Angel In The Infield


ewan_icon.gif megan_icon.gif

Scene Title Angel in the Infield
Synopsis Ewan happens across the right nurse at the right time.
Date February 22, 2009

Cathedral of St. John the Divine

Sunday, darkness. It's not too late, curfew kicking in a little while ago, tops, but Ewan is in a horrible, horrible hurry. And the world is horribly, horribly blurry, too. In between a concussion, a system full of adrenaline, the pain and his wobbly knees, it's a wonder he's still on his feet. Still, said pain and the promise of more can be a powerful fuel, and he stumbles on along the wall, not exactly sure where he is anymore. One hand held up against his chest, hugged close with his other arm, he stops for a moment, to look over his shoulder, and breathe, leaning against the cool bricks.

He should call someone. He really should. Question is, who? As it is, he can't even bring himself to start searching for the darn cellphone in his pocket.

Getting off work in the hospital, Megan Young yanks her coat around her and grouses at yet *more* freakin' snow. Damn, is winter NEVER going to settle down? She shoves her hands into the pockets of her heavy coat, yanks her hat down over her copper hair, and checks to be sure she has her hospital papers in her pocket so that if she gets stopped, she's got the right to be out after curfew. As she rounds the corner, her 'girl senses' — the ones that all women have to alert them to not being alone on a dark street — go into high alert and she takes a more careful look around. Given the proximity of the hospital to the cathedral and to several homeless shelters, it's not like it'd be the first time she's seen people out here even when they're not supposed to be. She looks long and hard.

Ewan straightens up a little, blinking as he more or less focuses on the figure that rounds the corner, and he then clears his throat a little in an attempt to get he, she or it's attention. He couldn't really care less what particular gender said person is, but the general looks in the dark are considerably less intimidating than others he has seen, very recently. "Hey…there, um, could you tell me where I am, please?" A bit of manners can take you a long way. Especially when you have a slight accent and sound just a little like you might fall over, shortly.

The voice — and the politeness in it — at least give Megan a place to look. She starts walking toward the voice. "Yeah, sure. You're in Morningside Heights, just up from the hospital and down from St. John's." As she approaches, she's cautious — doesn't want to get mugged — but also concerned. "It's after curfew, you know. They'll have a patrol through here in a few minutes. Are you okay? Do you need a place to go?"

It wouldn't seem like there is any immediate danger of a mugging, but there is a low groan comming from Ewan, however. "…I think I do. I have a place. It's just… It's not here." He pauses there, and takes a bit of a breath. Right. There's some way to go, and probably a bit of patrol dodging on the way, too. He hugs his hand closer to his chest, and there's a sharp intake of breath. At closer look, he looks a little ruffled, and rather pale, and not terribly steady on his feet.

Megan frowns in the dark and moves closer to him. He's just a kid. Shit. "C'mon, kid…. and for God's sake, don't freakin' stab me or anything stupid," she says as she approaches him. "Let's get you inside somewhere." She turns him back toward St. John's, because the priest there has in the past been extremely 'helpful' when she's needed a private place to treat people. She slides an arm around Ewan if he allows it.

There's an initial moment of resistance, but Ewan is turned around enough to not protest someone actually offering a touch of guidance. "I wouldn't stab you… I fell down the stairs." He clears his throat again, and then frowns a little, trying to focus on her face. It's definitly made easier by her comming closer, and upclose and helpful like that, he is definitly pale. And confused, not to mention very careful to keep his hand out of the way, held close to his chest, three fingers on it definitly swollen and tender. "I used to have phonenumbers, but no phone… now I've got a phone and no one I think I should call…" he murmurs, an aside spoken outloud by mistake rather than a honest comment.

Megan narrows her eyes on the boy and shakes her head. Damn it. "you got a beef with the hospital? If you do, I'll take you to St. John's, but …. the way your pupils look even in the dark, you look like you could use the hospital."

Ewan blinks, and then stops, protest stirring again at the mention of a hospital. "I can't, I'm fine." he murmurs, the proverbial deer caught in headlights there. "They'll… I can't." Then he pauses, narrowing his eyes as he studies her face, his 'good' hand rising to put two fingers at her neck, as if attempting to find her jugular, checking for a pulse perhaps. If she'll allow it, of course. "…you do this."

