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slxsherwriter · 8 months ago

Text

You and I May Never Get This Right

Fandom: Lake Placid

Pairing: Jim Bickerman x reader

Word count: 4,479

Warning: Hospitalization, mention of serious injuries (loss of limbs), ptsd, panic attacks, age gap relationships,

Author's Note: Don't hate me for how I ended this. There may be more in the future. As always, not beta read. Mistakes are mine. Likes are always appreciated, but reblogs and comments are cherished and feed the brain.

Tagging: @slashingdisneypasta & @tinalbion

The ringing of the phone interrupted the quiet peace. The sound was wholly unexpected and caused you to jolt. The mindless haze that you had fallen in going through the familiar motions of fishing. After the hellish week that you had at work, a trip out into the woods for a few days on your own consisting of fishing and camping had been just what you needed. You had thought for sure that you wouldn't have service out here but apparently, that had been a mistake.

There was an instance where you debated ignoring it entirely. If it was your place of employment, you might just throw the phone into the pond. Despite how much it would cost to replace. Something in your gut told you that you had to pick it up. Groaning, you pushed up from your chair, carefully setting aside your fishing pole so it didn't end up in the water if something did bite in the absence, and moved back towards your camp and your tent.

Rummaging around, it had stopped ringing only to start up again. Whoever was calling clearly needed to speak with you. Finally, you freed the object from the bag but didn't recognize the number at all. No business was coming up.

“Hello?” Whoever was on the other end of the line sounded professional. One of those scripted sorts of voices. They wanted to confirm that you were you before saying anything else. Frowning, you did as asked and confirmed who you were before more information came. It was a hospital calling about James Bickerman. There had been some sort of incident? Something about him being brought to the hospital in bad shape and there needing to be someone there that could make decisions. Your number was the only thing listed.

“Um, uh, yeah. Yeah. I gotta grab a flight. I can be there within the day, though, hopefully no more than a few hours, but I don't know when I'll be able to get a flight out. Did you need me to do anything before that? I will have my phone on me the entire time.” They asked about blood transfusions and life-saving measures such as intubation and CPR. Jesus Christ, what the hell had Jim managed to get into?

Jim Bickerman was a name that you hadn't heard in several long years. He had been your older brother's best friend. You had been the accident, with your brother close to twenty-five years older than you. The two were as thick as thieves, always getting into trouble and mischief. By the time that you were a teenager, you were sucked into that sort of trouble. With a smaller stature, you could slip into places that they couldn't. An innocent face that most people believed when you lied for them. A look out that could actually be trusted to do the job. You fit all those sort of roles for them. Of course, it was cliche, but you had a crush on the man. Not that you had expected anything to come to fruition in regards to it, keeping the fact to yourself the best that you could. A drunken night in your mid twenties resulted in a closeness that had developed further into what could have been considered a relationship. Was your brother thrilled with it? He went back and forth. He liked the fact that he knew the man that you were with, but at the same time, he was a bit freaked out and disturbed that it was his best friend.

Things had been really good for quite a while. There were a few bumps in the road in terms of getting in trouble with the law, but nothing that major or that you couldn't get over. After all, while you were in constant mischief and trouble, it wasn't the major sort that would see any of you going away to prison for any sort of extended time. All the local bars and police officers knew you all by first name.

Life had a way of happening, though. While you had all come from relatively nothing, being poor and scraping and scrapping in order to get by, Jim had this sort of intense and overwhelming drive for money. Enough so that it started to cause the two of you to clash every now and then. The passing of your mother and then followed by your brother in seemingly rapid succession had seemed to be the final nail in the coffin. You had to get out of Maine, get away from the mess that had taken over your life. The fact hadn't been taken well by Jim, who refused to leave. He was supposed to be getting the cabin that he had grown up in. The cabin was something that he was not willing to give up on. Things had quickly devolved from there for you both, to the point that it made it easy to walk away. Well, easier than it had been at first. Even if you had hoped something more would have come from the man. It had hurt and had been hard, even if his behavior made the decision more justified. He has tried to get you to stay but the cabin had been more important.

That had been close to ten years ago. A part of your life that you had left in the past. A fresh start had done wonders for you. Trouble with the law had vanished from your life. You had gotten a stable job, one that you didn't exactly enjoy, but it paid the bills well enough and allowed you the ability to have weekends to yourself. That allowed plenty of fishing and camping trips, with the occasional interruption.

Now, that peace had been thoroughly shattered. You had never expected for Jim to still have your name down as an emergency contact. That heavy feeling that had invaded your chest during that first call remained, growing worse the longer things went on. A few more phone calls came from the doctors. Assurance that he was alive, but it seemed like he needed multiple surgeries, and they had to start to be able to save what they could.

When the plane landed, you felt fully sick to your stomach. Renting a car felt like it took far too long. The familiar paths hadn't changed all that much since you had been awhile. Land a little more developed here and there, but that was barely acknowledged. Arriving at the hospital, your only thought was laying eyes on Jim. The picture that had been painted had not been pretty, and there was only so much that could be done to brace yourself for it. Sitting behind the wheel, finally parked at the hospital, your hands shook, and it felt like you couldn't breathe. Could you do this again? Was it going to be a repeat of your brother all over? Sweat trickled down your neck, and your vision blurred for a moment. Fumbling for the handle of the door, you managed to throw it open, leaning out and gasping. Thankfully, no one was around to see the near breakdown.

