Hey guys!! Just another one-shot I felt like playing with. Hope you all like it!! :D And big thanks to Cooper Sterling for the awesome idea!! You're the best hon!! :D

Columbus sighed, tugging the mud and blood stained sweatshirt over his head and dropping it into a heap on the floor. His jeans were covered in the same combination and he was pretty sure the extent had soaked down to the skin. It had been a rough couple of days; the car breaking down in one of the more extensively zombie-populated towns they'd been to was definitely not part of the plan. It had taken nearly an entire day to find a car that would haul the four of them and their weapons without overcrowding and that had been while dodging the snapping jaws and clawing hands of the undead. And then it rained. Of course, it always rained when nothing else could get worse. So, checklist time: stiff, blackish-red zombie blood all over clothing and exposed skin? Check. Mud covering everything else? Check. Time for a shower.

Normally showers weren't that big of an issue, they took one when they found a house with a descent bathroom and its not like they had to worry about a lack of clothing; shopping sprees at Wal-Mart were easy when you didn't have to pay. Columbus had never wanted to be clean more in his entire life. He continued stripping out of his ruined clothes, a fresh pair already hanging on the shower rod. The girls had showered earlier and were downstairs keeping Tallahassee company. The last he'd checked, the older man was teaching Little Rock why they didn't talk about Fight Club. Not really vital information in Zombieland but interesting nonetheless.

The faucet groaned and shuddered as the water was turned on, a wisp of steam floating up from the drain as the hot water poured into the tub. Columbus switched on the shower and stripped the rest of his clothes, kicking them into the corner. His gun was resting next to the door just in case; the house was boarded up tighter than Fort Knox but you could never be too careful. With that thought in mind, he stepped under the spraying water.

The hot jets of water felt amazing, washing away days of grime and filth. The water circled the drain in a dirty trail, flecks of dried blood speckling the bottom of the tub like coffee grounds. He scrubbed at his skin, his face, his hair, trying to get rid of any lingering zombie gore. It wasn't uncommon for pieces to be left behind when they encountered the business end of a rifle. Finally feeling clean for the first time in days, Columbus turned off the shower, standing motionless in the steam for a few minutes.

Quiet moments like this were rare nowadays, running for your life on a daily basis tended to cut into relaxation. He took a deep breath, inhaling steam and exhaling slowly. Being with the others had definitely mellowed out some of his phobias but not all of them. Like being naked and vulnerable in the shower. Just like public bathrooms, showers had the potential to be deathtraps in Zombieland. As much as he enjoyed the shower, it was time to get dressed. He grabbed the boxers from the shower rod, sliding them on and absently brushing the towel over his hair a few times to take away the excess water. He could put the rest of the clothes on once he got out of the shower, but for now it felt better to be clad in something other than his birthday suit.

He slid the curtain open and gasped, coming face to face with Little Rock. The younger girl looked at him in surprise as well, a small yelp escaping her throat. Shocked and embarrassed that he was standing in nothing but his underwear in front of 12-year-old, he grabbed for the curtain once more, his foot sliding across the slick surface of the tub and sending him toppling over the edge. He groped blindly, trying to catch anything that would prevent his fall, but there was nothing. Something solid connected with his head and he heard a faint scream just as the world faded into white nothingness.

OOOOO

He didn't care what anyone said, there was no way you could not watch Fight Club enough. Tallahassee had seen this movie so many times he could quote it and it was still one of his favorites. The owners of the house they'd decided to camp out in had great taste in movies and killer plasma screen TV in the living room; perfect for one of the greatest movies ever made. Wichita was huddled in the chair across the living room, watching the movie with half-interest and glancing at an old magazine. Little Rock had been in the room as well (she'd never seen the movie and Tallahassee had taken it upon himself to rectify that atrocity) but she'd left to get something from upstairs. She'd only been gone a few minutes when they heard a stifled scream from the upstairs bathroom.

Jumping to their feet immediately, weapons in hand, the two raced up the stairs to the aid of the youngest. She was on her knees in the bathroom, frantically hovering over one of the other member of their group. "Oh my God, I broke Columbus!" Little Rock cried when she saw her sister and Tallahassee enter the room

"What the hell-?" Tallahassee said as his eyes fell on the sprawled young man in the bathroom. Columbus was only half-dressed, the majority of his clothes hanging from the shower rod. He was on the floor, tangled in the shower curtain, a small pool of blood forming beneath his head.

Wichita took up damage control as Tallahassee walked over to the unconscious young man. "Okay, slow down. What happened?"

"I-I came in to get a washcloth and he saw me and tried to cover up and he slipped. He hit his head on the sink when he fell." The younger girl babbled on, tears filling her eyes as she looked at his motionless form.

Tallahassee had blocked the other two out, his sole focus now on Columbus. "Can you hear me, kid?" He asked, leaning over the younger man and patting his cheek lightly. Upon receiving no answer, he hit a little harder, speaking louder. "Columbus! Hey spit-fuck, you gunna answer me or not?" In spite of the name-calling, he was worried. He'd become rather attached to the members of their little group and wasn't too happy with the idea of losing any of them. And head injuries were nothing to play around with. The shitty thing about Zombieland was there were no ambulances or hospitals, nothing but you and whatever you could MacGyver up to take care of an injury. He hoped like hell this wasn't something they couldn't handle.

