ArchivedLogs:Unconventional Candy Striping

Unconventional Candy Striping
Dramatis Personae Corey, Hive, Kate, Flicker	2014-03-29 '
Location <NYC> Mount Sinai Hospital - Harlem
On the cutting edge of many medical technologies, Mount Sinai Hospital is often ranked as one of the nation's best hospitals. The medical school attached is one of the best in the world, meaning that even your med students know what they are doing. Chin up, then -- when you come in here badly mutilated after the latest terrible catastrophe in Times Square, you're in good hands. Flicker's hospital room is quiet, Saturday afternoon. There's a tray of hospital-issue lunch (the vegetarian option has included plain marinara pasta, a breadroll, a tub of red jello, a plastic carton of orange juice, and a dish of peas and carrots) that looks like it's been barely touched. A nibble out of the breadroll, maybe a bite of pasta. The orange juice is gone. In bed, Flicker is a mess of bandaging, freshly changed; there's patchy white bandaging covering his eyes as well as a good deal of his head, though it's left most of the lower half of his scarred face uncovered. He has a pair of headphones slipped over his head, hooked into a new cellphone, though -- /headphones/ means it's hard to say what he's listening to. Or, with the bandaging over his eyes, if he's even still awake while it plays. Beside him, Hive is in his usual position of vigil at Flicker's bedside. He looks bone-tired, his tan skin managing a sallow sort of pallor, cheeks sunken, eyes sunken and heavily raccoon-shadowed. He is in a plain grey v-neck tee with a black denim shirt unbuttoned over it, jeans, his heavy workboots removed to leave just warm black socks. No hat on his head -- his dark hair has grown back fuzzy enough to shed his CancerPatient look but not long enough to fully hide the ropey-thick scars that curl around the sides of his skull. He has a laptop on his lap, a lightweight shiny-new red Vaio Duo. He has a stylus with which he is shakily tapping at the touchscreen, though given he's currently facing the door his screen can't be seen from entering. His sleepily half-lidded eyes are fixed on the screen, though his mind is widely alert, filtering through the amalgam hospital-noises to pick up rather keenly on other minds in his presence. Wearing a comfortable black teeshirt, speckled a bit from having various poofs of spices getting around his work apron, with a visitor sticker planted on his right pectoral, and a pair of jeans that rested over plain white tennis shoes, Corey makes his way down the hospital hallway. "Lets see, I think the orderly had said it was just over there," he says to the shorter woman beside him as he glances at his cellphone with the text from Micah on it's screen. Stopping at the room number from his message, he knocks at the door frame hoping he got the right place. "Hello? Micah had asked us to stop by. I hope he had called you guys first?" though as he sees Hive, he relaxes slightly at least from the familiar face present. Kate may have been asleep when she was contacted to assist, but she manages to look surprisingly put together for having gotten ready in a hurry. Wearing a pair of dark denim leggings beneath a long sweater-tunic in a soft camel color, paired with dark brown mid-calf boots, the tops of thick emerald green knit socks scrunched just above the tops of the boots. Her dark hair is arranged into an artfully messy bun, keeping it out of her youthful, round face. Her visitors badge has been clipped to the front of her sweater, bouncing as she walks quickly to keep up with Corey's longer strides. "Eh, numbers are backwards from my hospital. I think it was this way, though," she mutters in agreement, sipping from the large cup of coffee she had picked up on her way to the hospital. She offers a gentle smile, more out of force of habit and professionalism than anything else, as she stops behind Corey in the doorway to the room. "Hi, I'm Kate," she starts to introduce herself, her mind swirling through a list of reassurances that this was okay, that these people were expecting a mutant healer, that she wouldn't get in trouble for this. "I'm a..." her voice trails off as she recognizes Hive, blinking for a few moments at the telepath, before nodding, remembering their brief meeting in the coffee shop, a mental flinch at the memory of the tumor and other difficulties. "Oh. Hello, Hive," she says, glancing then towards the bandaged figure in the bed, her diagnostic senses already giving her a vague analysis, "And, um, Flicker, yes?" Hive's eyes lift only sluggishly from his screen, fixing on Corey and Kate for a long exhausted moment with little trace of comprehension or recognition. It takes a moment before he shakes his head, and then contradictorily nods. "Hey -- hey. Yeah, um -- Micah -- said." His brow creases, hand lifting to pass his knuckles against his eyes. "I mean, thank you. Both. For -- thanks." Slowly he closes the lid of his laptop, slouching deeper in his seat but then struggling up to his feet. "Sorry -- chair. Right. Um." There are only two guest chairs in the room; he is slow to move to pull the second one closer, offering both to Corey and Kate with a wave of his hand. Flicker notes the new arrivals only belatedly, pulling off his headphones at some unheard mental