((A huge THANK YOU to Cyrus and Rhiannon's player for the amazing role play done in the Inn last night. Thank you both for the excellent play! It was an honor!))
BANG! The bullet left the barrel of the 9mm and found a new home deep in the gut of the woman it had been aimed at. The shooter's deep voice growled to the two men holding the woman's arms, suspending her between them, her head slumped forward as pain shot through her body, "Get...rid of her. Take her to the portal. I don't want to see her here again, you know what to do."
The sound of those receding footsteps were the last thing she would hear on her world as the butt of a gun came down to crack her skull and her lights went out.
An hour and a half later....
She barely made it to the porch, her unsteady gait weaving her towards the Inn, and took up a lean on one of the posts. Her head was swimming, her eyes unfocused.
Cyrus Merrick came in from the door to the Arena, crystal-blue eyes scanning around for a moment over the empty Inn. Damn...no drinkin' company tonight, I guess. Seeing as there was no one there, he opted to head straight for the door to the street, intending on heading home. Pushing through, he caught sight of the woman leaning against one of the posts at the base of the stairs leading to the street. An eyebrow arched slightly as he looked her over, coming down the steps, and paused, frowning slightly. Lord, she looks like she's had a few too many. "Excuse me, miss? Are you okay?"
All he got in response at first was a groan. She sounded like she was suffering some ill effects from a bad bottle of tequila. "I'm.." labored breathing caused the pause, "..fine." The words were no sooner spoken then she doubled over, her hand shot out, slapping down onto one of the Inn steps to catch herself from landing on the ground, her breathing hitching in her chest.
"Whoa there..." He was quick, moving to catch her as she slumped, one hand reaching down to catch her under the arm as she reached for the steps, kneeling as she went down to try to keep her steady as he let out a chuckle. "Yeah, you look fine, all right." Gently, he went to help her up, trying his best to stay out of the way from where her head was turned in case she was going to throw up on him. "Come on, let's get you inside...looks like you need to lay down and sleep it off."
As he made to catch her and tried to help her up, the elbow of the arm that had landed on the step to keep her from falling came up to shove him away. "I said...I was..fine." When she moved that hand from the step to shove him away, there was a bloodied handprint left on the porch step.
He was about to stand back and let her handle herself. Some people just wouldn't take help when they were drunk, and she looked like the type that would throw a fist in her current state, and he had no desire to get into a brawl with someone so intoxicated, woman or no. That was what he thought, until he saw that handprint left behind on the porch, and his eyes widened as he let out a curse. Now the scent of blood registered to his senses, and all trace of amusement left him like a Grunt after their leader was killed. "No, you're not, you're bleeding like a stuck pig..." He didn't wait for her to acknowledge this, instead stooping down to slip an arm behind her knees and bringing the other one around her shoulders, hoisting her up as though she weighed no more than a feather pillow. Turning, he started back up the stairs to the door. Let her try to fight him, she'd have as much effect as if she were hitting a wall. Long, hurried strides had him to the door and he turned to push it open with a shoulder, taking care not to hit her head as he went through and headed for the bar.
As she was lifted off of her feet, the blood pulsed through her veins as she mustered every bit of adrenaline she had with the determination to fight off being man-handled like this, but instead her pain receptors spiked and she hunched further into the cradled position he had her in, the sudden jolt of pain causing her to reach out and grab one of the muscled arms that held her in a firm grip, gritting her teeth against the pain as the intake of breath caused a hiss as it was sucked through clenched teeth to find her lungs. Her other arm was clutching her abdomen, a slight shaking as her body started going into shock from the loss of blood, her vision wavering in and out as she fought to stay conscious. She didn't know this place, she didn't know this man that held her, and she couldn't let her guard down no matter how serious the situation. She had wandered around this strange place for close to an hour trying to find a hospital with no luck.
She should be grateful for the man, but too many years working with a bunch of men on the force and dealing with the scummiest of criminals on a daily basis, the sex as a whole had only ever proven that the majority couldn't be trusted. As far as she was concerned, this one was no different. She wasn't stupid, she needed help, but remaining conscious was a necessity until she knew his intentions. As he hauled her inside, she allowed her eyes to sqeeze tight against the pain for the hopefully short journey as her jaw remained clenched to keep her from cursing. "Where....are..you..", the shallowed breaths rattled in her chest, her body beginning to tremble a bit more from the shock, "..taking me?"
He winced as he heard her sharp intakes of breath. He'd been shot before - more than once - and knew just what she was going through. It was not a pleasant experience by any means. "First, I'm taking you to get the bleeding stopped, then I'm getting you an ambulance." Reaching the bar, he laid her - very carefully - on the countertop, not caring if she bled all over it. Gotta get the bleeding stopped first...
