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The sharp pain from Zoyas bite and the sudden impact from Jamie had caught the traitor off guard. the impact of the floor then the sudden stroke to the jaw really scrambled his brains. Al lit was not was who could get the gun. While the two mails strug;ed back and forth to get the pistol Zoya slowly uncurled herself from the safe feeling ball and she slid across the floor and she picked up the rifle Jamie had set down. She took it in her arms and looked down the sights at the two fighting. she could not get a clean shot so she stated the only thing she could think of that would get a pilot to move out of the way. In a small voice, just enouggh for James to hear she stated. "Check your six!" Then she pulled the trigger a few seconds later. the gun started to fire a fully automatic burst. To steady her aim at the time she had pressed her back to the wall and rested the butt of the gun against her shoulder, which hut tremendously. She does not let go of the trigger untill the gun clicked, letting her know the mag was empty, as for the guy, she didn't know if he was alive or dead, she had closed her eyes after firing and inhaled softly, focusing on fighting the pain that was so present. But at that moment she had made a small oath in her mind. From now on...no more whimping out...i'm tired of being scared...all the time. Fight the pain Zoya...prove your worth.

The voice behind Jamie didn't even make it through to his brain. His was a struggle for survival, that most basic of conflicts, and Jamie was reacting admirably. He knew that in unarmed combat, to get on top of the other person meant victory and life, to be on bottom, loss and death. Jamie wanted to live, and so he punched the man again, sending his head reeling back into tile floor.

The first round from the rifle took Jamie in the leg, as he had succeeded in that struggle to achieve top, and it woke Jamie to the danger he lay in now. The second round hit his lower back, missing the kidneys, tearing through the front, and hitting the man under him in the chest. Letting go of the man, Jamie rolled to the side just as the third round was being fired, and that saved his life, as fully automatic weapons fire, fired at such short range, will shred a man's chest like a shotgun shell. Jamie stood, wincing at the pain in his leg and lower back, and waited till the ringing in his ears went away before trying to say anything. Taking the rifle from Zoya, he placed it against the wall and hugged her close. "Shh, doll. It'll be alright. It'll be okay."

She feels him holding her and something else inside of her clicked, something se had never done in a long time. A small purr rumbled in her throat as her tail twitched softly before it draped its self across her lap. Zoya picked up the scent of blood, obviously, but not her own or her adversaries. She opened her eyes ever so slightly, lowering them so she could look at James. A small gasp escaped her lips as she whimpered softly. "I'm...i'm sorry. I didn't mean to shoot you...i'm sorry...."

Jamie winced at the lightning finding its way up and down his body. When wounded, the body triggers pain receptors in the brain, to alert the brain to the body's weakened state. Jamie could still fight if he had to, but only for about three seconds. Any longer than that, and a kitten had more of a chance to fight its way out of a wet paper bag than Jamie did. But what could Jamie do, other than what he had always done? Survive, and keep slogging forward. In that respect, Jamie was closer to a Marine infantryman than a fighter pilot, but Jamie had always been that way.

"Hey, shhhh. It'll be fine. Shhh, I'm fine. Shhh, mo chara, shh. I'm not that hurt. You only hit my leg and muscle in my lower back and stomach. I'm fine, mo ceann bán. I'm fine." Running a hand over her head, like petting a cat, Jamie used his other to try and keep pressure on the exit wound in his stomach. He couldn't keep it on both entry and exit, but he could reach the exit wound, so he kept pressure on that and did his best to ignore his leg doing its best to tell him it didn't want to bear any more weight. If I tell you to carry myself and mo ceann bán, you'll damned well carry us.

Idiot. Talking to your leg when there's a perfectly normal person in front of you to talk to.

Well, it's better than talking to yourself out loud. Then she'll think you're a nut job.

