Piece of Junk [[Closed RP with PuNk! ]]

[Victoria Adaline Clarke]

Location: On a base somewhere in England
Time: Summer, hot and humid.

Giving a swift kick to the broken vehicle in front of her, Victoria was pretty upset that she was left to herself to fix this rust bucket they called a jeep. Ughhh... she thought as she propped open the hood. Fix an airplane engine sure---add some oil to the spitfire---why not! But why a jeep of all things?? Growling to herself, the brunette pushed some locks away from her face as she tried to diagnose the problem. How the hell---how did the girls in her infantry break this thing? Did they not put enough gas, check for leaks? This hunk of metal shouldn't have broken down to begin with---either that or they were just piling on work they didn't want to do so they could go out to the pub for drinks or go dancing.

Victoria wasn't one for dancing anyway, so she could understand why they were using her to finish up their work. Regardless, at least they weren't trying to talk her into coming with them. "Found it." exhaled the young woman. Wiping her forearm across her sweaty forehead, a streak of oil was left in its place as she began to fix the jeep, "Bastards probably didn't change the damned oil, and there's something jammed in here---" paused the flight officer as she pushed herself further into the car,"Aren't there suppose to be mechanics??" she yelled into the open hood of the jeep. Half her body was already inside the car while the rest of her dangled out of it as she tried to find what was jamming the ignition of the jeep.

Really?? Did they do this on purpose???

Quickly, she slid to her feet with a frown plastered to her lips. A look of exhaustion with a hint of frustration was clearly written over the flight officer's face as she wiped her hands irritably with a cloth. 

[✚ Peter T. Brannigan]

"I-I-I need a break..." Peter weakly voiced to one of the nurses attending to a wounded soldier laying dormant in his cot. "But sir, we need you to attend to George--" but Peter waved a hand at her to stop her mid-flow in her sentence, giving a weak smile as he reiterated his words somewhat. "I'll be back shortly and I'm sure one of the other doctors can help you" was all he could muster as he hastily made an exit from the large field tent with an eagerness to his step; they were stationed quite close to the airfield in a bid to help wounded soldiers flown in straight from the frontline and so there were a lot of personnel around.

Stepping outside of the field tent, Peter quickly made haste in his steps and walked quickly to the nearest place of solitude he could find - spotting a hangar nearby that he knew was used for repairs, he worked his way around and slipped inside one of the small metal-sheeted doors to the side of the hanger, knowing it was usually empty at this hour when all the mechanics and aviation personnel went off shift and headed to the nearest pub or their officer's club for the evening.

Leaning immediately against the wall as he slipped into the hangar, he closed his eyes and began to measure the breaths he was taking in segments of small inhales, almost as if he was preventing himself from hyperventilating. His hands trembled lightly as he fought to undo the knot tied around his waist and remove the bloodied apron he was wearing; underneath he wore a casual shirt with rolled up sleeves and black trousers, framed with a black belt and silver looking buckle. Nothing fancy, he wasn't on the frontline and so casual wear was permitted in the field tents for doctors.

Dropping the apron onto the floor, he banged his head back against the wall he was leaning against and murmured something under his breath as he tried to compose himself. He wasn't sure what was happening too him, whether he was having a panic attack, suffering with post-traumatic-stress or just tiredness, but whatever it was, it was occurring more often and he found it a lot harder to hide. The trembling in his hands were uncontrollable as they shook ever so lightly, making him rub his hands together to try and calm the nerves and his breathing became dilapidated, as if he couldn't breathe, making him want to suck in more air - but he knew that was the panic setting in, he could breathe, he just needed to calm himself down and take slower breathes.

"C'mon Peter" he told himself, but then a noise in the hangar caught his attention and he suddenly realised he wasn't alone!?

[Victoria Adaline Clarke]

    Taking in a deep breath she rolled up the sleeves of her jumpsuit. The smell of exhaust and dust filled the young woman's lungs. Giving a hearty cough, she wiped the jeep grime against her pants---hissing slightly when she realized that the stain wouldn't come off that easily now. Her head spinning, Victoria felt nocuous at the thought of having her superior yell at her for being sloppy---such was a life of a soldier. Or at least such was the life of a woman soldier. She really thought serving her country would give her the freedom she wanted.