Rounding the counter, he reached down to a pocket as he went for the first aid kit, extracting from it his comm-link. Snagging the first aid kit from under the counter with his other hand, he came right back to where she was laid out and started looking her over as he set the kit down and the comm device next to it, flipping the former open. Not seeing anything immediate, he reached for the jacket to pull it open, searching for where the blood was coming from. Talk to her, man. Stay calm, try to keep her conscious and alert. His voice was cool, calm and professional as he spoke to her. "Try to relax and stay with me. What's your name?" Even as he looked he was already pulling out gauze pads and tape.
Her hand was clutched at her side, the gunshot wound to her abdomen had seeped blood through her black cotton undershirt, the inside of the leather jacket soaked as well. As she was laid on the bar, her back arching slightly as another jolt of pain shot through her body, popping her eyes open and causing her jaw to fall slack as she let out a strained grunt. The sudden movement had caused the bullet to shift and bury deeper into her gut. Her head fell back on the bar she was laying on, her chin up but her eyes darting over to meet his. She closed her jaw, breathing heavily through her nose as she pinned him with those piercing eyes, the look behind them stubborn and steadfast. She knew what he was doing...first rule when treating a serious injury, keep the victim conscious and talking. Which is exactly what she wanted as well so she would cooperate.
A flutter of blinking lashes and few quickened deep breaths later she managed to utter, "Ronnie. Name's..Ronnie." That's all she was able to get out before her body began to tremble harder from the shock. She broke the gaze between them as her eyes rolled up into her head and she turned her face away, fighting her blurring vision, reminding herself to just keep breathing...keep breathing.
She needed help and he was all she had. If she didn't cooperate she would die in this place. That wasn't an option. She had to get back to her world. She had to find him and pay him back for what he did to her...to her family. She needed to stay alive.
He managed to keep control of his facial expressions as he located the wound, a sharp spike of adrenaline adding an edge to the sudden worry threading its way into his mind. Abdominals were the worst wounds to have.
"All right, Ronnie. I need to lift up your shirt so I can get a look at the wound." His tone made it clear that he wasn't going to take no for an answer. Very carefully he lifted the shirt up, just past the wound, and looked. Gunshot, looked like a handgun caliber, anywhere from a nine millimeter to a .45 caliber. He knew it straight off - he'd seen enough of them that there was no doubt in his mind.
Suppressing the urge to swear, he snatched up a thick stack of the gauze pads and pressed them hard against the wound, holding his hand there as he reached for the comm with his other and tapped it. "Layla, I need you to access the city communication grid. Emergency services. Tell them there's a woman here at the Inn that has an abdominal gunshot wound. We need an ambulance here like yesterday."
Looking back at the gauze under his hand, he noticed that it was already starting to soak through, and he immediately got another stack of them and pressed them on top of what he was already holding in place, wincing at the amount of pressure he was applying but knowing there wasn't a choice. Pressure was the key to stopping the bleeding. He spoke in an apologetic tone as he looked at her. "Sorry, I know this can't be comfortable for you."
Her head rocked back to look at him, her eyes glazed but the fire behind them showing the will of the woman refusing to give in to her body's attempt to shut down. Her teeth were chattering from the shakes as a sheen of sweat formed on her brow. The deep lines cutting into her forehead a telling sign of the pain she was trying to keep from screaming out. She shook her head at him. "Not.." a sputtering cough sending another spike of pain through her body with the movement, "..so bad." Her eyes rolled back into her head again as she turned her face away, her eyes sqeezing tight to the searing pain. Must...stay...concious.
At that moment, Rhiannon Brock came out of the kitchen with a bowl of food in hand. One dark brow lowered as she eyed Cyrus and the woman he was apparently doing wound care on. "The hell happened to her!?" It wasn't exactly the time for pleasantries.
He chuckled at the woman's protestation that it wasn't that bad, though it sounded grim to his own ears. He had to admire the woman's spirit, that was for sure. He'd seen full-grown men scream like little girls with this kind of wound in them. "Yeah, right." He managed to suppress the worried look as he saw her trembling.
Hell, she's going into shock...
Reaching out, he grabbed her hand by the wrist with the one not already holding the gauze in place and brought it to the wound, pressing it in his hand's place hard. "You need to hold this." He spoke in a firm but calm manner, and only let go of her hand once he was sure she had it. Starting to turn away to go and get a blanket, he spied Rhiannon coming in.
Thank God... The thought ran through his mind as he answered the younger girl, keeping his tone calm and even despite the steadily growing panic trying to rear its ugly head. "She's been shot. I found her on the porch like this." He managed to keep his voice under control as he spoke, if only just. "She's lost a lot of blood and she's going into shock. I was just going to get her a blanket." And then he remembered...Rhiannon knew magic. "I...I don't suppose you could..." He looked between Rhiannon and Ronnie, as some of the worry finally made its presence known in his voice.
