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the-drakeboys · 2 years ago

Text

Get Her Out

Summary: With the love of his life gutshot and falling weak, Sam will fight with his last breath to get her out alive.

Pairing: Sam Drake x Female OC (Unnamed)

Word Count: 2,342

Warnings: Violence, blood, gore, mentions of death.

A/N: Missed y’all so much. Hope you enjoy this lil’ blurb!

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“Told…you… this was my last job….” she whispered to him in the dark through a shaken, wry smile, propped up back against his chest. His fingers were curled around her middle, little streaks of dark red blood dripping over his skin where he held all the pressure he could to her gut. He pressed his face to the side of hers, squeezing his eyes closed. “But you were alw-ways too stubborn to listen.” She hummed as she struggled to breathe, her hair stuck to her damp forehead in long strands.

Sam felt a hot tear escape his eye, his teeth gritting as he held onto her. “Me? Stubborn?” he choked, his tone playful as his heart ached so loudly she could feel it in her own. “Not in a million years.”

There was a long, quiet pause, her trembling and shuddered breathing accompanied in the darkened stairwell by the distant drip-drop of a leaky water pipe.

“I better g-get to see the sunrise, though, b-buster,” she murmured, a frog in her throat. Her body slipping as her muscles began to give out.

He turned his head, lips pressing to her temple. “I promise… you will.”

Outside, an endless barrage of hellfire was raining from the sky. Bullets flying in every direction, men shouting orders at one another. Mercenaries out for blood against a rebellious people, protecting their land – and the treasure it held.

“Sweetheart…” he croaked, “We… we gotta try and move you.”

“No,” she shook her head, “I… I don’t think I c-can. Not yet.”

“We gotta try, darlin’.” He looked down at her, meeting her eyes and feeling the earth shatter inside him. “C’mon, you’re tough. Won’t even break a sweat.”

He shifted, and she cried out. Quiet wailing that would live in his veins for the rest of his life. The gaping bullet wound in her gut still flooded beneath his palm, and her vision blurring with the pain.

“C’mon, baby,” Sam whimpered, laying her down beneath him, “Please, god, it’s okay, you— oh, god.” Every cry out of her sent words tumbling from him. He pulled the dirty, sweat-soaked button-down from his back, balling it up. “You can do this, baby. No one tougher’n you.” He couldn’t tell if he was just giving her the push she needed, or flat-out begging her. The words were just coming.

She stared up at him. Her everything. The man she’d hated from the first day she met him; until she didn’t. Until the treasure didn’t matter anymore, until the gunfights and fistfights and running for their lives were just the backdrop to the most intense love she’d ever felt in her life. And now he was shaking in a way she’d never seen him do before. He was afraid in a way she’d never seen him feel before. As he tucked his balled-up shirt beneath hers and pressed it down against her wound, she sucked in air and held in a scream, knowing that if there were anyone else knelt over her now… she would have let go already.

“I got you, baby,” he promised, “You just hang onto me. I’m gettin’ you outta this.” His arms slipped around her body, and he lifted her into his chest. He was up on his feet. He stared down at her for one more moment. “We’re gettin’ you home.”

“I-I’m…I a-am…” she tried to speak, her fingers wringing weakly around his filthy white tank top, but the words were caught. Curled into him, focused - so focused - on breathing. Trying to fight.

“Don’t,” he pleaded, “Just save your energy, just… hang on, okay?” He leaned himself out of the wrecked doorway, rubble beneath his boot. The nearest guns were aimed away from them, utterly unaware that they were still alive.

He finally went for it. Hunched over her as he moved swiftly across what felt like a minefield, sounds bursting from every which way so loud that neither of them could concentrate if they tried.

But she was just holding on. Focusing on breathing. In… out. In… and then out. Slowly. Carefully. Against lungs that felt like fire.

Sam’s tattoos. Just up above her. Her bloodied fingers tracing them once more. His dirty, muddied hair, his stubble. Her mind carving the lines of his jaw and the warm timbre of his voice into her memory, the flecks of green in his eyes and the soft touch of his lips. All of it sealed away so she could never forget.