     It seemed as though joining the air force brought more restrictions than she thought, "I wonder what my brother would have done..." she thought out loud---probably cause a scene and make someone else who is more qualified do the job. A light chuckle escaped her lips as she thought more about her late brother. She could remember the day a soldier arrived to their door step. Their boots crushing along the pebbled path to their door felt like the world was slowly coming down around them. Those minutes seemed like hours watching them hand the letter of her brother to her father. It was the first time she saw him turn pale...the first time she saw him cry in anguish and the first time he held her tightly as if she may disappear if he were to let go. It wasn't until later she found out the letter said he was missing in action. Missing didn't mean he was dead...but to her father...he was dead.

     Perhaps everything would have been different if he didn't go missing...would she still be stuck in her family farm in Yorkshire? A slave to time caged within the far reaches of their fenced in property? Or would she still be where she was today?

     Who knows....Nathan was gone, as her father would constantly remind her. Then again, her father wasn't helpful so to speak---drunk bastard drank his feelings away once he knew she too had enlisted to help with the war effort. Maybe she should return home...her father wouldn't last if he were to lose her too----But really...was that going to happen? Victoria has never seen the front lines nor gotten a taste of battle since her enlistment. Grounded and stuck as she was before...she could feel the fence that kept her from the outside world close in on her again.

How was she going to find her brother...

      Groaning, she plopped into the driver's seat of the jeep. It wasn't going to turn on---not when there was something bloody lodged into the damned thing. Really...if she didn't know any better, she could have sworn the girls in her platoon did this on purpose. What were they aiming to get anyway? Sure yes...throw the rest of your assignments on to Victoria---why not! The lass has nothing better else to do tonight. Except sit around in her cot and listen to the radio.

      Well, they weren't entirely right nor wrong for the matter. That was all she ever did nowadays...what was wrong with wanting to be informed about the war? Hearing news of the front lines was what really kept the young flight officer going. She could never really understand them...while Victoria loved serving with them...it felt as if they were setting her up for failure. Whatever---to hell with it...

      Running her hand across her face she spoke, "Those cheeky----" she began, her brow twitching until she heard someone enter the hanger. Not paying any mind to it, she thought it was all in her imagination---that or some straggler was in the hanger as well and left to go hit up a pub. No one was suppose to be here at this hour after all....what could possibly-----C'mon peter

Startled, the flight officer nearly jumped out of her skin bumping into the jeep's wheel in the process and set off the car's alarm----nope she definitely was not alone anymore, but all the more...this was very embarrassing---how the hell did she set off the damned alarm!?

      "Jesus H Roosevelt Christ!!" she cursed, clutching her knee. Oh god---oh god...why---she was sure going to have a bruise in the morning. But oh god---she was in pain. Rolling on to her side, "At least the alarm works---..." she muttered, her voice lost within the car's noise as she laid across the seats. Taking in deep breaths Victoria clutched her leg till the pain subsided. Her thoughts immediately began racing, perhaps there was still time to escape---or hide.


[[ooc: -shifty eyes- ummm...hmmm...where did that curse come from...heh...QwQ ]]

[✚ Peter T. Brannigan]

Closing his eyes, Peter laid the back of his skull against the cold sheet metal wall of the hangar and began to control his breathing; his hands lightly trembled still, but he was starting to feel a lot calmer and from his self diagnosis, he knew he was either suffering with anxiety/panic-attacks or post-traumatic-stress from... Well... Both being on the frontline and bearing witness to the gruesome side of the war's reality. Either way, it wasn't good news and there was no real treatment, other than small rest bites to try and ease his wavering nerves at times.

Suddenly an alarm erupted in the hangar and Peter let out a small shriek under his breath as his eyes snapped open and his body went rigid, thinking he'd set something off accidentally or perhaps he'd tripped an alarm by being somewhere he shouldn't be!? Peter's eyes darted from left to right, looking around the hangar and he was about to reach for the door and exit quickly until he spotted movement coming from one of the vehicles a good stone's throw away in the hangar; a voice murmured and cursed, but he couldn't quite make out what was being said or bellowed from the individual as the car's alarm muffled anything from being coherent in the hangar - the god damn thing was making his ears ring as it echoed back and forth between the walls.

