IT WILL HAPPEN SOON / FEELS LONG OVERDUE

[heltersskelter]

CHARACTERS: tate & everyone who signed up
LOCATION: Space Bablyon & the subsequent corridor || evening
WARNINGS: violence, character death, sexual innuendo
SUMMARY: tate flips his lid and shoots some people
NOTES: feel free to start your own threads in this & threadhop for whatever your needs! tate will only be replying to characters who have signed up, but this is open to others to tag in if you want to be part of the chaos/bystanders/doctors/etc. action or prose is fine!

CORRIDORS
SPACE BABYLON
MEDICAL

Comments

MEDICAL

[heltersskelter]

medical help ITT

[doc_pompous]

[As soon as the pings go out alerting Security and Medical to a shooting at Space Babylon, Simon's quick to snap Medbay into action. He sends first aid with the Security detail, and then spends the rest of the time preparing to receive what he's certain will be a significant number of wounded.

The most he can do, of course, because it's too dangerous to go straight to the area until it's been secured, is ensure that they work as quickly and efficiently as possible, prioritizing patients as they come in and turning the entire medical complex into an emergency room.

He's easy to find, at least, and it doesn't take much to get his attention.]

[elvenking]

[By the time Thranduil was found, he'd already lost a lot of blood. As it stands, he's in shock, shivering and struggling to remain conscious. The world has long since gone soft, but the pain is as solid as ever. Occasionally his hands grip the air as if he's still trying to cling to Nymeria's coat, though he's on the bed now and no longer riding on the great wolf's back.]

[doc_pompous]

[The last time Simon had a proper conversation with Thranduil, it was during a house call--if one could call a trip to the Oxygen Gardens such. Now, however, certainly doesn't seem the time to pick up where they left off, mostly because Thranduil is wounded and disoriented.

Simon wastes no time rushing to him, giant wolf or no giant wolf--this is a patient that needs his help.]

Easy, easy.

[He assesses the situation calmly--bullet to the leg, patient clearly in shock. He'll have to work quickly.]

Thranduil, it's Si--it's Doctor Tam. You're going to be okay, I'm going to take care of you.

[elvenking]

I know. [He's not that addled, not yet.] Sireth. You helped my son.

[It's all coming in disconnected, but it makes sense to him.]

[doc_pompous]

I know.

[He remembers it very well--being unsure of what they were, exactly, and how medicine would work, or not work. A flu-like illness was one thing, a gunshot wound to the leg is another.]

And I'm going to take care of you, now. Deep breaths, all right?

itp: fretting and more fretting

[tofindthesun]

[legolas comes in as soon as he can after receiving word from his father, and is only slightly off-put when he does not see thranduil already here. but if he is injured (and legolas is quite sure now that he is) it will take time to get here.

he waits outside, inside, sitting down and standing up, moving around like a restless child (or just a very worried son), and tries not to get in the way of any of the healers.

he will be much more calm, though still restless, after his father is in and fixed up, but will remain in or around the medbay. and a little while before thranduil wakes up, he can be found at his father's bedside. fretting some more. quietly.]

((ooc: before or after thranduil arrives, either or is fine! also action or prose is fine. it's all the same in the end.))

Post-Op?

[elvenking]

[It's about twenty minutes after surgery that the anesthetic wears off enough for Thranduil to be any kind of awake. He still looks very nearly like a corpse at this point, but he's recovering from shock (thanks, intravenous fluids). It's to be expected. It's been a while since he arrived, at this point, since blood and plasma had to be replenished somewhat before he could even go into surgery. But he's lucid now, despite being drugged. As he wakes, he stirs slightly.]

Cold.

[He doesn't often feel cold. It's strange.]

\o/

[tofindthesun]

[he's almost still as a statue, waiting for thranduil to stir. while he's seen elves recover worse things, it never stops being nerve-wracking to see how they fare afterward.

he reaches for thranduil's hand (again, having taken and let go of it several times already) when he wakes, smiling thinly but relieved.]

..Shall I ask for another sheet?

[elvenking]

[Legolas' hand is warm. Thranduil grips it immediately, deciding the cold isn't worth letting go. His free hand rises to touch the oxygen tube running across his upper lip, then settles gingerly back down.]

A blanket, please.

[Not that he's going to let you walk away to find someone. Nope, you'll have to call out.]

