maes hughes (maes) wrote in notebookthreads, @ 2015-04-10 22:25:00 |
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A bead of sweat rolled down Maes forehead down into his eye, the sting was nearly a welcome distraction from the sharp pain in his shoulder. With each step blood dripped from the tips of his fingers down to the cobblestone ground below, and his vision began to tunnel.
No, he thought to himself, I have to call Roy. A sudden burst of energy went through him, his hand clamping down tighter over the wound in his shoulder. Roy needed to know that King Bradley was involved somehow with the everything, and that this thing went deeper than any of them had anticipated.
And I have to get home to my family…
He had made a promise, and Maes would be damned if he broke that promise. Pulling open the phone booth door, Maes dialed the number to the Eastern Command Headquarters. The phone hadn’t even started to ring when he felt a strange sensation. Maes cursed underneath his breath, his vision blurring as he stumbled back.
I can’t die here. The thought tumbled through his mind as he fell backwards, and landed hard on his backside. He gasped, the color draining from his face with the sudden shot of nauseating pain from his shoulder that ripped down through his body. Maes took in several shallow breaths, warm blood seeping through his fingers while his vision came back into focus.
“Hope Springs.” He murmured when the wooden sign came into focus. More sweat dripped down his face, not only from the pain he was in but from the sudden change in climate. He looked around, seeing the apartment complex just off to the side, and still nothing made any sense to him.
He wasn’t in Central any longer, he had not been teleported to Ishval or Liore for that matter either. Maybe this place was Heaven?
“Too hot for it to be.” He murmured with a small lift of his lips. No, this place wasn’t Heaven or Hell, it was something else entirely. The sound of ground crunching beneath booted feet caused him to turn his head, his left hand ready to hit the spring that would send a push knife into his fingers if need be. He didn’t know this woman. Was this just a trick by the creature, or was she nothing more than a good samaritan? It was time to test the waters.
Maes grinned, lifting his left hand to offer a small wave even though it hurt to move his arm too much. “Yo,” his voice sounded a lot more chipper than it should have considering, “I seem to have found myself in a bit of a predicament here. Do you happen to know where here actually is?”
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Natasha was standing on the other side of the sign when she heard movement behind her. This new place - Hope Springs - was an unfamiliar setting. She felt like it was some kind of test environment, but the care package was a new touch. Occasionally, the Red Room had set her with an objective and, if she was lucky, a weapon, but otherwise it was left to her to complete the mission with only her wits and skills. To be provided a laptop, mobile device, a bank card and an apartment key was unheard of. Not to mention, this wasn’t in SHIELD’s wheelhouse. HYDRA may have poisoned it to the core, but they hadn’t compromised their secrecy with tactics that would’ve had them caught with her, Barton and Coulson working a mission.
She slid her new phone into a pocket on her tool belt. Dressed in her Widow Suit, she was armed in such a way that she’d be able to put up one hell of a fight. Whoever it was that groaned could be a potential threat, but it sounded like a wounded groan. Still, Natasha had her defenses up as she purposefully let her boots crunch against the ground as she moved around the sign and took in the injured man. He had a knife concealed on him, but that didn’t automatically make him a threat. Not if he didn’t have the skills and training to fight through the pain. Natasha took in every detail as her gaze swept from head to toe. Possible threat, she decided, but not an immediate one.
“Hope Springs,” she replied, her lips quirking up just slightly as she glanced toward the sign. “Shouldn’t move that arm. Looks like a bitch. You’re going to want to put pressure on it.” Natasha took a half step closer and slowly knelt down. “Now, I’d say I won’t hurt you, but putting pressure on it is going to hurt and most people? They can’t put that pressure on it themselves.” She gave him a reassuring smile before reaching out to bunch up the fabric around the wound to give her the barrier she needed to help stop the bleeding. “You’re going to need a real cleaning and some stitches, probably. Pretty nasty shot.”
The approach of another set of feet turned her attention toward the sound, assessing the potential threat of whatever might come along with those footsteps.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Warm weather was the best medicine in Thirteen's opinion. She had loved every minute she'd spent in Thailand with her lover. They'd basked nude on a beach together, covered one another in softly scented body creams provided by the locals, made love for hours without a care as to who might or might not stumble upon them. It'd been its own kind of paradise.
Dying women deserved to get to touch paradise before their time came.
