HEALING HANDS

“I would rather wrestle with one of the undead then a ‘gator and I suggest that you make the same decision.” Bandit said, not even glancing over at the group member that was about to step into the shallows of one of the boggier areas near their cabin as he spoke. He didn’t need to know who was about to do something stupid to know they were about to do something stupid.

Her jaw tightened. “We’re going to run out of pharmaceuticals sooner rather than later. And I have to start making poultices and creams and tonics or whatever by hand before that happens,” she gritted through her teeth. “So I have to go over there,” she nodded her head in the direction she intended to go, “and hope that everything that wants to eat me has already eaten something else.”

     She could hardly believe what she was hearing, what was this? The twilight zone? “ If this is considered minor— ” Ryn motioned to the stab wound in her shoulder, “ I’d hate to see what you call severe, ” Granted, medicine was hard to come by but she didn’t like asking for help and now she just felt insulted.

“Come on!” The young girl whined, her eyes pinned on the woman who is supposed to give her drugs. “I can’t do my job if I can’t walk. Do you really think I can run away from a hoard of assholes if I’m holding an icepack to my knee?” Leia had to ball her hands into fists to keep herself from throwing anything. “Can you please give me something? Just this once? I could get you anything from anywhere, I promise.”

        Glassy, teary filled eyes flicker over to her, as her bottom lip trembled ever so slightly. “I-I need…” MEDICATION. She needed it, but what good would it do her now? Skipping out on it for a few days was not the best idea — but she was already running out, and she wanted to save it for when she needed it. Her hand gripped the knife even tighter. “W-Water. Or my, um, m-meds.”

Candy nodded her head slowly, quickly fetching a small bottle of water before pausing to glance around the room for a bottle of meds. Christ, how much of a supply did she have before they’d need to start specifically looking for what she needed? “Where do you keep them?” she asked when she could not find them on a cursory glance around the room. “Hey,” dark gaze shot down to the tightening grip, “keep talking to me --- what are they for?”

Scotty had never liked going to the doctor’s office, and this wasn’t proving to be any better. There were too many questions to answer, most of which he used to simply let his mother answer for him. Now, he was all alone. Fuck, he thought when she told him his wrist was likely sprained. He’d had sprained wrists before, but he imagined it was going to be a nightmare healing without the medication they needed to preserve for emergencies. “No,” he told her, somewhat relieved. He hadn’t really considered shooting before now. “I’m left-handed.” He held up his uninjured hand as if to show Candy that he would be alright in that sense.

She nodded her understanding, a small, relieved, smile crossing over what felt like a perpetually worried expression. Situations rarely worked out in their favor anymore --- victories, however tiny, were worth celebrating. Candy went about retrieving supplies to make the young boy a homemade splint; it basically amount to a 12 inch ruler (wider than most) and bandage that the medic would be asking that it be returned so that it could be boiled and reused. “Tell me if it’s too tight, okay?” she said as she went about applying it. “You’re going to have to sit out of any future runs for at least a week --- even if you are left-handed, we can’t have you running about and making the sprain worse.”

     Her small body was racked with small trembles, hand gripping the knife in her hand tightly. Breathe. She needed to breathe, but it was getting so hard to. Where was her medicine when she needed it? “Leave me alone,” she hissed out, her eyes watering with tears, “just leave! “

"Whoa... hey, talk to me," Candy said, arms protectively spread out in front of her and muscles tight to either back away or move forward quickly if the young girl was thinking of hurting herself. "What do you need? What can I do for you?"

Graham cradled his injured arm protectively against his chest and inadvertently obscured Candy’s view of her handiwork as he eyed the nurse warily. There was no denying that the elderly man was being just a bit overdramatic but the way he squirmed and made every stitch difficult for her was a sure sign of how much he hated being treated by doctors or nurses. “And I believe that ye will, lassie, but I told ye! I donnae like bein’ stuck by a needle!” He whined and pouted his lips like a sullen child. If possible, his pout grew even more pronounced as Candy teased him and he scoffed a little playfully. “Ye best not out me to the others. Only Miriam knows that I’m like a wee babe and that my fierce exterior is just a farce!”

"You're definitely not the first guy whose reputation I've had to protect, hun," she said with a laugh as she swatted away his other arm so that she could finish stitching him up. "Had to treat a bonafide Hell's Angel once... the biggest baby in the world. Like I told him: the sooner I'm finished, the sooner you're out of here and away from the needle," she advised, giving him her stern 'nurse glare' before attempting to go for another stitch. "Who's Miriam?" she asked suddenly, wanting to get him talking and thinking about something other than the procedure.