Sam weaved through ruins. Broken down buildings, smoke billowing from fires in every direction. Bullets pinging off of burnt out cars, grenades rolling into halls and bursting outward.

He stayed away from all of it, ducking behind walls and holding his breath as soldiers and mercenaries shouted and ran.

All he could think about was her. Her body in his arms, her face pressed into his skin, her breaths shallow and quick. Scared to feel them slow down. She was his everything. She was maddening and kind, she was smart enough to knock him on his ass with her words and strange enough to laugh at all of his jokes and loving enough to see the heart he had locked away inside himself, one no one had been allowed to touch since before he could remember. He gasped for air as he ran with her. He couldn’t lose her. He had to get her out.

“Stop!”

No.

Sam looked up. A mercenary, gun up, trained on him.

“S-Sam…” she whispered into his skin. “L-Let me go…”

“No!” he yelled, tears pushing to the edge. “No!”

“Drop the gun!”

Sam tightened his arms around her. Her fingers clutching to his tanktop, the blood pooling between them as she began to let go. “S-Sam…”

Sam looked down at her. “Please…” he whispered, dropping to his knees. His gun falling from his hand and landing in the dirt. “You gotta stay, sweetheart, you…”

He watched her eyelids flutter, the mercenary’s boots thudding in front of him and kicking the gun away.

The muzzle of the M4 pressed to his temple.

“Any last words?” the voice demanded.

Sam’s gaze didn’t shift. He let out a slow breath. Everything slowed down. Her eyes slipped closed. And he whispered, “I love you.”

“Hey, asshole–” a voice blurted from behind them.

The mercenary spun on his heels, a gasp flying from his throat.

“Kiss my ass!” Nate shouted. Bam. The mercenary’s body dropped to the ground, and Sam’s eyes finally opened, looking up to find his little brother hurdling over a barrier to get to him.

“I got your cover, big brother, c’mon,” Nate assured him, grabbing at his shoulder, “C’mon! We gotta go!”

Sam’s heart thumped painfully as his brain processed all that had just happened, “Let’s go!” he heard Nate shouting.

And so he got back up, and he followed Nathan. Followed him out. Numb and terrified all at once. Felt her in his hold, her arm hung at her side and swaying limply as he ran. His body exhausted but mind racing.

Nate burst through doors and shot down men, threw everything he had at them as he charged for the train.

And as his bullet reached the last man that stood in the way of getting them to safety, he looked back at his big brother and saw the fear. “We made it, Sam,” he breathed, “C’mon. We’re here.”

Two more were there. Chloe and Elena. Leaning out of the train as it started to chug along the tracks.

“C’mon, Sam…” Nathan’s eyebrows furrowed. Sam stood there, clinging to her. “Sam, we’ve got her. Let us help.”

Sam just looked at him, he didn’t know what to do. Elena stepped forward, and put a hand on his arm. “Sam, we’ve gotta move, okay? Let us take her.”

And Sam felt her pulled from his body. He felt Chloe help him up into the train car. He watched as Nate laid the love of his life down on the floor of the train car, and as Elena hurried forward with her supplies.

But all he knew was what he saw when he looked down.

The blood that painted his tanktop red. That’s all he knew.

Chloe watched as Sam collapsed. Fell to the metal floor, eyes closed and body covered in blood and dirt. She ran to him, too late to catch him.

All he could think as he drifted away was the beautiful face of the woman he loved.

—--

In the distance, words were spoken, almost out of focus in a way. Blurry conversations, muffled and busy.

Sam’s body ached from head to toe. He was slumped in the corner of a hospital room, a clean t-shirt thrown over his head. In the seat next to him sat a bottle of water and a pair of some sort of pills. He grimaced as he shifted himself upright, feeling all the wounds from the days previous stinging and burning. He reached up and rubbed his palms down over his face. He felt numb, eyes slowly traversing the width of the room and finding no one.

