Urban Dead: This Means War

[Caz]

Sherry nuzzled against him, turning in his arms so that she could rest her head against his collarbone, but in such a position that he couldn't look at her. His eyes were so clear, so damned honest... They sent a chill through her.

"I let him use me," she said, oddly detached. "He used my body as nothing more than a recepticle."

But what she'd never be able to admit to Mike was how much she'd liked it. How she begged him to. You sick fuck, she berated herself.

[Pcm979]

Mike couldn't relate, obviously. For the average male teen, sleeping around was expected, if not actively encouraged. He couldn't understand it from a woman's point of view on anything except a conceptual level.

"From what you told me of him, I'm not surprised. He sounds like the type of bastard who does it just for bragging rights." He patted her on the back, careful not to touch the burns.

[Dark Silver]

It had taken them several days, but the Second had finally arrived. They moved through the streets in a near perfect military line, weapons at the ready, missing only one of their number.

Silver was already climbing a rope the watch had thrown down, ignoring the angry and suspicious glares being given him.

He had grown used to it in the past several weeks. He took each hateful look, each murderous whisper in stride. It was his penance.

And in truth, he deserved all of it, and more.

He brushed off their glances, and moved into the mall, he would undoubtedly get a "warm" welcome on his way to meet with Petro...

[Caz]

Wouldn't Silver be thrilled upon discovering that, at the time of his arrivals, not only were two of the First Irregulars currently incapacitated, but they'd managed to snag a blind kid, a street gang, and various resources of the Emerald Guard along for the ride.

Sherry rested against Mike, not wanting to explain exactly why it bothered her. Because fucking Jaycee mattered exactly nil to her. Hell, if she got a guilt complex over every guy she'd made eyes with over the stretch of her life, she'd have worn herself down to an emotional raggedness after the first one or two. She never had handled those kinds of things well.

But at least Mike knew. And soon, Petro would know. And it really didn't matter to her so much as the fact that she'd felt she was hiding it from them. Even if it was a ridiculous notion, Sherry was a creature of almost brutal honesty.

[Dark Silver]

They were already shouting at him, little kids ran off to hid, and women whispered to the others nearbye.

"That's him, that's the one.....he lead them..."

He did his best to block it out, power through it. 'This is only the pennance you decided to pay....take it in....don't give them reason to hate you more.'

Those irridescant gray eyes of his, the eyes of a zombie not of a living man, scanned the crowd. There were far more in the mall than normal, and he almost frowned from it. He spotted the blind child not long before arriving at the infirmary.

Damn if the man didn't have a soft heart....

He stopped at the infirmary on his way in, he wanted to make sure Ace would be free to talk after he saw what Petro wanted, and froze at the door at what he say. Members of the First and Militia where on the cots, bandaged up, wounded. and in the corner, Sherry and Mike sat holding each other. He didn't speak, justlet the sheet fall back into place over the door and walked away.

He didn't knock, he never before, just walk on in. He and Petro went to far back to worry about the small things. His eyes focused on the cot in the corner, and the mass of red hair under the covers, laying on it's side.

Silver moved to the cot, and grabbed the blanket, yanking the covers off with his gauntleted hand, without looking, and spoke, "Wake the hell up Petro....

[Caz]

Melanie groaned something as the warm blankets were pulled from her suddenly, bare legs curling beneath her as the ache in her back suddenly brought her to life. Why was he taking the goddamn blankets?! She was grumpy and cold and sick and in her goddamned underwear and...

And that wasn't Petro standing there, blanket in fist.

Melanie stared, wide-eyed. Who...the...FUCK? She'd never seen him in the mall before...

And the bikini-and-bandaged covered redhead staring back at Silver was quite obviously not Petro.

[Josh]

And Petro hobbled in a moment later, leaning on the sword cane he'd procured. "Found some fucking Marlboros..." he paused, looking at Silver hovering over Melanie.

"Well, just let yourself the fuck in, Silver," he said. He tossed the other man a pack of cigarettes.

[Dark Silver]

Silver turned after he heard the groan, about to tell PEtro how much of a lazy fuck he was being...

When he stopped before even a word was let it. The redhead in the bed most definatly was not Petro.

For one, she was a good foot shorter. Second, she lacked a dick and three, which he was saying without even realiezing it...

"That's one amazing set of tits..."

