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There’s nothing Skye loves more than skateboarding on a beautiful day.
Okay, maybe that’s not entirely true. Skye loves many things, and tends to love them most when experiencing them in the moment they were most meant to be experienced. Hence the skateboarding currently coexisting with the sunshine and the day off.
She zips down the street, carefully selected for its minimal vehicle traffic. Every now and then, she ollies on and off of the sidewalk. Little bursts of energy when she feels too full of the whole experience and must vent it out a little, via movement, lest she simply explode. It’s a physical manifestation of her happiness, done for the pure joy of it. The spark of fear it puts into the pedestrians doesn’t hurt, either.
At the next intersection, she banks a hard right. There’s a nice little cafe just up this block, and there’s at least one tasty pastry with her name on it. Probably more than one. She doesn’t want to limit herself before she’s seen her options.
She crests over the small hill and picks up some speed on the way back down. There’s a delivery van inconveniently parked with it’s hazards on, and she glances quickly over her shoulder to gauge the traffic so she can safely merge with it.
____
When Skye opens her eyes, she realizes she’s not on her skateboard, anymore. In fact, she appears to be lying on her back. The sun seems exponentially brighter than it had before, and she squints in an attempt to dim it. She would lift a hand to block it, but she feels strangely disconnected from her limbs in a fuzzy, heavy way.
Mercifully, a shadow comes upon her and casts her in shade. She closes her eyes and sighs in relief.
“Woah, hey, I need you to open up your eyes,” a voice says. A hand grabs her arm at the same time and gives her a little shake.
Feeling cranky, Skye opens her eyes. It seems her shadow has been created by one of a few blurry lumps around her. She squints again and starts when she realizes the blurry lumps are actually people.
“Alright, let’s all give her some space, here,” the same voice says in a calm manner. All but one of the still hazy people move away, much to Skye’s relief.
“Okay,” the soothing voice continues. “Do feel ready to sit up?”
Skye takes inventory, and reaches out a hand towards the voice. She feels a hand grasp hers firmly, and, with help, she awkwardly sits up and scoots out of the road, where she had apparently been, and positions herself with her back against the cool brick of a nearby storefront, legs kicked straight out in front of her.
Skye absently reaches up to touch the throbbing mass that is her temple right now, and hisses when she hits her injury a little harder than intended. She ducks her head to cautiously reach around to the back of her skull. Careful exploration reveals a similar situation on the back of her head, as well.
“Ouch, huh?”
Skye had kind of forgotten about her shadow. She peers up through her hair at her helper and stops in her tracks. Currently crouching beside her, with one hand on Skye’s knee and a look of cheerful concern on her face is the most beautiful woman Skye has ever seen in her life. She’s still feeling super hazy, but she’s pretty sure her jaw drops.
Concerned by the prolonged silence, the woman ducks her head a bit to look more directly into Skye’s eyes. “Are you alright?” she queries gently.
“You’ve got to tell me your name,” Skye blurts out.
The woman laughs easily. “You’ve got this all mixed up. You’re the one with a matching pair of goose eggs on your head, so you’re the one who needs to tell me their name.”
Skye can’t look away. “I’m Skye.”
“Well, your name didn’t get knocked out of your head, so that’s a nice start. Do you know what today is?”
“You have an accent,” Skye answers.
“At least your brain has finally caught up to that,” the woman responds with mock exasperation. “You’re probably concussed. I’m attempting to evaluate your symptoms. I know you’re probably finding it a bit hard to concentrate, but I would appreciate at least a little cooperation.”
“I’m Skye, it’s Tuesday, my first day off in weeks, skateboarding, Obama.”
The woman purses her lips. “Not your first rodeo, then?”
Skye shakes her head, then regrets it. “Nope. Been through the drill. What happened?”
“You were, as they say, ‘doored’.”
“Son of a bitch.” Skye examines her elbow, which also seems to have had a part in breaking her fall.
The woman watches her sympathetically. “From the look of it, you went headfirst into the driver’s door, giving him quite a surprise, no doubt, and then smashed the other side of your head on the ground on the way down.”
Skye sighs. “Bummer.” she gives her legs a test shake. Her body was feeling more connected, but her brain was still a little blurry around the edges. She squints at the other woman. “Do you stop to scrape up all skateboarders off the pavement, or am I a special case?”
“I’m a trained first responder,” she answers, leaning close to examine Skye’s eyes. “It made me feel better about leaving the people part of science behind.”
Skye feels a bit overwhelmed by the close gaze. “This is the luckiest concussion I’ve every had.”
The woman looks at her strangely. “I’m not sure what you mean.”
“How else would I get to talk to you?”
Laughing, the woman shakes her head. “You’re pretty smooth when your brains are scrambled.”
“It’s even better when they’re not,” Skye responds, completely in earnest. “Give me your number. You could find out. For science.”
The woman raises an eyebrow at her.
Skye shrugs unapologetically. “I bet all your patients ask you that.”
“Only the ones with head trauma, I’m afraid, so I’ve learned to take it with a grain of salt.”
Skye grins, and taps the toes of her sneakers together in delight, feeling inexplicably wonderful despite her latest concussion.
The woman watches her with a speculative gaze. “Are you far from home? Can I give you a lift somewhere?”
Skye gives a shrug, feeling completely unable to break this woman’s gaze. “A couple miles. I can probably find a bus or something.”
Her hero looks to the side in contemplation, then sighs and shrugs back at Skye. “In for a penny, in for a pound. Up you go.” She stands and holds out both hands to Skye.
Skye stares for a moment and then reaches out and allows herself to be hauled to her feet, but resists being guided down the street.
Puzzled, the woman pauses. “My car’s just this way…”
Skye holds her ground stubbornly. “I need a pastry.”
That declarations earns her a bemused look. “You’re not serious. If I let go of you, you would add another goose egg to that thick head of yours. The last thing we need is to try to navigate that crowded cafe.”
“I skateboarded miles. I brained myself on a car door. I’m not leaving without at least a croissant.”
A sigh is the only response.
“Besides,” Skye continues with a mischievous grin, “If you won’t give me your name or number, I’m going to have to create my own opportunities.
The woman rolls her eyes. “For god’s sake. Just come to the car. We will work something out for food when we get to your place.”
“What about the other things?”
With a grudging grin, the woman holds out the hand that isn’t currently holding Skye up. “Jemma.”
Skye reaches out her free hand and gives Jemma’s a shake. “Skye.”
“Yes, I know that. It’s not my grey matter that’s been smashed around.” Jemma’s tone is somewhere between amused and exasperated.
Not at all bothered, Skye smiles contentedly and leans more securely against Jemma, this time allowing the other woman to guide her down the street. “You just wait ’til I can think in full sentences, Jemma. You’re totally going to like me.”
She almost misses Jemma’s quiet response. “I already might.”
She’s not sure if it’s the concussion or Jemma’s words that make her feel a bit dizzy, but regardless, this is the best day off ever. And, it’s only going to get better.