kldubois

[kldubois]

Contrary to what it may seem, I haven't fallen on the face of the earth. I've been busy and not just with work. I have a semi-new project and my life has been consumed with research. It's rather depressing at times because all I'm reading about is children's experiences in war and how countries slowly turn into dictatorships and the course of current US politics. There's so much stuff swirling around and I still have more to read because I found some great books at a bookstore last week that will help so much. I'm really excited about the project and can't wait to get the outline together so I can start writing. I thought I'd done a lot of research on other writing projects but this is just so overwhelming because it's something that I don't know personally so I have to read a lot. I'm loving it. I haven't read this much since I was in grad school and I really missed it.

[kldubois]

Lessons in Looking 18/?

title: Trust

words: 1291

tw: torture, violence towards women, needles, medical torture, conditioning

She knows that something will be different about this visit when master and Iris come together. He tells her to sit in a chair he orders a man to bring in. She sits without question.

“Put out your arm,” he says. Iris stands next to him, hands in her coat pockets. Though Evie’s been treated by Iris since she took blood, the sight of her and the white lab coat manages to make her heart pick up a bit, but his commands help to calm her some. She just has to listen to him and everything will be fine.

Evie puts her arm out, resting it against the armrest like he instructs. He nods to Iris, who steps forward and rolls up her shirt sleeve. Evie got new clothes last week as a reward for passing his latest test. She likes how much warmer they are than her last clothes. She tries not to flinch when Iris touches her, but she can’t help it. At his stern gaze, she takes a deep breath and works to steady herself. Iris runs a piece of damp gauze over the crook of her elbow, the same one she took blood from, and when Evie’s nose catches a whiff of the scent of the wetness, she can’t help her body’s reaction. Her pulse and breathing quicken; she feels flush with heat and every instinct fights her instructions to stay put.

“Listen, little girl,” he says and Evie stops fighting, even though her heartbeat and breathing still increase. “Now, we talked about this, didn’t we. This trust thing, right?”

She nods.

“Words,” he snaps.

“Yes, master,” she says obediently. “I trust you. You only seek to make me better.”

“Good girl.” He nods and she feels relief and pride. Iris examines the veins in her arm. Each time her fingers ghost over an area on her skin, then pressing and prodding until moving on to another spot, Evie holds her breath. She keeps her eyes focused on him and his contented look. She is making him proud.

Finally, it seems Iris is content and stops prodding her elbow. It’s then that she draws a needle and small glass bottle from her pocket. With practiced ease, she flips the plastic top off the needle and presses it into the bottle to draw in some of the liquid inside. Evie watches at she taps against the syringe, seeing not the liquid inside but the needle seems to grow in front of her eyes. It can’t have been that long before she filled it with liquid.

Evie wants out of there, away from the needle as it inches closer, but master has commanded that she stay there. He’s told her to trust him. And she does, but the needle is growing in length and her heart is pounding against her chest hard and fast so that it aches. Without thought, she flies out of the chair when the needle is no more than a half-inch from her. The sharp tip drags across her arm, drawing a thin line of blood. In her panic, she doesn’t feel it.

First, she feels relief as she sags in the familiar corner next to her shit bucket, clutching her legs tight to her chest. Her chest still hurts and her heart still beats fast and she can hardly catch a breath until she looks at master. Arms crossed, legs spread shoulder width, and face stern, he looks ready to tear into her as he hasn’t ever before. She wants to get back in the chair, she knows she should, but she can’t. Her body refuses to move.

She could count the time it takes him to react if her mind was capable of counting. Between her building fear of him and panic over the needle that was still being held rather ominously by Iris, coherent thought has gone and she’s left staring, pulse and breathing still fast, sweat building in her clean clothes.

She doesn’t see him do anything, making a move or utter a word, but suddenly two men are on each side of her, pulling her to her feet and to a familiar chair. She’s been in it before and it’s never pleasant. A modified dentist’s chair, she is quickly strapped onto the metal seat, from the legs all the way to her head. She knows she won’t be able to move; she never can. Panic builds as they strap her down because she knows she’ll be getting the shot. Master always gets what he wants.

“No,” he says when one of the men goes to put something in her mouth. It looks like a bite or something but she can’t be sure in her growing panic. She can’t move save for her heaving chest. It allows Iris the steadiness to inject her with whatever was in the little bottle. Evie can’t see the needle but that almost makes it worse. Unable to see it, her anxiety builds until the needle pierces her skin and she can feel the contents flow into her vein. It’s cool, nearly icy at first and then it burns. Her veins are burning, first in the arm, then her chest to her other arm and down to her legs. From the veins, her nerves alight and her bones ache deep within. She thinks she might scream from the overwhelming pain but it’s impossible when you lack the air to breathe.

Her mouth fills with liquid, blood she vaguely thinks by the taste. Some dribbles down her throat and some out of her panting mouth, rolling down her chin as master watches. The others are gone.

If she could, she’d go to her knees in front of master and beg his forgiveness. She’d shine his shoes with her tongue if he would just release her from the chair. She’d forever obey him no matter what he asked.

“I can see the forgiveness in your eyes, little girl. Do you really think you could do anything that would make up for not trusting your master?”

She hadn’t thought of that. Evie shakes her head.

“Words, you worthless bitch.”

Evie tries to speak, to even make a groan that master might count but she burns and aches to her very core. It’s a pain that grips her heart and never eases. Maybe she’ll simply die right here.

“I should just go find someone else since you can’t get this.” Master starts walking away, scoffing loudly.

“P…pleas’ m… ma’t’r.”

He stops but doesn’t turn around.

“An… any’ing, mast’r.”

“That’s my good girl.” He turns back around and steps closer to her. “You have two choices. There is an antidote that will stop this, a simple drink or you can endure this as it runs its course and prove to me your trust.”

“Trust,” she says. There’s no question in her mind. To prove that she trusts master, she will endure.

“Good girl. I knew you would make the right choice.” He stays through the entirety of the drug’s course, a length of time she doesn’t know. She stays strong for him, keeping in her misery as best she can. Breathing, real breathing that’s steady and deep, comes eventually and with a ragged inhalation that burns through her lungs to her ribs and further. She doesn’t want to take another but master is there so she does. And she keeps going as the drug finishes attacking her body.

The ordeal leaves her sweaty, exhausted, and weak. When the men return to take her out of the chair, she’s no help, falling into a careless heap as they dump on her usual spot. They take the chair and as master is leaving, he turns to speak.

“I’m proud of you, little girl.”

[kldubois]

Lessons in Looking 17/?

title: Submitting

words: 1018

tw: conditioning, torture, violence towards women

He is mad, Evie knows this from when he came in and held her down to have the wound cauterized with his brand. She knows that the next visit from him would hurt but he doesn’t come. She counts high and he never comes. Food, a small cup of rice with some bland black beans that she had to eat with her hands comes seven times and each time the amounts grow smaller. Maybe he has ordered her to be starved. She deserves that for fighting when he was just trying to help. And she deserves it now. She calls out for him to come.

“Please, I know that I’ve done wrong. I will behave from now on,” she says, voice low despite yelling. Her throat is still bruised from his hands, though the pain is finally fading. “I accept.”

He doesn’t come after that and she’s sure he’s forsaken her. The food grows less and less. At first, her stomach protests the increasingly small portions but becomes accustomed in time. How much time she doesn’t know. She stopped counting when she started pleading.

His arrival is signaled by sudden darkness interrupted by a steady sliver of light around his frame as he enters her cell. Two men follow behind him with items she can’t yet see. But she smells food and her stomach growls loudly in the room. He chuckles, a light, warm noise.

The men leave once they’ve set up their items, shutting the door but when Evie expects the room to fall into darkness again, the lights turn on at a normal setting. Still, it makes her flinch as she slams her eyes shut. He snaps his fingers as he chuckles again and the light is dimmed.

“Open your eyes,” he says. She hesitates, unwilling to feel the stabbing pain again. “Open your eyes,” he says, sterner this time. “Or have you lied to me about being ready?”

“No, sir. No.” She’s quick now to open her eyes and glance up at him so he can see.

“That’s better. Now, do you wish to learn something today?”

“Yes, sir.” She doesn’t hesitate in her response.

“Good.” He pauses for a second. “Now, let’s talk about how you address me. You are my student, so what does that make me?”

“My teacher?”

“Close.”

“M… master?”

“Correct. Now, how should you address me?”

“As master.”

“Good girl but, as you know, there are consequences for wrong answers.”

“Th… there are?”

“Are you ready to learn?”

“Y… yes, m… master.”

“Come here then.”

Evie stands carefully, wobbling as she gets to her feet. Her first steps are equally unsteady; it’s been a while since she has moved around much and walking, let alone standing is a challenge. He’s patient though, beckoning her to keep moving. She stands in front of him, looking at his still-masked face as he looks her over, examining her in a way she can’t him and he never seems to have her. She tries to follow his gaze, looking down as he looks down further on her, but he lifts her chin roughly.

It’s an agonizingly long time before his eyes meet hers again. There’s a brief pause before the unexpected hard slap that snaps her head to the side and sends her to her knees.

“On your feet, girl,” he says gruffly. When she hesitates, finding the hit had rattled her more than she thought, he grows angry and grabs her shoulder, digging his fingers in as he pulls her upright. “You listen and obey, no matter what.”

“Yes, sir,” she answers quickly, cringing as she realizes her mistake. “I… I mean, master. Yes, master.”

He doesn’t make a noise, which is perhaps most terrifying because it reminds her of before. She goes silent herself, dropping her head in hopes that submission will placate him. It doesn’t, not until he takes her by under her arm and flings her across the room. She slams into the wall, her side hitting hard enough that she feels her shoulder dislocate. Dazed and pained, she falls back to the ground with no direction and smacks her head against the concrete floor. It makes the pain and discomfort she already feels worse. She rolls her head to the side, slowly opening her eyes. He stands above her, feet on either side as he reaches down to pick her up, throat first and slam her against the wall she just hit.

She opens her eyes, feeling nauseous and faint as her head pounds beyond reason. His large, calloused hand is still around her throat, even as her head lolls to the side from having passed out. He smacks her head roughly so that it rolls to the other side and then, after a long pause, does it again so that it rolls back. How long this keeps up, she doesn’t know, but she’s sure that she passed out again and just manages to swallow bile a handful of times. She just wants to be let go, to lie back down and curl up until her head stops aching, but he won’t stop. He just keeps hitting her head like a tetherball, back and forth.

“P…please, master,” she says weakly, voice so low she can barely hear herself.

“Good girl.” He smiles and pats her cheek. Suddenly, he releases his hand and she collapses to the ground, unprepared to support herself.

“On your feet,” he says and she doesn’t hesitate even though she sways. The room spins and her stomach roils as her vision turns black. As she steadies herself, he goes back to his seat. “Have a seat.” He gestures to the chair on the opposite side.

Sitting isn’t much better than standing because without armrests, she still has to support herself, but she does.

“Good girl. Now, we can begin.” He pulls the cloche off the tray, which is laden with every sort of rich, heavy food she could imagine, food that she hasn’t eaten in a long time, since before she came here. With a single word, he pushes it to her, “Eat.”

And she does.

[kldubois]

Lessons in Looking 16/?

title: A Kind Touch

words: 1289

TW: violence towards women, needles, branding, torture, conditioning

Her name is Iris and Evie likes her. Today Iris has her strapped into a chair, but Evie doesn’t mind. Iris looks out for her, treats her injuries, makes sure that the guards don’t tie the bindings too tight when she sees to the cuts and burns. For all of this, the lights are turned on, too bright at first but Iris makes them turn them down.

Evie recognizes the equipment Iris pulls out but it’s new to the routine. She’s never taken blood before. She’s injected things into her, medicines as Iris explained. The explanation is always quick and simple. Evie likes that because she can’t focus like she used to. Her thoughts flee quickly or she can’t fully grasp what she’s thinking. At first, it unsettled her, but Iris said it was a side effect.

“This’ll be quick and easy,” Iris says cheerfully as she sets up the equipment. Evie thinks the elastic band is too tight, but it must mean to be that way. Iris wouldn’t hurt her. Iris wipes a clean spot in the crook of her elbow even though her whole arm has already been cleaned thoroughly. Then she pulls out a needle that looks bigger than necessary. As the needle inches closer to her skin, she reminds herself that Iris wouldn’t hurt her. She repeats the single sentence, trying to calm herself as she forces herself to breathe steadily. It doesn’t work and the second she feels the too large needle pierce her arm, she bucks against the restraints. Her arm burns as the needle rests just a little in her arm.

Iris calls for help and Evie finds herself tied tighter and with more straps to secure her. A couple more across her chest, tightened enough to make breathing difficult and then another on each limb and one around her neck. It makes moving near impossible and seems a little excessive, but Iris knows what she’s doing. The needle starts moving again and she can feel it; it burns in her vein. When she tries to scream, to make a noise out of her bruised throat, she’s quickly gagged.

“We can’t have you disturbing others,” Iris says with a slight smile. “You’ll get used to it soon enough. Everyone does.”

Evie swallows, tasting the dirt and staleness of the gag. She nods, understanding Iris’ concern. The needle stops moving and while the site still hurts, she finds she can manage it. It’s not the worst she’s had and Iris wouldn’t do anything to hurt her like he does. When Evie looks at her arm next, the tubing is attached blood is flowing out. Evie doesn’t know how long she sits there with blood draining away from her, but the effort starts taxing her. Her head begins to ache, dull at first behind her eye but then it grows and with it nausea and lightheadedness. She tries to signal to Iris that she’s not feeling good. Iris will know what to do, how to make her feel better.

“It’s normal,” Iris says, smiling brightly. She runs a hand through Evie’s greasy hair, the feeling is comforting, but it doesn’t stop the growing ill feeling. She starts pulling against the bindings. She wants out of this chair and to go back to her spot on the floor where she can lie down and curl up. Then maybe this will go away. Maybe she’ll start feeling better.