He frowned for a second, not even realiezing he said it, as he tossed the blanket back to the woman, who he noted after prying his eyes from her breasts, had bloodied bandages. Those irridescant eyes fixed on her, and he growled as much as spoke, "Who the hell are you, and where the hell is Petro?"

[Caz]

Melanie couldn't fucking believe her luck some days. She stared at him, a quizzical expression on her face, trying to register what had just happened. Had some guy with a metal fucking arm just ripped her blankets off and proceeded to ignore the gaping wounds in her gut and instead comment on her tits?

Apparently so.

But she was too fucking bewildered to throw a hissy fit at the moment, and just extended a pale hand toward him.

"Melanie Booth, Emerald Guard."

She coughed, clutching at her stomach a bit. Damn, the painkillers seemed to be wearing off...

"Petro's off playing cowboys and indians somewhere, I'dunno where."

[Dark Silver]

Silver nodded as he shook her hand with his un-metalshod one, and turned as Petro spoke up.

"Yeah, well, it's not like I was expecting you to have company. What the fuck happened brother..."

[Caz]

As Petro spoke up, Melanie turned to him and smiled, graciously accepting the blanket as Silver returned it. She snuggled up, covering aforementioned tits and watching the two as she took a sip of the water at her bedside.

[Josh]

"It's a long bunch of different fucking stories. The knee, well, that was when a burned-out BMW kicked my ass," he admitted. "What kind of shape are the 2nd in?" he asked, dropping straight to business.

[Dark Silver]

Silver had his back to Melanie, his hands busy packing the Malboro's, before opening one. He tossed the box back to Petro, and lighted the cig.

A plume of smoke rose from his lips as he began, "Armed and ready, let me know whose throat you want ripped out, and I'll enjoy the taste of his flesh going down my throat. We brought enough consumables for three days operations, and can radio in for more if nessacry."

When Silver said consumables, he didn't mean food, he was speaking in weapons, rifles shotguns and pistols with ammo, thermite gernades, some C4 they looted out of Fort Creedy a week ago while the hordes seemed to be occupied elsewhere. The Second came ready to hunt and kill.

Silver was a example of that, strapped to his back was a battle-axe, different than the one he wore only weeks ago, and a m1911 was strapped to his side. a bandalier of gernades was around his chest, along with a remote detonator. the shotgun was slung on his back, cross the battleaxe's handle.

"Also brought along ten of our Guard."

Silver set those feral eyes on Petro, his voice low, "So....whose the unlucky son of a bitch that I'm going to hunt and eat..."

[Josh]

He pulled the sketch out of his back pocket, unfolding it. "Name's Jaycee. He ran Sherry's old gang. She took it out from under him, and he's declared war on us. He's smart, he's fast, he's good with people. He can pull people in, and he could cause us real problems. But like a snake, you chop off the head..."

[Dark Silver]

He studied the handdrawn picture, commiting everything about it to memory, he would describe the bastard to the rest of the group. The gauntlet creaked as Silver flexed his hand, nodding as hetook another drag.

"Anything special you want done with him? Or am I free to do as I please?"

[Caz]

As the two spoke regarding their target, Melanie forced herself into the best sitting position she could muster and spoke up.

"This is the one who..." She trailed off, leaving it up to them to answer her question at their leisure.

[Josh]

His dark eyes smoldered as he looked at Silver. One thing the men shared was intensity.

"Just dead," he said. "I don't care how."

It was a lie. He'd much rather be the one to bury the little fucker himself. But he had his responsibilities to the community. Those precluded seeking personal revenge.

Torture? Not much of an interest anymore. He knew there was no way that he could make the little fucker suffer like he'd suffered. A person had to be human to hurt like that.

"Just dead," he repeated softly.

[Dark Silver]

Silver shook his head, "Death is to good for him....how many did of ours did he take down?"

Petro would know why Silver asked. The Irregular's were Silver's family, as much as they were Petro's, they brought him back from the otherside, when they could have just put the bullet in his brain and burned his corpse.

Alot of people would have rathered it that way.

Once Silver had the number, he would hunt the little bastard down, and make him beg for death, he would take the suffering of each of the Irregular's upon the boy's body and mind, and when he was finished with him, the Hell Silver would send Jaycee to would seem like Heaven.

After Silver got his answer, he looked back to Melanie, inclined his head towards her, and patted the man he called brother on the shoulder, "If your doing what I think your doing, congratulations. Don't fuck it up like I did mines. Now where's Sherry, I haven't seen the kid since...you know."

