Disclaimer: Not mine.

Helpless 3

Trying not to fall

"Mr. Briefs!" Maron's attempt at sounding outraged was embarrassingly muffled by his bare chest pressing against her face. She struggled to free herself from the tight embrace.

Mindful of his injured foot, she pried his arms open and wriggled out of his hold. Glaring down at him, she said stiffly, "I'll get the comforter from the bed."

His only answer was to drop one eyelid in a roguish wink.

Felling more than a little flustered, Marron marched into the bedroom, dragged the quilt off the bed and carried it back to the couch. Trunks, judging by the closed eyes and loud snoring, appeared to be fast asleep this time.

Even so, she kept a wary eye on him while she tucked the comforter around his body. He didn't move, and after a moment's hesitation, she rested the back of her hand against his forehead. His skin felt cool and dry.

Satisfied, she left him sleeping and went back into the kitchen to tackle the cluttered mess in there.

An hour later, she had the counters cleared, the dishes washed and stacked, and the floor picked up and wiped over as best as she could with the frayed string mop she'd found propped up outside on the veranda.

The only source of heat she could find was a small electric fan heater, which turned out to be quite effective within the confines of the living room. In fact, she opened the door to the bedroom and the bathroom while she worked in there, and by the time she had restored some order to the house, the whole place felt quite toasty.

Sneaking back into the living room, she peeked at the man still asleep on the couch, and then began the task of picking up all the files and papers from the floor. A pair of crutches lay behind the couch. She picked them up and propped them against the wall within reach of the injured man.

After a few minutes she unearthed an expensive laptop computer from under a pile of blueprints. Obviously on loan from the office, she assumed. Casting a reproachful glance at her client, she wondered what his boss would say if he knew an expensive piece of equipment had been thrown on the floor and could easily have been stepped on.

She was disconcerted, to say the least, to discover Trunks' ice-blue eyes open and watching her with mild curiosity.

"Am I still dreaming," he asked pleasantly, "or did some kind friend arrange for an angel of mercy to visit me?"

Clutching the computer to her chest, Marron scrambled to her feet. "I hope you're feeling better, Mr. Briefs."

"Trunks. And thank you for your concern. Apart from a dull hammering in my head and an agonizing burning sensation in my ankle, I imagine I'll live. Now, who are you?"

Marron put the computer down on the corner of the only table in the room. "Marron Chestnut. I'm the temp you hired. I did introduce myself earlier, but you were not feeling very well. You probably don't remember."

She stood in awkward silence while Trunks studied her face with narrowed eyes. "I guess I wasn't dreaming then," he said at last.

"Actually, you were rather drunk. Trying to replace your painkillers with brandy."

He managed a grim smile. "That I do remember. Things got rather vague. I seem to-" He stopped short, and sent her another penetrating look. "Did I make a pass at you?"

"Not exactly. I believe you were simply trying to get warm."

He nodded obviously relieved. "I wouldn't want to start off on the wrong foot."

"Neither would I." Marron said emphatically.

Trunks closed his eyes as a spasm of pain crossed his face. "Seeing as I only have one good foot, that is," he muttered.

"Oh, wait, I found your painkillers." She hurried into the kitchen and grabbed the bottle off the counter. After running some cold water into a mug, she carried it back to the living room. "I guess it's okay to take them now. I mean, after drinking all that alcohol."

"I didn't drink that much," Trunks said, taking the bottle from her. He shook two capsules into his hand and tossed them into his mouth.

Marron handed him the mug and waited for him to swallow the pills. He looked a little pale, and she wondered if it was the pain in his ankle or the headache from the alcohol affecting him. "When did you last eat?" she asked abruptly.

He looked startled by the question. "Sometime last night, I guess. I tried scrambling some eggs this morning, but I had to sit down again and left them on too long. Where did you find the pills?"

"In the bathroom, underneath a pile of damp clothes."

"Oh, those." A look of embarrassment flitted across his face. "I threw them down there when I got home from the hospital yesterday. I apologize for the state of this place. I know it's a mess but." His voice trailed off as he looked around the room. "Well, I can see you've been busy. Did you perform the same miracle in the kitchen?"

