Ok, so I had a little time spared and used it to write the next chapter of Fence Talks.I am updating rather quickly this time but well, do NOT get used to that. Lol. This was rather an exeption. :) Anyway, hope you will enjoy reading.
Huge thanks to georgiaclaire, who did the marvelous betta and who was so willing to do the corrections at all and this quickly. She is the one you guys should be thanking. I sure as hell, am. Thank you, Georgia. :)
CHapter14 - First, do no harm
Sara pushed the door open to let the two men carring a half-conscious Michael rush into the single bedroom on the ground floor of the safe house. His breathing was heavily labored but shallow still, and when Lincoln and Sam lowered him onto the bed he was barely moving.
"Get me that medical bag!" commanded Sara to Jane while already heading to the bathroom in order to wash her hands.
From the next room, she could hear LJ's panicked voice. "Dad, what's wrong with Uncle Mike?"
While only half listening to the rushed conversation from the next room, Sara rolled up her sleeves and furiously scrubbed her arms up to her elbows. She only vaguely noticed the sharp pain with which the damaged skin of her arms protested the rough treatment.
Returning to the bedroom again, Sara was pleased to find a large medical bag already sitting on the nightstand. Jane was not present, the small space already too crowded with the presence of four people. Michael was sprawled on the bed, once again mumbling and stirring in obvious discomfort, and Sara didn't waste any time in snatching the bag open, withdrawing a pair of protective gloves and scissors. She handed the latter to Lincoln. "Here. Cut down his jeans, but be careful to touch as little flesh as possible."
Without giving Lincoln another glance, she searched through the bag further, sorting and cataloguing the contents. Confused with not finding what she was looking for, she hastily went through the contents once again. Behind her, Michael was softly crying out in pain when Lincoln clumsily cut through the dirty denim fabric covering his upper thigh.
''So sorry Mike." mumbled Lincoln over and over, although it was clear that the patient didn't recognize the people present, nor his surroundings. LJ stood frozen in place, shocked momentarily still at the sight of his sick uncle. It was only Sara's loud cursing that brought him from his reverie.
"What the hell is THIS?!" She snapped disbelievingly, rummaging through the contents of the medical bag furiously. Two IVs were already resting at the edge of the bed, along with strips of gauze and bandages. Yet obviously, something was missing. "There are no syringes or needles or fucking anesthetics here!" She cried in outrage. But before she could call out for Jane, she heard a loud 'Fuck!' coming from Lincoln. First she thought something was wrong with Michael. But when her head turned around, she saw Lincoln glancing directly at her, his expression of shock and sudden horrid realization.
"What?" snapped Sara impatiently, then followed Lincoln's gaze from her to the medical bag and back. With a sinking feeling, she started to get the idea, but she wouldn't believe it until she truly heard him confess he was capable of doing something that stupid.
"I got rid of the needles and morphine when we first arrived here and Jane showed me the bag. I though..." He trailed off, unable to look at her.
He had to be KIDDING her! This could not be happening."What the hell do you mean by 'you got rid of them'?" Shell-shocked, she stared at Lincoln in disbelief.
"I though it would be safer for you not have stuff like that lying around." He confessed and she felt like somebody just punched her in the gut with an iron fist. Next to Lincoln, LJ raised his hands to the head in panic, his fists grabbing his hair. "You can't be serious, dad! Uncle Mike needs them!"
Exactly. Sara felt a sudden urge of rage that only intensified at when a soft groan of pain escaped Michael's lips. "Why on earth didn't you tell me in the fucking car, Lincoln!?" she shouted, her expression livid. His face white, he could only reply softly. "I completely forgot about that, I was panicking about Michael."
She was speechless for a moment, then took a few deep breaths. There has to be a solution to this. "Where and how did you disposeof them?" She asked. "Are they still somewhere in the house?" Lincoln shook his head in denial. Perfect! Sara felt like strangling him. "LJ, go and fetch Jane." She ordered in the calmest voice possible, and the teenager left without any further question.
"Sara I..."
"Just shut up for now, will you?" She commanded again, though her voice had lost the great force it held only seconds ago. "I need to concentrate." She looked back at Michael, contemplating. Then she snatched a peace of paper from her backpack, starting to scribble on it feverishly. She was finished before LJ and Jane entered the room a moment later.
"Here." She showed the paper into Jane's hand who eyed the short list. "I need this within an hour. If you won't get it in that time, I am driving him to the hospital myself." Sara finished with no room for discussion, her eyes blazing.
It was unclear if LJ had already told Jane what had happened, but the blonde only nodded and put the piece of paper into her pocket. "I will do what I can." She cast a reproachful look at Lincoln. Obviously, LJ did tell her. Jane turned on her heel and left, already shooting commands at her men from the living area.
Sara turned to her patient again, the task lying ahead of her terrifying her now more than ever. They might be able to wait for the needles to arrive so she could connect him to the IV's, fluids and antibiotics, but they couldn't wait another hour for the infected wound to poison his body any further. Sara knew she needed to clean it right now, as soon as possible. Even knowing Michael's tolerance of pain to be higher than anyone else she had ever met, it would be sheer torture without any anesthetic. The pain and exhaustion of such which would only be adding more to his already overly weakened state.