[Josh]

"She and Mike, ah..."

He made the infamous hand gestures of conjugation. "Or they're working on heading that way. She just had a rough run-in with the little fucker, he's helping her out. I figure once I see him wander out, I'll go see her again."

[Dark Silver]

The growl that left Silver's lips was loud, and inhuman, it was more like what one of the shamblers did when they attacked.

"He hurt the kiddo, I'll have his fucking nuts bronzed on my office wall...."

Silver's eyes clouded for the moment, all intellegence lost in the feral haze which coated them. It lasted for only a second though, before he spoke, "If she's with Mike...so much the better...I need to see Ace first anyway."

Silver clapsed Petro on the shoulder, his voice a whisper of assurance, "I'll let you know if I get him....and I'll save some of his hide for you...."

[Caz]

Melanie sat up suddenly, fighting back a cry as she once again forgot her injuries.

"Sherry? What did he do to her...?"

The worry was evident on her face.

"Jared said something about her..."

[Josh]

"She'll live," he said.

It wasn't that he didn't care. It was that she'd survive. And frankly, Mike was the best one to talk to her right now, because with Mike, she didn't have to contend with what she figured were Petro's expectations of her. She could let Mike just accept her.

Which was why he had such hopes for the whole thing.

"Thanks Silver," he said. God damn, but what he wouldn't give to be on that hunting party. And if Silver couldn't bring him down in the next week or two, fucking heaven and earth wouldn't get in his way, because he'd bring the little bastard down himself.

[Dark Silver]

After leaving Petro and Melanie to their own devices, Silver shook his head. Some punk bastard was threatening his family, hurt the people he actually cared about. He would pay. The animal in him clawed at the edges of his mind, wanting to be set free, but he forced it back. "I'm not one of those things again.....not yet..." he muttered. He shook his head, ignoring the jeers from the civilians as he went insearch of Ace.

Ace was doing some rounds at the makeshift infirmy, all was quiet so he immidietly noticed Silvers entry. "Hello there, whats going on Silver?", Ace was worried, Silver wasn't in a good shape and the recent news were bound to make his control suffer.

Silver nodded to the young doctor, looking over the wounded laying in the beds. People who risked their lives everyday, who got shot because of a madman. Well, they didn't know the definition of that word yet. His voice was soft as he spoke, doing his best to keep is low, not to disturb the patients, "Ace...." the larger man nodded, "we have an appointment." He was all business, as usual.

"Very well, lets move to someplace quiet, I have a small room around the corner." Ace led the way, wondering how bad the situation would be and what they would do this time.

Silver nodded, clenching his fist as he followed him around back, trying to keep his cool. He had nearly lost it in the room with Petro, he had even let slip things he shouldn't have, talking about ripping into Jaycee's flesh. Ah well, Petro knew, but the girl didn't. She'd think him some freak, which in all truths, he probably was now.

Ace entered the room, it was small, with room for a bed and a desk and a few chairs. "Sit down, tell me whats your status." Ace could be as concise as Silver when he needed to be. Silver took a seat on the bed, fixating those weird irridescant gray eyes on him. "About as well as can be.....I feel like I'm half dead, my head constantly throbs, and the urges are there....and their getting stronger." the big man looked Ace in the eyes, "I don't look on people as people all the time Ace....I'm seeing them as buffets...."

Ace opened one of the drawers, taking out a pile of papers, blood records, analysis, ideas, all relating to Silver. "I'll be blunt, we don't have any new ideas on how to stop this, aside from attempting mass syringe injection and hope it kills all the zombie pathogen. I'll give you a minor injection for now, slow it down until you finsh whatever your up to." Ace shifted through the pile of papers, trying to find the most recent blood tests. "We'll draw some blood again, we think you have a new varient on the zombie illness."

Silver snorted, "Just my fucking luck....I work hard to kill the pussbags..and now I get to become one...." Silver was shaken, normally he wouldn't show it, but the stresses put on him right now, broke his calm demeanor. "Fine....if that's what destiny has instore for me...fuck it huh?" Silver's laugh was weak, as he hung his head, "Just promise me one thing Ace...."

"Yes silver?" Ace dreaded the answer, he had a rough guess on what was coming.

"If you can't stop this shit...make sure I won't come back." With those words spoken, Silver steeled himself, waiting for Ace to do his deed.

