FP 100 Prompt Challenge Fic
Who: Eileen Prince-Derrick and Robert Chase Where: St. Pancras When: During the tainted flu vaccine storyline What: Discovery of her mutation Warning: not beta'd
Disclaimer: This fic is part of a game, but the world itself and many of the characters are copyright and owned by various other authors and companies. No infringement is intended. We're just RPGing and having fun. This fic is part of a 'challenge' within the game.
The Hands of Blue had struck recently, causing no end of chaos and concern. They were still trying to figure out who had been affected by the tainted vaccines. So far, they only knew of three deaths, but the fear was that it would reach epic proportions similar to the destruction of the Ministry of Magic, St. Mungos, and part of Diagon Alley in October. Over one hundred people had perished during the three front battle launched by the DE and their allies.
The Gods were fast at work, trying to make a deal with the Gods of another realm, but it was unknown what that deal was, and how it would help.
Right now, they were trying to control the panic that had begun with the first of the mutations.
Even those that were not trained to deal with patients directly were being pulled into the Clinic to work. Lucky Washburne had threatened everyone on staff that was able-bodied to come down and help, or so help them God, she was going to take them apart. And everyone took Lucky's threats serious when she used 'that' tone. The Amazon could be as laid back as any, but in a crisis, her word was still law. Whether it was in battle, or in the Clinic, it didn't matter.
Those identified with 'fatal mutations' were put directly into stasis as soon as they were found. Moved to Atlantis and placed in their medical bay, where they would sleep until something could be done. Those with mutations that were compatible with life, were instructed where to go. Either Durmstrang, if they were 'dangerous', or Hogwarts, if the mutation was minor or relatively harmless.
Her heart had taken an unexpected plunge when she discovered her father was among those that were found with a 'F.M.' She hadn't thought she'd feel that way, considering how little time they had spent together since arriving within the universe. She's never known him in her own time line. He'd died before she was born. They'd had a shaky start, when she'd arrived. And it had never truly improved. They merely tolerated and ignored one another. But seeing him lying on the gurney, pale and breathing shallowly? It hit her that she should have tried harder to talk to him. To convince him she was different and had changed, just as he had.
Now, it was potentially too late.
She looked to the woman in front of her, clutching her son in her arms and pleading with Eileen to tell her that the boy would be all right. The device, Atlantean in nature fit perfectly in the witch's hand as she ran it over the child. Minutes seemed to stretch into eternity today as she waited for the results, but it wasn't until she saw the light toward the bottom that she allowed herself to breathe. The child was going to be fine, and so was the mother.
She gave the woman two gold slips and directed her to the exit.
Beside her, Chase shifted on his feet, rolling his shoulders. The spell that lightened the wings till his muscles adjusted to the added weight was wearing thin. His new 'additions' had not been the result of a mutation, but instead the result of him coming into his heritage. Only his mother had been human, and Chase had been a product of a brief affair, leaving Rowan to raise a son that was not his.
"Are you all right?" Eileen muttered under her breath as she scanned the next patient.
The young man gave a brief nod. "I'm fine. Sore. But fine. More worried about Greg and father than I am a few sore muscles. While I know they won't have a mutation, I worry about them being on their feet this long."
Eileen made a low sound in her throat. "You are clear." She handed the young woman a gold slip and sent her on her way. "If it becomes too bad, James will give them a shot of Morphine. You know that."
"Regardless, I hate that it may come to that." Chase frowned, scanning his own patient before sending them to the second floor with a silver slip. "You'll be all right. The mutation seems to be minor, but we won't know what it will do until you exhibit the... symptoms."
"All hands on deck." Eileen sighed, shaking her head. "Even your sister Lucille is seeing patients today."
Lucille Welcher was both Chase's 'little sister' and big sister. Little in that she was younger than he, but big sister because she was actually born before him. The joys of time travels and universe jumping made it so that you couldn't depend on anything being the way one thought it SHOULD be.
She was also the one that performed the autopsies. Her patients were not usually alive! So it was noteworthy to realize she was on the other side of the lobby scanning those that were still breathing and not in some stage of decomposition.
"She creeps me out." He muttered before handing the next patient a gold slip, offering a smile and nodding to the direction they should go.
"I've met worse. I've done worse." Eileen pointed out.
"That whole, used to be a bad guy thing, right? Lots of you here." Chase always felt nervous around the ex-DE that populated the universe. How did they know for sure that they had given up their old ways? That they were 'on the side of the angels' such as it were, and pardon the expression.
Of course, he'd never use that expression in front of his father or his sisters. He didn't want another lecture about how 'angels were a race' and 'not part of any particular religion'. Or that there were angels with bad attitudes and warrior ways. He knew that.
"Yes, indeed. Remember, this is the place of second chances." She reminded him. "Clean slates, to start again, and do it right."
He nodded, mostly to himself. Many of them were given their second chances on the cusp of their deaths. Chase's had come because in his universe, the gunman that had shot Greg months before had returned to make a second attempt. But instead of finding the older doctor, had found Chase instead. As the bullet would have pierced his heart he was transported here, and offered a new chance at life., in a place where magic was more than real and almost anything was possible.