Her arm flashes with pain as she feels the needle move and she stops fighting, breathing hard as the pain slowly fades.

“You can’t move while that’s in there,” Iris says, moving from her side to kneel in front of her. “You’re hurting yourself. Understand?” The placating tone makes her voice soft and warm.

Evie nods, wincing at the pain the movement ignites in her head. She understands Iris but she is steadily feeling worse. Her vision is darkening and her stomach rolls. She wants to throw up but works to keep it in because the gag is in place and she knows they won’t remove it until they’re done. Hearing is the last to go, the little bit that she can hear from the one ear.

She wakes in dazed, fuzzy spurts. Her head still aches and in her brief waking moments, she wonders when Iris left and what happened after she passed out. When she passes out when he’s around, he waits until she comes too again to hurt her worse. That’s never happened with Iris, but then she’s never passed out with Iris. Evie guesses that she doesn’t like it because she’s been left with her legs bound and one arm, the one that they took blood from, chained to the wall such that Evie can’t move off her side without pulling the arm from its socket and she knows that dislocations are not as fun as TV and movies portray them. There’s a bandage taped around her arm and bruising that peeks out from the edges. It’s colorful and she imagines that from the pain radiating from the site, the bruising under the bandage is worse.

Feeling her headache increasing and nausea return, she closes her eyes, hoping that with a little more sleep she might feel better. The lighting is back to normal when she does wake again. She’s a little more with it but the headache and nausea are still there. She’s used to them now though and she can put them aside. Chuck tried to teach her that but it never worked. He called it compartmentalization. Fancy name for a simple thing, she thinks. She wonders if he’d be proud of her. She hasn’t spilled a single secret but then they haven’t asked anything. Iris is the only one who speaks to her. No one else says anything in earshot of her.

She twists unconsciously, trying to turn on her back but the movement pulls on her chained arm and ignites the draw site again. With a groan, she pushes herself upright and collapses back on the floor, coughing and dry heaving as nausea and lightheadedness overtake her. Her arm burns and she feels something wet trickle down.

In the middle of this misery, of her vision graying, the dry heaving, and her head pounding like a jackhammer, he bursts in the door and the lights shine so bright she is momentarily blinded. He blindfolds and gags her before picking her up by her neck, his favorite way of handling her lately. The chained arm is quickly freed and then she’s roughly shoved to the floor where he plants a knee and shin firmly on her abdomen. The rest of her is pinned to the floor by other people with her injured arm pulled out roughly and the bandage ripped off.

She squirms as she feels the heat of a familiar device drawing near: his branding iron. His leg lifts briefly, enough so that he can slam it back on her, knocking the air out of her and as she’s trying to recover, the burning is already taking place.

She doesn’t know what it looks like exactly but she can feel the pattern and she hates the idea of wearing his mark for life. Every time he uses it feels like it’ll never end and she wonders how much more she can take. Then it’s done and as quickly as they came, they’re gone, taking the blindfold and gag, leaving her to curl on her side around the burning arm as she can’t bend it with the burn on the crook of her elbow, wondering if anyone is even looking for her because she’d like to leave or at least have another visit from Iris. She’d like to see someone nice.

[kldubois]

Lessons in Looking 15/?

title: The Cycle

words: 942

a/n: This is where it gets dark folks. If you don’t like dark stuff and torture, then turn around now because it doesn’t get better for a while. If you opt to continue, then please read the trigger warnings and if there’s something that I don’t note and you need me to, then let me know.

tw: torture, physical and emotional violence against women

All she knows is that it’s a man who comes in. The mask obscures everything, including his mouth. He never speaks. She barely even hears him breathe. She’s tried to time out his visits. She counts because doesn’t have a window. But maybe she falls asleep or loses consciousness, she has taken a lot of hits, some of them to her head, because he never comes at the same time. Each time he leaves begins a new cycle.

She can’t see him coming. She can’t see anything but she can feel, or could. Bright lights flash for seconds at intervals long enough to keep her eyes from adjusting. It’s done more than just effectively blind her. The snarkiness disappeared quickly. The cell is small, no more than six foot by eight and cold save for the space on the floor where she’s laying. All she has is the clothes she was taken in and a bucket for a toilet. Asking for a blanket got her food taken away for eight cycles. She is starting to feel her ribs.

He comes when the door opens and it’s only then that the lights shut off completely. The light is blinding and makes her cower away. When the door closes, with a dreaded carefulness, he stands in front of it, waiting for something she can’t figure out. In the beginning, she asked, pleaded to know what he wanted, and offered just about anything to be set free. She doesn’t bother now, can’t even if she wanted to.

When he’s ready, she doesn’t hear the footsteps. She used to, but a series of hard hits to her head made her ears explode in pain and then she couldn’t hear. It’s always the first hit that tells her he’s ready and it’s never the same method.

Today, he’s using his fists. He likes using his hands. She prefers it over the bat, the whip, or the knife. There might be other things he uses but her mind has grown fuzzy lately.

He drags her to her knees by the hair and punches her stomach as soon as she’s upright. His hand still in her hair, she can’t even bend over to try to ease the radiating pain or catch her breathe. A smack to her cheek makes her head twist on reflex and pulls at her scalp. She fights against the grip which makes him twist his hand in her hair and force her back against a wall, her head roughly smacking against the concrete walls. She blacks out and when she comes to, she’s still held there, feeling his hot breath on her cheek. She instinctively slows her breathing as if she could avoid detection. She imagines he grins behind that mask at her stupidity.

After a few more slaps to her cheeks, he forces a leg between hers and pushes a knee up against her aching chest. Then he lets go of her hair, once the single knee has her pushed firmly against the wall.

She gulps because this is a closeness that hasn’t happened before. As much as Marla and the others might think so, she’s not stupid. She knows exactly what could happen now, what could happen at any time.

Calloused, thick fingers push her ragged, dirty shirt off her shoulder, a move at which she buckles but he rams his knee into her solar plexus, knocking all air out of her.

As she’s working to find it again, her shirt is pushed to her shoulder and then something pushed onto her body, just above her right breast. Milliseconds later she buckles and tries to scream in pain. The grip doesn’t loosen though and then, in the middle of her terror, she smells a burning that turns her stomach because it is herself on fire. She vomits on him because where else was she supposed to, he was right there. To her surprise, he turns her head with his other hand so she vomits to the side.

When he’s done with her shoulder, he lets her go, standing back so suddenly that she collapses, landing in her own vomit. She thinks he might let her be, that maybe he’s tortured her enough. He waits long enough before he comes back at her, a hand going to her throat, adding to the bruising that’s already there, using that grip to hold her off the ground in the corner of the cell. He lowers her so she’s just touching the rim of her shit bucket. The punches that come next are worse as he’s found his apparently favorite set of brass knuckles. Each punch concentrates the pain and he’s careful to hit close enough that individual hits become one massive source of excruciating pain that threatens her consciousness as much as the hand on her throat.

It’s sudden when he’s done. His hand releases her throat, letting her drop on the bucket, spilling its contents without care. Before she’s even truly aware that he’s done, he’s gone and the door closed again. It’s a while before the dazed feeling passes enough that she can crawl from the corner where she collapses vaguely wondering where the wetness has come from.

She hurts more than she thought possible. Nothing at the company trained her for this. No research can even measure up. This isn’t research. This is hell and she wants out. She wants Marla and Nate and Sir Galahad. She wants to take back what she said to Marla and go home. She just wants to go home.

As she cries, she counts because he’s coming back and she might be able to find the pattern.

[kldubois]

Lessons in Looking 14/?

Title: A Crappy Vacation, part 2

Words: 1682

a/n: This continues on from part 13.

When they get to the ER, Marla sees Evie for just a few seconds before she’s whisked off elsewhere. A nurse tells her that she’ll keep her updated on Evie as she has to sit there and be monitored for further signs of shock. It’s irritating because she wants to be there, she wants to know what’s going on with her friend, but she’s stuck in a bed.

The updates are slow to come in. The open fracture she knew about from the paramedics, but the shoulder and knee dislocations were new. According to the nurse, the swelling was too great with both so they were simply being kept stabilized for the moment while Evie had surgery on her broken arm. X-rays showed no skull fractures and no other broken bones save for the arm.

Marla herself was still feeling off, a little light-headed and nauseous, but she signed the AMA papers and nearly ran up to the fourth floor where the surgery waiting room was. The wait seems long and every time she checks with a nurse, she’s told that Evie is doing fine but nothing more. The nurses seem irritated with her questioning but then it has only been a couple hours, she supposes. Chuck calls her at one point, but she ignores it because just his name is enough to make her angry. It’s him and his stupid company that got them into this mess. Evie wasn’t getting into such serious trouble until she landed at his company. She does respond to Nate’s texts. Marla waits until Evie’s out of surgery and recovery and being taken up to a room to call.

“How’s she doing,” Nate asks in lieu of a greeting.

“Waking up some, according to the doctor. Surgery went fine, but they’re still waiting on the swelling to go down to take care of the dislocations.”

“And you? How are you holding up? That had to be scary to deal with.”

“It was, but I’m doing better now that she’s out of surgery. I’m ready to write her resignation letter though.”

“You can’t do that. She loves working there.”

“It’s dangerous for her. She’s always been rather careless, but it’s worse now. How many times in the last year has she been seriously injured and had a long hospital stay?”

“I know, but if you force her to quit, you’re going to lose her.”

Marla sighs. “I didn’t say I was going to, but I want to. I just… I want the old Evie back and this job has made her something different. It’s wearing her out. It’s wearing me out.” Her voice drops at the end in defeat.

“Do you want me to fly out and stay with you?”

“No, you have your GRE coming up. You need to be there to study, not sitting here dealing with an obstinate Evie.”

“I can study just as well there as I can here. Possibly better because I won’t have to worry about you two.”

“And who will take care of Sir Galahad? You’re helping a lot by looking after him.”

“I can find someone.” Nate pauses. “Look, just think about it. Okay?”

“Okay. And thanks for offering.”

“Keep me updated?”

“Of course.”

They end the call soon after and Marla goes up to check on Evie, who’s settled in her room and is somewhat awake but not quite coherent. Before she leaves, the nurse, who’s doing some final checks, informs Marla that they’ll try later tonight to reduce the dislocations, if the swelling goes down enough.

“Hey, Evie,” Marla says, trying to keep her voice cheerful as she sits in the chair next to the bed. Normally, she’d find a spot on the edge of the bed but she’s worried that anywhere she sat, she might cause Evie to hurt.

Evie mutters something that might be a hello, turning her head slowly. Her eyes are half open and glazed.

“Just rest, okay, Evie?” Marla doesn’t get a response, but she doesn’t expect one. Her friend is still coming out of the anesthesia and is dealing with another severe concussion. It’s very unlikely that she’ll be coherent for a while. Marla sends a quick text to Nate to let him know that she’s okay before settling in for another wait.

Her evening is spent sitting and helping Evie through the waves of nausea that come with her concussion. When the nausea turns to vomiting, she helps her sit up quickly until the bed catches up, holding an emesis basin in her free hand. The motions cause Evie to tremble in pain, between her head pounding and her still dislocated shoulder. They’ve given her painkillers, but don’t want her so out of it with the concussion. It means that when she’s finished vomiting and Marla and the nurse set her back against the mattress, she’s pale and whimpering in pain. They have to remind her to stay on her back, pushing her down carefully.

“We may have to restrain her if she won’t stay still,” the nurse says during a brief moment when Evie has given up the fight, her breathing slowing to a steady pace as she moans lowly.

“M… Mar…” she mutters. Her eyes are half open and glazed, features pinched as she turns her head to look at Marla.

“Right here, Evie.” Marla takes Evie’s uninjured hand to help keep her calm. Restraints are the last thing she wants them to have to do with Evie. “You need to stay calm.”

“Hurts.”

“I know, but you need to stay calm. It’ll help. I promise.”

“No… hurts.” Evie squirms a little, which leads to her gasping and crying out in pain. Before Marla knows it, the nurse is pulling a set of soft restraints out.

“It’s for her benefit,” the nurse says as she works to put Evie’s limbs in the restraints.

“Can’t you just sedate her?”

“Not with the concussion. Doctor’s orders.”

“Wha…?” Evie weakly pulls away from the restraints.

“It…” Marla swallows the tears that come at Evie’s pleading. “It’s for your own good, Evie. Just let them do this, okay?”

“Marla?” Though Evie’s voice is weak, the plea is clear. Still, she stops moving. The nurse quickly finishes with the restraints.

“I’ll speak with the doctor about further treatment. He’ll be by later to check on the swelling,” the nurse says before leaving. The adrenaline that made Evie more alert is wearing off, leaving her in a state of delirium. Marla stands beside the bed, a hand in Evie’s lost as to what to do. She hopes that Evie will simply go to sleep.

Evie dozes, waking occasionally to call out for Marla and asks why when she finds that her limbs won’t move. Each time breaks Marla’s heart and she does her best to calm her. A few more times the nausea flares up and even though it’s the dry heaves, Marla works to get her in a position so that she doesn’t risk choking on anything that might come up.

It’s not until the next day, late morning, that the swelling is down enough that the doctor is willing to reduce the dislocations. To help her, Evie’s been given a high dose of painkillers and mild sedative. She’s exhausted from a night of catnaps and they’re worried that anything they do might cause her to tense up, making the reductions more difficult. Fortunately, they don’t make Marla leave, not that she would’ve let them. They have her at the head of the bed, talking quietly with Evie to reassure her that she’ll be okay. She’s been given instructions to do what she needs to do to keep Evie relaxed. The restraints are gone, replaced by a few nurses, who gently hold her in place, working with the doctor seamlessly as he tackles the shoulder first.

Marla sees Evie’s tired eyes go wide as the doctor moves the arm. He’s careful not to damage the bandaging around the break.