Peter was still about to leave, thinking he'd intruded and better be off without being noticed, until he himself noticed the individual in the vehicle rolling about in pain? Peter had a sixth sense when it came to detecting pain in someone, perhaps it was through experience or just reacting out of habit now? Either way, he knew something was wrong and without hesitation, his hand slowly let go off the door handle's cold embrace and quickly trotted over to the vehicle with a caution to his approach, not wanting to startle anyone and cause a 'miss-fire' so to speak. He'd heard stories of some soldiers being on the edge, drawing their weapons and pulling the trigger before someone could say 'boo to a goose' so he approached with caution. "Excuse me, are you okay?" he tried to voice over the vehicle's alarm, as he peered in through the window, looking upon a young woman laying sprawled across both seats, clutching her leg - no wait - knee. It was definitely her knee he noted to himself.

"I'm just going to..." he started to speak, but realised it was probably useless as he could barely hear himself. Reaching into the vehicle, he turned the ignition on so the motor started ticking over and the alarm immediately turned off. Glancing to the young woman, he turned the engine off again and cleared his throat a little as he opened the door to the jeep, kneeling down just outside so he didn't strain his back anymore looking in at her. Kneeling at the side of where her feet and legs were sprawled, he went to reach in and touch her, but soon realised he wasn't in the medical tent and dealing with patients he had full blanch to dealing with - no - this was an actively serving soldier, flight officer from what he could tell from the uniform, he didn't want to be rude or forthcoming. "Uhmm.. Are you.. Okay ma'am?" he asked softly, his hands slowly hovering out over her leg as he asked his next question "May I have a look? I'm guessing you've hurt your knee" he questioned once again in a soft tone of voice, perhaps it was a natural reaction to speak softly to those in pain, a calming effect, but Peter done it subconsciously now, he didn't even realise he was trying to give a calm soothing effect anymore - it was now embedded in his nature.

Looking into her eyes from his knelt position just outside the vehicle, he couldn't help but admire her as he waited for her to speak and let him observe her knee or tell him to bugger-off and get lost for trespassing. He knew it would most likely be the latter, as he suddenly realised he hadn't even introduced himself, he wasn't even in uniform! "I-I-I'm Peter, Doctor Brannigan by the way" he abruptly introduced himself, feeling somewhat embarrassed now a little... Embarrassed... That was something he hadn't felt in a long time.

[Victoria Adaline Clarke]

   An awkward ticking of the jeep's engine hushed the radiating sounds of the car alarm within an instant. The noise the jeep's motor gave off seemed nothing like it would if there wasn't something caught in it...however, that wasn't on the young flight officer's mind at the moment. A silence falling in the hanger as Victoria waited for her ears to stop ringing---the moment the other killed the engine, she felt herself freeze against the seat. Oh god...too late! Can't hide nor run...actually running would be difficult--perhaps briskly limping away was more suited----regardless, there was no use in trying to run away at this point. Someone had found her---thanks to the damned car alarm.

   Quietly the flight officer lay still, her breaths heaving slightly against her chest as her shoulder rose unsteadily to her uneven breaths. Keeping her gaze glued on to the space under the jeep's dash board she thought, Maybe they'll leave if I stay still and quiet.

   It was as if Victoria had been holding her breath, the awkwardness in the air was so thick it could have been cut through easily as butter. The door opened and her heart began to race,Oh god please just have her disappear for once? thought the brunette. At this point she was trying to barter or make a deal with some sort of almighty power just to get through this mess. Are you ok ma'am? Blinking, Victoria jerked slightly when the man's voice reached her ears.

   Honestly, she half thought it was her superior officer that came by to yell at her about the car alarm---followed by a ridiculous notion of Hitler probably hearing it from all the way in Germany. Heh...cheeky fellow her commanding officer was. However, this fellow's tone wasn't like her superior's...more so the complete polar opposite. She quietly noted how calming it was before attempting to prop herself up.

   Shots of dull pain rattled through her leg as when she moved, "Umm..I..." she began only to be cut off when the man asked to see her leg. She arched her brow at him in response, unsure who this civilian was or why he was here in the first place---let alone asking to see her leg. Was this some sort of new pick up line??? Perhaps she should have just left the jeep be and huddled in her cot for the rest of the evening!

   The flight officer's lips twitched slightly trying to form a response to politely decline his help. Like hell she wanted some stranger touching her, though her worries was soon put to rest when he suddenly introduced himself, "Doctor Brannigan." she repeated, trying to remember where she had heard of him. It certainly sounded familiar...where did she---Then it clicked, "Oh...you're one of the medics in the hospital near the hanger aren't you?" she asked.

