"Hi, my friend got a little inebriated, and passed out. I was wondering if you'd mind helping me get her into the apartment."
Bill laughed. "Hey, no problem. Been there, done that." He followed Shelby to her fallen friend. Looking at the small streak of blood on Kris' chin, he commented, "She run into the door or something?" When Shelby nodded, he asked curiously, "What did you do, try to wake her up with water?"
Shelby forced a laugh. "Didn't work. You know how drunks are."
"Right." Bill eyed the attractive woman lying on the ground. "Boy is she going to feel like hell in the morning."
"I hear you." Shelby helped Bill raise Kris up to a sitting position, then watched as he hefted her over his shoulder in a fireman's carry and slowly stood up.
"Where do you want her?"
"In my bedroom. She needs the bed worse than I do, tonight."
"You ain't lying. She's really out."
Shelby grabbed two sheets and a couple of towels out of the linen closet on the way down the hallway. Preparing the bed, she quickly pulled down the covers and, leaving the sheets folded in half, spread them on one side of the bed before laying a large towel on the other side. Once she got Kris' wet clothes off, she didn't want her lying on a wet sheet.
She stood aside as Bill deposited the operative on the bed, then accompanied him out of the apartment, thanking him profusely. After securing the door, she practically ran back to the bedroom, her jovial mask replaced with worry.
Wryly aware it was mostly for her own benefit, she nervously began talking to the sleeping woman. "Don't worry. I'll take care of stuff tonight. You have no idea how worried I was about you. I'm just so glad you're okay." Shelby continued stroking the operative's cheek and muttering soothing words as her mind sorted out the best way to remove Kris' wet clothes.
After turning on the light, she leaned over Kris, gently brushed her wet bangs aside, and laid a hand lightly on her forehead. It was cool, but not alarmingly so. Her heart tightened at the red mark on Kris' face and the dried blood on her mouth, and she left to get a washcloth, also grabbing Kris' sleeping shirt from the hook next to her own on the bathroom door.
Shelby returned to the bedroom, slipped her jacket off, and tossed it on a chair. She picked up the washcloth and tenderly wiped the blood from Kris' mouth, noting it had apparently come from a cut inside her mouth. Next, she untied the operative's shoes and tugged them off. Shaking her head, she muttered almost apologetically, "I've gotta get you out of those wet clothes."
A quick trip to the kitchen and she returned with a large pair of scissors, lifted the bottom of Kris' shirt and began cutting it up the middle. She gently chastised Kris as she worked. "I don't want to hear any complaints about your clothes either. You got that? You're the one who turns up wet and unconscious at the door, scaring me half to death." Shelby's voice changed from scolding to concerned. "Who did this to you? And why are you soaking wet?"
As she cut through the fabric, the shirt fell to the sides and Shelby suddenly froze, gasping in horror, "Oh, Kris!"
Angry red and purple bruises covered every inch of skin exposed. Holding her breath, Shelby finished splitting the shirt, noting that the damage seemed concentrated beneath her friend's bra line - from her lower ribs down. Wanting to assess all injuries, Shelby gingerly approached the lower body. She had difficulty unfastening the tall woman's wet jeans, but finally got the zipper down after a struggle. Fearful of what she might find, Shelby gently pulled down the waistband of Kris' underwear, sighing with relief when she saw the bruising didn't extend much lower.
Unaware of tears tracking down her face, Shelby went back to removing the shirt, cutting a path from the center of the garment to each arm until it fell away. "Why couldn't you just talk to me? What's so hard about that? Maybe I could've helped before...before..." Her voice broke as her fingers hovered just above the bruised skin, never quite touching while she studied the jeans. They were going to be harder, and Shelby decided on just splitting them at the outside seam, thankful that they weren't overly snug.
She finally finished, setting the scissors down and ignoring the blister that had formed on her thumb. Freeing Kris from the jeans, she tossed them on the floor, followed a few minutes later by the shirt. In the best business like manner she could muster under the circumstances, Shelby picked the scissors up again. "Sorry, but this is all your own fault." Slightly embarrassed, she cut the bra in front, snipped the straps, then slit the blue stained underwear at the sides, adding both to the pile of wet clothes on the floor. Shelby gazed at the beautiful body, marred only by the mottled color of Kris' abdomen, before diverting her eyes, chastising herself for having indulged in the guilty pleasure.
She gently laid her hand on the mass of bruises, alarmed at the warmth of the angry skin. Wiping the tears from her face, she began working the damp sheets and towel free. "Your sleeping shirt's gonna have to wait until you wake up."
Quickly making her way to the kitchen, she grabbed a universal cold/hot pack out of the freezer. Returning to the agent's side, she opened the cold compress and covered the worst of the bruises, laying a comforting hand on Kris' arm when her patient stirred uneasily. Pulling the covers over her, Shelby said sympathetically, "I know it hurts. This'll help."
Her distress over Kris' injuries was compounded by a myriad of fragmented questions crowding her thoughts, though she had temporarily managed to ignore the clamoring in her mind by focusing on Kris' care. After toweling Kris' hair dry, and placing another pillow beneath the operative's head, she couldn't think of anything else to do for her.
Sitting down, Shelby took one of Kris' hands into her own. "You are going to have to talk to me when you wake up. No more of this 'it's better if you don't know' stuff. Do you hear me? Don't you know I love you?" Shelby squeezed Kris' hand reassuringly when she stirred. "I don't know what I'll do if something happens to you." Looking at the now still, silent woman, tears welled up again. "Oh, Kris, what have you gotten into?"
The last question reverberated through her mind chillingly. Shelby knew only highly trained experts would have been able to overcome Kris and beat her so brutally. She still questioned the wisdom of not calling an ambulance, but nothing appeared to be broken and each time she checked Kris' pulse, it was strong and regular. You should call someone. She tried to ignore the voice of reason. I know, but I can't. Not yet. Not until I talk to her. If I do, they'll hurt her. And if you don't, both of you are going to end up dead. Shelby sighed, and leaned against the headboard, still holding Kris' hand. Not yet.
Even as she made the decision, her mind was haunted by doubts. What possible justification could she give for not calling Dennis or Earl? I will, just not yet. I need to talk to Kris first to get all the facts. She removed the cold pack after twenty minutes, her mind continuing to torment her. Her eyes finally closed in exhaustion, the emotional events of the evening taking their toll.
Shelby's eyes snapped open and turned to Kris. She heard a moan, and immediately knew that was what had awakened her. Glancing at the clock, she noted it was nearly 0100, so she'd only been asleep for a half-hour. If the note were to be believed, Kris should be waking up at any time. Shelby returned her attention to her companion, watching as Kris continued to shift restlessly. When her eyes fluttered open, Shelby squeezed her hand. Her heart cried out in sympathy when pain-filled blue eyes met her gaze.