She woke up with a migraine. Or a headache - regardless of the name, it hurt, pounding in a weird, sharp way; it seemed to radiate from her ears inward as if a hundred tiny nails were poking through her ear canal to stab directly into the too-soft flesh of her eardrum. In short, it really ******** hurt. Groaning, she rolled over and even the sound of her own voice, the sound of polyester fabric sliding against fabric was too much, sending a way of nausea spiking through her. Preacher didn't have time for this, she thought through the throbbing. She had to get up, to put away her tent, leave... Shaking her head, she slithered out of said tent. Was this some kind of ear infection? Preacher blinked against the faint daylight, pressed a hand to her ear, and grimaced. This ******** s**t better clear up real quick; she had work today and was not going to miss out on pay because her body decided to ******** up.

Getting properly dressed would happen after the gym, but no exercise today, just a shower. Better not push it. She put her day into a mental list; it helped her to focus past the protest of her head. Pack-up, gym, work. Preacher pulled out a tent stake, then another, and then retched violently as the sound of the tent collapsing in on itself pierced through her. She crouched on all fours as the sound seemed to echo in her head, vomit splattered in front of her, barely missing the dull olive green of her tent. Breathing deeply, she stayed there for a few moments, swallowing hard. Apparently, this headache was linked to sound, she thought woozily, then wiped her mouth with the back of one hand, picked herself up, and kept going. By the time she'd managed to get everything squared away, her headache, while still there, seemed to be behaving itself more. Noises made her flinch, sent hot flashes of pain through her, but Preacher did not vomit again. All in all, a win, she thought.

Work was still a goddamn trial. Every word galloped through her head, sounding several times louder than it should. For a while, Preacher considered lifting a pair of shooting earmuffs from the locker of some hapless officer. In fact, Officer Davis always forgot to use a padlock... but she wasn't supposed to just steal anymore. She laid her head on the desk for a moment, listening to the hum of electronics through the cheap plywood. This was awful. With a huff, she stood and cracked her neck - that sound, too, hurt. Moments later, she returned to her desk with Advil and bits of blue earplugs peeking out from her ears. She always felt a little (okay, a lot) guilty asking Mercer for things. He was always so nice to her - one day, he'd come asking for favors or telling her she hadn't been worth his niceties. What a shitty day. For a moment, she closed her eyes, enjoying the muted sounds - they sounded more normal like this, even a tiny bit muffled. As the day had progressed, either she was getting used to this, or it was fading off a bit. Regardless, she hoped it wouldn't come back. Preacher was too busy just existing to have something get in her way. Especially some kind of sickness, something she couldn't fight. Mondays really sucked, she thought, but at least they were only one day.

But, two days later, it came back.