Vicki was walking slow, slightly limping, but she wouldn't let herself lag behind or make them go slow, so she forced herself to pick up speed just a bit. By the time they were at the hospital, she was slightly breathless and leaning a touch heavier against Christopher's arm. She shook her head at the question of a doctor, "No, no. I'm fine. I just need a bit of cleaning up, really. Mainly just bruises." She reassured them, her voice stubborn, though numbly quiet.

She reached one hand up, tenderly brushing fingertips against the edge of her viciously bruised head. That was the worst of it, she suspected. That single, fell blow from the edge of the metal shelf which had been pulled from the wall.