trans_9 | The Hand that Rocks the Cradle (and then cuts off the oxygen)

There were a few patients in Medbay and medical staff attending to their needs, helping to keep them stable.

Some of their conditions were deteriorating rapidly despite it, however.

Elsewhere, someone was doing something a little dastardly that would have terrible consequences on the patients in Medbay.

The lights suddenly went out, leaving emergency flashing on. However, oxygen pumps stopped pumping and life support stopped supporting. There was mechanical equipment and manual equipment to help take their place until the emergency power came back on, but the medical staff would have to act fast to avoid losing their patients.

In the case of anyone in the healing tanks, with the oxygenation turning off, they might lose their patients anyway.

Like a rubber band snapping, as the Melting Clock was destroyed, all the time taken from the affected patients in Medbay was returned in an instant--perhaps just in the nick of time.

Cassie Lang was back in Medbay except this time she was nine years old. She had been born with a heart defect, one they hadn't caught until she was dying from it. And one that was inoperable- unless you were the best cardiologist out there, as Dr. Sondheim had been. When she went missing, Cassie's father became Ant-Man so he could save her and the doctor operated on Cassie.

Unfortunately, no brilliant cardiologist was here, nor was her father for that matter. All they could do was put her on life support and wait for her to deage to an earlier time. Or to be cured and return to normal.

Conner was just as catatonic as before, but also...tinier.

Much smaller now, maybe toddler age.

Rory lifted the child, careful and quiet, trying not to jostle him or move him too fast. "Stacy, soft water. Please, a recording. No animal sounds or music, just soft water. Stream or something." He tucked the warmed blankets around the child, trying to replicate the environment of the tank. Trying to some how give him some sort of comfort. "I'm here, Conner." The words were a soft, a constant litany. It went both ways, didn't it? Conner had asked him to be his dad, and Rory had spent the past few weeks treating Conner like his son. Internalizing the connection. And now his child was slipping away from him. And he couldn't do anything to stop it.

All he could do was force himself to go through the motions, to remember what he'd learned. To try to make the child comfortable, and at the moment he loathed that word. Loathed the implications it held for dealing with the dying. Because he wasn't ready to give up on Conner, not yet. Not now.

Elsewhere, things were happening. Important things, life-saving things, but he was slipping away too fast for those, wasn't he. Slipping away far too fast, losing age right before Rory's eyes.

There was something good that happened during this, though, one shining moment of bright in the dark as Conner started to de-age out of existence.

For just a moment, he passed backwards to when he'd had a developing brain, the time that'd been glossed over for the sake of expediency. It was then, as a tiny child, that he reached up and brushed tiny fingers against Rory's face, exploring it, taking comfort in his sense of touch.

Howard hates nine year-olds only slightly less than he hates little kids. Thankfully, life support is mostly a hands-off sort of job, just making sure Cassie doesn't crash and the systems keep working right. Cassie doesn't really have as much of a chance to do all those child things that make Howard want to run and hide back in his house.

But despite her love for that stupid evil Furby, Howard actually kind of likes Cassie. And he doesn't like dealing with dead people or people on the verge of death. So for once, he's hoping someone around here jumps to a little younger.

That was perhaps worse than a tiny, broken child. Worse to see the baby, the little innocent child that was dying in reverse because someone had been cruel enough to flash age him to the point he'd be useful.

He rocked him, smiling softly and whispering reassurances to the baby. Shifting him to rest in his arms. "I'm here, Conner. I'm not going anywhere." The words were soft, leaning to let the baby explore as much as he wished. "I've got you, Conner." He glanced around the medbay, watching the others rush around trying to get people settled, and turned back to the baby, smiling for him. It was strange to think, strange to let the unwilling thought form. Most children's first memory was their parents holding them and loving them and feeling completely safe in their arms.

It may well be the last thing Conner ever saw and felt.

