Ian didn't really sleep. He wanted to – since it was incredibly late and he was tired – but his hand was killing him and he just couldn't seem to get comfortable no matter how many times he shifted on the couch. Finally, he gave up, and simply sprawled there, his hand cradled protectively against his chest and his eyes glued to the window, waiting for a sign that the sun was beginning to come up while he listened to Andrew's gentle snores.
When there was finally the faintest light coming from outside, Ian rolled off the couch, making no noise in his sock feet as he walked across the living room and to the entrance hall. He opened the closet and pulled out a jacket, which he put on over his bare shoulders (his shirt having pretty much been ruined the night before) and shoving his feet into a pair of boots to keep from freezing. He grabbed a stocking hat and crammed it down over his head and ears and headed outside to check the damage to his car, quietly opening the front door to the lodge and stepping out onto the porch.
And stopped before he even took a step.
On the front lawn – or where the front lawn would be if there was actually lawn and not a lot of snow – were several deer, browsing through the few bushes that lined the perimeter of the front yard, lips delicately plucking the green leaves from their branches while avoiding the dried out brown ones. Two of the deer had fawns standing beside them, nursing while their mothers had breakfast.
Frozen in place by the serenity of the picture, Ian nonetheless looked over towards his car to make sure these deer weren't just part of some twisted forest prank, taking his mind off his car while some aggravated badgers tore up his rag top. The car was unmolested, however, and Ian looked back at the deer – only to find the entire group staring at him – surprised by his sudden arrival.
"Yeah, yeah. Scoot."
They bolted as one, the fawns running on impossibly long legs beside their mothers and the rest of the group taking off across the parking lot and disappearing into the forest, presumably after a quieter place to forage.
"Dumb things."
Ian liked deer, but only on a barbeque – or as roast, or steak or jerky. He definitely didn't feel like gawking at a bunch of them just then – besides, when he went hunting with his uncle, they never went for does anyways, and never fawns, so the deer had no interest for him. Especially as crabby as he was feeling just then as he stumped down the stairs of the lodge and waded through the snow over to look at his car, his hand throbbing in the bitter cold of the morning.
"Sonofabitch…"
The hood of the car was scratched all to shit. Looking a lot like his chest, almost all the scratches were parallel lines of four equal distances away from each other. Most of the scratches hadn't reached too much deeper than the paint job, but there were a couple that were more like gouges and Ian ran his hand along one of the deeper ones, wondering how on earth he was going to convince the insurance company to pay for that.
"Fucking bears."
Of course, he could always show the claims adjuster his chest – what better way to authenticate a story no one would ever believe otherwise? He scowled and walked around the car, looking for any more damage, but the rest of it was in good shape, the paint job gleaming in the early morning sun.
"Fucking bears."
Ian saw the marks in the snow from the scuffle with the bear the night before, and the tracks of all three of them taking off, and for a moment was seriously tempted to go find them and settle the score. But common sense asserted itself, and he fought down that urge fairly quickly. The last thing he needed was to go into the woods looking for a fight. Especially considering how easily the bear had won the first round.
The sound of a slamming door brought his attention back to the porch and he saw Doctor Fraiser coming outside. She was still dressed in her sweats – and presumably the ugly shirt she'd had on the night before – but was now bundled in a coat and woolen hat, with oversized boots on her bare feet. Ian smiled – since she was too far away to see it – and gave her a half-wave, letting her know he'd seen her. A moment later she was heading down the stairs and coming over to the car as well.
"Ouch."
Her sharp gaze took in the damage on the hood of the car just as quickly as Ian's had, and there was definitely a sympathetic wince in her expression.
"Yeah…"
Ian looked mournfully at his car.
"I suppose you can always look at this as a good way to change the color if you weren't happy with the way it looks now…"
"I suppose…"
He scowled, though. He'd liked the color it was.
Catching the look out of the corner of her eye, Janet smiled and changed the subject to one far less painful.
"How's the hand?"
"It's okay."
"I'm not going to keep you in the infirmary."
Oh yeah.
"It hurts like a motherf- it's a bit sore…"
Her smile turned into a grin, because she knew exactly what he'd been planning on saying, and was amused – and slightly touched – that he tended to watch his language around her. Especially since the only other people she'd ever seen him do that with was Cassie and Sam. Everyone else was fair game to that sharp tongue – and quick temper.
"Did you take any Tylenol?"
She'd told him to take some if he was hurting. It probably wouldn't do all that much for the pain, but it wouldn't hurt.
"Not yet. I just got up."
And it probably wouldn't help, anyways.
"How did you sleep?"
"Lousy."
She decided that he was in a fairly bad mood – but she couldn't really blame him. His car looked terrible and his hand was probably killing him.
"What were you doing up here, anyways?" She asked curiously. "I didn't think you liked the great outdoors."
"I hate them," Ian admitted. He was a city boy, after all, born and bred. The outdoors were good to get from building to building – or to hunt in – but aside from that, they weren't his cup of tea. "I was doing someone a favor."
"Ah."
She didn't pry any further, knowing that if it was really gossip worthy, she'd hear it from Cassie eventually, and if it was something more personal, then it wasn't any of her business. She shivered.
"Let's go inside. I'll look at your hand, and then see about making breakfast."
He gave her a slightly hopeful look at the word breakfast, but then he scowled again.
"Good luck. There isn't a can opener in the entire place."
Janet smiled, wondering what they'd eaten the night before, then.
"I'll see what I can do, " she promised him.
Well, it was undoubtedly more than he and Andrew would have been able to do, so Ian couldn't help but be a little optimistic as he followed her back into the lodge. He was starving.
