Chapter 2: Diagnostic Ministrations

"John, can you hear me?" Helen leaned over his body, instinctively pressing her fingers against his neck. She adeptly found his pulse – it was racing. His skin was pale and clammy. Lifting his eyelid, she noted his blood shot eyes and dilated pupils.

Instinctively, she opened his characteristic duster, looking for any indication of a wound. There was no pool of blood. No ripped clothing. His face, neck and hands showed no bruising, cuts or other indication of a struggle. She placed her hand on his forehead; he was burning up.

Immediately, Helen became concerned for not only his safety but also those in her care. What if he had brought an infection to her Sanctuary? "John," she tapped his cheek gently, "can you hear me?"

His eyes opened widely as he gasped suddenly for air. "Helen?" His voice was hoarse and his eyes swam side to side as he tried to distinguish which face was actually hers.

"John," She stared into his eyes, her mind flooded with questions but only one of imminence, "what's going on?"

As he came around, she quickly reviewed what weapons were within easy access. John was not one to devise such an elaborate rouse, but he was also not always in control of himself. Over a year ago, they had proved that his killing nature was due to a malignant energy being that lived within him, but they had been unsuccessful in removing it.

"I apologize," he waivered as he attempted to sit up, "for dropping in on you like this." Helen instinctively placed a hand behind him in support. He reached up slowly and rubbed his forehead firmly with his hand.

"You have a fever and your heart is racing," she stated as a matter of fact. While he was clearly in danger he didn't seem to be in any state to cause physical harm to her or hers, however she refused to let her guard down while the fear of a bio threat still lingered.

"I didn't know where else to turn," he looked into her eyes with a timidity and fear she had never seen before in their depths. "I am myself, but…" He turned his head quickly, as if suddenly realizing his surroundings. "It could have followed me. Believe me when I say you need to activate the EM shield."

After notable hesitation, Magnus reached up to her desk and tapped in a string of commands into her laptop. The image on the screen showed a red and green circle that expanded over a blue print image of the sanctuary as she activated the perimeter of the building. While she wasn't fully trusting of Druitt, this would also prevent his movement throughout the Sanctuary and was probably good practice, regardless.

Noticing his unsteadiness as he attempted to stand, she assisted and led him to the sofa. As he sat down, he seemed more coherent. Helen poured a glass of water and offered it to him before sitting by his side. "Now John, tell me what is going on?" She reached for his right wrist to take his pulse again.

Sipping the water with his left hand, he turned to look at her. His fear subsided ever so slightly as he looked into her eyes. There was so much history, good and bad, contained therein. For a moment a surge of buried emotions attempted to surface but he swallowed hard and began to recount recent events. "I have been trying to destroy the beast inside of me," he stated almost calmly in his English accent.

His pulse had slowed slightly, but it was still over 180 beats per minute. She noted his hands were trembling and his face was devoid of color. "I believe we should continue this conversation in the infirmary?"

"Perhaps that would be best," he swayed slightly as he attempted to rise.

"Let me help you," she offered. While worried about what had happened and why he had come here, at the moment she was more concerned for his safety. As they made their way out of her office on foot, she grabbed a small pistol from under the end table by the door and slipped it deftly into the back of her pants - better safe than sorry.

As they entered a quarantined section of the infirmary, Helen steadied John. He leaned heavily on her, but the weight she felt wasn't just that of his body, but also of her buried guilt, a responsibility for all that had happened to him. While it seemed like lifetimes ago, she could recall the moment of source blood injection so clearly.

Carefully, she removed his coat and helped him onto the main observation bed. He melted into the mattress, his body aching in protest to their walk. "I don't deserve your kindness," he smiled weakly as she unbuttoned his shirt in order to hook him up to the equipment and start an EKG.

"You are correct," she managed, ever so slightly distracted by his chest, which was scarred with signs of electric shock and bruising. "But, I have a notorious weakness for hard luck cases."

Chuckling softly, he began coughing and Helen noticed his hand shake as he lifted it to his mouth. "What have you done to yourself?" she asked as she stroked his arm softly while she activated the machinery.

"It's gone…the beast is gone," he mumbled as he lost consciousness again.