Rhiannon set the bowl on the counter, jotted a note in her family's account in the ledger book, and snagged a bottle of whiskey along with a glass and clean cloth. "Linen closet, foot of the stairs, Cyrus. Blankets, pillows, et cetera." She filled the glass with whiskey, crouched, and offered it to the wounded woman. "It won't cure you, but if your body refuses the help I can offer, it'll knock back some of the pain."
He didn't say anything, and was already moving as she spoke to go and raid the linen closet. Good thing she'd told him about that, because he was about to go and break into the first room he came to and steal the linens off a bed, no matter if someone was sleeping in it or not. He didn't even bother with picking out a single blanket, just reached in with both hands and grabbed everything he could hold at once, and came back with an armful of blankets and a couple of pillows, more than what was probably necessary.
"You disinfect this thing already?" Rhi asked Cyrus. She had brought the whiskey bottle along and the clean cloth was set on top of it.
Her gaze lazily following the sound of the newcomer, once those piercing eyes found her they were sure and steady even while fighting unconsciousness, but a bit of fear was seeping through now. She had lost and was still losing too much blood, death had its grip on her throat and was choking her slowly and painfully. Her eye darted to the glass before they were pinned back on the woman. She managed a nod and mustering all the strength she could manage to lift her head enough to take the offering. Some of the whiskey made it past her trembling lips, she stayed as steady as possible, taking in as much of it as she could before the muscles in her neck refused to cooperate with the commands of her mind and her head made to lay back onto the bar. Her eyes staring up into the rafters.
He shook his head as he dropped the blankets on the counter, along with the pillows, and as the woman - Ronnie, he remembered, the name running through his head repeatedly - lifted her head to take the drink he slipped the pillow under it, just before she laid her head back down. "No, I was just trying to stop the bleeding for a moment until I could get her a ride to the clinic."
Rhi reached to support Ronnie's head while she drank. That last thing they needed was for her to choke. Rhiannon's hands had a warm feeling to them. Some found it comforting, but those adverse to magic or divine gifts often found it unsettling. "You could have taken her downstairs. Possibly stopped the bleeding in the rings. It's a myth that they only work on wounds incurred within them."
The pain reverberated through her body with each wave of shock through her, the feel of death on her neck gripping her with fear, her eyes welled up, a single drop slidding past the outside corner and slipping down her temple. Her breathing becoming more and more shallow with each passage of air into and out of her lungs. As the woman reached to bring her head back to the glass to drink, there was a warmth that radiated at the point of contact, relieving some of the tension in her muscles there. She was able to take a few more trembling sips before having to turn away. It didn't take long for the effects of the liquor to start easing some of the tension from the rest of her but she was still shaking from the shock her body was trying to go into.
That last question from Rhiannon got another head shake. "Didn't think of that...I was always taught that you move a gunshot wound victim as little as possible." He was mentally kicking himself for not having thought of that, actually. He'd been here a while, true, but training kicked in and made him forget that such things were a possibility. Mental note for next time...hopefully there won't be one, if she survives this. Reaching for one of the blankets, he shook it out a bit and went to cover her upper body with it, trying to keep her warm while keeping the wound clear of obstructions so Rhiannon could work.
"Did you clean the wound or just stanch the blood flow?" She asked Cyrus as she tested the waters by releasing a bit more of her healing energies flow to see Ronnie's reaction to it. Providing she reacted postively, the pain level could go from eased off to nonexistant. "Standard methods aren't always the best when faced with life and death." If it was adverse, the pain could remain as it was or severely increase.
Cyrus had to remind himself that Rhiannon was trying to help and not to lose his temper. He felt like he was being lectured. "No, just trying to get the bleeding stopped. I was trained in field first aid - the basic philosophy is to keep the bleeding under control and shock from setting in until you can get them to a real doctor, or at least a medic..." He'd probably forgotten more about field first aid than most people in this town would ever know, and yet she was making him feel like a rank amateur.
Her eyes were squeezed tight against the pain as a new wave of it crested and crashed through her body but was almost immediately followed by a warmer wave that seemed to ebb away the throbbing trail of the previous one. She could feel her body tremors slowing and her muscles gets some release from the clenching grip of pain. She figured that must have been some pretty strong alcohol the woman had offered. With each drawn breath, the tension creasing her brow and stiffening her body began to wane a little too rapidly but she wasn't about to complain or question it.
"You sound like my sister. She's a combat medic for a flight squadron." Once she felt Ronnie's body relaxing, she started to move the glass away. "I think you've had enough of that for now," she murmured as she slowly lowered her hand to help ease Ronnie's head onto a pillow. Rhi took a deep breath and sarted looking over the gunshot wound. "Might not be the most recommended by medical professionals, but in Rhydin the most readily available disinfectant and all purpose medicinal tool is whiskey."
