Caution: Steps May Be Slippery When Icy
There's a certain amount of paperwork that accompanies being a university student, and while Meg is the sort of person who hands things in early, one of her professors is Mr. Last Minute. Which is why she's spent the last forty five minutes, waiting to get something signed.
It was bright and sunny when she got there, but night falls pretty early in Montreal in January, and it's already getting dark and colder when she leaves. The sun-melted snow that dripped off roofs today is freezing into treacherous icy patches on walkways.
And stairs.
The young man is in a hurry, going up the steps, when he moves to avoid one icy spot he manages to push her onto another.
Meg is not quite sitting and not quite lying at the bottom of the steps. There's no pain, not yet, but she's pretty sure that once her brain has processed the flood of information coming from her ankle, it's going to hurt a lot. Because she's also pretty sure she heard the bone break.
And, yes, okay, that hurts in a breath-taking, eye-watering, oh-my-holy-good-God sort of way.
"Oh my God," says the young man, hurrying back down the steps. He has the bag she dropped when she fell. "Are you all right?"
She shakes her head, slightly. "I think my ankle's broken."
"Broken?" He drops back on his knees near her feet. "Which one?"
"Left," she says, "but please don't--" she breaks off in a hiss of indrawn breath as he touches it.
"Sorry," he says, and straightens up. "Probably shouldn't move that, then."
Meg shakes her head. "No."
"Right," he says. "I'm going to go find someone and get them to call for help. I'll be right back."
He takes off his coat and drapes it over Meg, over her protests.
"Right back," he says, again, and starts back up the steps. And then stops. "I'm Brian," he says. "Brian Reed."
"Meghan Ford," she says. "Meg."
He smiles. "Meg. Don't go anywhere, okay?"
Meg doesn't see herself as having a lot of choice in that matter. She tries to get comfortable, but given that she's sitting on an ice cold sidewalk with throbbing pain in her ankle, it's kind of a lost cause.
She doesn't wait long, though, before Brian is back with help, and someone who knows what he's doing splints her ankle, and they can get her inside to wait for the ambulance.
She's surprised, a little, when Brian announces he has no intention of leaving her alone at the hospital, and more than a little surprised when he actually sticks around for the whole process of x-rays and explanations and a having a cast put on and getting a refresher in the use of crutches. But he does. And she's glad to have him there, because he's easy to talk to and a good distraction from everything else.
He makes sure she gets back to her residence hall, and hands her off to the care of her roommate, but not before he's gotten her to agree to meet him for lunch in a couple of days, so he can check up on her.
Carrie and Olivia want to hear everything, but pain killers and sheer exhaustion are taking their effect, and so Meg promises to fill them in tomorrow and goes to bed.
She's almost asleep when it occurs to her that this a heck of coincidence. If she were the sort of person who believed that sort of thing, she might even have said she jinxed herself. She's not, of course, but still. It's going to make for an interesting time explaining things, if she winds up in That Place in the next six to eight weeks.
(And what are the odds that she won't?)
It was bright and sunny when she got there, but night falls pretty early in Montreal in January, and it's already getting dark and colder when she leaves. The sun-melted snow that dripped off roofs today is freezing into treacherous icy patches on walkways.
And stairs.
The young man is in a hurry, going up the steps, when he moves to avoid one icy spot he manages to push her onto another.
Meg is not quite sitting and not quite lying at the bottom of the steps. There's no pain, not yet, but she's pretty sure that once her brain has processed the flood of information coming from her ankle, it's going to hurt a lot. Because she's also pretty sure she heard the bone break.
And, yes, okay, that hurts in a breath-taking, eye-watering, oh-my-holy-good-God sort of way.
"Oh my God," says the young man, hurrying back down the steps. He has the bag she dropped when she fell. "Are you all right?"
She shakes her head, slightly. "I think my ankle's broken."
"Broken?" He drops back on his knees near her feet. "Which one?"
"Left," she says, "but please don't--" she breaks off in a hiss of indrawn breath as he touches it.
"Sorry," he says, and straightens up. "Probably shouldn't move that, then."
Meg shakes her head. "No."
"Right," he says. "I'm going to go find someone and get them to call for help. I'll be right back."
He takes off his coat and drapes it over Meg, over her protests.
"Right back," he says, again, and starts back up the steps. And then stops. "I'm Brian," he says. "Brian Reed."
"Meghan Ford," she says. "Meg."
He smiles. "Meg. Don't go anywhere, okay?"
Meg doesn't see herself as having a lot of choice in that matter. She tries to get comfortable, but given that she's sitting on an ice cold sidewalk with throbbing pain in her ankle, it's kind of a lost cause.
She doesn't wait long, though, before Brian is back with help, and someone who knows what he's doing splints her ankle, and they can get her inside to wait for the ambulance.
She's surprised, a little, when Brian announces he has no intention of leaving her alone at the hospital, and more than a little surprised when he actually sticks around for the whole process of x-rays and explanations and a having a cast put on and getting a refresher in the use of crutches. But he does. And she's glad to have him there, because he's easy to talk to and a good distraction from everything else.
He makes sure she gets back to her residence hall, and hands her off to the care of her roommate, but not before he's gotten her to agree to meet him for lunch in a couple of days, so he can check up on her.
Carrie and Olivia want to hear everything, but pain killers and sheer exhaustion are taking their effect, and so Meg promises to fill them in tomorrow and goes to bed.
She's almost asleep when it occurs to her that this a heck of coincidence. If she were the sort of person who believed that sort of thing, she might even have said she jinxed herself. She's not, of course, but still. It's going to make for an interesting time explaining things, if she winds up in That Place in the next six to eight weeks.
(And what are the odds that she won't?)