But unfortunately? It was also in the middle of a war.
And that was something he still wasn't too sure of. He was to train with a demon, in order to be prepared to face the opposition on the field of battle someday. He knew his father had also been in the military at one point, back in his own realm. But it didn't make it easier and it scared the 'hell' out of Chase to even consider that he'd have to raise a sword against another being.
They were quiet as they worked, only speaking to the patients and trying to process them as fast as they could while being as accurate as possible. Some of the staff were flagging, having been at it since dawn. Lucky herself was seeing patients, at least, those that would see her. She could be very intimidating due to her height and bearing. And even the Snapes were deigning to grace them with their appearance taking time out of their own research in potions and chemistry to clear as many patients as possible in the next few days.
Simone's hands had a slight tremor in them, from what Eileen could see. Though she wasn't sure if that was due to tiredness or too much caffeine. She's already been at it for well over twenty-four hours, having started during the day before and working through the emergency entrance through the night only to clock into the Clinic come morning.
Eileen vaguely wondered what Mal thought of the situation, and then remembered that Mal was one of those that had a liveable mutation. He was probably on Serenity learning to deal with producing 'multiple' selves. Simone had no mutations.
She rolled her neck on her shoulders, feeling her energy flag as she saw yet another patient in front of her. It was with a sinking sensation that she registered the fatal mutation that would take the young girl's life. She closed her eyes and silently groaned as she waved to Harry. Their only social worker, psychologist, or whatever the hell he was. The rest? Were dead.
Rubbing her forehead, she handed him the file and nodded toward Narcissa. Gently, he took her to the side, taking her to a room behind them. From there, he'd talk to her as they were transported to Atlantis, where she'd be put into stasis. Eileen closed her eyes again, trying to figure out how she'd tell the girl's mother.
She ran a hand down her face, and looked at the line, wanting to scream in frustration. It was never going to end! And how many more would she have to send off?
So many people thought that Eileen had no feelings, or if she did, they were of the negative sort. That she was distant, and uncaring. It wasn't true though. Oh, it had been at one point. But that was in the past. She felt so much more these days, and so much more acutely. It was both a blessing and a curse bestowed on her by Brent, her significant other. Her husband. Wild and 'free' in so many ways, the man was a caring person from the top of his blue hair to the bottom of his combat boots. A far cry from the proper 'pureblood' gentlemen that was expected of her to marry, this man was the opposite of everything Darcio had stood for. And she liked it that way. But it also meant that right now, she wanted to scream and hurl things at the wall at the injustice of it all.
The vaccines had been meant to help those, particularly with low immunity systems. Now, they were changing, mutating, and in some cases killing those that had gotten the last batch.
She could hear the crying in the other room, and finally shook her head. "I need a break. Just... just twenty minutes." She told Chase.
Narcissa lived in her home! Had done so for months now. Was dating her son. And now both were in danger. She had already lost more than one child in this war, and she had done her best not to let it destroy her. But she was so damn overwhelmed right now.
She pushed through the crowd, heading toward the stairs as fast as she could, nearly running.
When she was a girl, a young girl, the man that raised her had mockingly called her 'graceful'. It was because she was anything but. It wasn't unusual to see her trip over the edge of the carpet, and end up arse over teakettle. Nor was it unusual to see her fall 'up' the stairs, or end up sliding down them on her arse. It was part of why she was perfectly content to play gobstones rather than try out for something like Quidditch. She was sure if she got any higher than a stepladder, she'd fall to her death!
This continued well into adulthood, and even to this point, she was generally careful about how she placed her feet. It made it look like she was merely methodical and gave her the air of 'control fury' at times. It was good for intimidation.
But she was frantically trying to get to her office before more emotion showed on her face than she was comfortable with people seeing.
That is why it wasn't such a surprise to her that her foot missed not one, but several steps. Due to the steepness of the stairwell in question, she began to fall down the stairs, but... what did surprise her? Was that as she fell, she flipped over in mid fall and twisted around till she landed on her feet on the platform below.
Her heart was pounding in her chest and she looked up toward the floor she had originally stepped out of, back down to where she had landed.
What. The. HELL?
She heard a sound and turned abruptly trying to trace where it was coming from, only to realize a second later that it was a tiny beetle crossing the landing. Dropping to her knees, she tried to catch it, instantly intrigued by it. It flew up into the air and she jumped after it, batting it down with one of her hands. Then blinked in confusion as she realized what he'd done.
Her sense of smell was heightening, and she found herself sniffing along the wall... trying to figure out the source of the strange scents teasing her nose. Old paint, wood varnish for the railing, the dirt from the shoes of many feet despite often being swept and cleaned. And a strange trace of urine. Infection. The urine smelled as though the person had an infection.
She grabbed the railing, trying to get hold of herself, and realized that she still had the Ancient device strapped to her hand. Swallowing, she ran it over herself, realizing she'd not bothered since in a way? She hadn't wanted to know.
Sitting down heavily and with less grace than she'd fallen down the stairs, she half cried and half laughed as she looked at the results.
If only her stepfather could see her now, he would hardly call her 'Graceful' ever again.
On the other hand? If he had... she could have scratched his eyes out, like the cat she was becoming.