trans_9 | Med Bay: Part Two

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Med Bay: Part Two

With the end of Quarantine, all of the patients who'd been kept in the bubbles had been released (with the exception of those that Medical felt weren't safe to release), and brought back to the Med Bay proper. Some of them might leave, with family or friends to look after them, but others might remain in the Med Bay. Others still were only just arriving, their loss of time not discovered until after Quarantine had ended.

But regardless of whether the affected were staying in the Med Bay or leaving, until this crisis was solved, Medical would continue to check up on the them.

[[ooc: Just make whatever threads you'd like to have set in med bay guys, and feel free to use this post for all Med Bay stuff for the rest of the plot. Just make sure to mark whether your thread is open, closed, or just for a particular group of people, e.g. Medical staff]]

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He didn't respond immediately, his eyes still unfocused, as if he was looking right through her.

"Your accent," he muttered, though now, despite barely moving a muscle, it was clear he was looking at her. Or, at least, his eyes were tracking the hazy blob of colors and shadow that he assumed were her. "It's interesting."

It wasn't often that someone met a Pakistani Brit.

Well, that he was tracking was a start. That was better than he had been doing.

"My parents are from Pakistan, originally." She had no problem telling the story. "I was born and raised in Essex. England." Though there were some who didn't know where England was, either. "I'm bilingual in English and Urdu, which probably has a lot to do with my accent. Where are you from?" Keeping him talking was probably good. At least he wasn't fighting right now.

Even among the people who he knew and trusted the most, where he's originally from was never a topic he ever wanted to discuss. He turned his head away from her slightly to examine another part of the medbay.

"Yeh mani nahi rakhta," was his somewhat distracted response, which meant (when roughly translated from Urdu) it doesn't matter.

"I didn't know anybody else on the ship spoke the language." Faiza watched him, frowning slightly. "And at the moment, I'll agree with you. It doesn't matter unless it affects treatment. Then I might put my foot down."

So far, so good. "You didn't answer my earlier question. How is the pain right now, scale of one to ten?"

"You never..." he trailed off, already starting to zone out again. He was staring off at nothing in particular, though this time there was a soft golden glow to his eyes.

"Never...

"never... tried...

"to..."

"Hey! Which one of you is the Exia's pilot?" The red headed girl had suddenly asked the question, catching everyone off guard. "Is it you?"

"No, its not me," Tieria responded immediately, a not so subtle hint of disgust in his voice.

"No, I am," Setsuna stated as he joined the group...

The glow took her aback slightly, but only because she hadn't seen mention of it in his file. She made mental note to add something about it later so that the others could watch for it, then dropped her hand to his wrist to take his pulse.

Yes, the ship already did that, but it had the added effect of solid touch, in case that was what Setsuna needed.

"I'm the Exia's Gundam Meister. My name is Setsuna F. Seiei."

"I heard about you! You're that bitchin crazy Meister," the girl replied excitedly as she approached him. "I think that's great! I love that about you~"

Considering how violent and lonely the life of this sixteen year old had been up to this point, things live love, crushes, and relationships were all foreign concepts to him. So much so that he could only stand there surprised at what this strange girl, someone he had literally just met, had said. The girl took advantage of that shock and leaned in, and began to shove her tongue down his throat.

Once the initial momentary shock of that wore off, he had felt so violated right then. And he responded the only way he knew how.

He swung his arm, and even through the restraints caught him before he might've hit Faiza, he still used so much force that it rocked the bed. "Don't touch me!" he shouted, his eyes glowing brightly as he struggled against his bonds like some kind of wild animal.

She could force him still, but it wouldn't help his mental state.

Instead, she switched to Urdu. If he was anything like her, he was used to hearing English or at least another language on an every day basis. Perhaps another language would help break him out. "Mr. Seiei, please calm yourself. You are in no danger here. Remember, you are in the medical bay of the Transmigration 9."

She did take her hand away from his wrist, watching his vital stats fluctuate. She really didn't like the look of all this.

His rage subsided after several seconds, replaced by confusion as the glow in his eyes faded and reality came crashing back in. It took a few more seconds for him to calm down, and reorient himself.

The confusion finally gave way to realization. He didn't look at Faiza, or respond to her, though he knew she was there. He seemed embarrassed, and to a certain degree, he was, but he was more afraid of what was happening to him.

She gave him a few moments once he'd calmed, recording a few things on the chart so that she would be able to remember them and so that any other medical personnel would know what to look for. She also did a search though the vitals recordings and made note of a few places where there were similar reactions or worse.

Finally, she looked back to him. "I won't ask what you saw. That's your business and I'm not going to pry. But is it happening often?"

He pulled lightly against the restraints, as if he needed to verify that they were, in fact, there. Resigned to this particular reality, he laid his head back against the pillow, staring up at the ceiling.

"Often enough."

She frowned, pursing her lips. "Judging from scans, I could guess." Not that he probably wanted to hear that, but she knew what she was reading. "Do they often elicit that sort of physical response?"

"Depends." On the memory, at least. And he didn't exactly have a whole bunch of pleasant ones to experience all over again.

"My life hasn't been very peaceful."

She gave him a sympathetic look. No pity. She tried not to do pity, after all. "And then you get dumped here, which isn't exactly peaceful, either."

Faiza shook her head. "I'm sorry about the restraints, but until we get a handle on what's happening or it sorts itself out, I'm not sure we can really forgo them." He had visitors, after all, and she was certain he didn't want to hurt them.

He closed his eyes, though he hadn't gone back to sleep yet.

"No more drugs." That wasn't a request, either. "They won't be necessary." It was, in part, a lie. He was persistently hitting a seven on the pain scale (which had briefly shot up to a nine when all the moving around aggravated things) but he felt like his mind was in a deep fog. Whatever it was that his brain was trying to sort out, he decided the drugs weren't helping.

She frowned at that for a moment, then nodded. "All right. I won't press any drugs on you. If, for whatever reason, you change your mind, I can offer a pain killer without sedative." It was his choice and he was lucid enough to make his own decisions, in her opinion. She wouldn't take it from him.

"I won't." Once he made his mind up about something, he could be remarkably stubborn about it. "I just..."

...just what, though, he didn't know. It was like there was something sitting on the tip of his tongue, but he couldn't just get it across. Was this the Ohm's way of trying to tell him something?

He let out a small noise of either frustration or resignation, quietly truncating that unfinished line of thought.

Even if she didn't know what he meant to say, Faiza nodded and gave his arm a squeeze. "I'll make note on your chart saying that you've requested no drugs be administered," she said. "Which will work for medical. But if you get too violent, Stacy may do it herself. I'll try to keep that from happening."

He tensed when she squeezed his arm. He understood that it was meant as a reassuring gesture, but that earlier outburst didn't come from nowhere. He really didn't like it when someone touched him.

"Roger that," was all he quietly said in response. And unless the good doctor had any further questions for him, he was going to rest quietly for a while.

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Med Bay: Part Two

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