Who: Marguerite and Percy Blakeney, Martha Jones and NPC!Director What: Apparently while some just have a bad cold, others get pneumonia from being 220 years behind the evolution of the immune system/cold virus mutations When: Evening of 13 November 2012 Where: Local theatre to the medbay Warnings: Should be none~ Status: GDoc/Thread | Incomplete
Marguerite was annoyed. Yes, annoyed. She had started feeling ill on Thursday after the drive from camp but had brushed it off as nothing more than recovering from a week of demon hunter camp to be better prepared to survive in this world. Nine hours in a car with two sick, overdramatic grown men. Really, she had met nobles with children better behaved when those children had appalling behavior to begin with. But she just went with it, making sure she had her blocking memorized, lines and cues, things of that nature.
As the days went by, the actress had noticed that she wasn’t getting better. She was still sore, she had developed a rather bad cough, it was ridiculously cold and couldn’t sleep for long periods of time despite feeling completely exhausted and worn down. But she also had dealt with similar symptoms before in France, and always weathered through them. She had tea, water, found a way to try and stay warm. But nothing was working and she was convinced it was nothing that bad. After all, Andrew and Peter only had colds. Something she was able to handle without turning into an overgrown child in the process.
Come Tuesday, Marguerite was miserable but masking it. She was an actress and this was crunch time before tech began the following week. Besides, Percy seeming to start hovering as if she were going to collapse at any moment was tiresome, so she needed to mask the miserable feeling so he’d stop with that nonsense. Of course he had decided to follow her to rehearsal, but they did tend to do the walk together anyway.
“Rehearsal should be done by ten. I can manage the walk home if you do not come back.” Squeezing his hand, Marguerite went to sign in, hanging up her jacket though she kept her scarf on. Why was it so damn cold in here? And why did everyone else seem to be fine and not cold? Shivering, she went to sit backstage. They were starting with the end of Act One, so she had a little bit of time to wait. Comments on how she didn’t look too well were met with a generic response of just being tired, it wasn’t that big a deal. She had survived worse. In theory.
Once rehearsal had started, the red headed woman waited for her cue before going on stage, prop in hand.
“Look, ma’am an invitation, here ma’am delivered by--” Or she could get hit with a really bad cough, vision blurring, and legs going out a Marguerite collapsed from the coughing fit.
Okay. Maybe she wasn’t as fine as she thought she was.
Marguerite wasn’t the only one annoyed with Peter. Percy was annoyed because he could see Marguerite getting ill. Knowing her play was getting close to tech week and going into production, this was so not the time for her to get sick. Though the drive back from Bobby’s had been...interesting, to say the least. Being in a car for that long with two sick men had been bad enough, but the amount of whining and crabbing about this or that had been rather more than Percy had needed to hear.
So as the days had passed and it was obvious, at least to anyone other than Marguerite herself, that Marguerite was getting worse, Percy started to hover. It was mostly in making sure she was fine and bringing her tea or water or something. But gradually his hovering grew more and more. He’d normally walk with her to the theatre for rehearsal, but when Marguerite had started getting sick, Percy had been staying for part of the rehearsals, or coming back when they were finished. He had, of course, spoken with the director when Marguerite wasn’t looking. Luckily they both were in accord that Marguerite should remain healthy, so today, Percy was planning to stay the whole day because he wasn’t going to leave his wife lest something happen.
“All right, good luck, my dear.” Percy gave her a smile and squeezed her hand back. And then he made his way to find a seat in the audience because he was hovering. So as the rehearsal started, Percy watched, keeping a close eye on Marguerite. And then it struck.
A coughing fit and Marguerite collapsing on stage. Yes, this was so very not good. And Percy made it from his seat somewhere in the middle of the audience to the stage in record time.
“Marguerite!” Percy exclaimed, pulling himself up on the stage and going over to her. It was at least only a rehearsal and not an actual performance, though he might’ve done the same during an actual performance, but that was besides the point. His priority was Marguerite and she was most definitely not okay.
Marguerite couldn’t recall the last time she had been so ill as to collapse. Then again, she was so used to having to just work through it that such things as colds and such didn’t phase her. She had to provide for Armand. Had to provide for herself. Really, getting sick could literally be a death sentence if she let it hold her back. Food would grow scarce. Not that it was an issue here, but the instinct to work through things was still there. Had she been this ill before? Perhaps, but she’d only had Armand to take care of her then.