"I can't promise anything, we're not even sure what will happen when you turn zombie. But I can promise you one thing, you won't go down before we do everything we can to save you."

The big man took that in. It was comforting, they would do what they could. "Damn it...I know you will Ace...." Silver took a deep breath, "Just don't let me hurt anyone else....."

"The moment you slide, you'll be restrained, same as anyone else, come on Silver, you know the drill, you designed the drill." Ace was trying to cheer up Silver but it seemed Silver was determined to belive the worse.

He snorted, shaking his head. Ace meant well, but he couldn't know, none of them could, what he went through everyday since he came back. He was in torture every day. His voice was strained as he closed his eyes, "Let's just get this over with Ace....I have someone to kill...."

"Okey, okey, you know the drill, roll up your sleave, even if you die now you're helping advance medical science." Ace took out his instrument kit, prepering to take out blood. "Do your job quickly, we might have some ideas when you come back."

Silver nodded, pulling away bandages on his arms, revealing the scars. Months of fighting had marked him, more so in the past few weeks. He held his arm out, and braced himself, "Yeah....I don't intend to make this quick...I want the little fucker to suffer before I eat his entrails....."

Ace started extracing blood, once for analysis, once for expirimentation."Well, its either you enjoy killing him and die, or come back here and we can try saving your life. Be reasonable."

"How long do you think I have?" the answer would determine how long before he came back, for some reason, Ace never seem to give him enough to make sure the job was done right.

"Honestly, at this stage its more up to you, your body should allready have failed but its struggling on, aslong as you keep yourself under control....Take your time." Ace didn't want to say it, but they didn't want him to come back human but fallen, it wouldn't be better.

Silver nodded, putting the bandages back over his arms. He slipped off the table, "Well doc.....may as well inject me...the sooner I leave...the quicker I'll be back"

Ace opened one of the supply cabinets, which used to be overflowing with syringes, but nowdays was half empty. "Relax, you probebly won't even feel differant."

He stifled the chuckle, feeling different meant he actually felt something besides pain. "If I stop feeling anything, it'll be a releif..." Silver went to a knee, and tilted his head forward, giving Ace access to his neck.

Ace didn't waste time, just plunged the needle in, then quickly suprising Silver with another needle. "There, lets see if you feel something."

Silver didn't expect the second needle, growling slightly. "What the hell Ace..." he reached up, touching the injection spot, before eyeing the young doctor. "There's better people you cold be saving that for...."

Ace was suprised Silver didn't understand the reason."I gave you two, you ungrateful person, so you wouldn't snap in the middle, wouldn't risk anyones lives while you turn zombie, do you understand! This is an investment, not a gift and we better get some return on it."

"Yeah...I get it. You'll get your return...." Silver stood up, the color had returned to his flesh, the feralness more subdued in his eyes and expression. He looked almost human, except for those irridescant eyes. "Anything you need me for doc? Or am I free to take down the bastard which hurt our people?"

"Go and do your duty, I won't keep you here."

Silver got to his feet, cracking his neck and nodding. "Thanks Ace....I owe you a bottle of bourbon after this is done...." He calpped the man on the shoulder, as he strode out of the room, gauntletted hand creaking as it flexed. Ace sat down on his desk, writing down his notes on what happened, worried, because those syringes were growing less effective by the month.

[Josh]

Silver was going off the deep end. Melanie was wounded and recovering. Sherry was hammered into ground beef. As a group, they'd suffered a worse string of personal reverses than they'd faced since the original downfall of the city. Inside the mall, since the initial burst of relief at having a safe haven, the atmosphere was steadily growing more tense, more oppressive.

In short, his people needed a sign. They needed hope.

They'd put the placards on the roof. They'd put their location out on the military bands, using the salvaged radio gear, asking for assistance. There'd been no reply.

Well, no more asking nicely.

Petro reached across the table, flicking the switches to power up the radio gear. He passed up the civilian band frequencies he used for Radio Free Malton, heading straight for the military channels. He pulled the microphone to his mouth, paused to take a drink of water, and then hit the switch.

