Running Low


lynette2_icon.gif megan_icon.gif ryans3_icon.gif



Scene Title Running Low
Synopsis Two Ferrymen and a Ryans try to fight the clock and save Noah Bennet's life.
Date November 08, 2010

Gun Hill: Clinic

It felt like ages since they escaped the ambush set by one of the Ferrymen's own til the time they finally hauled Noah Bennet's prone and bleeding form into the clinic. What stalled them the longest was getting him into the building unseen, but with everyone waiting for the violence to explode the city, it ended up not being too big a deal.

"You die on my watch, Noah, and I will personally make sure to find you in hell and kick your ass for making me have to tell Sandra." The words are spoken softly, near the unconscious man's ear. The ex-assistant director's hands are busy keeping pressure on some of the wounds. When Benjamin Ryans straightens he sends a glance towards the woman helping him, there is no apology for those words, the two men have known each other awhile.

Three bullet holes need three hands at least, so the land lady was pulled to assist. The rest of the surviving council has dispersed to whatever duties they needed to do, whatever people they had to warn about the betrayal by Susan Ball. It was just the two of them waiting for the one medically trained person that could be found.

"Just… don't let up on that pressure." He orders her gruffly. His own hands are bloody, the sleeves of the white dress shirt he's wearing also spotted with bloody fingerprints from rolling them up. His duster, weapons vest and fedora are left discarded on a nearby chair. "Scott said she'd be here soon."

"No, I won't," Lynette promises softly, although her now blood splattered hands tremble there again the pressure bandage. Apparently, she feels she needs both of them for the job. She hasn't looked at Noah's face yet, some aversion to seeing people in such a state. "But I could use a drink after this." She probably really means something a little harder, but censors herself. "Is it even sunrise yet?"

Because this is a bad start to the day, frankly. The man they all see as a leader, no matter what sort of councils form, lying here in her building. Probably dying. If he was alert and awake, she would hit him for destroying her people's morale this way. As it stands, she just frets. Because she has a sense of responsibility for whoever happens to be in her building at the moment, and for this? There's nothing she can really do.

Megan's arrival at Gun Hill is, by necessity, slower than she would have liked. Scott went to fetch her personally, and she paused long enough to check his gunshot wound before she headed out to the other safe house. She already has the low-down on what wounds Noah Bennet suffered, and Megan packed a backpack accordingly.

"Dawn's breaking, yes," Megan responds as she sweeps into the room in a pair of urban camo BDU pants, a black long-sleeved shirt, and combat boots, strapped with a pistol holstered at her hip. Her red hair is pinned back in its acustomed French braid and she looks a little strained. Blue eyes take in the sight of the people holding wounds and she heads directly for a table where she sets her gear.

"You got anybody here who knows anything at all about surgical instruments?" Megan washes her hands as she talks, her movements efficient. "Did the bullets go through and through or am I digging for them?" she demands quickly. "And I'm going to need a pan of boiling water to field sterilize as I go." Jesus fuckin' Christ. She's not a surgeon — she hopes to God that nothing important is nicked in there.

His head snaps up as Megan arrives relief clearly showing on his features. "You're the only medically trained person that could be found." Ryans response is short, but holding no venom, just stress. "One in his arm, clean through…" He nods his head to the wound that he has one hand wrapped around. "One in the thigh " — Lynette is there — "and one in the chest, both are still in there."

Glancing back at Megan, he's worried. "I haven't seen any evidence of his lungs being hit or anything like that." He would have been dead by now, if there had been. There is a tick before he asks. "Harkness okay?" With all the chaos and then dealing with Noah, Ben hasn't had the time to find out.

"Thank god you're here," is Lynette's so very relieved greeting. "I'm afraid he's right. There's just no one else. But whatever has to be done… we can help." With some instruction, anyway.

Once she passes off that leg, she rushes over to start some water boiling, because that much she knows how to do. She even has the presence of mind to wash the blood off her hands. It doesn't save the dark splotches on her dress, but that's life. When Scott is mentioned, she frowns, worry clear on her face as she looks back over to them, letting the water heat up. "Ben… what happened?" It was just supposed to be a meeting!

"He got winged. Through and through," Megan replies succinctly. It was actually a bit more than a winging, but not so bad that Harkness would let her do more than field dress it. Not with Bennet in the state he's in. Megan dries her hands and yanks open her backpack to start pulling out the surgical and suture kits she brought with her — she didn't know what Gun Hill might have on hand. "Fucking Susan is what happened," she growls, her voice laced with rage. "Bitch sold us out."