It took several long minutes for you to be able to calm down and regain control of your breathing so it didn't seem like you had run here instead of drove. Ending up in a bed next to Jim wouldn't do any good for either of you. Counting each breath, inhaling for a few seconds, holding, and then exhaling for the same amount of time.

Feeling just slightly more put together, you headed inside. The lady at the desk was hardly helpful, but the security guard was someone that you recognized. A man that you had gone to school with, and he was kind enough to lead you to the right floor, where the doctors had taken over from there. Now that you were there in person, you were able to get far more information than what they had provided over the phone. The accident? A crocodile attack. Jim had lost his left arm and his left leg. There had been internal bleeding that had been difficult to stop, a laceration to his liver the cause. His left eye had been damaged to the point that it had to be removed, a rock having lodged into the orbital socket as a result of the attack.

He had just gotten out of surgery by the time that you had managed to get through. They didn't expect him to wake for several hours, if that. With the blood loss, trauma, and surgery, he was alive, but that didn't guarantee anything. While you weren't prepared to go to the room, there was little choice in the matter. No one would make you, but you were there and had to go see him.

The sight of the man in the bed caused your knees to go weak. The nurse that had brought you to the room attempted to soothe you by placing a hand on your back.

“It's okay.” No. No, it wasn't. The body in the bed was almost unrecognizable. Pale, bandaged, and hooked up to a load of machines. Hell, his face looked a little sunken in even. He hardly looked like the Jim you knew. Even if that Jim was several years younger than the Jim in the bed. Crossing your arms to give your fingers something to grasp, you moved forward and took a seat in the chair beside the bed.

“Thank you.” A brief utterance to the nurse. The only other noise in the room was the beat of the heart rate monitor and the hiss of the supplemental oxygen that they had him on. Closing your eyes, you tried to ignore the rush of blood in your ears, trying to grasp onto the machine generated beep. Steady. It wasn't too fast or too slow. It helped give you something to focus on and bring yourself down. If you weren't so worried at the moment, you would have been cursing up a storm and yelling at him. Unconsciously or not. They said that people in comas and such could hear what was being said to them after all. For now, though, all you could do was sit there and let the worry eat you alive. The steady rise and fall of his chest, on his own without mechanical intervention, wasn't enough to ease it.

*****************

At some point, you must have nodded off, sleep pulling you under without warning. You remembered staring off out the window while hoping Jim would wake up. The next thing you knew, you were cracking your eyes open against the bright light of the morning and a nurse standing over the bed, doing a vitals check.

“The least ya can do for an old man is get him a drink.” His voice was rough, but there was no mistaking it for anyone else. He was alive and awake.

“The last thing you need right now is a drink, you old bastard,” you replied before the nurse could, standing up out of the seat and shifting to the edge of the bed. Jim's eye wandered the room for a moment before finally settling on you. It took a second for the light of recognition to appear, and somehow, he managed a smile.

“Well, hey there, dumpling.” You couldn't help the roll of your eyes at the pet name. But right then, there would be no calling him out on it. “What are you doing here?” It was actually a viable question. His faculties, what little he started with, seemed to be intact. Which was a good sign. A low sigh escaped from you, and his brow furrowed.

“Apparently, I'm still listed as your emergency contact. And since you went off on some suicide mission, I got the call.” A pause. Swallow. Stay composed. Don't let him know how deeply affected you were by this. “And as much as I wanted to stay fishing, I couldn't let your dumb ass die.” Something indescribable passed over his face. Nothing that you could place. All before that familiar smirk had appeared once more.

“Maybe I should get myself chewed on a little more often if it's gonna be bringing you around.” The nurse excused herself, giving you two a little time. Even if you tried desperately to keep her presence in the room for the sake of your sanity. Being alone with the man and this out of control of your emotions was not a good combination.

“You're an absolute ass. I see that a near death experience hasn't changed that.”

“Aww, come on. Ya gotta be nice to me, dumpling. I'm a cripple now.” The tease about his condition fell just a little flat. At least he seemed to be taking it in stride. You weren't sure you would be able to manage even snark if you were lying in bed like that. The comment managed to bring a smile, one that you hadn't thought would come. Maybe it was tinged with relief that he was himself and that familiarity felt good under the circumstances. You hadn't had this chance with your brother.

“Cripple or not, you're still a grumpy bastard.” He has the audacity to wink playfully or make the attempt, and there was no stifling the small laugh that just broadened his own smile. Jim would always be Jim. And as much as you had tried to put it all behind you, you had missed the man. His hand had found yours in those quiet seconds and gave it a small squeeze. Not begrudging him the comfort, if that was what he needed, you returned the gesture and kept your fingers laced with his.

“Maybe so, but it never bothered ya before. If anything, think it's what attracted ya in the first place.” Pulling your chair closer, you shook your head. Might as well get settled in since it was going to be a bit before you got out of here. You couldn't bring yourself to be annoyed about the fact either. He was alive and the relief that came with that fact was near overwhelming.

*****************

“For fuck sakes….” The phrase might as well have been tattooed on you somewhere with how often it was uttered up into the air. As if some twisted prayer. A desperate cry for strength to tolerate the horrible patient that was before you.

“Ah, just in time. Come on over here and help me with this, sweetheart.”

