Z/N

Cold, cold, cold… Waves hand in front of face. Hey, dummy, that ice cream is cold. Okay, enough yelling at myself and onto the more serious stuff. Thankies everybody who gave me a nice review… for the nice review… At least someone likes my writing, even if it is different. So, on to chapter five!

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Daisuke drifted in and out on the tides of consciousness. He remembered falling, he knew that for certain. His mind vividly recalled the feeling of having the pit of his stomach fall to his shoes. He remembered feeling the sharp pain as his ankle snapped in the crook of the root, and he remembered striking his head once more on the ground, this time as his tumble came to an abrupt end. That was where he was sure his memory faded and fantasy took over.

Vaguely he recalled the sensation of being lifted. So I'm dead, he thought dimly. Why does dying hurt so damn much? And then he was jounced slightly, for a long time. His pain increased excruciatingly, but he couldn't pinpoint where it was coming from, exactly. But if I'm really dead, he reasoned faintly, the pain should go away soon. My only regret is…

And his consciousness faded completely.

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Satoshi panted slightly as he shifted the unconscious redhead in his arms. Daisuke was still breathing—barely, but barely was better than not at all. His face was deathly pale aside from the jagged cut on his forehead, which still dribbled blood, his shallow breath leaving slight puffs of steam in the air. Even in deadweight, Daisuke's body hardly weighed over one hundred ten pounds; Satoshi carried him with little to no trouble at all.

I need to catch up with the rest of the group, Satoshi thought as he held the boy closer to him. But which way is out of here? He'd already been wandering for close to twenty minutes, and he wasn't sure he was even going the right way. As he stumbled slightly over a stone half-hidden in the dead shrubbery and snow, he heard Daisuke moan softly in pain. Damn! He's fading fast. I have to get him somewhere…

As if in answer to his silent thought, the mists swirled away somewhat, revealing the mouth to a cave. The ceiling of the entranceway was low, requiring him to bend at the waist to crawl inside. He wasn't sure how he managed, but somehow he got both himself and Daisuke inside.

About fifteen feet into the cave, the tunnel widened suddenly in a dome shape. The ceiling arched high over their heads to about six feet, only a few inches taller than Satoshi when he stood. It was dark in this part of the gave, but the back was lit by an eerie greenish-blue light—a sulfur reaction, he realized when he saw the water lapping up against the very back of the cave. It was not too cold in the cavern, either, which meant the water was probably a natural hot springs, or a branch of one. That was a good thing.

In about the middle of the grotto, Satoshi slowly went to his knees and laid Daisuke out on the stone floor in front of him, then pulled his bag over into his lap. There wasn't much he had that he could use. He always carried a first aid kit, but it was small, containing bandages, antiseptic, a pair of thin rubber medical gloves, cotton swabs, and a wrist and ankle braces. There were a handful of chemical hand and feet warmers and ice packs, and his typical miniature drugstore of over the counter medications, but that was it in the way of medical supplies. In his homemade kit for emergencies he packed a blanket, wrapped up in which was a poncho liner—great for rain and snow and also warm as hell when wrapped around a person or two—, a book of matches, a lighter, a calling card that had never been used, a sweater and sweatpants, and a water bottle. Besides his emergency equipment, he had in the bag his two traveling blankets and pillows, a change of clothes and jacket, two bottles of water, an empty soda bottle, the rest of their snacks from earlier, his detective novel, a spiral notebook and pen, and a dozen twelve-ounce flower-scented candles in decorative jars.

All right, Satoshi, think. He bit his lip and wondered what his uncle, who was a doctor, would do. I don't think he's in shock, so that's out of the way. What first? Get him out of those wet clothes came immediately to mind. Whenever anybody was hurt, wasn't the first thing they always did in the movies was get the patient out of their wet clothes, whether they had wet clothing or not? "Okay," he muttered and went digging through his bag. Sweater and sweatpants or tshirt and jeans? The sweater outfit would probably be better, it was warmer… And Daisuke would have to do just fine in his own underwear.