She took a sharp intake of air, trying to steady her breathing and calm her nerves. "I'm going to need both of your help." Putting on her gloves, she shot a look at LJ. The young boy looked pale and frightened and suddenly, asking him for help didn't seem like such a good idea.
"You know what, LJ? Could you go and call one of Jane's men to come and help me?" She said kindly, knowing all too well that burdening the teenager with more traumatic experiences would bring no good for anyone. However, when she met his glance, he looked determined. "I can do it."
She hesitated. "It's going to be nasty and I am about to cause your uncle a lot of pain. I'm not sure you want to watch that." She said earnestly.
"I can do it." He repeated confidently and Sara's admiration for him grew.
"Ok." She said at last. She took out a scalpel and a handful of gauze strips from the medical bag while ordering Lincoln to bring a clean towel. Preparing the antiseptic and some other necessary intruments, she gestured LJ to come closer. "I need you to hold down your uncle's legs and under no circumstances let them go. He will probably kick and toss on instict when I'm cleaning his wound." LJ nodded.
Lincoln returned with a clean piece of thick cloth and following Sara's directions, slipped it under the infected leg. Michael stirred anew in discomfort, his face bathed in sweat. Sara instructed Lincoln to grab his brother's arms and torso, again asking him to hold him down while she would be cleaning up the wound.
She stepped over his body at last, her eyes for the first time fully studying the swollen bump on his leg. Pus and blood were all mixed up under the strained, almost transparent skin, and all of a sudden, Sara was not confident if she could do it. Confident or not, she had no choice.
She looked at his face, still contorted in pain and fever, feeling a strong urge to caress his cheek; kiss his pain away. "Michael, it's Sara. I am going to cut and clean your leg wound now. It will be painfull but it needs to be done, ok?" She said to him, although she highly doubted he could hear her, furthermore understand what she was saying. She tried anyway. "I will make a small incision to your leg to make a path for the pus to flow freely out." The explanation, she now realized, was directed more to her companions and herself than Michael. She had to somehow guide herself through this one alone.
She sprayed the flesh with an antiseptic and brought her slightly trembling hand to the wound, letting the scalpel hover over the place she was about the cut open.
First, do no harm.
She gulped and finally seized Michael's leg with one hand, bringing the scalpel down in the other to cutt his flesh open.
At first, it seemed Michael didn't even notice. She knew the cut wasn't a problem itself, but to squeeze out the infectious liquid would be the most painful part of this procedure. Michael's brow furrowed and he gave a little whimper, but otherwise he was still.
The pus started to flow right from the incision with almost violent force, the pressure of the swollen skin easing ever so slightly. A repulsive smell of decomposition filled the room and Sara almost gagged, but gathered all the self restraint she possesed. She took two square strips of gauze and started to gently dab at Michael's skin, wiping the dark yellow liquid from his flesh to get a better look of the now open wound. There was still lot of secretion left and Michael was already becoming restless, with even the gentlest of touches causing him to stir in pain and discomfort.
Sara didn't want to prolong the inevitable any longer. She pushed at both sides of the incision hard, squeezing the poisonous liquid out of the wound as best as she could. As expected, her action didn't remain without a reaction. Michael cried out in pain, his feverish eyes snapping open, his delusional mind trying to rid himself of the source of his pain. Sara saw that Lincoln and LJ had to use all their strength to keep Michael pinned against the bed while his cries of pain filled her head and tore at her heart, but she didn't stop. She pushed harder, forcing the stinking liquid and contaminated blood to flow faster, her sight momentarily blurring when her eyes filled with heavy tears. She quickly squeezed her eyes shut, willing them away. Instead, she grasped another bunch of gauze strips, using them to wipe and clean the wound and his skin as best and fast as she could.
From the corner of her eye, she could see Lincoln's posture crumbling and heard LJ gasping hard for air, but to their credit, neither of them wavered nor let go. She felt very sick herself, her mind unable to suppress the thought of the amount of pain Michael must have been in during the past few days, and now the pain she was inflicting upon him herself.
Michael's exhausting screams, so audible in the small room, slowly died down into a feverish delusional whimper for them to stop and God help her, she almost acquiesced to his faint begging for mercy. She could feel the despair rise in her chest, felt her stomach heave in protest at what she was doing, but she never stopped nor wavered in her proceedings.
Finally, she seemed to have cleaned the wound properly enough to start applying the antiseptic. Michael had quietened down, although Sara was unsure it was related to receding pain, but rather due to his exhaustion. She bit her bottom lip in order to stop it from trembling. They were almost there.
She started to cover the now clean wound with dressings soaked in antiseptic cream before carefully bandaging his whole upper leg. She could feel LJ and Lincoln's grip on Michael lessen. Both were panting, their faces ashen. Michael seemed to have fallen asleep, all the remaining strengh having left his body moments ago. Sara was more than glad for his sake.
She stood up and quickly started to collect the dirtied cloths and gauze strips and dressings, disposing of everything reminding her of the procedure she had just been forced to do. Only vaguely did she register LJ exiting the bedroom, the sounds of throwing up echoing through the house. She wasn't far from vomitting herself.