“Jim….” You paused and took a slow breath. How the nurses hadn't entirely lost it on him was beyond comprehension. Or maybe they were just drawing straws on rotation to see who was dealing with him next. “Get your ass back in bed! You aren't going anywhere.”

“Aww, come on. You don't have to be like that. We’re just going on a short walk.” He used we, as in plural, including you in whatever plan he had in mind. “Can't stare at these walls anymore. And like hell I'm being pushed around in that chair.” The words stirred up a sense of sympathy. He couldn't be blamed for going stir crazy stuck in the room for three weeks now while healing and starting rehab. His prosthetics had been in early in the week, and while he was still learning to walk with the new leg, he wasn't keen on waiting before pushing himself, it seemed.

Jim was hopping on his one leg, trying to get the pants that you had brought him in a change of clothes at the beginning of the week, settled on his waist.

“I know you are going stir crazy. Hell, I am at this point just visiting you, and I get to leave. But you can't be pushing yourself too much, or you are just going to be stuck here longer than necessary. Such a thing as setting back your own recovery.”

“Sweetheart, I'm fixing to jump out that window if I don't get out of this room for something other than rehab. So, you can help me or head out so you don't get in trouble.” Groaning, you glanced towards the ceiling, counting back from ten before moving forward to help him finish getting dressed. The closeness allowed him to get a few cheeky touches in, all under the guise of keeping his balance and such. You knew better but were unbothered by it. Being here had brought all those feelings right back to the surface and damn it if you still didn't love the man.

“Since you can't be trusted to keep yourself in one piece or not to do something foolish, guess I'm stuck helping you. See, this is how I ended up in trouble when we were younger. All your damn fault.” He laughed.

“Way I remember it you were all too eager to help.” How could this man still make you feel like a teenager with a silly crush.

“Young, impressionable, and dumb. That's what I'm calling it.” You gave him a little push to get him back on the bed, causing him to chuckle, all before helping him make sure the prosthetic was in place. Him hopping around would attract too much attention. You winced at the still raw looking around. The surgeons had done a fantastic job. “You sure? This still looks like it's not gonna feel great, Jim.”

“Oh, I'm more than sure.” You nodded and got him settled. He kept an arm around your shoulders, both as an excuse to hold you and an extra support as he moved along.

“Come on then, let's get you moving a bit. We are only going for a short walk, okay? Then it's back in bed.”

“Yes, ma'am.” He laughed, and you rolled your eyes but smiled nonetheless. Glancing out into the hall, none of the nurses seemed to be paying attention. A few tentative steps were taken before you both realized no one was going to stop you. “You uh, you didn't bring anything to drink this time, didcha?” The man was impossible. But, he had broken you down with the requests.

“Just keep walking for a bit here, okay.”

“Ya did. Knew I could count on you.”

“As if that would ever change?” The comment slipped before you could think about it. Out in the open now, and he would take it as he pleased. Getting into the elevator, you hit the button to lead you down to the cafeteria. There was a coffee shop close to it where you could at least get a decent dose of caffeine. He could mix his alcohol with it to hide it from the nurses. The minimal amount that you had gotten in.

“Easy there, buttercup. Give me a second.” The strain to the words told you that he was hurting more than he let on, and you instantly pulled to a stop, allowing him to lean against the wall and gain his breath back.

“Better than I thought we would do, actually. Let's get you to the chairs up there, and I'll get us some coffee.” He nodded, giving it another minute before pushing himself off of the wall and bracing himself further against you. It was no more than twenty feet. Once he was settled into the chair, you moved off to get the promised coffee.

Since you couldn't juggle both coffees and get the alcohol into his, you had to settle for carrying both of them back and plopping down into the seat beside him.

“Here, hold mine for a second…” You passed him the cup that you knew for a fact was yours before reaching into the pocket of your jacket and pulling out a small flask. One that Jim had actually gifted you, though that wasn't anywhere near the forefront of your mind.

“That the one I got you for your twenty-first?” The question didn't register at first as you poured a little bit of the liquor into the cup before a hum came from him, attempting to catch your attention.

“I'm sorry, what?” You looked up as you finished, putting the cap back on the small flask and taking your coffee back, holding his out to him. He repeated the question, causing you to blink for a second and look down at the pocket that you had safely tucked the flask in. “Uh, yeah, yeah, it is.” A sound came from him, something that you couldn’t entirely identify and didn't really want to right then as he decided to take a sip of his drink instead.

Once the cups were empty and the coffee was finished, you had felt that he had been out of his room long enough. The nurses were going to ream you for having him out this long, but it had helped him and would hopefully keep him feeling a little less ornery for the next day or so.

“All right, let's get you back to your room.” The walk was a little slower, with him feeling the effects of the walk on his still healing body. It was wholly unsurprising if anyone were to ask your opinion. Getting him back to bed, he was wincing and unable to hide it. It made you feel just a bit bad, though you knew that he would say it was worth it.

“Thanks, sweetheart,” he murmured softly, so softly that you almost missed it. His eyes were closed as he reclined back in the bed, clearly spent from the small outing. Smiling to yourself, you settled down in the chair, deciding to spend the rest of the afternoon with the man, even if he slept through it.

***************************************

“Ya know….” Jim was drawing out his words, which meant that he was waiting for you to turn your attention in his direction. Some things never changed. You finally turned to look at him after stuffing the last shirt into the bag. “You don't have to leave.” He was leaning against the doorframe, not quite looking at you. This had the beginnings of a conversation that you really didn't want to have. It hadn't gone well for you before.

