ways_infirmary | (no subject)

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It was never an easy thing to come into Bar for the first time. Far worse to come in bleeding and arrow torn. This was why Rachel hadn't hesitated, only taken some of the pain away and taken the poor man towards help.

Help in the form of a medlab full of doctors and equipment better able to help than a displaced mutant. Once she had him carefully laid on a bed, teke staunching further blood loss, she...had no idea what to do next.

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Kris hasn't so much as twitched while he's being moved. Not waking anytime soon. Determination's got him as far as it's going to.

The infirmary isn't so full of doctors right now; matter of fact, there's only one around, checking the inventory lists.

At the sound of their entrance, he looks up and hurries over. A quick intent gaze sweeps over the wounded man, and turns to Rachel even as he's reaching for a pair of sterile gloves.

His tone is calm and steady. "Did you see what happened?"

"He stumbled through the door" she sighed, backing away a few extra steps just to be sure.

A dark haired girl and Tantris...arrows, a Trap! They had to warn the Queen...

"Archers up on the walls, and he leaned over his companions neck to try to provide a smaller target...then there was his partner, a girl..he shielded..." her tone was a little distant, a little hollow sounding.

"And I...he can't breath right. That's the worst."

Kris' skin is like ice, and a check of his pulse will show that his heart rate is rapid and erratic. Dangerously so.

Arrows, good lord. The brief disbelieving thought doesn't make it to the upper levels of his consciousness, let alone his face.

He tugs the second glove on, scoops up a pad of sterile gauze and lays it over the wound around the broken-off arrow shaft, where the bleeding's worst. It's slowing already, though. Bad.

"I need you to put pressure on this to slow the bleeding," he tells the red-haired woman. "Can you do that?"

She simply nodded and the bleeding...stopped. She was still standing far, far from the table. One would think she disliked the infirmary for some reason or another.

"Nastier than bullets" she noted softly "And these are meant for war I think, or he thinks...barbed tips"

Kris coughs, weakly, blood trickling from a corner of his mouth.
His eyes are still shut. They might not be there, for all the reaction Simon's touch gets, or Rachel's.

A moment's doubletake that almost amounts to mental whiplash: the bleeding's stopped, but the patient's still breathing (if weakly), and the pulse under his fingers is erratic but very much there --

"Are you doing that?" Threads of surprise, unease, confusion twine around his still-calm tone. His hands are still moving, though, pulling things out of cabinets: anaesthetic, clamps, other implements.

"Yes" a simple answer to a simple question...though perhaps the action itself was far from. Blood...she knew blood.

Knew it intimately. It's purpose, it's job, the myriad pathways. It's how she'd kept herself alive...having her teke do the job that there was too little blood for.

She did such now, routing the precious fluid through the body as if it were uninjured, removing strain from the weakened heart...

"I'm a telekinetic among other things, don't worry" she offered softly, trying to quell the doctors unease.

A split-second decision -- and he says firmly: "Good. If you can keep him from losing too much blood, keep doing that."

The pressure injector hisses against Kris's arm, and Simon turns his full attention to the arrow that seems to have punctured a lung.

A closer look will show that yes, it has done. The lung isn't collapsed thus far, but that's the only good luck Kris has had. His
breathing's ragged, shallow. His eyes flutter open, unfocused, as he
turns his head. Tries to, rather.

The only good luck? No doubt Bar would beg to differ...but that was neither here nor there.

::Hold still:: the tone now was firm and unarguable, not that she'd let him move anyway.

"Simon...is conscious preffered right now or no?"

For just a moment his hands go completely still.

Then they start moving again with the same brisk sureness. He doesn't look up from his work as he says "I've just given him a general anaesthetic. He should be losing consciousness within a minute."

Kris isn't trying to move yet. However, 'strange person talking to me' and inability to move? Not a recipe for calm, given what sort of an evening he's already had. :?!:
Then it becomes academic, as his heart skips a beat. Another...

::You're among friends, and if you move right now you'll make things worse. Simon's trying to get those arrows out...::

Of all the things that could happen in a medlab...the non patient slowly allowing flame to crawl over her body is probably among the least expected. It meant that she was concentrating, letting other things go as she also began to steady the man's heartbeat...

Kris feels the pain ebb a bit. But he's wasted too much of what little he had being obstinate, and Simon's anesthetic is catching up to him.
He turns his head slightly, nods, the only response before a deeper darkness pulls him away.