   Clearing her throat, she awkwardly let go of her leg, "You've seemed to have caught me in a rather embarrassing predicament doctor...I...well..err...I'm sure I'll be fine. I'll be a little bruised in the morning..but, I don't believe I have any serious injuries. However, if you still feel inclined to check...I suppose I don't see why not." she said as she maneuvered her body do that she was sitting up.

   Her brown gaze settled on the medic then, her body seemed to relax as a breath escaped her lips,"Ah---umm...I'm Flight Officer Clarke...Victoria, Clarke." she replied almost too quickly. She held out her motor oil covered hand almost instantly before retracting it to wipe against her pant leg, "Ummm...uhh...sorry...I was working on the jeep...earlier...heh."

[✚ Peter T. Brannigan]

The flight officer seemed hesitant at first, but that was understandable as Peter had totally forgotten to introduce himself and he was in civilian clothing (minus the bloodied apron now) and approached her a bit forwardly; oops, no wonder he felt embarrassed! She probably thought he was after something untoward or very forthcoming...

She soon acknowledged who he was and mentioned she knew of him, or at least where he worked nearby. "Yes, I'm one of the medics - doctors" he replied a little shyly with his soft voice, listening to her as she began to sit-up and make excuses for not checking out her knee, that perhaps it was just bruised. Even so, Peter felt a little obliged to check nonetheless, more so as he remembered during his practicing as a Doctor a good few years back, how one of his fellow graduates at med' school knocked their knee on a table one-day, passing it off as just bruising it and clumsiness, but soon lapsed as cartilage damage to the kneecap and without appropriate care, soon required them to use a cane to walk around with for the foreseeable future.

Before he could insist on having a look, she introduced herself and held out a greasey hand that was quickly wiped down on her fatigues; Peter smiled genuinely and grasped her hand firmly to shake as he knelt before her still, looking up at her elevated position with his soft eyes. "Pleasure to meet you Victoria and don't worry, I've had plenty of patients who've been in more... Well... Pressing situations compared to yours" he joked somewhat, trying to alleviate any awkwardness or embarrassment on both parts.

Letting go of her hand, he bit his bottom lip a little and glanced to her leg. "Mind if I take a quick look? Just to be on the safe side, be sure you haven't given yourself any nerve damage at least" he said with his soft voice, which uncannily did seem a little too soothing, but Peter was genuinely just a kind soul and found it hard to be any other way inclined. Motioning to her leg, he sort off made a gesture that he was about to touch her and cupped one of his hands under her calve, his fingers coiling around her clothed skin as he placed his other hand atop of her knee softly, making sure he didn't apply any unneeded pressure that would hurt. "Just going to see if you've damaged your joint or dislodged anything, tell me if I hurt you..." he tried once more to reassure, as he lifted her left towards himself and moved it about side to side gently, before placing it back down. "So how long you been here...?" he questioned, trying to make small talk as he observed her knee.

After moving her leg about a little, he placed both his thumbs over her kneecap and wrapped his fingers around into her crease at the back of her knee and began to feel for any dislodged cartilage, he knew this part might be a little uncomfortable if she'd simply bruised it and awaited any discomforting noises to arouse from her as he wriggled his thumbs about her knee feeling for anything foreign that might've come loose or gotten dislodged; but everything felt fine from what he could tell through the clothing. When she walked, he'd be able to determine if her knee needed further observation. There was only so much he could examine through the thick fabric.

[Victoria Adaline Clarke]

   "I heard you guys were around...I just haven't had time to take a look over there...nor had a reason to..." her voice drifted off into silence upon realizing what she was saying. Well...nice going mrs. sensitive...she thought---mentally facepalming herself, "I mean..." trying to cover up what she said, she twiddled her thumbs awkwardly on her lap to try to change the subject.

   "Oh? Has someone set off a car alarm before?" she asked, her tone hinting slight amusement. Her rigid posture soon relaxed a little as the medic let go of her hand. Wiping it against her pant leg again, she felt her hand was a little sweaty if not definitely still covered in grease, "I...uhh..." she began as Peter directed his attention back to her leg. Honestly, he had fallen out of trees in her youth and had done her body far worse damage than this. However...the medic seemed to really insist to check her...regardless how many excuses she could spit out in one sitting.

   "I suppose it wouldn't hurt to have it checked? Better safe than sorry." she stated bashfully.

