Rivers Run Deep

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Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters related to Predator El, other unrelated human characters, and the character names of the predators Imade up, the concept of predator do not belong to me.



Authors Notes: This is a work of Fan fiction. please read on and enjoy.



WARNING: The following work of fiction contains, extream violence, course language (at times), sexual sudgestions, nudety, and explicit sex. If you are
under 18 (or whatever age is appropriate for your location), HIT YOUR
BACK BROWSER BUTTON NOW. If you find explicit sex offensive, please
don't offend yourself by reading further.



Author: Charlotte (jemstone5)

Email: jemstone5

Feedback: Please, yes lots.

Forward to others: would be flattered if you did.

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Rivers Run Deep



Chapter 15



All these months of surviving, all this time of pushing the grief away, it all came out. All because of a little ooman. How could he kill her? She knew him, maybe not in the sense that she was his friend, but a pain like this, that she shared, brought her closer to him that any prey for trophy ever could. He couldn’t kill her. He wouldn’t kill her. He’d keep her.


He felt her shiver in the cold wind, and he remembered her wounds. If he didn’t stop the bleeding soon, and get her some attention, she’d die. He moved and guided her to his arms, resting on the ground. Did she know how much danger she was in right now? Did she realize how much blood she’d lost? He touched her wound, if she reacted then she was aware, if not…he refused to consider the outcome.


She said something, he only understood one word.


‘PLEASE.’


It was what his ooman prey of the past had always begged right before he took their heads. It must have been a plea for mercy, for help. And help he would give. He reached around for his med kit, unsnapping it from the housing, and opening it up on the ground. The two males that were there, must have realized he wouldn’t kill her. They had joined him, and were binding her wounds as he readied the tissue treatment shot. This was going to hurt. Oomans were never meant to take Yautja medicine. It was far too strong. If she was too weak, she’d never survive it. He’d give her a small dose, see how she reacted to that. If worse came to worse, he could take her to his ship, he had far more advanced equipment there.


He’d save her. He had to.


He jammed the needle deep into her stomach, and injected just a small amount. Her body spasmed. That wasn’t good. He removed the needle, and replaced it to the kit. He’d have to take her to his ship. He had no choice. The fat male was shouting at her. She wasn’t breathing. Her face was contoured in a mask of shocked terror and pain. If he didn’t move fast, she’d die.


No. NO…HE WOULD NOT LET THAT HAPPEN!!!


He ran, possibly he ran faster than he’d ever run before. The two males remained, dumbfounded of his sudden departure with the female. But he didn’t have time, didn’t have time to explain what he was doing. Not to oomans anyway.


He reached his ship and went inside. He kicked the controls for his bed, and it slid out on the floor. He laid her down, and pulled out different tubes, securing a breathing mask over her face, switching the feed to oxygen. She was breathing, barely. He jammed the tubed needles into her arms, one into her neck, careful not to rupture the carotid artery there. He needed to get oxygenated fluid to her brain, and more of her blood to her body. The one good thing was the oxygen related medicine was similar to their plasma, and was harmless to oomans. He flicked the switches above, and watched the medicine move down the tube. The safety valve at the end closed, no air was in the tube, and no air bubles would get in her system. The medicine started into her neck. He then went to work on her wounds. They needed to be cleaned, the blood vessels needed to be sealed, and the skin needed to be closed. She would have massive scars, but at least the wounds would heal. Blood flowed once more, freely, from beneath the bandages. The treatment was beginning to work. But what was left of her blood, was leaving her.


He had to work fast. Carefully he rolled her over to her side, cutting the bandages off. He took out another syringe and began a gentle injection all down the insides of the wounds. Slowly the blood stopped. He cleansed them, removing the stones that had embedded themselves in her flesh. He reached up and removed the cauterizing tool, it was ready in seconds. He held the wound closed, and began to burn the skin. It held closed as he continued. He turned her over and repeated his work on her front side.


Both wounds now closed, he wrapped her leg again in clean gauze, making sure it was tight enough to give the recovering skin support as it healed. He removed his broken mask, and took out a scanner, running it over her body. The small dose of tissue treatment he’d given her was working. Her internal injuries were healing, and her cracked ribs showed to be half healed. The bruising would take a little longer to go away.


