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| Scene Title | The Honeymoon Period |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | The darkest hours of the night, before patients start having problems. |
| Date | Feb 15, 2010 |
Grand Central Terminal
They'd been going at it all afternoon before, all night when they started receiving people and all morning. See technically the Doctors Brennan were away for Valentines and his Birthday at some little romantic cottage on the coast roasting marshmallows while eating champagne and strawberries and trying to make another baby. Children in Chicago with the Nanny. An impromptu surprise from michelle, who arranged it all.
Only there was no champagne and strawberries and many miles beneath the ground in the Midtown ruins was where he was spending his birthday. Thirteen was not eight. Thirteen was not a number to make him happy in the least. He didn't have enough people for thirteen. Not enough experienced people to satisfy him. But it was either dive in and do the best, or bitch and moan and whine and at the cost of the people there who's only guilt was being in the wrong place at the wrong time.
He'd spent the hours before the influx, he and Megan teaching people with some medical knowledge how to put in IV's, change the bags, be careful about any airbubbles in anything, how to use the emergency defibrillators and administer oxygen as well as the refrain. Under no circumstances, was any of the refrain to be gone to anyone who didn't come out of that hellhole. It would be needed for the patients. Checklists were made on what to do and who to call if this happened, or that happened and impromptu medical charts were written up as well.
But that didn't matter when person after person was brought in. Each muscle in his shoulders tightened till Michelle thought they might pop. What right did Bella Sheridan have to do this? But with the introduction of the gun shots, there wasn't time to get angry. There was only time to start keeping as many folks alive as possibly.
So hours later, a bullet fished out of a wound and the man sewn up, IV's in the arms of many in anticipation of the withdrawals that came not long after, Brennan's sitting on a bench outside the room that is Joseph's. The two actual Ferry personnel separated from the others. His mind running over what they still need to do, triaging who's worse off, what they'll need and how he might be able to make this less life threatening for others. Michelle's off keeping the place warm, and doing her own physician thing.
Megan's been running just as ragged trying to keep up with the influx and getting word out to the Hangar that the worst-case just hit us in the face, get us the additional supplies ASAP. Taking blood samples from every patient who comes in, she gives them to a courier to take to a Ferryman lab tech over at St. Luke's in the hopes of identifying what the hell cocktails each person has been given in the hopes of mitigating at least some of the aftereffects that these people are facing. Makeshift beds and curtains are set up, IVs running full bore, and the redhead operates with the same authoritative calm that has characterized her career in both the military and St. Luke's Emergency Room.
When it appears that most are at least stable for the moment, the redhead finally steps out in a pair of blue scrubs, her copper hair tightly pinned up out of the way, peeling off yet another pair of gloves. Blowing out an exhausted breath, she listens for a long moment. No one is screaming, no one is crying, no sounds of desperate fights for someone's life reach her…. and she dares to breath out a long, slow breath. Spotting Brennan sitting outside the 'room' that's been cordoned off for Joseph, Megan drops her gloves into a bin and goes to find some coffee. When she appears in front of him there are two steaming cups in her hands, one of which she holds out silently.
"Thanks" It's about all that's muttered, energy saved by not talking too much. His hands curl around the cup and the warmth afforded by it. "Just-" He shakes his head repeatedly. "Can't believe it. Thirteen people. Happy Birthday to me right? Make sure they keep a close eye on the guy with the shoulder. He's going to need the extra care" A hand rubs across his forehead, mind still turning. "Scott's getting us everything we need? That we can think of? Make sure everyone's got blankets. Mish can adjust the temperature if need be but, be less hard on her if she doesn't have to."She looks up, one elbow on his knee, the other his palm as he looks up. "How are you holding up?"
There's a long silence as Megan sips from her cup. "About the same as in Kandahar," the redhead finally admits. "I'm furious beyond belief and just focusing on what's right in front of me because I don't have time for anything else." She smiles faintly. "Same as it always seems to work." There's a reason she was a head nurse in the emergency room. "You?" She studies him quietly. "You need some rest before the next round hits."
