vanillajello | Room 324, Sunday Evening

"It's not going to make me sick," she replied steadily, even if she wasn't quite sure about that. She was sure about something else, and that was enough for her. "I'm not letting your feet stay like that any longer, and I'm pretty sure you can't do anything about them yourself."

"All right, all right," he said, holding up a hand to ward of any more arguing. "I had to ask, Kate. I'm sorry but I had to. I just wanted to make sure. It's going to hurt."

He knew that. He nodded. "I'll manage."

She sighed again, letting go off that spike of annoyance that had slipped out, and rolled her shoulders some before reaching for the first aid kit and seeing what supplies were there.

"Okay. So how do we do this? What's most comfortable?"

It felt wrong to say there was going to be anything comfortable about it, but there were probably ways where there wouldn't be any extra strain from awkward positions, at least.

"I don't know, I've never done this before either," he said, shaking his head. "I can lay down and either leave my feet off the edge of the bed or put one in your lap. Those are the first two options that come to mind."

"Yeah well, let's hope we never have to do this again." Fat chance, it was Fandom she was talking about. "That lap option sounds good to me."

"All right," Bod agreed, sliding back further on her bed so he could lay down and stare at the ceiling. It was going to hurt so he'd already started preparing his mind, pulling up other things to think about, anything.

"I didn't plan this," he added for some reason. "I wasn't trying to be a hero."

Kate went and grabbed her towel off the chair, then came back to the bed and sat down, spreading the towel over her lap. Seemed necessary.

"I know," she said, subdued. "Even heroes wear shoes."

Bod resisted the urge to apologize and, instead, draped an arm over his eyes. He took a few long, slow breaths, getting himself calmed as much as he could before she started poking at his feet.

He thought about mumbling something in reply to her statement but didn't.

Kate drew in a deep breath as she picked up the tweezers from the kit, figuring the first order of business was removing anything that wasn't supposed to be there. Gingerly, she took a hold of one of his feet, peering at the bottom of it.

It was kind of disgusting. But this was necessary. She'd just hold on to how necessary this was.

"Okay," she said, mostly to signal that he should probably brace himself, because here she went, trying to pluck out any tiny rocks she could see, as quickly and efficiently as she could.

There she went, indeed. He immediately tensed and bit down on his lower lip harshly. In the haze of pain, everything from that other place pushed forward, becoming fresh in his mind again.

He made a small noise but stayed still, using the tension to keep himself from moving even if he wanted to desperately yank his leg away.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she muttered, almost under her breath, but she didn't stop until she was done. It felt longer than it really took, even to her, but she was pretty quick.

"Now, I'm gonna, like, disinfect this and wrap it up before I do the other one, okay?"

Bod nodded a few times, not trusting his voice right now. He just nodded and kept his arm over his eyes, concentrating hard on not moving. He could manage this pain, he could and he knew that even if doubts were creeping in.

"All right," escaped from his lips, sounding thin.

Kate closed her eyes for just a moment centering herself and trying to remember what she'd learned in First Aid, just to focus on something.

Then she opened her eyes and kept going, using the antiseptic to clean the cuts, murmuring soothing things as she did, trying to take the edge off the stinging. Once that was done, she wrapped the foot up in bandages. Professor Pierce should've been proud.

And then it was on to the other foot and back to the tweezers. Unfortunately there was a tiny bit of rock there that was a little harder to get out. She was going to get it, but it took just a little more time.

"I'm so sorry."

"It's fine," he said though he sounded like it was anything but. His voice wavered and faltered though he was proud he'd kept still long enough for her to do this despite the unrelenting and awful pain.

Next time, shoes.

"You're doing fine," he breathed even if he was coiled as tight as a piano string. "You're doing fine."

She refrained from arguing with that, because she needed the reassurance, shaky as it was. Never done this before. It was amazing she was as calm as she was.

That pesky little rock came out eventually, and the few others followed far more easily. "Almost done," she muttered as she started with the antiseptic again. "Not much more."

"I'm all right, I'm all right." He wasn't but he wasn't going to say that anyway. He took a few quick breaths, valiantly fighting off the urge to just curl up and not let her finish.

Selfishly, he was glad he didn't have to look since that probably would have been too much for him. Feeling it was enough.

Looking at it... actually got pretty easy after she got started. She just focused on the details of what she was doing. Had she stopped and thought about what she was doing, or actually looked at the whole mess she was dealing with, she would've been doomed.

But she was surprisingly okay. The second time around the disinfecting and the bandages that followed almost felt like routine, and she was finished quicker than the first time.

"All done," she said, getting up to take the towel and the first aid supplies away.

"Thank you," he said quietly and didn't move. His feet still stung but it wasn't as bad and he knew she was the cause. Things were dulled physically but there was a roaring in his ears and he didn't know if he was going to be able to fight off the continued push of stress.

He felt better but he felt worse and he didn't know why. Later, he'd attribute it to his adrenaline finally wearing off. Right now, he just didn't know.

Kate busied herself with first unceremoniously dumping the little pieces of rock in the trash, then going to the bathroom to wash what little blood there had been off the towel. After hanging the towel to dry, she came into the room again and picked up his towel and the pudding box off the bed and put those away as well.

And then... And then nothing.

Needed to be doing something, but she'd ran out of things to do. So, she ended up kind of standing in the middle of the room, a little awkward.

It took a lot to actually get to Bod. A lot. The past few days had been a lot and it eventually just got too much for him to fight back. He felt the first few tears leaking out and wetting the arm still pressed against his eyes.

More came after that but he was trying to keep quiet so she wouldn't figure out what he was doing. He hoped that he could get it out and be done even if another part of him knew that was unrealistic. He rarely cried but he wasn't loud. He barely made a sound even if his arm was getting wetter and wetter and he couldn't seem to control himself.

Kate glanced at him, but it was a quick glance. She didn't realize he was crying, not yet.

Instead, she wandered over to her desk again, and picked up the knife as if to put it away. Then she realized she had nowhere to put it away to, so she set it down again.

Idly, numbly, she thought she might want to invest in a weapon of some sort. So next time she wouldn't have to grab the sharpest (not that sharp) and biggest (not that big) knife from a cabin kitchen area.

She knew there'd be a next time. She was sure.

And her surety was probably a sad indicator of things. She was being smart but it was still sad.

Bod, however, wasn't really seeing this. He was still crying quietly into his arm, trying to forget about the little girl who'd been on fire, the nurses with no faces, and the man with the apron made of skin. He wanted to forget it all but his desires were apparently coming out in quiet sobs that seemed to be getting a little harsher.

Quieting himself wasn't working all that well anymore so he tried to muffle it with his arm.

It wasn't enough to stop her ears from picking something up, not when everything was so quiet and she was so very aware of him, anyway.

She turned around, took some soft steps towards the bed, kept her voice quiet. "Bod?"

Talking was going to give himself away, not talking was going to give himself away. It was lose lose either way with keeping his crying hidden. In the end, he decided not to try.

"What?" If she hadn't known before what he was doing, she'd know now. His voice was watery and wavering, interrupted by sobs and harshly pulled breaths in an attempt to calm himself down.

The sound of his voice made something in her own chest tighten, and she didn't immediately say anything.

Instead, she climbed on the bed too, awkwardly stretching out in the space beside him so she could get an arm around him, get herself close to him.

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