In Need of Assistance? (TF2)

Forty-Three: A Chance Meeting in the Bush

        "That's the ticket," he whispers as I use his lighter to put a flame to the pile of sticks I gathered. "You gotta-- You gotta give it some air."

Blowing gently on it, the flame grows and crawls all over the branches. The heat slowly grows which makes this a whole lot easier to think about. I started a fire, this is good. Sniper wasn't too sure about having me do everything, but I didn't give him much of a choice given the circumstances. He fell asleep a few times while I was carrying him, I learned, and that isn't something that I can let happen. He has to be treated, but we don't exactly have a first-aid kit for even the basic notion of a bandage or such. Once we settled down, I took inventory. We have Sniper's wallet, rifle, knife, pack of cigarettes, lighter, some bullets, and a fire. I'm going to have to tend to his wounds.

"Sniper," I quietly start as I sit next to him. He gently turns his head to face me. "We have to do something, you're badly hurt."

He shakes his head and rests it on the trunk of the tree I propped him up against. "No can do, Luv."

"Yes can do, 'Luv,'" I oppose. He finds this amusing as he chuckles.

"Some things, you can't help, Freddie."

"Yes, you can."

He doesn't respond and slowly moves his hurt arm. I grab his hand and rest it at his side again. He takes his other hand and slides it into his pocket as if he's looking for something before giving up. "This bushman's on his way out."

"Stop saying that," I sigh. "We can do this, Sniper. I just need you to be a little more enthusiastic about surviving."

"I'm being honest here. We can be battlers all we want, but that doesn't mean we'll make it back in one piece."

"Sniper," I take a deep breath. "Be positive. Just once. Uh, didn't you say you out-sniped circles around this guy?"

He winces. "Obviously he's gotten better. I'm a city rat sniper now, I haven't needed bush skills in forever. And I'm no help to you since I'm a bit crook. I'm keeping your hopes low so you're not bloody devo when I keel over."

"You're not," I sternly tell him as I pick up the knife. I could heat this up...

"Mmm," he hums, and I turn back to him. He looks at me in the eyes. "Freddie, I'm a goner."

"Stop saying that. Look, I'm going to cauterize your wounds. You're still bleeding."

"Mate, drop it. Stop."

I frown at him. "I'm trying to save your life." He goes quiet again and hums a bit more, sounding like a song going nowhere. His voice is gravelly and tired. He clears his throat of a tiny cough when he runs out of air. I have to think this through. We don't have bandages, we don't have a needle for sutures or any tweezers, and I have nothing to wrap him up with when I'm done. Well, I could use my shirt as bandages if I cut it into scraps. It wouldn't be wise to go sticking my finger into his bullet holes. They'd have to stay in there until someone can look at it.

"It doesn't matter, Luv, we're stuck out here. Bloke's got a whole jeep and knows his way around a rifle."

"You do, too. You can just teach me and tell me what to do."

"It's not that simple." He sounds done, but I can't let him be. "Just give it up."

"No. Name one thing you wanna do."

"For what?"

"Anything," I shrug. "Doesn't matter, just pick something you've always wanted to do."