"Shit!"
His own aches forgotten, Ian scrambled over to the flashlight – and to the very still form of the little girl who was sprawled beside it.
"Come on…" He reached his hand out, desperate to find a pulse and not daring to move her until he did, even though she was lying in a puddle of mud and water. Her little face was pale and when he touched her cheek it was cold, but he immediately found that spark of life that made him gasp with relief. All he needed was that spark, after all. Maybe others needed more, but Ian was definitely equipped with the means to make the most of whatever little life there was.
Healing people seemed to be something that he did a lot of once he'd figured out how, but he was grateful for that just then, because all the practice searching around inside others – mainly Jack and Sam, he supposed – made him better at it, and only moments after he rested his hand lightly against her cold little cheek, he had a long list of the little girl's hurts; ranging from a simple scratch to a couple of broken bones that had put internal organs into jeopardy.
Ian took a deep breath, made sure he had hold of that little spark and was cradling it carefully, and then went to work. There were four ribs broken and cracked, and those were the most dangerous of the breaks, because the jagged pieces were pressing against Libby's lungs and liver. He put them back into position, healing them and then taking care of the bruise on the liver, sending the blood that had started to gather in her liver back into the little girl's system where it could be put to use instead of becoming a threat to her own life.
Libby gasped, but the still form didn't move under his hand. Ian wasn't going to have a repeat of what had happened with Taylor, so he kept her unconscious for now. When she woke up, she shouldn't know what he'd done, and he definitely was going to keep it that way. He'd had enough god talk for his lifetime.
He double-checked to make sure he didn't miss any bone fragments, and now that she was already stabilizing he had a little more leisure to check the rest of her injuries. They were serious, but the ribs had been the most dangerous. Even more than the whack she'd taken to her head when she'd fallen. There was a bump there, but the skin wasn't broken and her skull wasn't cracked. Ian didn't even fix it; he didn't have the time or the energy to take care of something that didn't need his immediate attention.
Instead, he straightened her leg, which was broken. She yelped, even unconscious, and he knew he hadn't been as gentle as he should have been. He couldn't help that, though. It wasn't like they were in the infirmary, after all, and he was already feeling a little rummy from what he was doing. He didn't need to touch her leg to heal it – he just needed to be touching her – but it was easier if he was, and he pressed his hand lightly against the thighbone, just above her right knee. Then he moved down to the lower leg, and repeated the process.
A quick but thorough check to make sure he'd gotten all the serious injuries, and Ian knew he could move her without hurting her. All she had now were bumps and bruises – and a lot of them, he saw – but nothing that would be more than she could handle, and nothing that would keep her from a quick recovery.
He took a deep, tired breath – and then a couple more when he felt a wave of exhaustion go through him – and pulled Libby into his arms, figuring he'd pick her up and get her back up the hill now, so the nurse could take care of what he hadn't. And realized immediately that that wasn't going to happen.
He fell backwards, her slight weight enough to drag him to the ground, and he panted, feeling another wave of exhaustion coming on at the exertion.
"Fuck…"
He'd just take a minute to rest, then… that was what he needed, and it wasn't going to hurt either of them to wait another minute. He pulled Libby into his lap to keep her out of the mud and keep her as warm as he could. Then he leaned up against the tree trunk that he'd slammed into at the bottom of the washout, and closed his eyes, feeling the rain pounding down on him.
"Hang on, kid," he mumbled, nowhere near loud enough to be heard over the rain. His hand brushed her wet hair out of her face in a gentle gesture of concern that he'd never have let anyone else see. "I'll take a quick break and then we'll get out of here…"
OOOOOOO
"Well, where the heck are you…?"
Shawn could have said hell. It wasn't like anyone was around to hear him, after all, and it wasn't like hell was all that bad of a word anyways. He didn't, though. He wasn't much for swearing, really – despite the fact that Ian and River had both taught him words and phrases that had actually made him blush a time or two. His mother hadn't liked swearing in the house, and James and she had never done it around him – not even when James had hit his thumb with a hammer once – and Shawn had grown up respecting that. Now that they were gone – and that thought made him ache every time he thought of it – he didn't swear very often because he knew his mother wouldn't approve. He was sure she was still watching him, and he didn't want her to think less of him, and that alone was enough to keep him from uttering vulgarities most of the time.
