I had the weirdest dream in my semi-catamose, you-lost-too-much-blood-you-idiot,-so-now-you're-gonna-get-some-wacky-arse-dreams-in-return state.

There was this blonde girl grinning at her computer screen, wearing a Resident Evil 2 shirt and cupcake PJ bottoms, her bedhead curling everywhere. "I got me a 'nother review!" she shouted... At nothing. Weird kid. "That makes TENNNNNN!"

So I looked at this 'review' she was so estatic about. There was, indeed, a small little blip from a xxBlueButterflyHottixx talking about... Being "IN LOVE" with something? How some "it" couldn't get any better? Me? And Clair? What's this about an update or she dies horribly?

"What is this?" I asked the blonde chick.

She jumped and turned, then gave me big deer-in-the-headlights eyes. "Hello... Violet...?"

"Where am I? How do you know my name?"

Brushing uncontrollable bangs out of her way, she turned her face up and scrutinized me. "In my house. And I just do; I invented you, y'know."

Skeptically, I sized the girl up. Thin, wiry, and somewhat tanned. Not too much of a fighter. "Like a goddess, eh?" Not highly pretty, either.

"Not really. And stop estimating me, it makes me feel useless."

"If you invented me, how come you can't stop me?"

"'Cause I don't control, I invent. Then my inventions run amuck and I try to reighn them into just one fictional universe. It's all very simple."

"I don't agree with that."

"Didn't think you would. Now, how do you feel about the name Jason vs Sam? I'd like some insight."

"Uh... Jason?"

"'Kay, thanks. I'm glad I named him right last chappie, I was worried for a bit. Where d'you think you could've gotten that bow?"

"Dunno."

"Can I shoot it since I thought of it?"

"No."

She looked affronted. "Fine. Just for that, I'm not gonna give you back your history. So there."

And then I felt myself getting sucked back into the real, twitchie filled world, her big green eyes the last thing I saw. So, apparently, this crazy blonde chick was an almost goddess who'd invented me? Man, I'm unlucky.

I heard an "Excuse me?" from somewhere and felt an invisible slap to the back of the head... Which was odd, since I was currently resting it on one of the hospitial pillows. Best not think on that.

"Violet?"

I kept my eyes closed as I sat up (pulling the blankets with me, 'cause they were very warm) and took count of myself. Pain in leg. Lots of pain in face. One eye swollen rather threateningly. No other boo-boos. Nothing an Advil couldn't remedy.

Observing another moment of silence for its powers, I opened my good eye.

And found, hovering in front of me, a Ben Mason, in one of the rare 'Crazy Eyed' forms. I blinked a few times to focus on him, then raised an eyebrow. "Somethin' wrong?" There was a bit of a problem with my s, which didn't bode well.

"You're alive!"

I raised my eyebrow even higher. "Yes, that's the general theme when a person sits up and talks. What's with you?"

"I was worried."

"Anything been going on... However long I've been out?"

"Another day, meaning that we have about five until the civilians leave. Umm... Nothing's happened?" He was a horrible liar.

"I'm hurt, not dead. Tell the truth and don't worry about my mental stability."

"Hal feels like it's all his fault, Maggy says you owe her a new shirt since you soaked hers in blood, the civilians are dying for your pancakes, Anne can't put your tooth back and no one else knows how so you won't have one, Clair hasn't let Matt outta her sight and I've yet to see him complain..."

I took in the rest as he rambled, and mentally searched my bag for my painkillers. Finding them in my mind, I leaned over to find them with my hands... And instead found my back was, for the most part, bare.

"Who took my shirt off, Ben?" My f was jacked up too, so it took me another try to say it correctly. Man, my mouth hurt. Must... Get... To... Painkillers.

"Lourdes was afraid you'd broken your ribs."

I sighed, leaned over, and dug through the bag, puling out a shirt along with my trusty bottle of Advil. I ignored Ben's blushing and stammering when I pulled it over the sports bra, and just swallowed the pills without water.

