After she is stabilized at the infirmary, he stays on with her
after everyone else leaves. He stays by her side and talks to
her, knowing that she could hear him, if not comprehend what he
was saying. He stays there night after night, just talking to her
and keeping her company, letting her know that there was someone
who cared.
He really isn't sure why he's drawn to this small, shy slip of a female. He is so deep in thought that he doesn't notice the way her body starts twitching.
She opens her eyes, seeing nothing but blurs at first, and then as her eyes focus and clear, she sees Grand Slam slumped over the edge of the bed, head resting on his crossed arms, asleep. She reaches out to brush a lock of chestnut hair off of his forehead where it had fallen. He jumps and instantly wakes up.
"It's not your fault," she whispers.
He reaches out and squeezes her hand. "How are you feeling this morning?"
"Like I was that frog that just got caught in the proverbial blender..." she returns. He chuckles, reaches past her head and flicks the little red button, letting the nurses' station know that she had awoken.
Lifeline skids into the room about five minutes later, sweaty and panting. When Spitfyre looks at him a bit funny, he explains, "I was just outside playing hockey with some of the guys."
"How many of the rest of them did you bloody this time?" Grand Slam inquired, jokingly.
"Only Sci-Fi, Alpine, Steeler and Lowlight." Lifeline answers, seriously, as he begins to check Spitfyre's vital signs. He touches a spot on her arm and ducks, seeing the punch that was coming. "I take it that that's a painful spot."
She flinches. "No joke. How bad is it?"
"Well, there's good news and bad news. Three of your ribs are cracked, but are healing well, your nose won't have to be reset even though it is broken, and your back and legs are healing nicely. That's the good news. The bad news is that we didn't catch your attacker. It looks like she got clean away. I think we'll keep you until tomorrow at the earliest and Saturday at the latest, to make sure that everything is going all right. When we stitched up those cuts on your back, we also implanted a couple of steel rods to help heal your spine and when we got finished, we had to remove a good amount of scar tissue. You had one heck of a painful childhood, didn't you?"
"That's the understatement of the year," she replied to his question. "You have no idea what kind of demons are hidden within me."
"Whoa, how do you deal?" Grand Slam asked in surprise.
"It's the reason I'm the best of the best when it comes to doing my job- I throw myself into my work and forget about anything else in the world, especially my family, and especially my mother, who just escaped the mental ward of the prison a few days ago."
"You mean the one that... (gulp)...attacked us in the dojo the other day?"
She wearily nods. "Unfortunately, yes."
"Grand Slam, I think it's time to leave her and let her rest for a little while and you look like you could use some rest yourself." Lifeline notices that Spitfyre is tired and that Grand Slam is, too. Lifeline reaches over and grabs the IV line, injecting a painkiller into it. Spitfyre catches a glimpse of the bottle and knows exactly what it is and how it will affect her.
"No, Lifeline, I'll stay here to play guard." Grand Slam argues.
"No, Grand Slam, you're too tired to be any good if anything happens. I have more than one way of defending my physical body. There are multiple methods used to defur a feline."
Both Grand Slam and Lifeline look at her funny.
She shakes her head, laughing, and tells them, "In other words, boys, there is more than one way to skin a cat."
"Oh, ooookay. Here, I'll give you my phone number. If anything looks just the least bit funny, call me. I'll be here as quick as I can." Grand Slam scribbles his phone number on a piece of paper and hands it to her.
She takes it and puts it in the book on the table as a bookmark. She then closes her eyes and almost immediately falls deeply asleep, not noticing Grand Slam bending over to place a chaste kiss on her forehead. He and Lifeline leave the room quietly.
He really isn't sure why he's drawn to this small, shy slip of a female. He is so deep in thought that he doesn't notice the way her body starts twitching.
She opens her eyes, seeing nothing but blurs at first, and then as her eyes focus and clear, she sees Grand Slam slumped over the edge of the bed, head resting on his crossed arms, asleep. She reaches out to brush a lock of chestnut hair off of his forehead where it had fallen. He jumps and instantly wakes up.
"It's not your fault," she whispers.
He reaches out and squeezes her hand. "How are you feeling this morning?"
"Like I was that frog that just got caught in the proverbial blender..." she returns. He chuckles, reaches past her head and flicks the little red button, letting the nurses' station know that she had awoken.
Lifeline skids into the room about five minutes later, sweaty and panting. When Spitfyre looks at him a bit funny, he explains, "I was just outside playing hockey with some of the guys."
"How many of the rest of them did you bloody this time?" Grand Slam inquired, jokingly.
"Only Sci-Fi, Alpine, Steeler and Lowlight." Lifeline answers, seriously, as he begins to check Spitfyre's vital signs. He touches a spot on her arm and ducks, seeing the punch that was coming. "I take it that that's a painful spot."
She flinches. "No joke. How bad is it?"
"Well, there's good news and bad news. Three of your ribs are cracked, but are healing well, your nose won't have to be reset even though it is broken, and your back and legs are healing nicely. That's the good news. The bad news is that we didn't catch your attacker. It looks like she got clean away. I think we'll keep you until tomorrow at the earliest and Saturday at the latest, to make sure that everything is going all right. When we stitched up those cuts on your back, we also implanted a couple of steel rods to help heal your spine and when we got finished, we had to remove a good amount of scar tissue. You had one heck of a painful childhood, didn't you?"
"That's the understatement of the year," she replied to his question. "You have no idea what kind of demons are hidden within me."
"Whoa, how do you deal?" Grand Slam asked in surprise.
"It's the reason I'm the best of the best when it comes to doing my job- I throw myself into my work and forget about anything else in the world, especially my family, and especially my mother, who just escaped the mental ward of the prison a few days ago."
"You mean the one that... (gulp)...attacked us in the dojo the other day?"
She wearily nods. "Unfortunately, yes."
"Grand Slam, I think it's time to leave her and let her rest for a little while and you look like you could use some rest yourself." Lifeline notices that Spitfyre is tired and that Grand Slam is, too. Lifeline reaches over and grabs the IV line, injecting a painkiller into it. Spitfyre catches a glimpse of the bottle and knows exactly what it is and how it will affect her.
"No, Lifeline, I'll stay here to play guard." Grand Slam argues.
"No, Grand Slam, you're too tired to be any good if anything happens. I have more than one way of defending my physical body. There are multiple methods used to defur a feline."
Both Grand Slam and Lifeline look at her funny.
She shakes her head, laughing, and tells them, "In other words, boys, there is more than one way to skin a cat."
"Oh, ooookay. Here, I'll give you my phone number. If anything looks just the least bit funny, call me. I'll be here as quick as I can." Grand Slam scribbles his phone number on a piece of paper and hands it to her.
She takes it and puts it in the book on the table as a bookmark. She then closes her eyes and almost immediately falls deeply asleep, not noticing Grand Slam bending over to place a chaste kiss on her forehead. He and Lifeline leave the room quietly.