Shelby was sweating in the lab. He'd turned up the heat in the room, out of the chance that it would speed up the reactions on the slides in front of him. He'd already determined that as long as he didn't directly inject the stuff into his veins, it would be difficult for him to be infected.
Two hours later, Moran watched as the surgeon finished wrapping the last of the bulky bandages around his finger, which kept it completely immobile. He listened carefully, for once, to the aftercare instructions. That finger was his life. He needed it back.
He thanked the staff quietly as he stood, earning a wave of confused, fearful glances, but didn't bother explaining, just walked out into the hall. He felt sick, weak, and his arm was still numb, but he knew he shouldn't- couldn't - delay this further. He raised his right hand, caught himself just in time, and lowered it again, knocking with his left hand on Jim's door.
"Come in," Jim said, just short of weakly. Moran's surgery was done with, then.
He opened the door awkwardly, stepping inside and shutting it behind him. He took a moment to evaluate the man on the bed.
Fuck. We need to fix this.
Then he walked over quietly. "You said you wanted to speak to me after I'd received medical attention, sir."
Jim snorted, looking over the man. "I did. I want to know why the hell you picked a fight with Armetti. Of all the people here, he was the third most loyal, because of how he moons over Harrison. And now you've lost the use of your most important finger, and he'll have to use a cane for the rest of his life. What. The fuck."
He grit his teeth, and took a slow breath, trying to decide how best to answer. Finally he settled on "I became emotional, sir. It negatively impacted my judgement. I apologize."
Jim let out a short laugh, rubbing his eyes. "At least you're fucking honest, I suppose," he snorted, shaking his head. "Normally, I'd threaten you with punishment similar to what just happened to you, but I'm stuck in this infernal bed and you've had a big enough loss that you'll suffer without my aid."
He swallowed back the urge to say something sarcastic, and just nodded a little. "Shelby is working on figuring out a cure as we speak, sir," he said, shifting the subject. "With any luck, you'll be back to normal in a few days."
"Shelby sent me an update while you were in surgery. He said he thinks he's close. He's managed temporary paralyzation of the parasite. Once he can get it to stick, it will be easy to flush out," Jim informed him. The subject change hadn't been well done.
He nodded a little, then took a slow breath. "Sir... You need to hire a replacement bodyguard," he said finally, stiffly. "I can function administratively, but at least for the time being I am incapable of defending you to an acceptable capacity."
"What's Armetti's second's name? Wilkins or something? If you approve her, I'll take her," he said, his tone much less happy than it had been a minute ago.
He nodded just slightly, feeling completely vile. "She's capable, sir. I'll inform her of the change. Will that be all?"
"Yeah, that will be all," Jim replied just short of snide, flicking his hand dismissively. He'd already been mad. Now?
He walked out of the room, and closed the door softly. Then, with equal silence, he made his way to Lorna's room, closing the door behind him and sitting beside her bed. He didn't know what to feel. He was exhausted, in pain, furious... But underneath all of that was something he hadn't felt in a long time- if he had ever felt it.
He felt defeated.
Shelby came into Harrison's room 24 hours later, triumphant. "I have medication that should work," he said, without waiting for anything.
Moran looked up from where he'd been dozing in his chair, and it took him a moment to process what he'd said. "Are there risks?"
"For once, no," he said, grinning. "I've had plenty of her blood to test it with. Her blood reacts normally with it. If for some reason the medication doesn't work, which it should, no harm done."
"Do it," he said immediately, sitting forward, head swimming a little with the sudden movement, an effect of the painkillers they'd put him on. "Now."
He nodded, stepping forward to the IV and finding the valve to plug the solution in, and did so with satisfaction.
He watched quietly, waiting for a change with baited breath. "How long should it take to see a change, do you think?" he asked quietly.
"Considering she's in a coma, it's hard to say. We'll monitor the number of parasites in her blood as time passes, but I wouldn't expect her to wake up for at least 12 hours, and that's a generous estimate."
He sat back slowly, disappointed, but nodded. "And the soonest that we'll know if it was effective?" he pressed tiredly.
"Three to six hours, most likely," he replied, slipping his hands into his coat pockets.
He nodded just a little, eyes on the thin, pale woman in the bed. "Any word on whether Moriarty has the same parasite?"
"It's definitely similar; I have someone trying to figure out right now if they're exactly the same. If they're not, we'll need to try and keep on our toes." Shelby kept all thoughts on the relationship between the two other people in the room stuffed in a back drawer in his mind.
He nodded just slightly, and then stood. "I need to go deal with the network. Let me know the instant you know anything more."
"Of course," Shelby nodded, and let the ex-sniper exit the room before he followed, and went his own way.