Dawn – chpt 4
by: sifi.
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"Well, then failure is NOT an option," Shep said and entered the room, accompanied by Tom and Dr. Fitzgerald.
"Do you mind?" the doctor frowned at Laura who held Dean against her for one more long moment while resting her lips at his neck before sliding out from behind him.
"Excuse me," she sighed and shambled into the bathroom where she shut the door and sat on the toilet resting her head on her forearm against the sink, every breath grating like broken glass all through her body.
A sharp rap on the door came just before Tom's gentle voice, "Y'alright?"
Taking another deep breath she forced herself to her feet and ran the water, splashing handfuls on her face, "Yeah, be right out," she groaned tiredly.
With a shiver she pulled the door open, leaning on the jamb, almost too tired to stand.
Her gaze slid up from Tom's gentle expectant smirk to his bright blue eyes. Mindful of where he remembered her wounds were, he slid an arm around her mid-back and motioned toward Dean's now empty bed where a two inch wide stripe of red ran across the middle third of the sheets, almost exactly where she'd been sitting.
Dean spocked his eyebrow at her and held up one of his jonnies which now bore a football sized shiny stain all its own.
Laura stopped short in Tom's arms, her heart pounding in her throat, her eyes wide as sweat started to pour. They were all looking at her; the doctor, Shep, Tom at her side, Sam and even Dean.
"Let's get you fixed up huh?" Tom suggested softly trying not to wince as her right hand white-knuckle gripped his.
She looks terrified, Sam thought frowning as he threw a curious look at his brother.
What the...? What the hell's she gonna be scared of here? Dean wondered, his eyes flicking over Sam's before he came forward to take Tom's place.
She shook her head, "It's okay, really, I got some 4-0 in the car, I'll take care of it myself," she half stammered as Dean led her stiltedly to his bed.
"You're already here, just let 'im stitch you up and it's done," he whispered softly as Shep drew the curtain around the bed, separating himself, Tom and Sam from the others, granting them a modicum of privacy.
Dr. Fitzgerald snapped a pair of latex gloves on and pat the bed. As Dean sat her down and stepped back her eyes bolted to his with almost physical strength.
"I'm right here," he assured her.
"Mr. Fogerty tells me you were a nurse in Nebraska," the doctor started, recognizing the nearly paralyzing fear that had gripped the woman though he didn't understand it.
"Uh huh," she nodded watching his hands grasp the zipper of the jacket.
"Let's just see what's going on under here okay?" the exam chatter started as he pulled the tab down, "So what kind of a nurse were you? OR? ER? OB/Gynie?" he asked conversationally.
Laura closed her eyes, her breath holding in her chest as she croaked, "ER," a blast of cold hit her skin trading places with the pool of wet heat that had been largely contained by the fluid repellant jacket.
A shiver that was more of a spasm twisted her faintly as she shook her head and breathed, "No," grasping the inner edges of the jacket and pulling them tight around her again, her eyes pinned to the floor behind the doctor.
Slowly Dr. Fitzgerald lowered himself into a crouch in front of her and waved his hand, her eyes didn't move and she didn't blink. He turned his gaze to Dean who was just stiffly lowering himself onto a stool with a disturbed frown twisting his mouth.
"Miss Finnegan?" Dr. Fitzgerald said softly.
"Huh?" she huffed, her eyes still fixed on the floor.
"Are you alright?" he asked.
Slowly she nodded though her expression remained unchanged, and again, her eyes refused to move.
Dean moved forward as the doctor moved back, his un-casted hand gently wrapped around her deeply bruised left, "Hey, let go now, lemme see okay?"
Finally her eyes flicked to his and held fast, she took a tremulous breath and nodded as he finished unzipping the jacket and separated the edges loosing a sheet of blood and fluid from the protective lining into her lap where it splattered onto the floor.
"Aw hell," he grunted as the doctor tossed a blanket onto the floor and rose.
"I'll be right back, just gonna get a few things," he said as Dean nodded, his eyes never leaving hers, his expression twisted in curiosity.
The instant Dr. Fitzgerald was out of sight Laura took a deep breath, turned her head and smiled faintly, leaning her forehead against Dean's temple.
"You okay now?" he asked.
"Yeah," she nodded.
"Let's get rid of the jacket," he urged sliding it over one shoulder while she slid it off the other, the myriad burns, blisters, and bits of charred skin leaping off that once pristine alabaster canvas, each insult vivid and inflammatory, steeling his resolve to do everything possible to win this war, or as she'd intimated earlier, to stop it from happening.
Blood and water ran from the hole in her forearm down to where her bruised and swollen fingers were curled around her knee, and started to soak the jeans there.
"You're a little bit of a mess," he muttered following the length of the diagonal tear the marauder had caused, the edges of the skin starting to curl open leaving connective tissues and muscle visible to the eye.
