Stranded on an island with hostile soldiers after escaping a madman's death ship was how you spent the past seven years. You had to fight to survive every day, and you lost friends along the way. But now you're back in Central city, and you're ready...
"For a guy as rugged as you are, you have pretty gentle hands." Your eyes flutter open as you feel the calloused hands of Slade lifting your shirt and wiping a wet rag over your bullet wound. A scoff is all you hear in return, paired with the faint sound of rustling fabric as he shifts to grab something.
"Swallow." A cup is brought to your lips, and you obey the gruff order, pushing the thought of poison to the back of your mind as you taste the horrid medicinal mixture.
"That tastes worse then I probably smell after this long without a shower."
Slade chuckles as he takes the cup from you and sets it down somewhere out of sight. Meanwhile, you turn your head to try and figure out where you are. "I can assure you it tastes much worse. You can wash off in the lake after I stitch you up."
"Thanks grumpy." A yawn leaves your lips as you focus on your surrounding to drown out the prickles of pain you're feeling as the decidedly Australian man pulls the needle and thread through your skin.
"Why are you here." He ignores the nickname you gave him, and you shiver as his hand brushes against your skin again.
"I swam. A wack job named Ivo was keeping me and some others prisoner on a boat. I promised the others I'd come back with reinforcements to get them out too. What about you two? Vacation gone wrong?"
Slade finishes the stitches as you finish your explanation, and you're finally able to figure out what you're in as he helps you sit up. It's a large plane. Most of the interior having been torn out, and random supplies laying around rather unorganized.
"That doesn't matter anymore." The tall man climbs to his feet, and stretches, giving you enough time to push yourself up as well. "Oliver's out hunting. So let's get you to that lake."
~Two hours later~
The harsh island sunlight beats down on the two of you as you return from the lake. Slade pays no mind to the temperature, the faint sheen of sweat on his skin not seeming to bother him in the slightest as he walks at I brusque pace back to the grounded plane he's been calling home. You're almost impressed by how easily he seems to be able to navigate through the thick foliage, but the heat is making your head pound, so you try to just focus on where you're putting your feet.
"Keep up little girl."
Wrinkling your nose at his words, you shoot him a glare and stick out your toungue behind his back. "I'm not little." Your mumble barely reaches his ears, and he scoffs, before rolling his eyes and continuing up the trail that only he could see.
How he knows where to go, when to turn and where to avoid fascinates you, as you would have gotten lost ten times over by now if you were still on your own. Slade seems to be having no trouble with the rough terrain, but you're struggling. The walk to the lake was easier. Being mostly downhill, and the Australian man seemed to be in a better mood as he let you lean on him a bit at the rougher parts. But now that you're on your way back, it's all uphill and he's less interested in helping you.
The man seems to find amusement in your struggles by now, and you just barely caught the hint of a smile as he watched you trip over a tree root. The pain in your side has dimmed to a dull ache, curtesy of the healing herbal tea the two men had given you throughout the night and early today. Slade had explained a bit of what's going on, on the island while you were washing off in the lake, and you just about died when he said that the soldiers probably would have tortured you for information. It just seems like no matter what kind of mess you get yourself out of, you're thrown headfirst into another one.
The ground finally evens out, and you're able to see the clearing up ahead as Slade makes another turn around a suspiciously clear path.
"Let me guess, traps?"
The grunt of agreement from the otherwise quiet Australian ahead of you makes you feel semi-accomplished, as you had finally been right about something on this island. Slade finally leads you into the grassy clearing where the crashed plane lies in all its glory, and by the time you're halfway across the field, you can smell cooking meat.
Oliver must have gotten back from hunting. The realisation makes your mouth water as you approach the metal structure, and your fatigue is mostly forgotten as you mentally tell the heat to screw off and speed up a bit.
The blond haired man is sitting next to a fire in front of the plane, cooking some sort of small bird over the open fire as he chews on something else.
"Oh hey! I was wondering where you two where."
The rest of the evening is spent sharing stories of how life used to be, before you all fall asleep right there around the fire, and the stars shine down on the three of you throughout the night.
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