Red Rain (Krystal)

[brighteye]

[/i] He told her as she stood back up.

"It's nothing. Don't worry about it." She told him with a smile, before turning to the next task at hand. The boxes weren't too heavy for her, but by the fifth box it was getting a bit tiring. Her body really wanted to sleep, not cart heavy items around a room. Whatever her body wanted didn't matter, though. She had to keep going. That was when Braden started to speak once more. "We'll have to wait a few hours before going anywhere." She nodded absently as she pulled another dusty box up into her arms. "If worst comes to worst then there's always the window."

Climbing out a window did not sound like fun at all, especially with an injured man. Sure, she had no real fear of heights, but that didn't mean she wanted to free-climb down the face of a building. She could slip, or trip, or any number of other klutzy things that she was prone to do from time to time. That would be her luck. And there was the issue of getting Braden - with an injured arm, shoulder, and leg - down the face of a building. That would be next to impossible. By the last one she just wanted to collapse under it, but she gritted her teeth and stacked it on top of another box, sighing with relief. That was the last one. She let herself rest against the stack for a moment, taking a breath, before turning back to the man. He didn't look any worse for wear - he hadn't passed out or bled everywhere while she wasn't paying attention. That was always nice - she'd hate to be trapped in a room with an unconscious or dead man. "You can rest now." He told her softly, tapping the ground next to him. Krystal shook her head.

"No, I can't rest." She said, with a slight sigh. She was going to pay dearly for this. "Let me see your wounds." Down into her hands came the backpack as she walked across the room to him. She watched him touch the blood-soaked bandage on his leg and wince in pain, before quickly drawing his hand away. That wouldn't do at all. "Do you want anything for the pain, Braden?" If she were to just stick him with a needle, he probably wouldn't be too happy. No, better to ask. As she waited for an answer, she knelt next to him, her body relaxing a bit as she took her weight off her legs. It felt nice to not be standing anymore. She might be able to doze here soon. Just maybe. Until then, she'd shove the exhaustion away. Only when she was trembling would she stop, because then it would be unsafe for her to help Braden. Up until then, she could try to heal his body more.[/ul]

[Braden Parker]

"No, I can't rest. Let me see your wounds."

Braden remembered the blood he had seen on the ground, the blood from his shoulder wound, and he cringed inwardly. “Don’t tell me I need more stitches,” he said. There was still pain there, but he tried to make his voice light, almost joking. Then he sighed wearily and tilted his head back, resting it against the wall behind him, concentrating on breathing. In and out, slowly, slowly… He just wanted to close his eyes and sleep. He realized that he had only just woken up, but his slumber the night before had been anything but peaceful. It was a restless sleep, and he had kept fading in and out of consciousness, waking from nightmares. He was anemic too, still suffering from blood loss. While his body had had time to regenerate enough to keep him breathing, he still didn’t have much energy.

"Do you want anything for the pain, Braden?"

Braden opened his mouth to respond, but then closed it again, thinking twice. “No…” If he took the pain medication then he wouldn’t be able to feel anything, he would become numb. If he lost feeling it would be harder to stay awake, and right now he definitely needed to stay awake. If he were to fall asleep and zombies smashed into the room, the girl would be in trouble, because even in his weakened state he still had a better handle on a gun than she did. It did hurt though, a lot. The wound that had been stitched up on his lower arm didn’t ache so much anymore, but the other two did. He wanted the feeling to go away, he really did, but he also wanted to know that he was alive. The pain was what kept his eyes open, his senses alert.

He was quiet for a while, but then seemed to change his mind. “Well…actually…maybe a little.” When he said it, it felt like a small chunk of his pride slipped away. He didn’t like admitting that he might need help. But… maybe if he just got a small dose it would at least take the edge off the pain. That wouldn’t hurt anything…would it?

There was a silence as Braden waited, as the girl shuffled through her bag. He looked up at her, studying her with his hazel eyes. “What… was your name again?” he asked hesitantly. He needed to talk. He needed to stay alert, awake. Braden knew that the girl had told him before, what her name was. He had a vague memory of it. He couldn’t remember what it was though. Try as he might, he just couldn’t jog his memory. All he remembered was her talking about that stuffed animal of hers. Mr. Penguin. Great. So he could remember the name of the toy, but he couldn’t remember the name of the girl? This made him divert his gaze to the ground, an embarrassed look on his face. She seemed to remember his name, as she had called him it a few times now, and yet he had forgotten hers. Granted he had been only half conscious at the time, but still, he was disappointed in himself.