At least, Thirteen thought so and really? Her opinion was the only one she was interested in. Everyone else was only so much noise. None of them truly understood. She'd tried -a few times- to find people who did understand. That had led to heartache, annoyance, or frustration.
She wasn't a victim.
Everybody dies, she thought with a twisted grin as she could nearly hear House saying the words. He'd been a bastard, but he'd been right more than he'd been wrong. He had lived to suit himself. She didn't mourn him. The world was lucky to have had him as long as it managed. People like House were shooting stars, burning brightly for only the blink of an eye before they were gone.
She heard the quiet conversation behind the sign. It was an interesting conundrum she found herself in: should she offer herself up as a surgeon or play her skills close to the vest? What if this man deserved to die? What if he wanted to die?
People knew she was a doctor, but otherwise? She was still a mystery.
Exactly as she liked it.
"Need a hand?" she offered as if it were every day she stumbled upon a bleeding victim while walking outside in the sun, "I'm a doctor. I wouldn't mind offering up my opinion or help if you need it. Otherwise? I'm going to keep walking. Enjoy the sunshine. I've missed warm weather."
Vacationing in The Tropics was expensive, she thought yet didn't say. Her medication wasn't cheap though it was moderately effective. Thirteen considered whether or not she'd rather spend a few wonderful weeks on an island or another few years of mediocre to miserable existence on the mainland...it was something to think about.
~*~
Maes made a slight sound of pain as the woman pressed down harder around the wound. More sweat beaded on his forehead, and he took in a deep breath to steady himself and keep the nausea at bay. “Thank you.” He replied with a small nod of his head and a light hearted smile over at her, “It could’ve been worse. Had I not moved she’d have hit me directly through the heart.” At least he’d gotten the woman, he’d tossed a push knife directly into the middle of her forehead and when he’d left the room they’d been in, she was slumped up against the wall.
Not that Maes believed for one second that she was dead, but it comforted him to know that she hadn’t been on his trail as he’d headed outside.
Of course, there were more of them out there, and it would’ve been a matter of time before they’d found him. He hated to think that he could’ve put Gracia and Elicia in harms way. He prayed that Roy would take care of them, and that they were alright for the time being.
Maes glanced over at as the other woman approached, eyes taking in her appearance for a few silent moments, much like he had the first woman’s. Neither one of them seemed to be a threat, they were just minding their own business when he’d happened to come along and ruin that.
“I would appreciate you taking a look at it if it wouldn’t inconvenience you too much. I know how important walks out in the sunshine are.” He and Gracia had taken many walks together while they were dating, and they’d talked about their future together. Maes thought fondly about those days from time to time, and so far they had followed their plan to the letter. “I’m Lieutenant Colonel Maes Hughes, intelligence officer for the Amestrian State Military currently stationed at Central Command.” Maes didn’t know if his words would mean anything to either one of the women, but he felt it was only fair that they know who he was.
His chin dropped towards his chest, “Neither one of you have happened to see a woman in a black dress with a tattoo on her chest have you?” He had no idea what that woman was capable of, but he wanted to know if that woman was there. “She’s the one that did this to me, and she’s extremely dangerous.”
~*~*~*~
Natasha immediately liked the newcomer, though she didn’t let her defenses down entirely. Doctors were always good allies, though she knew plenty to keep herself patched up and alive while Medical tended to the more seriously injured and/or less medically trained. There were plenty of times where she and Clint were left to their own devices on missions, where Coulson could only feed them tidbits of information where possible, and no back-up or supplies. They’d done a lot more with a lot less, so she could have probably handled this guy’s GSW, but it would be more informative for her if the good, hot doctor did it for her.
“Good thing you moved then,” Natasha replied, more amused than anything by Lieutenant Colonel Maes Hughes. His details meant very little to her, as it was a military she didn’t know - and therefore easily assumed didn’t exist in her world - and intelligence officers were the kind she tended to avoid. Coulson dealt with the pencil pushers and passed along information she retrieved, along with whatever else she’d been tasked with getting on her missions.
Natasha glanced at the doctor, arching an eyebrow as if to ask what was needed on her end. “I’m good with direction,” she offered lightly, before glancing around for the woman Hughes had described. “She’s not in the immediate vicinity,” she added, figuring the man would need some reassurance on that front. “You can worry about her later. For now, you should count yourself lucky you’ve got a doctor here to patch you up.” Not that they had any kind of medical equipment, but she figured Doc would have something up her sleeve, literally or metaphorically, Natasha didn’t particularly care.
