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Algy couldn't move. He couldn't move, he could hardly breathe, and everything hurt. On top of that, he was sure he could taste blood; he didn't know if he hoped it was his own or someone else's.
He blinked, and tried to take stock. First of all, he could still feel all of his limbs. That was something. And at least he could open his eyes, even if all he could see was what looked like the underside of a staircase.
Stairs. Yes. He had fallen down the stairs. There had been rather a lot of stairs, down which he hadn't so much fallen as been tackled. And from the crushing weight on his chest, he surmised that the brute who'd done the tackling had come down the stairs right along with him. It was coming back to him now, his swimming, swirling thoughts coalescing and taking on some semblance of solidity. He and Ginger had been in the top-floor office, retrieving the last of the stolen papers. Biggles… Biggles had already arrested one man and was standing guard over him while Bertie fetched the Auster. There had been a second man, but they assumed he had got away; that was, right up until the moment he burst into the office from an adjoining room, wielding a knife and charging straight at Ginger.
Algy hadn't hesitated. He'd stepped into the goon's path and drawn his automatic at the same time, and the fellow had screeched to an almost comical halt, his broad chest less than an inch from the muzzle of Algy's pistol.
"Drop the blade," Algy snapped. He didn’t drop it, but turned tail and bolted for the stairs. "Get the rest of those papers," Algy instructed Ginger, and set off in pursuit. He'd made it as far as the first-floor landing when what felt like a freight train had thumped into his middle and driven the air from his lungs. He'd bounced off the wall, staggered, and thrown his assailant's balance off while trying to regain his own.
One of them had tripped over the other, and gravity had taken care of the rest. The chap on top of him—dear God, were his bones made of lead? Algy's chest felt like it was about to cave in under the pressure—wasn't stirring, and didn't seem to be breathing. Algy had no idea where his gun was; he must have dropped it. He had to hope the other bugger had dropped his weapon too, and hadn't buried it in one of the softer parts of Algy's anatomy.
Through the ringing in his skull, he heard the sound of running footsteps; he tensed instinctively in response, for all the good it would do him, before he realised there was a voice frantically calling his name.
"Algy!"
Ginger.
There was a grunt of effort at Algy's side and the deadweight abruptly vanished. Algy sucked in a welcome lungful of air, heedless of the fact that it felt as though his ribcage might crack apart with the strain of the sudden expansion. Quick, slightly trembling fingers loosened his collar and ran over his body, prodding and squeezing in a way that might have been distractingly pleasant if it hadn't hurt so much. He was still taking noisy, gulping breaths when a hand came to rest at the side of his face. Algy forced his eyes to focus, which seemed to take considerably more effort than usual, and saw Ginger looking down at him, face ashen and tight with concern.
"Algy?" he said worriedly.
"'m all right," Algy croaked. He considered trying to sit up but decided against it, settling instead for inclining his head in the direction of his erstwhile attacker. "He dead? Felt dead."
Ginger nodded, barely glancing at the lifeless body a scant couple of feet away. "Broken neck, looks like."
"Hard luck," Algy replied hoarsely. It seemed a bit of a callous response, but given that the man had been actively trying to murder him when he met his untimely demise, Algy was a little short on sympathy. He wiggled his fingers and feet experimentally, and was relieved to find everything seemed to be cooperating as it should. His breathing was beginning to steady, although his chest still ached like the devil.
"I was sure you were a goner… When I came down you were just lying there, and I remembered that knife…" Ginger's speech was feverish and rushed, and he was tripping over his words. "Jesus, Algy, I thought you were dead."
Without warning, he leaned over and kissed Algy on the mouth. And it wasn't a careful, gentle kiss. It was hard and urgent and desperate, and so unexpected that Algy didn't—couldn't—react. It lasted for a few long seconds and then, as if his brain had just caught up with what he was doing, Ginger pulled back with a jerk. He was breathing as hard as Algy was, and Algy could see the beginnings of panicked embarrassment rising in the familiar green eyes.
There was a smear of blood on Ginger's chin. With what felt like a supreme effort, Algy managed to raise a hand to his cheek; he tried to wipe the mark away with his thumb and only succeeded in spreading it. It went surprisingly far.
"Sorry," mumbled Ginger. He was twitching under Algy's touch like a cornered hare, split-seconds from flight. "I just—"
Algy shifted his hand to the back of Ginger's neck, and tugged him down until their mouths met once more. He might have been a little more forceful about it than he intended, because their noses bumped together and Ginger made a small startled mmph noise against Algy's lips. But now, now they were kissing again, properly this time. Algy forgot all about the throb in his head and the metallic taste in his throat, and the fact he'd be lucky if a few broken ribs were the worst injury he'd sustained in the fall. All he could feel was the insistent press of Ginger's lips, the sweet warm softness of his mouth, and the silken tangle of red hair sliding through his fingers.
There was a sudden cold draught, and they broke apart as the outside door slammed a short way along the corridor.
"Algy! Ginger!" Biggles called impatiently. "Why in blazes is it taking you two so—" Algy could just see Biggles's boots in his peripheral vision, striding quickly towards him, and then his face as he knelt by his side. "What's happened?" Biggles demanded.
Algy looked up at Ginger, who still looked shaky and pale despite the pink flush across his cheekbones. "I fell," said Algy simply. "Hard."