She switches to her other hand and types up and sends to a group text chat:

I can't bring the coffee sorry

also I'm having a medical emergency

She didn't know what she expected. This girl is a doll. She would win "most suggestible coed 2030" at a sorority frosh hazing.

texts quickly start appearing on Cara's phone.

What the fuck?

    Are you okay? Should we come find you?

       Cara, do you need us to call 911?

I'll tell Prof Meadows when seminar starts - you TA for her, right? she can find someone to fill your shift.

She stares with a vacant look on her face at the first 3 messages.

Then, when the fourth one comes in, she slowly starts typing "I TA for Prof Meadows, yes"

"Good girl." Vera's smile is sharp. She plucks the phone from Cara's hand and glances at the screen, then pockets it. "Now stand up. We're going somewhere" with fewer witnesses "else". She pulls Cara to her feet by the wrist she's still holding, and the contact sends another wave of that pleasant tingling sensation up her arm like a nascent heart attack. "The athletics complex is mostly empty this time of morning. Perfect place to cool off." She starts walking, not bothering to check if her Eurydice is following—the grip on her wrist ensures she doesn't have much choice. "You're in luck. I can make it stop."

She doesn't seem to have anything to say about that, but she's predictably very easy to lead wherever Vera wants to take her.

She's going to drop the phone in the pond on the quad on the way over (§ 12.1-21-05). Vera really appreciates the complete lack of eye contact or interest in the docile thing she's pulling around from the other people up this early. Sometimes, atomization has benefits!

She turns her head to look at the phone falling into the pond, but doesn't otherwise react.

She does stumble, as they step down from a curb, and starts falling forward. 

Vera yanks back on Cara's wrist, hard enough to arrest the fall but not quite hard enough to pull her upright. She lets her hang there for a moment, suspended at an awkward angle, before stepping forward and using her other hand to push her back to standing. "Careful. Can't have you cracking your skull before we get you somewhere safe." The athletics complex looms ahead, all glass and concrete in the morning light. She swipes her student ID at the side entrance. "Lucky for you, I have pool access."

In the moment she's hanging by her wrist, Cara does adjust her weight a bit to increase her stability, but (predictably) she does not otherwise react to the incident.

Followfollow.

The hallways echo with their footsteps—Vera's measured clicks and Cara's shuffling gait. The building smells like chlorine and industrial cleaner. She leads them past the main pool area, down a side corridor lined with team photos dating back decades. The women's swim team locker room door has a keypad lock; Vera punches in the code without hesitation.

"Empty until afternoon practice." She pushes Cara through the door ahead of her. The room is all white tile and metal lockers, benches running down the center. A doorway at the far end leads to the showers. Vera finally releases Cara's wrist and begins fiddling with a combination lock (§ 12.1-22-03), watching to see if the girl will stand there like furniture or actually move on her own.

Sheee is going to stand there like furniture.

Well, ok then. The locker swings open, revealing a spare swimsuit and towel. Vera pulls out both, then turns back to study her new acquisition. She walks a slow circle around Cara, noting the slack posture, the thousand-yard stare. "Strip." The word comes out casual, like she's asking about the weather.

"And put this on." She tosses her a one-piece swimsuit. It's surprisingly pale and frilly and has little trailing bits. "We're going swimming."

She obediently removes all her clothes, pulling her dress and bra off over her head, and then shimmying out of her biker shorts. She makes no effort to hide her exposed body. (If Vera hadn't already noticed that that Cara is trans, well, she does now.)

She does her best to fit herself into the provided swimsuit, too.

Vera watches with clinical interest, making no comment. She waits until Cara's done struggling with the suit before stepping forward to adjust the straps properly. Her fingers are cold even through the gloves. "Turn around." She ties the back ties tighter than strictly necessary. "There. Now you look like a proper little synchronized swimmer." She heads for the door that leads to the pool deck. "Come along. The water's going to be freezing, but I don't think you'll mind."

It does seem unlikely that she'd mind, huh.

Cara follows Vera through the pool doors.

The pool stretches out before them, Olympic-sized and mirror-still in the morning light. The air reeks of chlorine. Vera walks to the edge and dips a toe in, then glances back at Cara. "Jump in. Deep end." She gestures to the far side where the depth markers read 12 feet. "And try to touch the bottom when you get there."

Cara obediently walks over to the far end of the pool, jumps in, and starts trying to swim downward. 

She doesn't react to the extreme temperature change at all, but she's also... clearly not a swimmer. Her technique is terrible, to the point where it's not super obvious if she'll reach the bottom of the pool before she starts actively drowning.

Vera watches for a few seconds, counting. The flailing is almost artistic in its inefficiency. She pulls off her boots and gloves in quick, practiced movements, stripping down to shorts and bandeau, then dives in with considerably more grace. The water is shockingly cold but she doesn't let it show on her face. She grabs Cara around the waist from behind and kicks them both to the surface, hauling the girl to the edge of the pool.

"Hands on the edge. Hold yourself up." She keeps one hand on Cara's shoulder, treading water. "Now tell me—can you feel my hand? Can you feel the cold?" The contact tingles, that same electric sensation amplified by the water and skin-to-skin contact.

Cara mechanically stabilizes herself on the pool edge, as instructed, and then frowns, concentrating... 

"...no. and no."

Well, she'll just give her a little dunk, then.

Cara is now underwater.

Vera moves her hand from Cara's shoulder to the back of her neck, fingers splaying against wet skin. The sensation intensifies—like sparks traveling up her arm, settling warm in her chest. She could get used to this. "Your brain's shutting down everything it thinks is unnecessary. Pain, temperature, probably hunger too. Just keeping the basic motor functions running."

She uses her grip to turn Cara's head, examining her profile. "Here's what's going to happen. You're going to stay perfectly still while I figure out exactly how broken you are. Then we're going to see if I can fix it." Her thumb traces along Cara's jaw. "Or at least make it interesting."

She cannot acknowledge the order in any way while staying perfectly still, so she does not.

She also can't breathe, but that's the kind of problem that will resolve itself on its own, one way or another.