A/N: The second chapter. It's one of those chapters that contain almost boringly much information (I hope not too boringly much), but are still necessary to drop certain hints to my dear readers (to you, that is). So a lot of those details here will be necessary at some point in the future, not (only) the obvious ones, though…
Last but not least:
This chapter is dedicated to a very special person, honorary plot-bunny-hunter and steady source of inspiration; the one and only Silver Winged Dragon.
Why this chapter? Because it revolves around the very subject that started our first conversation, the issue that sparked our friendship: medical knowledge (my lack of it, to be precise). Even though I have quite a lot of passive experience, a medical advisor always comes in handy… Thanks for being mine, sweetheart, and thanks for being such a great friend! (*hugs*)
~°oOo°oOo°oOo°~
As soon as he had stepped through the door, Genesis focussed on putting on an expression of indifference and relative coolness. It was only a matter of seconds, like pushing some sort of mental switch; and although that process took a lot of concentration and energy to maintain, he succeeded quite well. So neither the middle aged woman who asked him for his ID card nor the man in a white lab coat meeting him just minutes later would have realized any sign of nervousness.
Still, Genesis felt extremely anxious when he followed the man in white through the hallways and into a smaller room. During his last visit to the medical department, one of the doctors there had confronted him with the news that the scientists involved in his 'case' insisted on a 'minor Mako-update-treatment', something Genesis had found quite strange and somehow upsetting, especially since his immediate questions in this regard had not been answered satisfyingly.
That was at the same time one of several reasons why he hadn't mentioned the true purpose of this appointment to Angeal. Although Genesis felt quite bad already for keeping that information from the only person he trusted with virtually everything else, he just did not want the other to get worried. Not again. Angeal had been through enough trouble recently, ever since that stupid accident, to be precise, and Genesis still felt guilty for causing him so many sleepless nights.
In addition, he had not wanted to talk about any details in order not to remind himself, because he knew that this kind of treatment was usually done by injections, a thought he had tried to exclude from his mind as long as possible. Hating anything having to do with medical treatment or clinical surroundings with a fierceness of heart since his childhood, injections were yet another level, as evidently as the difference between hate or dislike and sheer panic. For as long as he could remember, he had been genuinely frightened by the thought of needles alone, something he had kept well hidden over the years and never admitted openly to anyone, except Angeal of course. Being friends for such a long time, there were hardly any secrets the two of them hadn't shared. And during the last weeks, they had started to share even more. Genesis sighed silently, recalling the situation just minutes ago. At least this was something to hold on to.
Trying to keep his thoughts on the right track, he lay down as told, removed his right sleeve and fought the feeling of nausea that instantly started down in his stomach. Contrary to him, the scientist seemed to be the personification of calmness and routine. With only a few fast movements, underlining the fact that he was not doing this for the first time, he fastened the two leather straps to keep his patient's arm in place. Noticing Genesis slightly disapproving look, he added: "Don't worry; this is not a measure of restraint. It's for safety reasons only."
With a polite smile, and the queasy feeling that this was the verbal equivalent to singing in a dark cellar in order to keep upcoming panic at bay, Genesis returned: "Is that necessary if I promise not to beat you up for hitting me with a needle?"
"I'm talking about your safety, not mine," the man in white returned in a standard no-nonsense tone that made him sound years older than he actually was. "The injection has to be done intravenously and rather slowly, over approximately 30 minutes. One involuntary movement or something like that, and you might hurt yourself."
After a few minutes of silence, he bothered to explain: "And in case you wonder why we are not doing this via infusion, but actually 'by hand': it is a lot more complicated than it seems, the whole process has to be adapted to the individual person and of course to be monitored constantly."
Following these words, he placed a tourniquet around his patient's arm, "Not really necessary, as your veins are rather well visible, but I'll stick to the standard procedure", before he reached for the needle. Trying to conceal the panic that the sight of those objects always caused, Genesis turned his head away immediately. Although he felt that his behaviour might be evaluated as somehow impolite, it was still better than risking an anxiety fit or actually passing out.
Strangely enough, this squeamishness only seemed to concern syringes and related instruments; it was not about the sight of blood that often followed, not at all. For a SOLDIER, this would have been ridiculous, if not impossible anyway. Genesis had proven on enough missions that he actually had very little problems with blood, less than most others, even if that blood was his own. After all, that was a sight he had been used to ever since his childhood. And not only due to skinned knees and paper cuts, a voice inside his head reminded him, before he managed to turn that thought down.
"I'll now have to puncture that vein in order to aspirate some blood, to verify thus that the needle is where it should be. This might hurt a little," the scientist announced.