The first thing she was aware of was Percy’s presence. Hadn’t he left? No. The past few rehearsals, he had been sitting in for the first part. They hadn’t gotten that far, then. With the stage manager coming over with some water, Marguerite rested against her husband, holding the glass weakly. She really hated feeling this weak. All of the instincts that had dulled slightly while in England had come back in her time in Lawrence, being alert, survival. The reasoning was different but the danger was still real.
“Merci...”
With the director coming over, the cast moved away to give the French woman some space.
“Are you feeling any better?”
Nodding some, Marguerite managed to not choke on her water as another coughing attack hit, which earned her a quirked brow in response. “Right. Well. I want you to go see a doctor if you think you can get up and don’t need an ambulance... We have a little over a week until tech begins and I’d rather you healthy for that instead of pushing yourself through the next ten days.”
Noticing the protest, Marguerite’s director just shook his head.
“We have this covered. Go home, go to a doctor, get better.”
Standing up, the man looked to Percy and gave a slight nod. He wanted to call an ambulance but his conversations with the man made it seem that it might be impractical and as it seemed she did have access to a doctor, he would trust Percy to get her there. At least the man had been there that night.
Percy was fully aware that Marguerite could take care of herself, knowledge of that wasn’t the issue here. No. It was more the fact that her ability to take care of herself was keeping her from seeing she needed to not push herself right now. Which was probably why Percy had preemptively already had conversations with the director. After all, while Percy was respectful of his wife’s wish to act, he was concerned about her health and that if she didn’t stop pushing herself now she wouldn’t be able to go on stage once the show opened. The Englishman knew that in the long run, Marguerite would probably have more issue with having missed performing when the show opened than missing a few rehearsals when she clearly knew her part.
While Marguerite drank the water, he held her, noting how weak she seemed to be. Even though he thought there should’ve been something he could’ve done to keep her from even coming tonight and instead have taken her to the medbay, he knew Marguerite would never have agreed until she realized she was more ill than she thought. Inwardly, Percy was amused that the director was pointedly telling Marguerite to go home and see a doctor and to get better. Once Marguerite had finished her water, Percy helped her stand up, keeping his arms around her to steady her. He returned the slight nod, giving the director a little smile. Percy would certainly insure that Marguerite was back on her feet and back to the stage in no time.
“Are you alright to walk?” He wasn’t sure if Marguerite was light-headed or not, but he was not above carrying her if she couldn’t walk herself. At the very least, he’d keep his arms around her so that she didn’t lose her balance. He was very glad the complex had a medbay, so hopefully by the time they got there, there wouldn’t be an influx of patients so they could get in and out quickly. Percy had a hunch that Marguerite would not like being examined. Then again, who really did? But as long as they helped his wife recover her health, he would make her sit through it.
Percy was right to think that her ability to take care of herself did make it so that Marguerite didn’t realize the extent of her illness. After all, with everyone saying it was just a bad cold, she knew that was something she could easily handle. She was more upset by people not listening and blowing things out of proportion. So much headache could have been avoided. But that was neither here nor there. But with orders from her director to see a doctor and Percy’s presence, she knew that she really had no choice in the matter anymore. Though it wasn’t as if she were an idiot. She would have realized that by collapsing, she wasn’t as fine as she thought. Not that seeing doctors was something she was even used to. That would require money and time, things she didn’t exactly have an abundance of. The Comedie Francaise had at least employed a doctor for those who worked there, but before that?
At the question on if she could walk, Marguerite shot an annoyed looked to her husband.
“I am sick, not an invalid.”
Well, no one ever said Marguerite wasn’t stubborn. She at least knew she had to go to the medbay, that wasn’t the question. And she knew at least one of the doctors there. She just didn’t like the idea of being picked up and carried back to the complex. And given her fever and being sick, she wasn’t in a teasing mood. She was just frustrated. Though Percy was also right that she’d be far more upset about missing the actual performance as opposed to rehearsals. She did have a point to make, though. Which was why she started walking ahead, knowing her husband would follow suit.