Zoya had curled into a smaller ball near him, her constant pain had been starting to fade as primevil neurons in her mind started to dull the sensations. She uncurled herself slightly and stretched her legs out a bit, stretching her toes a bit before opening her eyes fully. A new state had been taken in her mind. She was wide awake, her ears perked and her hear beat strong. She pushed herself from Jamies hands and stood up. "You are not going to bleed out on me James Ian MacRae. Not yet." She helped him to his feet and took what little bits of her shit off, leaving her in her bra. She then took his hand off the wound and quickly and firmly wrapped the cloth around it, tieing it in a tight knot. It w as time for her to take the lead like it was her job to do. "Come James. We have to get to a real medic. It's imperative,"

Zoya had always had a history of strange bouts of take charge attitudes. The lost all passion and went straight for the objective. It happened many times before, but only during crisis times. So Zoya, Looks like it's back to this. Primevil instinct and adrenalin to make you survive yet another excursion. Zoya looked around the floor before taking up a seemingly random full clip of ammo for the AK and she loaded the rifle. "Let's get moving...before one of us goes insane and gives up. You have saved my life and I am grateful. Now it's my turn."

"Ah. Who said I was going to bleed out anyway? I believe you're in more danger of that than I am. I just happen to be wounded. You can barely stand, let alone walk. Both your shoulders are hurt, and you expect to aim and shoot a rifle with any degree of accuracy? C'mon, hand it over. I managed to carry you and the rifle last time, I can do it again." The human body reaches a point where it can go no farther, yet force of will, or something, allow it to keep going. Men most often find that something on the battlefield, women in childbirth. But Jamie's body had not yet reached that point. But when it did, he would keep going. Scratching the stubble on his face, now itching fiercely, he reckoned it would be best if they did find an actual combat medic to check over what they had done, and then a surgeon to make sure they'd be okay.

Zoya looked down at the floor for a second, he had a point. Aiming would be a painful bitch. But she had to prove a point, she didn't quite know what point it was but she had to try and prove it. She shook her head and layed her ears back. "Nyet..I will shoot this thing for now. Im sure you have a gun of your own. Besides. I just shot you in the gut. I'd say you have a worse case that me..." that was a rough assumption, but one o her arteries had been nipped by the bullet and it bled on her insides. She was indeed slowly bleeding to death on the inside.

"Ah, horse crap. Give it here, mo ceann bán. I reckon if you're awake enough to stand, you're awake enough to walk. But I do not want you shooting a rifle. You're lucky you're even holding it. Now. The rifle, mo cheann daor. I'll not stand for argument. I am, after all, the least wounded." Jamie didn't know why he kept on with the Gaelic, as it sounded totally different than Russian, but at least it gave him a slight advantage in this social maneuvering. Any advantage at all was better than no advantage.

Zoya truthfully had not the slightest idea what he was telling her on that other language. but she had a feeling it was neutral or bad. She shook her head slowly. "Nyet Moi stalekii stvtok." she stated softly. "The gun you shall not have. Now let's get moving before we get caught off guard...After all. Can you really deny a lady her wishes?" she asked pouting slightly and batting her eyes playfully.

"I can if it's going to hurt you. I may be an officer and a gentleman, but a lady's honor comes secondary to the lady's safety." Gently taking the rifle, Jamie began limping down the hall, leaving a small trail of blood from his leg and stomach. You're obviously good at flying and fighting in the sky, doll, but you suck at this ground stuff. I may have said it before, but it's still just as true. I don't know about you Russians, but my American ass had to qualify SERE, and even Marine instructors quake at the thought of that shit. I re qualify that crap every six months. Survival, Evasion, Resistance, and Escape. SERE. Tough as the titanium to pass, but then you have to be to survive what downed pilots have been through. So, Zoya Kidrov, you'll keep the six position.

A small rowl escaped zoyas lips and her ears lie back a bit as James had started to take the gun from her. She clung to it lightly for a few seconds, keeping her thin fingers wrapped around it for a few more seconds before she lets go of the rifle and she let her arms slowly fall to her side. A small sigh escaped her and she looked to the ground then lies her ears back. "Fine...lead on. But If anything goes wrong. I'm taking the lead here....after all you are damn near missing a leg..." She grumbled that last part as she almsot hugged herself so she could keep tension off her shoulders, which were hurting like hell. Sure I may be useless on the ground. But I can assure you that i'm better than any other pilot in the skies...Besides i'm not too useless on the ground. I have a nack of being distracting. Look at me, I'm pretty much shirtless, in nothing but a blood stained bra. I find it kinky.

