His head hurt. No, it was worse than that. It didn't just hurt; it split, it screamed, it pounded. God, it was so loud, so crowded in there. So many people, so many thoughts. Everyone was so busy with something or another, and so many of them were sad or hurting. It was why he hated the infirmary. Everyone was either hurting or frantic, and thoughts were always racing.

Today was different though. Ever since he'd hit his head on that asphalt a few hours ago, it had been different. It was like all his shields had fallen; he couldn't concentrate hard enough to keep them up, so everything came flooding in. He couldn't hear their thoughts – not the words of them, anyway – but he could feel them in his head.

And the colors. Oh, God, the colors. They exploded in front of his eyes, an impossible kaleidoscope of so many colors all violently mixed together. He could hardly see anything else.

He felt moisture on his face, near his eyes, but he felt it on his forehead too. He didn't know what was tears, what was sweat, and what was blood. Was he bleeding? He didn't know if he was, but he hoped he wasn't. He hated to bleed. It got red all over everything, and he'd never looked very good in red, and it made Sky worry, too. He hated it when Sky worried. It made him feel good that someone cared, that someone like Sky could care about someone like him, but he hated to see the lines of worry mar Sky's perfect face.

"Think about Sky. Sky's nice. Sky in blue; skies are blue. Pretty and strong and warm and cool all at the same time. Think about sky. One color, one pretty color. Just one color!" he cried aloud. He couldn't hear his own thoughts in his over-crowded head. Repeated out loud, the mantra only barely managed to register over the roaring chaos going on.

"Bridge? Bridge, honey, I need you to look at me."

He knew that voice. It was so loud, so sharp. He remembered that he normally liked that voice, but he didn't know when it had gotten so shrill. Right now, it was like nails against his ears. Cat claws. Kat's claws.

"Kat. You're Kat. Orange all over, you're so bright. Please, don't be so bright," he begged. He tried to shut his eyes against it, but he could still see it in his head, burning like a fire in his brain. His stomach was churning and his body hurt all over; he was hot and cold at the same time, and nothing made sense!

"Remember your shields, Bridge."

Remember them? How could he forget them? He needed them so much, and he couldn't conjure them. he couldn't think long enough to keep them up; there was something missing in his head. Something that the color had pushed out, something that the pain had pushed out. It was so weird, to feel so tired and so frantic at the same time.

"I can't!" he screamed, and the sound of his own voice sent pain exploding behind his eyes. Everything was so loud!

Bridge was hugging his knees to his chest, his hands clamped over his ears. His eyes went between being opened and closed, but they never gave the illusion of seeing. Tears streamed from them, and the cut on his head wept blood down the side of his narrow face.

Kat was worried, and she was starting to lose her nerve which was something that never happened. Ever since Bridge had come in complaining of a headache a little while ago, he'd been going downhill fast. If she had to take a guess, she'd say he might have a concussion, which might've been interfering with his shields.

But what could she do? She couldn't send everyone out of the infirmary. Maybe though…they had a room. It was isolated, mostly used for quarantines, but she'd used it before when Bridge was having bad days. She'd never seen him like this before, but she thought that maybe it could help.

At the same time, she was afraid to move him. He was a psychometric, after all; just one brush of her skin against his could make things a hundred times worse than this. Brilliant as she was, she didn't have the mental blocks required to actually touch the young man.

In fact, on the whole base, there was only one person that seemed able to touch young Bridge directly whenever he felt like. Kisses, hugs, held hands, or just passing touches, she'd seen him touch Bridge without any problems. Resolved, she ran for the comm. desk.

"Paging Cadet Tate. You're needed in the Infirmary. It's an emergency!"