"Yeah. Was just checking on Colette and planned on doing that. Get a few hours in before it starts to really hit people. This is the honeymoon right now. But at least we have everyone set up, ready for when it does hit. There's a few people I want to talk to. See if they'd prefer to be somewhere else, in a hospital instead of here. Couple of them, I don't want to move at all."
He pushes up from the bench before peeking in on the girl in question then starts to walk away. "Be lucky if we don't loose a quarter of them"
"Yeah," Megan says quietly. "I know." She nibbles on her lip. "We need a good read on who's been exposed the longest. They're going to have a harder time of it. Some of them don't even know what day it is, though, so I'm hard-pressed to be able to establish it. I've got the word out to Scott and Alistair that we need our contacts in the PD to get us the missing persons reports so that we can maybe try to establish a severity."
"I know this isn't commonplace but.. I was under the impression that the Ferryman didn't do this sort of deal. Do they often go in and rescue people, bullets blazing? Or is this some strange fluke? Because I remember telling Scott that you were there on Beach street" He motions for her to walk, pausing at the curtained off cubicles to look in and see if there's something happening that can't be seen and needs tending to.
Yeah… she kind of expected this conversation to come up. Megan walks with him, checking the curtained off beds on her side of the 'aisle'. It's not until they get to the far end that she gestures him over to an alcove where their voices won't carry. "The Ferry itself rarely, if ever, goes anywhere guns blazing," the redhead informs him quietly. "Usually that is the role of the Phoenix operatives who assist us. But don't mistake taking a primarily defensive role for not being ready to fight back." She knows he saw the rifles at the Hangar.
"Beach Street was a safehouse — a way station on the Evo Underground Railroad. Humanis First got wind of our location through… unfortunate circumstances." Megan grimaces faintly — the story behind that one is not pretty. "We only got … perhaps an hour's warning that we were about to be hit. Enough time to arrange to get trucks there, to arm our people so as to cover the retreat of our charges. But yes… it required a firefight." She looks at him. "And thank God a lot of us are ex-soldiers, and we were at least partially ready. We lost more than a dozen people to Humanis First that day — not just operators. Kids. Innocents." Her tone is gentle, but matter-of-fact. "This is why I've tried to keep you very much on the periphery."
Phoenix is associated with them? His browline goes flat and there's an unfathomable look on his face as he process the information that Megan is feeding him. Little by little, he's learning more about this place and doesn't know whether it's something he wants to dive further into or not. "I promised to help negotiate, i'll do that at least, but beyond that, I think i'll be sticking to taking care of the kids or folks who need medical help Megan. No offense but…" He leans against the wall, arms tucked under the other, cup held aloft. "I got my family I need to protect and my kids. It doens't take away from how I feel for the people who need Ferryman services but…"
At some point, one needs to be selfish. "Michelle and I will need to talk about it. She wasn't happy about the safehouse out by Meadows that I seem to have partway inherited along with the kid running it. The kid who didn't know that I was going to be there"
There's a brief nod, and Megan says, "I would never ask you to come further into it than you want to come, Harve. Neither you nor Michelle. Your family, your kids… those come first. They have to. Honestly, I was somewhat surprised when you offered to help negotiate, and I had no idea you'd be stepping up to inherit a safehouse. The only thing I ever asked of you — the only thing I really wanted of you — was help for my kids, for the people who use the Ferry to get out. That's what my job is here too. It's not like I run about toting a machine gun on a regular basis or … whatever the hell else is going on out there. I'll take up arms to protect these people, but I leave the more militant aspects to other people. The service the Ferry provides is too important to split attention that way more often than we have to."
