He could feel himself slowing
down. Getting tired. Sweat ran freely down his face. Dripped into his eyes,
making them burn and sting. The wound in his side ached. It wouldn't be long
before his strength began to fail. Before his weapon grew too heavy to
wield. Then all would be lost. If only help would come. If only...but no. He
couldn't think about that now. Either the messenger had gotten through or he
hadn't. Help would arrive or it wouldn't. In the meantime, Buck and his
sword were the only defense between the town and the bloodthirsty bandits
currently surrounding him. Grimly, he fought on, thoughts of the innocent
townfolk giving him renewed strength.
He cut a wide swathe through
the bandit corps. But it was not enough. There were simply too many of them.
No mere one man could be expected to defeat them all. Only one person was
capable of that feat. But so far she hadn't arrived. Buck had a brief
image of those piercing blue eyes and that long dark hair. Of being swept
off his feet by the possessor of those selfsame attributes. He was barely
able to dodge out of the way as one of the marauders attempted to take
lethal advantage of his temporary lapse in attention and disembowel him. He
decided he'd best keep to the matter at hand if he wanted to stay alive long
enough to see that image become reality.
He put up a valiant struggle.
But eventually he was forced to his knees, his sword ripped out of his
hands. He made sure that it cost them dearly, however. Which was why the
bandits had decided to slowly torture him to death, instead of just killing
him outright. He'd made them mad.
So here he was. Tied to a stake in the
middle of their camp. Wounded. Bleeding. Helpless. But brave. And noble. And
handsome.
"I'm not afraid to die. I only wish I could take more of you
with me." Buck snarled bravely to the leader of the outlaws.
"Just
don't hurt the villagers. At least let the women and children go." He begged
nobly.
And then he stood, looking devastatingly handsome, in spite of (or
perhaps because of) the various cuts and bruises adorning his face and body.
And there was just the right amount of blood as well. Enough to evoke
sympathy for his suffering. Not enough to be gross.
"Who wants to go
first?" The leader sneered as he swaggered up to Buck, knife held menacingly
towards Buck's face.
"Kiyiyiyiyiyiyiyiyiyiy!!!" (or something like that)
The familiar cry came from above before anyone could answer his
question.
As the bandit leader looked up in shock, the tall, leatherclad
figure of a woman came hurtling down from the trees. With one quick flick of
her wrist, Xena sent her chakram spinning in Buck's direction to slice
through the bonds holding him. He threw off the now useless ropes and
grabbed a sword from the nearest body. Bravely ignoring the pain, Buck
fought his way over to the warrior princess. They stood back to back, swords
flashing, and in minutes it was over.
"Good fight, huh?" Xena turned
around just in time to catch Buck as he collapsed from his wounds. She sank
gently to the ground, still cradling him in her arms.
"I knew you
would come. Now kiss me farewell, dear Xena." Buck gave her his best heroic
smile.
"Well, I was planning on kissing you. But it wasn't going to be in
farewell. You're not really going to die are you?" Xena's smile was
slightly wicked as she sat back and waited for Buck's
response.
"Uh...no. My mistake. It's just a scratch." Buck jumped to his
feet. "See? Good as new." He extended his hand to her with a hopeful
expression on his handsome countenance.
"I'm so glad you said that.", purred the warrior princess, as she took his hand. "Because you know how
much I hate to disappoint dear Gabrielle. And she's waiting for us in the
village. Upstairs. In our room."
Buck's legs were a bit unsteady as the
full import of her words struck him. Oh my God. It was a dream come true. It
was a once in a lifetime thing. It was...
"Time to wake up, Buck.
It's your turn to man the surveillance equipment."
Buck woke up with a
start. Damn! He'd been this close. Shooting JD a venemous look, he grabbed
the headphones and returned reluctantly, kicking and screaming, to reality.
Better luck next time.
The End