He heard panting, and turned to see the two males standing in the doorway to his ship. They were both obviously concerned about her. Why would he deny them access to her? He wasn’t going to kill her anymore. Cautiously he stood to one side, and waved them forward. The skinny old man entered first, and checked her pulse. Turning to the fat one he smiled, and nodded. The second man entered, and knelt to the floor where she lay.


Ver’on closed the door, and moved to the forward con. He’d take them back to the fat one’s home. The female only needed time now. She was stable, though he didn’t dare move her just yet. He settled his craft behind the building where girl resided, and reopened the door. They could leave any time, but the female would have to stay. He wasn’t about to give her up.






It was nearly five days later before she opened her eyes. She lay in her own bed, covered in a soft down comforter, a huge pillow, and lots of glasses by her side. Each one was filled with a different liquid. One was milk, another water, one orange juice, and one amber, that she surmised could be apple juice. She went to turn over, and found her body ached in places she never knew could ache. She whimpered a little in the pain.


Pain, yes. She was in pain. In more ways that one. She remembered someone held her, she remembered someone strong, and different. Did she dream it all? Or did it really happen? She went to sit up, and cried out at the searing pain in her leg.


Now she remembered. The guys, the four former students that Mr. Com had invited down. She wondered if he really knew what kind of men they really were.


From the bottom of her bed, she heard a clicking sound, similar to the Cast-a-nets of the flamingo dancers. At first she though of the hissing cockroaches of South America. Roaches of all kinds were escaping from pet shops all over the city, it was only a matter of time before her home became a statictic. The clicking came again, this time, followed by a hand, gently threading its way over the covers at the foot of her bed. It didn’t look human either. It was green, like a crocodile’s skin, with claws.


“Hello?” she whispered shakily, and the creature began to rise. The first thing she noticed were the amber eyes. Sad, worried, tired, and concerned all at the same time. She knew those eyes. She knew those eyes very well. “Hi,” she smiled, and reached her hand to the alien at the foot of her bed.


Just then the door opened, and Ralph came in with a tray. Then he saw the alien. He put the tray down and went to the big fellow. “No, you don’t,” he eased, helping the creature sit, when he refused to lie back down. “Very well, but don’t get too active.” He then went back to the tray, and brought over a bowl. It was filled with raw hamburger, with a shallow spoon sticking over the side. “Eat,” Ralph ordered, moving an invisible spoon to his mouth, and pointing to the contents of the bowl, then to the alien.


The alien waved him off, but obliged the man’s instructions, and began to eat. Ralph then turned his attention to El. “How you felling?” he asked.


“I’m sore, all over.”


“Well I’m not surprised. I saw what was left of the guys the next morning. Tommy will have his mouth wired shut for about 6 to 7 months.”


“Serves him right,” she scoffed.


“They made you angry, Mr. Com told me later, that’s what they were supposed to do. But they weren’t supposed to hurt you.”


“Did you know they were going to gang rape me?” she asked, accepting a bowl of his home made chicken soup.


Ralph shook his head. “Allen did say that they were saying things to make your mad or fearful so you would get mad. But that you never really went off till Kevin touched you.”


“I don’t like…” she paused, that wasn’t true.


“El? What’s wrong honey?”


“…I didn’t like to be touched,” she said the bowl shaking in her hands. Ralph took it away. Even in her sleep, she’d cried. Sometimes her eyes just refused to stop tearing. “…it felt so fake…” she cried again. Ralph tried to hold her, but he wasn’t sure how she would react. What he felt, as a friend for her, wasn’t fake at all. He wanted to hold her, let her cry on him, hell he was big enough. Suddenly, huge arms surrounded her, pulling her off the bed, covers and all, despite the huge man sitting on them.


Ralph looked over to see the alien rocking her in his arms, tears streaming down his quad limed face. He waved him away, patting his chest, then gathered the blankets around her. He was there for her. There was a connection between them. One he couldn’t quite understand. Whatever happened on the bluff, turned a blood thirsty killer alien into a comforting friend. He just wished he understood what that was.