“You’re fine, Evie. It’s going to feel painful, but it has to be done. Just keep looking at me and think about how happy Gal is going to be to see us.” Marla injects as much joy and encouragement into her voice as she repeats the same phrases. When the doctor is just finishing with the shoulder, the socket nearly back in place, Evie squirms and cries out. The nurses move quickly to lay down over her, holding her in place.

“Done,” the doctor says. “Let’s get this bandaged in place before we move on to the knee. That’ll give her a little time to rest, too.” They work to strap the arm to Evie’s chest, immobilizing the shoulder so it can heal.

“Okay, you ready for the knee now,” he asks Evie. She looks up at Marla, a question in her eyes.

“It has to be done, Evie. It’s best done now,” Marla says.

Evie nods.

“It’s going to feel much like your shoulder, but you need to not tense up, okay,” the doctor says. When Evie nods again, he and the nurses start to work again.

Unfortunately, Evie can’t help but tense up as they’re working, even as Marla talks with her and pets her hair to calm her. After a couple aborted attempts where the doctor reminds Evie to calm down, he decides to simply go for it. For Evie, the pain is excruciating and she jumps back, out of the nurses’ grasp, trying to curl up and away from the doctor, but he and the nurses roughly pull her back and begin bracing her knee. As they work, Evie is crying and Marla seething. She wants these people gone. Before they leave, they put ice packs on both joints.

“Hey, they’re gone. It’s over,” Marla says quietly as she moves to the side of the bed so Evie can see her.

“Hurts,” Evie says between tears.

“I’m sure it does. But it’ll settle out. Okay? It’s just the immediate aftermath. It’ll be fine.” Marla squeezes Evie’s hand.

“Pr…promise?”

“Of course. I promise that it’ll get better.” Marla hopes she’s right.

[kldubois]

Lessons in Looking 13/?

Title: A Crappy Vacation

Words: 1507

Marla curses Evie and her stupidity as she hurries to find the safest way down the mountain path to get to her friend who somehow managed to fall down the easiest path on one of the easiest mountains to climb in the country. The two are a week into their drive across the country vacation, but neither has found it particularly relaxing. It’s only been a month and a half since Evie jumped in the river to save the boy and while she’s recovered, she wasn’t as focused at work. Chuck has sent her home a few times and, after the last time, pulled Marla aside to talk.

“Evie’s on vacation for the new few weeks. I’ve already talked with the boss about it,” Chuck said.

“Something happen at work?” Marla knew that Evie wouldn’t take vacation without saying something first.

“She’s just not been herself. Making mistakes and not paying attention. She nearly caused a serious incident today. She needs a break to get herself in the right mindset to work.”

“We’ll go on a road trip. Her and I had been planning to for a while. That should help to get her away from work and everything that’s been on her mind.”

Evie hadn’t been happy to get away and still isn’t fully enjoying herself as Marla knows she would normally. Marla is concerned that her friend is falling into depression as she’s sleeping more than usual, doesn’t want to do anything, and always seems to have a look of exhaustion and sadness on her face. She thought that the hike, on a nice sunny day, would help. Activity is supposed to help depression, she’s heard. But she didn’t account for Evie’s propensity towards clumsiness and accidents.

Down near the start of the path, to the left of the walking path where the ground is a mix of dirt and grass with rocks, branches, and other natural debris, is where she finds Evie, who lies on her side, her right arm pulled tight to her chest with the other hand clamped around it. Though her face is clenched in pain and head turned towards the ground, she makes no noise save for some gasping.

“Evie!” Marla throws herself to her knees next to her and it’s only then that she sees the blood, seeping out of the area where Evie has her hand clamped down on the right arm. She swallows to get rid of the immediate nausea, though her stomach still rolls. She’s never done well with blood. Coughing, fevers, vomit, broken bones, even, she could deal with. But blood and open wounds are her downfall. With Evie’s swath of injuries, she’s gotten a little better with coping mechanisms so she can help her friend, but it’s still difficult.

“Come on, Evie. Let me see your arm. You’re bleeding.” Marla forces a cheerfulness into her voice. When Evie doesn’t respond, Marla tries again, with a little more forcefulness, but it still doesn’t work. “Okay, I’m just going to pull your arm away. I need to see what’s going on with this cut.”

The moment she touches the arm, Evie howls in pain and rolls away from Marla. Pained, she can’t stop her movement, which takes her a few more feet down the hill. She gasps and cries out as she rolls. When she stops, Marla sees her go limp and knows that Evie’s lost consciousness. It’s then that she realizes she needs to call 911.

As she’s talking with the 911 operator, explaining how Evie fell and is now unconscious and bleeding, Marla discovers the source of the bleeding. It takes a few seconds for the realization to hit and then she feels faint, falling back onto her butt as the phone slides out of her hand. Her stomach churns and before she can turn to the side, she’s vomiting. She eventually does manage to, but her shirt is soiled.

When she’s done and her stomach is somewhat settled and her head isn’t spinning so much, she remembers Evie and the phone call. A quick glance at the phone shows that the call’s been disconnected, but she’s sure that help is coming. Evie, however, is still unconscious and her arm is bleeding. The sight of bone sticking through skin makes her stomach turn, but she has to keep it together to help Evie, at least until the paramedics come. Then, she can give in to the nausea a little.

She crawls over to Evie, rolling her gently onto her back. Evie groans a little at the noise but doesn’t wake up anymore. Marla grabs her sweater to wrap around the wound. It’s far from clean but the bleeding needs to be stemmed some because she doesn’t know how long it will take paramedics to get out here. She’s careful not to tie it tightly, wary of dislodging the bone and making the injury worse. This seems to be the most severe injury, though there might be another concussion and some bruising after the falls. There are some minor scrapes littering the exposed skin.

There’s not much she can do, she realizes, except sit here and watch Evie and wait for help to arrive. This was such a stupid trip to take, she thinks. It’s done neither of them any good, especially Evie, who is now injured, again. It’s going to mean another couple months out of work or at least on desk duty, which Evie seems to hate right now. Her friend, who would spend hours at her desk typing away on one story or another and when prodded to take a break for a while, would pull out her laptop to type while they watched TV, does none of that now. She’s either working, sitting mindlessly watching TV, or recovering from some injury. Marla thought this trip might help to get her friend back, but she can see now that it won’t do that. It’s just another trip to the ER and section in Evie’s medical file.

She doesn’t quite realize when the ambulance comes until the paramedics are next to her, asking if she’s okay.

“Yeah. It’s her. It’s Evie, who’s not. She fell and her arm’s broken and she hasn’t woken up. She didn’t make a noise other than to scream. Loudly. Really loudly.” Marla rambles as one of the paramedics patiently listens. He grabs a blanket and wraps it around her, saying something about shock, which is crazy because she wasn’t the one who rolled down a mountain. He urges her to stand, ignoring her protests that she wants to be near Evie.

“They need the space,” he says and guides her to the ambulance where he has her lay on a gurney. If it’s by intent or now, she doesn’t know, but it’s positioned such that she can see them working on Evie. She watches their quick, practiced movements as the paramedic attending to her checks her vitals.

“Did you vomit recently,” he asks, a small tablet in hand as he works to get a medical history for her. He’s noticed the residue on her clothing.

“Umm… yeah.” Marla’s attention is mostly on Evie.

“From an injury or illness?”

“Her injury.” She clumsily points to Evie, finding her hand caught in the blanket.

The paramedic pauses a second before realizing what happened. “An open fracture like hers can be quite unsightly, but it’s very treatable. There’s nothing to worry about.”

Marla huffs. “You don’t know my friend.” She looks at the paramedic for the first time, seeing how young he is, almost the same age of Nate from the looks of it, but he has a kind look. “Just six weeks ago she jumped in a river to save a boy and wound up in the hospital for two weeks with a severe concussion, bruising so bad she could barely breathe at times, and pneumonia.”

“Perhaps that was just a bit of bad luck?”

“Unfortunately not and it’s only gotten worse with her new job. Someone who can manage to get cut with children’s scissors doesn’t belong in even a remotely dangerous job.”

“I’m ready to load her up, Jack,” the paramedic seeing to Evie calls back. Jack tells Marla to stay where she is while he takes the backboard to the other paramedic. She watches as they expertly get her on the backboard and strapped down, carrying her to the other empty gurney. Jack goes back to get their supplies while the other paramedic finishes getting Evie settled. Marla can see that they have her arm bandaged properly now and splinted. It’s been secured to her abdomen as well. There’s also a neck brace, including braces on either side of her head and a set of straps to keep them in place. She can only see part of Evie’s face, but it still looks pale. There’s oxygen, a monitor for the oxygen, an IV, and a blood pressure cuff. It seems the worst Evie’s been. Even after the river, she wasn’t hooked up to as much.

Stupid trip.

[kldubois]

Lessons in Looking 12/?

Title: Not Quite Up to Par

Words: 2131

a/n: This is a continuation of part 11

Evie is exhausted by the time she’s brought back from getting x-rays done. After slamming into that branch, they wanted to make sure she didn’t break any bones. They took shots of her entire body it seemed, moving her around even though she cried out. The mild painkiller they gave her takes the edge off of the pain, but no more.

“Dr. Smith will be by once she’s had a chance to look at the x-rays,” Abby, the nurse, says as she leaves, closing the door behind her. The woman’s usual snark is gone, which Evie is glad for. She isn’t up to dealing with it. Everyone who’s been coming in, instead, has been congratulating her on her rescue of the young boy, who is apparently conscious and being warmed up while sitting in the children’s hospital ER. Marla got word from one of the officers about the boy’s condition and relayed it to her. Evie’s grateful that he’s okay, but at the moment she’s feeling quite miserable herself. She’s curled up on her side, huddled under a blanket, holding a hand to her chest as she coughs. That coughing hasn’t really stopped since they pulled her from the water though it has eased a little. Still, the continued coughing is making her already sore chest ache even more. She wants to go home to rest and warm up and let her head rest. It started pounding during the ambulance ride and she couldn’t help the groans as the movement of the vehicle sends spikes of pain shooting in her head.

“You still with us,” Marla asks quietly. She’s reached a hand under the blankets to grab hold of Evie’s free hand, gently massaging it to let her know she’s not alone.

Evie tries to speak but it’s more of an incomprehensible groan.

“Maybe we should get a doctor or a nurse,” Nate asks, hesitation clear as he glances worriedly at the pile of blankets that covers their friend.

“Fine,” Evie croaks.

“That you manage to respond to.” Marla sighs heavily.

“I… am.” There’s little force in her retort.

“Between your coughing and bruises, you can barely move.”

“Fine.” Evie works to get her arms under her, quickly breathing heavily and coughing harshly with the effort.

“Lay back down, you idiot,” Marla chides.

“Not… an… idiot,” Evie says between coughs as she pushes herself upright, locking her elbows to stay sitting. The effort leaves her winded, sweating, and worse, dizzy. She tries riding it out, closing her eyes, bowing her head, and breathing slowly, though that’s hampered by the continued coughing.

Marla sees it happening and moves to help but her actions seem to be in slow motion. When Evie loses consciousness, Marla just barely catches her as she slumps bonelessly to the side.

“Stupid,” Marla mutters, holding onto Evie for a few moments before gently setting her back on the gurney. By then, Nate’s already come back with Abby, who immediately starts checking her vitals.

“Pulse is fast and her breathing, but the blood pressure is low,” Abby says. “Nate said that she was sitting up.”

“She’d forced herself to sit up,” Marla says. “We were arguing and she tried to sit up.” She feels guilt for what’s happened. Her and Evie have been at odds lately about her taking on more responsibility at the company, being a part of Chuck’s team, and going into dangerous situations. Evie sees it all as research but Marla’s worried that one day her friend is going to get into a situation she can’t get out of and wind up getting seriously hurt or killed.

“She’s stable, outside of the elevated stats, but I will let the doctor know what’s happened and she should be in here in a few minutes.”

“She shouldn’t pass out from sitting up.” There’s an edge to Marla’s voice as she prepares to ensure that her friend is taken care of. It’s not the first time she’s had to do it.

“No, she shouldn’t, but she’s been through a lot this afternoon. Right now, her vitals are good. Dr. Smith will know more when she gets here.” Just as Abby is speaking, Dr. Smith arrives, tablet in hand.

“How’re we doing in here,” she asks cheerfully.

“Evie fainted,” Marla says before Abby can speak.

“What happened?” Concern clear, Smith moves to the side of the bed, checking Evie’s vitals as she listens to Marla explain what led to the fainting. “Abby?” Smith turns to the nurse for more information once Marla’s finished.

“Vitals are good. The pulse and breathing were fast, but they’re slowing now. Blood pressure was low,” Abby says.

“Her x-rays came back good,” Smith says. “No breaks, but she does have a concussion and bruising to her abdomen and back. Between the bruising and concussion, she really shouldn’t be sitting up. I’ve already put in the paperwork to have her kept overnight at the least. I’d like to have her monitored to make sure that the concussion doesn’t cause any problems.”

“Okay. How bad is the bruising? We saw some of it in the ambulance and it was already starting to color,” Marla asks.

“It’s pretty severe bruising. I’m going to prescribe a painkiller to help but she will have some trouble moving and perhaps breathing. Being monitored here overnight will help us to gauge the severity and how we can manage the pain for her. It’s likely to take a few weeks to heal.”

Evie chooses that moment to start waking, moaning and coughing lightly as she moves her head and eyes work on fluttering open. One of the light coughs breaks into a larger coughing fit and she’s too weak and pained to get herself into a better position for coughing. Marla’s quick to help her up but is hesitant to push her up the whole way.

“She’ll be fine to sit up more,” Smith says, helping Marla to pull a coughing Evie into a more upright position. She also guides Marla through a routine of lightly hitting different parts of Evie’s back to help when it’s clear that Evie doesn’t have the strength to continue with coughing.