What areas of her skin that was clean seemed only to be so because the fluid from the burns must have washed the blood away. Bloody patches and smears were crusted with dirt and leaves, and woody detritus remained plastered to her.
He raised his casted arm, his puffy and also darkly bruised fingers angling toward the slash, and a little pocket of flesh made by a child's hand. He watched her curiously as she half smiled and nodded.
"It's okay," she assured him.
"You wanna tell me what that was with the doc?" he asked gently pressing on the distended bit of skin.
She shrugged.
She watched his fingers push the pocket, and breathed deep the burning heat that erupted behind the motion as the bloody contents were pushed upward toward the edge.
"C'mon, what's goin on here?" he asked peering down into the pool and wincing as the level of faintly shimmering red bobbed with his prodding.
She moved his hand away and rolled her own upward from the base of the pouch, a glut of viscous and almost stringy red spewed over the edge of the skin and down her belly to soak into her filthy jeans.
"Holy hell..." he grimaced looking into her face as she pressed the palm of her hand to the wound, keeping the skin down.
His eyes fell to the stitches Shep had put into the front and back of her side, What happened there anyway? You never did tell me... why do you think you have to carry it all by yourself?
Her eyes were closed and her breathing though shallow was at least even.
The years of practice he'd got from raising his little brother left no doubt in his mind, there was something bothering her, She wasn't like this last night, or whenever it was, man it seems like ages ago. I don't get it, he wondered and took inventory, okay she's in pain, that's a given, but she's afraid, oh come on, afraid of what? Whatever it is, doesn't matter, fact is she IS afraid... he chewed his bottom lip and ran his hand down the side of her head.
She turned pressing her lips to his palm, "I should go, get a head start, gotta get to Bobby's and make sure everything's in order..." she muttered, "Just kinda tired, y'know?"
"So let the doc fix you up, then go back to the motel and get some sleep, we'll call Bobby and tell him you'll be a few hours later," he suggested.
Laura shook her head, "Gotta take advantage of its downtime, it's resting... it's learning, and studying," she whispered quickly, "It's trying to find ways to identify us, to track us, to track you and Sam, it wants what you have... it'll kill you to get it..."
Her heart beat thundered against his hand on her back, water squeezed from her eyes and her breathing was starting to feel sporadic.
"Are you in contact with that thing?" he asked struck by the sudden insight as Dr. Fitzgerald returned carrying a tray full of medical supplies.
"I felt it lay down, if I try, I can feel it burrowing veins of poison through the earth," she half hiccoughed, "God help us if we can't stop it..." her eyes opened to Dean's but quickly caught on the doctor before dashing back down to the floor, all hint of responsiveness gone again.
He cast a curious look at Dean who shrugged and shook his head, just as baffled as the doctor was.
"Okay Miss Finnegan..." he started.
"Laura," Dean corrected.
"Laura, we're gonna need to get the bra off you..." he looked pointedly at Dean.
"Uh uh, I ain't goin' anywhere with her like this. I've seen it all anyway," he argued noting that the muttered conversation between Sam, Shep and Tom on the other side of the curtain seemed to grow just a little louder.
A moment later they had her wrapped in a gown with the opening in front.
"Okay good, now can I have you lay back..." he urged.
Slowly she pivoted and did as requested, her left hand gripping Dean's right while he sat beside her and the doctor worked from her right side. She closed her eyes and ground her lower lip between her teeth.
Dean's gaze flicked back and forth between her tormented expression and the doctor's concerned one.
The surgeon wasn't happy about the quantity of wounds or length of time they'd been neglected, and he began to ask questions he really didn't want the answers to, especially not after hearing what had happened at the last hospital the boys had been at.
"Burns?" he asked.
Laura nodded, her tongue flashing out to wet her parched lips, "Barbeque lighter," she explained.
"And here?" he gingerly touched the stitching at her side.
"Bullet hole got barbed wire threaded through it," she gushed and felt Dean's hand squeeze hers in sympathy as the doctor hissed through his teeth.
"And this?" he traced the line of the slash.
Dean watched her breath hitch, "Knife..." she lied.
He prodded at the leaking pouch, "She stuck her hand in there," she gasped then whimpered.
The doctor assessed the slash, testing the borders of the skin, spreading them open to see how deep the cut went then pushing them together to see if there was a chance that the damaged skin would hold, or if he'd have to cut the borders before stitching them together.
At her side Dean gently continued to wipe away the stream of tears that slid down her temple as the doctor prodded and assessed.
He grimaced when he reached the waistband of her jeans and lifted it up to see how much further the slice went, then sighed.
"Okay Laura you're gonna need to take those jeans down for me..."
Her body shook with silent sobs as her hands moved to the button and opened it.