"Is he alright?" Wichita asked, hugging her sister close. Her eyes were wide, searching for an answer she wasn't sure she wanted.

Tallahassee turned his attention back to Columbus, pressing his fingers to the younger man's throat gently. He could feel a steady pulse which more reassuring than anything else. The blood worried him though; how hard did he hit his head? Did he crack his skull? Break his neck? He'd taken a First Aid class when Buck was born (a shit ton of good that did him) but that was well over three years ago, he didn't remember most of that first responder bullshit.

Columbus' eyes fluttered slightly and he winced, a soft groan escaping his lips. His shoulders hunched slightly and he tried to curl in on himself in pain. "Ngh…"

"Hey, easy kid. You took a pretty good knock on the head, maybe you shouldn't be movin' around so much." Tallahassee cautioned, more relieved to see that the younger man was at least conscious.

"…the hell…?" Columbus muttered softly, trying to raise himself off the floor. A hand pressed against his shoulder, keeping him pinned to the floor, and he looked up in confusion. He could just make out Wichita and Little Rock over Tallahassee's shoulder and he was vaguely concerned why it looked like the youngest had been crying.

"-fingers?"

"Wha-…?" He blinked up again and saw a hand in front of his face holding up three fingers.

"How many fingers, kid?" Tallahassee asked again, waving his hand in front of Columbus' face.

"Ugh…three…" Words hurt. Blinking hurt. Everything hurt. He did a mental check, cautiously rolling his ankle and moving his fingers to make sure everything was still in working order. Something sharp pinched his foot and he jerked instinctively. "Ow…!"

"Good. You're not paralyzed." It sounded more like fact than an assertion but he was happy with it. Being paralyzed in a land overrun by zombies would suck. Still, his head hurt like a bitch.

"Can I please get off the floor…?" He asked, his voice sounding weak and pitiful in his ears. The way the room swayed in and out of focus may be an indication that that wasn't such a good plan. An arm snaked behind his shoulders, lifting him slowly and he felt a rush of vertigo so strong it nearly sent him reeling.

"You okay?" A deep voice asked next to his ear and he considered his answer for a few minutes. Finally, when he felt like his stomach had receded away from his throat, he nodded slowly. Something wet and sticky was smeared across the side of his head, matting his hair and trickling down past his ear. He felt like he was going to be sick again.

Something cold and wet was suddenly pressed over the area and he winced, gritting his teeth and turning away from the intrusive coldness. "Shh…" This voice was softer, the touch a bit gentler than the arm wrapped around his shoulders and keeping him upright. "Moving is going to make it worse."

Columbus opened his eyes slowly, wincing at the brightness of the room, and was thankful he was at least semi-dressed. With Tallahassee keeping him from falling over and Wichita hovering over him, being nude was definitely not an option. Little Rock suddenly wrapped her arms around his neck, making his sway a bit. "I'm so sorry!" She mumbled into his shoulder. "I didn't know you were in here. God, I thought I killed you!"

Columbus smiled slightly and hugged back. "s'okay…" He muttered back, his mouth feeling like it was full of cotton. Yay for concussions. He'd had one once before, when he was ten and had fallen off his bike. It felt pretty much the same and it sucked just as bad.

"Well, I don't think you need stitches." Wichita said from beside him, gently probing the tender spot on the side of his head. Even gentle hurt and he fought a grimace as her finger brushed the gash. "But I'm pretty sure you have a concussion." She looked into his eyes for a second, glancing back and forth to gauge pupil reaction. "Yep, concussion."

He mumbled something, he wasn't sure what, and his head fell against Tallahassee's shoulder. All he wanted to do was sleep. "Come on kid, let's get you into the other room." The older man said next to him, keeping a tight hold around his shoulders. Very slowly, he stood, keeping Columbus pressed against his side so he was half-dragging, half-carrying him. With Wichita and Little Rock trailing behind, they made their way to one of the bedrooms in the upper portion of the house.

The room was a mess, clothes scattered all over the floor and junk heaped in the corner. There was bed though, that's all that mattered. Columbus felt himself shuffled across the room and lowered onto the bed, the warm arm never leaving his back. He couldn't keep his eyes open, it hurt and the room was spinning with a vengeance now.

"Do you think its okay to let him sleep?" Wichita (or was it Little Rock?) asked from somewhere far up above him. "What if he gets worse?"

"I'll stay with him and make sure he's alright." He was shifted slightly, his head pillowed against someone's leg. Jeans, the faint smell of gun powder and gasoline, he felt himself relax a bit. A calloused palm rested against his forehead lightly and he opened his eyes to slits, looking up.

"Tall-?"

"Shh. No talking. Go to sleep." The older man said, moving his hand down so it was covering his eyes. Columbus didn't have the energy to argue as consciousness faded away.

Aww, poor Columbus =P