“Does she have pneumonia,” Nate asks from where he stands at the end of the bed. His worry is clear.

“I can’t say at this point. The x-rays don’t show anything. Paramedics said she swallowed some river water, which may lead to pneumonia. We’ll have to wait. Right now, the coughing is part of the aftermath of being in the water and the difficulty coming from pain and exhaustion. I wouldn’t worry just yet about pneumonia.”

“Now,” Smith begins as she and Marla set Evie back against the mattress. “Other than fine, how’re you doing?”

Before Evie has a chance to answer, Marla gets her a cup of water to take a sip from. Her breathing is still a little strained and she takes a few careful sips.

“Tired,” Evie finally answers, voice raspy and weak.

“I’m not surprised about that. How’s the pain?”

“There.”

“I need a little more than that, Evalyne,” Smith says. “What hurts and how much?”

“Back, chest, head, arms, legs. My whole body?”

“Okay.” Smith chuckles at the list. “Which is the worst?”

“Head and back.” Evie coughs harshly a few times, grabbing at her chest. “And chest.”

“You do have a lot of bruising on your back and some on your chest as well. I’m prescribing painkillers and you’re going to be kept overnight at the very least.”

Evie nods tiredly.

“Evie?” Marla’s immediately concerned because Evalyne never gives in that quickly.

“Just tired, Marla,” Evie says. She doesn’t have much more of a chance to talk as a couple orderlies come in to take her up to a room. Marla and Nate wait until the orderlies are rolling her down the hall before they head up to the third-floor waiting room.

“She gave in really quickly, Nate,” Marla says as they walk to the waiting room. One of the nurses will come by to let them know when Evie is set up.

“She did say she was tired,” Nate says.

“I know, but even still, she fights more. I’ve seen her worse and she still fights being hospitalized. She hates having to stay overnight.”

“She’s exhausted and hurting. I think laying there trying not to cough is the only thing on her mind.”

“Maybe. It’s just not like her.” The worry is still clear in Marla’s voice.

“Let’s wait to see how she’s doing once they have her set up in the room and on medicine. She might be more back to her normal self,” Nate says. He opens the door of the waiting room for Marla and they go in to find a couple of seats. They wait little more than a half hour before a nurse comes by to let them know that Evie can have visitors.

“How late can we stay,” Marla asks.

“Eleven pm and you can come back at seven.”

“We’ve stayed through the night in the past. Can we do that again? I’m worried about her. She was just so bad off downstairs and she’s been really hurting and exhausted.”

“You’d have to talk with her doctor and the head nurse. It’s rare that it’s done, but you’d have to have it okayed by them.”

“Why don’t we go check on her before we talk to them about staying overnight,” Nate says. “She might be doing better.”

“I don’t want to leave her alone tonight, Nate,” Marla says.

“Okay. But let’s just go see how she’s doing and then we’ll talk to the doctor and nurse.”

“Yeah, okay.” Marla reluctantly agrees.

Evie is dozing when they come in, but she wakes with a start and a coughing fit. Marla is quick to help her sit up, rubbing her back gently as she coughs. When the fit is over, she lays her back against the bed. Evie swallows with a grimace and seems to sink into the mattress. Marla gets her some water to help with the dry throat.

“How’s the pain,” Marla asks.

“Still there, but they said it would take a bit to take effect.” Evie’s voice is weak and heavy with exhaustion.

“Are you okay, Evie? You gave in really quickly to being admitted.” Marla reaches out to hold on to one of Evie’s hands. Her friend is once again laying under a pile of blankets.

“Yes, Marla,” Evie says. “I’m hurting and tired and cold and I really, really want to sleep but every time I breathe I hurt and when I cough, I hurt. I just want to sleep, Marla.” Her short rant turns whiney by the end, but Evie doesn’t care and it only shows Marla how miserable her friend is. For how unaccustomed Evie is to hospital visits, she’s always rather quiet about how she really feels and when she does say, it’s never with a real whine.

“Rest then. Nate and me are just going to sit here and keep you company. Those painkillers should be taking effect soon.”

Nate pulls up a couple chairs so that they can be close by the bed. Marla thanks him as she takes a seat without letting go of Evie’s hand. Evie shifts so that she’s on her side, curled up slightly.

“You’re not staying the night,” Evie says quietly after a pause.

“Yes, I am. I’m going to talk with the doctor and the head nurse to see if I can. You’re not going to be left alone in here, not with how sick you’re feeling.”

“I’m fine. Or will be. Go home tonight. Nate?”

“I’m with Marla on this one,” Nate says, voice a little hesitant. “You shouldn’t have to be here alone tonight. One of us will stay with you, if they allow it.”

“No.”

“Yes, now get some rest. You deserve it after today.”

Evie glares at the two of them as best as she can from under the blankets but gives in. She’s too tired and pained to care. Between her back, head, and chest, she’s miserable and can’t find a single comfortable spot to lay in. Curling up is passable, but more than that, it’s warm and maybe, she thinks, that will help with the other things. Truthfully, she’s glad that Nate and Marla are wanting to stay the night. Being out in the raging river, she’d felt a sense of loneliness that frightened her. Out there, it was just rushing water. She could see them and she knew that they were there, but they weren’t. It was just her and nature. Not having to face the dark room with just strange nurses coming in to check on her eases her some and she finds that she’s not quite as miserable as she was.

[kldubois]

Lessons in Looking 11/?

Title: A Chilly Dip

Words: 1439

TW: child in peril

The cold is the first thing she feels when she hits the water and for a second it stops her. She can’t think, can’t move, doesn’t want to because the water saps her strength, bites through the skin. But then she remembers why she’s jumped in: a young boy, maybe seven or eight fell in and couldn’t swim against the current. Marla was there with her, so was Nate, but he was in the middle of explaining something about his research and Evie reacted quicker. It must be her training with Chuck. That training doesn’t help much in the water, though. It’s a few seconds of thinking to keep pushing herself forward until the adrenaline kicks in and she swims without thought of the cold and rushing water.

The boy fights her when she grabs hold of him. He kicks her in the chest and she chokes on water as she gasps for air. When she grabs for him again, she catches him so that his back is against her chest. It makes breathing harder and without her arms, she has to kick more with her feet to keep their combined weight afloat. He kicks and flails his arms, catching her, scratching and bruising where he hits.

She has to get back. They’re already floating further downstream, the rushing water pushing them quickly. Before joining the company and training with Chuck, she wasn’t very strong. She might’ve been able to do a few push-ups and perhaps half a pull-up but now she has more upper body strength; Chuck wrote her up a strict regimen.

Evie shifts the boy in her arms; his kicking and arms flailing is slowing, which means that she can’t dally in working to get them out of the water. With one arm secure around his chest, she uses the other to swim back to shore, kicking with as much strength as she has. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Marla and Nate and some other people that might be police and paramedics. She keeps their shoes in her line of sight, swimming against the current to reach them.

Halfway there, her muscles are burning. Every stroke brings her just a little closer, but it still seems so far away and it takes so long for just this short bit. She thinks she doesn’t have the energy to keep going forward. But then she hears, faintly, her friends calling to her, encouraging her to keep moving and she feels how limp the boy has gotten. Has he lost consciousness? Is he still breathing? Is he even alive? She has to get him to safety. She has to keep going.

So, she does. She forces her burning muscles and her cold body to move, to keep kicking and swimming towards the edge where her friends and safety are.

When she gets there, fighting the current with a grip on a branch, she works to hand off the boy, who is indeed unconscious, which makes grabbing hold of him difficult, especially in the wet clothes that weigh him down. Once the boy is secure, one of the police officers reaches out to grab hold of her, grasping at her wrist when she finds herself taken away by a sudden burst of water.

Taken by surprise and overcome with exhaustion, Evie finds herself tumbling in the water. She goes under often despite kicking and flailing to reach the surface. Quickly, she doesn’t know which way is up and stops the effort of swimming to anything in the hopes that her body will naturally rise to the surface. Besides, she wants to conserve the energy she has for when the current isn’t so strong. In the meantime, the water knocks her into rocks and branches, scratching and bruising her as she struggles to catch her breath in the chaotic movement.

As sudden as it starts, it seems, it’s over when she’s slammed against a large branch that’s fallen into the river, the top ending about halfway across. It takes what little air was in her lungs out. Her back ignites in pain and her vision goes black when her head smacks the branch. Faintly, she hears yelling but she can do nothing about it, reeling from the hit as she is. Cold and hurting, taking her next breath, forcing her lungs to expand and her mouth to gasp for air, is hard enough, taking all of her concentration. She doesn’t see the man sitting preciously above her under he’s reaching to tie a rope around her waist. It’s awkward and she tries to help but she’s more a hindrance. He gets the rope secured around her, the tightness digging into her already aching chest. Then she’s being pulled, against the current.

At this point, she doesn’t feel the water or the cold. She doesn’t even quite realize that she’s being dragged out of the water until she is. Then it’s a flurry of activity as she coughs and tries to catch her breath. She’s quickly stripped of her outer layers, down to her underwear and wrapped in a thick blanket. One of them carries her to the back of an ambulance where Marla and Nate just manage to jump in before the doors close to keep the cold and wind out. There, the paramedic puts a pulse ox meter on her finger, checks her pulse, and puts a nasal cannula on her to ease her breathing.

She hisses as the paramedic prods her chest and back. He pushes too hard on one developing bruise and Evie starts, pulling away as she curls on her side.

“St…st’p,” she mutters.

“I have to make sure there’s no serious injuries, ma’am,” the paramedic says.

“N… not. F… fine.”

“No, you’re not,” Nate says. “You’ve got some bad cuts and scrapes, not to mention the bruising that looks like it’s starting to develop.”

“H…had to do… it.”

“Of course you did,” Marla says with surprising gentleness given the situation. “Now, would you be a good girl for me and let the paramedic take a look at you. You’ve probably broken something.”

“Though’ ‘bou’ it. H… had to do it.” Evie’s voice is weak with exhaustion and pain.

“I know and right now, you need to let the paramedics get a look at you. I’m not upset.”

“Not m… mad?” At the surprise in Evie’s voice, Marla wonders if she gets too mad, too often to make her friend fear her anger about injuries.

“No, but you do need to get looked at. You’ve got some bad bruises. There might be some broken bones, too. Okay?”

“Okay.” Evie nods and gently turns onto her back so the paramedic can resume his examination. It hurts despite his attempts to be careful. There’s bruising on her back and abdomen as well as cuts and scrapes on every bit of exposed skin. Wrapped in the blanket, she’s a little warmer, but the chill is still present.

“Alright, I’m going to secure you so we can take off. Your body temp is a bit low and with all of your coughing as the bruising, the doctors in the ER are going to want to get a closer look to make sure that you’re okay,” the paramedic says. “You two coming along?” He looks to Marla and Nate.

“Can we,” Nate asks at the same time that Marla says, “Yes.”

“Yes, you can. Just make sure that you stay out of the way.”

“Will do,” Nate says. The paramedic starts securing Evie to the gurney, though she doesn’t notice much having been hit with another coughing fit. By the time they’re taking off, the fit is over and she’s exhausted. The chills and coughing are taking what little energy she had. Marla sees her misery and pulls up the blanket while the paramedic is recording some notes.

“You’ll be fine,” Marla says quietly, brushing some stray hairs off of Evie’s face.

“C…cold.” Evie wants to get back on her side, but the straps have her secured on her back.

“Do you have another blanket,” Marla asks the paramedic. He glances at Evie quickly and then turns to pull a blanket from one of the cabinets.

“This one is heated, but I’m only putting it on a low setting. Warming you up too quickly could be dangerous.” He unfolds the blanket and messes with a switch before replacing her old blanket with this one. Immediately, she feels the warmth and lets out a small moan of content. Marla chuckles lightly at the sight and settles back on the bench next to Nate for the rest of the ride.

[kldubois]

Lessons in Looking 10/?

Title: A Stupid Thing

Words: 1049

This would definitely get her fired, she thinks. Definitely fired and without a good recommendation. But then she’s just as likely to be dead by the end of the day, so maybe she shouldn’t worry so much about getting fired.

What was just an interview with a couple of key witnesses in the company’s latest case turned out to be hostage situation as the key witnesses became prime suspects following a couple of well-placed questions for which she is proud of. There’s a reason she got promoted and it wasn’t for her ability to consider the consequences of her actions. No, it was just what got her in this predicament, partly, that got her that nice promotion and raise: her ability to connect the dots to piece together a story.

And now, now she is tied to a chair and gagged because they got tired of her talking. She really can’t help it. When she gets nervous her mouth runs. She was always told that it would get her into trouble. It did get her punched and kicked and verbal insults hurled at her. She’s sore, her stomach and head ache, and she’s bleeding from some cuts.

“If you don’t agree to a deal with lesser charges, then she’ll pay the price,” criminal number one says and Evie is really glad that she’s gagged because she’d have groaned again which would’ve gotten her punched, again. But the second criminal saw her roll her eyes, giving her a punch to her stomach that leaves her winded.

“Stop it with the back talk.” The large fist and stern facial expression should be enough to get her to shut up, but she has to bite her cheek to stop the attitude from resurfacing. She’s going to get herself killed before her team can get her out of here. That’s who criminal number one was talking with, demanding that the two be let go with little more than a slap on the wrist for child endangerment and kidnapping charges.

Chuck and her team weren’t having any of it. They sounded a little better after having been taken out by the flu. She didn’t get it because Marla insisted that they both get the flu shot, presenting Evie with research about last year’s deadly flu season that she couldn’t ignore. Evie isn’t sure if she should thank Marla for that or not given the situation she’s gotten herself into. Then again, she probably did it herself. Knowing that she leaps before she looks is one thing, learning to stop such behavior is something Evie has yet to fully grasp.