Edited 2011-06-05 03:41 (UTC)

It was something so simple, an opportunity that presented itself for him to erase a horrible mistake that an alternate self made. All he had to do was make a few minor adjustments, then he would be free.

Once everything was ready, all he did was press a button, then sat back and let out a breath.

Goodbye. Son.

Tim rushed to the Medbay as soon as he'd been told that something was wrong-- he dropped his work, and rushed there quickly, panicked. It was reminiscent of something he'd had nightmares about, that feeling that he didn't have enough time, that maybe if he were just a little bit faster, maybe he'd be able to do something. That if he were just a little bit slower he'd fail someone he loved, all over again. He'd fail his best friend.

Arriving at medical, he quickly made a beeline for Rory and the infant that was his best friend. That might not be his best friend any longer. But he was at least still there-- he didn't know what he could possibly do, but he was still there. "Nurse Williams," he said quickly as he came up behind him, reaching out. "Conner-- is he--" he choked a little, unsure of what he should even be saying. There had to be something he could do.

He was turning from toddler to baby, now in the full flush of having a developing mind, cooing and babbling happily, with no idea of what was to come. Of what he was inching closer and closer towards.

"Tim." He tried to smile, but he knew it came across flat. Knew it wasn't right, but it was the best he could do. "He's fine, for the moment. He's going back faster." Better now, he was reacting again. He bounced the baby gently in his arms, making a face at him as the fingers touched his face. "Do you want to hold him?" The words sounded heavy, painful. Rory looked exhausted, but he was on his feet, and he was obviously set to see this through to the end.

Oh god, Conner. Tim came closer, looking down at the baby, now, that was his friend. He breathed in deeply, feeling his eyes stinging a bit, and he reached up to pull the cowl back, as he came close. No one was really paying much attention to him-- and it was something he felt he had to do, for Conner, right then. While he still had the chance to, anyway. He looked up at Rory at the offer, and managed out a quiet, "Yeah. If that's all right, I'd like that."

The ship memories were still protected, they were still knocking around in a little baby mind that couldn't comprehend them. Feelings, of recognition, of what passed for love for an infant, they were still there, though, associated with certain people, with voices and faces.

Conner made little burbling, bubbly noises when he was handed over, and then, upon seeing Tim's face rise above him, made the most delighted cooing sound.

Hello, Tim. He's very happy to see you.

Rory swallowed, and for a moment they were both holding him, Rory's hands supporting the baby while Tim took him, and then he stepped back, just a little, just enough to give Tim space. He felt like he had swallowed glass. "He knows you. That's good. Means it's not all gone. Hey, Conner, say hello to your brother." The words were soft, and mostly reflexive, hands reaching to tuck the blanket around the baby better. He'd felt like he was going to cry since he'd gotten Conner back to medbay.

Tim glanced up at Rory, someone who was becoming a friend through all this mess, nodding to him as he took the baby into his arms. He was holding his best friend-- someone he'd already lost before, in the past, someone he'd failed-- in his arms. He was careful with him, but it was tempting to just hold him tightly.

He forced himself to smile, though it was weak, down at the little boy in his arms. "Yeah," he managed out, agreeing. "There's still something left." He blinked, trying to get rid of the feeling that he was about to go over the edge, but it didn't really work. He shook his head slightly, then tried to talk again. "Hey Conner," he said, weakly. "You're going to be okay." There had to still be hope. He had to still be able to do something. He couldn't lose him, not again.

There was more happy burbling, and he started to shrink in Tim's arms, getting smaller and smaller, until the burbling got quieter and turned into the almost purr-like noises newborn babies sometimes made.

Then he got smaller. Too small. He was starting to become undersized, the equivalent of a baby born before term, and it was happening quickly.

The little cooing newborn baby noises gave way to crying almost immediately after. He was crying now, as the world started to get uncomfortable, too hot and cold, too bright, too dry. The crying got higher and thinner the younger he got, and then started to get too thin, making it clear his lungs were starting to get underdeveloped.

