afraid. Afraid for him, afraid for herself if he should die. She almost cried out from mixed relief and despair as his eyes opened, looking around blindly. There was a glazed, sightless expression in them.

"Livy?" He asked, his voice a croak, as though his throat was petrified. "Can' see ya..."

"Dec, I'm here." She laid a hand on his brow and winced. It was terrifyingly hot. "What do I do?"

"Cold water. Lots 'f it." he muttered hoarsely. "Inside 'n' out. Cool me down, keep me hy-" he struggled to speak as though his air supply was short. "-Hydrated." he gasped. "Clean the shit... off that I'm sweatin' out. Heart's... strong. Can... take the shock. Body'll do the rest." His face contorted, teeth clenched and the tendons in his neck standing out as he tensed again, his breathing coming in short, shallow gasps for a long moment before he consciously relaxed again. "Sorry, hurts like... a motherfucker, Liv."

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“Ok,” she whispered, not sure how to do that. “Keep you cool, you can take the shock… got it.” Olivia sat back for a moment trying to think about how to do that. A thought came to her, and it was either the best thing she could do, or it was the worst. She jumped into action, grabbing rope and running to the river. She snagged the rope around a tree and tied it tight, then ran back to Declan. Grabbing him under his armpits, she dragged him toward the water.

At the edge, she tied the rope around his chest, securing him to shore. Then she dragged him into the water. Declan screamed as the chilled water surrounded his overheated body, and Olivia found herself tearing up in sympathy. “I’m sorry,” she whispered as she wrapped her arms around him, holding him in place. The cold water soaked into her scant clothing quickly, leaving her with chattering teeth. “Just hold onto me,” she told him, able to support his weight in the water.

Declan put his arms around her, pressing to her body. Where he touched her, she felt warm; the rest of her was frozen. Olivia focused on keeping their heads above water, finding it harder than she assumed. For a while they remained in semi-frozen suspension, Olivia speaking softly to Declan, hoping that her words would be comforting.

When she felt herself tiring, she pulled them both closer to the edge of the stream. She sat down, sinking into the mud, feeling the grit working its way into her pants. She pulled Declan down with her, gently steering him to sit between her legs. “C’mon,” she whispered, tugging him back to lean against her as she found a comfortable rock to recline against. Her arms circled his shoulders, cradling him to her body as she assured him, “I’ve got you.”

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  • 4 months later...

The pain was intense, but worse than that for both aspects of Declan's fractured psyche was the feeling of helplessness. Red paced back and forth in his corner of their mindscape, a caged tiger who knew, in this case, that to break free meant his death. Dec felt weak, barely aware of his limbs or his ragged breathing. He had difficulty even telling when his eyes were open: the difference was mainly one of shades of darkness. But one thing he was aware of was Olivia. Her arms around his shoulders, her breath in his ear as she spoke to him as all the while the poison waged a deadly war with his body.

"I've got you." The phrase touched something deep inside him, a chord that had seldom resounded in his stark existence. Ever since his uncle, himself not the most tender man, had died and a young Declan had passed into the foster care system, he had quickly come to learn that he could rely only on himself. Oh sure, squadmates were one thing, but Declan had not looked to anyone for nurture since he was very young indeed. Someone to just be there, someone who would not let him go, would not let him suffer if they could help him...

For Livy hours had past with her shivering and warmed only by the burly hot water-bottle in her arms when suddenly her patient shuddered slightly and went still for a moment. Before she could start to worry, though, she felt Dec's ribs expand as he took a deep, even breath, and one hand came up to cover hers on his chest. He murmured, the words scarcely formed as he lapsed into healing sleep.

"..th'nks, Livy... fo' ev'rthng..."

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  • 1 month later...

Olivia hated to disturb him, but getting him out of the water woke him up anyway. He limped back to camp with the help of a convenient branch and Olivia tucked under his arm, but she had to set up the hammock alone. Declan leaned against a tree, his head hanging and face set in a rictus of pain.

“There,” she said softly – wearily – when she checked to be sure the knots would hold. “Your bed, monsieur.” That got a ghost of a smile from him; she knew he’d smiled only because he thought it would make her feel better. “Just a bit longer, and you’ll be able to rest.”

