tampered | Log: Complete

When; September 8th, evening
Rating; PG for language
Characters; Rangiku

blind_shot
Summary; Sands finds a broken and bloody Ran.
Log;

Dim light filtered in through the dust covered windows, lighting the bare floor of the warehouse. Rangiku lay sprawled against a wall, covered in drying blood and the dust that covers everything in the warehouse (barring the living areas). Eyes closed, she didn’t notice how her sword arm hung limp at her side; her hand so caked in dust and blood that no skin showed through. Her opposite hand was curled over her waist, covering one of the many spots that had been run though by the tentacle-like appendages her opponent had sported after he released his zanpakutou. Her shoulder bore a matching hole, and her legs were marred with smaller punctures that still oozed sluggishly.

The bruises that covered her had ached at first, but she’d gone past the point of feeling individual hurt. Now, the ache was dying off, but she knew why. She’d been beaten battered past much help, and all she had to do now was wait. Wait to heal, or wait to die. She didn’t really know and couldn’t spare the energy to think about it.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"It's the cat. Little bastard ruins my game." It's probably the smell of pot and gunpowder that seeps from Sands' every pore mixed with the tobacco, opium, cat, and burnt food.
As she coughs he touches her hair more- imitating the comforting strokes she gave him when he was deaf.

"It's okay. I don't need light to find the way out. It'll be over soon."
It should be strange. Talking a person into death that you'll speak to again in a few hours. But he does it like he has before. As if Sands was hunted by the dead when really, he never considers them again.
"I'll be here to lead you out."
As she quiets he strokes her cheek.

She leans into his touch for a moment, then gradually starts to sag as even the heaviness bleeds away. The broken piece of Haineko's blade slides from her fingers, not making a sound as it hits the dusty ground.

Sands wraps his arms around her, taking her weight. He's not afraid of hurting her anymore. Putting his mouth by her ear he mummers that it will be fine. And everything is okay. He's never done this before. He's never lost anyone he actually cared for.
Even when he can't feel her breathing any longer he still talks to her, stroking her hair. After a while he does check her pulse just to be sure.

Now he has a problem. Sands is not trustworthy around a freshly dead body. His first instinct is to search it. That impulse passes slowly with the reminder that she will be back in it soon. Instead he leans her against him as he folds the blanket into a pillow- laying her down again.
Sands holds her hand and waits. He's wanted to know for a while now what happens to the dead here. Unable to carry her home without the use of his cane- he lights a cigarette and holds her hand as he waits.

An hour passes with no sign of movement. Finally, a muscle jerks in her arm, making her fingers flex around Sands'. There's a gasp as air moves to fill dead lungs, then a low moan followed by another cough.

The wounds are slowly closing off on their own, but the damage remains, which is obvious as she tries to roll to her side.

A pile of cigarette butts are collected at his side. He never lets go of her hand. Stiff joints and boredom are a small price to pay to make good on his word. For once. He'll be there when she wakes up.
When she finally does he jumps. The warehouse was so quiet he was mentally stalking rats. When her arm jerks he reacts as if someone goosed him.

Sands helps her to her side, holding her head in his lap in case another jerk smashes it into concrete.
"Hey, girl. It's okay. Breathe. You're doing good."

It would have been less disturbing if there was some kind of light or other dramatic thing. She just came back and all he saw was Night Of The Living Dead.

She curls in on herself, her hand scrabbling at the floor for a moment as she tries to slow her breathing. Her fingers find the side hem of his pants and she curls them in the fabric. Her mind is still not quite aware; like a person awakened during a night terror.

Finally able to breathe regularly, she settles some.

"Sands...?"

She thought she heard his voice, but she isn't sure since she's so disoriented.

"I'm here."
He strokes her hair hoping she doesn't hurt him in her panic. Being grabbed by a woman just coming back to life who could possible twist a man into a pretzel is a little nerve racking. That would really ruin his plans for being the good guy this time around.
He wonders how strong she really is. If she could snap him physically as well as mentally.
And how much she'll remember in these first few minutes.

"We're still in the warehouse. You're gonna have to walk a little bit for me. I'm here to help you but I can't do this myself."
His words are soft and slow. There's no hurry.
"You're a warrior, Rangiku. We can do this."

Ran lays still for several minutes, her mind gradually catching up to her body. The chill is back in her bones, along with the heaviness, but it's better than the nothingness that preceded the end. She finally processes his words, but is slow to respond.

She's trying to leech warmth from the minimal contact with him, but she gingerly pushes herself up to an unsteady sitting position with a groan. Dull eyes blink open to stare at him, still unsure if he really had stayed with her.

"... can't yet. Give me a few... minutes."

Sands helps her sit up and wraps the blanket around her tightly. He's not sure how healed she is or not and had no idea what to expect.
"We have all night. Don't rush yourself."

Sheldon pulls her closer very carefully. With her back against his chest and Ran nearly in his lap, he wraps his arms around her trying to comfort. But his real goal here is to warm her up. Sands has her in a position soldiers are taught to use when they need to conserve as much body heat as possible. It keeps her warm and gives her the benefit of most of the heat he's putting out.

In his mind he's planning what they need to stay here tonight in case she's not ready to move any time soon. Until then he's a little worried about the injuries sending her into shock.
He decides it would be better to force her to move tonight then risk having her grow worse in the warehouse.
"Rest and get warm. That's all you need to do right now."

She allows him to move her, which is a little uncharacteristic for her, but she's in no position to argue. Gratefully, she sinks back against him, but only remains there for a few minutes. As soon as she's a bit warmer, she moves away and slowly stands with very little of her usual grace. Her legs might be shaky, but she feels a small sense of pride that she's able to stand so soon after death.

One hand on the wall for balance, she mumbles, "we need to go while I can..."

It takes a lot not to help her stand. But he understands the need to do it on her own. Sands stays where he is ready to catch her if she goes down- though he would have bet money on the fact she was capable. With a smile he stands beside her and puts an arms around her waist.

"I've seen colts take more time to find their legs, girl." He's teasing because he's proud. He leads her off out of the building.

Log: Complete

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