“I've used up all my time off. And then some. I have to get back before I don't have a job to go back to. You're home, Jim. Able to be independent. You are back on your feet and don't need me around anymore.” You almost said that you didn't have a reason to stay. Because technically, it was true. You didn't have a reason to stay. Your feelings weren't enough. At least, that was what you kept telling yourself in hopes of making this entire thing easier. It hadn't really worked. That ache that had happened when you had left the first time all those years ago was just as strong now as it had been then. It made the most sense to leave. Just as it had back then. You had a nice little life set up for yourself. Being here? Well, it would be a hard decision.

“You don’t have to go. You're back here. It’s where you should be.” He was going to make this difficult. Apparently, time did not heal all wounds. He was standing in the doorway and refusing to move out of the way. Maybe this whole incident had given him a slightly new perspective on life. “I know you don't want to go back either. So, why are you going to do what you don't want to do? Not like you had ever done something you didn't want to do before, Why with this?” There wasn’t a good answer there. Because everything felt far too convoluted and messy. There were reasons to stay and reasons to leave. His gaze had finally turned to you and felt heavy, practically pinning you in your place.

“Because it is not a smart idea, Jim. Staying around. It's better for me to leave.”

“That's bullshit. You can't bullshit a bullshitter, dumpling.” Yeah, that was hard to argue with.

“Jim, please can we not…” He huffed, though he had clearly decided that he wasn't going to let go of this issue. If there was one thing that Jim Bickerman could be called without a doubt, it was stubborn.

“You coulda left my old ass to die. But you didn't. You still came out and stayed. You coulda made those decisions and left.” He was right. Why did he have to be right? It made any argument that you made to leave that much more difficult. Slowly, his lips turned upwards slightly, as if he knew he had won this part of the argument. You sighed and rubbed your eyes.

“What do you want me to say?” He had worked around every single phrase besides I want you to stay the first time that you had left. It was his turn to show his frustrations over the entire thing. His hand and hook waved in the air for a moment, though the words didn't come.

“I want you to say that I'm right and that you want to stay.” He wasn't going to let this go. Could you say that you didn't want to? Could you say that you wanted to? The words were stuck in your throat. Why did he have to make this so damn difficult? The treacherous voice in the back of your mind whispered that it wasn't him that was making it difficult. He had tried the first time around, maybe not as hard as you had hoped somewhere deep within, but he had certainly tried. This was him trying again. Maybe you had foolishly hoped he had moved on, that things had changed. Yet, it was the same scenario all over again. Except, it felt more serious than it had last time.

Looking at him should have reminded you why you decided it was better to distance yourself. He made stupid decisions in chasing after money and whatever big payday that he thought was next. But Jim was loyal and underneath it all there was some part of him that was good-hearted. Even if it took a few layers to get through. Others often didn't get to see it.

You weren't able to get a response out, apparently taking too long for his liking. Because the next thing you knew, he was stepping forward, invading your space like he used to do all those years ago. Guess the old man wasn't feeling all that old at that moment. No words came. Instead, he hooked a hand around the back of your neck and pulled you into a kiss. One last desperate attempt to get you to agree to stay.

“Say you want to stay.” The words came out far softer this time, almost a plea. Almost.

“Jim…” You forced yourself to meet his gaze, decision made.

#horror writing #villain writing #villain x reader #creature feature writing #jim bickerman #Jim Bickerman x reader #lake placid #lake placid fic #robert englund characters

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slxsherwriter · 8 months ago

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Make Bad Decisions With Me

Fandom: Lake Placid

Pairings: None. Hinted at potential Jim Bickerman x Reader

Word Count: 5,248

Warnings: Injuries, death, blood, animal death, crocodiles, poaching

Author's Note: Apparently, I've been possessed by the muse, and this man's characters are just letting it all flow. If wanted, there could be a follow-up to this. I liked the way it ended up even if it's longer than expected. Tagging: @slashingdisneypasta Hope this one is just as good as the last one.

A warm shower. Scratch that. Scalding. A scalding shower was the only thing that you wanted out of life right now. Wash away the dirt, the blood, the guilt that pierce you in the gut over the lives that had been lost. How the hell did you get here?

*****

Dennis was an old colleague of yours, and when he had asked for help up in Maine on his study of the giant crocodiles of Black Lake, you agreed with some trepidation. There was a difference between doing work with dangerous animals and doing work with things that might as well have been prehistoric creatures. Experiences with crocodiles and alligators in your past could not have prepared you for seeing the massive, monstrous reptiles that resided in the lake.

What he had failed to tell you were the regulations and background checks and restrictions to be able to even get on site. The offense wasn't the most serious. It was more of an annoyance than anything else. Something that you would have dealt with as you collected the samples. Five foot? Not all that unusual. Manageable when it came to a croc. Hell, you were used to handling snakes now that were far larger. The EPA and police escort? Not the most common place but not exactly something brand new. All things that you could work around in an effort to help him out and give an idea of what these crocodiles actually were, if they were truly crocodiles or another species that was somehow an offshoot. Nothing occurred that you couldn't handle. Right up to the point of the twenty foot giant chased you all as you headed out. Now, that? That really got the heart rate going.

It was what happened after that threw you for a loop. You understood the need for additional samples and data. It was a commonplace problem that most researchers faced at one point or another at least once in their careers. Hiring poachers in exchange to collect that needed data and sneaking into a secured government site? That was not something that you could say you had ever come up against.