Don't tell me anything about pain, another thought surfaced involuntarily. I guess I have been through enough varieties of that theme before…
As time passed, Genesis felt increasingly tired. He tried to concentrate on a small crack running through the otherwise immaculate white ceiling, but that small task turned out to be extremely difficult, as it at took an enormous effort to keep his eyes open at all. The only thing that kept him from actually dozing off was that annoying, painful burning sensation that started in his right arm and slowly extended from there, and the fact that the still present scientist had continued with some sort of lecture. Although he insisted that the dose was actually quite low and contained only certain components of Mako, wherefore an unfavourable reaction was highly unlikely, he stressed that it was his duty to point out certain facts out anyway.
Had Genesis been in any fitter state, he would have shown that he was able to enumerate all these points perfectly well, too, as he knew them all by hard now. To keep his mind focussed on something, he mentally joined in unison:
Within the next 12 hours, refrain from the following activities: handling of materia, straining physical work including running and lifting of any weights, operating any complicated programs or devices… Try to avoid any kind of excitement, whenever possible.
Pay attention to possible side effects and adverse reactions, which include apathy, fever, headaches, nausea, dizziness, fainting, hallucinations, temporal hypersensitivity or complete loss of perception, sweating, vomiting, muscle cramps, cardiac arrhythmia and severe bleeding. If any of those indications does not wear off or becomes threatening, you are obliged to contact the science department immediately…
Genesis closed his eyes for a moment. The reason why he knew all of those symptoms so well was not only because he had heard this enumeration at least a dozen times, but also because he had suffered from every single one of those conditions before, more or less severely. As a newly promoted cadet of the SOLDIER unit, his spells of morning sickness alone would have put any pregnant woman to shame – this was also the kind of comment he used to get whenever someone noticed, which just confirmed his determination to hide even the tiniest signs of feeling unwell as long as anyhow possible; a behaviour that still formed a core part of his character, although it had turned out to be a huge mistake back then…
Strange, how closing one's eyes seemed to highlight things you wouldn't really notice otherwise: The complete silence of the room after the scientist had left. The fact that Genesis' head felt like stuffed with cotton wool and all his thoughts seemed slowed down as if they had to fight their way through dense fog, which made it difficult to turn down those unwanted memories and thoughts that came up occasionally. And last but not least this still annoying, burning pain that had more or less spread over his entire body by now.
Genesis could basically feel that light green poison running through his veins, always light green, no matter how watered down it was, and poison anyway, for Mako was – in general - lethal for any living being. Only after years of endless experimenting and improving, the Shinra scientists had found a way to allow certain cells of the human body to fuse with Mako particles, instead of being destroyed by them. The results were astonishing, but at a high price.
Once again, that was a detail Genesis only knew too well. For some reason that had been entirely unknown to the scientists, his immune system had tried to eliminate those cells in his body that had bounded with Mako particles after the initial treatment. One of the medics in charge had explained it as a mixture of a severe allergic reaction and the very same process that happens in the body of a person suffering from leukaemia. As a result, not only Genesis' future within the SOLDIER unit, but virtually his life had been on the line, until all of a sudden, basically in the last second, his body had decided to tolerate those alien elements. Still, it was a cease fire that could be broken at any time, a fragile balance easily disturbed. His whole system had developed a zero-tolerance-policy towards any changes of the Mako level, the slightest up and down here meant havoc. During the last years, Genesis had tried to come to terms with it, although it had been a difficult task at times. And somehow he still had the eerie premonition that his recent accident hadn't really made things easier.
Today, however, everything was going rather smooth. No even the tiniest sign of an adverse reaction so far, only a slight feeling of disorientation which might as well stem from his general nervousness. Trying to shift his focus back to the outside world, Genesis realized that he was unable to tell how much time had passed already. The rules of procedure claimed that he had to spend at least 45 minutes still lying down and at least 20 minutes sitting up without any signs of side effects, before they were allowed to let him go. Basically, all he could do was to wait, alone, in a room that was still completely silent. The only existing sound, something he felt more than he actually heard, was the rush of blood in his veins and the beating of his own heart, constant, hypnotic.
He did not know when exactly he drifted into that sleep-like state, or how long it lasted. Suddenly, however, he was wide awake and his heart was racing in panic. The most confusing fact was that he had absolutely no idea why. His mind kept trying to track down the last thoughts or pictures that had gone through it, but to no avail. It was like waking up from a terrible nightmare, without being able to recall any of it.