There’s more negotiating, angry negotiating on this end as a counter to Chuck’s even tone. The boss might’ve been here, too, but his entire family came down with the flu right before he did. When Evie dropped off some food over the weekend, the whole place was like a war zone.

The next several minutes are a blur in retrospect. Negotiations break down as Chuck refuses to give in to their demands. She’s not upset with him; there’s no way these men can get off given their crimes. As they grow angrier, the gun is cocked and pointed in her direction more steadily than before. It’s then that it hits her, that she could die here because she decided to go ahead with an interview that she should’ve waited to do until she had someone with her. Chuck always stresses the importance of having a partner and she ignored his rule. Getting fired is the least of her concerns at the moment even though it still does linger heavily in her mind. She thinks, hopes, that Chuck has a plan to get her out alive.

She hears the gun go off several seconds before she feels it. She’s never been shot before. She’s seen people shot, far in the distance, and she’s done research, some of which she discovers is right. It does burn and the pain is blinding. She can’t think of anything more than the burn of the wound and the sharp pain that spreads out around it. At some point she faints, she figures because the next thing she feels is a heavy, painful pressure against the wound. As she opens her eyes, Chuck’s blurry, worried face comes into view. His mouth is moving but she can’t make out anything past the ringing in her ears.

She fades in and out, pain being the only real constant. And it’s not just her shoulder, it seems. It’s still the worst there, burning and stinging, but the pain doesn’t seem to have a clear end. She watches, detached and fuzzy, as Chuck hovers over her, then the paramedics. Their movements, working on her reignites the pain.

A thick numbness is the next thing she knows as she struggles against the heaviness of her eyelids to wake for longer than a few seconds, long enough to let her eyes focus enough to see her surroundings. When she finally does and her mind is clear, Marla’s sitting by the bed arms crossed, looking irritated.

“You’re an idiot,” she says.

“Huh?” Evie’s voice is scratchy. She swallows, trying to relieve the dryness. Thankfully, Marla takes pity on her, getting her some ice chips.

“You’re an idiot,” Marla says again when she sits back down.

“Yes and fired.”

“No, surprisingly not.” Marla leans back in the chair. “Your boss liked the outcome, though you are on probation for the next six months and you have to go through training, again.”

“Oh.”

“You’re lucky and an idiot.”

Evie sighs. “How long are you going to say that?”

“Until you act smarter. You got lucky that Chuck called and figured out some plan to get you out of there with just a gunshot wound.”

“And how are he and the team?”

“At home, sick. Chuck collapsed shortly after the paramedics took you away.”

“Oh.”

“Yes. You’re lucky and an idiot but I’m glad that he got you out. Can you promise to try to think about your actions before you do them and then don’t do them?”

Evie chuckles, wincing at the pain that comes.

“You okay,” Marla asks.

“Just hurting.”

“Do you need the nurse?”

“No.” She winces as she readjusts carefully. “And I’ll try to be more careful.”

[kldubois]

Lessons in Looking 9/?

Title: Nothing by Halves

Words: 1920

She wakes coughing, hurting, and overly warm. It’s not new given the nasty cold she’s had for the past week. She thought she was over it though. The fever had been gone for a couple of days but now it seems to be back. When another coughing fit hits, her head spins and aches. She moans, curling around her chest to ease the ache that’s set in there.

“Evie?” Marla’s voice is quiet and concerned as she enters the dark room. It’s mid-morning outside, but it’s the weekend and she wanted to give Evie more time to rest. Between the coughing, fever, and nausea, the cold had taken a lot out of her. Usually, Marla would’ve had a hard time getting her to stay in bed rather than the couch, but Evie hadn’t put up much of a fight.

When she doesn’t get a response, Marla turns on the desk lamp and goes over to sit on the edge of the bed next to Evie’s curled up form. Her friend is breathing heavily, still with that rasp that had her concerned during the last week that the cold was something more than just a cold. But then her fever had broken and Evie seemed to be getting better, if not for the cough and breathing.

“How’re you feeling,” Marla asks. She checks to see if Evie’s fever has returned with a hand on her forehead. That’s enough to wrestle Evie out of whatever stupor she was in and she uncurls a little to look up at Marla, eyes glazed with fever. “Your fever’s back.”

“Hurts,” Evie says, voice low and weak.

“What does? Your chest? Your head?”

“Both.”

“I’ll get you some ibuprofen and juice. While I’m gone, keep this in your mouth.” Marla takes out the thermometer and sticks in Evie’s mouth without waiting for her to respond. When she comes back with the pills and juice, Evie hasn’t moved. The thermometer reads 102.4.

“You’ve got a fever again, Evie.” Marla brushes aside some of the stray hairs from Evie’s forehead. Her friend moves towards her hand, apparently enjoying the coolness compared to her burning body. “Let’s get you sitting up a bit so you can take these pills and drink your juice. Then I’ll let you go back to sleep. Okay?”

Evie nods and uncurls a little and tries to get up but stops suddenly and Marla sees her face pale. She collapses back to the bed with a groan, eyes clenched closed tightly.

“You going to throw up,” Marla asks, already reaching for the bucket.

Evie shakes her head lightly.

“Okay. You got a headache?”

She nods, adding, “Dizzy. Ears hurt.”

“Your ears?”

“They’re full. Like a balloon to pop.”

“Ear infection then, probably.” Marla sighs. Given Evie’s track record, she shouldn’t be surprised, but faced with it now, she’s feeling overwhelmed. It’s already been a hard week with balancing her work and being around to look after Evie. Nate and Chuck have both been around to help when they can, giving her time to rest and run errands.

“Alright, then. You need to sit up a bit to take these pills for the fever and pain and drink some juice. Chuck’s coming by soon with some food. He can help us get to convenient care.”

“No, just want to stay here.” Evie coughs roughly, curling up as she grabs at her chest.

“No, you need to see a doctor. You probably need antibiotics to help with your ears so you don’t lose your hearing. Now, come on. The sooner you sit up, the sooner you can lay back down and get some sleep.” Marla doesn’t give Evie much time to argue. She gently helps her sit up a little, handing her the pills and then holding the cup of juice to her lips so she can take sips. When it’s clear that Evie can’t stand to sit up like this much longer with the mounting pain and dizziness, Marla sets her back down, resting her head on a pillow and pulling the covers back up. Evie’s eyes are closed and she doesn’t say anything more to Marla, but Marla does see the relieved look on her friend’s face.

“I’m going out into the living room for a few minutes to take care of a few things, but I’ll be back. Okay?”

In the living room, Marla gives Chuck a call. They’d become friends over the last couple of months, bonding in part over their friendship with Evie and concern for her well-being. The woman had a terrible habit of leaping before looking, which hadn’t been completely trained out of her by the company’s training.

“How soon are you able to get over here,” Marla asks, bypassing a normal greeting.

“Why? What’s wrong?” Chuck goes immediately into concerned mode.

“She has an ear infection now and can barely move without getting dizzy and hurting.”

“She needs a doctor.”

“Yeah and I’m going to need some help getting her to convenient care.”

“Don’t worry about that. I’ll send a doctor over.”

“We can’t afford a doctor who makes house calls. Just help me get her to convenient care.”

“Marla, do you think she’s going to be able to make it there without being in so much pain that she’s miserable, maybe even passes out?”

“What other option do we have?”

“The doctor is a close friend. He’ll be glad to help. This is the sort of thing that he likes doing. And I’ll take care of everything.”

“We’re not a charity case.”

“I’d never consider you a charity case. You and Evalyne are friends. If I can help you through my connections like this, then I will.”

“Fine, but we will be paying you back.”

“That’s up to the doctor. Right now, let’s work on getting Evie feeling better. I’ll give him a call and then head over. I should get there before him, but if not, I’ll text you his name and photo so you know who it is.”

The call ends shortly after and Marla goes back in to sit with Evie. Sir Galahad follows her in, jumping up on the bed to lay down along Evie’s back. She doesn’t feel any warmer, but the coughing and pain seem a little worse. Marla helps Evie to use her inhaler, but it doesn’t seem to have much of an impact. The nebulizer is probably the better route to go, but they don’t have any more medication for it. Perhaps this doctor Chuck is bringing will be able to prescribe some. She’s not happy about having to rely on Chuck for things like this. Her and Evie knew that he came from wealth, but he didn’t act like he did. His parents hadn’t given him anything more than money for a college education, forcing him to earn his money on his own.

This really was the first time he’d shown his wealth. And while she doesn’t like having to pay out for a house call, she knows that this will be easier on Evie. Perhaps the doctor will be willing to take installments instead of the entire sum. They could afford a couple hundred today and then probably a little more than that monthly.

The doctor arrives not long after Chuck. He’s a friendly man, a little older than her and Evie. After they have the customary greetings, he asks to see Evie. He’s careful during his examination, talking with her quietly and not pushing her past what she can do comfortably. She’s quiet throughout much of it except for the occasional cry of pain, coughing fit, and noisy breathing. Save for having her sit up to listen to her breathing and to check her ears, he lets her stay curled up under the covers.

“Well, I think it’s safe to say that you have a double ear infection, Evalyne. Both ears look pretty bad and it accounts for the level of pain as well as fever,” he says from where he sits on the edge of the bed.

“Double ear infection? You sure don’t do anything by halves, Evie,” Marla says.

“Didn’t… mean it,” Evie mutters.

“Of course, you didn’t,” the doctor says. “The good news is, antibiotics will help. I’ll send a prescription to the pharmacy and they’ll have it dropped off shortly.”

“Oh, no, one of us can go out and pick it up,” Marla says.

“Nonsense. It’s part of my services. If a patient is bad off enough to need a house call, then surely they can’t afford to go out for a prescription and their caretaker can’t manage it either.”

“Oh, okay.” Marla can see the zeroes being tacked on to the bill at that.

“Now, about this breathing. Do you have an inhaler?”

“We tried it earlier, but it didn’t seem to do much,” Marla says. “She has a nebulizer, but the prescription ran out.”

“Well, that one’s easily solved too. Both prescriptions will be here within the hour.” He pauses a moment to enter some information into his phone, then puts it away to look up at them. “How else can I help?”

“You’ve done more than enough. Perhaps we can step out into the hall to talk about the bill.”

“Of course.” He follows Marla out into the hallway, leaving Chuck with Evie.

“I’m not really sure how to say this, but we don’t have the kind of money that Chuck does. We have no problems with paying you, but a thousands of dollars doctor bill is a little beyond our reach. If you’ll take installments, I’d really appreciate it.”

“Thousands of dollars? What did Chuck tell you about my business?”

“That you were a family friend.”

“Well, he got that right, but after this, he might need to reevaluate his part in that. Marla, my costs are much lower than you would normally pay at a hospital, especially if there’s no insurance involved. And this visit, because you’re a friend of Chuck’s and he didn’t explain things, is half my usual rate.”

“Oh. So…”

“Just over a hundred, but don’t worry about it right now. I’ll be sticking around for a couple of hours to make sure that she’s alright.”

“Is she that bad off?”

“I’m worried about the pain and breathing issues. The fever’s a little concerning, too, but she’s still coherent. I’d rather be here if something happens than on the other side of town with another patient.”

“I appreciate that. She was doing better, but she has this habit of taking the worst of the given options.”

“This is hardly the worst, but it is serious. You called me at the right time that hopefully, we can get control of the infection and keep it from getting much worse.”

The remainder of the day is spent looking after Evie in turns. The medicine comes and they start the treatments. The nebulizer has a quicker effect, easing her breathing within minutes of its use. It’s not gone, but there’s less strain. The fever and pain don’t lessen much during the day, but they also don’t grow worse, which is encouraging enough to the doctor that he leaves them mid-afternoon, giving Marla his business card.

Evie, for her part, is restless for much of the day, though the ease in breathing does help her to rest a little. Eventually, despite the pain and fever, her body gives into sleep. It’s no more restful until her fever breaks the next morning and she finally falls into a restive sleep.

[kldubois]

As the day is long 8/?

Title: Not Alone

Words: 1727

She grew up in the Midwest; she knows how to drive in almost any weather, even on a single forty-mile drive to the next major town, but the storm that comes, where the rain switches to ice in a matter of seconds comes as a surprise to her. But she’s used to this, or so she thinks. The car slides a couple of times on slick spots, but she easily regains control and when the ice switches back to rain, she thinks she’s in the clear. It’s then that she hits a spot of black ice and the car is out of her control. She tries to correct it, but everything seems to make the car spin further out of control.

Her stomach drops as she sees her surroundings speed up and shift suddenly when the car slides on the road. At first, it’s just sliding forwards, then the back end shifts to the right towards the ditch. Brakes are useless at this point she knows and it doesn’t matter that she gives the lightest of turns on the steering wheel to shift the car back onto the road; it massively overcorrects and the nose flips towards the ditch, turning ninety degrees. She lets go of the steering wheel with a gasp and the car continues sliding, into the side, then ditch and she thinks that the car might just tip over, rolling into the empty, snow-covered field but it doesn’t. Somehow, it doesn’t. She’s rocked around as the car runs roughly over the uneven ground. It hits something hard, slamming her into the steering wheel and knocking her unconscious.

She wakes later, fuzzy-headed and confused as she tries to piece together what’s happened. She remembers suddenly going off the road and the frenzied, uncontrolled ride off down to wherever she is now. The car is still at least and for that she’s glad. It’s cold though. The car is off and she thinks vaguely that she shouldn’t be in there. There’s something in her research about cars leaking gas and causing explosions. Could that happen here? Her mind is still muddled, but she thinks it’s a real possibility. She can’t leave without her phone though. She needs her phone, wherever it went and her keys. She’s got to be able to get back in the apartment or Marla will kill her for losing her keys again.

The phone is easy to find but the screen is shattered. Shit, she’s going to have to buy a new one, she thinks. Keys. Now she has to find those keys. She fumbles around with her hands, looking with them in the darkness because night came at some point after the crash. Finally, she finds them in the ignition. She shoves them in one jacket pocket and the phone in her pants pocket.

