Trauma
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AN: So, I've had this written out for at least a full year, but for I lost the nerve to post it [insert chicken noises].This has just been sat on my hard drive for ages so I thought I'd put it up, just for the hell of it. It's unfinished, but I have a few chapters written out and will update every Monday until I catch up with myself. Though don't worry, I won't be ignoring Journey. Also, please note, I'm not a doctor, but I tried.
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"What've we got?" A clipped female tone demanded, rushing over to the gurney. Blood pooled onto the floor.
"Massive head trauma, multiple gun-shot wounds to the chest and shoulder – unable to determine exit wounds. Patient was found unconscious in a collapsed building. No witnesses –"
"Shit, is that blood in the iris?"
"No pupil response –"
"Did you see that man's ey –"
"Let's get him to the ER, people! Get me an ET tube – lungs have been punctured! Get some compression on that artery –"
The hospital was a blur with urgent motion. Patients with relatives and friends watched in horror as the gurney was wheeled out of sight to the emergency room, murmurs filtered through the bustle of doctors and nurses. The corridor was left in relative silence. Only the puddles of red on the floor remained.
Inside the ER, the trauma team dashed about, blood already staining their uniforms and hands. A vial full was taken quickly to match against an obviously needed blood transfusion as the endotracheal tube was quickly taped securely to a cheek. A succession of barks and orders controlled the chaos as the victim was prepped for immediate surgery.
"Looks like five entry wounds," the woman called, cutting away the bloodied clothing restricting their job. It came away in a sodden mess. "Get a press on that head inju – AAAIIHHH!"
The team of doctors and nurses leapt back with gasps and a scream as two huge objects ripped themselves from the victim, catching the equipment trolley and flinging it across the room. Blood sprayed across the walls and ceiling, across the medical team.
"What the FUCK are those?" A male surgeon cried, back pressed against the wall, splattered in red. Eyes wide in horror.
No one moved for a moment, silent, staring in shock at the thing in the center of the room. The female doctor approached cautiously. She reached a hand out to touch a leathery wing.
"Devil," someone whispered in fear.
She, along with the rest gasped sharply as a mysterious black aura rose from the figure, curling ethereally around the wounds where they swirled and lingered. The wings drooped slowly to the floor, limp and motionless.
The female doctor scoured her eyes over the young man on the table, in a state of moderate shock. Her mind was reeling, fighting against the healer and the instinct to back away quickly. She hesitated before approaching closer, watching the man's ragged breathing around the ET tube, his expression of pain, the blood slowly trickling from his body. The flow had decreased – whatever the small clouds of strange, glowing energy were, they seemed to be stemming the flow.
"What the hell is he?" Rasped a nurse, her voice high with fear. She was pressed against the furthest wall. A line of blood had caught her face.
"It's a monster – get it out of here!" Cried another female nurse, hysteria in her tone.
The female doctor turned to her sharply. "He's still a patient," she said firmly, cool eyes narrowing. "Lock that door," she jerked her head to the entrance. "No one sees this. Let's get this man cleaned up quickly, and then figure out what the hell to do with him."
The male surgeon detached himself reluctantly from the wall, staring at her as though she'd grown two heads. "You can't be serious…?" His voice was shaky.
"We're healers, we heal," she told him forcefully, steadying the quaver in her voice.
"Look at him!" The man screamed, eyes wild.
"I see a man who's injured," the doctor told him levelly, swallowing back her own fear. She narrowed her eyes at the occupants of the room, and then surged forward to treat the man by herself. If she ignored the two bloodied, demon wings, the patient was almost normal.
Reluctantly, slowly, the other staff joined her.
The surgeon removed the bullets, all five of them, although he remarked that the patient's body was forcing the metal out anyway, slowly but surely. He repaired the damaged lung and a broken collar bone – a process that should have taken many long hours given the mess of the man's body, but which in fact took half the time due to the incredible healing work of his abnormal constitution. They stitched, cleaned and dressed the wounds, including the potentially fatal gash on the man's forehead that had been far worse upon his admittance. The team was silent as they worked, afraid and shaken, but committed to their duty. A chest drain was inserted into the man's left side, removing residual blood and fluids from the chest cavity and easing the pressure.
They were about to breathe a sigh of relief when the patient stirred prematurely, moaning around the ventilator tube in his throat. His Adams apple bobbed, trying to work around the intrusion as his head began to roll.
"Impossible," the surgeon said quietly. "He couldn't regain consciousness so soon!"
"I think we've established this patient isn't normal," a male nurse said shakily.
"Can you hear me?" The female doctor leaned close to the patient's face, wary of the wings now shifting sedately. "It's okay, you're safe." She said loudly and clearly. Her team had taken a step back.
The man's hands rose sluggishly to the tube, feeling blindly where it disappeared down his throat. The doctor took his hand away gently, but he fought her weakly, desperate to remove the tube strapped to his face.
The doctor looked at her staff. "Remove the ventilator," she ordered, trying to restrain his hands. The man was becoming increasingly agitated. Not good in his state. "Quickly."
They did as they were told. One nurse was knocked harmlessly by a wing as the man struggled more and more. Once the tube was removed, the man swallowed, disorientated and pained.