prompting. His smile is quick and bright, face turning -- vaguely in the general direction of Corey and Kate. "Hey. Hi. Yeah, I'm Flicker. I -- thank you. Hive said -- Micah said -- well, thank you both. It's been kind of a crazy week or so." "No, you please sit. You probably need it more than me, and Kate can have the other. I'm good on my feet, really." Corey does seem fairly energetic after his shift, the scent of coffee and cinamon coming off him perhaps a part of it. "I'm sorry about not coming sooner. If I'd known..." Corey glances to Kate, and there is a feeling of guilt, and images of him sitting next to a jim tree going through his mind. "Well, either way. We're here now, and hopefully we can help. Well, her more than me." His mind has uncertainty, wishing that Felix had stuck around, and wishing his own gifts were faster. None the less his aura filled the room with life force, just there for the absorption. "No, no need to stand, it's okay," Kate reassures with concern on her mind and in her voice, shaking her head, "I can sit on the floor if needed, or," she glanes at Corey and nods, "Well, that works too, yeah." She moves to help drag the other chair over, talking as she does, smiling reassuringly, even though Flicker can't see her, "I should be able to help you get out of here faster. Might take more than one sitting, but we'll know more once we get started." Images filter through her mind of Jax, an almost time-lapse montage of healing from a similarly bandaged state. Taking the seat when offered, Kate offers another practiced, reassuring smile, her voice even and her thoughts centered, a run down of her abilities running through her mind as she talks, "Hello Flicker. I'm Kate. My mutation lets me diagnose and heal injuries and physical trauma. I will need to be in skin to skin contact with you - usually just touching your hand. Once the healing starts, you might feel a little woozy, and will probably be a bit tired at the end of it. But I'll have an estimate of how much I will be able to help, and how long it will take to get you back to normal." Her tone is even, careful as she explains her powers in a disclaimer, a slightly irrational fear of being slapped with a medical malpractice suit surfacing in her mind. She pauses, a flicker of surprise and guilt in her mind, at a side by side image of Jax from the media, colorfully covered in tattoos, and the more recent version, lacking the tattoo work. At that thought, she adds, "Ah, the healing process also appears to reverse or remove scars and some previous body modification, such as tattoos, in some instances. With all of this in mind, do I have your consent to attempt to use my mutation on you?" Hive doesn't protest Corey's offer to stand, nor Kate's help with the chair, accepting both and just sinking grateful and relieved back into his chair. His eyes widen at the mental image of Jimtree, and up against Corey's mind there's a gentle but noticeable mental pressure, soft mental fingers /pushing/ at this image in almost desperately hungry inquisitiveness. << -- is it helping is -- how is he, >> whispered into Corey's mind might be vague but for the soft mental suggestion behind it clarifying who he means. Flicker smiles at Kate again. "Oh. Much to Jax's chagrin I'm totally un -- modded. His ink's beautiful but my church doesn't really -- love it on us." He turns up a hand; there's bandaging on much of it but his thumb is free, as are parts of his arm as he lays his hand on the sheets nearer Kate. To her diagnostic sense it's clear that there's just -- /very/ extensive burning covering most of his body; along his chest and the fronts of his legs it is less severe second-degree burns but there are full-thickness burns seared deep and ugly down his back, his arms, the backs of his legs. There's burning on his face, too, damage done to his currently-blind eyes rather more critical than that on his skin. Internally, at least, he seems fine, the week+ since the event and vampire-blood he's been drinking having cleared up the smoke damage to his lungs and /started/ his burns on the slow process to healing. "And I can handle woozy they've had me on some pretty intense drugs a lot of the time. Are -- /you're/ going to be okay, right?" Wincing at the mental pressure, Corey decides resistance just leads to pain and his mind folds open inward like a blossoming lotus. << Hard to tell. Leaves grow, buds come, but the core will take time to recover, >> his mind puts to words as it shows the damaged tree with new growing crown. Birds hop along the little bits added onto the crown eating tiny bugs. << I have no clue how long it will take. I've seen small plants come back from wilted in an hour, but wood is slower than soft cells. >> There is a touch of an old biology lesson playing through his mind as it goes over cell walls and starches, at least till his mind banishes the image. Looking to Kate and Flicker, there is a touch of envy and awe at her gifts. "The woozy might be put off a little longer with me here at least. You had said it had worked a lot longer right?" Corey says to Kate as he settles in against the wall. "She works miracles, I saw her literally regrowing flesh. I'm just kinda long term stuff. People heal a bit better, like a broken arm was only a few weeks to be back to normal," he says in explanation. "Sorry