Now to get out.

The front windshield is broken, but there’s a large piece of wood, maybe a tree on it and she knows she can’t get out around it. Too many Christmas cookies, she thinks absently to fit in that skinny slot. The driver’s window is clear though, but it needs to be broken. Somewhere in the car is one of the car window breakers. Marla got her one a few years ago as a birthday gift and stuck it in the car herself when Evie kept forgetting about it.

She finds it in the glovebox where Marla keeps everything that’s important. It takes a few tries, but she gets it to work and soon the window is no more. She then takes it to the seatbelt because it’s still on her and she can’t get out. The sawing it takes hurts her arm, but she keeps going because she has to get out.

When the seatbelt snaps free of her, it hits her chest and arm, making her vision go white as the pain spikes. Her head pounds, making moving difficult. But the dead car, leaking gasoline, explosion runs through her mind. Getting up around the steering wheel and airbag isn’t easy. There’s a lot of shifting and careful maneuvering as she worms her way around, gasping at the pains that are now making themselves known. She has to get out though. She needs to get home so Marla doesn’t worry about her. And she promised Sir Galahad some snuggling time tonight. The hairy mutt will never let her live it down if she isn’t there.

Getting out the window, she’s cut by glass. Large and small pieces are embedded in her palms and arms as she pulls and pushes her way out. It doesn’t stop her though because she has to get out.

She lands on the ground with an ungraceful splat and she can’t help the squawk of surprise that comes from her or the cries of pain that follow. Fuck that hurt more than it should. How badly hurt is she, she thinks.

She might’ve passed out for a few moments because when she opens her eyes things don’t hurt as bad. The aches and throbbings are still there, but the spikes of pain have dulled some. For a moment she considers just staying there because she’s comfortable and out of the car. But no, explosion. An explosion might still happen and she’s far too close. She’s going to have to push herself to her feet and walk away.

That’s easier said than done and not just because of the pain. The ground is slick with snow and ice. She has to be careful because she doesn’t want to slip on ice again. On her feet, she’s wobbly and her legs feel very weak under her but after a few minutes of persistence, she’s upright and leaning against the car while her head clears. It’s spinning so badly she thinks she might slide right back onto the ground she just got up from, but with patience and some careful breathing and the car, of course, she remains upright.

Her first step is small and careful. Her foot slides on the icy ground and it’s only the car that keeps her upright. She sighs heavily before daring to take another step. It’s a little unsteady but she feels more secure when her foot doesn’t slide. She pauses again, relieved to be upright before she takes another step. Then another and another. She keeps moving, walking away from the car.

The chill begins to seep back in, through her jacket, to her bones. She can’t help the shivers that overtake her. Then the pain comes back in full force. Her head pounds and her ribs burn. When a wave of dizziness hits, knocking her off her feet, she catches herself with her arms and she sees stars before collapsing and rolling on to her side to curl up and cradle her arm to her burning chest. She lays there for a while, crying and trying to keep breathing as the pain and cold overwhelm.

Marla is going to be annoyed with her for this. She’s going to have another trip to the ER and more time laid up on the couch. Nate won’t be pleased either but he’s easier to deal with because she doesn’t live with him and he’s the better part of a decade younger. Besides, he’s busy with his studies and finals right now, so his mind is on other things, more important things than her getting into trouble again. She has to get back to them so they don’t worry.

Getting up is tricky. The cold has set into her bones making them stiff and the movement only serves to reignite the pain that had lessened. But she thinks about Marla and Nate and Trotsky and Chuck and gets to her feet, stumbling for another several steps until she trips and catches herself with her arms again.

“Fuck,” she says with a grimace, curling around the arm again. She can’t keep doing this, she thinks. She needs to get some help. A quick check of her phone shows that it’s out of range and a scan of her surroundings reveals nothing in sight. No lights, no cars, no houses. There is the road and an open night sky with a daunting number of stars dotting it. She’s never going to make it out, she thinks.

But then she’ll die here, alone.

She forces herself to get up, crawling awkwardly on three limbs with the injured one cradled to her ribs when standing proves impossible. It’s slow and painful but she keeps going, checking every so often to see if she has any bars.

It seems that it’s miles she’s traveled before she finally gets some reception. The first call fails as does the second. With her power quickly dwindling in the cold, she frantically tries a third time. Her heart jumps in joy when the ringing goes past three times.

“Evie?” It’s Marla and she sounds worried.

“Mar…” Evie’s voice cracks when she tries to speak.

“Where are you, Evie? We’ve been looking for you? It’s been hours.”

“Cr…ashed. Acci’ent.”

“Accident? What road? Are you on the country roads again?”

“S… sorry.”

“Stay there. We’re coming to get you. Chuck, Nate, she’s out on the country roads. Let’s go.” Marla keeps the phone on as she calls out for the others. Evie hears them getting ready and listens because if she’s going to die here, she’d like her last sounds to be of her friends. “You still there, Evie? We’re coming. We’re going to get you. Just stay on the phone.”

Marla keeps up the conversation until the phone disconnects when Evie’s phone dies, not knowing that Evie had passed out not long after they left the apartment. Comforted by the sound of her best friend’s voice, she’d drifted off.

Evie wakes fuzzy and with a start. She’s warmer than she remembers being, but there’s still a chill deep within. She glances over lazily to see that Marla, Nate, and Chuck are nearby, each sitting in a chair beside the bed.

“Hey,” Marla says quietly, renewing her gentle massaging of Evie’s hand to let her know that she’s not alone. “You’re safe and not alone. You can go back to sleep. You’ll feel better once you’re warmer.”

Evie remembers hearing that voice as she drifted off in the cold and it helps her now to drift back off to sleep.

[kldubois]

Lessons in Looking 7/?

Title: A Shift in the Status Quo

Words: 2009

“If you stop moving, Evie, it’ll stop hurting,” Marla says, exasperated from a long weekend of looking after her friend.

“No… it won’t,” Evie says, pausing to take a careful breath as she walks around their apartment. She had exactly three broken ribs, which she got from a training accident with Chuck and his new team. She isn’t an agent like the others but she is a consultant, helping to connect clues and complete the story behind the crime so they could figure out who the bad guy was. It’s better pay than the secretary work she was doing and more exciting.

Evie slowly makes her way back to lay on the couch, giving up on the idea of food. She hurts too much to even consider trying to eat. Every movement, from her arms to her legs and even breathing hurts. She has painkillers, but they can only do so much, especially when she has to eat to take them and she can’t eat.

“Fuck,” she says breathlessly as she relaxes into the couch, her head on a pillow and feet stretched out in front of her. “I knew they’d hurt… but not this much.”

“You broke your ribs, Evie. What did you think would happen?”

“I’ll be fine here if you want to go out. I… I appreciate you helping me this week…end.”

“Yeah, you’re fine alright.” Marla huffs as she gets up from the armchair to go into the kitchen. Evie needs to take her painkillers and she needs to eat something. The girl has no sense. She pops a couple of slices of bread into the toaster and pours some grape juice into a cup. When the toast is ready, with a thin layer of butter and strawberry jam, she takes it and the juice out to Evie, who is still stretched out on the couch.

“You need to sit up for a few minutes and eat something so that you can take your painkillers.” Marla’s tone is flat as she sets the things on the coffee table and starts grabbing a couple of pillows to put behind Evie to make it easier on her to sit up.

“I’m not hungry,” Evie says in a voice that is definitely not whiny, she would later insist.

“Doesn’t matter. You need your painkillers and you can’t take them unless you eat. Or are you picking up that habit from them, too?”

“What habit? What are you talking about?”

“Nothing. Just sit up and eat. I’ve got things I need to get to doing.”

“Then go do them. I’ll be just fine here. I told you I was.” Evie’s voice is strained as she speaks, having to pause at times to catch her breath amidst the pain. How could three small bones cause this much pain?

“Yeah, sure. You’re fine. You’ve got your new friends at work making sure that you’re fine.” Marla doesn’t hide her disdain. She can’t anymore.

“Is this…” Evie pauses in speaking as her breaths are taken by her efforts to sit up. Marla quickly helps her so she doesn’t hurt anything more. She lifts Evie into a mostly upright position, holding her there until she can get a couple more pillows behind her and leans her back against them. It means Evie is more reclining than sitting now, but she’s sitting up enough to comfortably eat.

“Here. Eat the toast and drink the juice, then you can have your painkillers and go back to resting.” Marla picks up the toast to hand to Evie.

“No… Tell me. Is this… about work?” Marla was careful, but not as much as she has been and the process of getting her into a more upright position has left her winded and hurting.

“Yes, it’s about work. Now, shut up and eat.”

“Damnit, Marla. I’m not just going to leave this. We… need to talk.”

“Didn’t matter much before, so no we don’t. Now eat.”

“No. Not until you talk about what’s bothering you.” Evie crosses her arms over her chest, ignoring the stab of pain. There’s a moment of standoff between them, broken only by the doorbell going off, which sets off Sir Galahad as he goes running to the door, barking.

With a sigh, Marla goes to the door, pulling Galahad away so she can look through the peephole. She’s only half sure she holds back the angry growl at the sight of Chuck on the other side, waiting patiently for them to open the door. In one hand he has a bag of what looks to be groceries and some other things she can’t make sense of.

“Who is it,” Evie asks from the couch.

“Chuck, your friend from work.” Is that a slight snarl in her voice, Marla wonders.

“Well, let him in. He probably wants to see how things are going.”

“Sure. I’m sure that’s exactly what he wants to do,” Marla says. Lower, she adds, “I’m sure he wants to check on the mess he caused.” She schools her features and swallows her feelings for the moment before opening the door to greet Chuck with a warm smile.

“I hope I’m not interrupting anything,” Chuck says as he walks into the apartment after she invited him to step in. She has Galahad in her arms to hold him back. The silly dog loves Chuck and wants nothing more than to pin him on the ground and lick him.

“Oh, no. We haven’t been doing anything all weekend. Evie’s just sleeping whenever she’s not in pain and can find a position she’s comfortable in. It’s not easy, you know, with three broken ribs to sleep or rest comfortably.” Definitely some snark there, she thinks. And good, too, because his easy attitude isn’t appropriate. This isn’t a hangnail Evie has. She broke ribs during training.

“Oh, yes. I know very well how painful broken ribs are. I tried to warn Evalyne before they released her, but she didn’t listen,” Chuck says.

“I’m right here,” Evie calls out, coughing and then gasping in pain at the effort.

“Yes, you are and I certainly hope you’re listening to Marla considering how poorly you listen to me.” Chuck walks over to the couch, setting the bag down nearby. Galahad immediately goes to investigate once he’s set free from Marla’s grasp.

“As best as I can,” Evie says.

Marla huffs.

“That doesn’t sound like you are.” Chuck looks from Evie to Marla.

“She wants me to eat some toast, but I want to know what’s got her mad.”

“I am interrupting then.” Chuck backs up a step. “Well, I just came to see how you were doing. We all feel really bad that you got hurt. It wasn’t supposed to happen.”

“It’s fine. It was my fault anyway. I wasn’t paying attention like you told me to.”

“Still, we should’ve been more careful. You’re new to all of this unlike the rest of us.”

“You’re damn right you should’ve been more careful.” Marla finally bursts, nearly yelling as she speaks. “Evie’s nothing like you and your team.”

“What’re you saying, Marla?” Evie winces as she turns to look at Marla, who stands behind her head.

“I’m saying that you’re in over your head and it’s his fault.”

“I never,” Chuck starts when Evie interrupts him. She’s gotten herself turned on the couch so that her feet are on the floor and she can better see the both of them.

“No, Chuck. Let me.” Evie winces from the speaking and movement but continues speaking. “Marla this isn’t Chuck’s doing. Do you know that he didn’t even want me on the team? The boss had an idea and we had to convince him that it’d work. Right, Chuck?”

“Right. She’s not even allowed in the field until she can pass the training and given last week, that’s not going to be for several months yet,” Chuck says.

“Sorry,” Evie says quickly. “They were his rules, Marla. And last week really was my stupidity. I thought I had the course down, but I didn’t. You know how I tend to leap before I look.”

“That’s exactly why you can’t do this, Evie,” Marla says, her tone calming as she takes a seat on the couch next to her friend. “You’re the type who doesn’t think about all of the consequences until you hit a problem. You’re going to get yourself hurt and then what?”

“If I may,” Chuck begins after a pause, “this training is actually designed to get her to think ahead. If she can’t learn to do that, then she won’t go out in the field. And even if she does, she’s not going into active danger situations.”

“You think you can train this fool-heartiness out of her? Ha. I’ll believe it when I see it.”

“Marla!” Evie twists to look at her friend, a hurt look on her face.

“It’s the truth, Evie, and it’s why I don’t want you doing this. You’re going to get hurt. You could die.”

“Maybe but either of us could on any day. Remember the kind of trouble I got into before this job? How many times did I wind up in the ER because I did something without thinking? And how many times was I caught alone? At least if I’m hurt, then I’ll have a team to help me. I’m not going to be alone.”

“Is that the only reason for this, Evie? So, you won’t be alone?”

“No, not entirely. I do like the team and it’s nice to work with other people instead of spending all of my time alone writing and researching, but it’s also exciting and challenging. There’s something new every day to try to solve and I’m helping people, Marla. I’m actually using my skills to help people.” She can’t contain her excitement and it leaves her leaning over, arm around her broken ribs as she cries out in pain.

“Steady breathes, Evie,” Marla says. “Just keep breathing. Okay?” She rubs a hand on Evie’s back, hoping to help calm her but it doesn’t. She only gets worse with her breathing growing ragged.

“Let’s get her lying down back with some of those pillows behind her to help her breath better,” Chuck says, stepping forward to help Marla. She hesitates for a moment but sees the worried look on his face and realizes that he really does care about Evie. She gets up and together they move Evie, ignoring for the moment her cries and breathing.