"Hi. You might've heard me on the radio, you cocksucking sons of bitches. Three fucking months now, we've been sitting in this town, not a word from the outside world. When we do power up the radios and TVs, we get nothing but static on anything that would come in from the outside. Signs are, we've been abandoned. Well fuck you very much, we're not going to die easy in here. We've put things back together, without your support. The survivors pulled together, we've scrounged, we've hidden, we've fought where necessary. And you sons of bitches on the other side of the wall left your own people, your own troops and countrymen here to die while you jacked off and panicked. Well, I'm sure as shit that it looks ugly from out there. It is ugly, let me tell you. Malnutrition is setting in. Even with heavy rationing, we've got maybe a month's food left, here where we've consolidated the stockpiles. We're down to sterilizing with booze, and using fucking scrounged clothes for clean dressing."

He pause, letting off the transmit key.

"So I'm calling you motherfuckers out. Either you support us, or finish the job. Don't leave us goddamned dying out here. You goddamned cowards, you motherfucking pussies, we are your people, and every goddamned survivor in this town is worth a hundred of you worthless cunts on the outside. You know where the major concentrations of survivors are. You overfly us every goddamned day, you can drop us supplies. You know what we need. We need food, medical supplies, survival equipment, diesel, and munitions. Oh, smokes and porno would be nice too, but I won't get greedy. Just... give us a fucking sign that we're not alone in here..."

He hit the switch on the microphone, then killed the power to the radio sets.

There was a trump card, but he refused to play it. He'd studied the layout of the perimeter, and he'd mused it over with Steve and Silver a time or two. They had concluded that if they carried it off right, they could breach the perimeter. Not in any kind of numbers, and it'd be a bloodbath, but it could be done.

It was also agreed that it was the course of action they would absolutely not take. Steve and he had been firefighters. Silver had been a cop. They had all sworn to protect the public. The quarantine had to hold, even at the cost of their own lives.

So...

So it was down to begging.

Please, god damn it. Just give us a sign here.

[Pcm979]

Mike felt a chill waft through the room, and looked up just in time to see the room's dividing curtain drop down again. Someone'd peeked in. Well. He thought. I don't care.

It was getting dark, and cold. Sherry was still dressed in her habitual jeans and halter top, both absolutely ruined. She must be freezing. He took his labcoat off and threw it over both of them.

To tell the truth, she hadn't noticed. Then again, that wasn't particularly surprising, given her current state of mind and body. She shivered a bit at the cold draft, then just fell against him once more, nor having the energy to sit up and wonder what was going on in the rest of the infirmary. Sherry's eyes closed, her resolve to fight to stay awake dwindling.

Mike couldn't see her eyes, but he felt her breathing get slower and deeper. He quickly glanced at his watch in the half-light. Not long enough. He nudged her. "Hey." A little shake. "You can't go to sleep yet."

"Jus' lemmego," she mumbled, pitifully raising her head and staring up at him with a look that couldn't even convey half the pain, the defeat that she actually felt. "I don't care."

He ran his fingers through her hair again. "You might not, but..." He paused. "But I do."

"Why?" she asked in should have been a defensive tone but instead sounded like the last wounded cries of a cornered animal.

Mike took a deep breath. "Because..." He didn't have the words. He couldn't describe what he'd felt when he saw her limping back to the mall, covered in blood. What a time for his way with words to leave him. "Because you're... Special to me."

And the worst part was that, for the briefest of moments, she'd seen it. His horror, his shock, and then his anger at whomever had committed such an act. And she didn't understand it. People didn't worry about Sherry... She was goddamn near untouchable on her good days! "Mike, I'm not..." She started, but then couldn't finish. She wasn't what? Worth his time? The type to stick around?

"You're not going to give up, is what you're not." He said fiercely.

She smiled shakily. "... Wish I had your spirit," she mumbled. Because she felt damn near broken at this point.

"Oh, god." He hugged her tightly and tried to get a hang of himself. He was angry, angry at the bastard who'd broken Sherry. He was happy, because he'd said something he didn't even know he needed to say. He was sad, too. He was everything.

"Just stay awake for a little longer." He finished, inadequately.

She felt so insubstantial, like she was nothing in his arms. Like she weighed little more than a goddamn child. Sherry tried to lift her arms around to hold him, but the way they'd been tied had left her with a nasty ache, and she could hardly raise them above her head. There was a sense of defeat about her as she finally let her body fall slack once more, not having the energy to keep trying. A shudder passed through the strained muscles of her shoulder and back, and she tried to keep her mind in the present, to keep from reliving what had happened as she knew her brain would do again and again.