[brighteye]

[/i] He said, his voice filled mainly with pain. She didn't doubt that he was pain, as she looked to his shoulder. Carefully she removed the bandage, trying not to tug the already mangled flesh anymore than she already had to. Once the bandage was gone, she saw that it wasn't as bloody as it would have been had the artery been ripped open again. That was a good sign. After glancing at the wound, she saw that only a handful of stitches had ripped - the ones towards the center where the gun had been placed. That cry of pain he'd given earlier had already alerted her to the fact that he'd probably hurt himself badly - she'd been expecting more damage than what was there. That was good as well.

"No..." He said, refusing the pain medication. She wished he wouldn't - he'd been too out of it with pain before to really feel the stitching before. Now he was more conscious of his surroundings - if he were to jump or flinch as she stitched, she might stab something she shouldn't or stitch wrong. "Are you sure? Your shoulder needs a couple more stitches at the least..." she let her words trail off as she examined his leg. He'd put a lot of weight on her for awhile in their journey up the stairs, but towards the end he'd walked on his own two feet. Her eyes looked over the skin on his leg, noting that only three had ripped - in three different places too. They couldn't just make it easy on her, now could they?

She went to her pack once more, to find the necessary supplies, before coming up short. She was running low on stitching material - after all, she wasn't a hospital (no matter how much she wished she were at this moment). The main of her supplies ran in bandages, antibiotics, and some pain medication. Sure, needle and thread didn't take up a lot of space, but she didn't expect to run into so many people needing them. First that boy with the head wound, and now this man. And she'd already stitched up three of his wounds. She eyed the thread and determined she probably had enough to fix the wounds that had been broken open with some extra - hopefully he wouldn't hurt himself anymore.

"Well... actually... maybe a little." Braden said. His voice was reluctant, as if he didn't want the medicine at the same time. If he was in pain, she didn't see why he wouldn't want her to alleviate some of it. If it were her in pain, she'd have asked for something long before this moment - unless she were trying to help someone else. And that was when she realized why he didn't want it - he was the only one that was worth anything against those monsters downstairs. Without him she'd be stuck cowering in a corner with the gun, probably shooting herself - or even worse, him! - and wasting all the bullets, before being devoured by the zombie. The thought made her shiver.

"Alright. Just a little." she told him with a nod, putting aside the needle and thread to get out a syringe and codeine. "I do need to give you a few more stitches in your leg and shoulder." She said, replying to his first statement. "But not too many." Krystal added hastily. He wouldn't be too thrilled about that, but there wasn't much she could do about it. A little discomfort - his or her own - for his well being was a trade off she'd make any day, even if he'd rather she didn't. The most difficult decision was always the right one to make - and it sure as heck would be a difficult decision if he decided he was through with putting up with her medical shenanigans.

As she filled the syringe with a small dose of codeine, he filled the silence once more. "What... was your name again?" She hadn't expected him to remember her name, honestly. She didn't think he could recall anything she'd said to him last night, not really. So, as such, Krystal wasn't offended that he hadn't remembered her name. "I'm Krystal." She told him, as she looked at the syringe."Here we go, hold still." She told him, choosing a spot in his arm to stick him, swiftly plunging the sharp object into his arm, sending with it the dose of pain killers. Once it was entering his bloodstream, she pulled it out again, setting it aside as useless, as it was no longer sterile. "Only a few stitches left, then I can leave your wounds alone, okay?"

(( Gah, sorry it took so long! ))[/ul]

[Braden Parker]

"I do need to give you a few more stitches in your leg and shoulder. But not too many."