Satoshi put the bag off to the side and the dry clothes to his right, then very gently pulled Daisuke into his lap. The redhead's body was limp and heavy, unyielding. Dammit, Daisuke, why'd you have to choose now to pass out? he thought as he struggled to get the snow-drenched shirt from his chest. It took a while, but he managed to pull off the wet clothes and get him into the dry outfit. By the time he was finished, Satoshi's face was a brilliant red: he'd never had to undress and redress another person, let alone another boy. He stood and draped the wet clothes a short distance from the hot springs to dry, then knelt back down between Daisuke and his duffel bag, his lifeline.

All right, what's next? He sat back on his heels and stared blankly at Daisuke's face while he tried to think. Get him off the floor and wrapped up, and then see to his medical problems. Shit, I hope he's not allergic to any kind of medication. Satoshi unfolded his two travel blankets, thick cottony fleece, the both of them, until he had them doubled over once apiece, then carefully scooped Daisuke up into his arms and stretched him out on the blankets. He put the pillows beneath the younger boy's head and pulled both the blanket and the poncho liner from the emergency kit over him and tucked them in.

Medicals. Hm. Well, he's got that cut on his forehead. Clean it out with antiseptic and bandage it up—I don't think it needs stitches… I hope it doesn't need stitches. Sitting on his knees beside his friend's head, he reached over and pulled the first aid kit out of his bag. A few moments of digging around produced two kinds of antiseptic, a few cotton swabs, and a bandage. Now, which antiseptic to use? One was a gel, and the other was a liquid. Well, this one says "great for cuts and scrapes," he thought, looking at the tube of gel. So I guess this is it. He leaned over and carefully inspected Daisuke's forehead to make sure there wasn't anything lodged in the cut, then sat back and squeezed the gel out onto a swab.

"This might hurt," he warned the younger boy, but he was pretty sure Daisuke couldn't hear him. As delicately as he could, the detective spread the antiseptic into the cut, and then bandaged him up.

Okay, that's done. What's next under medical? Satoshi consulted the mental medical checklist that was somehow stored in his mind—dimly he remembered reading something about this on the internet. Check for broken bones. Just how the hell do I do that, poke him until he cries out? His nerves were fast becoming non-existent. In the movies, he reasoned, the doctor or whoever was in charge would run their hands down the patient's body and feel for broken bones. Feel for them. Great. Just what does a broken or fractured bone feel like?

Panic was eating away at his mind. If we survive this, I'm going to be arrested for malpractice. I'm not a doctor—I'm not even in med school—I'm a high school kid. I can't do this… I can't…

Dammit, Satoshi, pull yourself together. Look at what you've done already. There'll be time for self-doubt later, his mind snapped coldly. You have to take care of Daisuke, or he very well may die.

Hesitantly at first, then with growing sureness, Satoshi ran his hands down Daisuke's arms, one at a time, and then down his chest and ribs with a gentle pressure. Everything felt intact, if a little battered. He worked his way down to the boy's legs and feet. Just as he was about to pronounce Daisuke whole and… well… almost healthy, his fingers wrapped around the boy's hitherto unnoticed swollen left ankle. Daisuke's body jerked away from him, a small scream escaping his throat.

Satoshi sighed and sat back on his heels. I think its safe to say he either twisted or broke it. Shit. Everything was going so swell, now what do I do? The only thing he could do, given his limited supplies, was put the offending limb in a brace and give the patient something to take away the pain. So as gently as he could, Satoshi pulled the ankle brace over the swollen joint, laced it up tight but not too tight, and tucked the blankets back around the boy. He crawled back up the length of Daisuke's body and held the boy's chest and head up in his lap for a moment while he searched through his miniature pharmacy for some painkiller and a bottle of water. The only things he had were Bayer Aspirin and Tylenol Maximum Strength. Unsure whether Daisuke was allergic or taking something that would react badly with the Aspirin, Satoshi opted for the Tylenol. He opened the bottle and had it standing by, then shook three pills into his hand. He placed these in Daisuke's mouth, poured a bit of water over them, and tilted the younger boy's head back until the whole mess slid down into his throat. Lightly he stroked the redhead's throat to stimulate the muscles to swallow, then laid Daisuke back down and tucked him in to sleep.

Now what do I do?

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Z/N

I am not a doctor, nor do I claim to be one… I have no clue if I did any of this right, please don't yell at me if I didn't… I wrote most of this chapter at two in the morning… Hope it seems realistic… ish… Laughs. Well, that's chapter five, now I gotta decide what to do for six. Tootles!