Mike felt fucking useless. What good was he to the Irregulars if he couldn't handle this? What good was he to her? "I don't know what to say." He admitted. "I don't know what to do."

"Jus' don't leave me," she murmured, falling limp again. She knew she had to stay awake or risk the consequences, medically speaking, but she was so goddamn tired...

"Never." He said with finality. "I'll always be here."

"Stay safe," she begged him nonsensically, lifting a scraped hand and grabbing a handful of his shirt. "... Can't promise I'll control myself if something happens..."

He put his hand over her own. "Always." He repeated.

She rested her head on his arm, and suddenly, something alarming was apparent: the marks on her neck, from when he'd slid his belt 'round her throat.

Mike's breath caught in his throat. The fucking rat-bastard. The rat-fucking bastard. Words utterly failed him.

Sherry coughed weakly against his sleeve, saying nothing. But she saw his eyes change. Don't pity me, she begged in her head. She wasn't made to deal with pity well.

Mike forced his anger back down. This wasn't the time or the place. He just had to see her through this. He would see her through this.

"Mike," she said deliriously. "You're always here..."

I wasn't. I should have been. It was an utterly irrational thought, but it floated across his mind nonetheless.

"Whenever you need me." He rocked her slightly.

She smiled, a twisted and pitiful thing. "I don't need the doctor," she said, "jus' you."

He buried his face in her hair. "And I need you."

"What d'you mean?" she asked. He'd always been the one helping her, never vice-versa.

He grinned weakly. "I don't know what I mean, but I damn well mean it."

She laughed as best she could. "Fine with me. Jus' don't get yourself all beat up like me."

"Oh, don't worry about me. Besides," He made another weak attempt at humour, "I could just patch myself up again."

She grinned. "Yeah... But keep in mind that you're special to me too.

He grinned, a real smile. He was really happy for the first damn time that day.

"I said I'd always be here, and I mean it." He hesitated, and planted a kiss on the top of her head.

She paused as well, then smiled dreamily, or at least as best as she could smile giving her injured state. The kiss had been unexpected, but not unwelcome. She leaned heavily against him, her eyes falling shut.

He quickly glanced at his watch, the dials glowing in the darkness. It was long enough. He stayed there, holding her as she slept.

However, her sleep was not a calm one. She tossed, turned, murmuring and moaning in the darkness of the room.

He made calming noises and stroked her hair whenever she twitched, shushing until she settled down again.

Her hands clenched into fists, and she began to actively murmur a bit, and it soon became apparent that she was reliving those few hours under his control. She whimpered aloud, clutching her right hand to her chest. The one he'd nearly chopped.

He hugged her tightly and whispered reassuringly. "Hey, hey. You're fine, baby. I'm here."

She awoke with a gasp, weakly pounding at his chest as though trying to get him away. Her nostrils flared, her eyes were wide, her heart pounding. She clutched feebly at her neck, trying to catch her breath. Sherry was utterly lost at the moment, waking up and finding someone beside her was confusing and terrifying.

He withdrew quickly and gave her room to recover, palms facing toward her.

"Whoa, whoa." He said. "It's me, you're fine."

She stared at him, her strange eyes not comprehending. "I was... You were..."

"You were having nightmares. I was trying to help."

He poured her another cup of water and held it out.

She stared at him. "... Oh."

She nodded. "I feel..." But she collapsed before she could finish. "...sick."

He played with her hair subconciously as the problem-solving side of his brain kicked into action. "How so? Do you think you're going to throw up?"

She shook her head, then clutched her stomach, dry-heaving. "I don't puke much," she said. "The smell..." She said nonsensically.

He pulled her upright, minimizing her chances of throwing up. "Nausea? Or just general godawfulness?"

"The burns... The smell..." She looked as though she'd been slapped.

He didn't understand. "Talk to me." He grabbed her hand. "Something about when you got burned?

She nodded. "I can't stop smelling it... Like it's still happening..." She dry heaved again, but managed to keep herself from throwing up. Her hand was cold and sweat-slick in his.

Mike recognised the onset of shock, and dealt with it as best he could. He wrapped her in his coat, to prevent chills, and hugged her, leaving leeway if she felt her personal space was being violated.

"It's over now. You're safe."

Sherry stared blankly at the ceiling as though dead. Her breath came in short, low gasps. "Mike," she said, "none of us are safe."

"You're as safe as you can be. It's a start. We all look out for one another." He spoke calmly but firmly.