While he was still struggling to calm down, he heard the sound of the door in the background. From the corner of his eye, he registered another person in a white coat. Although he was unable to make out any details, he immediately knew that is was not the same scientist as before. The man stepped up next to him, and reached for his wrist with an experienced gesture. "Goddess almighty, that's a pretty fast pulse rate for someone who was not supposed to move during the last hour. Are you feeling unwell, Lieutenant?"
Genesis immediately recognized the voice, but his mind needed a few minutes to process the results. Turning his head to get a better look at the white-dressed man, he voiced his surprise: "Dr. Marco? I did not expect to see you in the science department."
The addressed, whose title stood in obvious contradiction to his rather young age and his casual appearance that reminded more of a medical student than of the graduated and experienced physician he was, returned a polite smile and briefly noted something on his clipboard. Genesis had gotten to know him as the doctor in charge right after his accident, and frequently seen him during the last weeks.
"Still not answering any personal questions, I see. Looks like your condition can't be that bad. For your information I'd like to add that you are still my patient, even if science thinks they have to take over from here on, as according to them, it is not a problem of health anymore, but of capability.
Both departments are entwined anyway, and last but not least, this is where my career started. I'm first and foremost a physician, but also a scientist. Family heirloom, I guess. My father was one of the leading investigators in the development of the initial Mako treatment procedure. Two out of my three brothers are scientists, too, one also a physician, the other currently a laboratory assistant, and the only one to break ranks is with the Turks. But I don't want to bore you with my family history…" He removed the bandage to briefly inspected the entry wound of the needle, and then reached for Genesis' other wrist to take his pulse once more. "Improving, but not yet what I want it to be. While we are waiting, why don't you tell me something for a change? How are you feeling recently?"
"Fine, thank you," Genesis returned automatically, which Dr. Marco commented with a mock frown and a dry: "Of course. I don't remember ever getting a different reply from you, unless you weren't responding at all, which was pretty much self-explanatory. Still, that's not exactly helpful. How am I supposed to find out what's wrong, when you insist that nothing is?"
"But I'm feeling a lot better," Genesis insisted. "Almost like before the accident. There is something that confuses me though…"
"And that is?"
"When I was told last week that they wanted to do these injections, my initial reaction was like: Well, first they tell you that you have too much of that stuff in your system, and given your low tolerance towards Mako, that is actually very unfavourable; and then they even want to up that dose. Sorry, but do they know what they are doing?"
"If so, why did you not announce your doubts to the responsible doctor or scientist?" Dr. Marco returned with a serious expression.
Genesis stifled a bitter laugh. "I did. But as usual, those people don't take their time to reply to any 'unscientific' questions. They just give that 'it shouldn't really interest you at all'-look that makes you feel like you are wearing a sign stating 'Property of the Shinra Company'."
His conversational partner nodded slowly. "Believe it or not, that's the thing I hate about most of my 'science-only' colleagues. I tend to avoid leaving the hospital section for exactly that reason." He looked at Genesis for another minute, before he added: "According to what they told me, this is about different versions or derivates of Mako. The level of one component in your body is too high, and in order to establish a balance again, they need to higher the level of that other variety, too. Can't give you the exact details, I'm not a specialist like my father, but if you are interested…"
Genesis made a gesture of denial. "I don't think those figures would make much sense to me anyway. But can you tell me when exactly I will be back on the same capability level as before the accident?"
The white-clad man cocked his head. "I can't really answer that, Lieutenant. It depends on many factors. The only certainty is: not yet." He looked down at his clipboard again, before he continued in a tone of a mechanic running through a checklist: "Let's get back to the official part: Do you feel any severe pain right now? Any evident loss of perception? Any other unusual reaction I should know about?" Genesis denied every point dutifully, until the physician finally announced: "Well, in that case, you can try and sit up. Slowly, of course."
His patient did as told. Stephen Marco did not miss the slight grimace of discomfort Genesis showed in the very second he actually set up, but that was a normal reaction after being confined to lie down for quite a while.
"You know the procedure. If you are still sitting upright in 20 minutes, you survived today's task and are free to go."
Genesis gave him a thin, not very satisfied smile. Registering that, the doctor moved over to one of the white cabinets and took out a few dark foils that roughly reminded of x-ray pictures.
"Let me show you something," he said in a confidential tone, before he pulled over a luminescent screen and put on the first foil, which showed two concentric circles. The ring between them was coloured in an extremely dark blue with hints of violet, and featured an endless amount of tiny bright white dots.
