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It started out as a kind of thought experiment. So far, the most reliable way to change was when her life was in immediate danger. From anything, but injuries especially. But she didn't know where the line was crossed, if it really was only when she crossed into life-threatening territory or if any injury that was serious enough would trip off an episode. She told herself this was something she should know.

(The truth was she knew, she knew, and there was no way she would have tried it anywhere near the city if she thought for one second she would be inducing a transformation and endangering other people. She just needed to hurt.)

She knew the most common ways people broke their wrists, how to treat it once it was broken. She was careful about it, methodical, like conducting an experiment. The break was a clean one, something that would heal easily without complications. She picked her left wrist so her dominant hand would still be free for use and took careful notes about how much pain she was in, whether or not she felt the beginning of a change, if any green bled into her skin tone or eyes. Then she put everything away with care and ignored the ice pack she'd made up and put in the freezer. Instead, she went straight for her bed, where she lay on her side and held her wrist in front of her, watching with morbid interest as it swelled and bruised.

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She reached up again after a moment and grasped hold of his hand. "I'm... I am sorry. I don't know how to be better."

He gave her hand a little squeeze.

"You don't have to be better either," he said, though it was obviously an effort.

"But maybe, if you want to, we can figure it out."

At some point, her voice had been reduced to a hoarse almost-whisper.

"How?"

"That's part of what we figure out," he said, keeping his voice low, "though... it sounds like you might need that water at least."

He gave her a soft smile.

"Yeah."

She managed a rueful smile, if only for a few seconds. "Probably."

He reached up and stroked her hair then.

"Eh, a broken clock's right twice a day."

"I'm not sure which of us is the broken clock in this scenario."

Although she was fairly certain she knew which of the two of them qualified more as broken.

"I was referring to myself," he said with a small, careful smile.

She didn't quite smile, but something in her face relaxed a little bit. "I think you underestimate your clock prowess."

"There's always room to get better, though, isn't there?" he offered with a little grin.

"I suppose so."

After a moment, she tugged on his hand, wordlessly inviting him to come closer.

He came closer, looping his arm around her carefully, avoiding the wrist.

"Thank you," she said, somehow managing to make it sound like I'm sorry all over again.

He shrugged and gave her a little squeeze.

"You're always welcome. Always."

At some point, she finally took the ibuprofen he gave her and let herself fall asleep as she went from too-keyed-up still to incredibly exhausted.

She didn't wake up until a couple hours later, still tired but feeling... better, at least emotionally. Like she managed to break through a wall and come out on the other side. Physically, on the other hand - she would have been more than happy to just fall back asleep, but now that the shock had worn off, the pain that had been helping her keep herself together earlier now just hurt.

The idea of having to deal with her broken wrist was too much, still. Instead of getting up and finding ice, she pressed into Steve more and bit back a soft hiss of pain when she managed to jostle the wrist.

He woke up with a short jolt and turned sleepily towards her, making sure not to roll at her.

"Bryce? How's... how's your wrist?"

"It's..." Visibly worse than when she went to sleep, honestly. "...not good."

He seemed to wake up more at that and he rolled out of bed, turning to look at her and examine the wound. He seemed both satisfied and disatisfied with it before he actually stood up and tipped his head outside the door.

"You're going to need more ibuprofen, and I'm going to grab something to wrap it up in as well as some ice. How're you feeling?"

She sighed and sat up to get a better look at her wrist. It had heavier bruising and swelling than it did when she fell asleep, and she let out another sharp, pained noise when she tried to gently test it for mobility. "It could probably use a splint. An x-ray wouldn't hurt, either."

He paused at the door.

"I agree. I just... I wasn't sure if you'd be willing to go to the doctor."

He hadn't wanted to push.

"I'm... not thrilled about it," she admitted. "But this should be fairly safe."

Despite that, she couldn't help the tense set to her jaw.

"Do you want me to buy a splint and bring it home for you instead?" he asked, though it was clearly a fight for him to say the words. He wanted to bring her to a doctor.

She let her head tilt downwards a touch. "Could you... give me a few minutes to think about it while you get some ice?"

He nodded and said nothing else before heading straight for the kitchen. And if he took much longer than he should have to give her time, well...

If he did, she appreciated it, because she was busy trying to sort through her thoughts on the matter. Of course, getting an x-ray of her wrist down would be a good idea. She was fairly certain she didn't break anything critically, but she couldn't be sure without one and failing to properly take care of it immediately after certainly didn't help. There would be very low risk of them feeling the need to do anything more extensive than an x-ray or two and almost none for drawing blood for any reason, which was the biggest risk.

But.

She wasn't sure how convincingly she could lie about the cause of the injury right now.

Bryce looked up when she heard him coming back in. "Hey."