   Well...this was awkward---it was like reliving her physical exam all over again prior to enlistment. It took everything in Victoria's power not to shy away or at least jerk her leg away from him as Peter reached over to touch her calve. Swallowing dryly, Victoria found herself watching the medic work as his fingers gently brushed against her calve, "Ummm..." she began, the warmth of his fingers made goose bumps appear on the flight officer's arm soon after.

   Ahh---dammit Victoria concentrate. she scolded herself internally. Now wasn't the time to think about that---he was doing nothing more than his job out of instinct. Nothing more than that.

   Shrugging off the feeling she redirected her gaze off of peter and peered out the back window of the jeep. She sat in silence till Peter spoke up again. How long had she been at the base? Keeping her bistre gaze fixed outside the back window she replied, "For a while now...I suppose..." she stated as Peter began to move her leg a little, "I enlisted prior to D-Day to the Aahh---Jesus H Roosavelt Christ!" she blurted suddenly. Her voice cut through the quiet hanger like nails on a chalk board---stopping herself off mid sentence she felt an uncomfortable pain erupt from her knee as Peter wiggled his thumbs around.

   Yes---that was definitely a bruise. Wiggling her foot a bit, she fell back down on the seats covering her face with her hands. Ahhh---this must have been how it felt to Achilles when he injured his heel! she thought bitterly. Even though it wasn't her heel that was bruised, she related the pain that could have been felt by Achilles. To think a mere bruise could send someone like her begging for mercy---oh how her brother would laugh at her in this state.

   Taking a deep breath Victoria gathered her thoughts enough to continue her train of thought before being interrupted," Air Transportation Auxiliary...what about you?" She asked trying to continue with the small talk.
Oh god...did she sound awkward? Victoria wasn't very good at small talk to begin with.

[✚ Peter T. Brannigan]

As she cried out in pain, Peter immediately loosened his pressure on her knee and grinned to himself with shameful amusement at her cursing. "Sorry..." he murmured, as he looked up to her. "Least we know you're still alive" he joked a little dryly, which came across in his mind as quite funny, but most likely sounded a bit odd instead; oh how Peter knew to be awkward, he felt his eyes roll a little at hearing what he just said.

Clearing his throat, he slowly stood up and rubbed his hands together, noticing he'd gotten a smudge of her grease on a few of his fingers. It was weird to see his fingers another colour other than red for once, but somehow the texture felt the same as blood. Peter's mind spiraled for a moment as he stared at his hands, a mild wave of anxiety gripping him as he recalled a few flashback memories unwantingly for the briefest of moments. Shaking his head ever so slightly, he pushed the thoughts back, the feelings, the lump in his throat that was starting to form and riddle his mouth dry. No-no-no, he'd deal with blood on a daily basis, why now!? What was so different that caused Peter to momentarily spark an episode of... Panic... Anxiety... He couldn't tell what he was feeling anymore, but regardless, he pushed it all back and composed himself, hoping she wouldn't have noticed anything unusual.

Looking to the flight officer she'd flopped back against the seats once more; perhaps she didn't notice anything. "Oh right" he said a little shakily, but soon rectified his wavering voice as he spoke again soon after. "Transportation Auxiliary huh? - As for me, well, y'know... Here, there and everywhere" he seemed to shrug off her question, who did he serve anymore? Everything was blurred to him, all he knew he did, was patch people up and go where he was told to go. Sure, he was a Technical Sergeant, Combat Medic for the 4th Armoured Division, but did she really need to know all that? Peter didn't care himself anymore, he was just another person, endowed with the ability to stitch up wounds and fix people - well, some people. He didn't care for the war, he'd seen enough.

"You seem fine - I mean" What did he just say!? "I mean, your leg seems fine - from what I can tell" Peter rephrased himself, mentally beating himself up at this point. "Like you said, just bruised. If you feel any niggling or serious pain, then do let me know" he added, but by now Peter was going a slight shade of red, feeling incredibly embarrassed and awkward. The whole ordeal seemed to have gone into a very bizarre direction and Peter stood there, looking at her sprawled out in the vehicle and tried to avert his eyes. "So umm... I guess... I should..." But he didn't know what he should do!? At this moment in time, he felt like crawling under something and hiding.

