[fic] l4d2: not like this [1/1]
Title: Not Like This
Author: motorbabyx
Rating: R
Characters: Nick, Ellis
Pairings: None (Nick/Ellis if you squint)
Spoilers: Hard Rain
Warnings: Violence, character death.
Disclaimer: I don't own Left 4 Dead - just the copy I play.
Summary: Nick always pictured the kid going out in a blaze of glory - guns blasting, or chainsaw roaring (maybe even both). This, though...this never entered his mind.
Author's Note: Yikes, this has been sitting around since the 5th! Seeing how it's now the 21st, and I've been editing other stuff like a mad woman, I figured I'd finally finish it up to post to the Nellis comm. I'm sorry my first submission to you guys brings teh sadz! /weeps
"Didn't have to do that," Nick wheezed, dropping Ellis onto the cement floor before wheeling around and slamming the enforced metal door shut on their attackers.
Two days. Two whole goddamn days they'd been on their own, separated from the others during a storm. Two days of skulking around the shadows, forced to scavenge abandoned grocery stores and broken vending machines. They'd had to rely more on stealth and their wits than their guns.
And after all that?
The fucking hick had thrown himself in front of a Witch that had her eye squarely planted on Nick. And after all Nick's chanting of 'have to be more careful,' 'there's no one left to back us up anymore,' 'have to trust each other' - the kid fucked it all up.
Sure they'd been in each other's company for a while, and maybe (just maybe) Nick was too attached to the kid, and the kid to him, but he seriously doubted that Ellis' intentions were purely heroic.
He'd seen the way the kid would stare at his pistol when he thought Nick was asleep, saw how he'd cradle it in his hands and rub his thumb over the grip.
He always told himself those weren't tears in the kid's eyes - just sweat. He was just tired.
"Did," Ellis fought, bursting through Nick's thoughts while he busied himself with ripping open the kid's shredded shirt, trying to find the god damn painkillers, and where the hell were the bandages?
"Hold still," Nick grunted, but there was no venom in his words. He wordlessly cleaned the gouges across Ellis' chest, taking note of their depth, how much he was bleeding, how labored his every breath was becoming-
No. No, no, no.
"Stop, stop," the pain and desperation in the kid's words made his chest tight, and when El flailed his hands about uselessly, Nick did as he asked. With a shuddering breath, he sat back on his haunches, dragged his blood soaked hands through his hair, racked his brain for something, anything…
"'M fine, s'alright," Ellis sucked in a sharp breath, seeming to get a wave of strength. His eyes went wide, his face unnaturally stark as he pushed himself into a less slouched position against the wall. All Nick could think was how odd it seemed to see the kid's hat askew.
"Y'got anythin' for this?" El asked abruptly, staring straight at Nick. For a moment he thought the kid had meant painkillers, but after a moment he realized it was something else.
He laughed, shaky and forced - right to no one's ears. "You know me too well," he muttered, reaching a trembling hand into his suit jacket to retrieve a small flask. He took a swallow before handing it over.
Ellis drank deeply and sloppily - though it would've been the same even if there wasn't a gaping hole in the kid's chest.
Nick's eyes drifted with his thoughts, and almost on instinct he pulled his jacket off to lay over him. El swallowed hard, his eyes locked on Nick's, though they seemed to be growing hazy. In a moment, Nick was sitting next to him, staring off at the opposite wall while Ellis was still focused on something a little closer.
"'S a ladder goin' to the roof," Ellis muttered, pausing to cough and cringe at the pain it caused, "you still got another flare."
"Yeah," Nick agreed, eyes facing downward and focused on his hands. Intellectually, Nick perfectly understood the current situation - what it was leading to, the lengths he'd have to go to. But emotionally? Fuck…Emotionally, he was trying to figure out a way to get Ellis stable, get him up to the roof, set off the flare at the perfect moment for CEDA, the Military - fuck, even Coach and Rochelle to see.
