Back with *one of them saves the other* (I need a better name for this type of oneshot) 

Trigger Warning: Mentions of injury/blood, death, murder, abuse, rape

It had taken Andy six hours of walking, his backpack slowing him, to get to the forest. It was a hot day, as it had been for the past three weeks, and in the shade of the trees, he stopped to take his shirt off and stuff it into the top of his bag, pausing and lifting his head at a strange noise. 

To begin with, he thought it must have been an animal, but there was something in it that told him otherwise. Hoisting the straps back over his shoulders, Andy stepped off the path and moved slowly, following the sound, which, as he got nearer, struck him as that of a struggling man. 

He stepped over tree roots and fallen branches, watching his feet, stopping again to look for the source of the noise, and spotted a shoe, barely visible behind a thick tree trunk. He marched towards it, and as he approached, he made out rope wrapped around the same tree. 

Ducking under a low branch, he reached the tree, the sound now clear and horrifying. A muffled man was trying to cry for help. 

Andy took a few more steps and said sharply, before he could stop himself, "Jesus fucking Christ!" He stared, unable to blink until his eyes started burning. "My God," he said. "Fucking hell, who even...why...someone did this...someone did this to you? God, what am I saying, of course they did, you're hardly gonna do this to yourself. Fuck. Okay. I'm gonna...I'm gonna help you. Jesus." He dropped his bag beside his feet. 

The man tied to the tree was watching him with eyes so wide they made his face seem too small. His mouth was stuffed with a thick piece of cloth and duct tape was stuck over the top. He could easily have suffocated if he so much as got a bad cold that blocked his nose. His hands were bound to his sides, rope securing his arms to his torso. It was clear he'd struggled against the restraints for some time; his hands were covered in streams of dried blood, his eyes swollen and raw. 

Routing through his bag, Andy retrieved a bottle of water, pouring it slowly onto the seam of the duct tape so he was able to ease the tape from the man's skin without causing too much pain. It was a slow process, and after peeling the final corner from his cheek, Andy pulled out the fabric in his mouth, dropped it on the ground, and watched him take in a gulp of air, panting because of the heat. He would have been badly sunburnt if it wasn't for the shade being cast by the leaves above their heads. 

"Please..." His voice was so rough that it sounded like it physically pained him to speak, and it took Andy a moment to work out what he was asking for. 

Tipping the rim of the water bottle to the man's mouth, Andy held it steady as he drank, letting him finish the bottle before dropping it beside his bag and retrieving hi pocket knife. While he got to work cutting through the rope, he said, "I'm Andy. What's your name?" 

"Remington," he answered weakly, head hanging like it was too heavy for his neck to hold up. 

"You'll be just fine, Remington. I'll make sure you get to hospital. How long have you been here?" 

"Six nights. I think. Could be wrong." 

"Without any water?" 

"Mm."

Andy muttered, "Jesus." Then he added, "What is this, a cruel punishment?" 

"What? Oh. I...uh, I pissed a couple girls off, they got, uh, I guess they got pissed. As you can see." 

"What did you do?" 

"Not what you're thinking." He coughed a series of dry splutters. "Not rape, mate. Calm down. Don't come at me with that knife." 

Breaking through the rope, Andy folded up his pocket knife, put it in his pocket, and loosened the restraints until Remington fell against the tree, the heat and exhaustion pulling him down. "Good. I'd have tied you back up myself if that was the case. Oh, here. I have more water. And I'll see if there's signal to call mountain rescue, get you down to a hospital. Reckon you've got heat stroke as well as dehydration." He handed a full, open bottle of water to Remington, sitting beside him and turning on his phone. 

"Thanks." After two large gulps, Remington said roughly, "They assumed I'd want them, I didn't. They ganged up on me. Drugged me up, dragged me out here, left me. Fuckin' woke up with a banging headache and...this." 

"Jesus. That's..." 

"Fucked." 

"Fucked," Andy agreed. "The fact they would even come up with the idea of tying you up out here is quite terrifying. People are crazy, man. Do you want something to eat? I have loads of packets of crisps and energy bars and chocolate and stuff." 

"Please." 

Once Andy had found his supply of food and told Remington to help himself to anything he wanted, he called the mountain rescue, said when they answered, "I don't know how to say this other than that I've just untied someone from a tree where he was stuck for six days. Bluedale Forest. He's definitely dehydrated. Heat stroke too, I'm pretty sure. No, yeah, I'm giving him water and food, but I don't have that much. He's talking, not able to stand, I don't think. Okay." He proceeded to tell them to the best of his ability their exact location, was assured there'd be an air ambulance landing in a field nearby in twenty minutes, thanked them, and hung up. 

"Thanks," Remington said, opening a cereal bar. "I'm about to pass out, probably. I don't know. Fuck." 

"You'll be in hospital soon." 

"You'll come with me, right?" 

"If you want me to." 

"Please." 

"Sure." 

Remington took a bite from the bar. 

"I can't believe someone would do this to you. They could have killed you. How many girls were there?" 

"Only three." 

"I hope they end up charged for attempted murder." 

Remington hummed, leant against Andy, finished the cereal bar, asked the elder to open the water bottle for him, his hands sore and weak. He closed his eyes and let Andy tip the water carefully into his mouth, not opening them again until the loud buzzing of the helicopter grew above them. 

Only once he had seen the paramedics did he start to cry, the relief overwhelming him. He was safe.