ArchivedLogs:Somewhere to Begin
| Somewhere to Begin | |
|---|---|
| Dramatis Personae | |
| In Absentia
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2014-10-28 Iolaus delivers some unexpected news to Isra. |
| Location
<NYC> The Mendel Clinic - Lower East Side | |
With its sharp crystalline edges and sleek lines knifing up into the sky, this building is one of the most /distinctive/ new additions to the neighborhood. An angular structure in glass and steel, the tall tower has a deceptively slender look to it that is belied by the heavy security as soon as you enter the doors. The front doors are frosted with the Clinic's logo -- a rising sun over a rod of Asclepius -- a motif echoed in many places throughout the building. Visitors to the clinic must first pass through a small mantrap, guarded by some of the Clinic's security guards; once they make it through the metal detector and airlock's double doors they emerge into the much more hospitable lobby. With dark wood floors underneath and comfortable black and red couches at its edges, the high windows give the room an airy feel. A bank of elevators to one side carry visitors to the many destination floors, while the wide welcome desk at the other side is manned by a security guard ready to help point visitors in the right direction. Tucked in a quiet corner of the isolation ward, Isra's room might at a casual glance appear unoccupied. The curtains are drawn and the lights off, the indicator lights and LCDs of the medical equipment supplying the only illumination. Isra herself is coiled up in bed swathed in blankets and wings with a tablet balanced on one knee, its screen asleep. The tip of her tail twitches every so often, and her ears prick at every faint noise from outside. The noises of Iolaus’ approach start faint - a ding of the elevator down the hall, not audible with a normal hearing range through the thick walls of the isolation floor. Footsteps, too, muffled by the reinforced glass windows. Even through the heavy doors, though, the sound of the airlocks cycling open and closed in the interior corridor are quite audible, followed a few moments later by the airlock to Isra’s room opening. Standing in the doorway, illuminated by the pale yellow light of the airlock, stands Iolaus, looking somewhat disheveled. Suit pants and a heavy belt are at slight odds to the unbuttoned collar and the state of his hair. “Hello, Isra. May I come in?” Iolaus asks, smiling weakly at the patient on the bed. He gestures to the switch on the wall. “Would you like me to turn the lights on?” Iolaus’s steps aren’t the only ones audible outside; there’s a second booted pair of feet trailing the doctor down through the basement. Jax doesn’t /look/ particularly like he is Working, marbled black-and-red skinny jeans paired with a red t-shirt proclaiming ‘All my heroes have FBI files’, knee-high boots studded in silver, a /plethora/ of glittery makeup. He’s visible only briefly behind Iolaus, glancing in momentarily to take stock of the room before he settles himself outside in the isolation room’s adjacent waiting room, curling himself into a chair and pulling out his sketchpad once he is settled.
“Of course,” Iolaus’ smile strengthens slightly, and he steps into the darkened room and over to Isra’s bed. He flicks the reading lamp on, and angles it a little bit further away from Isra, towards the back wall, then steps away from the bedside to pull a stool from one corner of the room over to the bed. “Not obnoxious at all, Isra. A puzzle, certainly, but never obnoxious. I’m sorry it’s taken us so long to find an answer, but I think we have the beginnings of one, even if it leads to more puzzles down the line.” He smiles, running a hand through his hair for a moment - a hand with a compression bandage wrapped around his knuckles, seemingly fresh. “How are you feeling, right now? Discomforted at all, or any odd emotional swings recently?” The doctor asks, eyes glancing briefly up to the hanging instruments to look over their numbers and little waving lines. Isra flinches away from even the indirect light of the reading lamp, one wing coming up reflexively to shade her eyes, and she consciously settles it back down onto her shoulder. "The hunger has eased off somewhat, but I still feel remarkably...ill. The abdominal cramps have grown worse--I believe I first reported those this morning." She studies the blank screen of her tablet. "Emotionally, I don't feel terrifically stable, but I'm not about to try to /eat/ anyone. I really just want to get out of here. Dusk..." For a moment she sounds as though she might finish that thought, but she just falls into stillness, ears pressed back against her skull. "You do /have/ an answer, then?" This last she adds abruptly, with