"And the bedroom and bathroom." Marron said with a note of satisfaction in her voice. "Now all we have to do is to get you clean and fed and-"

"Wait a minute." He raised a hand as if to ward off any attempt by her to touch him. "Hold on one minute. I'm not moving off this couch. Not for you, not even for the president of the UN. I tried that this morning and I can tell you with absolute authority that the slightest movement of this ankle can cause unbearable, debilitating agony."

Marron lifted her chin and fixed him with the same stare she'd used on all five of her younger brothers and sisters when they balked at her commands. "You have to go to the bathroom sooner or later," she said smugly.

Trunks' brows raised a half-inch. Before he could answer, she added. "Since your ankle is going to hurt, you might as well get it over in one go. You'll be surprised how much better you'll feel once you are showered and dressed."

He seemed to be having trouble answering her. After a moment or two of spluttering, he muttered. "I asked for an office temp, not a nurse."

Marron shrugged. "I'm not a nurse. Not qualified, that is, but I've lots of experience in taking care of injuries. My youngest brother broke his arm three times, and one of my sisters dislocated her shoulder, and then there was the time Nuez fell out of the tree and broke his wrist."

Her client looked bewildered. "Nuez?"

"My oldest brother."

"How many brothers and sisters do you have?"

"Five." She reeled off their names. "And I'm the eldest. I took care of all of them when they were growing up since both my parents worked and-" She let her voice trail off, disturbed by the stricken look on Trunks' face.

"What's the matter?" She said quickly. "Are you hurting?"

He shook his head. "No, as a matter of fact the pain is easing, thanks to the pills."

"You're not dizzy, are you? I hope I didn't give you the pills too soon." Without thinking she stretched out a hand to feel his forehead, but he jerked back, avoiding her touch.

"I'm fine. But I think I need to go to the bathroom." He started to remove the comforter, and she moved closer, ready to help him up.

Immediately he dropped the corner of the quilt and stared up at her. "I think I can manage this one on my own."

"I don't see how you can manage anything in that tiny bathroom." Marron reached for the crutches and held them out to him. "It must be quite a challenge, living in such cramped quarters."

"I don't live here." Trunks struggled to lower his injured foot to the ground. "I live in a house at the beach with a master bathroom bigger than this entire miserable tub." His words ended in a grunt of pain as he tried to stand.

"Of course you do, if you say so." The poor man was fantasizing. She was beginning to worry that the combination of pills and booze had seriously affected his mind. Grabbing hold of his arm, she tried to steady him. "Lean on me, if it will help. I'm stronger than I look."

He stared at her, clutching the quilt to his chest as if his life depended on his hanging on to it. "You really think I live here?"

She nodded, feeling a stab of sympathy for him. "Yes, I'm afraid you do."

"You don't know who I am?"

"You're Trunks Briefs," Marron said soothingly. "Don't worry, it will all come back to you once the effort of the medication wears off."

Trunks nodded slowly, as if he didn't quite understand what she was saying. "And you've never heard of Capsule Corporation?"

Marron shook her head. "I haven't been here long. Three weeks actually. I don't know much about the city. What kind of company is Capsule Corporation? Is that who you work for?

She felt uneasy as she watched a strange expression creep over his face. He stared at her for several seconds without uttering a sound. Just as she was about to ask him if he needed to sit down again, he said softly, "Yes, that's who I work for. Capsule Corporation. I'm a draftsman there."

Marron beamed in relief. "You see? I told you it would all come back. Now, you'll need to let go of that quilt if you're going to use these crutches."

She looked discretely away while Trunks dropped the quilt and adjusted his robe. "Thank you," he muttered as he took the crutches from her. "Now, if you'll excuse me."

"Are you sure you don't want my help?"

"I'm sure. I'm getting real good at this."

She watched anxiously as he swung his long, lean body around the couch and started for the door. Unfortunately, one of the crutches got hooked in the braided rug and before she could do anything to prevent it, he stumbled, toppled over and, with an explosive curse, landed smack on the floor.

I had a really good laugh while reading your reviews. You thought that there was gonna be some action here, didn't you? Well, not yet. maybe. Hehehe

Marron is a little overweight here because I thought that a little variation from her usual perfect self would be nice. Besides, she's a great cook here. :)