Yet, you had agreed to it. Even after being in there during the day and seeing what the crocs could do. Not without giving Dennis a dressing down over it all and dragging you into it. Because while you had agreed, even if you hadn't, it would have been too late to get yourself out of it. And, well, you didn't want to see him dead. Dennis was a good man.

The group of men that Dennis had hired looked pretty much as anticipated and expected. Maybe a little stereotypical, but if they could hold their own and were decent shots, then so be it. Hopefully, they were decent shots.

“I have the code to get in the gate. There shouldn't be any workers around the fence by now, so we should be in the clear.” Too many shoulds to instill a great sense of confidence. The men were arming themselves, and you waited for a rifle of your own. As much as you didn't want to kill an endangered and protected species, you weren't about to walk in there just armed with tranquilizers. There wasn't enough sedation in the world that could be jammed into these to stop a twenty foot croc. Not that a handgun would do the job either, but it would at least slow it down or cause it to second guess an attack if you could manage to hit the mark.

“Before we head in, what's the plan exactly here?” You spoke up, having joined in late, after everything had been sorted out. The men with you and Dennis were after the animals and animal parts while you and Dennis had the idea to collect data. One of the men shoved a gun in your hand without a word. Taking the rifle, you quickly shifted to shoulder it and check out the scope. Getting a feel for the sight was important if you wanted to actually be able to hit whatever you were aiming at.

“We aren't taking any more crocodiles. But we need eggs. And they are going to take what they want.” Multiple felonies. Good. That was great. The rifle dropped, and you let out a small sigh. Nothing about this was a good idea, but the turn back point had long passed you by.

“You aim that at something, you best be willing to shoot it.” Your eyes shot to the older man who seemed to be leading the group of poachers. A hat pulled low over his head and his rifle against his shoulder. He seemed fully relaxed. Far too relaxed for what was about to happen. Confidently, you chambered a bullet without looking. The safety was still on, but you didn't bother pointing it at any of them like there was an urge to do. There was no need for any accidents before you even got in there. Though it would have been amusing to see rheir reactions.

“If I'm aiming this at anything, I'm intending to kill it.” A wide smile appeared on his face at the comment before he was laughing.

“Well, shit. Don't think I've met a tree hugger like you before.” You rolled your eyes, deciding not to comment.

“Let's get this done.” The sooner you could get in there, the sooner you got out and were able to head back home. Rid your mind of all of this and try to get back to normal.

Getting in the gate had been far too easy. The lack of security was astounding. Maybe that was because they didn't expect anyone to be stupid enough to break into the site. It was meant to contain. Though with people like Jim, the older man's name was Jim, and his ragtag band of money hungry hunters, it really should have been a consideration.

Apparently, there was a cabin on the property that was going to be a rendezvous point after the group split a little bit later. You didn't know the land all that well, but Dennis had a decent idea, having worked here longer. For now, the group was sticking together. As you reached the edge of the water, the hair on the back of your neck stood. Immediately, you paid attention to the feeling and lifted your rifle. The men followed shortly after as you inched forward.

Jim called out to the thing like it was a damn cat. Both one of the most ridiculous and hysterical moments that you had ever bore witness to, admittedly. But, the thought was wiped away when a hissing sound came from your right. The crocodile that came crawling through the rocks had to be close to ten feet. The men all shot off rounds. A few hit but not enough to kill it before you squeezed the trigger and quickly fired off two rounds into the skull of the animal. That was abysmal and destroyed any sense of confidence that you had in any of them to actually make it through this. Or yourself for that matter if this was who you were with. At least Theresa and Reba had been good shots. Really damn good shots.

You stepped back and glanced at the men who were all looking at you, slightly wide-eyed. Yep, they definitely needed to get out more.

“Did you want anything from that, or are we leaving it for the other crocs?” It took a second for a response, but one stepped forward and began to harvest whatever was wanted from the animal. Guilt curled, but you pushed it back. Survival from this place meant this, and you had to be complicit.

“Gotta say, that's some impressive aiming, sweetheart.” You turned your attention from the sight before you to Jim. The smile held a hint of sleaze, not something that surprised you after spending three hours with the man.

“Just because I'm a scientist doesn't mean I don't have other skills….”

“Maybe you would like to show me some of those other skills.” That went from zero to sixty real fast. While there was a certain charm, if that was the word to actually use, about the man, there wasn't a chance that you were going to entertain such comments. Even more so because of the other men in the group. No need to be fighting them all off.

“You aren't even lucky enough for me to entertain that in your dreams.” His eyes seemingly brightened at the snap back. As if it was an invitation itself. You could have groaned.

“Oh, I don't have a doubt. I'll be dreaming about you.” Without a comeback ready, you simply opted to roll your eyes and walk off. Seems that he could get the best of you on occasion. That was twice now.

“I say we set up camp and then start on what we need to do.” That wasn't a bad idea. Though the one that had you rest on ground level with these crocodiles around wasn't all that comforting.

“We should start moving. Made a lot of noise there.”

***

Setting up camp proved to be a fairly quiet and mundane activity. As if you were all really out here just camping and hunting. Funny how going through the motions was like that. Dennis wanted to break off into your groups so that you could accomplish what he needed done. Making sure your backpack was ready, you grabbed some extra ammo when the men weren't looking. They had brought plenty. Though, with the way that they had shot, maybe not. Frankly, either way, if it was just you and Dennis, you weren't going out there without extra protection.

