House Call


constantine_icon.gif peyton2_icon.gif

Scene Title House Call
Synopsis Constantine makes a house call at Peyton's request to see to a comatose Molly.
Date November 10, 2010

Redbird Security

Though it's evening, the lights are on in the lobby of Redbird Security when Constantine Filatov arrives. The door is locked, but Peyton is staying close by, waiting for the man's arrival so she can unlock the door and let him in. She hasn't met him personally, wasn't sure he'd come when she called, as the former socialite has just Cardinal's association and the name of Redbird to offer, along with the promise of a hefty paycheck.

The door opens to the stranger, and the tall brunette smiles. She herself looks like she could use his medical attention, though that's not why he's been called. Her dark eyes are bloodshot; dark circles bruise the areas beneath them, suggesting a lack of sleep. Dressed in just a black t-shirt, jeans, and boots, her left arm is covered in a gauze bandage down to the elbow, and she shivers a little as the chilly night area wafts into the lobby upon opening the door.

"Thank you for coming," she says, as she steps aside to let him in.

"I'm a doctor," is the reply from, well, Dr. Filatov as he steps in through the door, dressed appropriately for the weather in a heavy coat and hat. The old fashioned doctor's bag in his hand is the only thing about him that might feel 'out of place,' but otherwise he looks like he could be any other schmo off the street. "I brought everything I thought I'd need, but you'll understand if complications require me to come back another day, I hope." He doesn't seem to be expecting any 'complications,' however, because his bag is on the ground and he's taking his coat off. Clearly, he's planning to stay a while. "I might just take a look at that arm of yours if I have the time. Where is she?"

"Of course. I'd appreciate it if you did — come back — and check on her as you need to, if it goes past a day or two," Peyton says softly, tipping her head to the hallway that will lead to the stairs up to the apartments. "She's upstairs. This way."

As she leads the doctor up the steps, she glances back at him over her shoulder. "It's not bad. It got cleaned out and it's been a few days," she adds about her arm as she makes her way upstairs. "I didn't go into details over the phone, of course, but we think she's maybe trapped mentally by a telepath. We have another telepath working on it, but … obviously her physical needs need to be met, and we can't bring her to a hospital. It's just not safe. Her father entrusted her to us, and he's not back yet from what he left to do."

She moves toward Molly's apartment, opening the door and leading him toward Molly, now moved onto her bed. Aric rests asleep in a chair nearby.

"I'd thought as much," Constantine replies. Bag in hand once again, upstairs is the place to go. "If you could have taken her to a hospital, you wouldn't have called me." It's the truth. "I'll do what I can for her." And maybe for a few other people, too. The whole lot is looking like more and more of a mess with each passing moment.

Constantine sets up at Molly's bed, once he's there, not opening his bag until after he's checked the basics of her vitals. Heartbeat's a bit slow, but that's to be expected. "Her father won't mind if I conduct a blood test, will he?" he asks, finally dipping into the supplies he'd brought. First, an IV filled with clear liquid and labeled 'SALINE.' "With how long it's been, I'd like to double check that she doesn't have organ damage."

For a brief moment, Peyton's mind is filled with all of the things someone might be able to do with another person's blood, and she stares at him, lips parting as if unable to quite form words. She's paralyzed suddenly by the fact she's in charge here at the moment, though she has very little "crew" to direct — most are missing in action.

She's not so many years older than the girl lying unconscious on the bed, when it comes down to the scheme of time — especially when viewed from someone of Constantine's age.

Finally, she shakes her head. "No. No, do what you need to."

She has to trust him — he's the only choice she has.

If there is any good news to be had, it's that Constantine doesn't cackle madly, or enthusiastically thank her, or even go right for a syringe. "If you could," he begins, unraveling the thin line from the IV and attaching a catheter to the end, "Find something I can suspend the saline from. A coat rack, even a wire hanger will do, so long as there's something we can hang it from." A bit of alcohol splashed on a gauze pad disinfects Molly's arm near her elbow, and just briefly, Constantine squeezes his index finger and thumb around her limb to make a vein easier to find. The catheter's needle goes in, the gauze left on top of it, and the whole package held in place with some medical tape. And while Peyton is left to search for something to hang with, the doctor lifts the IV up so that it can begin to do it's job.

"Sure," Peyton says softly. "Let me know if there's anything I can get you, too — water, coffee, whatever."

She heads to another room to find an old-fashioned hat rack — she was the one who furnished most of the apartments, and she took pleasure in doing so, in finding items that were useful but attractive. She returns with the tall rack and brings it close to Molly's bed, then moves to stand a little out of the way of Constatine's work, yet on hand to assist him in anyway she can. She watches with solemn eyes, wrapping her arms around her slim frame.

"Thank you," is Constantine's initial reply, although he can't well finish with it. "There's a roll of duct tape in my bag, would you mind finding it? Tape will work best to keep this attached." Apparently content to not do everything himself, the doctor holds the IV of saline solution up to the coat rack, waiting for a few strips of the cloth adhesive to hold it in place.

She nods and moves to the bag, sorting through it with careful hands before retrieving the roll of silver tape and tearing off some strips. She steps closer to the rack, taping the bag into place.

Peyton glances at the bag of clear fluid and then down to Molly, lips pressing together as she studies the younger clairvoyant on the bed. "I should have checked in on her sooner," she says quietly, brows dipping toward one another in a scowl before her arms wrap around herself again. "Thank God you were around. How long for the blood test?"

"At least a day," Constantine admits. Only once the IV is secure does he bother to get another syringe from inside of his bag. "I don't have the equipment with me, and right now, the only one minding shop is me, so my schedule is a bit full, as you can imagine." He does not immediately set into Molly's arm though, seeming to think it best to wait a bit until she's had some fluid added back to her body. "The blood thickens without hydration," he explains, "Makes it more difficult to draw."

"You too, huh," Peyton says, feigned humor regarding the only one minding shop. She's starting to feel a touch out of her element with Cardinal gone — to be the one to have to make these decisions.

She reaches to brush a strand of hair out of Molly's face, and her expression darkens again, feeling like it's her fault the girl wasn't found sooner. How hard would it have been to add Molly to those she was looking in on? "I know that hydration's the most important thing, but is there anything else she might need if it's longer than a couple of days? I … I've stolen medical supplies before, I can do it again," she murmurs.

"I can leave you another IV that has vitamins added. Her activity is so low that that should suffice for a couple days more. Not much beyond that. I won't know more until I have her results, but aside from being comatose and dehydrated, she seems healthy. She's breathing without assistance, so the most you have to worry about now is keeping her hydrated and possibly having a change of clothes on hand. Sooner or later, her body will have waste it will need to dispose of."

Peyton's nose wrinkles and she nods, looking suddenly all the more tired. "If she doesn't wake up in a couple days, I can call you back? Or at that point should I … just risk everything and bring her to a hospital?" she asks, her voice small and her dark eyes suddenly glimmering with tears of frustration, fear, exhaustion. A hard blink clears them once more.

"As I said, she appears to be otherwise healthy, although I will admit this isn't the sort of thing that medicine has much experience with. If she's not awake in two more days, I'll come back, see what else can be done. If she's not awake two days after that, then it may be time to consider a hospital, although I doubt they'll be able to do much more than I can."

There is another slow nod. Hopefully it won't come to that. She stares down at Molly for a moment, then finally looks up at him. "I just need to keep her alive," she whispers. "Whatever you can do to help me do that, I appreciate it, doctor."

Hopefully Molly will wake soon; until then, all her fellow clairvoyant can hope for is that she sleeps safely in Redbird's — and now Constantine's — care.

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