Post by Mick Devin on May 27, 2021 1:25:24 GMT
Mick stood there, staring down at Jeff’s face. Looking like he was sleeping rather then dead and growing cold on a table. He didn’t look up at Dax as he asked the question. “Back to the compound.” He instructed. They were done here. They needed to bury Jeff, and Mick needed to have a nice long drink and really think about what he was getting his people into. And yes, even if he acted like a prick and seemed like he didn’t care, they were his people. He’d hand-picked everyone, and he’d failed Jeff. He couldn’t, no wouldn’t- let that happen again.
He didn’t know how long he stood there staring down at his comrade. He knew the doctor was still there, he could idly hear her cleaning her tools. He didn’t look at her when she started to lecture him. He knew fully well that he couldn’t let this happen again, and that he’d fucked up. He didn’t need it repeated, but lecturing others on their mistakes made some people feel better, so he stood there and took it.
He considered it part of his punishment for what he’d done to Jeff and didn’t actually look up at her until she was poking him in the chest. His hand reaching up instinctively to snatch her wrist to stop the motion, as he fixed tear-filled, brown eyes on her that reflected the pain and remorse he felt. It might have been incredibly unfair to her, in dragging her out there with them when it was a losing chance, but Mick had needed to try for Jeff. The injury was far out of their leagues, they weren’t training medical professionals and Jo only knew the basics.
“I don’t plan on it.” Was his only response, before he let go of her wrist and moved to help with the plastic. In that moment he didn't plan on a lot of things repeating themselves. He couldn't afford repeats, and he wouldn't put the team through anymore of this sort of suffering. Jeff would be the first and last death of his team, and if there to be another death...It'd be his. For once he didn’t want to talk, or to poke buttons at someone. He wanted to get Jeff wrapped up and taken home. Even if the compound was merely a pretty display at home base. It was the only home any of them had.
He reached up and placed Jeffs arms across his chest. Folding them he’d seen in so many movies. He didn’t know how much time passed but once they had Jeff wrapped up in plastic, he kicked the metal table’s lock up so it could roll, and he started to move Jeff out of the room. He stopped before he could get to the door and then looked over his shoulder at the doctor. “You probably don’t want it, but thanks for trying.” He said softly. “And I am sorry for ruining your night.” He told her before he started to push the table out the door.
He didn’t know how long he stood there staring down at his comrade. He knew the doctor was still there, he could idly hear her cleaning her tools. He didn’t look at her when she started to lecture him. He knew fully well that he couldn’t let this happen again, and that he’d fucked up. He didn’t need it repeated, but lecturing others on their mistakes made some people feel better, so he stood there and took it.
He considered it part of his punishment for what he’d done to Jeff and didn’t actually look up at her until she was poking him in the chest. His hand reaching up instinctively to snatch her wrist to stop the motion, as he fixed tear-filled, brown eyes on her that reflected the pain and remorse he felt. It might have been incredibly unfair to her, in dragging her out there with them when it was a losing chance, but Mick had needed to try for Jeff. The injury was far out of their leagues, they weren’t training medical professionals and Jo only knew the basics.
“I don’t plan on it.” Was his only response, before he let go of her wrist and moved to help with the plastic. In that moment he didn't plan on a lot of things repeating themselves. He couldn't afford repeats, and he wouldn't put the team through anymore of this sort of suffering. Jeff would be the first and last death of his team, and if there to be another death...It'd be his. For once he didn’t want to talk, or to poke buttons at someone. He wanted to get Jeff wrapped up and taken home. Even if the compound was merely a pretty display at home base. It was the only home any of them had.
He reached up and placed Jeffs arms across his chest. Folding them he’d seen in so many movies. He didn’t know how much time passed but once they had Jeff wrapped up in plastic, he kicked the metal table’s lock up so it could roll, and he started to move Jeff out of the room. He stopped before he could get to the door and then looked over his shoulder at the doctor. “You probably don’t want it, but thanks for trying.” He said softly. “And I am sorry for ruining your night.” He told her before he started to push the table out the door.