~*~*~*~
Opening her purse, Thirteen dug into its depths to pull out a set of medical shears. She had a sewing kit in the purse. She thought. Worst case scenario? She'd use the shears to cut free some thread from the man's suit to patch him up with using the needle she kept in the side of her purse.
Recreations such as hers led to being prepared for all sort of things. Thirteen wasn't one who wanted to make herself invaluable to anyone, but useful offhand? That was different. That was being prepared. Good sense. She could have good sense even if she didn't necessarily make the most sensible decision all the time.
"I haven't seen a woman with a tattoo on her chest. I'd have noticed her, too. I tend to look at women before men. They're always more dangerous."
She settled into a crouch by the man, far enough from the other woman to avoid interfering with her holding pressure on the wound.
"Lift your hands off the wound. Use these shears. Cut free the material until I can see it. I need to see all the margins. If it's a through-and-through? I'll want to see the back as well. If it isn't? Things are going to get much more uncomfortable for you, Lieutenant Colonel. Were you shot? Am I looking for anything inside the wound?"
Bullets or foreign bodies of any kind could lead to death if not removed. Some idiots wanted to keep their bullets inside their bodies until the fucking things worked their way out on their own. Machismo or something. Thirteen had always thought it was stupid. They were all stupid. People with their guns.
Why did people want to kill each other? Cut their lives short when they were perfectly healthy? Didn't they know how precious their lives were? How lucky they were to live healthy lives which could last and last and last?
She had no idea what had caused his wound, but it was obvious it would need sutures.
"I will have to suture it. I don't have suture material, but your jacket looks stitched nicely enough. I can harvest the thread. I have a needle. Tell me as much as you remember about the injury. Talk fast before you start to lose too much blood."
~*~
Lucky did seem to be Maes’ middle name.
He had a feeling his luck would’ve run out if he hadn’t been brought to this place.
“Trust me, I am feeling quite lucky right about now.” Maes chuckled softly, eyes closing as he sat there trying to ignore the pain. Relief washed through him when both ladies mentioned that they’d seen no sign of the woman he mentioned. It would’ve been rather unfortunate for all of them if she had been, although he thought he and the first woman might be able to take her down.
Though what would it take to kill something like her? Maes hoped he didn’t have to find out.
There was no point in outright lying to the doctor, she’d see that there was no burn from gunpowder or jagged edges around the wound once she got a better look at it. He was torn for a few moments on what exactly to tell the women. On one hand it would be better if they knew what had done this to him, so they could be prepared in the event she appeared. On the other hand, the more information they had the more danger they could be in if she appeared.
Maes weighed the pros and cons of each situation quickly before coming to a suitable conclusion. Best case they’d believe him, worst case, they would toss him into a mental hospital. At least he’d get decent food and wouldn’t have to deal with paperwork.
“It’s all the way through. I was stabbed. This woman, she’s not human.” A wave of dizziness hit him, and Maes squeezed his eyes closed tighter in an attempt to fight off the vertigo. Taking in a few shallow breaths, he spoke again. “I’m not sure what she is, but she speared me through the shoulder with her fingers.” A half-hearted chuckle parted his lips, “Crazy sounding, I know, but it’s true. She got me from all the way across the room. I’ve seen some weird things in my day, hell, I work with State Alchemists but that? I’ve never seen anything like that before.”
~*~
Natasha was damn good at what she did and often her first impressions of people were correct, which was a skill she’d perfected with every mistake. This doctor was smarter than she was letting on, and probably just a touch more prepared as well. She shifted her position just slightly, keeping pressure on the wound as she made more room for the Doc. Hughes’ story seemed out there - fingers as spears were something for the movies - but Natasha wasn’t going to do more than raise an eyebrow at it. Who knew what kind of people were from his world, and it only made her consider him more of a potential threat based on the fact that he might be hiding special abilities from them.