[tofindthesun]

[bah, he doesn't need to call out. he just flags down a blanket taxi someone who looks like they work in the medbay to ask for more blankets. plural. because it's better to have too many and return the extras than to have not enough and need to ask for more.

also because he's still fretting.]

How are you feeling? [a stupid question, given that thranduil's been shot and had a piece of metal dug out of his thigh. but legolas hardly knows this, so he asks anyway.]

frets with gently (or not so gently, i suppose)

[unbraided]

[He arrives far after Legolas does, once Thranduil has already been through his surgery and has found refuge in one of the Medbay bunks. It's not till after he lapses back into sleep that Kili looks up and freezes at the sight of Legolas standing so close without him hearing. But that's no surprise still, and Kili's face crumples with relief at not being the only one here. Thranduil had said his son was here, but seeing him is another matter.]

Legolas. [He shifts so Legolas can join him and looks back towards Thranduil.] Do you know what happened?

you'd think he was dying the way they're acting OH WAIT

[tofindthesun]

[he steps out occasionally, for food or water, for a breath of air or a relief from the clamor. but in the end he always returns to thranduil's bedside, no matter how long it takes for him to wake up again. he's glad to see another familiar face here.]

Some. [admittedly. he sits down lightly, all but perched on the edge and leaning towards the bed.] He left a message and said there was someone with.. guns. Killing people. [pauses, brow furrowing together.] ..He did not say anything else but to meet him here.

sCREAMS

[unbraided]

He had already been wounded, then.

[Kili remembers the gun a young woman had shown Fili and him, back when they had been on the ship but a fortnight. Bright colored, bubbly-looking, he finds it hard to believe that something like that could have laid out the elfking he had privately felt was insurmountable, nearly invincible even.

But he had thought similar of Thorin once, and still Kili remembers the sound of bones breaking and the sight of his Uncle's blood staining mud and stone, remembers falling in an effort to protect those he loves. He watches from the corner of his eye, sees the way Legolas leans in, and wonders.]

I told him Fili was on his way. [There's something stricken in his tone, something small and scared behind the steel of his spine.] I do not wish to continue lying to him but I fear I must.

[Because he doesn't want to worry an injured friend further, and Fili has not returned a message. (Some dark thought in the back of his mind whispers that maybe his brother is laying in a hall dying while he sits at an elf's bedside. Another part of him wonders if his brother is dead already and Kili is left alone despite all they had promised.)]

aragorn | get your post-surgery care here

[therangerking]

[ When the shooting began, Aragorn was in the gardens, tending to his shift. He hears about it and knows that his skill in healing is unsuited to the injuries that are being incurred. He knows too little about guns - he has been shot once, but he knows now that that was a clean, easy wound, little different from one from a knife or a sword.

Yet he cannot remain in the gardens. He keeps to his shift for as long as possible before he goes to the medbay with athelas in his hands. He might not be of help with surgery, but he knows that patients still need care after the initial bout of healing.

And that he can give. ]

[elvenking]

[At least Thranduil doesn't know yet that Sauron is around, also recovering. He's sort of lucid and sort of not, aware of what's happening but drugged and sleepy nonetheless. So it's not that he doesn't know who Aragorn is, it's that the correct name isn't the first one that comes to mind when he arrives at his bedside.]

Isildur?

[That's not right, and he knows it immediately.]

[therangerking]

[ Aragorn stills at the sound of the name. He has been approaching the Elvenking with athelas and steaming water in his hands - at least with Thranduil, Aragorn is assured that his methods will work and be welcomed. He has barely set the bowl on the small table beside Thranduil's bed, and now Aragorn swallows down the instinctive, immediate denial.

It has been told that he has a great look of Elendil, his legendary forefather, though he owns but a fraction of the Man's heights. Elendil's legacy is one he is proud to bear, but Isildur's... he bites his lip, and lets out a breath. ]

Nay, my lord. [ He keeps his voice low, speaking softly. ] I am Aragorn, not your friend of old.

[ He thinks Thranduil knows this already, and Aragorn busies himself again, tearing the athelas leaves with his teeth. A clean, crisp smell fills the air immediately, and he drops the leaves into the bowl, dipping the cloth inside before he starts to dab gently on Thranduil's forehead, cheeks, eyes and jaw. ]

[elvenking]

[Thranduil nods, frowning slightly at being patronized, but realizing he probably sounded crazy. Any reply is bitten off by the smell of the athelas. His eyes close in blissful relief. The pain is much better already, much easier to bear than those awful mind-fogging drugs. It takes a moment for him to remember to answer, the relief is so overwhelming. His mind is even clearing somewhat. His eyes open.]