"Ah." Braden frowned at that. "Damn, eh?" He forced a smile, but it quickly faded. He supposed this was his own fault though. His actions had been what caused both the tears in the stiches. Oh well, he was already in a lot of pain, so what was a little more? He wondered what being a nurse was like, having to stab people with needles. Surely that couldn't be enjoyable. Then again, just a few months ago he'd been in an occupation where killing people was normal, so he couldn't exactly criticize her. At least the pain she caused could save a life in the end, while Braden's job, or used-to-be job, only brought death.

"I'm Krystal. Here hold still."

The girl introduced herself again, giving her name for what he was sure was the second time. "I won't forget this time," he started to say, "I-" He didn't have time to make many comments about it though, because the next thing he knew the girl was plunging a needle into his arm. The soldier winced a little, and then he turned his head away to stare at the wall. He didn't much care for needles. You'd think he would be unphased, what with being around weapons like knives and guns all the time. He felt the needle prick him in his arm, and he made a face, eyebrows knitting together. That one little stab, however, would hopefully numb the others that would be soon to follow.

As she withdrew the needle, Braden stared down absently at his arm, the one that wasn't hurt. A few months ago it had been nearly torn to pieces. It was a miracle he could use it at all right now. There had been a debate about amputating it, but in the end a nurse had stitched it back together for him. That'd hurt worse than this did right now. That's what he had to keep thinking, reminding himself that the pain could be worse. He was injured in more places this time, but the severity of his wounds wasn't nearly as bad. Braden began zoned out a little, just staring at his arm, remembering the scars that were hidden under the black cloth of his uniform. Then the girl said something, bringing him back. He looked up with a blank look and then nodded absently, unsure what he had missed.

"How...old are you?" Braden asked, watching as she picked up the stiching needle again, watching it warily before returning his hazel eyes to her face. He wasn't trying to be rude by asking the question; he was just curious. Now that he was more conscious, or maybe it was just because there was better lighting, Braden could see more details of the girl, her form, her face. She looked young. How young, he wondered? That brought up a new question. Why was she out here anyway? It wasn't a safe place for people, especially of her size, to be wandering around. He hesitated, but then went ahead and asked. "Why are you here? I mean...out here in the city." Had he already asked that? He hoped not, but he couldn't remember. All he remembered was the girl talking about her history of being a nurse, and the penguin stuffed animal. "Sorry...for all the questions. I just... " he trailed off with a weary sigh, catching his breath again.

[brighteye]

[/i] She didn't miss the grimace that preceeded the smile. He didn't seem too terribly thrilled at the idea that he'd need more, and she didn't blame him. Stitches, quite frankly, sucked. They pulled as the skin healed itself, were painful to receive, and itched. She'd never needed them, but there were plenty she knew who had and complained about them. However, they were also the best method to keep people from dying. So, they had to suck it up, unless they'd rather be corpses in the morgue with their brain stems ripped out of their bodies so that they didn't become flesh eating monsters.

"I won't forget this time." He promised. She wondered how long that would last - she may never see the man again in her life. It was pure chance that she had met him when she did - if not he might have been dead and she'd have had to do some nasty work to keep him that way. Even so, she nodded in acceptance. It was always nice to have friends of every background. There was an equally likely chance that she'd meet him again, so she'd remember and hopefully he would too. "I-" Whatever he was going to say was cut off as she gave him the shot. He winced and looked away, and she wondered if he feared needles - not that she let on to it. There were many that way, and they were much, much worse than he. Panic attacks, fainting, nausea, and more had been patients under her care needing shots - or worse, stitches.

As she got out the stitching material, he spoke again. "How... old are you?" Ah, and there it was. He didn't sound annoyed or angry that someone so young was working on him. Good, because she'd have been annoyed as well. No, he sounded curious, and she didn't mind curiousity. She had the same tendency to ask questions as well. Me? I'm eighteen." Krystal paused in threading the string into the eye of the needle for a moment. "I know it's young for a nurse, but I've been learning since I was eleven, from my mother." The word mother came out with a bit of sorrow, but she bit it back. Her death had occurred four years ago and usually it didn't capture her in grief. But, there were those odd moments when it decided to hit her and she had to get a grip. After a moment, she finished threading the needle.