"It's slow," Nick said quietly, finally looking up at Ellis. That intense gaze of a person giving it their fucking all just to hold on…just a few more minutes…
"It ain't so bad," Ellis lied, and Nick finally noticed how pale the kid had gotten - how the splotch of blood on his jacket had appeared and grown at a rapid pace. He took in a breath to say that maybe it wasn't too late, maybe if he got the bandages on tight enough they could keep going-
"I'm okay," the kid said finally. The peace that had settled on his face was unnerving.
No one so young should be so okay with this.
Nick knew his expression was giving away his thoughts when El repeated himself, just a bit quieter, just a bit weaker.
"Need to go," he added, eyes slipping shut not of his own will. In a panic Nick pulled himself into a crouch, patted the kid's face until he came back to reality with a shallow breath.
"Stay with me, kid," Nick said, paying no mind to the desperation his words were laced with.
"Don't…don't do nothin' s-stupid now, y…you hear me?" Ellis bumbled and slurred his words, head drooping to the side, a vague hint of a smile creeping over his lips before they went slack.
"Ellis," uttered harshly, accentuated with a shake of his shoulders.
Silence.
"El, come on," a huff of forced laughter, a frantic smile, another shake.
Silence, loosening muscles beneath his hands, eyes half-lidded and lifeless.
The wind became the dominant sound in the small space. Nick pried his fingers away from the boy (he's just a fucking boy) in front of him, scrambled across the room to stand with his back against the wall. Eyes fixed on Ellis.
Eyes fixed on his friend.
Autopilot finally took over. Didn't give him as much time as he wanted. As much as he needed.
It carried him to the med locker, the stash of ammo, the stack of pipe bombs, but stopped short of the ladder. Relented some of its hold over him, allowed him to look to the body slumped against the wall.
His feet carried him closer almost soundlessly, the world but a blur. He knelt over the boy, took a moment to study his face. Took a moment to burn it into his memory, something to use, something to keep him fighting.
He pulled the strap of his gun over his shoulder, and leaned close. Touched his forehead to the boy's cooling one. Hands snaked up, thumbs brushed over open eyelids that were slowly pulled down. An apology whispered so softy it might have been the wind.
As the ladder creaked and groaned under his weight, heavy limbs reaching for each rung, his eyes were focused on the trap door he was climbing to.
He didn't look back.
Author: motorbabyx
Rating: R
Characters: Nick, Ellis
Pairings: None (Nick/Ellis if you squint)
Spoilers: Hard Rain
Warnings: Violence, character death.
Disclaimer: I don't own Left 4 Dead - just the copy I play.
Summary: Nick always pictured the kid going out in a blaze of glory - guns blasting, or chainsaw roaring (maybe even both). This, though...this never entered his mind.
Author's Note: Yikes, this has been sitting around since the 5th! Seeing how it's now the 21st, and I've been editing other stuff like a mad woman, I figured I'd finally finish it up to post to the Nellis comm. I'm sorry my first submission to you guys brings teh sadz! /weeps
"Didn't have to do that," Nick wheezed, dropping Ellis onto the cement floor before wheeling around and slamming the enforced metal door shut on their attackers.
Two days. Two whole goddamn days they'd been on their own, separated from the others during a storm. Two days of skulking around the shadows, forced to scavenge abandoned grocery stores and broken vending machines. They'd had to rely more on stealth and their wits than their guns.
And after all that?
The fucking hick had thrown himself in front of a Witch that had her eye squarely planted on Nick. And after all Nick's chanting of 'have to be more careful,' 'there's no one left to back us up anymore,' 'have to trust each other' - the kid fucked it all up.
Sure they'd been in each other's company for a while, and maybe (just maybe) Nick was too attached to the kid, and the kid to him, but he seriously doubted that Ellis' intentions were purely heroic.
He'd seen the way the kid would stare at his pistol when he thought Nick was asleep, saw how he'd cradle it in his hands and rub his thumb over the grip.
He always told himself those weren't tears in the kid's eyes - just sweat. He was just tired.
"Did," Ellis fought, bursting through Nick's thoughts while he busied himself with ripping open the kid's shredded shirt, trying to find the god damn painkillers, and where the hell were the bandages?
"Hold still," Nick grunted, but there was no venom in his words. He wordlessly cleaned the gouges across Ellis' chest, taking note of their depth, how much he was bleeding, how labored his every breath was becoming-
No. No, no, no.
