trans_9 | A Slight Misunderstanding

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A Slight Misunderstanding

When they blast down the door to the Medical Wing--and they'll have to, to get in--the group of newly podpopped crew-mates will bear witness to an interesting sight. Several individuals are strapped to med-beds, restrained by insect-looking legs pinning them down. One of those individuals has a cape and domino mask that may be familiar to one of the new crew-members--even if he's older than that crew member last remembers. Medical scans and monitors blip away. There are test tubes and other medical equipment around, including a flask with some sort of nasty gray slug curled at the bottom.

A few individuals are standing around, standing guard, including a girl with a bow and arrows. In the back of the Medical Wing is a woman with a scared-looking little girl.

Sitting on a stool, leaning over a shaggy-haired young man (who appears to have suffered a horrible head wound), is that green-skinned, blonde-haired individual shown by the AIs earlier. Some freaky looking goggles are over his eyes, and a strange and sinister-looking surgical glove, attached to an apparatus on the ceiling and full of rotating micro-lasers and mini-scalpels among other things, is on his hand.

It is, unfortunately, not an image that lends itself to easy interpretation.

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He almost shoves him out of the way with the forcefield. Almost.

But that would start a fight, which would waste time, and while he has no siblings, if it were a Legionnaire and him at their side, he'd be forcibly shoving the other doctor out of the way and overseeing their care himself--he'd practically hovered over Sensor when she was molecularly destabilizing, especially since it was Ra's Al Ghul that'd taken over her care (and he'd watched every move he made).

After plinking away at the holoscreen for a few seconds, and watching the scans, he speaks again, and the sharp tone fades somewhat.

"I'm afraid there's not much more I can say than that your brother will live. He was one of the infested; rather than be taken alive, his Yeerk, a rather sadistic one, I might add, decided to kill your brother as a parting shot. The wound is 'self'-inflicted--the parasite over-rode his motor control and shot him in the temple. The wound was perforating--meaning that it went out the other side. It crossed both hemispheres, damaging most of the frontal lobe, but it was a small caliber projectile, meaning the wound was rather clean. Regardless, perforating head injuries are the worst types of head trauma. His prognosis was much better earlier, but a large clot formed and I had to reopen the wound to remove it. The swelling is significant. I'm regrowing neurons, based off of medical scans I had done earlier and I've managed to stave off infection, but as of yet, I have no idea what his final condition will be. He will be brain-damaged, that much I can assure you."

A deep breath.

"He may never wake up. Alternately--"

Pay attention, Dean, because it's not all doom and gloom.

"--he may be mostly functional. Only time will tell. I'll be able to give you a more accurate prognosis when the edema--when the swelling, that is, subsides. I am monitoring his condition as we speak--his vitals are strong at least, I am registering significant neural regeneration occurring successfully, and I've managed to stem off ischemic cascade--the set of chemical reactions that are something of a domino effect that cause most of the damage in a severe head injury."

A pause.

"In more...simple language, his condition is the best it can be under the circumstances. He has a chance of healing and being somewhat functional, and I am monitoring his condition second-by-second to make minute changes in his treatment to improve that chance, but a chance is all I can promise you. Nothing more definitive than a chance."

All he can give is the truth, but he can give a little hope, too.

Edited 2009-03-21 08:56 (UTC)

Dean does calm down a bit when Brainy's tone isn't quite as sharp, and ordinarily, he wouldn't be so emotional. But it's Sam, and there's nothing that Dean wouldn't do for him. And Dean can't watch Sam die again, and he won't. His protective instincts are stronger than anything else he has, and every bone and muscle and nerve in his body is trained to save Sammy-- if the kid's in danger, everything is wrong, and Dean has to fix it.

Listening to Brainy talk about how damaged Sam is, listening to how Sam may not even wake up again? That's one of the hardest things Dean has ever had to hear, and he's caught between anger and grief, practically shaking from the combination. He knows it's not right to be mad at this green kid, not when he's trying to help and not when he's doing all he can, but it's so hard not to start shouting.

Dean takes a deep breath, and is about to speak, but Brainy continues, with marginally better sounding news. Still, Dean brings a hand to his face, and he rubs at it in exhaustion, suddenly just worn out.

"Right." Dean replies, his voice a bit hoarse. He clears his throat and tries again. "Right, I get it. Just."

He stares down at Sam, and then looks up to Brainy; his voice is incredibly sincere, and this is probably the most emotional anyone will hear him be.

"Just-- try, alright? He's my brother." And his voice is hoarse again, so he has to turn away for a second to compose himself.

Brainiac 5 looks...oddly moved, and at the same time, discomfited by Dean's display of emotion. He's never had a sibling, but he has a large group of people who he's close enough to that some of them might as well be.

"I've been monitoring him and adjusting his medical regimen ever since he entered the Medbay. I don't require sleep for significantly long periods of time if necessary; I will monitor him for as long as I'm physically capable."