He managed a strained chuckle at that. "That I did know. I wasn't really looking to stitch her up, though, just keep her stable." His brow furrowed, just slightly, then. "I didn't see an exit wound, though..."
Her lips pursed as she studied the wound. Her hands worked along with her smart mouth. "No exit ... that's not good. You check her back or ... consider that it wasn't an ordinary bullet?" She starting cleaning the wound with a whiskey dampened cloth.
She picked the beam in the ceiling to focus on, her vision becoming less hazy and sharper with each pulse of warmth through her body. Her lids were getting heavy but she forced them to stay open, blinking and refocusing, the large swallow of air she was able to take in didn't register, nor did anything from her neck down. She realized at that point that she felt no pain but she couldn't feel anything they were doing either. A new fear gripped her mind as those eyes left the ceiling rafters to dart down to where she had been shot. She hadn't even noticed the blanket that had been lain across her. The woman was obviously cleaning the gunshot wound but had she not been watching this now with her own eyes she wouldn't have known. She couldn't find her voice. The scene before her played out as if it were someone else's body. She let her head fall back on the pillow. Had the bullet moved or shifted again? Paralyzing her? Why couldn't she feel anything? Or was her body already being turned over to the Reaper, the work of the two hovering over her in vain? Was this the final stage and her mind was only savoring its last few moments of consciousness before it too died along with the body? As these thoughts swam in her head she tried to remain calm.
He twitched his head at the wound, still clearly visible. "That wound was caused by anything from a nine millimeter to a .45 caliber bullet." He'd seen enough of them to know what one looked like. "An exit wound from that would be easy to spot, and I didn't feel one when I checked her. If I had to guess, it wasn't anything special, but without digging it out I couldn't tell you for sure, and I sure wasn't about to try that."
"Right. Where do you feel most comfortable, Cyrus? Civilian or military facilities ... or somewhere in the middle?" Rhiannon was checking the current blood flow from Ronnie's wound. "My needlework isn't half bad, but I think the best thing is to temporarily cauterise this and get her moved while she's fairly stable and out of pain. You have a light source on you?" Her brows furrowed.
He nodded and reached into one of the many pockets on his BDU pants, extracting a penlight from it and handing it over. "Honestly, I don't care, as long as they know what they're doing and it's close. I was trying to get an ambulance for her, but I don't know if there even is something like that here." Layla had never gotten back to him either, which meant she probably hadn't found anything that would have been useful. He was almost tempted to have her wake up Andreas and have him fly the Pelican out to him so they could load her in that and get her to the infirmary on his ship at this point.
The conversation batting between the two was garbled. Her mind already filled with the fears of her inability to move along with the exhaustion creeping in threatening to take over put her lights out for good. A relief she would welcome if she wasn't such a control freak. Even in her current situation she refused to let her body shut her down just yet when rationally it was what she should allow to happen, especially given that these two were obviously trying to help her.
"There is, but unless you know who or where to call, you could be all day at it. If you have a cell on you, you can ask for Riverview or Rhydin General. Those are publicly available." She nodded her thanks for the penlight and rested her fingers on the skin around the wound, she spread it slightly. Using the penlight she was able to get a better idea of where the bullet was resting. She grunted. "Oh.. yeah. I can see residue and sense metal, but it's in her gut. Too deep for my fingers to catch. I can keep it from moving, but a surgeon is going to have to get it out." She handed him back the light. "Thanks. I doubt this lady wants her business known by the general public, so, we're going to take her over to friend's place. There's a doctor on call for his employees. You heard of Ed Batten?"
The only movement from her was of her eyes watching the tennis match of a conversation between the two as they decided what they were going to do with her. She couldn't just lay there like an invalid allowing two strangers to decide what to do with her, she could at least weigh in on the situation to let them know she was still conscious and listening. Taking another lung full of air, she opened her mouth and the strained voice that came out didn't quite sound like her own but it would do, "Do...what you...can. Stabilize the bullet...get me to a surgeon. Get this thing out of me."
He took the light back and pocketed it, nodding to the question. "Yeah, of course. Katt's brother, right? She mentioned him to me when I first arrived here, said he might be able to help me with some stuff." He arched an eyebrow. "Didn't know he had that sort of operation, though. But if he can help, I'm all for it."
Sounded just peachy to her. She couldn't hold on much longer. She took a couple more deep breaths before pinning first Cyrus then Rhiannon with that piercing look, "And for God's sakes...someone...please knock me out." An odd request given how hard she had been fighting for the last several minutes to stay conscious but her gut feeling, the one housed where the hole currently was, told her neither of these two meant her harm and the best thing for her to do right now was give in to the darkness, but her mind wasn't letting her shut down.
