From here.

Blame @vegetacide I should be working!

He was too pale in some places and too red in others. The
green of his baldric only made the colour scheme worse. The blue just turned
his blood dark.

It was her own fault. She had unhooked her harness from the
belay at just the wrong moment, attempting to reach that last survivor.

Former survivor.

The mountain had rumbled down on them. She’d only had a
split second to realise what was happening before he barrelled into her, his
sheer mass wrapping around her, ever the protective idiot she loved.

There was snow and rock. She managed to hold onto her belay
rope, but other than that, the world just spun sickeningly.

In the confusion a sharp spire of rock loomed, Virgil
reached, his arm blue against all the white.

And he screamed.

She’d never heard him quite make that kind of sound.

And their fall stopped.

The snow roared around them, but they had stopped moving.

She took the opportunity and, fumbling, reattached her belay
to her harness.

He was trembling around her, his arm the only purchase they
had. His eyes were clenched shut. “Virgil?”

“I can’t…” He cried out as something hit them and they were
falling again.

White.

Freefall.

And the horrible snap of tightening rope as they came to a
complete stop mid-air.

Dangling.

The snow fell away.

The mountain fell quiet.

And they spun idly over a drop held back only by their
tangled ropes.

He was too pale.

And too red, his uniform torn down his right side where the
rock spire had gouged him on their way down.

She reached for him.

He was dazed and in pain. She checked his harness, his
blessed baldric securing him to his line. She made sure they were inseparable,
looping her line in with the loops on his belt.

Where the hell was his helmet? Snow peppered his dark hair.

He blinked, his brow furrowing. His right arm dripped red
down into the eternity below them as he attempted to move it in her direction.

She reached for him, wrapping her hand around the back of
his neck, supporting him. He was a dead weight, only his left arm holding her
ever so tightly to him. The last message sent to the limb still trying to save
her life.

“C’mon, Virgil, work with me here.”

Please.

He finally focussed on her, only to have the wind spin them
around, snow fluttering in her face. He moaned in pain, his eyes scrunching
shut.

“Virgil!”

He shuddered. And to her horror, the arm holding her fell
slack.

Desperate, she pulled him to her. “Damnit, Virgil, don’t you
dare do this to me.” She switched frequencies. “Thunderbird Five, I need you
now.”

John’s voice was tense in her ears. “I have control of
Thunderbird Two. Moving her to your location.”

Virgil was touching her helmet. “Kay?” He left red smears on
the plexiglass.

“John’s got Thunderbird Two. He’s bringing her around. We’ll
be down in a moment. Hang on, Virgil.”

His lips were white, his brown eyes ever so intense. “Can
never let you go.” And he smiled up at her, their lazy spin above certain death
ignored for an unbelievable moment. “Marry me?”

Her eyes widened…and the air was consumed by the roar of
VTOL as Thunderbird Two tore around the mountain.

-o-o-o-

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