if I don't go through a legal document of asking permission, but I can't really turn it off to begin with," he says with amusement. "I just... like to explain. It's a sort of learned habit from work," Kate offers with an apologetic shrug, "Not that I get to do this openly at work. But more mundane healing still tends to warrant explanation." Kate nods at the consent, and gently touches Flicker's exposed thumb with several fingers, her eyes slipping closed as she concentrates. Taking a deep breath and evaluating the damage, her mind swirls with medical diagrams, and charts, each filling in with more detailed information over time, like a topographical map of Flicker's burned and damaged body. Associations whisper quietly through her mind, burn treatments, processes, and healing estimates, assessing what has been done and what is being done currently. There is a soft glow, a mental tingling that represents Corey's power adding a slow but steady healing of every system, even those not damaged by the explosion - a nice counter point to Kate's own more focused healing. The initial touch is likely a little tingly, a touch of cooling and numbing sensations very, very slowly spreading out along his arm from as skin begins to re-grow and smooth beneath the bandages, perhaps a little tingly and itchy due to the slow rate. Kate takes a quiet breath, her brow furrowing at the damage to Flicker's face, the analysis of his eyes catching her off guard, "Oh. Hm. I should be able to help. I /think/ I can get you seeing again today. Might be a little blurry, but we can work from there in another session? This might... feel a little odd at first. But then it usually evens out to a numbness." The question about if she will be okay earns a soft smile, her eyes still closed, an acute awareness of her own current health and Corey's bolstering effect on her is a constant undercurrent brought to the surface, "I should be fine, thanks. Corey is a major help. He smooths out the fatigue quite a great deal for both me and who I'm working with. And the fact that his, ah, aura is far more general means everything heals, while I have to just focus on one major system at a time." There's a pleased blush that rises to her cheeks at the comment about working miracles. The blossoming-open of Corey's mind prompts a deeper swell of mental /touch/, a strange feeling like so many tendril-cords wrapping around Corey's mind, slipping in and binding tight. It comes with a rush of /feeling/ transmitted from Hive, a deep clenching worry for Jim wrapped up in a heavy sense of guilt, a tired but grateful appreciation for Corey's help, a fervent sort of prayer that it will be enough to encourage his friend back towards life. Beneath all of Hive's clearer feelings there's a muddled swirling-mix of /other/ feelings -- other voices murmuring in chorus. Their sound subsides into a vague background hum as the mental pressure eases, leaving behind only the other voices to settle in and make themselves at /home/ quietly in the background of Corey's mind. "Saw what you brought Jax back from," Hive agrees aloud. "That /was/ a fucking miracle, boy was a goner." The analysis of Flicker going through Kate's mind earns /her/ a flutter of mental touch, barely even conscious, just a faint quiet blanket-drape of pressure that drinks in the diagnostics with curiosity. "Jesus," Hive mutters, softly; in Corey's mind there's an almost tangible throb of guilt that shocks through Hive, a sick sinking feeling that /he/ did this to Flicker (and has done, many times before. And will do again, many times in future.) "Thank you," is what Flicker says quietly again, his smile easing small and relaxed as the tingle of Kate working begins. "That -- feels a lot better than the /burns/ do, really." And then: "So you're a nurse by actual work, too?" And /then/, contrite: "Apologies, should I be -- quiet? Not-distracting?" << That feels weird >> comes back a thought from Corey, like an itchy brain. "He seems to be doing well last I saw him. Though, must have more lives than a cat." Shaking his head, he watches Kate work curious what is happening with Flicker's recovery. "Were you close to the blast? Or is that something you wouldn't want to relive. I mean, sometimes you just want to forget and all." There is an uncertainty, and a bit of concern that he's said the wrong thing. Looking to Hive though with the guilt feelings, his own guilt at not being here sooner comes up. "Were there any others in similar conditions? I mean Micah hadn't said too much. And Jayna and Hanna didn't really say too much on what happened that night." Kate doesn't fight against the curious pressure, distracted as she is by her work, offering in quiet reassurance, "I can work with this. It'll be alright. It might take a day or two, but between Corey and I, and whatever, uh, whatever else has been helping, should have you out of the hospital soon enough." Kate falls quiet and listens idly to the conversations around her, fousing as she is on Flicker's eyes - this manifests in her mind as more detailed diagrams of eyes and their function, shaded and annotated to represent the damage. The damage seems to be lessening a little at a time, gradually fading and slowly being erased entirely. The sensation of cooling and regrowing skin has ceased on the hand, and is now