He doesn't know how to do reassurance. Not really. He certainly doesn't do false promises. But he can promise that he'll be using that twelfth-level intellect of his, without pause, for as long as it takes to make Sam better--at least as much as he can make him better.

Dean rubs his face again, and while he's dry-eyed now, there's no telling what'll happen in the next however long it takes for Sam to be okay. Dean's sure as hell not moving, and he's not going to sleep, either, not until his body makes him.

"... Thanks." Dean says, a bit more under control. "If there's something I can do, tell me. I'll do it, no questions asked."

He may not be able to do anything like Brainiac, but he's willing to do anything to keep his brother safe. So he settles himself next to the bed, and promises himself he won't sleep unless he really, really has to.

Nathan wasn't happy about Sam smashing him in the face. But the guy wasn't himself at the time, and it really didn't look good for him. He remembered hearing something similar after Peter had collasped in Odessa, and those long two weeks at his bedside.

He approached Dean and remarked in a quieter tone, "He's your younger brother right? Mine's named Peter. Listen, you need anything, just say the word."

Dean blinks at Nathan, and while he looks sort of blank, he's listening. When Nathan's finished, Dean gives half a nod, and then glances back at his brother. His voice is low.

"Yeah, he is," Dean replies. "Thanks. I'll let you know."

He probably won't, because he's a stubborn mule, but he's being polite. Ish.

Nathan was the same way so he just said, "I'll bring something by later. Only serve slop around here unfortunately." He thinks of it as month old food rations from his time in the military.

Dean doesn't answer for a second; he's distracted. But if Sam's life wasn't potentially in danger, he'd be a lot more friendly. Big brothers need to bond, after all. But the word slop catches his attention, and he spares Nathan a look.

"Slop? Really?" Dean is still enough of his regular self to look disgruntled. "No cheeseburgers?"

Nathan remarked with a grimace in return, definitely missing burgers himself, "No, just that. Ship doesn't have specials. I'll show you where the cafeteria sometime."

"Right. After..." Dean pauses, and trails off, looking back to Sam. "After this."

He heaves a sigh, and it's back to his low tone of voice. "So you got a little brother, too?"

"Yeah."

Nathan found a seat nearby.

"Yeah. About 12 years younger than me. Peter. Hasn't shown up yet." Trying not to think of his brother still stuck sleeping in a pod somewhere and no way to free him.

"Twelve years, huh? That's a pretty big gap." Dean shifts in his seat-- the clothes he's wearing suck and are uncomfortable. "He a pain in the ass?"

Nathan's about as used to the plantsuit as anybody can be to something planty that pulses.

"Definitely. Often had to pull his ass out of the fire a number of times."

Dean manages half a grin, and rubs his eyes. "I know how that is. Sammy's got himself into all sorts of trouble. Always gotta get him out of it."

It's said as fondly as Dean gets, though.

Nathan shook his head, and chuckled, equally fond as he thought of Peter, "Don't know what it is. Always got head up in the clouds most of the time. Not even looking where they're going."

Oh hello irony see what you did there?

Dean snorts. "You got that right. And it's always our job to pull them back down."

Oh, Dean can relate with that irony, most definitely. Selling his soul? Yeah, that falls under that category.

Silence, then: "You guys close?"

"Yeah. Always been there to protect him.". Even from himself sometimes or as it seems.

"Sounds like me and Sam. Since we were real small. Had to watch him when our Dad went out." Dean's voice is quiet, and his face is turned away from Nathan's. It's times like these he really thinks emotions suck.

They really can, and Nathan knew it well. All that time with Peter missing somewhere, only going by his instincts to guess that he was still alive.

"Yeah, kept close contact even when I was away at school. Our Dad... he didn't pay much attention to him." Just to Nathan, the Golden Boy.

Wow, they're more alike than Dean thought. Though he wishes he could've kept contact with Sam while he'd been at school.

"Yeah, our dad either." Dean says, looking irritated. "Sam was a rebel kid, and Dad didn't like that."

Nathan was surprised at that as well, of being the father's favorite.

"Yeah, Peter didn't want to go to law school, and well, our dad was more disappointed in him. I was there for Pete more than him."

That actually makes Dean laugh, even though he knows it's probably inappropriate. But it's not his fault, because law school? That's irony.

"Sam was the one who wanted to go to law school. He left the... family business." Dean pauses, and runs a hand through his hair. "I woulda been there, but he left without much of a goodbye."

Irony loves company too?

Nathan was surprised more, and eyed the laugh.

"Law is our family business. What's yours?"

Dean flashes him a grin that's not all that real.

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

Nathan just shrugged at that.

"Maybe." He then flashed a toothy politician grin back.

"Care to bet?"

His feet started lifting from the ground again.

A Slight Misunderstanding

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