“Do you have a couple of ice packs,” Chuck asks once they have Evie situated.

“Yeah,” Marla says, a little confused.

“They’ll help her pain until we can get her calm enough to eat and take the painkillers.”

Marla nods and get the ice packs from the kitchen, bring back a couple of dish towels as well to wrap the ice packs in. Once the packs are placed on Evie’s broken ribs, Chuck and Marla kneel on the floor next to the couch to try to watch her and remind her to breathe.

“You really do just want to make sure that she’s safe,” Marla says, though Chuck can pick up the slightest bit of a question in her tone.

“Of course. She’s on my team and I wouldn’t want anything to happen to any of my teammates.”

“You do know that she’s going to be the cause of most of your ER visits?”

“I had picked that up over the last several months of knowing her. I didn’t know that office work could be so dangerous.”

“Still… here,” Evie croaks.

“Just where we want you,” Marla says, smiling for the first time that weekend. “Now, how about that toast and then your painkillers?”

“You’re not… mad anymore?”

“No. I’m worried but that’s because you’re my friend and I will always worry that something will happen to you. But no, I understand why you want to do this now and I think you’re as safe as you can be.”

“Good. Then, yes. I’ll take the toast and painkillers.”

[kldubois]

Lessons in Looking 6/?

Title: A Shot in the Eye

Words: 1744

After the incident where she and Chuck had been taken captive things change at work. She’s not fired, though her boss clearly isn’t happy and the others seem to take more notice of her. Despite her boss’ dissatisfaction with her, she was sent on the company teambuilding exercises. Seeing as she was on Chuck’s team, she imagines that a lot of it has to do with him. He’s been much more talkative with her, hanging around far more than he used to and asking about what she’s doing. It’s nice but she’s trying to work.

The last teambuilding exercise of the day is a friendly game of paintball, which turns out to be not as friendly as Evalyne expects. She’s on Chuck’s team, which is fine with her because she remembers how good he was at getting them out of the building a few months ago.

And it’s all going well until she’s caught in the middle of moving from one stack of hay bales to another as Chuck and his team are directing her. She’s more of a burden to them, she knows, but she’s trying to be alert and think strategically. Several minutes into the game and she hasn’t been shot, which she counts as a victory. In fact, someone else on the team is shot first so she’s ecstatic.

She’s one of the last to advance forward, standing on the edge of the course where the ravine acts as a natural boundary and it’s then that she’s caught. It’s by surprise too when she’s hit with a few paintballs in the chest and one on her goggles. She stumbles first, the shot to the eye-catching her off-guard. Then her feet find unsteady ground and her arms flail, but she somehow holds onto the paintball gun. In slow motion, it seems, she’s falling backward without an end until she finds it in the hard, frozen ground of the ravine, where she tumbles without purposeful direction. On the way to the bottom, she hits some trees, goes over loose branches, and rocks until she comes to a halt on the bottom, lying winded and dazed in the couple inches of water.

When she opens her eyes, she’s staring up at the tree-covered sky, which is blurry and fades in and out. Someone’s calling for her. Several voices and she recognizes them but she can’t form a response. The longer she’s awake, the more she starts to feel, from her aching head to her arm that she can’t even move to her chest which hurts with each breath. She’s so caught up in her own mind and pain that she startles when someone lands next to her. The movement makes the pain peak and she cries out.

“Sorry. Did I hit you, Evalyne?” It’s Chuck and even under the pain, she can hear his concern.

She shakes her head, unable to find her voice other than to moan at the pain.

“Okay. The team’s going to get an ambulance and some equipment to get you out of here. Given the fall you had, I’m not going to mess with moving you until they get here. I don’t want to cause a permanent injury.” He kneels next to her.

She’s grateful for his thoughtfulness. He’s a good investigator and is close to being made the leader of his own team. Irritated by not being able to see him clearly out of the half paint covered googles, she tries to remove them but doesn’t get far before the pain is too much and her vision whites out. When she comes back to herself, Chuck looks even more worried. He reaches to remove the goggles, pulling them carefully down so they’re hanging loosely around her neck.

“Now, can you tell me what hurts,” he asks.

“Ev… ever’ing?”

He chuckles lightly. “I’m going to need you to be a little more specific. For example, I’m guessing your head is hurting by your pinched face and the fact that you were unconscious for at least a minute.”

She nods and immediately regrets it.

“Okay. Well, what else hurts?”

“Arm. Chest.”

“Are those the worst?”

“Yeah,” she says breathlessly as another wave of pain hits.

“Okay. Good news is that it doesn’t look like they hurt because you’re bleeding heavily from anywhere.”

“Fan… fuck…ing…tastic.”

“Right now I know that’s not much of a comfort, but surely you know from your writing that this is a good thing.”

“Hey, Chuck,” Adam calls out from the top of the ravine. “The rescue team’s coming down to get her. Anything serious?”

“Aches and pains. Nothing bleeding unless it’s internal,” Chuck says. She can see the rescue team, all dressed in orange, already making their way down. Between them, they carry a metal stretcher and a medical bag. At some point in her writing, she thinks she’s probably written this very scene, though there’s usually much more peril like a rainstorm so they’d slip a few times. But then she’d also be hurt much worse, like the lack of bleeding would mean that there was internal bleeding and none of them would know about it until they tried to move her and she cried out or when she passed out and her blood pressure crashed and she was critical. Or she’d have broken a rib that would have punctured a lung and then she’d start coughing….

“Hey, Evalyne, you still with me,” Chuck asks, looking down at her worriedly. He’s shaking her shoulder gently.

She cries out at the pain his shaking causes. Her chest is on fire and her lungs freeze as she tries to breathe through the waves.

“Damnit it,” he says, voice low and angry. “I’m sorry. I didn’t even think. I was thinking that the concussion might be worse than we thought.”

“Okay.”

“How’s the pain?”

“Still… there.”

“Any worse? Anything new?”

“No, as long as I don’t move and you… don’t t… touch me.”

“Sorry.”

“I kno… I know you d… didn’t…”

“Shut up, Evalyne. You’re just making yourself worse by trying to talk.”

“You… started.”

“I know, I know and I’m going to stop asking you questions. Just stay alert for me, okay? I don’t want you drifting off and not hearing me again. I thought something serious was happening to you.”

“Sor…ry.”

“I said, shut up. You’re not very good at taking orders are you?”

She carefully shakes her head, wincing at the pain it still causes. It’s mild in comparison to the rest of her pain, but Chuck’s good at distracting her. She’s warmed by the concern he is showing. She hadn’t expected it. She fell out of her own clumsiness.

When the rescue team arrives, they quickly push Chuck to the side so they can assess Evalyne. She does her best to answer their questions but the more she’s asked to speak and the more they touch her, the worse everything is. Her head is pounding and she feels like a vice is constricting her chest. And it only gets worse when they put the collar around her neck. They’re careful but she can’t stop the cry of pain nor the tears.

“Hey, hey. It’s fine.” Chuck’s at the top of her head, his hands on either side of hers, looking down at her reassuringly. “Okay? Just keep breathing.” He takes some deep breaths to encourage her. She tries to mimic his breathing but it’s hard with the pain as they work to put her on a backboard. It means turning her on her side while holding the already splinted arm. They couldn’t say if it was a sprain or a break. They’ve splinted her leg as well, which she didn’t realize was injured.

Chuck stays with her, talking quietly as the rescue team works to get her secured on the backboard and then in the stretcher. The small dose of painkiller they give her starts having some effect by the time they’re getting ready to pull her up. Between the two of them and Chuck’s team at the top, they pull her back up as carefully as they can manage.

It’s a slow process as they try not to jostle her too much, but it does little to quell the pain. She tries to hold back the cries of pain, not wanting to seem weak in front of Chuck’s team but halfway up, she doesn’t bother anymore and after a particularly bad jostle, the pain spikes enough that she welcomes the unconsciousness that comes.

When she wakes next, it’s slow and her mind is clouded but she’s not hurting. Gone is the green, replaced by the white sterileness of a hospital room. Marla’s there as is Nate and she thinks she sees Chuck in the corner. Marla’s on her feet as soon as she sees Evalyne looking more alert and helps her drink some water.

“You back with us,” Marla asks.

“What?” Evalyne looks between them, confused.

“You’ve been in and out since they pulled you from the ravine,” Nate explains.

“Oh. Sorry.” She remembers the ravine and pain but a lot of it is still fuzzy.

“Not your fault.”

“No, that would be mine,” Chuck says, stepping away from the wall for the first time. “I shouldn’t have stuck you so close to the edge. Probably shouldn’t have even taken you out there considering you’re not a field agent.”

“If I remember right, you didn’t shoot me,” Evalyne says.

“No, and that eye shot was against the rules. He’s been reprimanded for it.”

“Don’t. It’s fine.”

“Fine?” Marla’s voice goes up in disbelief. “You have a sprained knee, a broken arm, bruised ribs, and a concussion. That’s hardly fine, Evie.”

“True but it was an accident, right?”

“He says it was,” Chuck says.

“Then don’t be too rough with him.”

“It’s not really up to me, but I’ll let the boss know.” Chuck excuses himself for a moment to go make a call.

“You don’t need to be worrying about work,” Marla says. “Right now, you need to be resting. Now, try to relax.”

“Do you need anything,” Nate asks.

“This fuzziness to go away but no,” Evalyne says.

“That’s the painkillers and the concussion. Get some rest like Marla said and it’ll start to get better.”

Evalyne nods and tries to settle back down to rest. Sleep seems at first to be the furthest thing from her mind but her body quickly lets her know that sleep is exactly what she needs.

[kldubois]

Lessons in Looking 5/?

Title: An Unexpected Situation

Words: 1777

It was supposed to be a simple desk job, editing and writing reports. And for the last few months, it had been. Part of the job was for research, but the other part was from necessity. With her latest book hard to finish, or rather begin, her publisher had refused to give her any more advance payment and had given her six months to produce a first draft or her contract was canceled.

She enjoyed her work at the private investigative firm she’d been hired at. The work was fun and easy. There was always something interesting going on and she routinely picked up new tidbits of information that she filed away for use later. So far, nothing had struck her in terms of her book and she hated the first thirty pages she’d struggled to write but it was something towards a first draft.

And now, tied to a chair, with ropes around her chest, legs, and arms to secure her, she wonders how she got into this position. She does know how; she hasn’t taken that many hits that she doesn’t know but somehow they’ve mistaken her for one of the investigators. She’s not even supposed to leave the office except for coffee and food runs. Her boss was very clear on that, saying something about the last person to have her job nearly got an entire team killed with their antics. She had, has, no desire to do the same and not just because she doesn’t want to cause danger. She really needs this job.

“Tell me, what are you looking for,” the man gruffly says. His tone no longer makes her jump but she’s pretty sure that if she had any idea what he was asking about she’d spill the beans. Chuck, the guy who brought her, was unconscious. They’d knocked him out upon capture, though that was probably because he fought back unlike her. She froze, which she’s kicking herself for. All of those months of self-defense training and she fucking freezes when she’s attacked by a group of heavily-muscled men with stern looks holding guns at them.

She froze and they brought her here, tying her up without a fight. How they still think she’s an investigator, she doesn’t know. Maybe they’re really stupid.

Oh, that’d be a really cool story idea, she thinks. Before she can think much more, she’s punched in the gut, leaving her gasping and straining at the ropes to try to quell the pain.

“Tell me what you’re here for? Who are you looking for?”

How the hell is she supposed to speak when she can’t even breath, she thinks.

“Feeling a little mouthy, are we,” he says, taking a swaggering step towards her. Did she say that out loud? Shit.

“It’s been known to happen.” He grins menacingly. “I’m known to punch ‘em so hard they can’t even tell you what color the sky is, so consider yourself lucky. So far.”

Lucky? Not with this bad breath.

“Quite confident, too. You little girl, you think you can take me on?” He flexes his arms in front of her, clenching his hands into large fists that make her swallow heavily at the thought of them hitting her again. She’s not trained for this sort of thing. They don’t even trust her to lock up the building.

She looks over at Chuck, who’s still limp, head hanging to the side in a position that’s going to give him a stiff neck. He’ll be a bear about that. Apparently, with the type who works at the firm, it’s the small things that they complain about. The second they shut up is when something must be wrong. She’s not supposed to be here. She’s supposed to be heading home probably now. Marla and Sir Galahad will be there, waiting on her. A new season of the Bake-off was scheduled to drop on Netflix tonight and they had plans to binge it. She has to get out of here and home. And she supposes it might be a good thing to help Chuck out of his predicament, too.

“It doesn’t take confidence to know that you’re all talk and no bite,” she says with instant regret. What the hell does that even mean and what is her plan? Does she even have one for getting out?

“No bite, eh?” He pounds one hand in the other, grinning at her. She forces herself not to gulp. She’s an investigator, after all, apparently, or so they think, and she can’t back down. She’s never been one to back down from a challenge before and she won’t stop now.

“No,” she says firmly.

He hits her again, a hard punch to her cheek that snaps her head to one side and draws blood. She hisses as she draws her head back and fixes him with a defiant look. It’s a trick she used with her brother and younger sister. A hard, firm glare that doesn’t waver. It got them to stop being annoying and maybe it’ll stop this guy too.

Still, she thinks, she needs a plan. A real plan. Maybe that’s the sort of thing they teach you in investigator’s school. Is there such a thing as investigator’s school? She’d flunk out for sure, she thinks.

Damnit, those TV detectives make this look easy. Just sit there, talk back, and, bam (literally), you come up with a plan.

“Trying to be smart, eh,” he says inches from her. Then a moment later, slightly uncomfortable, he says, “Stop that. Now. I mean it. Stop that.”