She’d deal with that, if need be. For now, she pushed him up to more of a seated position and took the shears from the Doc, deftly cutting away Hughes’ shirt with little regard for the fabric. She’d steal him another from somewhere if this place didn’t have a place to buy them from. That would be a problem for later. Natasha discarded the bloody fabric carelessly and inspected the back of the wound. “You’re going to need to harvest a decent amount of thread there, doc,” she directed toward Thirteen, before glancing at Hughes. “Getting speared through the shoulder is a new one, and probably less sanitary than a straight GSW.” The Doc would probably have more helpful instructions, as opposed to Natasha’s general guideline of cleaning it out, damn the pain.
Natasha didn’t wait for permission from Hughes, snipping the end seam of his jacket’s arm to create a start of the thread. She handed the shears over to the Doc and set to work quickly and efficiently harvesting the thread. It was good, and would do in the interim. She calculated how much Doc would need and then added a bit more, giving her plenty of thread to work with and providing minimal damage to Hughes’ jacket. A sharp tug snapped the thread where she intended and Natasha handed it over. “Front or back first?”
~*~
Through-and-throughs were the best wounds to get depending on what section of the body one was talking about. A straight shot through the shoulder? No problem. Secure the brachial artery, everything was cake after that. A straight shot through the frontal lobe? Goodnight and good luck. There wasn't a lot of hesitation from her interesting nursing aide. It helped to have someone who had no concerns with blood.
People who had spears for fingers? They didn't worry Thirteen as much as intrigue her. What other kinds of people were in his world? Was that a common gift? Was it a mutation? He couldn't do it from the sound of things since he was emphasizing that woman had not been human which meant he considered himself to be human. Either way, it left plenty of room for dreaming of nightmare creatures from other realms.
Every exposed bit of flesh was met with her sharp appraisal until she was being asked where she wanted to begin. A cursory glance at the size of the wounds revealed the front was far more accessible than the back. She spooled the relatively clean thread around her fingers as she got her needle ready to go.
"Front. I'm going to need to irrigate it. Do you think you could find a water bottle? One of those sports types with the spout at the top? I think I saw a vending machine over there at the other apartment complex. I've got some dollars, some change. If we need to, we can do that. I can then get in there to check on the status of the brachial artery. It looks intact from here. I doubt it's torn or he'd be dead by now. All external sutures and yeah, should be fine if he rests it and cleans it with whatever astringent we can find."
Thirteen wasn't interested in whether or not he'd live. She was only interested in doing all she could to keep him from dying under her watch. It was her place to keep him alive. Hippocratic Oath and all that shit. House would be proud of her for keeping her emotions in check. Thirteen didn't feel as if she'd been more in-check in her life.
This place was an entirely surreal acid trip so far. She was only going through the motions.
"That puts us needing clean water, some kind of astringent -alcohol, betadine, anything you can find- and some clean cloths to tape over it. We'll all be on our merry ways after that. Questions, comments, concerns? No? Good. Let's get to it."
It wasn't like they could waste time. Even if he was human, he wouldn't be able to get a blood transfusion from herself or the Natasha woman. All she had to do was look at her to know she wasn't likely to be a suitable donor. Too many chances she'd run across something nasty in her past on top of the fact most redheads had rare blood types since they were all genetically atypical.
~*~
The words both women spoke sounded far away at certain points, but Maes would be damned if he passed out on them now. He'd been through a war, a war that nearly eradicated an entire race of people because these beings wanted to create a giant transmutation circle.
Maes hoped that Roy, the Elrics, somebody they trusted would piece it together in time to stop it.
A single tear leaked from the corner of his eye as he thought about his wife and daughter. He hoped they were safe, that they would be safe and that all the fighting, the killing, and the injustice would stop. Maes knew the road ahead for everyone back home was going to be a hard one, regardless of if he was there or not, and he hoped that they would be able to shoulder the burden.
He didn't protest as they moved him around, he gritted his teeth hard, eyes still tightly closed as more sweat dripped down his face. "Do whatever you need to, doc. I'd prefer not to bleed to death or die of an infection here. Hell, anywhere for that matter." He'd had so much life left to live, he wanted to see his daughter grow up, get married - to a respectable man of course - and have children of her own. He wanted to have another child with his wife, to grow old with her, and to die peacefully in his sleep before she did.
Maes couldn't let himself think about any of that, it was too depressing and the pain was only making it all worse.
Somewhere though in the back of Maes's mind he knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that everything would be fine.
"Thank you." He spoke to both women, although he didn't look up at them, but he meant it all the same.
Luck, for now at least, was still on his side.