Frowning deeply Dean leaned forward, his lips to her ear, "S'okay sweetie, s'okay he's just gonna get you patched up," this is the girl who ran around nekked for 3 months in the Sidhe universe?
She nodded, her eyes squeezed tight as she worked the gummed up zipper down and feebly pushed the right side of the gluey garment off her hip.
"Here, lemme give you a hand..." Dr. Fitzgerald offered softly, curling his fingers into the fabric on both sides of her pelvis and gently tugging them downward.
"No..." she breathed, "...wait... no, don't," she shook her head, her hands clasping at the material.
A light bulb went on in Dean's head as he wrapped his arm around her head and whispered softly, "It's okay, you're safe, he's just gonna stitch you up, you're okay," he assured her so low that no one else could hear what he was saying.
"Please..." she whispered desperately with tears flowing freely and sobs threatening to come loudly.
"Just a couple inches Laura, I just need to get to the end of this cut," Dr. Fitzgerald explained, looking into the elder hunter's watery eyes before he gave a gentle tug that ended it all.
The waistband of the jeans slid from her fingers and over her hips and with a gasp her eyes burst open, "No, stop. Stop! Don't TOUCH ME!" she barked breaking free from Dean to pull the gown closed over herself while her hands frantically sought her pants and pulled them up, quickly fastening them and rolling from the bed.
"Sammy," Dean called, hoping she wouldn't bolt as he pushed himself to his feet.
"That's it, nuh uh, I can't..." she shook her head frantically, her eyes saucer wide as Sam slid behind the curtain, and after quickly helping Dean to his feet, moved to stand beside Laura.
"Hey, it's okay..." he started to try and soothe but she shook her head holding the jonnie tightly closed over herself.
"Nuh uh... No, I uh...I'm good, s'okay, just there's things gotta get done," she looked from Sam to Dean then to the jacket that lay across the foot of the bed.
She grabbed the heavy, half-soaked garment searching through the pockets until she had her car keys firmly in hand. Beneath her arms the jonnie was already soaking through with a fresh red diagonal stripe down the front.
"Laura hold on now, c'mon, you gotta get fixed up here..." Sam tried to reason, his arms strong and warm behind her.
She shook her head still fighting to dam the tears and quell the shaking that was actually visible, even with her arms wrapped tightly around her torso, "S'okay, I'm fine really, it's, I'll... Bobby... he can, or at the motel, I can... I got 4-0 in the car, and everything..." she tried to slow her breathing as Dean moved to her side as well, he and his little brother forming a protective wall around her, "I need a shower," she nodded pressing away the lines of tears with the heel of her hand as she slowly regained composure.
"Sorry, there just isn't time," she sniffed shaking her head. Without a thought she unbuttoned her jeans and slid them down enough to tuck the jonnie inside.
"Huh, okay, that's better," she huffed smiling awkwardly at the doctor who nodded and gave a faint smile of understanding.
Abruptly she turned against Sam, looping one of her arms around his neck, drawing him down so she could kiss his cheek, "Thanks, sorry," she sniffled again and stroked his smile gently then clutched his big brother tightly to herself.
"I...there's, you know... things," she breathed faintly into his ear, "Lotta stuff to do y'know?"
Over her shoulder Dean met his little brother's eyes, the two men sharing a look that was both knowing and confused. They both had a good idea of what had caused her reaction, but not necessarily why now.
"Alright," he nodded softly, "and hey...nothing to be sorry about," he pressed his lips to her cheek, "but do us a favor before you head out to Bobby's okay? Take Shep with you, let him fix you up at the motel okay?"
She nodded, "Yeah, sure."
Shep slid his head through a crack in the curtain, "Someone back here take my name in vain?"
Sam chuckled, patting him on the back as he left the cubicle to return to Tom who sat patiently, though unabashedly interested in what was going on, on the younger man's bed.
"Take her back to the motel and fix her up will ya'old timer?" Dean asked.
"Watch who you're callin' old timer youngun," he growled good naturedly and quickly assessed the situation. With a cocked eyebrow and a frown he wrapped his arm around her shoulders and turned her toward the door, "C'mon girl, let's go do what the man says, get your stinky self cleaned up, sewed up, and rested up a bit."
Laura couldn't help but chuckle as he guided her to the door. His hand snaked out and grasped the bucket of supplies the doctor had brought in with him, "Thanks Doc," he chirped happily then called over his shoulder, "Call if y'need anything."
Dean and Dr. Fitzgerald watched Shep support her down the hallway and around the corner before he began the examination of his real patient, and with a quick backward glance down the hall, then a look into the young man's worried gaze, "She doesn't let ANY of it out does she?"
Dean shook his head, "I wish to hell she would," he sighed.
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tbc.
Please R&R
thanks sifi.