The day went fairly smoothly from there. No more run-ins with the crocs and a rather peaceful existence between you and the rest of the group. With camp set up, you were all led towards the older Bickerman cabin to know where it was since it was the decided meet point for when you split up. Jim and Dennis stayed behind for something as the rest of you made your way back to camp. That was not something that you were going to touch with a ten foot pole. Already, you were neck deep in this shit. The less you knew about whatever was going on between them. Some deniability would be nice.

Nighttime came, and straws were pulled to figure out a guard duty rotation. All of you sleeping at once was not the smartest of ideas unless you wanted to end up in a croc's belly. You had drawn the first shift, which was fine by you. You weren't entirely sure that you were going to sleep at all, trust lacking in everyone around you.

The fire crackled and kept any sounds from making you too paranoid as you settled down in the seat, rifle resting in your lap. The quiet of the area around you was settling and familiar, even if the threats out there were not. It gave you time by yourself to think through everything that was happening and where it was going to ultimately land you if you got caught. Not in a regretful sort of way but in that way of preparation so you wouldn't be thrown off or blindsided.

It was only about three hours before you were relieved of your duties. Sleep didn't come easily, and when it did, it was interrupted and not all that restful. You maybe got two good hours by the time the sun rose. Up and moving around, you grabbed your bag and tossed it over your shoulder, ready to get moving and get this all over with.

“We'll meet at the Bickerman cabin as planned.” Dennis agreed. “Try not to let yourself become a snack for the crocs kids.”

“Yeah, yeah. We'll see you there tomorrow.”

“Don't try to miss me too much, darling.”

“Dennis, let's go before I end up shooting an old man….” Dennis actually laughed at that and motioned for you to follow.

“Aww, no need to get that violent, darling.” His laugh followed the both of you out of camp.

“This was a really god damn stupid idea.” Dennis sighed.

“I know. I'm sorry I drug you into this. I just knew they wouldn't let me back in to get what I needed.”

“For good reason here, Dennis.” You rubbed your eyes. The sound of a branch breaking caught your attention, and simultaneously, you both raised your guns in the direction it came from. Nothing stood out or moved. You checked behind you just in case, trying to make sure that nothing snuck up on you. When no crocs appeared, there was a matching sigh of relief before you could continue onward. “It's dangerous. And I'm sure some liability with the town and the government. You know how they feel about that. Not to mention, the risk of death for the sake of research isn't worth it to the Sheriff's Department nor the EPA. They have other things that they could allow their officers to work on.”

“You're right.” He glanced back towards you as you worked your way down closer to the water. The search for a nest had begun. If you had guessed how badly things were going to hell from there, you would have hightailed it back to the fence.

It happened fast, far faster than you would have expected it. You were barely able to get out of the way of the crocodile that came lashing out of the water, while Denni wasn't so lucky. Thrown back, you came crashing down hard on the rocks, sending a jagged stone deep into your forearm. Dennis was struggling with the croc, and from the screams, he was not doing well.

“Fuck!” Doing your best to ignore your own pain, you scrambled to your feet and fired off a round. It missed and with the tingling in your left arm, it was hard to keep the injured arm lifted and aiming the rifle properly. The fumbling few seconds was long enough for Dennis to lose a few fingers. The second shot hit true and at least got the croc to back off into the water for now. “Shit…” Adrenaline kept you moving, quickly swinging your pack off of your back. You had to get his wounds bandaged before he potentially lost too much blood.

“Oh, god…”

“Dennis, look at me.” He was focused on his hand, the right missing all but his thumb and index finger now. “Stop and look at me. It's going to be okay.” The numbness and tingling were extending down to your fingers now. Something was damaged, and it wasn't good, but you could deal with your own wound after his had been bandaged, at least. You would need to use the tourniquet for his arm. It wasn't going to feel good, and as much as you attempted to relay that to him, he was too caught up in the moment.

You worked as quickly as you could, thankful for that class that you had taken all those years ago when you first started going into the field. He had passed out at some point, and you couldn't tell if it had been from the sight of his own blood or the shock and blood loss. It hadn't seemed like enough, but what did you know? There wasn't a chance that you would be able to carry him, and leaving him sounded like a horrific idea, but you weren’t sure what else you could do.

“Shit, shit, shit.” You groaned and worked the best that you could to wrap your own arm. Waiting here didn't seem like the smartest idea. Leaving him made you feel sick, but the best chance of getting help was moving. You agnozied over the decision for a few minutes, moving back from the water so that you were ready for another potential attack.

Ultimately, the best chance for survival for the both of you would be to get help. Hopefully, he would wake up soon and be able to get himself moved more. You had dragged him back the best that you could.

Picking your way through the woods towards where you had found the cabin yesterday took a little work and some second guessing of the direction, but luck seemed to be on your side. The clearing came into view, as did the dilapidated cabin.

“Thank god…” You murmured to yourself. Bodies were moving around, you could see that much. There wasn't mistaking Jim as he came into view.

“Dennis?” He called out before his eyes landed on you. it didn't take him any time to recognize the fact that you were alone. “What the hell happened?”

“Could ask you the same thing.” You had noticed the limp and the blood on his lower pant leg. It looked old and dried though.

