(no subject)
He touched the back of his head, wincing at the sharp pain his light press caused. He rubbed his fingers together, letting the moisture soak into his skin. He sighed and heaved himself off the ground. Peering into the darkness, he saw the heap a few feet away from him. The heap that had been Alex was motionless. Jared rubbed his hands together; the chill seeped in through his light uniform and open coat.
He took a few unsteady steps toward his fallen partner; if he hadn't had lost his gun in the scuffle, it would be drawn and ready in front of him. Instead, all he had was a stick he'd been laying on, thinner than his wrist, and not much longer than his forearm. He crabwalked toward Alex's body, keeping his guard up, and kicked the man with the toe of his boot.
Under other circumstances, he would have felt silly jumping back, brandishing a damp branch, but when Alex moaned and twiched, he felt it was best to keep his distance.
"Don't move, Alex," Jared barked, "You're under arrest for attacking a policer officer. I'm not afraid to shoot you." Alex moaned as he sat up, ignoring Jared's threats. "I order you to lay back, Alex!"
"Shut up, man. You lost your gun, remember? I was there. You can't do shit to me." In the darkness, Jared could see the shape of his partner fidgeting, probably checking his own head for tender spots.
Jared took a step towards the figure, and struck him over the head with the stick, which broke, half of which sailed off into the dark.
"Jesus fucking Christ, Jared, what the fuck's the matter with you?" Alex yelped. Jared was suddenly struck behind the knee, causing him to collapse on the ground beside his assailant. "Jesus, what the fuck you doing hitting a man while he's down, that's dirty playing, you asshole."
Jared scooted away from Alex, who returned to checking his body for damage.
"Christ, you made me bleed." He sounded annoyed, which gave the whole scenario an surreal quality. The two of them, beaten and broken, tired and bloody, sitting in the middle of a forest in the middle of the night, in the midst of autumn.
Jared coughed and gagged and vomited in a patch of grass beside him. "You-you shot Franklin. You fucking killed him. What were you thinking?! God, what's going on?"
Alex's form rocked for a moment, then levered into a standing position. He hocked and spit, then walked toward Jared, who was wiping his mouth on the sleeve of his parka. A hand appeared in front of Jared's face, and, after a second of hesitation, he took it, letting Alex help him up.
"You still don't get it, do you?" He gripped Jared behind the neck and pulled his face close enough that Jared could almost make out the color of Alex's eyes, "Franklin's dirty. They're all fucking dirty. We've been set-up, apart from each other. They set us up to one another to keep us busy, to keep us off their fucking trail. We stumbled on to something that night on our shift, and now they're trying to take care of us."
fifteen minute:
"Routine"
He took a few unsteady steps toward his fallen partner; if he hadn't had lost his gun in the scuffle, it would be drawn and ready in front of him. Instead, all he had was a stick he'd been laying on, thinner than his wrist, and not much longer than his forearm. He crabwalked toward Alex's body, keeping his guard up, and kicked the man with the toe of his boot.
Under other circumstances, he would have felt silly jumping back, brandishing a damp branch, but when Alex moaned and twiched, he felt it was best to keep his distance.
"Don't move, Alex," Jared barked, "You're under arrest for attacking a policer officer. I'm not afraid to shoot you." Alex moaned as he sat up, ignoring Jared's threats. "I order you to lay back, Alex!"
"Shut up, man. You lost your gun, remember? I was there. You can't do shit to me." In the darkness, Jared could see the shape of his partner fidgeting, probably checking his own head for tender spots.
Jared took a step towards the figure, and struck him over the head with the stick, which broke, half of which sailed off into the dark.
"Jesus fucking Christ, Jared, what the fuck's the matter with you?" Alex yelped. Jared was suddenly struck behind the knee, causing him to collapse on the ground beside his assailant. "Jesus, what the fuck you doing hitting a man while he's down, that's dirty playing, you asshole."
Jared scooted away from Alex, who returned to checking his body for damage.
"Christ, you made me bleed." He sounded annoyed, which gave the whole scenario an surreal quality. The two of them, beaten and broken, tired and bloody, sitting in the middle of a forest in the middle of the night, in the midst of autumn.
Jared coughed and gagged and vomited in a patch of grass beside him. "You-you shot Franklin. You fucking killed him. What were you thinking?! God, what's going on?"
Alex's form rocked for a moment, then levered into a standing position. He hocked and spit, then walked toward Jared, who was wiping his mouth on the sleeve of his parka. A hand appeared in front of Jared's face, and, after a second of hesitation, he took it, letting Alex help him up.
"You still don't get it, do you?" He gripped Jared behind the neck and pulled his face close enough that Jared could almost make out the color of Alex's eyes, "Franklin's dirty. They're all fucking dirty. We've been set-up, apart from each other. They set us up to one another to keep us busy, to keep us off their fucking trail. We stumbled on to something that night on our shift, and now they're trying to take care of us."
fifteen minute:
"Routine"