[Victoria Adaline Clarke]

   "Right. Alive...was that suppose to be a joke?" she asked as she peeked between under her forearm that was draped across her face. Was it? it didn't particularly sound like one coming from him. Victoria continued to stare at him as she spoke up again, "I've heard a few people say that pain is your friend...lets you know that you're still alive." she stated absently.

   Clearing her throat, her gaze drifted off the medic as he stood up...ugh what was she going all dark for? He probably has seen more of his share of depressing situations. Probably far worse than she could imagine...then again what did she know? She had never seen the front lines...only the time she somehow landed the cargo plane on the beach. Was losing her copilot that day worth something? Who knows...Collin was gone. Given his life in the process to ensure she and the other medic made it to safety. Weren't they all doing their best for their country---more so in the fight for peace.

   Perhaps...

   Feeling as though she may have killed the light hearted conversation she redirected her attention to the ceiling of the jeep. Perhaps there was something interesting up there to possibly give her an idea of what to change the subject to. A small chuckle sputtered from the flight officer's lips as Peter seemed to stumble over his words. Perhaps it was a little cruel on her part but...she found it rather refreshing to hear someone speak to her as a person and not as a soldier.

   "Well, I'll be sure to let you know." she replied.

   It seemed as though the conversation was going to end on an awkward note after all. Peter continued to stammer a sound that all every civilian knew by ear cut through the silence. Something similar to what a fire engine's horn sounded except escalated by 10, "Air raid..." she stated as she sat up again.

   Along with the siren came the panic and shouts of several officers and onsite nurses and medics. Looking at Peter, she wasn't sure what to say, her body moved, grabbing Peter's arm in the process as she bolted towards the exit of the hanger.

[[ooc: short reply, will write more when the action begins. ]]

[✚ Peter T. Brannigan]

Standing there idly Peter watched the young woman remark on pain being your friend; something Peter knew all too well. Not just physical pain, but mental pain. A turmoil of emotions and feelings that just overwhelmed the senses, a dark cloud of pungent mist that blinded and fogged the way to any reasoning. Yes, Peter acclaimed to know pain. It was like a leech, a passenger, a demon, a friend... No... He had to shake the thoughts from his mind, he couldn't lose focus.

A distant droning engulfed the air around them, a buzzing, almost like a vibration running through every fiber surrounding them. Then the wailing of air-raid sirens began. Peter's mouth ran dry immediately, his body stiffened and his toes clenched at the sound of horror and sheer panic beginning to emit from out of the hangar's walls. He couldn't help but stand still, frozen in time. "Good god..." he exclaimed under his breath, before the coiled touch and grip of the young flight officer grasped his arm and yanked him almost involuntarily towards the hangar's main entrance.

Moving his legs he moved behind the young woman like a child being lead by it's mother, until he began to regain consciousness and realise what was happening; like a kettle reaching boiling point he snapped back into reality. Peter was here. Looking to the woman - no wait - Victoria. Her name was Victoria. His senses began to clarify and his combat experience kicked in.

As the pair of them ran out of the hangar he looked skywards as silhouettes of airplanes droned above; their markings discrepant through the clouded sky above, but they certainly wasn't Allied planes. Nearby FLAK guns began to spring into action as their gunners began peppering the sky with gunfire and pilots began to rally to their aircraft sporadically in order to get to the skies immediately. Pandemonium had broken loose and bodies were scattering everywhere across the tarmac of the runway, confused, disorientated and jumping to action.

Glancing over his shoulder Peter noticed a shaped blob growing closer as it descended from the grim grey clouds above with a distinctive humming noise through all the flak fire surrounding them. Eyes widening he immediately recognised it as a German fighter, it's sharp pointed nose drifting downwards as it's winged gunnery began sprouting fire across the tarmac attempting to hit anyone running out in the open during it's strafing run; snapping his grip free from Victoria's hand, he hastily wrapped his arm around her waist and in one swooping motion launched them both down the side of the tarmac to the runway, where they both tumbled and rolled down into a small ditch whilst a hail of gunfire almost exploded the ground around them both from the German fighter that seconds later roared overhead and back upwards into the sky.

Lifting his head from Victoria's chest he swallowed hard and stared at her as he breathed heavily, his chest pumping hard against her midriff as he began to realise the comprising position they'd both landed in. Peter couldn't even speak, as he lifted himself from off her body and began to check himself for wounds. "Are.. Are you okay?" was all he could say, but through the shock, he felt more embarrassed.