No, Tim, he wasn't going to be okay.

Rory physically felt his heart stop. He'd felt it once before, but the last time he'd been dying and it'd been rather difficult to register the sensation. Now...now.

"Shit." The word was soft, a curse from someone who rarely bothered to use them. "Stacy! Stacy we need-oh god." He wasn't a neo-natal nurse. It wasn't his job, he wasn't trained for it. The closest he'd come was the maternity ward on occasion. But he wasn't meant for this. This. His voice was suddenly quiet, eyes serious. "Give him to me." He had to be careful, and he had to be calm.

Reacting out of panic would only doom the child and the men who-what? No. No men, there weren't any men, there was only Conner, impossible amazing Conner, who he loved and had to protect. He had to protect. To endure. That was his job. He had to protect. The spike of pain was surely only a result of the stress.

"We'll get him into the life support pods, it will give us a little more time. Get on the com system and find out what they're doing and how much time we have left. He'll be fine for the moment, we can generate an artificial environment until we can finish finding a fix. Shhh, now Conner, it's going to be alright."

Oh god, Conner-- Tim felt a moment of panic hit him, as well, full force, and for a moment he felt sick. He was watching his best friend regress to a point where his life was in such delicate balance. And even if they helped him, he didn't know if it'd make any difference at this point. He'd failed him again, there wasn't really anything he could do--

"I'm sorry Conner," he choked out.

But he had to fight back the fear that he was going to lose him. Because he had to keep trying anyway. He nodded seriously to Rory, passing off the child to him, very carefully-- Tim's medical knowledge was limited, especially compared to Rory. He couldn't do much in a hands on fashion, he could only go back to his position of following commands, operating as an extension and little more.

"Right," he agreed, repressing the emotional state he was feeling himself in. "If we just stabilise him..." He shook his head, pulling out the comm in order to put the message up. They had to be close.

Sakura moved to Cassie's bed, looking over her current readouts. This was the part of the wind-down that people had been fearing, ones where conditions from earlier in life, or the extreme edge of life, brought them into a dangerous position. Ren had hit one before they realized he was affected by the clock as well.

Going back through time had saved him, in a sense. Cassie was in a similar boat, if she wasn't broken necked and non-responsive. Small favors.

With tender care, Stacy helped Rory stabilize Conner, eventually lowering him into one of the Medbay's life support pods. He was a tiny thing in the pod, dwarfed by the size of it.

There was a distinct possibility it'd end where it began, with him floating in a tube, completely unaware of a great wide world beyond it, never again to be excited for tomorrow.

The liquid in the tank wasn't water, so it couldn't necessarily cause a person to drown, but like air, if there wasn't enough oxygen in it, one could suffocate.

The problem was Conner was starting to get too small to be taken out of the tank without some sort of alternative and with the power to medbay mostly down, it would be hard enough even getting him out of the tank without hurting him.

No.

No. No. No. This couldn't be happening. Not now. Not now. "STACY! What's happening! Where are the backups?!" There had to be backups. Had to.

He had to get the tank open, he had to get Conner out of it. But Conner's lungs weren't developed, were slipping backwards by the moment until the child couldn't exist without the life support that. No. Longer. Worked.

"STACY!" His hand beat ineffectively at the tube, deliberately not thinking about the other child. The one that might be in a similar state at the moment.

Conner was going to die while he stood here watching, while he stood waiting, useless, unable to save him from drowning in liquid because he'd drown in the air. "This isn't fair! We almost had it! STACY DO SOMETHING!"

The Hand that Rocks the Cradle (and then cuts off the oxygen)

The Lead-up

The Sabotage [Locked to Lex]

Damage Control

The Clock is Destroyed

Re: The Lead-up

no subject

no subject

no subject

Re: The Lead-up

no subject

Re: The Sabotage [Locked to Lex]

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

Re: The Lead-up

no subject

no subject

no subject