“Y-you...” Desmond breathed out, in disbelief but hope fluttered high in his chest.
The short man, Dusty, face crumbled, told him, “I... I couldn't do it. I could do this,” he yelled angrily, waving an arm to indicate the two men – one still shuddering in death's arms. “But I couldn't do it to you. Oh, God... Oh, God.” he whimpered, hissing through his teeth and tears.
The man collapsed on his knees to wail. Desmond slumped fully against the trench wall, sliding bonelessly sideways to lay on the ground, covering his mouth with one bloody hand. He squeezed his eyes shut, tightly, silently weeping, overcome from the gamut of extreme emotions he had been put through.
“I didn't want this. I didn't want to be here. I just want this nightmare to end,” Dusty sobbed.
“I- I j-just – you have a family,” Dusty raised his head to look at Desmond, explaining through tears choking his words. “A family. I don't. I. Don't.” He pounded the ground hard with one fist, weeping into the dirt. “You're so lucky... I just couldn't.” Then, Dusty gathered himself, momentairly, and rose on shaky legs, like a newborn deer.
“You...” He swiped at his face, sniffling. “You alright? Huh?”
Desmond opened his mouth. “Yeah. Than-”
Several shots rang through the air, unintermittedly, and Dusty's hoarse scream cut off mid-way; Dusty froze in place, arms stiff and jerking aloft, back shuddering with each connecting bullet – blood sprayed like a fine mist out from his back. Then, Dusty's body tottered forward, and his eyes locked in a stare with Desmond, commanding he watch.
Desmond did, helplessly.
Dusty, blood trailing from his mouth, fell into the trench in a slow descent, landing on top Desmond, helmeted head slamming like heavy stone on Desmond's sternum.
“Oh, fuck,” Desmond whispered, tone high and desperate. His hands clutched at Dusty's shoulders. “Dusty, Dust, man, you alrig- oh, no. Oh, fuck, fuck – fuck.” Desmond hugged Dusty to him, mind reeling, refusing to believe what had just occurred.
Dusty, miraculously, began to twitch in his arms and Desmond tightened his hold, tears swimming in his eyes, again and down his face. The least he could do for the man who saved his life was give him some comfort as he died.
“Oh, God, I'm so fucking sorry, man. I'm so sorry...” Loud stomping made their way to them and Desmond moaned in his throat, despair clawing at him, knowing he was going to die here. Either from the leg wound or by the incoming enemy squadron.
Dusty murmured something, muffled by Desmond's protective vest. Desmond let go, helping Dusty raise his head with shaking hands.
“What, Dust?”
“Let go...” Dusty weakly whispered. Desmond did so; Dusty's hands moved to his shoulders and with a keening, pained sound, Dusty slid upward slowly until his helmeted head lay on Desmond's. His weight was crushing on Desmond, but he allowed it, numbly confused.
Blood dripped onto Desmond's face and Dusty whispered with a struggle, staring into straight through Desmond with eyes so vibrant a green, Desmond felt he would never forget them: “G-got an... any na-ames pick-ed! ...out?” he stuttered, coughing and Desmond held in a shout of horror because this wasn't happening.
Warring of Talons Part 19/?
The short man, Dusty, face crumbled, told him, “I... I couldn't do it. I could do this,” he yelled angrily, waving an arm to indicate the two men – one still shuddering in death's arms. “But I couldn't do it to you. Oh, God... Oh, God.” he whimpered, hissing through his teeth and tears.
The man collapsed on his knees to wail. Desmond slumped fully against the trench wall, sliding bonelessly sideways to lay on the ground, covering his mouth with one bloody hand. He squeezed his eyes shut, tightly, silently weeping, overcome from the gamut of extreme emotions he had been put through.
“I didn't want this. I didn't want to be here. I just want this nightmare to end,” Dusty sobbed.
“I- I j-just – you have a family,” Dusty raised his head to look at Desmond, explaining through tears choking his words. “A family. I don't. I. Don't.” He pounded the ground hard with one fist, weeping into the dirt. “You're so lucky... I just couldn't.” Then, Dusty gathered himself, momentairly, and rose on shaky legs, like a newborn deer.
“You...” He swiped at his face, sniffling. “You alright? Huh?”
Desmond opened his mouth. “Yeah. Than-”
Several shots rang through the air, unintermittedly, and Dusty's hoarse scream cut off mid-way; Dusty froze in place, arms stiff and jerking aloft, back shuddering with each connecting bullet – blood sprayed like a fine mist out from his back. Then, Dusty's body tottered forward, and his eyes locked in a stare with Desmond, commanding he watch.
Desmond did, helplessly.
Dusty, blood trailing from his mouth, fell into the trench in a slow descent, landing on top Desmond, helmeted head slamming like heavy stone on Desmond's sternum.
“Oh, fuck,” Desmond whispered, tone high and desperate. His hands clutched at Dusty's shoulders. “Dusty, Dust, man, you alrig- oh, no. Oh, fuck, fuck – fuck.” Desmond hugged Dusty to him, mind reeling, refusing to believe what had just occurred.
Dusty, miraculously, began to twitch in his arms and Desmond tightened his hold, tears swimming in his eyes, again and down his face. The least he could do for the man who saved his life was give him some comfort as he died.
“Oh, God, I'm so fucking sorry, man. I'm so sorry...” Loud stomping made their way to them and Desmond moaned in his throat, despair clawing at him, knowing he was going to die here. Either from the leg wound or by the incoming enemy squadron.
Dusty murmured something, muffled by Desmond's protective vest. Desmond let go, helping Dusty raise his head with shaking hands.
“What, Dust?”
“Let go...” Dusty weakly whispered. Desmond did so; Dusty's hands moved to his shoulders and with a keening, pained sound, Dusty slid upward slowly until his helmeted head lay on Desmond's. His weight was crushing on Desmond, but he allowed it, numbly confused.
Blood dripped onto Desmond's face and Dusty whispered with a struggle, staring into straight through Desmond with eyes so vibrant a green, Desmond felt he would never forget them: “G-got an... any na-ames pick-ed! ...out?” he stuttered, coughing and Desmond held in a shout of horror because this wasn't happening.