The two hospital beds in the room were empty. His gut sunk as he stared at them. One of them undisturbed, and the other with blankets that once held a person…and no longer did.

His chin began to quiver as he stared at the bed, the conversations outside the room still rumbling on.

He cleared his throat and looked down, shakily picking up the water and pills. With everything hurting, he didn’t really care what they were. The bottle next to them only had a label written in what he assumed was Tagalog, so there wasn’t any hope of finding out one way or the other.

He popped them into his mouth, and took a swig of the water, eyes closing with relief at the feeling of it rushing down his gullet.

“...but for the record, I told him. I told him Rafe was bad news. If he’d listened, that whole trip would’ve gone pretty differently–” Nate’s voice led him into the room, breaking Sam’s gratitude for the water and forcing him to turn.

Chloe stood there with Nate, a look of concern and pity etched into her features as her eyes landed on Sam.

“So… Sam, how’re you holding up?” She stepped forward, sitting next to him and taking in the empty look on his face.

“How long I been out?” he questioned with a hoarse voice.

Nate smiled with a sort of sadness, setting his hands on his hips. “Bout a day and a half. Tried to get you into the bed but you put up a fight. So the chair it was.”

Sam nodded, managing a small, dry chuckle. “You tellin’ me I sleepwalk?”

He looked up at his little brother. He had questions, but he didn’t want the answers. So the banter would continue.

“If that’s what you wanna call it.”

Chloe gently rubbed Sam’s back, looking between the two brothers and waiting for the right time to say something. He took one more long swig of the bottle, finishing it off.

“Can you walk?” she asked quietly.

Sam nodded, setting the now empty bottle off to the side. “Let’s go for a quick stroll then, shall we?” she murmured, standing up and offering her hand.

Nate glanced at her, a smile between them as Sam took her up on it. With his hand in hers, he pulled himself to his feet, wobbling at first.

The three left the room. Shuffled down a corridor, toward a door at the end of it.

Warm, golden rays of sun peered through the window in the door, Sam’s gut burning as he remembered his promise.

Remembered the look on her face when she asked for it.

Remembered how she–

“But what about Belize? That was a great one, right?” Elena’s voice cut right through his thoughts as Chloe led him through the door.

She stood at the edge of the balcony just on the other side, chatting happily away.

And that’s when Sam saw her. In the wheelchair beside Elena, a cast on her wrist and a hospital gown hung from her shoulders, all of her little cuts patched up, the dirt cleaned from her skin, and an IV connected to the back of her hand.

She turned to him. She saw the look on his face, the disbelief in his eyes, his whole body frozen in the doorway as he stared at her. She smiled warmly then, tilting her head to the side.

“Told you I’d get my sunrise, baby,” she smirked, carefully reaching her hand out to him.

“Oh…God,” he bumbled, falling forward into her and pressing kisses to her face, one after another, Elena, Chloe and Nate laughing in the background as he overwhelmed her with love. “How in the hell-” he was breathless, kneeling beside her and looking up into her eyes, “How… I… thank god, I… I–”

Warmth and gratitude flowed between the five of them, Sam getting up and turning to grab onto his brother. He thrust Nate into a tight hug, hanging onto him and mumbling “thank you, little brother” again and again.

“Hey, hello, hi–” Chloe waved her hands behind him, “Who do you think drove us in?”

“--and how about who patched you both up on the way to the hospital?” Elena chimed in, hands on her hips but a smug smile on her face.

Sam laughed his apologies out, pulling back from his brother and messily swiping at the tears rolling down his cheeks. He looked at the three of them, his hand reaching out to gently hold a hand he never thought he’d get to again. Her palm warm, fingers delicately lacing together with his. “Thank you. All of you. Really, I…”

“Oh, just shuddup,” the voice below him laughed. And she pulled him down to her with the little strength she had, a tired grin on her lips as they met his in a kiss.

The happiest kiss of his life.

—---

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