Half an hour to go until there's no such thing as my owies.

Pulling down my pants just a tad, I encountered a crisp new bandage over my bullet wound(s). Good, 'cause poor Ben didn't look like he could deal with seeing my thigh and who knows what'd happen if I unvieled more of it. Hitching them back up, I hunched and began lacing those darling combat boots of mine.

"What time is it?"

"Six-ish."

Nodding a bit to myself I stopped abruptly with how much that actually hurt. Man, I can't even nod. This sucks. "Thanks. So, everyone's at dinner?"

"Yep."

"What say you to making a huge, dramatic entrance?"

"I'd prefer not, but I don't think it's possible with you."

"So that's a yes?" I smiled up at him hopefully, tying my last double knot and grabbing my bow to stand. I reighned in the lack-of-blood-dizziness and steadied myself. There was a whimper from my thigh, but I chose to ignore it.

He debated, then held open the door for me. "Anne's gonna flay you alive for this."

"Ah, you're helping me break out, so she'll have your skin too."

"I meant the tooth thing. Maggy found it on the sidewalk after your dropped, and apparently you're not supposed to let yourself bleed too much. Anne doesn't like how often you seem to."

"Yeah, I just try to bleed to death every other day, Ben. It's a major life goal."

Some random old dude grinned when he saw me making my stumbling way by. I waved a bit, since grinning back was out of the picture as long as my face was broken like it is. Oh the power of pancakes in a post-apoctalyptic world...

"What are you plotting to do?"

"Plotting?" I glanced at Ben, mildly amused. "Isn't that a little too harsh?"

"No."

"Quite unfortunately, you're right... I was thinking of doing the whole Wounded Warrior Wobble. Ever heard of it?"

"No, and you're a little late, Violet. Would you like chicken and rice or soup?"

Indeed, we were in the food line, which eliminated my chance at doing the WWW at the door, and I was being served... "Soup's probably what's best for my mouth, dearest boy of mine."

Ben ever so graciously helped me get my food and get seated. Many people stared on my way by, possibly 'cause I couldn't see out one eye, my face was a big bruise, and I was using my bow all Gandalf-like again. Maybe.

Hal was staring morosely at his chicken and didn't spare me a glance when I squeezed in by him on the bleachers. This was the dinner rush, so room wasn't available. Ben somehow managed to sit back down behind me again, and I hummed him a thanks when he padded my back with that fluffly (yes, fluffly) jacket.

"Some welcome you've given me," I told Hal psedo-huffily after finishing my bowl and trying my best to pretend I didn't taste my blood as it went down. Do they have band-aids for the mouth, possibly?

Anywho... He jumped, obviously not having noticed me. Then he turned really pale, and seemed slightly sick.

I frowned. "Do I look that horrible?"

Benn patted my shoulder (which was almost level with his knees) and made a negative sound through his bite of chicken and rice.

"You're alive!" Hal looked ready to hug me but, thankfully, refrained from doing so.

"Yes," I answered patiently. "I am alive."

"No, but... You looked so beaten up... Then the bruises just got even worse... And now you're up and hobbling like nothing's ever happened."

"Umm... Well, something did happen, Hal darling, and I'm currently under pain meds so I can waddle around like nothing did. I knew the dude didn't mean it, anyways."

"Who did it? Did you see his face?"

"Wipe that bloodthirsty look off, please. It doesn't suit you. And I think I might've known one of the dudes before I lost my memory, 'cause he seemed real familiar. Anyways, it's parcially my fault - I'm the one who scared the crap outta him in a dark-ish room. And they'd just seen the twitchies exit the... In fact, you didn't hear anything."

"Twitchi - oh, skitters. There were skitters in the building when we left you?" Hal had the whole Does-Not-Compute expression. "Really?"

