Just What The Doctor Ordered


elisabeth_icon.gif sal_icon.gif

Scene Title Just What The Doctor Ordered
Synopsis Moving mangled, melted vocal cords to be a mangled, melted wrist. Eew!
Date July 24, 2009

Cat's Penthouse in the Village Renaissance Building

The injured were all taken initially to a safehouse in Fort Lee, then quietly evacuated back to Manhattan, some splitting up to go their separate ways and some heading for the medical safehouse in TriBeca. It was to there that Elisabeth was evacuated, given the state she's in — with a somewhat severe laser burn across her hip and the upper portion of her left leg and vocal cords shredded to confetti. But her injuries were not life-threatening, as Cook's and Leonard's potentially were (Cook having had his leg half vaporized and Leo losing a hand) and so mostly she was medicated for the pain and left to be for the moment. In the time it took Sal to clear his table of the worst cases, Elisabeth slipped out with a message that she'd be at Cat's when he had time to deal with her injuries. And at Cat's she has stayed for the whole day, asleep upright in a plush chair in the living room for most of that time. It's in that chair he'll find her when he comes into the place too, being as she can't use the injured leg at all anyway and is in enough pain that she doesn't want to THINK about using it.

The last several hours has been not all that unfamiliar to Sal. He's mopped up after his fair share of Phoenix operations. Saying this one is no different would be a lie. They're all different. They're all hard and stressful. They all test his limits as a doctor.

There's only so much he could do for those who lost limbs. He's no miracle healer, but he stabilized the worst of the injuries and made sure everyone was out of immediate danger.

He's been up and using his power often for the past sixteen hours or so, so it's a somewhat worse-for-wear Sal Silvatti that makes his way quietly in to where Liz is situated. He moves in quietly, and asks in a gentle voice, "Elisabeth?"

Her head turns as she hears footsteps. Cat and her mother have been walking through ever so quietly from time to time too, and Liz slept through most of it. But she's rousing now anyway, and blue eyes open to sleepily offer a smile. She starts to say 'hi', but no sound emerges. Instead, she waggles her fingers, dislodging her cell phone from where it rested on her stomach while she slumped backward in the chair to sleep. Her neck is killing her from sleeping at that angle, but it's a minor thing. Lifting her head to look around, she taps her wrist, asking the time with a questioning look.

"It's…just after seven," says Sal as he looks at his watch. The piece looks nicer than one would expect a Ferryman to have. But perhaps it's a fake. "I hear you blew out your voice." The doctor shrugs off a backpack that holds his medical kit. There are dark, deep bags under his eyes and more than a little bit of stubble on his cheeks. But his bedside manner remains calm and attentive. It takes a special talent to stay kind when exhausted.

"Are you in any pain? And if so, scale of one to ten?" He holds up his hands to indicate he'd like her to use her fingers.

Elisabeth offers him a smile and considers her answer. The painkillers from this morning have worn off. Honesty? Or fudge it for him? When she holds up her fingers, there are 8 of them. She fumbles for the phone that fell, and types into the text screen, Could use about 10 ibuprofen.

"Oh, I've got something far better than ibuprofen," says Sal after reading the text on the screen. "Good idea, that. Though I think your texting thumb must be sore by now. This will help any pain." He pulls out a syringe and loads a liquid from a vial. Morphine. "You don't have any allergies, do you?"

Elisabeth shakes her head and then holds up her hand to stop him from giving her the shot. If you do, I won't be able to talk to you about what you're going to do.

Sal tilts his head to look at the screen. "It will take a few minutes to kick in. And what I'm going to do…well." He sets the syringe aside for a moment. Unless she shows resistance, he reaches out to gently press his fingers along her throat, searching for the sorest spots. And then, into her throat, with a pen light to look down it. "You're the SCOUT agent with acoustic powers, aren't you?"

Elisabeth can't help the flinch, her throat is thoroughly torn torn up. She hasn't even had much to drink today because it hurts that much. There's a slow nod to him, her eyes flickering warily up at him. She doesn't know how he knows that, but the fact that he does causes her a little worry. When he looks down there with a light… let's just say that likening what she's done to a royally botched liposuction job would be putting too kindly. It's kinda what happens when you amplify your VOICE instead of an outside source with ultrasound waves.

Sal's father is the mayor. SCOUT was a political hot-topic, especially during its inception. As the mayor's son, it was politically smart for him to familiarize himself with the unit. Including dossiers. Of course, Liz doesn't know that, because the man in front of her doesn't look like the mayor's son. But he is a member of Phoenix - at least for the moment.