"Yeah, Katt's brother." She looked at Ronnie. "Easy, we're trying to help you." She got to the business of creating a sort of bubble around the bullet and closing the wound for the time being. Her fingers felt like hot water pressing against Ronnie's skin. "Like I said, that's not public." She eyed Ronnie and tipped her head to the whiskey for Cyrus. "Give her more, please." It wouldn't exactly be the whiskey knocking the woman out, but Rhi wasn't going to tell her that.
"Right. Don't worry, I'm not gonna be telling anyone." He nodded and reached for the bottle and the glass, pouring a couple fingers into the glass and setting the bottle aside. Reaching out, he settled a hand under her head and lifted so she could drink without choking. "Here, drink this...it'll help you rest." He hoped.
It wouldn't be long before Ronnie was oblivious to anything but her dreams. Once the wound was closed at skin bridge, Rhi cleaned her hands again with the whiskey. "You got this? I'm going to make a call and get someone over here."
She looked up at Cyrus, relief in her eyes at the coming promise of being able to just let go as her now steady lips met the glass and she began to drink. Slowly at first then more. Her eyes never leaving his as she drank. Her lids getting a bit heavier with each passing sip but not wavering in their gaze.
He nodded, reaching for the blanket and tugging it down to cover the woman the rest of the way. "Yeah, I got this. Just make sure they know I'm gonna be sticking around 'till I'm sure she's gonna be all right." Catching Ronnie's gaze, he gave her what he hoped was a reassuring smile, holding that gaze as he tilted his head at Rhi. "Let me know when they're on the way, I'll meet them outside."
He made sure the whiskey was downed before he laid her head back on the pillow again, and for the first time, he noticed that she was, even in this state...rather good-looking. Beautiful, in fact. Some distant part of his mind noted with a hint of surprise that it was the first time he'd thought of any woman that way for the past few weeks.
Rhiannon stood and seemed to be sending a text on a cellphone, but the reality was, she was tapping into DIANA's resources and making her request. She tipped her head and keyed in something else before saying, "ETA ten minutes, barring traffic issues."
The fire from the whiskey registered in her throat but it ebbed away when she refused to stop, wanting the sweet release of unconsciousness enough to drown herself in the stuff if necessary, and she finished the glass with that sweet purpose in mind. She never wavered in her gaze as she drained the glass. As he lowered her head back onto the pillow her eyes darted to Rhiannon then came back to lock on Cyrus. She didn't know who they were but if she it out of this alive, she would owe both of them her life. A slow blink as the whiskey was well on its way into her bloodstream. As her lids growing rapidly heavier, the last thing she remembered seeing was Cyrus looking down at her.
"I can wait with you if you like, but I sent them your picture so they know exactly who to pick up," Rhiannon said.
Her lips parted, the thanks she owed these two strangers was immeasurable, Another even slower blink before she got one last look at the man standing over her, "Thank yo..." The last word trailing off as she was finally released from reality and slipping into dreams.
He shook his head, only briefly lifting it up to look around at Rhi. The adrenaline of the situation was wearing off, and even he was getting a little tired, but he'd hold on until they got here. "No, I've got this. Go on home."
The crystal-blue eyes swept over to Ronnie's face again as she said those last barely breathed words, a faint smile pulling at his features as he made sure she was really out and not dead, reaching to press two fingers against her wrist a moment. Her pulse was still there, faint and thready, but still going. Then he looked back at Rhi. "And...thanks."
He made a note to himself that he owed the girl one. If she hadn't come along, this might've ended very differently.
"Glad to help. I just wish I could have gotten her name and met her under better circumstances. Keep her warm." By the time Rhi was heading out the door, she could hear the sound of a vehicle coming down the street where the Inn was.
He barely registered the sound of the approaching vehicle, he was too busy watching Ronnie, making sure she kept breathing. She was rather striking, but he forced those thoughts from his mind. For all he knew, she was some kind of criminal, or worse. A part of him hoped it wasn't so, but given recent events and his luck overall in that area, he steeled himself for the worst.
When the personnel from Batten's company came in with a gurney, he stood back to let them do their work, watching as they checked her vitals, the wound, and finally hoisted her onto the gurney and carted her outside. There was not so much as an instant in which he hesitated to follow them. Whatever she was, his first instinct was a protective one, as he was the one that found her like this, and he felt obligated to at least be sure she was okay. Judgements could be held until later, after she was taken care of and he could talk to her again.
