His head hurt. James waded out of the dark but it was hard. So damned hard. His body would not move. His shoulder hurt. Like hell. His good shoulder, not the metallic one. He groaned when finally his mind could pair the odd sensation of numbness with reality. He was cold. Cold to the point where it caused pain and his mind had blocked out what his pain receptors was passing on.
James cursed as it all came back to him. Danvers’ punch, paired with a concussive blast. It had knocked him down, and out. He was gritting his teeth, already beginning to contemplate how he would catch up with her again. Certainly, she had gone and disappeared on him after knocking him unconscious.
James sat, pushing out his arm that held the small display. He pulled back the protective cover, surprised to find the blinking dot … right there at his position. Pushing wet dark hair out of his face, he looked around. He had trouble pushing up onto his feet. His shoulder hurt. The blast had torn through the fabric and he could smell his own blood. The liquid compounds of it had frozen already. Other than that and a pounding headache, he was intact.
Giving up on the attempt to stand, James turned and pushed towards Carol Danvers’ form on all fours. She was unconscious. “Danvers”, he tried, pushing her head to the side with gentle strength. He could see the dried red in the snow next to her. The earth beneath her head was drenched in a dirty red hue. “Shit”, he murmured. Apparently she had not just managed to knock him out, but herself as well.
Snow was dancing in the air around them, and James could tell that the storm was drawing closer. They would have well over a foot of new snow within the hour. They would need to get inside somewhere. Trekking back to her car was pointless. He would never make it in time. Despite his added strength and stamina, he was dazed from the cold and hurt as well. So forward it would have to be. Her cabin …
Pushing his arms through her smaller, slender form, he pulled her up from the ground and against his broad chest. James looked up, clenching his jaws to ignore the pain in his shoulder. It was just a flesh wound, he was sure, and once he was warmed up it would heal in no time. But for now it was giving him grief. Yet her state worried him more. His objective was, after all, make sure she survived. They needed her alive. And she was colder than he felt – less body mass, less muscle. With her head wound, James wondered whether her state was already critical.
He stood, turned towards the direction she had been headed into. And then he saw it. The clearing, the cabin beyond that sat nested between the low hanging branches of pine trees.
James stumbled ahead, her form pressed against him as he made his way to the cabin. She remained unconscious, and he was sure it was good like that. He was certain, she would pick up the fight instantly, no matter that she was in no state to do so. James set her down, jamming his artificial shoulder into the cabin’s door. The lock splintered and gave. He pushed inside, putting Carol down on the couch in the center of the room. Then he turned around and locked the door from the inside with a horizontal bar barricading it.
His vision blurred and he had trouble standing up but nonetheless, he forced himself to keep walking. He went for the fireplace, throwing a generous pile of the wood stacked next to it onto the hearth and lighting it. He held his human palm open, facing the blooming flames as they began claiming the dried wood. He was still shivering. Slowly, he pulled off the glove. His palm was bloodied.
James stood, gazing towards Carol. She was covered in snow, and her clothes would soon be drenched. With achingly slow motions, he stood and it took effort to get out of his own snowy and partially wet clothes. He grabbed one of the blankets from the large armchair when he had stripped off jacket and shirts he wore. The pants were made from sturdier material. They were damp at best for now. His shoulder was but a flesh wound. It could wait.
He grabbed the other blanket, approached Danvers. She was still out like a light. He knelt down beside her. His fingers still shaking, he did have some trouble examining her head wound. From what he could tell, it was probably a mild concussion. Split skin that had blead but was already fusing closed again. She had a healing factor, did she not? Though he wondered, with all of her powers dialled down – was that down as well?
What he noticed most was how incredibly cold she was. With clumsy fingers he unbuttoned her jacket and then her hoodie and shirt. She had somewhat dressed for the cold and James found himself working on four layers of clothing. Most of them wet by now. He swallowed and paused for a moment after he had torn down the top she wore underneath it all. No bra underneath. Her upper body exposed like that, he couldn’t help the moment that passed when he just stared. James had never noticed the proportions of her body before. Slender, but tall for a woman. Breasts of a lovely size on a woman so muscular. He exhaled with a shiver as he unbuckled her pants. Her jeans and the leggings underneath were completely wet.
Part of him was grateful she wore panties.
He stood, dropping his own pair of pants. A shiver raced through him. The cold had crept into his bones. He, too, needed to warm up quickly. Pulling the blanked closer around his shoulders, James bent down and lifted Carol Danver’s unconscious form into his arms. He silently willed her to not wake. Not just yet. Turning, he shuffled towards the fire that had claimed all the wood he had thrown onto the hearth for it.
James sat down, placing Carol in his lap. Another shiver raced across him as her bare upper body came flush against his. He folded her arms around his shoulders, wincing when her skin brushed against the slowly fusing skin of his shoulder. He folded his legs, making her pull up her legs against her stomach so she eventually sat somewhat sideways leaned against him. He bunched up some of the blanket against his bionic arm where her head rested while pulling both blankets close around them.
He could feel warmth sparking into existence where her body leaned against his bare skin, he just hoped that her concussion kept her down long enough so he could explain to her that warming up with a supposed enemy right now was favourable to dying the snow storm that was picking up momentum outside.
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bury my heart next to yours