He feels the man's heartbeat waver and then grow steady again, even before the anaesthetic's taken effect.

A quick glance up at the woman, and -- the flickering glow around her is familiar, but exactly how escapes him for the moment and there's no time.

(Later he may or may not realize: it's reminding him subtly of the glow he's seen before around Moiraine Sedai, when she Heals.)

"Ma'am," he tells her, "if you're helping me with this I thank you, but I need you to tell me what you're doing as you're doing it. We're going to have to move very fast here and we can't afford mistakes."

"Redirecting blood to go where it should, and keeping his heartbeat steady. Also some pain dampening along his nervous system." she listed easily.

"I...can't really think of anything else to do. I'm not healer...I'm sorry."

Kris' breathing hitches. There's a sound in his throat, as if he were
choking. His chest rises, falls, but abruptly the trickle of blood from his lips is heavier, as his face turns ashen.

"Leave the nerves alone for now, the anaesthetic should take care of it -- can you keep his lung from collapsing?"

She nodded curtly, not that Simon could see it from his vantage point at the moment..."Yes" she answered simply.

There was a flicker from her end of the infirmary now, true flame dancing and weaving as she sunk slightly deeper into her own trance type state to do as he requested. Heat not enough to burn, but precursor to the energy that cleared away the building fluids and cycled pressure through the collapsing organ.

And in the arrow wound, light danced...

There's a (brief)feel of answering power, Kris' mental shields somewhat frayed but present, the result of over a decade's practice and reinforcement. Strength's bled away by the wounds, yet...

The arrow's head had driven between two ribs, burying itself into flesh. As Rachel'd said, these were of a type meant for battle, not meant by their makers to do other than cause as much damage as they could, in being removed as well as entry.

Well, then.
Best get to work.

The surgery itself takes roughly an hour: extracting the arrowheads without causing further damage, closing the wounds, replacing at least some of the blood lost.

The patient's heart nearly stops once, and has to be stimulated.

And Rachel was patiently there through the entire procedure. Her attention never wavered, and she was quick to notify Simon of minute shifts before they became major problems.

It was an interesting way to spend an evening, and perhaps her first meeting with Simon could have gone better but...

Kris never stirs again through the surgery. By the time it's ended,
though, one can notice that he's no longer having to do battle for every bit of air. His color's somewhat back to normal, skin a bit warmer, and Rachel no longer has to help regulate his heartbeat.

"All right," says Simon quietly, stripping off the gloves, moving to the sink to wash his hands. "Nothing left to do until he stabilizes."

He looks across at Rachel. "Thank you again for your assistance, ah..."

"Rachel Grey" she offered, as much Definition as name. "It's what I do..." she shrugged. Helping...

She rarely had a chance to do much here.

"When he wakes up tell him he's safe again okay?"

"I will. Or I'll see to it that someone does."

Some hours pass before Kris stirs. His vital signs are stable by the time his eyes open. He raises his head, looks around, wincing.
"...oh..." He shivers, faintly. Confused, to be sure, but not overly fearful.

"Sir?" The voice is calm, even, coolly concerned. "Please don't try to move. You were badly injured."

The speaker comes into view. "I'm Dr. Simon Tam. You're going to be all right."

The reassurance is said with as much quiet certainty as the name.

Kris doesn't argue with the 'don't move'. His eyes narrow, as he studies Simon's face. His voice is a trifle hoarse when he speaks, but clear.
"Think I remember...earlier? You and the woman. You're not Ancar's people then." The memories are scattered but
enough for him to get the gist of the last several hours.

"No, sir."

Later, perhaps, he can tell his patient that this is the first he's ever heard the name. That this place is a long way from wherever it was he was injured ... longer than one might believe.

For now, that's too much information to tax an exhausted brain with.

"Try to rest. You're safe here."

"Not much choice there, Healer," and the title's one of respect, clearly in Kris' tone. "Ah. Herald Kris, out of Valdemar." He manages a weak smile. "Seems I have you and the lady to thank that I'm...anywhere. Thought this was the Havens, at first."

Calm, and calming: "I'll explain where you are once you've recovered a little more."

Kris quirks an eyebrow. "Should be...interesting. Later." He closes his eyes again, and drifts off.

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