"Stop, stop," the pain and desperation in the kid's words made his chest tight, and when El flailed his hands about uselessly, Nick did as he asked. With a shuddering breath, he sat back on his haunches, dragged his blood soaked hands through his hair, racked his brain for something, anything…
"'M fine, s'alright," Ellis sucked in a sharp breath, seeming to get a wave of strength. His eyes went wide, his face unnaturally stark as he pushed himself into a less slouched position against the wall. All Nick could think was how odd it seemed to see the kid's hat askew.
"Y'got anythin' for this?" El asked abruptly, staring straight at Nick. For a moment he thought the kid had meant painkillers, but after a moment he realized it was something else.
He laughed, shaky and forced - right to no one's ears. "You know me too well," he muttered, reaching a trembling hand into his suit jacket to retrieve a small flask. He took a swallow before handing it over.
Ellis drank deeply and sloppily - though it would've been the same even if there wasn't a gaping hole in the kid's chest.
Nick's eyes drifted with his thoughts, and almost on instinct he pulled his jacket off to lay over him. El swallowed hard, his eyes locked on Nick's, though they seemed to be growing hazy. In a moment, Nick was sitting next to him, staring off at the opposite wall while Ellis was still focused on something a little closer.
"'S a ladder goin' to the roof," Ellis muttered, pausing to cough and cringe at the pain it caused, "you still got another flare."
"Yeah," Nick agreed, eyes facing downward and focused on his hands. Intellectually, Nick perfectly understood the current situation - what it was leading to, the lengths he'd have to go to. But emotionally? Fuck…Emotionally, he was trying to figure out a way to get Ellis stable, get him up to the roof, set off the flare at the perfect moment for CEDA, the Military - fuck, even Coach and Rochelle to see.
"It's slow," Nick said quietly, finally looking up at Ellis. That intense gaze of a person giving it their fucking all just to hold on…just a few more minutes…
"It ain't so bad," Ellis lied, and Nick finally noticed how pale the kid had gotten - how the splotch of blood on his jacket had appeared and grown at a rapid pace. He took in a breath to say that maybe it wasn't too late, maybe if he got the bandages on tight enough they could keep going-
"I'm okay," the kid said finally. The peace that had settled on his face was unnerving.
No one so young should be so okay with this.
Nick knew his expression was giving away his thoughts when El repeated himself, just a bit quieter, just a bit weaker.
"Need to go," he added, eyes slipping shut not of his own will. In a panic Nick pulled himself into a crouch, patted the kid's face until he came back to reality with a shallow breath.
"Stay with me, kid," Nick said, paying no mind to the desperation his words were laced with.
"Don't…don't do nothin' s-stupid now, y…you hear me?" Ellis bumbled and slurred his words, head drooping to the side, a vague hint of a smile creeping over his lips before they went slack.
"Ellis," uttered harshly, accentuated with a shake of his shoulders.
Silence.
"El, come on," a huff of forced laughter, a frantic smile, another shake.
Silence, loosening muscles beneath his hands, eyes half-lidded and lifeless.
The wind became the dominant sound in the small space. Nick pried his fingers away from the boy (he's just a fucking boy) in front of him, scrambled across the room to stand with his back against the wall. Eyes fixed on Ellis.
Eyes fixed on his friend.
Autopilot finally took over. Didn't give him as much time as he wanted. As much as he needed.
It carried him to the med locker, the stash of ammo, the stack of pipe bombs, but stopped short of the ladder. Relented some of its hold over him, allowed him to look to the body slumped against the wall.
His feet carried him closer almost soundlessly, the world but a blur. He knelt over the boy, took a moment to study his face. Took a moment to burn it into his memory, something to use, something to keep him fighting.
He pulled the strap of his gun over his shoulder, and leaned close. Touched his forehead to the boy's cooling one. Hands snaked up, thumbs brushed over open eyelids that were slowly pulled down. An apology whispered so softy it might have been the wind.
As the ladder creaked and groaned under his weight, heavy limbs reaching for each rung, his eyes were focused on the trap door he was climbing to.
He didn't look back.