She lets a smirk slip and then his hand is on her throat, the large meaty hand easily grasping around her slim neck. The ground first disappears from under her feet and then, in a single sudden motion, the air is knocked out of her when she’s thrown on to the ground by the neck. Her head smacks the concrete painfully and she sees stars.

Before she has a chance to recover, the grip tightens and she feels her throat constrict. Soon, her lungs start to burn and beg for air. All she can think about is the bruising this is going to leave. She knows. She’s done the research. His handprint will be visible in the bruise and for days she’s going to wheeze and cough painfully. If she’s lucky, she’ll avoid the hospital, but she could be stuck there. Intubation might even be in her future.

She’s not even supposed to be here. The Bake-off and Marla and Galahad are waiting for her. They don’t even know that she can’t breathe, that she’s panicking as her body aches for a good breath. She just needs one good breath and then he can go back to choking her.

Consciousness is fleeting when the hand disappears, someone speaks, yells, and there’s a scuffle. She vaguely hears hits, smacks, and groans, but she’s still gasping for air, enjoying the freedom of lack of a choking grip, but crying at the pain each breath brings. She can’t even move, tied up as she is. Why would anyone want to be an investigator?

“Hey, Evalyne.” Chuck appears in front of her, looking down concerned. He quickly unties her, cutting the ropes with ease and helping her out and away from the chair.

“You with me,” he asks quietly, worry clear.

“Y… y,” she tries to speak but gives up when she can’t form the words and her throat burns at the attempt. Instead, she nods.

“Good. We need to get going. He’s unconscious and tied up, but we need to get away from here.”

She nods again and tries to get to her feet in a rush to leave, but they don’t support her and she collapses back to the ground.

“Let me help you up. Okay? Just lean on me and I’ll get you out of here and back to your home.”

She nods again, grimacing as she swallows. It’s worse than the worst cold she’s had. Chuck’s true to his word though. He helps her up and supports her all the way out. They have to hide a few times and one time he disappears, coming back out of breath and telling her that they have to get going. But they do make their way out safely, walking or limping until they stumble across the first safe gas station where Chuck manages to talk his way into using their phone to call for an ambulance. He really has a way with words, she’s noticed.

Weak and struggling to get a decent breath, she doesn’t fight him on the ambulance. Marla is going to kill her for this and her insurance company will either raise her premiums or drop her. Not quite the worst day ever, she thinks, but it certainly feels that way. And on top of it all, she’s so fired when her boss finds out about this.

“You did good in there. I’m sorry I got you caught up in that mess,” Chuck says. The gas station employees have let them into the break room to sit while the ambulance comes. It was nice of them and it also stopped the hesitant stares they were getting from chasing off customers.

“It… ‘ine,’ she rasps, swallowing with a grimace.

“No, it’s not. I shouldn’t’ve taken you there, but I thought it would be safe and that you’d like to get out of that stuffy office for a while. You always look so curious when we’re talking about missions and stuff.”

“Cu.. cu…”

“Don’t try to talk. I can tell you from experience that talking right now is only going to make it worse.”

She shrugs her shoulders and sighs.

“Anyway. Don’t worry about your job. I’ll take responsibility. Our dear old boss likes me, so he won’t fire me over this.”

She raises an eyebrow at him, sending him a doubtful look.

“Well, like might be a bit strong, but I do have a good track record, so he’d be stupid to fire me. Either way, don’t worry. It was my fault, so I’m taking the blame. I’m just sorry you got hurt so badly.”

She wants to tell him that it’s fine. She’s not an adrenaline junkie or danger-seeker, but she has had her share of ER and doctor’s visits, so this really isn’t terrible. It’s not even the worst thing. But it is new and interesting. So, as they fall into a companionable silence waiting for the ambulance, she mentally logs all of her symptoms and problems, storing them for a story that she’ll write one day. This is too good of stuff to pass up.

[kldubois]

Lessons in Looking 4/?

Title: A Stupid Thing to do

Words: 1074

A/N: This one takes place a few years in the past and we meet a new character.

TW: Blood

For the first several moments she doesn’t even know it had happened. She thinks she’d just been punched by them in the skuffle before they ran off, but then, when she starts walking, moving away from the alley, there is a sharp pain in her side. She puts a hand over it, holding the area to quell the pain and it’s wet. Her hand comes back red and suddenly her knees don’t support her anymore.

A kid makes sure that she doesn’t crack her head open as she tumbles to the ground. He’s not really a kid but she’s at that age where anyone five years younger is a kid. He looks worried as he talks to someone on the phone. She doesn’t hear the conversation, the pain overwhelming her senses.

“Hey, lady… ma’am. They said you have to stay awake,” he says, voice urgent. He removes his flannel shirt to put on the wound, trying to ignore the cry of pain she makes when he presses down. They said to do this as did common sense and he had to ignore the discomfort from her and himself because this was important to stem some of the blood flow.

“St…stop,” she moans.

“No. They said it’d be about ten minutes until the ambulance got here and I gotta keep you awake and alive.”

“Def… definitely alive,” she says quietly, gasping; speaking fucking hurts.

“Yeah…” They fall into an awkward silence feeling the depths of being strangers. “You know that was kind of stupid, jumping in the middle of them attacking me,” he says after a moment.

“Yeah, probably.” She can’t really find a way to disagree with him now that it’s all over. Marla is going to kill her for this.

“You some a police officer or something?”

“No.” She gasps at a spike of pain.

“Army, navy?”

“No. I’m a writer.”

“Like an investigative journalist?”

“No, f… fiction.” She cries out as he pushes down more on the flannel shirt pressed against her side. It’s necessary she knows but she’d like him to ease up because it’s not helping the pain. In the back of her mind, she scans through what she’s written, wondering how accurate she’s gotten knife wounds. There’s some new data coming in to improve the writing.

“You’re a fiction writer?” He gives her a puzzled look.

“Yeah… e… even got one published.” She breathes carefully against the pain.

“Well… um, congrats. You got a death wish or something?”

“My best friend thinks so,” she says. “And the nurses and doctors. And the insurance company.”

“You get into some trouble regularly?”

“Don’t mean to. It just happens.” She tries to shrug her shoulders, but the slightest move ratchets up the pain a few levels and she sees stars.

“Like today?”

“Yeah.” It doesn’t matter how brief her words, the pain won’t lessen.

“Well, it was stupid. I had it all under control.”

She raises an eyebrow at him as best as she can, wincing at the pain.

“Okay, maybe not, but letting them get away with my wallet and phone was better than this.”

“Probably, but I… I’ve been told I… don’t think.” She’s feeling strange now, lightheaded, fuzzy, and weak. The pain is still there and any movement, even the careful breathing causes it to spike. Her eyes drift closed against the pain and growing weakness.

“Hey, hey. They said no sleeping and considering you save me from getting robbed, you have to listen to me.”

“How… how the hell… does it work out that way?” She fixes him with a slightly incredulous look.

“I… I don’t know, but you can’t die because I was stupid and took a shortcut down an alley just to get to class quickly.” His worry and panic take over his voice as he speaks quickly and stumbles over his words.

“Not dying.”

“You’re bleeding pretty badly, ma’am. I’d say you are.”

“Ev… Evalyne,” she says, shaking her head slightly.

“Huh?”

“My name.”

“Oh. I’m Nate. I’m a student at the university.”

“Nice to me… meet you, Nate. What… what’re you st… studying?” She tries hard to keep her eyes open. He’s quite a brave young man to stick around with her and she doesn’t want to cause him any more worry or concern. It wouldn’t do for him to panic that she was dying even though a part of her realizes that this is about as serious a situation as she’s been in.

“Linguistics and history.”

“Am… bitious.”

“That’s what everyone says.” He smiles slightly.

“Do you like it?”

“Yeah. It’s so much fun.” His face lights up despite the situation.

“Then don’… don’t worry about others.”

“That’s what my mom says.”

“She’s… right.”

Nate pulls the cloth away, bunching it up in a different way to find a dry spot. When he presses it back on the wound, Evalyne cries out, her body twisting away from him. Where’s that ambulance, he thinks.

“You’re staying with me, right,” he asks when her eyes start closing again. She’s paler, more than before, and her breathing is shallowed and ragged. He shakes her with his free hand, hoping to keep her awake. For a brief second her eyes open with some awareness, a sort of understanding he thinks and a peacefulness, before they close again and she goes limp.

“Damnit,” he says lowly and redoubles his pressure on the wound. It’s probably a futile effort, but all he can think is that she can’t lose any more blood. If only she’d be okay, he thinks, he’d never take a shortcut again. He’ll be late to class every day, taking the penalty to his grade. His professors didn’t know that he worked as a barista, he couldn’t tell them. She can’t die because of his shame and guilt. That’d be so much worse. His professors and classmates, they’d all find out and they’d pity him and shun him. He’d never find his place there.

As he’s swirling in his thoughts, he doesn’t hear the ambulance arrive, realizing their arrival only when two paramedics push him aside and start questioning him. He answers as fully as he can. He thinks they’ll leave him there. He’s fine, after all. But they take him too. They wrap a blanket around him and, after loading Evalyne up, they guide him into the back, too, and once everything’s set, they speed away to the ER where maybe, hopefully, they’ll save Evalyne.

[kldubois]

Lessons in Looking 3/?

Title: “That doesn’t count!”

Words: 936

“I’m telling you that it’s your appendix,” Evalyne says, frustration clear as she’s been trying to convince Marla that she needs to go to the ER.

“No, it’s not. I just got a cold, probably yours from last week,” Marla says from the couch where she’s huddled under a blanket, curled on her side to deal with the ache from her stomach. She wishes she could just throw up, but her stomach remains steadfast in its nausea.

“I know this sort of thing. You’ve got all of the early symptoms of appendicitis.”

“You don’t… know this sort of thing.” Marla winces as a particularly unpleasant wave of nausea and cramps hits. Fuck. Could she just throw up already? “And don’t tell me you did research on this. That was for fan fiction. WebMD and Wikipedia don’t count.”

“I’ll have you know that that was my most popular one-shot and reviewers said it was very realistic.”

“People on the internet, fans like you,” Marla corrects. “Now, please, just leave me lay here in my misery. Go do your writing thing or whatever it is you have planned for the day.”

“You think I’m leaving you right now? No, you have appendicitis and refuse to admit it. Sooner or later you’ll need someone to take you to the ER.” Evalyne sits down in the armchair nearby, crossing her arms as she watches and waits.

“Ugh…” Marla huffs and tries to turn away. She doesn’t make it far before she cries out in pain, clutching at her abdomen.

“That’s classic appendicitis.”

“Shut… up…,” Marla says between gasps, giving Evalyne the best glare she can muster.

“Of course. Whatever you say. Just let me know when you’re ready to give in.”

Marla sighs. There are good things about living with a writer and there are bad things. The random pacing and talking to herself are annoying, but this spouting of random information has to be the most annoying. Sure, it’s great when they’re watching Jeopardy or doing a pub quiz, but in times like these when she just had a simple stomach bug and Evie insisted that it was an emergency situation, it was irritating. The woman surely had better things to do than sit and watch her be sick.

But as the minutes pass, it seems that she doesn’t. And as time winds on, the pain doesn’t let up and she feels worse. She can’t stop the groan that comes from her.

“Marla?” There’s concern in Evie’s voice and Marla’s sure that she’s closer. Marla turns slowly on to her side, seeing that Evie is now kneeling by the couch, down near her chest.

“Ev…” Sharp pains cut her off and she curls up tighter, wrapping her arms around her stomach. Then Evie is lifting her up and she’s coughing. The pain that brings pales in comparison to her stomach. Still, she wishes Evie would just let her lay back down. She tries to get Evie to let her go with a weak hand wave, but it doesn’t work. Too weak.

When she’s done coughing, Evie lays her back down gently. She’s talking to someone on her phone, giving her concerned, appraising looks. It’s unnerving.

“Ev…ie. Stop…” Marla’s voice is weak, even to her.

“Ambulance is on its way,” Evie says when she ends her call. “They said it was safer to go by ambulance than me trying to drive you in.”

“’m ‘ine.”

“Yeah and I’m careful and sensible. You’re going in and if it really is nothing more than a bad stomach bug, then you can have the last laugh.”

“No… you eat break… fast for a year.”

“A bet, right now?” Evalyne sighs, rolling her eyes. “Fine, if you’re right I’ll actually eat breakfast for a year.”

“Not pizza.”

“It’s better than cereal. It’s been proven,” she retorts.

“Not pizza.”

“Fine, real breakfast food then. And you, if I’m right, and I know that I am, you have to spend two days a month being completely spontaneous.”

Marla agrees with a gasp as a wave of pain and nausea hit. She’s comforted some by the consistent presence of Evie. Her friend holds her hand, massaging it gently, talking to her gently as she encourages her to keep breathing.

“The ambulance will be here soon, Marla. Just another couple minutes, okay?” This is as bad as Evie’s seen Marla. It’s normally her getting sick or hurt this bad. She knows what’s wrong and she knows what could happen, how bad it could get if they don’t get her to the hospital soon. Infection is probably already setting it. Symptoms like these always say infection and that’s dangerous. It’s hospital and ICU dangerous. It could kill her. It could take her best friend away and leave her alone.

“S…stop that,” Marla chides weakly, glancing up at Evie. She knows the worried look well. “I’m… fine.” She gives Evie the best encouraging smile she can muster, regretting when it’s turned by another wave of pain.

“O…of course. You’re fine. Why wouldn’t you be? You always are. I’m probably wrong and overreacting like usual.” Evie chatters on and Marla lets her because at least then she’s not stuck in her mind, thinking of increasingly worse outcomes all of which leave her alone. Evie never says anything about it, but Marla knows it’s her worst fear. Being alone. So, she lets the constant chatter flow over her, taking some comfort in them.

And for the next year, Marla finds herself taking two completely spontaneous days a month. Sometimes she spends them with her boyfriend, Mark, but they’re often spent with Evie.