OOC: Sorry I kinda took control of your character a little at the end there, but you're welcome to do the same for anything in your post if you wanted to continue leading them both somewhere or something else occurs that you'd like to control Peter briefly.

[Victoria Adaline Clarke]

The brunette’s lungs began to burn as she desperately dragged the medic behind her. Her mind was racing, trying to calculate how much further the nearest bunker was. However, time and time again the thought did cross her mind of letting go of Peter would increase her chances of surviving this. While yes he did move, but he wasn’t moving fast enough---all the more, Victoria felt like she was pulling most of his weight along with her.

Mustering her voice she looked back at the medic, “Peter! Move!” she practically yelled at him. Her dark brown gaze hardening for a moment as she jerked him. As she said that Peter ripped his hand from her grip, her feet almost skidding to a complete stop. Whipping around, strands of Victoria’s dark hair stuck to her sweaty face as she stared back at peter, a mixture of fear and confusion washed over her pale features the moment he forced he left her grip. The young flight officer’s mind was so preoccupied with finding refuge; she didn’t take into account to what was happening above.

As the humming of the airplane grew closer---it seemed distant as the world around her began to slow down; the wind was suddenly forced out of her lungs, causing her to gasp as Peter wrapped an arm around her waist. The momentum of his sudden movements sent them both tumbling into a ditch as gunfire rained past them. The g force of the plane zooming past them blew loose debris around them before pulling back into the sky.

Victoria would lay there for a moment, her eyes squeezed shut as her body laid ridged against the ground. By the time she managed to open her eyes she found herself looking up at the sky, sweat dripping from her brow as she tried to figure out where she was. Busily trying to piece together how she got in the ditch, as she struggled to breathe only to feel a rather heavy weight on her chest.

Praying to god that she wasn’t shot, she cautiously she looked down. To her surprise---and shock, she found Peter face first on her chest. Her face instantly turned a shade of red when she realized how they were positioned. Though just as fast as he had grabbed her, he quickly scrambled off of her, before she could respond with a slap to his face. Taking a deep breath she sat up, diligently she began to pat herself down to see if everything was still in place and more importantly if she wasn’t shot. From what she could tell, she was fine for the most part…though she couldn’t keep her heart from racing.

The moment Peter’s voice reached her ears, she snapped to attention, “Ummm..I’m quite alright.” She stammered. Still unable to make full eye contact with the medic, she spoke again, “Thanks, I didn’t see that plane coming at us. If you didn’t pull us out of the way…I would have eaten led and more or less be lying on the tarmac.”

[✚ Peter T. Brannigan]

A numb tingling sensation swelled at his fingertips as he ran them across his torso, trying to feel for wet patches or sore spots; he even dipped his fingers into his various pockets on his trousers and shirt, as if to make sure he was all in one piece. "Ahh..." he softly winced having felt a sharp pain as he ran his hand across his left side, his once white shirt now embellishing a red stain that was slowly growing in size and circumference. Giving the stained area another gentle prod he winced once more, as if to confirm to himself that he indeed was wounded of sorts, but to what extent he wasn't entirely sure yet.

Looking to Victoria he watched as she arose and sat up, feeling as awkward as he did about their small tumbling endeavor and less favorable landing position. Although at least he had a soft landing, which was some comfort, despite now bleeding from a wound on his side - but that had to wait, this was no time to investigate the extremities of his well-being, they were still very much in danger and had to find somewhere safe to hide or even fight-back.

She acknowledged she was okay. That was a relief and Peter turned his body a little as if to hide the red stained blotch appearing on the left side of his body through his shirt. "Okay, let's get---" he started to speak, but another loud roaring noise whizzed overhead as yet another German fighter strafed overhead in a different direction to the last and opened up fire on the stationary Allied fighter-planes that the aviation crews were desperately trying to get to flight before they were all destroyed. Mere sitting ducks to the onslaught of the German luftwaffe.

"Victoria... We need to move" he sternly said, as if Peter was a different man in the thick of battle. He became somewhat more authoritative and less sensitive; standing he reached out and helped her up, his eyes darting left to right as he assessed their best course of direction. There was another hangar nearby, but the Germans would most likely target that as a priority. A Small radio-tower stood in the middle of the runway, but again, another prime target for the German pilots - Peter hadn't much of a choice in the end where to lead them as gunfire erupted nearby to them as yet another or perhaps the same aircraft from earlier strafed across above them and spat molten metal along the tarmac, forcing Peter to just pull Victoria along with himself, like she had to him earlier and began running once more to the nearest thing he could see, that so happened to be a small nest of sandbags with an empty FLAK gun in the center.