"Erm... Not really. They kinda came in through the back after you left. One was really obese - I named him Fatty - and the other one nearly found me. But then they heard the other dudes coming and ran off. Then I scared Burly who double dosed me to the face, and then Gruff came 'round the corner. Both, though a lot of it was Burly, apologized profusely while TWTV - the one I thought I recognized - hid so he didn't have to see the blood. I think he's afraid of it. Anyways, Burly gave me his kerchief to stop the blood flow, and then you guys pulled up and I told them to skedaddle so you wouldn't shoot the crap outta 'em."

He blinked many a time before nodding slowly and going back to his food. I guess he'd gotten all the info the first time. Brownie Points to him.

"You named a skitter Fatty?" Ben chortled.

"Yes, I did. And he was fat. His last leg took a long time to move, which is how you know they're fat. The other one wasn't fat, so Fatty was the fat guy and the other one was kinda just Twitchie Two. I'm not very imaginative when it comes to naming things."

"I can see that." He took my plastic bowl from me and went to chuck it.

"Don't be mean," I shouted after him.

"I'm agreeing with you," he hollered back, already returning from his junk jaunt.

"No, dearest Ben, you are insulting me under the pretense of agreeing with a statement I earlier... Stated." I paused to give a gargantuant yawn. "What time is it?"

"Time for you to go to sleep."

"Don't wanna."

I knew Ben was raising his eyebrows. And then I felt myself getting lifted up, and being gently thrown over his shoulder, if such a thing is possible. I nearly speared myself on one of his spikes, but managed to twist so my face was smacked into his upper gluteus maximus. I "didn't notice" him freeze (insert eye roll here) and took the small hesitation to grab my staff/recurve and try to find a more comfortable position.

As if by magic, everyone turned to stare at us.

"Are you fufilling my dream to make a huge, dramatic exit, dearest?" I braced my arms on his lowerback and kinda-sorta-push-up-ish-thing-ed to see the side of his face.

He smirked at me, seeming to come to a end to some mental war, and left out into the hallways. The ride was surprisingly smooth. "Of course, sweetheart."

I mock put a hand to my heart, nearly loosing my balance and having a death-by-spike experience, and batted my eyelashes. "Did you really just call me sweetheart, dearest?"

"Yeah, I've decided that you can't have all the nicknames."

"Ah, but that is a pet name, not a nickname. There is a difference."

"Not to me."

I shrugged mentally and went back to resting down his back, careful not to stab myself on those ex-BITS-ifier spikes, idly watching the halls go by and people gawk stupidly. "Aren't we supposed to be there?"

"I'm taking you back to the hospitial."

"What?" I squeaked. "Don't bring me back there!"

"You need to. Anne will want to check on you."

"I'm fine. See, look, perfect. I don't wanna spend the night in there. Please don't make me."

"You need to, Violet. You've been shot twice and punched in the face twice more in just half a week. You need hospitial staff to check on you. That means you have to spend the night in there."

I hugged him around the middle, making sure not to press my face aginst the fabric of his tee. "Pweese?"

"No." This one was a little less steely, and a lot more strangled. "You're going."

"If I am, you're staying too."

He growled, unintentionally giving me a very nice massage. This growl was more defeated than angry, but it was still quite soothing on my abused muscles.

"I mean it," I threatened. "I'll do something to make sure you'll be in there just as long as I will."

"Fine."

Yay! I mentally cheered. "So we're going back to the room?"

"No, I'm sleeping in the hospitial with you. Anne better thank me for keeping her patient in the room after all this is done."

Shoot, I gave him an ultimatum and he took the greater of the two evils. What's wrong with the world?

"Violet?"

I came back to present. "What happened to sweetheart?"

"You seem to react better to Violet."

"Ah. Okay. Whattya want?"

"We're there, so I have to put you down, sweetheart."

"Whenever you're ready, dearest."

He gave me the weirdest face when he thought I wasn't looking. Meanie.

Anne happily welcomed us back, seated him in the bed next to mine, made a few embarassing comments, force fed me some type of medicine, and left.

Not soon after that, I heard Ben snoring lightly. I listened for the type of silence, deemed it non-lethal, and let myself slip off.