very little inflection. “We have the beginnings of an answer, yes. First, I have a couple of questions for you, if you don’t mind.” Iolaus says, lacing his fingers in his lap. “I took a look back through your medical records, and I wanted to double check a couple of things. Are you currently sexually active?” Iolaus’ voice is calm and even. “What kind of contraception do you use?” Isra cocks her slightly head at Iolaus. "I am sexually active. I have one male partner. We do not use contraception, but we both receive regular STI screening." She sits up a little straighter, folding in her wings tight and tugging one blanket up over them. "Why is this relevant? I am not reproductively viable." “Well, I saw that note in your records as well. That’s one of the reasons that I asked,” Iolaus says, and he pauses for a moment, one of his cheeks bending in slightly as he chews briefly at the inside of it. “It seems that determination was made in error, Isra. It took us a little while to determine because the presentation is atypical, but… you appear to be pregnant.” He pauses for a second, eyes scanning over Isra’s face carefully. Isra's wings start to extend, though she catches them before they get far enough to knock anything over. She opens her mouth, then closes it and looks down at her body--as much of it as she could see through the hospital gown and blankets. Her face is blank and inscrutable. When she finally does speak, her voice is calm but predominated by the lower register. "That is not possible. I don't even have a /uterus./" “As I said, the presentation isn’t typical. I suppose the right thing to say would be that you are having an egg, more than that you are pregnant.” Iolaus’ eyes follow Isra’s as she moves, shifting slightly on his chair. “It took us a little while to understand what we were seeing from the ultrasound, but we did confirm it against the literature. We will need to consult with an expert to be sure, but so far, it looks like it is developing well.” Iolaus pauses for a moment, resting one hand on the edge of Isra’s bed, palm upturned. “I imagine this is quite a shock for you. It would be to anyone, and if you’ve been diagnosed as being infertile before, even more of one.” Another pause, and he continues. “Would you like some water?” "An egg," Isra echoes, subsiding into the bed. Her wings pull in tight, hugging her shoulders. "I don't...why now? It's not as if we haven't..." She grips the blanket, brilliant purple-gold talons puncturing the fabric as though it were but tissue paper. "The timing couldn't possibly be worse." A pause, and a fatalistic arch of one eyebrow. "No, it could be worse. An /egg./" She bites her lower lip, then winces and stops, looking back up at Iolaus. "Thank you, but I do not need any water, I'm receiving plenty intravenously. I need..." Her eyes unfocus, as if she is looking right through the doctor now. "I have not the slightest clue what I need." Iolaus is silent for several moments, looking over Isra with a faint look of concern. “I’m sorry there wasn’t an easier way for me to tell you this. I’m going to reach out to one of the clinic affiliates to get more information about what we can expect for you in the next couple of weeks, and what we can do to support you. Because of the nature of this case, termination is a little bit more complicated, but it’s still an option to consider.” he hesitates for a moment, glancing around the room. “Is there someone you would like me to call? A friend, or…?” He trails off. "What to expect when you're expecting /to lay an egg./" It is not a question, and her tone is not even incredulous in the least. "We are not discussing termination. I'm not even thinking about it until I talk to Dusk." She sinks even further into the nest of blankets. "Except I can't. He's...we'd have to go through his lawyers. I need to tell Khalida, and..." Her shoulders start shaking, her struggle to remain composed plainly visible now. "Hive. Please call Hive. I'd do it myself but--" She hugs the tablet to her chest. "I'd understand if he doesn't want to...I...please just call him." “I will. And I can have our lawyers help you contact Dusk, if that’s what it takes. We’ll get in touch with Hive right away, and talk to Dusk’s attorneys to see if they can easily get the two of you on the phone to speak.” Iolaus stands up from the stool, giving Isra another once over. “I’ll make sure someone comes down to speak to you more in a little bit as well. If you have any questions, concerns, please page the nurse and she’ll get me. Alright, Isra?” Isra worries at the blanket in her hands and nods absently. "Yes, that's...somewhere to begin, at least." Her eyes finally fix on Iolaus again, the bewilderment in them unwonted. "Also, I'm hungry again." | |