Megan nods to him and says quietly, "C'mon, then." She nudges him toward the church. "The good father is supportive of allowing people who need help to keep it on the down-low out here." She keeps her arm around Ewan and walks him toward the cathedral, her expression wary. She looks around as they go, watching for patrols. "Why don't you give me the rundown while we walk so I'll be able to treat you better when we get there, okay? What happened?"

"Nothing… happened." Ewan assures her, and will let himself be walked, once she has established that they won't be going for somewhere official. He's a lot more compliant than he usually would have been, and just too brain-bashed to care. "I fell… and then I ran, and my head hurts, and I don't feel so great, and my side hurts and my fingers are broken.." He pauses there, trying to restrain the urge to check on his own neck, to find the pulsating thing there. To feel along his side, to move his hand, to feel the wrongs.

"Nothing happened my ass, kid," Megan replies tartly, hustling him toward the cathedral and around to the side entrance. When the good father opens the door, he looks concerned but he lets Megan in with her companion, leading them down a hall to a bedroom.

"You know where the first aid kits are, Meg," the padre says quietly. And then he excuses himself to let the nurse deal with her patient.

Megan slants a grateful glance at the man in black, and then she gets Ewan down onto a small cot in the room so she can get a better look at him. Wrenching open her coat, she yanks out a penlight from an inner pocket. The rest of her gear is still at the hospital, but the first aid kit should be pretty well stocked. "So tell me your name, kiddo," she coaxes as she checks his pupils, his pulse, gently runs her hands along his extremities and inside his jacket to check for problems other than his head and his fingers.

The man answering the door causes Ewan to tense up a little under Megan's wing, as it were, but as a priest is hardly any threat and he leaves them be for Megan to shine bright lights into the boy's eye, he quickly forgets about the man. Instead, he blinks, turning a little and frowning, pure reflex. "Ewan." he replies, promptly enough, although he doesn't seem all too keen on sharing all that much more, right now.

As for physical signs of discomfort, there is some obvious bruising on his chin, and a clear tenderness to the right side of his chest, although probably not enough to warrant anything broken there. Other than that, the concussion and three broken fingers on his right hand are the most visible troubles.

"This isn't a hospital…" he murmurs, looking past Megan's head, and then re-focusing on her face. "You're not a nun, are you? You can do, fix… you're not a mechanic, but almost. You fix things? What's your name?"

Her hands are careful, gentle, and thorough. Megan finally nods when she's assured herself that the young man won't keel over and die without a doctor. "I'm a nurse over at St. Luke's. My name's Megan." She gently checks his face, turning it this way and that, and then very very carefully looks at his fingers. There's a distinct wince. "Oh, you're not going to be happy when I tell you those need to be set and splinted."

"Hi, Megan." Ewan offers, and then glances down towards his hand, frowns, and then sighs quietly. "I kinda figured… think they need" He sinks back a little in his seat, and then moves his good hand, lifting it to repeat the move she just did, a gentle touch at her chin attempting to turn her head from side to side. He's not trained in the care of injured people, but then again, it's not really his memories handling his muscles right now. So, off his hand goes, to check for her pulse, if she'll let him.

Megan looks puzzled when he does it, and then frowns. "Ewan, can you tell me what today is?" Because that's an odd response.

Ewan arches an eyebrow, looking no less puzzled himself. What kind of question is that? "…I… it's.." He pauses, to close his eyes a moment and try to think. "…it's still Sunday, isn't it?"

Close enough, though it's past midnight at this point. "All right," she says quietly. "Yes, those fingers are going to need straightening. Let me get the first aid kits, okay? I'll get you started on a painkiller and ask the father to help. It's going to hurt like a sonuvabitch, but if you don't do it, they'll heal wrong and you could lose the use of your hand." She pats him gently. "I'll be right back."

Megan steps outside the small room and calls out to Father Donaghue. The dark-haired priest, perhaps in his mid-50s, comes back with the kit and he enters the room with Megan quickly. "Hello, young man," he says to Ewan. "Just hang on, all right?"

Ewan remains sitting on the bed of the small room, most of all because running away when he's actually getting help seems like an awful stupid idea. "'kay… kinda figured that, too." Broken parts healing wrong sounded worse than the pain of straightening, however bad that'll be. He looks up to the priest as the man enters, offering a brief, bleak smile. Keeping a bit of an eye on him, but still not running away. Self-control is nice. "Sure thing… I think I'll use my good hand for that, if that's okay, tho?"