“Shit, you're bleeding.” Glancing down, it was easy to see that he was right; blood was dripping off of your fingers, but you couldn't quite feel it.

“Not the easiest to wrap it myself.”

“Sit down.” He motioned towards the edge of the platform that had been built around the cabin. “Ya got any more bandage left?”

“Think a little.” Carefully, you shrugged off the bag, trying not to grimace as the motion brought about a lot of pain, fire burning in your upper arm. “Big pocket.”

“Where's Dennis?” Jim didn't bother asking and used a knife to tear the rest of your sleeve off of your shirt to get better access to the wound.

“He was worse off than I was and passed out. Couldn't carry his dead weight, so I had to leave him, figuring it was better to find help than wait for it to find us.” Not that you thought he would come looking for you at all. Finding help had really been Bickerman and his group first and getting to the fence second.

“Ah, shit.”

“Seems to be the theme of the day,” you offered, trying to use the conversation as a distraction from the pain as he used some of the bandage that you had already placed and the remaining that you had in the bag to properly wrap up the wound on your arm the best that he could. “Where are the rest of your guys?” He simply shook his head. No words were needed for that. Blowing out a slow breath, you felt like crying, but that wouldn't do any good right now. A breakdown could come after. So, instead, you bit down hard on the inside of your cheek and looked out towards the water.

“I'm going to look for eggs.” It shouldn't have been a surprise that he was still focused on getting something out of this. Money seemed to be his biggest driving force.

“Fuck that. I wanna get the fuck away from this lake.” He shook his head.

“I ain't letting this be a waste of a trip. That out there is a damn jackpot, big payday that I’m not walking away from.”

“Wouldn't expect you to.” It wasn't mean spirited when you spoke. It was simply one of those "of course" sort of statements. He blinked, eyeing you almost as if he was trying to make the determination if he was offended or not. “Just go on.” A quick wave indicated that he should get moving. Dennis was waiting for you to come back, and the sooner he got what he wanted, the sooner you would be able to go back for your fallen friend. He nodded, grabbing his own bag and headed off.

Sitting there in relative peace, something that couldn’t be trusted to remain, you felt the weight of everything come crashing down on you. It was a bad thing to be sitting there in the quiet. Your hand was shaky, something that was impossible not to notice, as you raised it to run it through your hair and then down your face.

Before much more thought could be given to it, there was a lot of shouting. Far too many voices or it to be Jim. Jumping to your feet, you quickly made your way towards the front of the cabin to see a group of four teens running towards the dock. Their shouting was mingling with that of the group of people coming from the dock. You immediately recognized the three adults. Ryan, Reba, and Theresa. You weren't sure that you had ever felt any sort of relief close to what coursed through you at that moment. There was a chance of getting out of here.

The loud hissing roar came, signaling that another crocodile was going to make itself known. Quickly, you raised your gun and fired at the beast that came flying out of the water at the same time as Reba did. As difficult as it was with the barely functioning arm. At least you could lift it and have it act as a bit of a brace for the rifle.

You joined the group.

“I would ask what the hell you are doing here, but I'm going to guess you came back with Dennis.” Reba glanced towards you.

“Might have been the worst decision of my life.”

“Wouldn't argue with that.” Theresa was hugging what you assumed was her daughter while one of the other girls seemed injured, chomped on by a crocodile given the blood coming from her abdomen. How she was standing was beyond you, but adrenaline was a wonderful thing.

“I just want to get the hell out of here and never see another crocodile again.”

“You and me both.”

“We'll find a way out.” One of the boys that was with Ryan turned and spotted Jim.

“Did you find Dennis?” Now that was odd. Had he said he had been looking for Dennis? You hadn't seen him with the teens when you had found him here.

“Dennis is dead.” The comment sent your stomach plummeting through your feet and bile rising in your throat.

“Who the hell is this?” Before you could offer any information, Theresa's daughter, Chloe, was speaking.

“He's a poacher. Jim Bickerman.” Well, she had that information correct. “I saw the picture of you with your mother. “Delores and Jimmy, 1960.” That was news to you. Though, it made sense then. Jim limped forward, rifle shoulders, but he still hadn't said a word. That was unusual, at least from what you had learned from him over the last day and a half.

“Oh, you're the nutbag cousin.” The comment from Reba brought a small snort from you before you could help it, too amused after everything. It sort of fit now, didn't it? Jim shot you a glare before responding.

“With all due respect, Miss Fish and Game, I'm the son of a bitch that saved these brats. Nutbag…” That comment had really irritated him. Though, you supposed if you were in his place, you would feel pretty irritated with it as well. “Is that what they're calling me back in town now?”

“No, that's what I'm calling you.” All right, maybe you liked Reba. She didn't take shit. First impressions weren’t always correct. Jim didn't seem to know how to take that right away. He didn't have a response. “Nathan Bickerman owned this cabin and before he skipped town, he told me that his cousin was suing him for it.” He probably hadn't been suing for sentimental reasons. You glanced at Jim and tried to determine where his mind was at but it was hard. Reba continued on, this time addressing Jim once more after she had explained what she knew.

“You’re not honestly pissed because you didn't inherit this shit house? Jimmy….can I call you Jimmy?” His shoulders relaxed, and lips twitched into a smile. You rolled your eyes, something that was commonplace it seemed when this man was around.

“Yeah…” The word was barely whispered, but the permission was there.

