Work Text:
“At this point, there is really only one course of action we can take.”
Almost against his will, White felt himself perk up at the words, even as he fretted over Doctor Fawn’s woeful state. The Chief Medical Officer was, visually at least, a wreck of the man he normally was.
The Spectrum uniform was mostly discarded, the boots scuffed and dull, and his preferred howie lab coat was wrinkled and creased. He was slumped down in the seat he was sitting in, cradling a cup of hot coffee in both hands, head bowed to stare into the liquid as if it held the answers they desperately sought. His hair was toused and stiff, standing up in the positions he had tugged it into his frustration and bewilderment through the remnants of product and lack of washing through this whole nightmare. When Fawn looked up, White noted how drawn and pale his features were, the dark bags prominent under his eyes, and the dark beginnings of a beard – too prominent to be considered five o’clock shadow or ‘scruff’ – disfigured the outline of his face.
White forced himself to focus on the words, to focus on the hope that they held. “And that is?”
“We’re going to have to tie him down and cut open the sites identified, manually debride any foreign or infected tissues.” Fawn took a gulp of the coffee. “And we’re going to have to do it quickly. I don’t know how much more of this he can take, and I don’t want to find out, either.”
White considered, before nodding cautiously. It seemed reasonable, considering the course of events. He glanced down at the bulging folder in front of him, recalling the main gist what was inside it. A Mysteron threat that focused on the city of Prayagraj in India, and the Maha Kumbh Mela festival – a celebration of the Hindu faith that happens only once every one hundred and forty-four years, the twelve yearly form, the Purna Kumbh Mela, is recognised as the world’s largest public gathering. In pursuit of the Mysteron agent carrying the detonator unit for the primed canisters of sarin gas secreted around the area, Scarlet had ended up following the replicant into the Ganges River, at its point of confluence with the Yamuna River. He had been successful, but in the course of the struggle he had received myriad cuts which had then been exposed to the waters of two of the world’s ten most polluted rivers.
As the injuries had mostly healed as expected by the time Scarlet returned to Cloudbase, Fawn had cleaned what remained, documented the reported extent of the injuries and, mostly for his own peace of mind, administered a hefty dose of antibiotics.
The rest – the main bulk – of the file recounted what had happened since a week after the end of the mission, when a barely responsive and feverish Scarlet was dragged into Sickbay by Captains Blue and Ochre.
Fawn had immediately administered heavy-duty fever reducers, and began a series of tests to determine the origins of the fever. It had been a relatively straightforward process to identify the cause as infection in the injuries he had obtained during the Prayagraj mission. Consulting the database maintained by the World Health Organisation, the various bacterium found in Scarlet’s bloodstream were proven to be from the polluted rivers.
And when increasingly complicated courses of medications failed to rectify the solution, Fawn had once more gone to battle against the phenomenon of Retrometabolism and managing to reconfigure the medical imaging equipment to produce comprehensible to medical professionals. These images showed cyst-like formations in the injuries that had healed before Fawn could treat them.
From these cysts, it was theorised, the bacterium had been thriving in an environment protected from Scarlet’s natural immune system and retrometabolism. Complicating matters was that the retrometablism periodically broke down the walls of the cysts, releasing the bacterium, before recognising the dangers they produced, and reforming the cysts.
Thus, Fawn’s announcement that the cysts needed to be surgically removed. As soon as possible.
White nodded. The costs this constant cycle of retrometablism was having on Scarlet’s energy reserves, on top of the demands of his human immune system, was a massive cost, and he was burning through every calorie and nutrient that could be forced into his body as soon as it was there.
“And how how do you propose to overcome the problem with introducing anaesthetics with active retrometabolism?”
Fawn heaved a sigh, but it was Doctor Aubergine that spoke. “We will not,” she said simply.
White felt his jaw dropping. “What?” he managed.
“As you know, previous experience has taught us that to successfully anaesthetise Scarlet, we have to do it when the retrometabolism is inactive, otherwise it is immediately rendered inactive before it has a chance to take effect,” Aubergine replied. “Scarlet’s retrometabolism has been active for well over a week. I honestly don’t think we could access enough anaesthetic to make a difference, let along figure out how to administer it in sufficient doses.”
White swallowed at the implications. The some of the cysts were deep, and large. To cut them out of a fully conscious man… Not for the first time he cursed the Mysterons, and the attack Black had made on their city.
“When…” his voice broke, and he took a moment to compose himself. “When will this operation take place?”
“As soon as you give your consent,” Fawn sighed.
“My consent?” He had never been asked to consent to a medical procedure for one of his officers.
Aubergine answered. “Yes, sir. Scarlet is currently non compos mentis, and cannot give consent to the procedure. And considering the nature of the circumstances, it is not possible to seek the permission of his parents, who are his designated Next of Kin, and therefore hold his Power of Attorney. As his Commanding Officer, sir, you have the authority to make this decision on his behalf.”
White grimaced. Aubergine was right. It was a little known, and rarely used power of the Commander in Chief of Spectrum, but one that was undeniable. It was not a duty that he relished in the exceedingly rare circumstances it came up.