concentrated around the eyes and face, tissue regrowing and reforming beneath the bandages. The question from Flicker gets another chuckle, slightly more woozy as she concentrates, "No, you don't need to be quiet. Just apologies if I take a bit to answer." She takes a deep breath and nods, trying to fight off some of the creeping dizziness encroaching on her thoughts, "Yes, I actually work as an ER nurse. For now, at least. Don't know how long they'll keep me around after my card comes in." "Oh, thank fucking god." Hive's initial /rush/ of relief at Kate's reassurance can be felt clear in Corey's mind -- and soon enough in Kate's, the squeezing mental pressure pushing in to quietly fade away and leave behind it that same background-murmur of myriad OtherVoices, in which Hive's own stressed-worried-guilty feelings are currently rising to the forefront. "Oh man, you too?" Flicker winces at the mention of the card. "I didn't really want to register but with Hive sick /someone/ in our house had to be able to do -- legal stuff, you know? I don't know what it's going to mean for school. Guess we'll see." Flicker closes his eyes with a small shiver, a slight shake of his head to assure Corey the question is fine. "Our apartment was just above where the explosion happened." Corey's question about the explosion comes with a rather /vivid/ answer, not spoken but inadvertently shared in mental imagery -- the cheerful-warm relaxation of preparing for Game Night suddenly torn into by flames, rubble, the wall and floor tearing away. The smell of blood and searing flesh. Smoke -- and more smoke, and more smoke; the mental imagery /changes/ in rapid-fast shifting from inside to outside to inside to outside with each successive teleport-leap back /into/ the fire over and over (and over and over) to pull more people out of it, the burns getting worse and worse with each re-entry to search for more survivors. The memories, oddly, /don't/ feel odd -- not like an /intrusion/ shoved into their minds from outside but simply like they were actually /there/ and are rememebering it themselves. "There's a few more people still left -- in a couple different hospitals. Dusk has a -- fff. He's got a fucking -- list," Hive says with a small frown. "If you want to know who's still worst off." "I registered, since well, I had told the doctor who ran my blood tests that I would if it happened. Truth and all," Corey says as the image of Iolaus passes through his mind. At the imagery passing into his head, he winces as his brain remembers these things all at once. "I... wow. That's weird, is that you?" He glances over to Hive questioningly as he taps his head. There's an image of a book passing through his mind with passages about releasing the ego and joining the oneness of the world before shaking it off. "And if they need some help, I don't mind. But I don't think its wise to just show up without introductions. Also it's up to Kate really, most people don't want a big oaf just sitting there in the corner reading until they get better." Kate smiles brightly at the sense of relief, a feeling of pride at being able to actually help, though there is a confusion at the sudden murmur of voices, uncertain of what to make of the new presence. There's even a wonder if she is finally losing her mind. Again. This seems to have become an increasingly common thought since moving to New York. "Wish I didn't have to, either. Can't afford not to. Work wants it for documentation same as a driver's license," Kate says with a sigh, her eyes opening at last to look around, just in case there was a small choir of tiny children who had come in while her eyes were closed, resulting in the chorus of voices. She still focuses on returning Flicker's eyesight, more of the damage on her mental markers fading, more of the flesh rebuilding. But then these seem to swirl and quaver with a confused distraction at the shared memory from Flicker. "Oh, wow. Is that..." Kate concentrates, though the healing slows a bit as her mind interprets the additional information, before continuing. << Sorry. >> Kate apologizes mentally, wobbling in her chair, though the focus on healing still continues. "I'd be willing to help others. Just as long as they're okay with mutant intervention?" She pauses, eyes closing again as she concentrates, "Ok. I /think/ you might have some eyesight returning now. It might be a bit bright and a bit blurry still. There's a little more additional damage. Eyes are complicated." Mentally, she shares an outline diagram of eyes - taken from a medical illustration textbook, it would seem, shaded in gradients to represent where the remaining damage is, with green added to highlight what has been repaired on this session, "Still can go for a little longer, at least. How're you doing?" "It's -- us," Hive answers Corey with some small measure of hesitant confusion as though he's not quite exactly sure himself. "It was a -- hectic day. And not -- all the other people still hurt are mutants, I'd have to ask Dusk how cool they are with --" He waves a shaking hand towards Corey and Kate both. "Apologies," Flicker murmurs softly, when Kate wobbles. "I didn't mean to think so loud. It was a /loud/ kind of day." Another shiver runs through him, and though externally he is all soft-calm voice and soft-calm smile, internally there's