Wait you find that kinky? That's sort of sick... Especially considering it's yourself.

Oh shut it. Don't tell me you've never looked in a mirror and thought you'd have sex with yourself if you could.

No....I never thought that....

"Mphmmm. If anything goes wrong, I'll make sure to get right on giving you the lead." If anything went wrong, he was most likely going to die. But Jamie didn't add that, as it was cowardice. But then wasn't bravery being scared like everybody else, you just weren't affected by it or you got scared ten minutes afterwards? Jamie couldn't remember, but decided it didn't matter. What did matter? He wasn't wearing his dress blues. That meant he was at least comfortable while he was in pain. Asshole. Pain is better than being dead.

Maybe so, but at least you're not as badly wounded as Zoya is.

Oh you went there. Jackass.

Placing the rifle against his shoulder, Jamie moved around a corner swiftly and assuredly, noting that nothing was there. Which meant another small victory on the books for him. When small victories were the only kind Jamie could get, he took them. Better than no victories, after all.

Zoya had accepted the fact that for now James was going to lead this little parade into their next target which hopefully would be a medic of some sort, hell even a nurse would do. Zoya may have let James carry the automatic gun, she did swipe the silence pistol that the traitor had. She kept the small black pistol in her hand tightly, but she made sure to keep her arms crossed so she could hide it partially behind her. Her tail drooped behind her and dragged on the ground slightly behind her. The internal bleeding had stared to really take effect on her body and she started to weaken more and more, occasionally she would stumble to the left and bump again the wall with a dull 'thud'. She knew on the inside she was starting to fade a bit more. Keep it together Kudrov...Imagine what your squadron would do if you died...

I know what they would do dammit, don't you dare try and chastise me into living!

Jamie had heard several thuds behind him, but when he heard another, he turned and glared at Zoya. "At first, I thought you were wagging your tail and hitting the wall. But I had a cat that never stopped wagging his tail. The thud pattern isn't consistent with that. So tell me the truth. Are you stumbling and hitting the wall, mo ceann bán? I can carry you if I need to." Face showing concern, Jamie held the rifle down at his side, so as not to accidentally pull the trigger and hit himself or Zoya. Those sorts of accidents happened all too often, and there was nothing one could do about it except preach about gun safety and weapon precautions. Jamie knew all the lectures by heart. He had grown up in Colorado, after all. If there was one thing besides ranching he knew, it was guns.

Zoya shook her headd keeping her arms crossed firmly. " Nyet James...I am fine. Just keep walking. And please tell me we are close to a medic. I feel...I feel like my insides are leaking out of my wounds." That was a sure sign of here internal issues. She forced a small smile that sowed her blood stained sharp cat like teeth. "Get stepping please..I'm starting to get a bit more scared than I should be." She whispered softly as she averted her eyes to the blank walls, that's not the last thing she wanted to see if she died. She at least wanted to see the skies.

There were several things Jamie could have said. They all ran through his mind, but what came out of his mouth was totally unintended.

"Shit." It surprised him, but he thought about it, and he decided that yes, his feelings actually echoed that. Shrugging, he put the rifle down and took out his pistol. There was nothing for it but to carry her, he concluded. If she struggled, he knew he was stronger than her, even right now, and if he had to, he would sling her over his shoulder and carry her kicking and screaming to the nearest surgeon. "Shit. Okay, I'll carry you. I'll not take any arguing; I can carry you faster than you can walk." And it was true, but not by much. But it was true.

Zoya shook her head softly. "Ill kill us both before i let you carry me again." She growled softly before stepping back a bit, wincing in pain. but she was serious, she'd die before getting saved and helped a third time in one night by the same person whom she personally liked in a small way. She growled again and started walking forward, making sure to push past him slightly, making he way around a corner she found herself with a gun to her head. "Shit..." Thankfully she had a gun of her own, and as weak as she was it was easy for her to collapse to the floor and shoot the contact in the throat and in the chest twice. She lies on the floor looking at the ceiling for a moment ten she pushed herself up. "damn Chinese bastards..."