fandomhigh | Gym, afternoon

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!event: snow weekend

Gym, afternoon

The reports coming in from her clone troopers were worrying to say the least. Tex scanned around the gym seeing no one in charge and cursed. Who the hell was in charge at this school? Even Church was better at organising things. Changing the channel to communication systems, she finally found the right wavelength and the P.A. crackled to life.

"... stupid useless... Alright, that's better. Okay, listen up you anklebiters. Town's under attack by some sort of... I can't believe I'm fucking saying this... snow monsters. They got tentacles and you can shoot them but they'll kinda just reform a while later. Yeah, this should be fun. I suggest you all get some weapons and defend yourself. And if I see anyone of you adolescent fucktards heading into town to get in my troopers way I'll rip out your skull."

She turned off the communications and looked around her.

"Right, now what kind of firepower do you guys have here? You better not all be like that Canadian dictionary loving pacifist."

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"I really hate you," she muttered, then closed her eyes as the room did the dip-and-swerve again. She was finally starting to warm up, but it was in flash increments that increased her nausea. "My ankle's not broken. It's just-- I don't know. Please don't cut the boot off. I lose more boots this way...."

"I heard you asking for a penlight," said Janet, pulling out a spare from her med kit. She'd ask Jarod later about his medical capabilities, and watch at first to make sure he knew what he was doing. "She broke an ankle on Zombie Weekend. I swear, Parker, is this going to be a theme with you?"

"Nausea? Blurred vision?" she asked, of either Jarod or Parker.

"Mmm," Parker muttered, then glared at Janet until it made her head hurt (about a whole two seconds). "At least it's the other foot. Make him save the boot. I don't trust him to take my Prada seriously."

"I don't know about nausea, but she's definitely seeing double and she flunked the finger test," Jarod reported, reaching down for Parker's foot. "And I believe that your foot is more valuable than Prada, Parker. Fight me for it later."

"Bill the school for a replacement," said Janet. "Or whatever brought the snow monsters."

Susan had been observing this with some concern. "I'm sorry, but who are you?" she interrupted, coming over and watching the injured young woman making faces and the young man trying to treat her. "Are you one of our student aides? I'm Dr. Pevensie."

"Jarod. No, I'm not a student, but I've had medical training."

"How much?" She went closer to observe; the cut on the girl's head looked nasty, and would probably require stitches. It was impossible to tell about the ankle without getting the boot off. "And I'm afraid you're definitely losing the boot, Miss...?"

"Parker. Damnit." Jarod's fingers on her face were warm, almost too warm, but she felt too dizzy to bat at them again. "He's competent," she said grudgingly. Then she glared at him again, as best she could. "I just hate him."

"Parker would know," said Janet, nodding at Dr. Pevensie. "She's known him for years." He did seem to know what he was talking about. "And Parker, even if you're not telling us, I'm still going to say you're nauseous."

"Fine, yes. The room is... funny." Parker growled. "Just make it stop, please?"

"Time is going to be a lot of that, Parker," said Janet. "Will you be okay if I leave you on your own for a bit?"

"Yes," she muttered. "I won't vomit. I'll stay here." She sent another narrow-eyed unfocused look at Jarod, and put her hand to her head. "Ugh. Can't we clean this up?" she asked, coming away with blood on her hand.

Janet gave her a folded towel. "After it clots nicely," she said. "Press this to your head for a while to help that out."

Parker held the towel to her head, scowling at the space in front of her.

"Can you put weight on your foot? Stand and walk?" Jarod took her foot in his hands. The ankle was swollen, and hot, even through the leather. "I think the boots are a lost cause, Parker."

Parker tried, and had to collapse back onto her cot again. "No." She looked paler than before. "That was a very bad idea."

He found a pair of scissors over by the gauze and returned. "You might not want to watch this." He slid the scissors along the leather, preparing to cut down the side of the boot. Possibly in several spots.

Parker whimpered something that sounded like, "Prada," before turning her head away. "Stupid snow monster."

Jarod smiled a little, then cut down the side and front of the boot. He eased it off gently, but stopped smiling and inhaled when he saw her foot. "Jesus, Parker."

Her ankle was purple from below the ankle bone to halfway across her instep and had swollen to the size of the inside of the boot. He laid his palm against it and tried to rotate it slightly. "You know, if you wore normal footwear, this wouldn't keep happening."

"If I wore so-called--ow!" She took a breath, then closed her eyes. "Normal footwear, I, ow ow ow, right there-- would have broken every bone in my foot." Parker swallowed, hard. "Make it stop hurting."

"It's going to hurt for a little while, Parker, but the good news is that I think it's just a sprain," he said, running his thumb lightly over the small bones. "Hold still, and I'll go get an ACE bandage."

He went over to the medical supplies and got an ACE bandage and bag of ice. "I can't give you painkillers, but at least I can wrap it for you."

Parker's foot twitched as he checked it over, and she blinked at the purplish bruise, tired and nauseous still. "Fine. Do that." She couldn't quite say thank you. But her hostility level wasn't what it was the day before. She didn't have the energy for it. "Why can't you give me painkillers?"

He began to wrap her ankle gently, but firmly. "Hold still. And I can't do that, because, as you know," he lowered his voice, "I'm not really a doctor. Someone else will have to do that for you."

Parker glared at him, but her eyes were trying to cross. Too much effort. And then suddenly, some weird effect of her concussion made everything feel like too much: his voice, his hands on her ankle, him leaning so close. She closed her eyes again. "Whatever," she mumbled. "You would if you wanted to. If you tried."

Gym, afternoon

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