Anyone sick of these updates yet? Hope not cause I'm not sick of writing them.

Raven's POV

Every thought is hazy as consciousness returns to her. Her eyes are still shut tight but she hears running water coming from some other room and she feels the scratchy pillow beneath her cheek. Raven cracks her eyes, surprised at the orange light that was spilling through the window. A rush of dread floods through her when she realises that she isn't in her own bed or even her own house.

Her eyes open wide as she props herself up on an arm, making note of her surroundings as the events from earlier this morning come rushing back. "Shit," she murmurs. It felt like she'd slept for years, her blood thick like syrup and her mouth as if stuffed with cotton. That last sensation that comes back to her is the strongest. Her leg, still wrapped tight in her brace, was screaming in protest. The nerves left there were angry and burning hot with pain.

It's too much to bear. Raven knows there is no way she'll be able to get up and walk on it until it has the chance to bend and curl and stretch in other ways. Glancing around the room, looking for the owner of the apartment, she starts to undo the straps and uncoil all of the different mechanisms.

The first rush of air to her hot skin is like a cool winter breeze. It hurts in its intensity at first, but she appreciates it nonetheless. Though not visible beneath her pant leg, Raven can imagine the many indentations on her skin probably near purple by this point. She can feel the spots where her skin has chafed. Small blood stains dotted her sweatpants where the worst of it had occurred. Bending all the way forward she moves to undo the final straps all tangled around her ankle. Every muscle in her leg, though so dull in its existence, manages to scream themselves into awareness, protesting the stretching her current action required.

Expletives slip through her lips as she ignores the tears that gather in her eyes on instinct. She always thought this was a pain she would adjust to. It hardly seemed fair that she could barely feel the existence of her lower leg most of the time and yet it could still hurt this bad. She called bull shit on her luck.

"Hey, you're finally up!" Wick says in a voice too cheery. He came from behind, catching her off guard. "Are you okay?" Either her leg or her face must come into view. His entire demeanour changes as he walks over to her side of the couch, hovering too close.

She'd snap at him, tell him to back off or that she's just fine, but her teeth are clenched tight against the pain. She doesn't have the energy to gripe when her mind is wrapped up in her current agony.

"Hey, you're shaking." He sits himself on the edge of the coffee table, hands reaching out but stopping before they got too close.

Of course Wick is right, her hands are shaking too much to release the final clasps and pull the last strap through. She falls back with a grunt of frustration. It was her own fault, falling asleep with it still strapped on like this and not doing her exercises pretty much ever. Her muscles were giving up even more, denying even the simple act of stretching. Raven throws an arm across her eyes, trying to hide the way tears are starting to fall even though the worst of the pain is alleviated now that she's given up.

Due to her dulled sensations she doesn't notice anything is happening until she hears the click of release from the clasp. "What are you doing?" she snaps in anger. If she was able she'd pull her ankle away from him. "Get off."

His hands pull away, held up in surrender. "Just let me pull this last strap so you can slide this thing off."

Raven knows it probably stinks like hot, sticky skin, and that her bloodied pant leg will be visible. It's only out of true resignation that she throws her arm over top of her face again and closes her eyes. "Pull the other way, genius," she grumbles after a few seconds of him fumbling with it. When the last of it is released Raven uses the muscle in her thigh, the ones that still worked, to lift her leg just barely and let him pull the brace out and away for good. She sighs, the pain still present but the relief of the rubbing, constricted contraption blessedly gone.

A part of her feels like she should thank him. Her pride keeps her mouth clamped shut. "How long was I asleep?" she asks instead, pretending the quiver in her voice isn't there.

"I believe you were going on hour ten," he says, causing her to half sit up in surprise. She glances outside the window properly for the first time and realises that the sun is setting already.

"Fuck," she breathes. "Sorry, Wick." It hadn't been the first time she'd passed out unintentionally. Despite how much effort she put into pushing her body past any and all breaking points, she still fell apart eventually.

He waves her off, his eyes flicking to the brace for a second before they settle on her face. "No judgement here. I once fell asleep in the dentist's chair. The hygienist had to wake me up when she was done." It's something so small and trivial, but Raven appreciates his attempt at making her feel better. "I'm a little hurt you fell asleep before trying my world famous pancakes."