"Important enough to get the attention of Humanis First somehow" But then, the Suresh Center got Humanis Firsts attention. "But this is a conversation for another day, another time. The girls are safe in Chicago, my parents are planning to take em somewhere, likely fly out to the west coast and do disneyland. Hopefully, we can get these people off the worst of this stuff, we'll keep them on refrain-" It galls him to say that "And save that for last. Better that way. Better if we could find a chemical manipulator maybe, but I don't know any. They could help with the synthesizing of drugs or at least with the people, help them out maybe. Had one out in the Congo's but he…" Sometimes bad things happen out in the middle of nowhere.
Megan grimaces faintly. "Well, if we're lucky, the rest of the cocktail in each person is a lesser addiction issue. I sent the blood samples to a contact to test, I hope we have results soon." She pauses and looks at Harve. "Anyone who is Evo gets on Humanis First's hit list, Harve," she says quietly. "I thought you knew that already after the hit on the Center." She unconsciously echoes his own thoughts. "For what my word is worth to you, I swear I am not in any way attempting to subvert or trick you into turning into a militant Evo activist. I needed a good doctor, someone who could be counted on. And I took the chance on you because of your book… because of your reputation… and because in my experience of you, I believed you to be a man who could look past the letter of the law and understand why these people need this kind of help. That's all."
"I don't think you or any of the others i've met are trying to subvert me or mind trick me into becoming a militant evo activist. I'm already, I would like to think, one. Not militant but, you get the picture. By registering and volunteering, by working at the Suresh Center. This is just a whole different facet of the evolved community is all. Perhaps a little less than legal to boot"
But in the end, there's more important things to devote words to and thoughts to. "Make sure that the two who were taken to a different safe house. Can you make sure they don't need medical attention. I want saline run constantly on everyone, they're going to be dehydrated soon enough. Those who can drink, get them drinking. Plain old tylenol is safe to give, ward off the starting of any pains. Antibiotics too, they could get infections from where they were shot up. God damnit, she couldn't set an IV proper, just kept injecting" He's disgusted. But then, he's been like that since he found out about Bella's project.
"Refrain given only when they start getting uncomfortable. Minimum dosage. I don't like having to give that stuff, and hopefully a minimum amount will be good enough" God only knows how much they were dosed with every day. "we need to make them comfortable, they're going to be in hell. See if we can't find some books. So they can read when they want, and when they can't, someone can read to them. Help give them something to take their mind off. Get names, ages, I want weights and lets start making the rounds. Get Kaylee down here too. She brought this to our doorstep, she can get her hands dirty and see the consequences of her actions. That and depending on her telepathy, she might be able to keep them calm" He's not above using every trick in the book.
Megan is clearly paying attention to all his instructions — and like any good nurse, she will be able to repeat back to him nearly verbatim the instructions she's been given. "I've already got a call in to Eileen so I can go by and check on them. I left a message asking if my skills would be adequate or if they needed your care instead. Once I hear back, we'll coordinate efforts." Her tone is brisk, calm. "Scott's got the rest of the supplies we asked for on the way to us, and Alistair will get back to me as soon as the lab tech can isolate the blood samples. Anything else, Doctor?" she asks as if they're standing in the middle of St. Luke's. There's a hint of humor to the question, but the seriousness of the situation leeches most of her usually good-natured manner away. "And by the way…. thank you." She shrugs one shoulder. "The other night was the first time in ages I felt…. good. Having that before facing this is… helping."
"Nope, that was all Michelle. Not me. I have to tell you, our wine population took a serious hit. I'm surprised either of you were up before noon" Brennan points out. "I'll have someone fetch you if there's anything else. I'm going to go find a corner to catch some shut eye. Have them wake me when you need me" He reaches out, clamping a hand on her shoulder and offering a squeeze. "Pray to whatever gods you believe in. Hope we somehow pull a miracle out of our asses and everyone makes it"
There's a soft snicker from Megan. "I like the fancy French sheet," she chuckles softly. "Michelle has very good taste in wine." She sighs heavily, getting more serious once more. Blue eyes hold the knowledge that it's relatively unlikely unless the tech comes back with better news than she's expecting. "Get some rest," she tells him quietly. "I'll tag-team with you and Mish on the naps."