He looked to Aubergine. “Doctor Aubergine, I presume…”
He didn’t get a chance to finish. “Scarlet’s current state of disorientation has him unable to recognise most people. The only one of us who can get close to him without him lashing out is Doctor Fawn. Scarlet will be much calmer, and the better for it, if Fawn is the one doing the operation. Although,” she frowned, “that seems to be getting less reliable of late.”
White smiled thinly. “I recommend that he takes the time to shave before approaching Scarlet,” he said mildly.
Fawn raised a hand to his face and grimaced. “Ugh. I take your point.” White watched the orderly who had accompanied the two Doctors silently leave the room, uncommanded.
White considered Fawn again. “I know you said the procedure must be done immediately, but I presume you will take some rest before performing the surgery.”
The medics glanced at each other before replying, and White felt his hackles rising. “We don’t have the time,” Aubergine stated. “Scarlet’s condition is going getting steadily worse.”
“We propose that I take a StimShot before going in,” Fawn said, grimacing. “We’ve calculated a three-quarter of the standard dose should be enough of a pick-me-up to allow me to focus and have the energy to see it through, without impacting my fine motor control.”
White frowned. StimShots were common drug cocktail provided to special force personnel on extended missions to allow them to function when fatigue would have felled them. Spectrum used them sparingly compared to most elite units, and they necessitated a full medical examination afterwards. For Fawn to deem it necessary for him to use it…
“Is it truly that dire?” he asked, not sure he wanted the answer.
That glance again. “Yes,” came the simultaneous answer.
“Very well,” White said, feeling the weight of this decision pressing down him. “You have my permission. For every aspect of your plan.”
Fawn stepped out of the shower, trying not to listen to the shouting and frenzied screaming coming from the main area of Cloudbase.
It had been Aubergine’s idea, to avoid Scarlet associating Fawn with the relocation to the surgery unit, and to follow the Colonel’s suggestion that he clean himself up to be more recognisable.
Grabbing the electric razor and focusing on the mirror, while he continued to dry himself one handed with the towel, he started to shave.
He grimaced at the mess he was leaving in the sink, but there was no helping it, he was short of time, and long of facial hair. He made a mental note to make it up to housekeeping.
By the time the screaming had subsided, Fawn had knocked the scruffy beard down to a five o’clock shadow, dried off, finger-combed his hair into some semblance of order and had his scrub pants on with the comfortable thick soled shoes he wore in surgery. He was pulling on the scrub shirt when the door opened and Aubergine let herself into the bathroom.
She glanced in disgust at the mess in the sink, as she sat a hardshell carry case beside the sink. “Housekeeping is going to be after you.”
He shrugged. “It’d hardly be the first time. And far from the first time I’ve had to kiss up to get back into someone’s good books.”
She snorted, not denying it. After all, she had been the recipient of luxury chocolates, pastries and other hard to-source niceties as recompense for him foisting various tasks off on her as he had fallen into research rabbit holes in his quest to provide the answers needed about retrometabolism.
Fawn looked to the door. “It’s quiet out there. How much of a fight did he put up?”
Aubergine grimaced. “Beige is seeing to a broken nose, and there’s a suspected broken arm with imaging.”
Fawn sighed. “I’m gonna have to suck up to you, too, aren’t I? I’m dumping you with a hell of a mess.”
“You are, but I’d prefer the mess to what you’re going to do.”
“So would I,” Fawn said grimly. “But there’s no way around it, so let’s get this show on the road.”
Aubergine pulled an elasticised wrap out of the case. “Ready to suit up?”
He pulled the shirt up to expose his chest. “Your hands better not be cold.”
Aubergine stepped behind him and reached around with the wrap. Fawn breathed out as she settled it against his chest, and secured it at his back. He breathed in to test the tension.
“Okay?”
He twisted left then right, and then looked down, and reached across himself, left to right, right to left.
“Yeah, s’okay.”
Fawn slumped against the wall and watched as Aubergine checked the linked recorder was receiving the vital signs the wrap was recording and transmitting.
“This is ready.” Aubergine shut the carry case.
Fawn sighed. “Right. The sooner we do this, the sooner we get over it.”
Aubergine trailed her boss out of the bathroom and into the scrub room outside of the surgery where Scarlet was waiting. Jacaranda was waiting inside, holding a tray with a single pre-set dose injector.
“Are you sure about this?” Aubergine asked, as the three stared at the injector.
“Don’t have a choice,” Fawn said tiredly. “He kicks off if anyone other than me gets near him, and he’s getting weaker. We don’t have time for me to rest up, this is the only real option available.”
Aubergine sighed. “You’ve never used a StimShot before–”
“And I hope fervently to never use one again. You’ll have my vitals, and I’m sure you’ll be watching every move I make. If it looks like I’m having an adverse reaction, come in. Stand on me if necessary, but Scarlet is the priority.” He offered an unconvincing smile. “Scarlet will be released from Sickbay before I will be, he’ll get a good giggle over that.”