Forgive me. I could not think of your name for a moment.

[coffeeking]

[Ianto decides, upon reflection, that it's somewhat miraculous that he'd managed an entire career at Torchwood without getting shot. Oh, he'd been nearly blown up and dosed with poison gas and turned into a girl, but he'd never been shot. This is his first time, and he's decided it's absolute bollocks. Being a girl was much better, even with the awkward lumpy bits and the high heels.

He might have expressed this opinion, except he's much too busy yelling at Marty to call Martha, because she's his doctor, and to call Jack so he doesn't worry, and there's something absurd about that he can't quite put his finger on. He can't really think as coherently as usual, and that might have something to do with the blood running out of his side between his fingers.

Yes, getting shot is definitely bollocks.]

[ridesthesun]

[The sound of primitive firearms going off are what draw Nomi out in the first place. Chaos and confusion, the sound of injury? That's the first place any Jedi worth the name is going to go, to see what they can do to help. She's no exception to that rule. One hand gripping the hilt of her distinctively shaped lightsaber, the Jedi Grandmaster glides around a corner and finds herself looking at one of the victims, the shooter nowhere to be seen. He's not in great shape, either, so she can't just leave him.

Bending to check on the stranger, she gives him a stern, somewhat motherly look and holds out her empty hand.]

Hold still, I'll do what I can to help stop the bleeding.

[foolproofed]

[Marty's there. He's there, but he can't do much, and — Jesus Christ, Ianto, can't he find you somewhere for five seconds without somebody getting shot? He supposes it goes without saying, he's not his boyfriend; he won't magically re-spawn after getting a bullet to the heart. Literally.

Marty has already done what he's programmed to: have a flashback or two, feel his chest tighten up, and then apply cloth to the wound to staunch the blood flow. After he applies the pressure, he's very calm, focusing on the task at hand. He's already sent out for the people Ianto wants. For now, this is what he can contribute.

His gaze flicks to the new arrival, shoulders clenched and squared.]

Who —

You can help him? You gotta help him, man, he's losing too much blood; any longer and he's gonna start really looking like a ghost.

[He glances at Ianto's face, making sure he didn't pass out between now and the last time he'd given him that worried once-over.]

Ianto, bud, you hanging in there?

[coffeeking]

[Ianto grits his teeth and sends a wary glance to the stranger in their midst, but it doesn't last long. If she can help, she can help, and to hell with whatever her method is. As much as he'd like to mouth off something about Marty's encouraging words, he's right. He can't keep losing blood like this.]

Hanging. Did you get Jack? And Martha?

[He can't actually remember if Marty already called them. That's probably a bad sign.]

Later... [OPEN]

[coffeeking]

[So he's not dead. That's nice. And he's in medbay and being looked after – by Martha, not by any of the somewhat questionable medbay practitioners – and that's nice too. He's feeling woozy, which is not so nice, but that's probably because he's meant to be resting.]

[51stcentury]

[They made Jack step outside while they worked. Because they needed to do their job and take care of Ianto and Jack was... Well, he was being distracting. Not necessarily interfering with their procedures in getting Ianto taken care of, but there were reasons that loved ones generally weren't allowed in the operating rooms with patients, and Jack was pushing buttons in being as concerned as he was. So they made him leave, to hover in the hallway outside and wait until they finally give him the word that he's okay to come back inside again.

Jack makes a beeline for Ianto's bedside, smoothing down the bedclothes once he does, checking the other man over, noticing the woozy look on his face, trying to take as much as he can in all at once.] Hey. How're you doing?

[coffeeking]

[Ianto smiles at Jack a little blearily. He remembers that Jack had been there earlier, after Ianto had yelled at Marty about it more than was probably strictly necessary – he'd have to apologize for that – but it was all a jumbled mess in his head. He'd gone from Point A (being shot) to Point B (laying here) and the progression of events in between is permanently confused and missing pieces. But it's the results that matter.]

I'm having a serious case of deja vu.

[At least he's not dying this time.]