As she sets out her instrumets, the ones she's planning on using already sterilized and ready to go for this, Megan glances at Bennet. He's looking pretty damn pale, and she tells Lynette, "We're going to need to break into the blood supplies. If you don't know Bennet's type, get me an O-neg bag and a bag of saline." The redhead moves to check the arm briefly — it's a through and through and will just need disinfecting when she's done. "There's a roll of gauze in the bag, wrap it around that arm tight enough to keep the presseure," she instructs Ryans. "I need your hands here." She's gently checking the position of the one in Noah's thigh, hoping it's just a meat wound.

"It was an execution." Ryans doesn't sugar coat the seriousness of what happened, he might as well call it what it is. He loosen the pressure on the wounds and moves to do as instructed, blooded hands living prints has he find the gauze. When he straightens, he continues, "They were all lured there, to be executed by the government, by that woman." His eyes drift up to the face of the man that helped found their very organization. "She had a large number of soldiers there, cloaked by someone in FRONTLINE armor."

His jaw clenches tight for a moment, ripping open the packaging on the roll and starting to wind it around Noah's wrist, before he speaks again, voice gravelly, "Not sure how any of us survived that." It's the truth, for him it is almost surreal that they had been able to keep those soldiers at bay. "We got lucky."

"Jesus," Lynette breaths out after a moment of processing. Please ignore the little flicker of electricity that dances through her hair as she lingers there a moment. It's more betraying of the woman's feelings on the matter than any outward reaction she has. But there's little time to linger on the whole thing, or perhaps she feels better doing something, because she shakes it all off and turns to the refrigerator in the clinic.

She ends up with the O-negative, because she does not know anyone's bloodtype. She may not even know her own. But she brings the bag over and hooks it on one of those handy stands, which she wheels on over to stand next to Bennet.

"Yeah. You did," Megan says quietly. "Scott said we lost Tien, McRae, and Serrato." Thank God… the thigh is primarily muscle, it looks like. Broke the bone maybe, as deep as it is — she'll have to get in there to be sure — but no major arteries or veins hit so in spite of the fact that it's still bleeding sluggishly, that one too should heal well enough in time. Assuming they all live that long. She leaves that wound for now to check the chest wound, which looks both the scariest and the worst of the lot. "Well… didn't hit the heart, you'd know that already," she says drily.

Yanking out her stethoscope, Megan listens intently and then grins a wry little grin. "Goddamn, Noah," she murmurs. "You have got to have twelve guardian angels on your shoulder." Looking up at Ryans, Megan says, "It missed his lung. I don't fucking know how. And I think it broke a couple of his ribs and maybe punctured his spleen, but he's breathing clear. I think he's going to be okay if we can get the bullets out and keep him stable."

There is a visible relaxing of Ryans' shoulders at the diagnosis, his fingers finishing the task at hand. "Good. Bastard is as stubborn as any." But the small hitch at the corner of his mouth says it's a compliment, if anything. "Men like him are a rare breed, they tend to have nine lives. He's got to be running low by now…" He trails off as he makes sure the bandage is in place before stepping back.

"Need to get him stable and out of here, if at all possible." With the upcoming raid, the downed council member was going to brings some issues with the eventual evacuation. "Not sure to where, but unfortunately, the evacuations are not til tonight." Which means they may very well be trying to drag his unconscious form around with them.

"I have no idea where would be a safe place, if the Ferry's been sold out. Although, his daughter's with Richard Cardinal," Lynette says, looking between then for a moment before looking back to Noah. "I'm not sure how we'd get him there safely, though."

But, it hits her that something in what Ryans said was rather amusing, and she looks up at the man with a crooked smile. "Men like him, huh?" She's just holding off a chuckle, mostly because this seems like a bad time for a laugh, and she's pretty sure if she starts, the nerves and fear and anxiety wouldn't let her stop any time soon. So, instead, she looks over to Megan to note, "If there's anything I can do… just shout. I doubt standing around and wringing my hands will do him any good."

