the bedroom. She was curled on the bed, dim late afternoon light filtering through the curtains.
"Sebastiano?" he said softly. She gave no response.
"Jennifer?" He walked around to the other side of the bed and knelt down. One arm was up in front of her face and her hands were fisted. He knelt down beside the bed and gently touched her shoulder. Pain was roaring through her and he grimaced at the intensity. Headaches and migraines were a fact of life for many psi.
"Go 'way," she mumbled.
"I wanted to make sure you were okay." He glanced at the open suitcases and guessed that she was planning on bailing. However, right now, she wasn't going anywhere, except maybe off to see Peter. "You're not.
Do you want to go to the clinic or have Peter come to you?"
"Le' me alone. Please," she said.
He brushed one finger against the back of her hand.
Guilt, despair and agony were not a good combination.
They made people make stupid choices.
"Nope." He picked up the phone at the bedside and dialed the infirmary. Sandra, one of the nurses, answered. "Is Peter still there?" Danny asked.
"No. I think he went to the cafeteria."
Danny was unsurprised. After doing work on Danny's face, the healer was probably hungry. "See if you can find him. I'm bringing Jennifer Sebastiano back to the infirmary. She has a migraine. A bad one."
"Okay, got it."
"Come on. Let's go." He gently pulled her up into a seated position. She didn't resist too much. Danny helped her stand and with one arm under her elbow and one arm around her body, he guided her out the door.
"You can close your eyes if you want, I won't let you walk into anything."
"Deserve it," she muttered.
"No you don't. You gave me a bloody nose and a black eye. Big deal. It's not like you did any permanent damage."
***
If someone had informed her that there was a machete protruding from the side of her head, Jennifer would have instantly agreed and said that it went in through her right eye socket and came out at the base of her skull. She could barely open her eyes. This was nothing particularly new. The migraines came without much warning, sometimes several in one week; other times there were weeks or months in between. She had long known that they were tied in some way to the psychic thing. If Danny Valentine hadn't been guiding her along the unfamiliar hallway, she probably would have been inching along, one hand on the wall and the other over her eyes.
She couldn't comprehend why he was being nice to her or why he didn't seem to be utterly furious. Not that she was thinking too straight at the moment.
"Almost there. Maybe I should have just picked you up and carried you," he said.
"Bring her in here," said the voice of the medical guy.
Damn, why couldn't she remember his name? Except for seeing him very briefly earlier in the day, she thought she'd met him just the once before. The room she was led into was blissfully dim. "There's a bed right beside you. You can sit down on it. My name's Peter. Seems to me you told me something about being really bad with names when Miko introduced us."
Jennifer gingerly sat down and Valentine's hands let go. She almost reached for him. Between the guilt of having hurt him and confusion at his kindness, his arms supporting and guiding her had been strangely welcome.
Peter's hands touched her face and the nausea and pain slid away with such speed, she thought she was going to pass out. Four hands grabbed her, eased her back to lie flat on the bed. The world was gray and spinning, but the pain had seemingly been sucked away.
"Just relax. I'm blocking out your pain perception. It's not actually gone. You're just not noticing it. It's going to take me a little while to fix it," said Peter.
"Anything you want me to do?" asked Valentine.
"No, I'm good. Just pull the door shut on the way out.
Oh, and go change your shirt. You look like you murdered somebody."
"Yeah, yeah. I got sidetracked. I'll probably check back and see how she's
"Sebastiano?" he said softly. She gave no response.
"Jennifer?" He walked around to the other side of the bed and knelt down. One arm was up in front of her face and her hands were fisted. He knelt down beside the bed and gently touched her shoulder. Pain was roaring through her and he grimaced at the intensity. Headaches and migraines were a fact of life for many psi.
"Go 'way," she mumbled.
"I wanted to make sure you were okay." He glanced at the open suitcases and guessed that she was planning on bailing. However, right now, she wasn't going anywhere, except maybe off to see Peter. "You're not.
Do you want to go to the clinic or have Peter come to you?"
"Le' me alone. Please," she said.
He brushed one finger against the back of her hand.
Guilt, despair and agony were not a good combination.
They made people make stupid choices.
"Nope." He picked up the phone at the bedside and dialed the infirmary. Sandra, one of the nurses, answered. "Is Peter still there?" Danny asked.
"No. I think he went to the cafeteria."
Danny was unsurprised. After doing work on Danny's face, the healer was probably hungry. "See if you can find him. I'm bringing Jennifer Sebastiano back to the infirmary. She has a migraine. A bad one."
"Okay, got it."
"Come on. Let's go." He gently pulled her up into a seated position. She didn't resist too much. Danny helped her stand and with one arm under her elbow and one arm around her body, he guided her out the door.
"You can close your eyes if you want, I won't let you walk into anything."
"Deserve it," she muttered.
"No you don't. You gave me a bloody nose and a black eye. Big deal. It's not like you did any permanent damage."
***
If someone had informed her that there was a machete protruding from the side of her head, Jennifer would have instantly agreed and said that it went in through her right eye socket and came out at the base of her skull. She could barely open her eyes. This was nothing particularly new. The migraines came without much warning, sometimes several in one week; other times there were weeks or months in between. She had long known that they were tied in some way to the psychic thing. If Danny Valentine hadn't been guiding her along the unfamiliar hallway, she probably would have been inching along, one hand on the wall and the other over her eyes.
She couldn't comprehend why he was being nice to her or why he didn't seem to be utterly furious. Not that she was thinking too straight at the moment.
"Almost there. Maybe I should have just picked you up and carried you," he said.
"Bring her in here," said the voice of the medical guy.
Damn, why couldn't she remember his name? Except for seeing him very briefly earlier in the day, she thought she'd met him just the once before. The room she was led into was blissfully dim. "There's a bed right beside you. You can sit down on it. My name's Peter. Seems to me you told me something about being really bad with names when Miko introduced us."
Jennifer gingerly sat down and Valentine's hands let go. She almost reached for him. Between the guilt of having hurt him and confusion at his kindness, his arms supporting and guiding her had been strangely welcome.
Peter's hands touched her face and the nausea and pain slid away with such speed, she thought she was going to pass out. Four hands grabbed her, eased her back to lie flat on the bed. The world was gray and spinning, but the pain had seemingly been sucked away.
"Just relax. I'm blocking out your pain perception. It's not actually gone. You're just not noticing it. It's going to take me a little while to fix it," said Peter.
"Anything you want me to do?" asked Valentine.
"No, I'm good. Just pull the door shut on the way out.
Oh, and go change your shirt. You look like you murdered somebody."
"Yeah, yeah. I got sidetracked. I'll probably check back and see how she's
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