"I'm starting now." she informed him. Krystal thought it was better that he knew she was going to start stabbing him, rather than let him figure it out on his own. She figured that the codeine had started it's course and would have at least gotten to the shoulder, the nearest wound, by this point, so that was where she started. Almost belatedly she stopped to get a small pair of scissors, with which she cut away the extra thread from the previous stiches after carefully tying them off so they wouldn't come out. And then was when she stitched. "Why are you here? I mean... out here in the city." He asked, the same curious tone as before. As her hands easily pulled his flesh together as gently as she could manage, she answered him.

"I was looking for medical supplies. We can never have too much, and with most of the supplies heading to the armies, I supposed that it would be nice to see if there was anything remaining out here. So far I haven't had any luck." There, she was done. See? She'd said he didn't need many. Only eight had been required to fix the shoulder. She tied off and cut the thread before turning to his leg. Stupid wound, ripping in different areas. It would have been nice to have them all in a row, so that she could just finish quickly, but now she'd have to stitch and tie off each individual one before going to the next. So, she tied off the ends of the rip before cutting the excess and went to work. "Sorry... for all the questions. I just..."

"No, no. It's quite alright, don't worry." Krystal said, making her voice chipper. Soon she'd be crashing. It was a miracle that she'd staved off the shaking from the exhaustion - because shaky hands wouldn't do Braden any good.[/ul]

[Braden Parker]

“Me? I'm eighteen. I know it's young for a nurse, but I've been learning since I was eleven, from my mother.”

Mother. The word sent a surge of bitterness through him. His mother had never done anything wrong, but that was just it. She’d never done anything. She’d never tried to protect him when his father kicked him or slapped him, she didn’t do a single damn thing. Unknowingly, he let a disgusted look plaster itself across his face, probably making it look like he was frowning at what the girl had just said. As soon as he realized that, he quickly blinked and straightened up a little. He normally didn’t let memories get to him like this. Perhaps he was struggling more because he wasn’t fully conscious… “Ah,” he said quietly. “She…must have been a good teacher then.” He didn’t doubt what he said, not at all. He imagined that this girl’s mother had been an idol to her. He hadn’t missed the sadness as she spoke the word, which probably meant her parent had passed away. That wasn’t uncommon, for they were in a war. Now that he thought about it… had she told him about her mother last night? It sounded vaguely familiar. Ugh. Why couldn’t he remember anything?

“I'm starting now.”

“What? Ow.” Braden was drawn out of his thoughts as the girl spoke, her voice followed by a sharp prick The first few stitches hurt a little, though after that he could feel his skin growing more number as the pain killers started to kick in. It felt strange. He could feel her tugging at his skin, but it didn’t hurt. Well, not as much as it could anyway. There were still little pricks, but it was nowhere as bad as it would be if he had not been on any pain medicine.

“I was looking for medical supplies.”

Braden lifted an eyebrow at this, listening as Krystal explained to him her reason for being out here. Medical supplies? “I somehow doubt you’ll find anything out here,” he told her in a tired voice. Despite that though, he forced a smile. It was more work than usual to pull his mouth up into the curved shape, but he managed it. “Perhaps next time you should bring someone with you?” he asked with the lift of an eyebrow. “Maybe…someone with a gun?” All the talking was leaving him a little breathless, but it didn’t require that much strength, and he could manage it better than the night before. His words were still slightly slurred together, but his voice was clearer now, more understandable, a little stronger.

The girl spoke again as she worked, telling him he didn’t have to apologize. Braden didn’t reply to her at first. He studied her through his hazel eyes, remaining silent, watching her as she worked. “You can rest, you know,” he told her, voice softer than before. “You must be exhausted by now.” He could hear the weariness in her upbeat voice, even if she thought she was a good job at blocking it out “When you’re done with me, that’s an order. It won’t do us any good if collapse.” He winced a little as she pulled one of the stitches through the skin of his leg, and then he looked over at her and raised an eyebrow. “Would it?” It wouldn’t, because then he would have to carry her out of the house, and he wasn’t sure he would be able to manage that. He could barely even hold his gun. Then again, looking at the girl, at her petite size, she might be lighter than his gun…

[brighteye]

[/i] Krystal smiled despite herself. She couldn't let herself succumb to sorrow, so she twisted it into some sort of morbid happiness.