So here he was; back at the fire pit looking for Ian who had told him to meet there. The only problem was that Ian wasn't anywhere to be seen.
"Ian?"
Shawn shined the light back the way he'd come. There was no way he could have missed Ian – even in the dark – and the New Yorker wasn't a practical joker who would hide from him just because he thought it'd be funny. Especially when he was already grumpy, like Shawn knew he was.
"Ian!"
He could have gone back, Shawn supposed, but Ian wasn't like that. He wouldn't have left just because he was getting rained on or something – actually, Shawn had expected to find him under the canvas canopy and out of the rain.
"Crap."
Torn between looking for Ian and looking for Libby – or going back and getting more people, or seeing if maybe Ian had gone up the hill back to the camp for some reason, Shawn shined his light through the dark once more, although he couldn't see much except for leaves and branches, and he couldn't hear anything above the sound of the rain on the canopy protecting the campfire area. Finally he decided to backtrack and head back towards the canoeing area. Maybe he had somehow missed Ian in the dark. Especially if Ian had decided to get off the trail and look through the brush. Flashlight showing the way, Shawn headed for the small hill that led down to the opening area of the lagoon, uncertain of the way exactly but figuring he'd eventually come to the lagoon, or maybe get lucky and run into Ian.
"Ian!"
He made it a grand total of about fifty feet before he felt the rain saturated ground suddenly give way around him. Grabbing for something – anything – he managed to catch a branch and hold on tight as what had a moment before been solid ground was now a small avalanche of wet mud that threatened to pull him down into the same washout that Libby and Ian had both managed to fall into. It was touch and go for a long moment, but the branch he had hold of was stronger than it looked and Shawn managed to keep from falling. He swung himself over to ground that was a little more solid, and took a deep breath, shining the light down on the area. He didn't see anything, but the light only went about five feet in the darkness and rain and he wasn't surprised.
"Ian?"
He wondered if it was possible Ian had gone this direction and had managed to take a fall, as well. The more he wondered, the more likely it became, and Shawn decided that there had to be the reason the New Yorker wasn't waiting for him. It had to be, because he wouldn't have left without him.
He turned and headed back for the campfire area, and then started up the trail to the camp. He'd need help, and more lights.
OOOOOOOOOO
An elbow digging into his ribs made Ian open his eyes. He wasn't asleep – although he really wanted to be – he was just resting, trying to get enough energy together to get the two of them out of the spot they were in. Moving his hand, and now very much aware of his own aches and pains, Ian shined the light down on the girl in his lap. And found her brown eyes wide open and looking at him.
"Ian?"
She was awake, and aware of where she was – although there was a dazed look in her expression that was a result of the bump to the head.
"Yeah. Hush, okay? I'm going to get you out of here, but I need a minute first."
"You're bleeding…"
Now there was a little fear in her voice, and her eyes reflected it.
"It's okay. You are, too."
"I am?"
She squirmed, looking down and trying to see herself in the dark, and Ian tightened his grip on her, hoping that the knee in his groin wasn't going to move again.
"Hold still, Libby."
She was cold, and wet, and she hurt and was afraid – although she was glad she wasn't alone in the dark anymore.
"I want my mom…"
Ian nodded, and pulled her against him once more.
"Me, too."
"Really?"
"Sure."
He reached into his pocket with his free hand, and pressed something hard against her fingers.
"Here… I found this."
She looked down, and he shined the light on it so she could see it.
"Rocky!"
"Hold still for a minute, okay?"
As if she finally realized that he didn't seem to be as healthy as he could have been, Libby nodded, and leaned her cheek against his soaked sweatshirt.
"Are you okay?"
"Always."
Ian sighed, and closed his eyes again. Just another minute, and he'd be ready to give it another go. At least now, he probably wouldn't have to carry her.