"This is something my father discovered. He named it the 'midnight sky-' or 'star field effect'. What you see here is a retina scan made under the influence of special ultraviolet light, taken a few days after a standard Mako treatment. Before, or with any 'normal' person, that ring would be just dark blue, but as a result of the treatment, tiny fractions of Mako accumulated in the retina. These fragments are also responsible for the destroying of melanin and the change of eye colour, usually towards a shade of blue. The standard use for such a scan is to see roughly how high the Mako levels in someone's body are and if there is a possible overdose. Remember that this is the picture of a healthy person," he put up the second foil, "While this is the extreme opposite."
The new picture showed nothing but a ring glowing in pure white.
"That is not exactly good, isn't it?" Genesis asked in a low voice.
"No, it isn't. The whole retina is basically bleached by the influence of Mako, which results in blindness, and in this case, also in death due to a critical overdose, commonly known as 'Mako poisoning'." With a swift movement, Dr. Marco removed that foil to put up the third and final one. "Finally, after seeing the two ends of the spectrum, you can make up your own opinion about this one."
There was that dark blue and violet again, a colour that indeed reminded of a midnight sky, broken by hundreds of white spots. Only this time, those dots did not really remind of stars, as they were slightly too big for that.
"That looks more like a mine field, actually," Genesis said, after studying it for a while, and quoting from a poem he once read, he added: "An orchard of mines."
"Interesting terminology. A bit too poetic to describe a pathological result, but surely creative."
Holding the other's gaze for a while, and then turning back to the displayed picture again, Genesis asked: "There is another point about this one, isn't it?"
Dr. Marco nodded slowly. "One final point indeed. This scan was taken three days ago. It's yours."
~°oOo°oOo°oOo°~
Later on the same evening, Stephen Marco finished his working day by typing his daily reports.
Hierarchy. An important term, and he did not doubt its necessity; he just could not get used to the way hierarchy worked in this department of the Shinra Company. And he was not alone with this point of view. Exactly the same reason had driven his father to retirement, giving up a remarkable position as leading scientist, and his older brother Patrick into exile. Of course that wasn't what the files would say. The official term the company's top management had used was 'relocation due to staff shortage' somewhere in the outback. But both he and his brother had known immediately that this was the punishment for one of the most hated crimes in the Shinra Company: insubordination. Almost equivalent to high treason.
Too bad their father had passed away a few years ago. Sometimes Stephen would have loved to discuss certain patient charts with him. Like this one for example. A highly intriguing case, seen from a scientist's position. Seeing it from a physician's point of view, however, he was frustrated that the science department was able to dictate him how to treat his patients. Recently, he felt that instead of being cured, certain patients were virtually used as guinea pigs. If that was the way things were supposed to work here, it was maybe better that his father was gone. He would have hated to see what his former workspace had turned into, although he had already seen it coming.
"I don't like those guys they are promotion into the top positions," he had muttered repeatedly. "Especially not this guy named Hojo. Too ambitious, only thinking of his work, too many dark theories anyway. He gives me the creeps. I swear, whenever people talk about the cliché of the mad scientist, his picture should come up. But it's not like Hollander is a safer bet."
Stephen Marco frowned slightly, before focusing his attention on checking the notes one final time. That was it. He had done what he was supposed to do, and he had stored the report as usual. Still, the computer, or more precisely the company's server he was logged in to, informed him with blinking letters that there was a final step to take.
'File Request: Send copy to Terminal 098.655.4330 immediately.'
Request was a polite expression. Order would have been more fitting. Stephen had been confronted with this message several times during the last weeks. In his eyes, it was a symptom of the laziness that belonged to a certain position within this so much hated hierarchy. All the patient files, as well as other information on every member of staff of the Shinra Company, were openly accessible according to rank and position of the person wanting to look at them. The leading scientists had almost unlimited access anyway, still they were the ones who could pose a request, which meant they did not have to look for that information anymore, but got it send to their personal computer as soon as it had entered the network.
Truth be told, Stephen had treated patients with so-called 'report requests' before, but this terminal number had been unknown to him. It had taken several days and a lot of frustrating research to find out who was behind it: one of the most valuable employees of the science department, according to the prevailing opinion of the company's management, of course. Hollander. Somehow he still found this discovery unsettling, although he could not yet point out why exactly.
"As bad as it sounds, Stephen, at the moment there is nothing you can do but to play on according to their rules. Otherwise you jeopardize everything our family has reached over the years, and even more, you put your own life in danger. I was mad enough to try, so don't repeat my mistake."
As much as he hated to admit it, his brother had been right. Stephen Marco sighed again, and finally hit the 'send' button.