"Yeah. She was, until some Southern soldier hit the tent she was working in with a missile." Krystal told him. She hated this war - it was so pointless! Why couldn't they all just get along? There was a bigger threat out there - those mindless flesh-eating creatures that would stop at nothing except death itself to eat them. They were a little more important - a gun could run out of bullets and those creepy things would still come at them. But no; the South and the North still found it necessary to blow each other to pieces. At least the North was trying to defend them from the zombies - they'd set up a safe haven for them; well, as safe as one could get in this hard times anyway.

"What? Ow." He'd said as she started, but she didn't pay him any mind. It was more a reaction to her beginning than anything, she had decided. When he didn't make any other complaints, she figured herself to have been right. "I somehow doubt you'll find anything out here." He'd told her, in response to her story of searching for medicine. Okay, it was a little far fetched, but still. There could be more of the stronger medicines - if people didn't know the name of it, most of them had the good sense not to touch it. Now, that wasn't all, but that was still a pretty good chance something was left behind. "Perhaps next time you should bring someone with you? Maybe... someone with a gun?" Krystal nodded.

"Yeah, that would probably be the wisest move, wouldn't it?" She said, her hands still steady as she spoke slowly, since most of her concentration was on what she was working on. "You can rest, you know. You must be exhausted by now." His voice was tired. She finished pulling out the excess thread, having already tied it off. That was the hardest part - now all she had to do was three stitches and she was done. "When you're done with me, that's an order. It won't do us any good if you collapse." he told her as sternly as his soft voice could manage. At this point, she would welcome anyone thinking for her - after she was done with her self-appointed task. One stitch down, two to go. "Would it?"

"No." Krystal replied, her voice just as soft. She knew he'd seen through her little act to stay strong and upbeat, so she was letting down part of the barrier that hid herself from him. It cost energy trying to pretend, so whatever she didn't need to expend would be better used elsewhere in her body. She would keep the exhaustion off until she was done with the last stitch - she was almost done now. It was harder to continue - her body wanted its rest! She hadn't slept since the day before, after exerting herself and stitching the man up twice. It was only a miracle that kept her hands from shaking as she did the last stitch, tying it off as quickly as she dared once she was finished.

"There." Krystal packed the needle away in an empty compartment rather than dropping it - she'd hate to stick herself with a dirty needle. She leaned against the wall, grateful that she no longer had to hold herself up any longer. Her body wanted her to sleep and recuperate, but her mind didn't want to. There were monsters - literally - downstairs and a wounded man at her side. Those were two very good reasons not to go to sleep, but it was so hard to fight what her entire being - save once muscle - wanted. "I don't want to go to sleep." She whispered, knowing that the fear she felt crept into it - but she couldn't bring herself to care.[/ul]

[Braden Parker]

"Yeah. She was, until some Southern soldier hit the tent she was working in with a missile."

Braden mentally flinched, hearing the sudden bitterness in the girl’s voice. Maybe he shouldn’t have said that… Then again, this was war. Everyone had lost someone, everyone had their own sad story to tell. It was impossible to meet someone with just an ordinary life anymore. Everyone, each and every person, was suffering in one way or another. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly. What else could he say? What else could anyone say? No amount of words would ever bring her mother back. His voice was tinged with sadness, though it was not necessarily toward the girl, Krystal he now knew she was called, but toward himself, toward his own story. “I was a soldier once,” he told her absently, voice reminiscent. For some reason he thought he’d already told her that, maybe last night, but he couldn’t be sure.

He hadn’t wanted to be a soldier, but he couldn’t change what had happened. Once the draft had been set into place he hadn’t had a choice. Lots of young men hadn’t had a choice. You were living a normal life one day, and the next you were holding a gun and killing people. At first he hadn’t been against it. Maybe being a soldier would be a great honor, maybe he would be able to save his country. But, alas, that was the case, and rather than saving his country he quickly found himself destroying it. War. How stupid it was, how pointless. It wasn’t helping anything, and it never would, not now not ever. People knew that. They knew that it was an idiotic thing to do, that if it continued the world would end, the human race would end, they’d wipe their own kind from the universe. Yes, they all knew this, and yet… they were still fighting? Why? Why? Why weren’t they doing anything?