How did I even make it this far? she wondered with a deflating sigh. She just had to remember that she was back at the mall now. Safe to heal for as long as she could before she had to find him and make him pay. For what he'd done to Colin, to Ron, to Melanie, to herself.

"That's it." Mike said soothingly. "Deep breaths." He loosened his grip on her, and pulled back until they were eye-to-eye. "Better?" He searched her mismatched eyes.

She would normally have appeared confident, at least in the fact that they'd survived thus far and could possibly continue. She could look sarcastic, tired, amused, loving, drunk, all number of things. But this was something new, something that would make his throat tighten with worry: a shallow, clouded gaze reflected nothing but fear. He'd broken her.

He sighed and pulled her close again. "We'll get through this. We always do. Always."

"I don't doubt that," Sherry said in a bizarrely cold tone. "What I'm worried about is getting through it intact."

Mike didn't have anything to say to that; Anything he could say and remain honest, anyway. He realised all of a sudden that he'd rather Sherry was her old self, and they hadn't bonded, than her being broken.

She watched him curiously. "What're you thinking?" she slurred, still dizzy from the blood loss.

He grinned slightly falsely. "I'm thinking you should drink more. Tell me when you're up to having something to eat, too."

She smirked. "When I can get the smell of burning skin out of me I'll let you know." Harsh, brutal, true. That was Sherry to a fault.

He grinned for real now. "That's the Sherry I like to hear. Really, though, don't think me a nag, but..." He held the cup out.

She sat up slightly, taking it in a still-unsteady hand, but she finished the water. Because he had asked it of her, not because it mattered. Sherry was funny like that, an innate rebel yet sometimes eager to please.

"Five points." Mike joked good-naturedly. "Can I get you anything? Pillows?"

"It's really not that bad," she said. What she didn't say was that it wasn't her body she was worried about. She was fine, she assured him. She'd definitely survived worse. Hell, he'd been there.

Mike felt slightly reassured, but even discounting personal feelings she was his patient now, and he worried about his patients.

On an impulse that she couldn't really explain or comprehend, she leaned up and gently, carefully pressed their mouths together. "He who limps is still walking," she whispered.

Her mouth tasted of blood and smoke, but Mike didn't care. He wrapped his arms around her, supporting her weight.

Despite herself, her condition, she pressed the kiss further, her tongue sliding along his lips. Sherry had no idea at that point what she was doing... But that was okay. It felt good.

Mike twisted his head, locking their lips. He exhaled slowly and swallowed, wondering briefly if he wasn’t taking advantage of her. But then Sherry shifted as well, lifting her chin so she had better access to him, slipping her tongue into his mouth as one of her arms snaked up to his shoulder, her hand resting where it met his neck. She seemed to calm, her breath slowing and evening out.

Mike moved his hands to support her back, and closed his eyes. His tongue tentatively brushed against her lips.

She opened her mouth, obviously not as tentative as him. Then again, she'd just lost a good two or three pints of blood and was on that 'do not operate heavy machinery' level of functioning by that point.

He carefully extended his tongue, probing the inside of her mouth. It brushed up against her tongue, tickling delightfully.

And despite her wounded condition, she couldn't help but let out a high, light moan at the feeling. She'd almost forgotten what kissing was, for God's sake.

Mike heard the moan and misinterpreted it, breaking the liplock and looking at her with concern.

She was staring up at him with heavy-lidded eyes, an unfamiliar expression on her face. When she noticed the look he gave her, she blinked. "What...?"

"When you- I thought... I'm a twit." He laughed.

She laughed, shaking her head. "You're baffling, Freeman." Meant as somewhat of a compliment, she thought, ehm... Yes. Compliment. But damned if he wasn't a careful, methodical kisser. To someone that just charged into battle no matter the subject--like Sherry--it was the careful ones, the people that planned beforehand, that seemed to be almost alien in their efficiency.

"Nah, I'm just stupid." He grinned. They were still holding each other, so he let her down slowly. "It's, ah. It's my shift now. I need to grab some stuff."

She nodded, knowing that she'd probably just made him uncomfortable. But... She could live with that. She did that to a lot of people. Sherry winced a bit as the burns on her back touched the bed, but was otherwise just fine. She smiled up at him, supportively. "Thanks," she whispered.

He grinned back. "Anytime." He pulled the labcoat over her and headed for the door.