Jacaranda huffed, and offered the tray to Aubergine. She picked up the injector and smirked. “I finally get to stab you.”
“Look at you, living the dream. You go, girl.” Fawn smiled faintly, then winced as Aubergine glared, and stabbed him with more force than strictly necessary.
“Don’t call me ‘girl’,” she glared.
Fawn held his hands up in surrender, “chalk it up to exhaustion. Although…” he stretched and rolled his neck. “Damn, I didn’t think it would work this fast.”
Aubergine smirked. “That’s what it’s designed to do.” She flipped open the case she still carried, and checked the readouts. “Damn, apparently you like this stuff.” She looked up. “The come-down’s going to be a bastard.”
Fawn grimaced. “Great. Well, let’s get this done before that happens.”
He scrubbed in, and let Jacaranda dress him in his surgical gown, and inner gloves, leaving his surgical mask hanging around his neck.
He met the two women’s gazes as he backed through the doors into the operating room and nodded once, before spinning clear of the doors and turning to face his patient.
“Nice and comfy there, Scarlet?” he asked while he was still a good distance away.
Scarlet turned his head. “Doc?” he asked, his voice weak. “What’s…”
“Happening?” Fawn stood by Scarlet’s head. “When you took a swim in the Ganges, you picked up some bugs. I’m here to evict them.”
Scarlet looked at him blankly. “Doc?”
Fawn breathed through out his teeth. Scarlet was getting worse, it seemed like could only just focus on his presence, not what he was saying.
“I’m here, Paul,” he said softly. “I’m going to help you, okay?”
Scarlet just stared at him uncomprehending.
Fawn swallowed. “I’m sorry, Paul. If there was any other way…” he sighed. “This is for your own good. I’m be as quick as possible.”
Ignoring Scarlet’s plaintive “Doc?” he settled the surgical mask over his face, and pulled on the outer gloves, before turning his attention to Scar – the patient’s body. There was a catheter fitted, and a small modesty cloth covered the pelvic region, but the rest of the body was bare save the restraints holding him tightly in position.
The locations of the cysts were marked with circles outlining the shape with notes of approximate depth all written in sharpie market Fawn pulled the prepared tray closer, and picked up a scalpel. He held his hands up and critically examined them, looking for any evidence of a shake or tremor.
They were steady as a rock.
He closed his eyes, offered up a silent prayer to whatever god might look favourably upon retrometabolic humans, and the doctors who were charged with keeping them alive, before removing the wrapper from the scalpel and, with his left hand, tested the muscle covering the largest of the cysts.
One final moment, ignoring the faint “Doc?” from the head of the table, before he brought the scalpel down to the exposed flesh, and the screaming began again.
“Well, this is certainly a change.”
Fawn looked up from the bed he was laying in. “Don’t get used to it,” he warned, yawning as he gesturing roughly in the direction of his visitor, wincing as the IV pulled at his arm.
Scarlet grinned, and stepped over the threshold to sit in a chair by the bed. He appraised Fawn for a long moment, his face growing serious. “Aubergine filled me in on the details,” he said. “Did you really take a StimShot so you could do the surgery?”
Fawn shrugged. “Three quarter dose.”
Scarlet sat back, and huffed. “You, you of all people, taking a StimShot. Why?”
Fawn raised an eyebrow. “Because you were going downhill at a rate of knots, and by the time we figured out what the cause was there wasn’t time to rest up.” Fawn met Scarlet’s eyebrows. “I wasn’t willing to risk you hitting the bottom of that slope.”
Scarlet sat back and rubbed his hand over his face. “Dammit, and you call me a self-sacrificing idiot.”
Fawn grinned. “Maybe remember this next time you start feeling ‘heroic’. Save me the work, and save everyone the heartache.” The grin faded. “Do you … do you remember anything of the surgery?”
Scarlet shook his head. “No. There’s a few days that are blank.” He frowned, concentrating, “I think … the last thing I remember is you had all but rebuilt the ultrasound machine to make it more…” Scarlet waved his hand vaguely. “Powerful?”
“Close enough,” Fawn mused. “That was about four days before the surgery. I had to refine that machine several times. Incidentally, congratulations, you now have your own personal ultrasound machine.”
“Great,” Scarlet muttered. “I hope you never have to use it again, what I remember wasn’t fun. I can’t imagine what I can’t remember was a party, either.”
Fawn sighed. “Nope.” The silence after that stretched for long moments.
“How long are you going to be, uh….”
“In this bed? A couple more days. I’ve got to rest up after the exhaustion, as well as recover from the StimShot. Then I’m being sent groundside for a few weeks to give the parentals and the grands a chance to chew out my butt for this, too.”
Scarlet dredged up a grin. “Well, it’s about time you got some battle scars.”
“No thanks, I’ll leave that to you.” Fawn yawned hugely.
Scarlet stood. “I’ll let you get back to resting. Wouldn’t want you to get in trouble with the doctors, now, would we?”
Fawn was asleep almost before Scarlet had shut the door.