The priest chuckles softly, sympathetically. "I'd highly recommend it," he tells the boy.

Megan rummages through the kit for what she needs, moving to pull up Ewan's sleeve and injecting him with a full hit of morphine with nary a by-your-leave. She also injects a local anesthetic into his wrist that will numb the entire hand within a few minutes.

Morphine and anesthetics are going to do a serious number on the boy, perhaps a good thing people like priest and nurses tend to have that 'confidentiality' thing going. He eyes the needle, but as things go, if they wanted to kill him, or hand him to the police… they would've, already. So, he takes a bit of a breath, sinks back and focuses on Megan, as well as he can, waiting to see what'll happen. "You know… I don't think I've ever tried anything from a needle, before…"

Raising an eyebrow, Megan replies mildly, "If that's the truth, I think you should keep it that way. Not something to be taken lightly, that's for sure. It can royally screw up your life," she tells the boy. Rocking back just a bit to watch him, since he'll need a few minutes for it to take effect, Megan says, "I can't promise you that your fingers are going to be good as new. I don't know what kind of damage is actually done in there. The best I can do is straighten them and hope the breaks are clean ones. If so, you'll be fine. If you have crush damage, nothing I do is going to help. How'd you break them?"

Father Donaghue leans back against the wall, his eyes averted to afford what privacy he can here.

Ewan lifts his good hand to rub at his temple, nodding. "Everyone tells me, and I really don't need more screw… Could use the up, but all good on screw, thanks…" he murmurs, and then lets his gaze move to his broken fingers, a strange, distant feeling spreading through his system. "I didn't do it myself." he murmurs, and then frowns, trying to gather his thoughts. It's important, he's quite sure. "…I fell down stairs. Landed on my hand. I don't think I'm heavy enough to crush them.. am I?"

"Nope, you're not." Which is the good news. Megan can tell he's starting to feel lightheaded. She gently touches the broken hand to see if the anesthetic has taken effect. She doesnt' want to set the hand without that in place. When he winces, she takes her hand away. "The good father here is going to give you a place to sleep while this wears off, you'll be safe here. Do you have somewhere safe to go after?"

Ewan nods, his good hand making a move to pat his pocket, and then takes a ginger grip of his wrist, testing for his own pulse with two fingers, without even seeming completely aware of doing so. "Abby let me borrow her apartment. It has a lock, and Pila and the cat… they need water and food." he murmurs, and then looks to the good father mentioned, seeing one. Mostly. "There's no place like a church for sanctuary, my mom told me stories… She got to hide in one, I think." It would seem the boy approves of this notion.

Megan gently removes Ewan's hand from his own pulse. "Your heartbeat is fine, Ewan. Calm down. I'm going to go ahead and set your fingers. Father Donaghue is going to hold you just so that you can't hurt me or yourself when it happens, okay? As soon as I'm done, he's going to let go." She waits for his assent, his acknowledgement of the situation.

Ewan frowns slightly, looking to his hand, and then offers an uncharacteristically boyish grin to both Megan and Father Donaghue. However brief, it's there. "It's not mine, it's your… thing. You do that, a lot. Your fingers know what to look for." Yeah, no one ever said he had to make sense, all doped up. But she is going to get an acknowledgement, however, in time, him nodding and sinking back on the bed. "Sure. I wouldn't wanna hurt anyone. Especially not when I'm getting help. Or myself. Done 'nogh stupid for one day…" A brief sigh, and then he closes his eyes, gingerly lifting his 'bad' arm a little, waiting for whatever might happen. Pain, most likely.

Oh, yes… oh my yes. Pain is going to be his friend for the next few minutes, though the local anesthetic will keep it from being too bad. While Father Donaghue holds Ewan's shoulders, Megan sets about calmly, efficiently, and gently pulling the boy's damaged appendages into their proper alignment. The sounds of bones snapping back into place are only audible if Ewan is silent through the ordeal. It only takes a minute or two, though, and then Megan nods to the priest and begins splinting and taping Ewan's three fingers together. "I guess I do in fact do that a lot," Megan replies with a small smile. "Many times a day."