He grunted in reply and shoved off the tree. Olivia hurried to support him, wrapping her arms around his middle and letting him lean on her when the branch and his good leg wasn’t enough. There were tears of pain in his eyes again as she grabbed the hammock and helped him lie back on the Air Force sleeping bag. “There,” she groaned as she lifted his legs, surprised at how heavy they were.

Than’… ya…” he rasped again, going limp in his bag. Olivia did what little she could to make him comfortable; then she went to stir up the fire again. She was still cold, chilled to the bone, but she knew it was only partially from being in the water. Part of it was shock – Declan had been hurt, but the whole night had been stressful for both of them.

Olivia spent the morning doing idle tasks around the camp, watching Declan and waiting for her hands to stop shaking. When that was done, she felt a wash of exhaustion so strong she was dizzy. She hadn’t thought ahead; the young specialist hadn’t put up her hammock while she was coming down from her adrenaline high. Three attempts to put up the hammock came to nothing and Olivia collapsed on the ground, fighting her own tears. Declan had been the backbone of this tiny group of stragglers – how could she do it alone?

“Livy…” His hoarse voice pulled her to her feet, and she went to his side, wiping tears from her eyes. “Ya need to sleep,” he rasped, catching her by the hand. “Come here.”

Any protests that it was inappropriate died quickly. They’d just spent most of the night plastered against each other in the water; nothing was going to happen other than sleep. She was too tired and he in too much pain. She nodded and carefully climbed in next to him. She was asleep before she’d finished settling into place.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Things still weren’t awkward when she woke up later. She was still tired, and for a moment in her drowsy slumber, she forgot where she was. She knew it was Declan that she was curled against, and she made a soft sound of satisfaction, as she was both safe and warm. She’d been so cold last night that this heat felt heavenly. But her brain had to ask questions, like why was she pressed against Declan? Then it had to answer, and Olivia flushed as she became fully aware of her situation. With that blush still darkening her face, she climbed out of the big sling, asking, “How do you feel?”

“Still tired. Better.” He managed a wan smile. “Kinda hungry.”

“I can manage some food,” she told him with her own tired smile. “Just relax, okay?”

“Ya know, I coul’ get used to ya waitin’ on me hand and foot,” Declan told her.

Relief filled her. If he could joke, he was better. “Well, then, I guess I get poisoned next,” she replied with faux-somberness. “Then you can wait on me.”

“There are easier ways of gettin’ that,” he replied with a teasing spark in his eyes.

“Oh?” Olivia asked, pulling out some of the tubers she’d collected yesterday.

“Ya could ask,” he murmured softly, loud enough that she might not have heard had she not been a specialist.

Olivia blushed at the comment, too tired to come up with something in reply. Instead, she focused on dinner, scraping some hot coals out of the fire and burying the tubers in them. They didn’t taste great roasted, but it was better than raw and she didn’t have anything else. This planet was short on sustenance plants and long on deadly toxins. “These will take a bit. I’m going to check our traps, see if we can have some protein with our starches.”

“I’ll come wit’ ya,” Dec said, but only managed to do a half-sit-up before his strength left him.

“No, you rest,” Olivia insisted, putting her zat holster around her waist. “I’ve got this. I’ve got it.” She put a hand on his chest for emphasis. “I’ll be back before the ‘taters are done.” Declan nodded, but his silver eyes were worried as she turned and headed into the jungle.

Telling him she was worried too seemed to be a little counterproductive to her assurances that she would be fine. She tried for a casual wave at the edge of their camp but wasn’t sure if she’d pulled it off.

All of the traps lay outside the perimeter. Olivia went to the closest, a small spring trap set on a trail path to the water. There was a small six-legged lizard in it; a baby catmeleon, if she wasn’t missing her guess. She took it down and gutted it, wrinkling her nose at the smell. She used the guts to rebait the trap and reset it, then went to the next. Unfortunately, her luck ended there. The rest of the traps – of the ones she was brave enough to check – were empty. One foot-long lizard wasn’t enough, but it was all that they had. Olivia felt her stomach growl, but she resolved that Declan would get most of the meat. He had more mass and he was hurt. The sooner he healed, the sooner he could be back to hunting.

As she tried to estimate how far she could stretch her trap-kills out with the bland tubers, she prayed that he got better fast.

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