6. Reid
6
REID
T he biting wind stings my eyes, forcing me to squint against the relentless onslaught of thick, swirling snow. I pull my goggles down to shield my face, but it does little good. Despite the harsh conditions, I refuse to give up. This kind of rescue is what I’ve been waiting for. It’s what I live for.
The radio crackles to life, Viggo's voice barely audible over the howling gale. "We've located her phone... in your search area."
Relief floods through me, quickly followed by a surge of urgency.
"The conditions are brutal," I growl into the radio, my words clipped. "Visibility is almost zero."
Viggo's response is tinged with regret. "I know, Reid. Everyone else is out on missions right now. There's no one else I can send."
I grit my teeth, my grip tightening on the radio. "I don’t need help. I've got this," I say, my voice brooking no argument. This is what I was trained for - navigating treacherous terrain, relying on my senses and instincts to locate and extract those in peril. The thought of Willow, vulnerable and in pain, fuels my determination.
I shove the radio back onto my belt and start moving, my steps methodical. The snow is deep; each stride is arduous, but I push on. My eyes scan the landscape, searching for any sign of disturbance in the pristine white blanket.
"Willow!" I call out, my voice hoarse from the biting cold. "Willow, can you hear me?"
I pause, straining to hear any response over the howling wind. Nothing. I move forward again, zigzagging through the trees, my mind hyper-focused.
I must have been searching the mountain for at least thirty minutes when a faint sound, barely audible above the storm, reaches my ears. My heart leaps, and I turn sharply, my senses heightened.
"Willow!" I shout again, my voice carrying more urgency.
This time, I hear a muffled reply, a desperate cry for help. Without hesitation, I forge ahead, my legs pumping as I navigate the treacherous terrain. I catch a glimpse of something in the distance, a small mound in the snow. As I draw closer, I realize it's a makeshift shelter, and my relief is palpable.
I clamber over the drifts of snow, my heart pounding in my chest as I reach the shelter. Crouching down, I call out Willow's name, my voice laced with a rare urgency.
"Willow! Can you hear me?"
A muffled groan reaches my ears, and I waste no time digging into the snow, clearing an opening. There she is, huddled in a makeshift cocoon, her face pale and etched with pain.
"Easy, I've got you," I say, my tone uncharacteristically gentle as I carefully assess her condition. Her leg is twisted at an unnatural angle, and I wince at the sight. "I'm going to get you out of here."
Willow's eyes flutter open, and for a moment, I'm struck by the intensity of their emerald hue, even in her distress. "R-Reid?" she croaks, her voice barely above a whisper.
I nod, already reaching for the medical kit strapped to my pack. "The one and only. Just try to stay still, okay? I need to check that leg."
Willow nods weakly, and I get to work, my movements swift and efficient. As I carefully inspect her leg, I can't help but notice the way her face grimaces in pain, her teeth clenched against the agony. Something inside me twists at the sight, an unfamiliar sensation that I quickly push aside.
"It's broken, that's for sure," I mutter, gently probing the swollen limb. "You're one tough woman, Willow, hanging in there like this."
Willow lets out a shaky breath, her eyes meeting mine. "I... I didn't think anyone would find me," she admits, her voice thick with relief and embarrassment.
"Well, you thought wrong," I reply, keeping my tone matter-of-fact. "Lucky for you, I was in the area." I reach into my pack, retrieving a small splint and some bandages. "You’ve done a good job with the sticks, but I need to immobilize that leg properly. Try to hold still."
Willow nods, bracing herself as I begin the delicate process of removing the makeshift planks and securing the splint. She sucks in a sharp breath, her face contorting with pain, but she doesn't make a sound. I work quickly, my hands steady and sure.
Once the splint is in place, I sit back on my heels, assessing the situation. The storm rages on, the howling wind and swirling snow making it nearly impossible to see more than a few feet in front of us. I frown, the reality of our predicament sinking in.
"I can't get you out of here alone," I admit, my jaw tightening with frustration. "The conditions are too dangerous. I need to radio for backup."
Willow's eyes widen slightly, and the anxiety flickering across her features is clear as day. "How long will that take?" she asks.
I shake my head, wishing I had a better answer. "I'm not sure. The storm is set to last until the morning, and it’s doing a job on the signal." I pause, meeting her gaze steadily. "But I promise, I'm not leaving you here. We'll get you out of this, one way or another."
Reaching for the radio on my belt, I bring it to my lips and press the button. "Viggo, come in. Viggo, do you copy?" I wait a moment, listening for a response, but only static crackles back. I try again, my heart beating out of my chest with worry. "Damn it, the signal's dead."
I lower the radio, my mind racing. I can't extract Willow on my own, not in this weather, and with her leg in such bad shape. But I can't leave her here, either. The thought of her being stranded, alone, and injured… nope, it's not happening.
Turning to Willow, I offer her a reassuring nod. "Looks like we're in this together, for now. Don't worry, we'll figure something out."
Crouching beside the small snow shelter, I assess the situation with a critical eye. The shelter isn't enough to protect us from the worsening storm. There's no way I can fit inside it for one and for two, it wasn't exactly doing a great job of keeping Willow safe, either.
"Alright, Willow," I say, turning to her with a decisive nod. "We need to expand this thing. It's not going to cut it much longer."
She watches me warily, her face clearly showing her pain, but there's a glimmer of trust in her gaze. "What do you need me to do?"
"Nothing," I reply firmly. "Just stay put and keep warm. I've got this."
Without further ado, I set to work, my movements efficient and practiced. Using my gloved hands, I start carving away at the snow, slowly but surely enlarging the shelter. The dense, packed snow yields to my skilled touch, and I build up the walls, ensuring they're sturdy and secure.