"Can you tell me your name?" The female doctor asked, holding his struggling hands softly but firmly. The IV in his right hand tangled around her own wrist.
The man gasped, his breath free. He swallowed constantly, his eyes fluttering, squeezing but never opening. "Wh -where is he?" He whispered, his voice deep but weak.
"There were several others involved in the explosion so far," the doctor said calmly. "But we need to know what happened. First, can you tell me your name?"
The man swallowed, squinting against his confusion and pain. He attempted to get up but was pushed back gently. "Where'm' I?" He breathed.
"You're safe. But it's important you tell me your name –you suffered a severe head injury and we need to check your memory."
The man's brow creased and twitched constantly as he tried to access whatever recollection he could. He swallowed again and shook his head, wincing as the pain blossomed in his head. "I don't… I can't…"
"It's okay," the doctor soothed, squeezing his wrist comfortingly. "It's very likely temporary – hey, hey – lay down."
The man tried to sit, to pull his hands from the woman's grip, but he was too weak and was easily subdued. His wings knocked the up righted trolley again, but he didn't seem to notice they were even there.
"Calm down, you're still in surgery," the doctor told him, attempting to push him back down. He continued to squirm against her. "By all rights you shouldn't even be able to move. You've suffered life-threatening injuries."
"I need to… need to find him," the man groaned, his words slurred. His eyes fluttered open for the first time. His eyes still ruby red. It wasn't blood in the iris.
"Lay still," the doctor commanded, eyeing the wing nearest as it jerked from the floor. "You're body has been through a traumatic experience. You need to rest."
"Where am I?" He mumbled again, struggling against her and now another pair of hands.
"You're in Mayac Town hospital," the doctor said patiently, eyeing the chest drain tugging at the swollen skin in the side of his chest. He probably didn't even feel it amidst the rest of his pain. "Do you know where that is?"
"Hos…" He whispered, breathless as the hands managed to lay him flat once again. "Hospital…" He appeared calm for a moment, and the doctor hoped that something had sparked a memory. But his insistent goal to sit up renewed, only this time he was struggling fiercely. "No, no –"
"Whoa, hey, just calm down," the doctor said, an urgency creeping into her tone as his squirming became frantic and stronger. His huge wings knocked at the equipment in the room, taking off a chunk of plasterboard from the wall; they were too large for such a confined space. "Sedate him!" she barked.
"No… no, no," the man chanted sluggishly, thrashing in his weak attempt to free himself. His red eyes flashed as they caught sight of a nurse approaching quickly with a syringe, and his struggling became frantic. "No –"
"Calm down!" The doctor called over the noise of his commotion. The surgeon and nurses fought to restrain his flailing limbs, dodging away from the powerful wings as they up-ended one of the machines, luckily not in use. It crashed to the floor loudly.
"No – don't –" The man moaned desperately, fighting his resistors as they pinned him back down onto the table. The chest drain, miraculously, was still in place, but had ripped at the tender skin on his side. His gunshot wounds were being torn open by his movements. Blood was beginning to stain the dressings. "No!"
The nurse successfully managed to insert the syringe into a well pinned arm, depressing the plunger. The patient jerked and cried out, squirming anew, biting his lip and drawing more blood. But his actions didn't cease, and he continued to struggle against the medical staff.
"Th – there's no effect," the nurse cried.
"Double the dosage!" The doctor demanded, almost getting elbowed in the face. The leathery membrane of the closest wing bashed into her back, nearly sending her sprawling.
The nurse dashed back to the cabinet to prepare another sedative as the doctor attempted to verbally calm the strange patient. He was having none of it, driven by fear and confusion. He had lost a lot of blood and suffered extensive wounds – it was incredible for anyone in his state to still be fighting. He couldn't possibly be thinking straight, but it was possible that his reaction was instinctual – understandable given his apparent secret.
The nurse returned quickly with another syringe, acting too quickly for the patient to see. The sedative was injected once again, and after a few seconds of no effect, his movements weakened considerably and his protests died down as the sedative pumped through his veins.
"Shhh," the doctor hushed against his continued 'no's. He seemed incredibly apprehensive, even in his disorientated state. His long black hair was a bloodied, tangled mess, his pale skin in contrast cleaned of blood. The wings relaxed and the nurses slowly released their hold. "You're fine, calm down."
"The effect is still inefficient," the nurse whispered, catching a wavering hand and setting it back down.
"… Triple his original dosage," the doctor said quietly, her gray eyes on the patient as he writhed weakly, still battling the sedative. "Administer another 20ccs of benzodiazepine on top… and set up the third isolation room down on level G. No one else learns about this patient, got that?" She glared around the room as the nurse jogged, once again, to the cabinet.
"Authorities?" The surgeon questioned.
"Eventually," the doctor answered, turning her eyes back to their patient as the nurse injected the third dose of sedative. He moaned softly and stilled completely, finally succumbing. "I want to run a few scans, first… and know what we're dealing with here…"
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AN: 20ccs and benzodiazepine was googled - so I'm not sure if they're correct. If anyone who knows more than I do wants to help me out I'll take it : )