Fortunately, neither of the medics tried to stop him from climbing into the transport with her, and as soon as the rear hatch was closed the vehicle took off at top speed. It wasn't long before it stopped again - somewhere between five and ten minutes, he reckoned - and the rear door opened so they could get Ronnie out on the gurney again. He was careful to stay out of the way as they took her out and wheeled her in, and, again, without any hesitation whatsoever, he followed along after them as they took the woman in through a side entrance to the medical facilities within the building which towered above them.
BANG! The bullet left the barrel of the 9mm and found a new home deep in the gut of the woman it had been aimed at. The shooter's deep voice growled to the two men holding the woman's arms, suspending her between them, her head slumped forward as pain shot through her body, "Get...rid of her. Take her to the portal. I don't want to see her here again, you know what to do."
The sound of those receding footsteps were the last thing she would hear on her world as the butt of a gun came down to crack her skull and her lights went out.
An hour and a half later....
She barely made it to the porch, her unsteady gait weaving her towards the Inn, and took up a lean on one of the posts. Her head was swimming, her eyes unfocused.
Cyrus Merrick came in from the door to the Arena, crystal-blue eyes scanning around for a moment over the empty Inn. Damn...no drinkin' company tonight, I guess. Seeing as there was no one there, he opted to head straight for the door to the street, intending on heading home. Pushing through, he caught sight of the woman leaning against one of the posts at the base of the stairs leading to the street. An eyebrow arched slightly as he looked her over, coming down the steps, and paused, frowning slightly. Lord, she looks like she's had a few too many. "Excuse me, miss? Are you okay?"
All he got in response at first was a groan. She sounded like she was suffering some ill effects from a bad bottle of tequila. "I'm.." labored breathing caused the pause, "..fine." The words were no sooner spoken then she doubled over, her hand shot out, slapping down onto one of the Inn steps to catch herself from landing on the ground, her breathing hitching in her chest.
"Whoa there..." He was quick, moving to catch her as she slumped, one hand reaching down to catch her under the arm as she reached for the steps, kneeling as she went down to try to keep her steady as he let out a chuckle. "Yeah, you look fine, all right." Gently, he went to help her up, trying his best to stay out of the way from where her head was turned in case she was going to throw up on him. "Come on, let's get you inside...looks like you need to lay down and sleep it off."
As he made to catch her and tried to help her up, the elbow of the arm that had landed on the step to keep her from falling came up to shove him away. "I said...I was..fine." When she moved that hand from the step to shove him away, there was a bloodied handprint left on the porch step.
He was about to stand back and let her handle herself. Some people just wouldn't take help when they were drunk, and she looked like the type that would throw a fist in her current state, and he had no desire to get into a brawl with someone so intoxicated, woman or no. That was what he thought, until he saw that handprint left behind on the porch, and his eyes widened as he let out a curse. Now the scent of blood registered to his senses, and all trace of amusement left him like a Grunt after their leader was killed. "No, you're not, you're bleeding like a stuck pig..." He didn't wait for her to acknowledge this, instead stooping down to slip an arm behind her knees and bringing the other one around her shoulders, hoisting her up as though she weighed no more than a feather pillow. Turning, he started back up the stairs to the door. Let her try to fight him, she'd have as much effect as if she were hitting a wall. Long, hurried strides had him to the door and he turned to push it open with a shoulder, taking care not to hit her head as he went through and headed for the bar.
As she was lifted off of her feet, the blood pulsed through her veins as she mustered every bit of adrenaline she had with the determination to fight off being man-handled like this, but instead her pain receptors spiked and she hunched further into the cradled position he had her in, the sudden jolt of pain causing her to reach out and grab one of the muscled arms that held her in a firm grip, gritting her teeth against the pain as the intake of breath caused a hiss as it was sucked through clenched teeth to find her lungs. Her other arm was clutching her abdomen, a slight shaking as her body started going into shock from the loss of blood, her vision wavering in and out as she fought to stay conscious. She didn't know this place, she didn't know this man that held her, and she couldn't let her guard down no matter how serious the situation. She had wandered around this strange place for close to an hour trying to find a hospital with no luck.
She should be grateful for the man, but too many years working with a bunch of men on the force and dealing with the scummiest of criminals on a daily basis, the sex as a whole had only ever proven that the majority couldn't be trusted. As far as she was concerned, this one was no different. She wasn't stupid, she needed help, but remaining conscious was a necessity until she knew his intentions. As he hauled her inside, she allowed her eyes to sqeeze tight against the pain for the hopefully short journey as her jaw remained clenched to keep her from cursing. "Where....are..you..", the shallowed breaths rattled in her chest, her body beginning to tremble a bit more from the shock, "..taking me?"
He winced as he heard her sharp intakes of breath. He'd been shot before - more than once - and knew just what she was going through. It was not a pleasant experience by any means. "First, I'm taking you to get the bleeding stopped, then I'm getting you an ambulance." Reaching the bar, he laid her - very carefully - on the countertop, not caring if she bled all over it. Gotta get the bleeding stopped first...