a leaking twisting-sick clench of horror-panic at the memories. The flames and screams and smoke and searing flesh and jumping back into it over and over again. "I'm --" He draws in a slow breath, nodding with a small smile. He lifts his free hands to touch slowly at the patch-bandages over his eyes, tentatively peeling one back and then flinching at the blurry brightness that floods in. He smiles, though, a sudden rush of relief flooding the others' minds. "Oh. Oh, thank goodness." As Corey's mind settles into being used to it, his neurochemical levels balance out restoring his perpetual mellow, at least until the flames and screams pop up again. "Maybe think of puppies and kittens?" He rubs the side of his head a moment, and shakes it. "It's up to them really. I mean, it would be kinda crazy to turn it down, but then the city isn't that much in the state of sanity of late." He leans against the wall, trying to blank out his thoughts at least not to add more distraction to the others. "This is kinda distracting." Kate's expression dims for a moment when the flames and screams and smoke return in the shared memories. "Sssh," she says reassuringly, gently squeezing Flicker's now freshly healed hand, "You saved a lot of people that evening. You did a lot of good for a lot of people. But now you need to focus on the present, on healing and getting better, okay?" There are memories with these words, of other people she has said similar things to, fire fighters, paramedics, cops. Kate takes a deep breath and working through the fatigue creeping into the edge of her mind, her mutation working on instinct, though Flicker's reaction earns a tired smile, "Good. It'll clear up more over time - I'm not entirely done..." her voice is lost in concentration, though the thought is finished mentally << It's a start, at least. >> The hand holding on to Flicker's hand is starting to tremble as she furrows her brow in concentration, starting to slump slightly in her chair. Kate sighs << I think I may need to stop for now. Sorry. I think I might pass out if I do much more. Underestimated complexity. But definately a start. Should... be able to finish tomorrow. Maybe another day after that for the surface burns. >> << Apologies -- >> It's hard to tell, this time, exactly /who/ the apology comes from; it rises in a quiet murmur of conjoined voices and then fades into background. Hive slumps further in his chair, eyes closing as he feels Kate's fatigue. "Thank you," he says aloud. "That -- you're -- thank you. Um. Can I get you -- shit." He glances around the hospital room. "We have a crapton of ginger ale and, uh, crackers. That's -- about it." He looks apologetic, at this. "Otherwise I'd offer you -- food." Flicker's lips twitch back into a smile at the mention of puppies and kittens, but it's a sleepy-drowsy sort of one. "Yes. Thank you. More than I can say. You don't need to apologize, you're already doing so much." "S'alright. I've learned to roll with what comes. At least I'm not glowing or anything," Corey smiles outwardly, though the image of Selene and her henchman peek up, quickly fading to the world glowing around him. "She may just need a nap. I can take her home, I doubt she really wants to have to take sleep shifts in a hospital she doesn't work at," he says with a bit of fondness. "Are you two going to be alright? You weren't looking too good yourself when we got in," with a glance to Hive. << So many sick, so many hurt. >> "S'ok," Kate manages, finally letting go of Flicker's hand, the diagnostic analysis fading from her mind back to a generic sense of health status. She sinks down into her chair, eyes barely open but fixed on Hive, for a moment, concern on her features << You still need help, too. >> Forcing herself to sit up, admittedly a bit wobbly, she scrubs at her face in an exhausted expression, "Nap. Food." She seems content at the idea of Corey taking her home. "But I'm glad I could help. Will be able to help more. We'll have you seeing clearly again, soon. Hive can send me an e-mail tonight or tomorrow to set up another time." She snorts and looks towards Corey, smirking, "Yeah, not doing that. They frown on that." << Should go, probably. Likely. Or something. I think I stopped making sense a while back. >> Kate muses, vaguely apologetic in her mental tone. << S'not still bothering you, is she? >> There's a reflexive bristling protectiveness in Hive's words to Corey at the mental image of Selene. He offers the others a quick smile, a little wan, a little tired. "We'll be fine," he assures Corey. "Better now than before you guys came." He pushes out of his chair, though it's only to reach up and tuck the bedsheets a little bit more snugly around Flicker. "Thank you, again. I'll -- if you really don't mind. I'll ping you tonight about when's good for you. Just -- take care, okay?" << I'm fine. Haven't been bothered yet. Might be the glow? >> Corey shakes his head but lets out a mental sigh. "Alright then, you guys rest and I'll make sure she gets some food and rest in her. And then I'll probably make a trip to the boarding school to tree sit." A mental check list goes through his head at that, adding to the list a stop home to pick up study materials, and picking up mexican food somewhere in between. "Have a good rest to recover. Don't forget to eat plenty."