As they grew closer to the position of the FLAK gun and sandbags Peter noticed the dead gunner laying strewn on the ground next to the anti-aircraft gun; pushing Victoria down against the sandbags, he himself knelt down beside her in refuge and glanced over the sandbags to where they could perhaps go next. Everywhere was on fire, or so it seemed. Bodies, just dead bodies seemed to be everywhere as well. Along with debris and smoke. Nowhere seemed safe and Peter forced the pain in his side to the depths of his mind, he couldn't be in pain now, this was no time to be wounded and he had to stay focused. "I... I can't see anything" he said to her, the smoke was thick in all directions. An explosion in the distance just added fuel to the flames as an aircraft exploded, presumably a large one, perhaps a Lancaster bomber or a spitfire with a full tank of fuel. It was mayhem.

Slouching down against the sandbags he tried to catch his breath, but felt a little light headed from his wound. He tried to hide it from Victoria as best he could, but wearing a white shirt wasn't easy to hide such vibrant red stains, so he wasn't sure if she noticed or not. "We need to keep... Moving" he said a little weakly, hoping she could see somewhere for them to seek solace from the storm.

[Victoria Adaline Clarke]

Another gust of wind whirled overhead which made the flight officer press herself flat against the ground. Covering her head and neck, the sound of explosions----gunfire and roaring flames were accompanied by frantic screams of several personnel trying to get planes in the air echoed across the tarmac. She lay frozen to the dirt---fear gripped her like ice as her heart rate seemed to pound against her ears.

She couldn’t move---or actually she wouldn’t move….

As she struggled to keep herself together, it took her a few seconds---which felt like hours to make out what Peter was saying. By the time he said her name, an icy grip seemed to cause her stomach to drop as he said they had to move. Looking at his out stretched hand the brunette hesitated to take it, her hands still glued in place on the back of her head and neck for protection.
“I-I…” she stammered.

Her breath hitched as the medic seemingly pulled her to her feet, Victoria’s lips twitched for a moment as a poor attempt at protesting this suicide feat. With no audible words besides a whimper escaping her lips, she was ultimately dragged along. Trying to focus her gaze on Peter’s back---her knuckles turned white as she practically was squeezing the life out of Peter’s hand. Her eyes darting in all directions as the planes went up in flames around them.

She couldn’t think straight----…while Victoria longed for a taste of battle in the front lines---or a shot at being the one to find her brother…she did not expect to experience it so soon, especially after D-day.

Everything seemed to pass in slow motion, before she came toppling over a few sand bags. Hitting the ground hard, the flight officer coughed as she sat up. However, as she looked up, this wasn’t the scene she was expecting. Victoria too noticed the mangled body of the gunner, the color from her features quickly drained. Images from her first mission on D-day instantly came crashing back to her like a ton of bricks. She remembered how her co-pilot was shot---the plane crash---the flames and the heat that licked her skin and the pain that came with it.
The man’s mouth hung ajar…at least what was left of it---blood and splattered---wait was that piece of brain matter? Covering her mouth to suppress the scream, Victoria felt the acidic bile rise in her throat.

Shoulders heaving as she was pushed up against the sandbags by Peter--- unfocused she practically ignored what Peter was saying before he slouched down next to her. Victoria’s free hand quickly sought him out, her fingers curling into his sleeve as she took shaky breaths, “I-I know----….” She began, her eyes settling on Peter for a moment. Her brows furrowed forward, as her eyes were instantly drawn to the growing red stain, “H-hold on a second. Peter. You’re wounded?!” the moment she spoke, she felt the fear loosen its iron grip on her. Her teeth grinding slightly as she moved Peter’s hand away from his wound, “We can’t possibly think of moving if you’re running around with a wound like that!” she practically barked at him. Placing his hand back on to his wound she looked around for something to stop the blood.

Granted Victoria was less than qualified to treat a wound----hell, she didn’t even know what she was doing besides the basic first aid treatments. “Here you are worrying about me when you should have been worrying about your damn self!” she growled as she took her pocket knife and began ripping off strips of her fatigues to make a make shift bandage, “Tell me what to do and I’ll do my best to execute it as best as I can.”