In no way is Ewan going to keep completely quiet, not with his fingers being set back in place from their broken state. No way. He will, however, bite back around the screams, and close his eyes around the tears. With the good Father holding him in place, at least he's not going to do something bad, like worsening the broken, or hitting Megan doing her best to fix his snapped fingers. The breaks seem to have been clean enough, snapped rather than crushed.

Still, he's visibly greatful when it seems to be over, and splinting and taping can take over.

"…man, I ain't gonna be picking any pockets, anytime soon.." He has to clear his throat a little. Stupid tears. "Could've been worse… I've tried to knit spagetti, after touching people. Looking for pulse doesn't seem so bad…"

The priest ruffles the boy's hair gently and nods to Megan. She knows where to find him if she needs him again. And then he steps back out of the room. Megan continues to gently tape Ewan up. "I take it that your Evolved ability has something to do with absorbing skill sets? Is it a permanent thing for you?"

Ewan snorts a little, but there's at least a tug of a smile at the corner of his lips as his hair is ruffled. "Not really. I keep things a while, but not forever." At least not so far, in his experience. "And I don't always -know- what it is." Then he pauses, frowns, and turns his gaze to Megan's face. Uuuuh. "…I'm not Evolved…"

Megan chuckles quietly. "Of course you're not," she replies mildly. "Because, you know, picking up skills off people just by touching them is something everyone runs around doing." She smiles at him, her hands continuing their work without her having to look at them for a moment. She remains gentle with him.

That is going to give him pause, at least. Then Ewan sighs, letting out a slow breath of air. "…yeah, yeah. I know." he murmurs, moving his good hand a little nervously. "…are you going to tell anyone? I mean, not really fair, talking to me when I'm all wierd in the head and had stuff broken." More pause, and then he adds, "Falling."

"No, Ewan, I'm not going to tell anyone," Megan replies gently. "But I will tell you this much… whoever broke your fingers for you may not stop with your hand next time. So you should decide if going back to your place is safe enough. If not… there are a couple of places I can help you get to."

Ewan makes a little bit of a face, closing his eyes. "…I didn't fall there." he murmurs, his tone just a little defensive. The people he met at Abby's place, well, he couldn't imagine them breaking stuff, least of all his fingers. Even when he didn't care for the bird. So. "I was… careless. And fell." he continues, and swallows, looking up with his best Sincere Look(tm). "I'm alright. Gonna be more careful."

Megan's immune to the Sincere Look, just like she's immune to people giving her puppy dog eyes in the ER. But she does say, "It's not my business, Ewan." She cleans up the supplies she's used to splint and set his hand, putting the needles into a small plastic container and getting the trash ready to go out. She pulls out a card from the first aid kit, though. "If you ever need help, call this number, okay? It's a place called the Lighthouse, it's a new home for runaway teens and kids in trouble, people who just need a safe place to go. Or come to the ER. I'll help you get someplace, okay?" She pauses. "Ewan? I'm going to take a leap here and assume you're not registered?"

One can't blame him for trying. Ewan blinks at the card she offers up, and lifts his taped up hand first, then winces as it protests and takes it with his other hand, instead. "I heard some'fin 'bout that.." he murmurs, regarding the Lighthouse. It was on the news, wasn't it? Or was it word of mouth, somewhere? Either way. Whispers being confirmed, made solid fact in his hand, that's never wrong. Then he gives Megan another sort of look, no doubt one well known to her. A touch of guilt, and he moves his shoulder upwards a little. "…not really. Registered people get into trouble… and everyone around them, too."

Megan nods slightly. "Yeah, especially these days. Try to keep your head down, okay?" she tells him softly. "I have a feeling things are going to get a lot worse out there before they get better."

Pain dulled into a gnawing, rather than throbbing, his head swimming with natural and added feel-good, and a reasonably soft bed underneath him.. Ewan is starting to feel drowsy, and it shows, with some struggle to get and keep his eyes open. He nods, though, and sighs. "They always do… if they don't blow up the place, it's something else."

With a soft chuckle, Megan comments, "Welcome to New York, kiddo." She gently pushes his hair off his forehead. "I'm going to have the father check in on you regularly. I shouldn't have drugged you up with that concussion, but I'm pretty sure you'll be okay. He'll call me if you're not. Don't take off the splint for a good four weeks. Closer to six, if you can manage."

February 22nd: Lies And Fries
February 22nd: It's Hard Out Here
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