Willow observes me with a mix of fascination and disbelief, her eyes tracking my every action. "You're good at this," she murmurs, her voice soft but tinged with awe.
I glance over at her, offering a faint, lopsided smile. "Comes with the territory," I reply, my tone gruff but not unkind. "Spent a lot of time in places like this."
I can feel Willow’s gaze on me as I work, her emerald eyes seeming to bore into my soul. It's an unfamiliar sensation, one that has me feeling strangely self-conscious. I push the feeling aside, focusing instead on packing the snow together to keep the cold out as much as possible.
Once the shelter is large enough to accommodate us both, I pause to catch my breath, my gloved hands flexing. Reaching into my pack, I pull out a protein bar and a water bottle and offer them to Willow.
"You need to keep your strength up," I say, my voice low and gentle. "Eat this, and drink as much as you can."
Willow hesitates for a moment, her eyes searching mine before she slowly takes the items from my outstretched hand. Our fingers brush, and I can't help but notice how red and icy her skin is. I’m going to have a frostbite situation on my hands if I don’t get us out of here fast.
As Willow struggles to unwrap the bar and tries to sit up, I watch her closely, a flicker of concern crossing my features. Without thinking, I reach out, steadying her hand to help guide the food to her mouth.
Willow's eyes widen slightly at the gesture, but she doesn't pull away. There's a moment of silent understanding between us, a shared acknowledgment of the gravity of our situation.
I clear my throat, breaking the charged silence. "Eat up. We've got a long night ahead of us."
Willow nods, her gaze never leaving mine as she takes a bite of the protein bar. I can see the relief in her expression as the nourishment helps to ease her discomfort, if only slightly.
Satisfied that she's taken care of, at least for the moment, I turn my attention back to the shelter, packing the snow as tightly as I can to keep the biting wind at bay. The howling gale grows stronger by the minute, and I know we need to conserve as much body heat as possible if we're going to make it through the night.
Glancing over at Willow, I see the pain etched into her features despite her best efforts to hide it. She's trying to put on a brave face, but I can tell she's suffering. My jaw tightens with a familiar feeling - the need to protect, to make things right. It's a compulsion that's served me well in the past, but it's also a burden I've grown weary of carrying.
"How's the leg feeling?" I ask, my voice gruff but not unkind.
Willow swallows hard, her gaze meeting mine. "It hurts," she admits, her voice quiet. "But I'll be okay. I've been through worse."
I nod, not doubting the truth of her words. Olympians are a tough breed, and Willow is no exception. Still, the thought of her suffering needlessly grates on me.
"Here," I say, taking off my gloves, reaching into my pack, and pulling out a small bottle. "This will help with the pain. It’s only Tylenol, but it’s something."
Willow accepts the medication with a grateful nod, her fingers brushing against mine as she takes the bottle. I try to ignore the way the brief contact sends a spark of awareness through me.
"Thanks," she murmurs, her eyes locking with mine for a moment before she turns her attention to the task of swallowing the pills.
I watch her carefully, noting the way her brow furrows in discomfort as she shifts position. Without thinking, I reach out, gently placing a hand on her shoulder.
"Easy, take it slow," I murmur, my voice low and soothing. "Don't want you making that leg any worse."
Willow blinks up at me, a flicker of surprise crossing her features before she nods slowly. "I'm trying," she admits, a rueful smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.
I nod, my hand lingering on her shoulder for a moment longer than necessary before I pull away. The warmth of her skin lingers on my fingertips, a strange sensation that I find myself reluctant to let go of.
Clearing my throat, I turn my attention back to the shelter, busying myself with reinforcing the walls. The wind howls, and the snow continues to fall in thick, relentless sheets, but I focus on the task at hand, determined to keep Willow safe and warm.
As I work, I can't help but steal occasional glances in her direction, my gaze drawn to the way the dim light casts shadows across her delicate features. There's a vulnerability in her now, a far cry from the confident, fiercely determined woman I encountered this morning. It tugs at something deep within me, a protective instinct I've long tried to suppress.
"Reid?" Willow's voice, soft and uncertain, breaks the silence.
I turn to face her, my expression neutral. "Yeah?"
She hesitates for a moment, her eyes searching mine. "I...I'm glad you found me," she says, her words barely audible over the roar of the storm.
I hold her gaze, a flicker of something unidentifiable passing through me. "Me too," I reply, my voice gruff but sincere.
Willow nods, a small smile playing on her lips, and I can't help but feel a surge of... something. Relief? Admiration? I'm not entirely sure, but the feeling is foreign and unsettling yet strangely comforting all the same.
Turning back to the shelter, I finish my work, determined to ensure Willow remains safe and warm throughout the long, harrowing night ahead.
"Try to get some rest," I say, my voice low and soothing.
Willow looks up at me, her eyes wide. For a moment, we hold each other's gaze, the air thick with unspoken tension.
Then, with a soft sigh, Willow nods, her body slowly relaxing as she allows her eyes to drift shut. I watch her closely, my heart hammering in my chest. It's been a long time since I've felt this connection with another person. The thought is both exhilarating and terrifying.
As the wind howls outside our small shelter, I find myself acutely aware of Willow's presence beside me. The way her breathing deepens, the subtle shift of her body as she tries to find a more comfortable position. It's all I can do to resist the urge to reach out and pull her closer, to offer her the comfort and protection she so clearly needs.
Despite the danger of our situation, a part of me can't help but feel grateful—grateful for the chance to ensure Willow's safety and to be the one who comes to her rescue. This desire to shield and protect is a foreign sensation, but I find myself reluctantly embracing it.
I settle back against the wall, my eyes trained on the entrance of the shelter, my senses on high alert. Whatever the night may bring, I'll be here, ready to face it head-on.