Krystal said something else, but Braden wasn’t really listening. He looked up as she tied the last stitch. He needed to stop doing that, he needed to stop zoning out… "I don't want to go to sleep," she was telling him in a whisper.

“You sleep. I’ll stay up.” What was she afraid of? If she closed her eyes, she would wake back up again. Maybe she didn’t trust him? “Isn’t like I’m gonna leave or anything.” Maybe she didn’t trust him to stay awake? “Nor will I fall asleep myself.” He’d had training. He knew how to deal with that. He’d gotten in trouble for it a few times when he’d been new to the job, getting smacked in the back of the head with a gun by the commanding officer. He’d always tell Braden that a sleeping soldier was a dead soldier. No, he wouldn’t fall asleep. No matter how heavy his eyelids got, he would not sleep, especially now. There would be a girl here with him, he would have something to protect. That fact alone would be able to keep his eyes open, and even if that failed, there was the pain. It was too sharp to allow him to sleep.

“That’s an order, girlie,” he added her sternly, or as sternly as he could manage in this state.

[brighteye]

[/i] His apology was soft spoken. Why was he apologizing? He wasn't a southern soldier... was he? He didn't look to be one of them - but then again she could be wrong. Not that she could do much about it at this point anyway - and she'd have given him medical attention no matter what side he supported. Human pain was human pain. After though... there wasn't anything stopping her from ditching this man after. She wasn't sure that she would though - he was safe and seemed nice enough. "I was a soldier once." She nodded. He'd told her that before - and she'd had these same thoughts earlier, she was sure. Not that she cared then; she had been determined to keep stop the bleeding.

"What side were you on?" She asked, curious. She'd dealt with southern soldiers before - though it was rare that there wasn't some sort of tension between her and them. It wasn't her fault that they'd killed her mother and taken her father and brother away to a fate unknown. They could be dead, zombies, or they could still be alive and fighting in the war. It had been years since she'd seen them - she could have operated on either of them and she'd not have even recognized them. How sad was that? It had been ten years since she'd seen either of them - they would look so different that she wouldn't even know who they were any longer.

"You sleep. I'll stay up." He didn't understand. That was okay - he didn't have to. It wasn't his fault. She was terrified of the undead that were shambling around downstairs. If she listened long enough she could hear them making noises - knocking things over, thumping their feet on the ground, shoving doors open - and that was enough to freak her out. At any moment they could manage to get up the stairs and then it would be even worse. They would meander their way up the hall to their room and find their door barricaded, and then they'd communicate with their friends in whatever way they do and then they'd break in and she'd be eaten because she was asleep instead of awake.

Honestly, she should know better. She was a nurse. She was faced with the worst life could throw at a human (almost): gun shot wounds, land mine blasts, animal bites, crushed bones - if there was a God, he really had a sick sense of humor. But that wasn't the point. The point was, she was faced with all sorts of horrible things, events that most people prayed would never happen to them because they were so difficult to get through. Krystal knew how fear was crippling, and how people had to work through it. She had this fear, though, of those crazy monsters downstairs. There was nothing right about those creatures though. They were next to unstoppable - unless you shot them in the head to destroy the nerves that allowed for movement - and would go through just about anything to get to their prey. They were worth fearing.

"Isn't like I'm gonna leave or anything. Nor will I fall asleep." But what if he did? He was injured, tired, and he had pain medication in his system. He could say that now, fully intending to stay awake, and then he'd fall asleep. Then when the monsters came, they would really be eaten. They'd be asleep and they'd sneak up on them and they'd die. She didn't want to be eaten by a zombie - or worse, become a zombie herself! No. She didn't want that. "But..." She tried to protest, but he cut her off with his own words. "That's an order, girlie." His voice was firm, brooking no argument.

A sudden crash - something had to have broken for it to be that loud - had her jumping in fright. Luckily she had clamped her mouth shut so that no sound would erupt from her throat and betray their location. She did, however, scoot closer to Braden slightly, staring towards the door. "You won't let them get us?" She whispered, her eyes still locked on the door as if they were about to break it down and get them, when really they were down stairs tearing the place apart. [/ul]