Before she has the chance to mock his claimed 'world famous anything' her stomach growls, cutting her off. He smiles at the sound and doesn't hesitate before standing and making his way back to the kitchen. "Don't worry; they're just as good when you heat them up!" She thinks she hears him mumble something along the lines of, "I'd know since I ate them for lunch," but she doesn't comment.

She moves while he isn't in the room to witness it. Her hands force her leg to do as she wishes. The first bend of her knee was of great relief and arduous suffering all at once. She bites the inside of her cheek hard enough to draw blood. She lets her leg hang off the couch, bending for the first time in so long that she wondered if it would ever let her straighten it out again. She uses her good leg to help scoot her to the edge of the couch, closer to the coffee table.

This was the most vulnerable she thinks anyone had seen her since those initial days in the hospital after everything had happened. Finn had been there, holding her hand and sleeping in uncomfortable chairs every night. But they were already broken. The thing to bring them back together was not going to be the guilt he suffered over her loss. That was just another crack in their fractured foundation. So she let him drive her home and help her up into the trailer for the first time. She let him prop her leg up on a pillow and make her a cup of tea. And then, just as he's fulfilling everything she needed in that moment, she sends him away.

His arguments are half-hearted. She knows he has a life to live still. He saw every day how hers was practically over already. Funny how in the end she's living each day and he's the one six feet under. It was the kind of humour that stung her heart and left the feeling of pin pricks behind her eyes.

Wick reappears before she can properly get lost in the past, plate in one hand and a cup of water in the other. Her stomach growls in response to the smell of the food but she grabs the glass from him first, downing the drink in mere seconds. She hated the feeling that clogged her mouth when she first woke up.

"I'll go look at your truck as soon as I'm done," she promises before taking her first bite. They were pancakes, standard by all measurements. But they were also hot and sticky with syrup and dripping with butter. So somehow this ordinary meal turns into the best damn thing she's ever eaten.

"Don't be stupid," he says before she's even swallowed the first bite. Her cutting is sloppy, her desire to fill her belly overriding her manners or even her pride. She was hungry and there was a plate filled with food in front of her. "It's getting dark out. No point in looking at it now."

"I'm sure there's a streetlight around here somewhere," she mumbles around a bite, crumbs collecting in the corners of her mouth. She knows he doesn't want her trying to put her brace back on and walk around on her still angry leg. She's grateful he finds a different excuse. "I swear I'll look at it tomorrow."

Wick shrugs a shoulder and picks up the TV remote up, switching the set on and kicking his feet up on the coffee table. "I'm not worried about it." He starts flipping through channels while she eats. He doesn't make any comments about how she inhales her food or when she gathers the spilt butter and syrup on her fork and eats it straight from there.

She puts her fork down when she's finally finished, wiping her mouth with the napkin that had been supplied. She felt almost sick, which she probably should considering the amount of pancakes she'd just wolfed down. Sighing, she moves to grab her brace. "What are you doing?" Wick asks and Raven knows that he's been watching her this whole time, just kind enough not to make her aware of that.

"I think it's time I get home." He'd put up with her taking over his couch the entire day and then eating his food like a ravenous dog. Her welcome had long since been overstayed. Plus she needed to go home and deal with her leg in peace.

She sees the way he eyes her leg and tries not to hate the stare that lingers just too long. He'd seen the true damage that she dealt with. It was no longer just a limp. It was something he would think about, worry over; it was why she didn't want anyone to know. As it was, things were bad enough walking around with an obvious limp and having this unsightly device out in the open for all to see.

"I mean, I could take you home now," he says but he turns his eyes back to the television and resumes his changing of channels. "Or you could watch rerurns of The Office with me and I take you home later."

The answer should be obvious. Go home, soak her leg in the tub, study some maybe, or lay awake in her bed all night. Thinking…worrying…dreaming. Raven doesn't want to like Wick. She tells herself that he's not her friend, he's someone who's helping her out with a project and in turn she was performing a favour for him. But he looks at her with soft eyes and kind smiles and she remembers what it's like to have someone to lean on. "I guess I can stay for a little bit."

"Good choice," he whispers, throwing his arms wide across the back of the couch. He laughs at all the right spots and doesn't ask her once if she's okay as Raven tries to move her leg in all the ways Abby had shown her so many months ago.

He does offer her a Hot Pocket ("shut up they're whole wheat") and pokes her shoulder when he wants to point something out.

She wonders how she got here and decides she doesn't mind, whatever the answer may be.