“Jimmy, the way I see it, not leaving you this place is about the nicest thing anyone could do for your crazy ass.” The hair on the back of your neck stood once more, and the hissing sound of the crocodile sounded out once more. You swung your gun towards the water, ignoring whatever else was going on once more.

“You tie that thing up?” Looking back, you realized that the crocodile was indeed chained to the dock. How the fuck did that happen?” Jim hesitated for a second.

“Um, Dennis did. I sorta helped.” Christ, this entire thing was going to sound utterly insane to an outsider. It sounded insane to you, and you had lived through it.

“Seriously?” He gave you a shrug, as if it hadn't been a big deal.

“Yeah, whatcha do that for?”

“Whatever, let's just get out of here.” Theresa was right. It really didn’t matter. What was done was done. There was nothing to do about it now, and considering that Dennis was dead, the reasoning behind it was rather moot. Getting out of there alive should be the focus of everyone here.

“You don’t want a full confession? Maybe you have changed.”

“It doesn't really matter much now, does it? It's done, and Dennis is dead. We should be getting out of here.” You still had your gun trained on it, but everyone suddenly did when the crocodile let out a roar and began to thrash around. The chain around its neck made a horrible sound as the movement tested the strength of the metal. But it wasn't able to get free just yet. Jim began to laugh, the first to lower his rifle. Old man really was crazy.

“Well, well, well. Now, that was some kind of fun, huh folks?” The tone of his voice had changed, like when he had been flirting with you. He was trying to get something. And as suspicious as it made you, you weren't comfortable moving your gun off of the bigger threat. “Listen, I’d love to just, huh, hang out here and chat with y'all but…Max!” He lunged forward and grabbed a hold of one of the teens. Was this really what we were doing? The muzzle of the rifle was settled just shy of Max's neck. Ryan immediately shifted forward but wasn't able to do anything about it right away. Now, with the gun trained on his son.

“You're coming with me.” Ryan demanded to have the boy let go, but you knew that Jim wasn't going to do that. “Excuse me, Daddy. I'm not going to get very far with just one wheel here. I need this tough guy to help me along the way.” Ryan drew his gun, but Jim promised that Max would be dead before he pulled the trigger. Finally, you forced yourself to turn your gun away from the crocodile, training it on Jim.

“You too, sweetheart? I'm hurt.”

“You want someone, take me. Not the kid.” Slowly, you inched forward, though not stepping close enough to appear a threat. Testing that line was something that you were not willing to do. Enough death had occurred because of stupid decisions that you had made. The kids needed to get out of here. The gun was carefully lowered before you set it down and held up your hands. Jim seemed intrigued for a moment. But he was still backpedaling. Max was trying to assure his dad that he was going to be fine. Just as you made one more attempt, the chain and the wood that it was attached to made the sort of sound that had you all turning your attention back to the massive crocodile that was letting it's displeasure at being chained known. Everyone was unloading their weapon onto and into it. It snapped off its anchor in the wood and snagged one of the boats that was just off shore. When everyone turned their attention back, Jim and Max were gone.

“I'll go after them. You get the other kids back to safety.” Though it seemed like panic was on their minds, one of the kids decided that he could outswim the croc, launching himself into the water like an idiot. “Get the hell out of the water, kid!” Max and Jim hadn't gotten that far away as you heard Max's voice shout out, asking the same damn thing.

Everything from there happened in a blur. Drew, the young man that had thrown himself into the water, ended up dead. Ryan knocked out Jim, got Max out of the water himself, and everyone was ready to move on.

“Are we really going to just leave him there?” You looked between Ryan, Theresa, and Reba. None of them seemed to have any issue with leaving Jim behind. As much as you wanted to leave, the idea of leaving the man to die didn't sit well. “There's been enough death hasn't there?” That seemed to catch their conscious, and Ryan groaned before turning around and heading back to where you had left the man. You would figure out how to get him out while Theresa and Reba got the kids back to the fence.

What you found when you arrived made you a little queasy. Jim was lying on the beach, bleeding severely. Son of a bitch. Quickly, you rushed forward. His left arm and left leg were mangled beyond recognition and something had happened to his left eye. You weren’t sure how that even happened.

“Can you get an evac out here?” You looked up at Ryan as you began to pull off your flannel, reaching for the knife that Jim had kept so that you could try and dress the wounds. The man was going to die of blood loss before you could get him out, likely, but guilt was going to make you try to get him out of there.

“It won't be quick enough.”

“I know he threatened your son, but we left him here.”

“Fine, fine. I’ll try. You're going to have to stay with him.”

“I got it. Just enough ammo to hopefully keep us safe. Go.” He nodded, giving you one more hard look and a chance to back out of it, but you were steadfast in your decision. Carefully, you pulled Jim as far away from the water as you could while Ryan took off running back in the direction of freedom.

“You're going to end up getting me killed, you crazy old bastard.”

“I knew you liked me…” He wheezed out with a laugh. If he kept talking, even if it was painful to listen to, it meant that he was alive. So you would take it.

“Yeah, I'll let you run with that right now because you look like utter shit.”

“Way to make a man feel good, sweetheart.” A small laugh left you, something you couldn't help as you settled his head in your lap, a small concession to try and offer some comfort. You just had to keep him conscious and talking until Ryan showed back up with an evac team.

#horror writing #creature feature writing #lake placid fic #lake placid #jim bickerman #jim bickerman x reader #robert englund characters

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