Frankie stood in the centre of the room surrounded by half a dozen boys telling tales of her glamorous lifestyle. For an unknown reason to Frankie, the captivated audience around her was thrilled by high fashion photography; spending the day ordering around waif goddesses as they stare soullessly into her lens. She was in the middle of indulging in the frat boys' unending interrogation of which model was the coolest (Kathyrn Amid, by far), when she saw Barbara skip down the stairs after Dick. As Barbara approached her cluster, she gave her best friend a knowing glance while she downed the last of her drink. Barbara returned the look with a glare and Frankie knew not to prod. At least not yet. The ride home would be fun.
Frankie continued her story, with exaggerated hand movements. She was feeling bizarre; her heart raced a little too fast like she was nervous, but Frankie was accustomed to having crowds hang on her every word since she was a kid. She felt a heat on the back of her neck, and realized she was sweating a bit. She stopped speaking in the middle of a thought, derailed from a sudden shortness of breath. She took a deep inhalation to slow her heartbeat. Barbara stepped next to her, placing a hand on her shoulder. She leaned in to Frankie's ear, whispering, "You okay?"
Her friend's concern spiked a panic inside of her. She shook her head. Immediately Barbara's grip engulfed her hand and she was being guided outside into the cool air. Frankie has never had a panic attack before, nor was she prone to anxiety.
Barbara turned to her friend, placing her hands lightly on her shoulders, looking into her eyes. Frankie's pupils were dilated. Her forehead was visibly sweating. Her breath was shallow.
"Let's get you home." Barbara slowly wrapped an arm over Frankie's shoulders, leading her away from the house. Frankie took two steps before her body went ridged against Barbara's lead. She turned away from Barbara's grasp, looking at her friend wide eyed as if she was unrecognizable. She took a few steps backwards, tripping on her own feet and landing hard on the pavement. Her breathing kept racing; any noise or movement in her peripheral made her skin crawl. She felt sick.
Barbara knelt beside Frankie. She reached out for her as Frankie's eyes rolled back and she passed out. Barbara caught her head just before it hit the ground. Her whole body had gone limp in Barbara's arms. She looked up for help but found the once packed lawn empty. She reached for her phone, calling for an ambulance.
After ending the call with the dispatcher, she called Grayson. She felt terrible for bothering him, but she was at a loss for how to handle herself and his voice tended calm her nerves.
"Babs, what's wrong?" She immediately heard when the line connected. A phone call was not in their repertoire lately.
"It's Frankie. She's collapsed. She seemed, scared," Barbara couldn't think of another word to describe the terror she saw in her friend's eyes.
"Where are you?" Grayson's voice was concerned.
"Literally eight feet from the front door of the frat house."
"I'm on my way," Grayson hung up the Bluetooth and made a sharp right turn. Luckily he took his car tonight. It'd be a tight fit with a third, unconscious person, but he figured he would get to them before the ambulance did.
And he was right. He pulled up four minutes later to find Barbara sitting on the patch of damp grass, holding her friend's head in her lap. He threw the stick shift into park, and leapt out of the car, leaving the door open as he ran to pick up the unconscious body. Barbara let him carry her roommate as she scurried to open the passenger door. Grayson gently placed her in the bucket seat.
"Go," he said over the door. Barbara was perched on the passenger window watching him buckle in Frankie. He jerked his head towards the driver's side.
She didn't have to be told twice. Barbara jumped to the other side, sliding into the idle car. She looked to her right to see Grayson adjusting Frankie's head.
"I'll meet you there," he said as he shut the door. Barbara pushed down on the gas, propelling herself towards Gotham General, twenty minutes north of 14th St.
In Grayson's Porsche, she made it there in eight.