He makes a bit of a face at the number on her throat. "Okay…" He purses his lips. "Are you left or right handed?"

Elisabeth tilts her head in a questioning fashion, the query 'why?' clear in her expression.

"I can move the damage away from your throat to another part of your body. Your wrist would be the least likely to cause complications. You'll likely lose the use of your wrist until you can have surgery or can see an Evolved healer, but you'd be able to speak and eat." Sal's voice is low and even, comforting, even while delivering uncomfortable news. He really does have a great bedside manner. Too bad for most of his career, it's been lost on socialites.

Elisabeth considers what he says and then picks up the phone to type once more. Am I better off with all the injuries in one place, or am I going to be gimped in both leg and arm? If she could speak, her tone would be matter of fact. Since she can't, the only way she can convey the calm acceptance of this is with her demeanor.

"The arm, here…" Sal motions on his own, "…would be the best place to move it for conventional surgery to be effective. If I move it to your leg, then the risks for complications grows. It's not going to tickle," he looks her in the eye. "…but it's the best thing to do. It'll be hard for you to get the proper nutrients into you with your throat like that, and an infection would be hard to take care of."

Elisabeth smiles faintly for him and types back, All injury mvd to wrist? Don't expect it to tickle — NKA, will take your shot whenever you like. Just want to know exactly what to expect. Have to explain injuries at work tmrw.

"Can I see your other wound?" Sal asks. His tone was soft before, but it's gone a bit softer. He knows how people can get awkward when injuries are in places not usually uncovered for strangers.

The blonde cop doesn't seem to have that problem — and her injury's not exactly in a private place. She reaches down to where her pants on the side away from Sal were sliced from ankle to thigh so that someone else could get a look at it. Liz is not modest in general, and this man's a doctor — if she had to flash him, she'd do it in a heartbeat.

Sal examines the laser burn carefully. "Nng. I wouldn't be surprised if you had some nerve damage. I can shift these burns to make mobility easier, but I don't think anything short of an Evolved healer will reverse all the damage. It…" He hesitates. "I think I'd be best to move your vocal injuries to your wrist now. It's going to be painful, and moving these injuries in the same period of time would put a lot of strain on your body." And his.

He takes out a plastic band to wrap it around her arm. If she doesn't object, he injects the morphine. "Just relax. Take deep breaths."

Elisabeth doesn't protest at this point, merely nodding to his assessment. She's mentally bracing herself for what he's about to do, because she has a feeling he's wildly understating just how fuckin' ugly this is gonna get. She offers him her left arm because she's right-handed.

Sal isn't the kind of doctor to sugarcoat anything, but nor is he the type to be so honest as to cause stress. He fits somewhere in the middle, somewhere in the 'it's going to hurt like fuck but I'm going to take care of you' camp. He waits and watches her reaction, and takes a moment to check her vitals. "Take slow, deep breaths. You're still going to feel this, even with the morphine."

Elisabeth meets his eyes, totally calm, and nods. 'Go ahead,' she mouths at him. It's not going to get any easier with the waiting. Will it be worse than getting shot? Eh… she's not sure. But she's done that, so….

When he's sure the painkillers have had their full effect, Sal slides a hand around her throat and rests it there with as minimal pressure as possible. Then he takes her left wrist and squeezes it gently, partially for his power, partially to reassure. "Relax…"

And then she'll feel a tingle, then a burning sensation, then absolute, searing pain. For a moment, it feels as if both her throat and her wrist are mangled at the same time. Fortunately, the morphine does take the edge off, and the dual pain only last for a second or two.

Then her throat feels perfectly fine and free of pain. Her left lower arm however, looks mangled, torn and has begun to bleed. Sal wastes no time in putting pressure on the wound. "I'm going to give you a few stitches." His voice is absolutely dead calm. "Just stay still."

As the shift begins, Elisabeth as a moment to think 'it's not so bad,' and then it hits and her whole body goes rigid with shock as she tries to bite back a scream. She manages to keep it to whimpers of agony as the vocal cords turn back into vocal cords instead of melted slag, but OH DEAR FUCKING GOD IN HEAVEN. The second or two feels like forever, and then it's all in her arm and Elisabeth can hear herself whimpering softly, her bottom lip clenched between her teeth so hard that she gets a bloody lip out of that one. "Sonuvabitch!" she cries out as it all settles in her wrist. The pain there has her practically trying to arch off the chair, which is aggravating the leg that won't hold her weight, too. Ah well.