Rounding the counter, he reached down to a pocket as he went for the first aid kit, extracting from it his comm-link. Snagging the first aid kit from under the counter with his other hand, he came right back to where she was laid out and started looking her over as he set the kit down and the comm device next to it, flipping the former open. Not seeing anything immediate, he reached for the jacket to pull it open, searching for where the blood was coming from. Talk to her, man. Stay calm, try to keep her conscious and alert. His voice was cool, calm and professional as he spoke to her. "Try to relax and stay with me. What's your name?" Even as he looked he was already pulling out gauze pads and tape.
Her hand was clutched at her side, the gunshot wound to her abdomen had seeped blood through her black cotton undershirt, the inside of the leather jacket soaked as well. As she was laid on the bar, her back arching slightly as another jolt of pain shot through her body, popping her eyes open and causing her jaw to fall slack as she let out a strained grunt. The sudden movement had caused the bullet to shift and bury deeper into her gut. Her head fell back on the bar she was laying on, her chin up but her eyes darting over to meet his. She closed her jaw, breathing heavily through her nose as she pinned him with those piercing eyes, the look behind them stubborn and steadfast. She knew what he was doing...first rule when treating a serious injury, keep the victim conscious and talking. Which is exactly what she wanted as well so she would cooperate.
A flutter of blinking lashes and few quickened deep breaths later she managed to utter, "Ronnie. Name's..Ronnie." That's all she was able to get out before her body began to tremble harder from the shock. She broke the gaze between them as her eyes rolled up into her head and she turned her face away, fighting her blurring vision, reminding herself to just keep breathing...keep breathing.
She needed help and he was all she had. If she didn't cooperate she would die in this place. That wasn't an option. She had to get back to her world. She had to find him and pay him back for what he did to her...to her family. She needed to stay alive.
He managed to keep control of his facial expressions as he located the wound, a sharp spike of adrenaline adding an edge to the sudden worry threading its way into his mind. Abdominals were the worst wounds to have.
"All right, Ronnie. I need to lift up your shirt so I can get a look at the wound." His tone made it clear that he wasn't going to take no for an answer. Very carefully he lifted the shirt up, just past the wound, and looked. Gunshot, looked like a handgun caliber, anywhere from a nine millimeter to a .45 caliber. He knew it straight off - he'd seen enough of them that there was no doubt in his mind.
Suppressing the urge to swear, he snatched up a thick stack of the gauze pads and pressed them hard against the wound, holding his hand there as he reached for the comm with his other and tapped it. "Layla, I need you to access the city communication grid. Emergency services. Tell them there's a woman here at the Inn that has an abdominal gunshot wound. We need an ambulance here like yesterday."
Looking back at the gauze under his hand, he noticed that it was already starting to soak through, and he immediately got another stack of them and pressed them on top of what he was already holding in place, wincing at the amount of pressure he was applying but knowing there wasn't a choice. Pressure was the key to stopping the bleeding. He spoke in an apologetic tone as he looked at her. "Sorry, I know this can't be comfortable for you."
Her head rocked back to look at him, her eyes glazed but the fire behind them showing the will of the woman refusing to give in to her body's attempt to shut down. Her teeth were chattering from the shakes as a sheen of sweat formed on her brow. The deep lines cutting into her forehead a telling sign of the pain she was trying to keep from screaming out. She shook her head at him. "Not.." a sputtering cough sending another spike of pain through her body with the movement, "..so bad." Her eyes rolled back into her head again as she turned her face away, her eyes sqeezing tight to the searing pain. Must...stay...concious.
At that moment, Rhiannon Brock came out of the kitchen with a bowl of food in hand. One dark brow lowered as she eyed Cyrus and the woman he was apparently doing wound care on. "The hell happened to her!?" It wasn't exactly the time for pleasantries.
He chuckled at the woman's protestation that it wasn't that bad, though it sounded grim to his own ears. He had to admire the woman's spirit, that was for sure. He'd seen full-grown men scream like little girls with this kind of wound in them. "Yeah, right." He managed to suppress the worried look as he saw her trembling.
Hell, she's going into shock...
Reaching out, he grabbed her hand by the wrist with the one not already holding the gauze in place and brought it to the wound, pressing it in his hand's place hard. "You need to hold this." He spoke in a firm but calm manner, and only let go of her hand once he was sure she had it. Starting to turn away to go and get a blanket, he spied Rhiannon coming in.