Despite getting her jacket back on, Marguerite was freezing. Which was ridiculous. Yes it was cold, but it wasn’t as bad as it had been at camp. Still, the walk did take longer than normal given Marguerite getting hit with coughing attacks more frequently from said cold and the whole movement thing that came with walking. But she still refused to be carried around like an invalid. So small talk really wasn’t an option and instead, she focused more on staying upright.
And after longer than she would have liked, the two returned to the complex and to the medbay, another coughing spasm hitting, which caused Marguerite to lean against her husband weakly. There. She had gotten there without needing to be carried. Now they could see what was wrong.
The evening was drawing on and that meant Martha was just starting her shift at the Medbay clinic. The graveyard shift was never exactly joyful and entertaining, but it was important. She had read about Andrew and Peter’s colds, but after the fact, her sleeping schedule being so different to anyone else. Well, anyone but the vampires she supposed. And yes, she was irritated that no one bar the wife of a Medbay doctor had actually thought to mention the Medbay. But Martha still felt very much like the new person on the block, and so she kept her mouth shut and just got on with her work.
Work which mostly involved going over some medical histories, analyzing test results, and other such boring things. She was just contemplating getting a coffee when she heard the movements at the door. With a smooth movement, Martha got up from her chair, pulling her lab coat over her black tank top and pants, ever the combination of soldier and doctor these days. Even if her UNIT dogtags were tucked away under her top. It didn’t take her long to reach the door, and the couple who seemed to be in need of help. A redhead and..... Jack? She paused and did a double take, blinking slightly. But the clothes were different. And he hadn’t come in shouting for her, which Jack probably would have done. So maybe not then.
Still, not important. What was important was the coughing woman, who clearly needed help. “Good evening,” she tried to offer what she hoped was a reassuring smile. “I’m Martha, the doctor on duty. Sit down, and we’ll sort you out.” With a gentle hand on the woman’s elbow, she began to guide her to the nearby chair, while glancing for her thermometer. “How long has this been going on? And are you having any problems besides the coughing?” While the questions were phrased at the woman, Martha did glance at the Jack-faced man, in case he had answers as well. In case the woman was too ill to properly answer.
Noticing the double take, Marguerite figured that meant that Martha either knew Jack, or someone who looked like the two men. And given the fact Marguerite had been thrown upon seeing Jack that first time, she understood it. How distorting it could be. But Martha seemed to handle it far better than Marguerite had. Not like that was hard given where the French woman had been mentally at the time and all.
Letting herself be led to the chair, Marguerite sat down, not really certain on what to expect. For one, this was an actual medical facility and not a spare room in the theatre. Two, two hundred and twenty year time jump. But okay. Questions. She could focus on the questions.
“I think it started Thursday after camp....” It made sense, but it had also made sense that she was just trying to recover from said camp. On top of rehearsals. “Exhaustion, being sore... the cough started Friday as well as being cold and generally feeling weak.”
As much as Marguerite didn’t really want to deal with this, it was a cold, she also wanted to get better to be back in time for tech rehearsals so she would be forthcoming.
“I have been having issues with focusing and I collapsed at rehearsal today.”
And cue another coughing spasm. This... this really was not okay. It hurt. A lot.
Okay, Thursday. Same as the time Peter and Andrew had gotten sick. But this seemed to be different, Martha just couldn’t quite put her finger on why yet. “Okay, I just want to do a few basic tests, okay? See if I can get a better idea of what’s going on.” With that, she grabbed her thermometer, holding it up. “Right then, I’m just going to hold this in your ear for a moment, it’ll take your temperature for me, it won’t hurt, I promise.” Without knowing her patient, Martha couldn’t be sure how she would react to the various tests, so her movements were slow yet steady as she raised the thermometer and gently placed it in the ear, holding it there for the few seconds before it beeped. Once the reading settled, Martha read it with a faint frown. High. Not good, but nothing too terrifying. Still, enough to make her unhappy.
“Alright, nothing too unexpected there,” Martha still smiled, trying to look reassuring. “Now, I want to check on the state of your breathing, and listen to your lungs a bit, if you mind letting me use this?” She lifted the stethoscope from around her neck, with a questioning look in her eyes. “I just need to place this on your chest so I can hear it properly.” She shifted the earbuds into position, holding the end out ready. “What’s your name, by the way?”