“It’s fine,” Scotty mumbled, taking the ice pack out of the woman’s hand. “It’s really not that bad,” he said, more to himself than to the medic. He had fallen on their last run and landed on his wrist. “You don’t think it’s sprained, do you? It’s really not that swollen.” Having been on his own for nearly five months, Scotty had grown used to talking to himself, a habit that had carried over to his merge with the caravan.

Her brows furrowed a bit, as she got the impression he was mumbling more to himself than to her. But she decided to reply anyways --- his question deserved an answer from someone who would actually know a thing or two about sprained wrists. "Most likely. It has all the symptoms of a sprained wrist. An ice pack will help. When you go to sleep, keep it elevated. Matter of fact --- I can fashion you a splint to keep you from moving it around too much," she said, relieved she could help in SOME way. "It'll heal faster if you don't. Is this the hand you use to shoot?" That was... a HUGE concern now.

she frowned and stiffened looking back at the woman before letting out a sigh as she lifted her shirt , over half of her torso was covered in bandages along with her left shoulder and hip .

“ when you have a scar this big you attract a lot of stares . i spent a long time being stared at , years in fact ”

“What happened? If you don’t mind me asking, of course...”

“I know, I know,” AJ sighed, trying not to sound too ungrateful at the woman’s reminder. She hated being told what to do, even when she knew they were right, but she knew Candy’s intentions were good. She sat up in the bed, pulling her knees in toward her chest and wrapping her arms around them. “I know the feeling. We haven’t been here too long, and it’s kinda impossible to feel safe anywhere. Even here. Most of the time it feels like we’re still back in Miami.”

Candy fell silent, nodding a bit at AJ's words. They were never meant to stay in Miami for as long as they did --- but the successes of finding resources, untouched and unspoiled, kept them there. They should have left weeks ago... maybe none of this would have happened then. There was no point, though, in that sort of guilt or anger. What's done is done. "With all the undead roaming the streets... I forgot about the viciousness of man. How cruel we can be when we're desperate," she said quietly, gaze falling to her hands for a need to look away lest her voice chokes up and tears fall.  She swallowed back the lump before forcing a smile on her face. "But we're here now. We'll be okay. We have to be. For everyone who... isn’t here."

“They’re not MINE. They never were an’ I would think my actions would have proven that already,” he retorted shortly, but not before raising his hands in a sign of defeat before taking a step backwards. Enough that he wasn’t in her strike zone should the conversation turn less than friendly. “I never wanted to hurt anyone.”

"If you don't sit still," Candy said firmly as she leaned in closer to his arm to get a better look at her stitching work, "I'm going to strap you down to this table," she finished, a bit of a grin on her face as a laugh tumbled out of her chest. "It's always the big, strong guys that are the worst patients. Why is that?"

she frowned and readjusted herself looking away awkwardly as she finished the last tie on the bandages around her torso and left shoulder

“ sorry , force of habit . ”

she answered much softer , she had grown used to being the target of many eyes , it was awkward when discrepancies like this happened.

"What's been forcing that habit?" Candy inquired curiously. Had Willace done anything to the group prior to Candy arriving that warranted people watching her closely? It was certainly something the former nurse would have liked to know.

“I don’t need a babysitter.”

Willace was frowning painfully as she tightened the old bandages on her torso , clearly deep in thought as she bit her lip looking down at them before straightening her shirt and going back to stirring her tea ,

“ are you gonna stand there and stare all day or are you gonna actually say something ? “

"Calm down, no one's staring," Candy replied with a quirked brow as she went back to gazing out a window --- they had windows now. And a view. It was strange. "The attitude isn't welcomed --- if you're cranky, you should go get some rest."

AJ hadn’t slept in an actual bed for months now and here she was, unable to fall asleep. So much had gone wrong in Miami. The one person she truly cared about protecting was gone, and she was alone — again. She was grateful to have the comfort of a roof over her head, and a place to lie down, but nothing could keep her from thinking about all the horrors they’d just witnessed. At the sound of someone else moving within the room, she opened her eyes. 

“Glad I’m not the only one who couldn’t sleep tonight,” she offered quietly, sitting up to face them.

Candy frowned at the soft voice that caught her attention --- not so much because she wished not to be disturbed, but because it meant sleep was fleeting. After the weeks of insomnia, everyone needed a good couple of hours of decent sleep. She inwardly scoffed at herself; meanwhile here she was, doing chores instead of getting rest herself.

"We should both be asleep," she reprimanded gently, but a small, knowing smile spread on her lips as she leaned against a bedpost. "Every muscle in my body just keeps yelling 'get ready to run' --- I don't know how to make it stop."