When she opens her eyes to look at him, they're tear-drenched but her tone is firm. "Do it."

Sal can't dull the pain, but he compensates by being quick and efficient. The topical anaesthetic is applied, and soon the fire in her arm is dulled down to a low roar. She can still feel the prick of the needle, but the surgeon wastes little time in suturing up the worst of the wounds. Then he begins to dress it after applying more anaesthetic, then wraps it firmly in bandages. It still hurts, but between the morphine and the numbing sensation of the topical, it's not so bad anymore.

"There, here…" he reaches into his bag and pulls out a bottle of water. He un-caps it and holds it to her lips. "I'm going to leave you some strong painkillers. Try not to move too much. Pass it off as a grease burn from cooking. Say you dropped a frying pain full of hot oil."

By the time he's done, the morphine has kicked in enough that Liz is looking a little dopey again. But she nods slightly, cradling the arm to her once he lets go. "If you could help me to one of Cat's spare beds, I'd be really grateful. My neck's pretty sore from sleeping here all day," she says to him, a faint slur to her words. She takes the bottle of water, though, and guzzles it down as if she's dying of thirst.

"Can I get you something to eat before I go? You must be starving." Sonny leans down to help her up. His own exhaustion becomes apparent on closer inspection. That shift took a lot out of him. He's done a few of those today, and it's been awhile since he's used his abilities multiple times in a twenty four hour period. "I'll come back tomorrow and check on you, and shift the leg wound up higher, to your side and chest." It'll hurt too, but at least she'll be able to walk.

Elisabeth leans heavily on him, unable to put her weight on that leg at all. "Not really," she admits quietly. "Thirsty, though." She looks at him closely now that they're literally face to face and smiles a little. "You look about like I feel, doc." As they make their way to one of Cat's spare bedrooms, Liz murmurs, "I don't know where Cat keeps anything. But my head's sure spinning."

"You're exhausted, just had some shock and haven't had enough to eat in the past twenty four hours, no doubt," Sal chuckles warmly as he helps her towards the bed. "You're going to be feeling pretty off for awhile. I'll see if I can't find you a banana or some yogurt or fruit."

His legs almost give out from beneath him because of his own exhaustion, but he rights himself and helps her towards the bedroom. "The best thing you can do for the next few days is rest, keep hydrated and keep doped up. If they find an Evolved healer, I'll let 'em know that you're stable, but need some help to get on your feet again."

Elisabeth nods slightly, her teeth gritted against the pain of moving from one place to the other, though the morphine keeps it a good bit numbed. As he settles her onto the spare bed and she awkwardly scoots up to actually lie down, Liz asks softly, "How are Cook and Leonard?" Their damage is consistent with the same kinds of injuries Liz's throat had. It was her fault, and she knows it. She also knows that the clone of Gillian that was next to her, she killed. It's definitely something she's been having weird drug-hazed dreams about today.

"Don't you worry about them. They're being taken care of." Sal's tone remains warmly reassuring. He tugs back the covers, then pulls them up over to where she can reach them. "I'll be right back."

The doc disappears for a moment and returns with a banana, a pot of yogurt and a glass of orange juice. These he sets on the nightstand, near enough for her to reach with her good arm. "I'll make sure someone will check in on you, and leave instructions for your pills. I'll see you tomorrow."

Elisabeth can feel the drugs trying to suck her under again. And she's not entirely ready to go. His answer doesn't satisfy. "Don't softpedal with me, doc," she says firmly — or as firmly as one can when their head is spinning — when he comes back. "How bad off are they?"

"They're stable. And there's calls out to get a healer to see them as soon as possible. They're not in any immediate danger, Elisabeth. Don't worry. Just have something to eat and try to sleep, all right?" Sal smiles down at her. "Doctor's orders."

'Stable' is not the same as 'okay,' but she'll take it. "All right," Liz finally replies quietly, letting the shot drag her under again. "You get a little sleep too," she mumbles. "Can't have the doc collapsing on us."

"You don't worry about me, Elisabeth. I do twelve hour shifts standing on my head. This is nothing." A loose chuckle from Sal. It's not really the truth, but it's close enough. "Get some rest, now." And then the doc backs out of the bedroom, closing the door quietly behind him.

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