Megan shakes her head a little, her lips tightening at the news that the evacuations are not scheduled until tonight. "You need to clear every safe house we have. Right now. Get them to alternate locations — everyone should have had a fallback rendezvous before the run to the island. Tell them to use anyplace that Susan Ball didn't know about." There's a pause at the intel about Richard Cardinal, and Megan quirks a brow. "If you can get him to Redbird… to Claire… you should do it. I'm not up on all the intel, but I do keep my ear to the ground on some things, and I'm told that Cardinal's got some kind of in with FRONTLINE. They aren't affiliated with us and will likely not be hit, and Claire'll take care of her dad."

The redhead looks at Lynette with a smile. "You can. I'm going to need to do something I have never done in my life — I'm a nurse and a medic, not a surgeon. But I'm all we've got. I can take the bullet out of his leg and set it, but it's going to be not fun." Meg looks grim. "The one in his chest is better off right where it is until I can get him to a real doctor." She moves to take the two bags from Lynette. "What I need from you is when I go in to that leg to get the bullet, I need you and Ryans to hold him down. No one is ever unconscious enough to have their leg dug into without jerking."

Lynette gets a glance, but there is no humor or anything in it, just that neutral mask. Ryans knows what the blonde land lady is getting at, but is pretty much brushing it off, except for a small short nod of his head.

Glancing at Megan, Ryans shakes his head. "One thing I know they said before all that went down, it was mentioned to stick to the plan." Lips pressed into a fine line, glancing down at his hands blood turning dark and rusty as it dries. "So I'm not sure they will do anything but that…" He looks to Megan, brows lifting a little. "When we get done here, maybe you can talk to Scott?

"Let's get him stable and then lets get in contact with this Cardinal guy." He glances between both and then blue eyes settle Megan and he gives her a short nod. "Your the boss at this point, but tell us what to do with him." Cause he really doesn't want to tell Sandra if Noah died.

"I feel I should tell you," Lynette says to Megan's instructions, "I was never any good at holding a man down." It is time to utilize the best defense mechanism she's got — Humor. But all the same, she does move down to where she was before, only her hand rests on the man's knee this time, waiting for when Megan's ready.

Lynette's gaze shifts to Ryans and she lets out a bit of a heavy breath. "I can tell you how to get there. You'll get him there," it's sort of a question, hovering somewhere between statement and query. "Richard knows him, he'll let you in."

Megan simply shakes her head and goes to work on Noah Bennet. Her hands are both expert and shaking just a bit as she places the IV lines in his arm and secures the arm to the bed. Then she removes the bullet in his leg with almost no painkiller — just enough to numb the area but still making the man squirm and whimper even in his unconscious state. Then she sets it, which makes the Ferry's de facto head literally scream out. Setting bones always sucks. When his leg and arm are bandaged, Megan takes a bit of a break to reach up and wipe her sweat-soaked forehead with the back of her forearm. Her expression is grim as she checks Bennet's breathing again. With all the movement, he still seems stable on that front and Megan shakes her head, nibbling her lip. "I can't take the other bullet out. I'm just not good enough. I'll bandage him up and we'll just have to hope it's enough," she murmurs to them both.

By time they are done, even Ryans seems more worn and haggard then he already is. Despite the blood, Ryans reaches out to put a comforting hand on Megan's shoulder, giving it a quick squeeze before it falls away. "You did good, Megan. That's all he or any of us can ask for," his voice annoyingly calm despite it all. "I'll take Huruma with me and we'll get him to Redbird."

Glancing at the Ferrymen's founder, Ryans sighs softly, "First I need to reload the vest, I went through just about all more ammo there." He levels a look at Lynette, before he moves to pick up the fedora and push it on his head, slowly. "Shouldn't take me too long."

"Yes. You're fantastic and very timely and when this is all over, I'm taking you out for a drink," Lynette says, quite sincerely, as she steps back from Noah, her hands still shaking. "Thank you. And if the plans change at all, let us know up here. I'll get a few people to start keeping watch, though, just in case." In case they get ambushed.

Lynette looks over at Ryans, worry clear in her expression, even as she nods to the plan. "Alright. If you could let me know when you get him there… we'd all breathe a little easier." And she steps over to him, because despite the fact that they said their good lucks and possibly last farewells already, she can't help but put a hand on his arm before he skips out. "And take care of yourself."

Megan does the best she can to finish patching up Noah for the trip, and then she cleans up her gear. By the time Ryans has his weapons packed back up, Megan is looking at the others. "Be careful. All of you." Her eyes flit between them. God willing they'll all make it to the boat. She has a stubborn old goat to patch up before heading back to the Hangar.

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