She snatched the gloves down from her hands, tossing them into the rubbish container along with the rest of the waste. It was only then she noticed her whole body shaking, small streams of cold sweat running down her face and spine.
She glanced at her watch. 30 minutes since Jane had left. Sara prayed she would be back soon enough. Michael needed those IVs and antibiotics more than anything, his body still seriously poisoned and weakened.
She looked into Michael's resting face. His brow was still furrowed, his expression one of residual pain and discomfort. She bent over and caressed the sweat away from his brow with her thumb. Her moving hand rested on his cheek at last, Sara not minding Lincoln's remaining presence in the room.
"Could you please bring me a bottle of water and a bowl of cool but not cold water? And a clean towel or cloth if you find one." Sara didn't even raise her eyes from Michael's face while talking. She was still too angry at Lincoln for the fiasco with the medical kit, but this was not the time or place to exchange harsh words. She felt a slight breeze of air when he exited the room and glanced at her watch again. Pressing the back of her hand to Michael's forehead, she grimaced in concern at his burning skin. Looking at her own bare forearms, sleeves being rolled up before the procedure, Sara only then remembered her own burned skin being exposed. Pulling the sleeves of her shirt down in a rush, she hid the burned skin still covered in tiny blisters.
She looked at Michael once again, wanting nothing more than to be able to lie down next to him and sleep for months. All the weariness of the previous days and nights came rushing back to her with a violent force and she had to grip the nightstand as her head momentarily spun.
She heard the door open again behind her, Lincoln entering with a bowl in his hand and a bottle under his arm. He handed both of them to Sara who gave him a small smile of gratitude.
"I called Jane. They are on their way. Should be back in less than 15 minutes." he announced quietly and Sara let out a deep breath she didn't know she was holding.
"Listen Sara, uhm, I..." Lincoln started anew but she silenced him by raising her hand resolutely. "Not now." It was not unfriendly, but still a rather cool proclamation and Lincoln understood the message for what it was, a dismissal. He directed his attention to his brother instead. "Is he going to be ok?"
"If Jane has everything I asked for and will be here on time, I hope so." She uttered quietly, absentmindedly stroking Michael's cheek, drawing soothing circles with her thumb. "Maybe you should go check up on your son, see if he is okay." Sara said, reminding Lincoln of LJ's unceremonious exit from the scene.
"Yeah. Are you going to be ok? What I mean is, is there anything else I can help you with?" He added hastily.
"No." She replied, her eyes never leaving Michael's face. "We are going to be fine."
Having asked Lincoln to send Jane straight to her when she returned, Lincoln began to leave the room in search for his son. In the door however, he stopped and turned back to Sara.
"Hey, Sara?"
"Yeah?" She turned her head in his direction at last.
"You did great today." He said and without waiting for an answer left the room. She turned to Michael again, whispering to his still form. "God, I hope I did."
She grasped the bottle of water and took a few deep gulps, trying to control her breathing in order to bring her pulse to a normal pace again. She contemplated for the shortest of moments trying to wake Michael and make him drink some water too, but then decided otherwise. He was probably not in the state for that right now and sleep would do him well. Jane should be back any minute now and then he would get all the fluids he needed intravenously anyway.
Sara put the bottle on the nightstand and took the wet cloth from the bowl, starting to clean, as well as to cool, Michael's scalp, face and neck. He looked more fragile than she had ever seen him before, the bruising and black eye he had a few days ago already changing their color into a lighter shade of yellow and green. She looked down his shirted torso and dragged the covers up over his bare legs. He had lost a lot of weight, and there were dark circles under his lids, his eyes almost disappearing in the hollow of their sockets. God, the universe had a strange sense of irony. This was exactly what she wished so desperately for this very night, having him in her bed, half naked. But this wasn't what she had in mind.
She tried to pull his shirt up, but then changed her mind. Taking the scissors, she cut it into pieces right there on his body, finally collecting the dirty shreds of cloth and tossing them away. Her movements never as much as caused him stir. She wiped his burning torso with the cool cloth, trying to clean as much dirt and grime as possible while all the same not disturbing him. The remaining bruising from the recent beating was even more evident on his chest than it was on his face, the patterns of the dark ink almost unrecognizable on the blue and purple skin. She squeezed her eyes shut then averted her gaze, tossing the disgusting remains of his shirt to the heap of shreded jeans on the floor. Collecting all remains of Sona that had been on him - excluding his boxers – from where they were lying on the floor, she tossed them in the trash.
Returning to her task of cleaning him up, she kept the covers firmly wrapped around his hips just at the border of his navel. Though they might be a pair - of sorts - she still respected his right to privacy, knowing all too well its enormous value from having it not granted to her in the past days. When she wiped his wrist and then his hand, cleaning his fingers gently, she felt them instinctively curl around her own. His grip was stronger than she would expect and more welcome than she would ever dream. She squeezed back softly, bringing his knuckles to her lips to kiss them.
"You are going to be fine." Sara whispered. "We are going to be fine." She added with quiet determination.
TBC
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