And already things were different, though that made sense given the fact that they were in a different time period. So Marguerite merely nodded her consent to the different tests. The attempt to look reassuring really didn’t do much after Martha had gotten her temperature. How something in her ear could tell that, she really didn’t know but she also was able to read people. Mostly.
Still, at least she wasn’t just going about things as if Marguerite should know what to expect. That would have been strange.
“All right...”
And it was. Because Marguerite did want to know what was wrong. All signs pointed to it just being the same cold Andrew and Peter had, but she was here and she had collapsed at rehearsal, which never happened. So it was better safe than sorry. It was just collapsing was the sign to her that maybe it was more.
“Marguerite Blakeney.” And given the fact she had noticed the double take earlier, “And that is my husband, Percy.”
She knew that Jack had figured out that her husband was the Scarlet Pimpernel, though she didn’t know if Martha would as she didn’t know the connection the two had or if it was someone else she had seen when she had seen the two.
Martha gently shifted Marguerite’s top so she could place the instrument over her skin. “Sorry, this might be a bit cold,” she smiled apologetically before she concentrated on the sounds she was hearing. “Okay, take a deep breath for me? And another one? And another but hold it for me this time? Okay, that’s great, thank you.” There was just the slightest frown on her face as she listened. The breathing sounded labored, and through the stethoscope, the doctor could hear the faint wheezing of mucus on the lungs.
She also took note of what else she could simply see on Marguerite, the tired expression, the pale skin. Pale even for a redhead. And so it didn’t seem like she was just staring, she kept talking. “That’s a really pretty name. With that and your accent, I’m going to guess French?” Her and Percy both, at a guess. Martha was sure she should recognize the names, but quite why or how she was struggling to place right then. And it really was strange to see someone identical in appearance to Jack.
Still, patient first. She smiled gently. “Well, you’re running a temperature, and I can hear some strain on your lungs, which isn’t unusual for colds. What worries me is you saying that you collapsed, which makes me wonder if your immune system isn’t struggling somewhat to cope with this. Have you had much experience with being sick before, or are you someone who normally manages to get by with these things?”
While the stethoscope was indeed cold, Marguerite didn’t really notice it as she was already feeling ridiculously cold, the chills that refused to leave her alone. So all she did was do as she was told in terms of taking deep breaths, nodding at the question on if she was French. Though by the third breath, her vision started blurring as she tried to keep from coughing until Martha was done, and once she was, well, there was another coughing attack.
The initial comment was proof that it was just a cold. Well, that it should have been but the fact that she had collapsed was worrisome, and then there was the question about how she normally responded to being ill. She didn’t exactly understand why her immune system might be struggling with something like this, but maybe Martha would.
“I have been ill in the past and able to work through it, I had to.”
Shrugging, the actress didn’t think much of it. She did what she needed to survive. Percy knew this, and she was pretty certain that was why he hadn’t pushed as much as maybe he wanted to, or at least as much as his hovering seemed to indicate. Because he knew that she was used to taking care of herself and knew what she was doing. Until now, obviously.
After arriving at the medbay, Percy had stood off to the side, ensuring he didn’t get in the doctor’s way. But he was, of course, silently worrying. Well, there was a crease of worry across his forehead and a heavy note of it in his eyes. He felt like pacing while Martha did the examination, but he forced himself to remain in one spot. After all, his pacing would only agitate Marguerite no doubt and Martha would probably be put a bit on edge. So. Staying put it was.
Percy listened carefully to everything Martha said, and was both confused and intrigued by the tools she was using. Things had most certainly advanced in the time frame he and Marguerite had skipped over thanks to the Seal. And it was Marguerite’s ability to take care of herself that had kept him from hovering nearly as much as he wanted to. Though he had wondered if he should have pushed harder and gotten her to come here earlier than this. Perhaps in that case things would have been headed off before Marguerite had gotten this bad.
Though it really was a miracle that Percy wasn’t sick yet. He had the same issue Marguerite had of having the two hundred plus years of cold virus mutation that their immune systems weren’t used to. But Percy was fairly certain he would get it sooner or later having just been around Peter and Andrew when they had initially fallen ill and now having been around Marguerite.
“I do not know if it will help in your assessment, but Marguerite and I are from two hundred and twenty years in the past.” Percy decided to give that piece of information just in case it had some sort of impact on how Martha approached this. And unlike his wife and his facetwin, Percy had an upperclass British accent.