Thank God... The thought ran through his mind as he answered the younger girl, keeping his tone calm and even despite the steadily growing panic trying to rear its ugly head. "She's been shot. I found her on the porch like this." He managed to keep his voice under control as he spoke, if only just. "She's lost a lot of blood and she's going into shock. I was just going to get her a blanket." And then he remembered...Rhiannon knew magic. "I...I don't suppose you could..." He looked between Rhiannon and Ronnie, as some of the worry finally made its presence known in his voice.
Rhiannon set the bowl on the counter, jotted a note in her family's account in the ledger book, and snagged a bottle of whiskey along with a glass and clean cloth. "Linen closet, foot of the stairs, Cyrus. Blankets, pillows, et cetera." She filled the glass with whiskey, crouched, and offered it to the wounded woman. "It won't cure you, but if your body refuses the help I can offer, it'll knock back some of the pain."
He didn't say anything, and was already moving as she spoke to go and raid the linen closet. Good thing she'd told him about that, because he was about to go and break into the first room he came to and steal the linens off a bed, no matter if someone was sleeping in it or not. He didn't even bother with picking out a single blanket, just reached in with both hands and grabbed everything he could hold at once, and came back with an armful of blankets and a couple of pillows, more than what was probably necessary.
"You disinfect this thing already?" Rhi asked Cyrus. She had brought the whiskey bottle along and the clean cloth was set on top of it.
Her gaze lazily following the sound of the newcomer, once those piercing eyes found her they were sure and steady even while fighting unconsciousness, but a bit of fear was seeping through now. She had lost and was still losing too much blood, death had its grip on her throat and was choking her slowly and painfully. Her eye darted to the glass before they were pinned back on the woman. She managed a nod and mustering all the strength she could manage to lift her head enough to take the offering. Some of the whiskey made it past her trembling lips, she stayed as steady as possible, taking in as much of it as she could before the muscles in her neck refused to cooperate with the commands of her mind and her head made to lay back onto the bar. Her eyes staring up into the rafters.
He shook his head as he dropped the blankets on the counter, along with the pillows, and as the woman - Ronnie, he remembered, the name running through his head repeatedly - lifted her head to take the drink he slipped the pillow under it, just before she laid her head back down. "No, I was just trying to stop the bleeding for a moment until I could get her a ride to the clinic."
Rhi reached to support Ronnie's head while she drank. That last thing they needed was for her to choke. Rhiannon's hands had a warm feeling to them. Some found it comforting, but those adverse to magic or divine gifts often found it unsettling. "You could have taken her downstairs. Possibly stopped the bleeding in the rings. It's a myth that they only work on wounds incurred within them."
The pain reverberated through her body with each wave of shock through her, the feel of death on her neck gripping her with fear, her eyes welled up, a single drop slidding past the outside corner and slipping down her temple. Her breathing becoming more and more shallow with each passage of air into and out of her lungs. As the woman reached to bring her head back to the glass to drink, there was a warmth that radiated at the point of contact, relieving some of the tension in her muscles there. She was able to take a few more trembling sips before having to turn away. It didn't take long for the effects of the liquor to start easing some of the tension from the rest of her but she was still shaking from the shock her body was trying to go into.
That last question from Rhiannon got another head shake. "Didn't think of that...I was always taught that you move a gunshot wound victim as little as possible." He was mentally kicking himself for not having thought of that, actually. He'd been here a while, true, but training kicked in and made him forget that such things were a possibility. Mental note for next time...hopefully there won't be one, if she survives this. Reaching for one of the blankets, he shook it out a bit and went to cover her upper body with it, trying to keep her warm while keeping the wound clear of obstructions so Rhiannon could work.
"Did you clean the wound or just stanch the blood flow?" She asked Cyrus as she tested the waters by releasing a bit more of her healing energies flow to see Ronnie's reaction to it. Providing she reacted postively, the pain level could go from eased off to nonexistant. "Standard methods aren't always the best when faced with life and death." If it was adverse, the pain could remain as it was or severely increase.
Cyrus had to remind himself that Rhiannon was trying to help and not to lose his temper. He felt like he was being lectured. "No, just trying to get the bleeding stopped. I was trained in field first aid - the basic philosophy is to keep the bleeding under control and shock from setting in until you can get them to a real doctor, or at least a medic..." He'd probably forgotten more about field first aid than most people in this town would ever know, and yet she was making him feel like a rank amateur.
Her eyes were squeezed tight against the pain as a new wave of it crested and crashed through her body but was almost immediately followed by a warmer wave that seemed to ebb away the throbbing trail of the previous one. She could feel her body tremors slowing and her muscles gets some release from the clenching grip of pain. She figured that must have been some pretty strong alcohol the woman had offered. With each drawn breath, the tension creasing her brow and stiffening her body began to wane a little too rapidly but she wasn't about to complain or question it.
"You sound like my sister. She's a combat medic for a flight squadron." Once she felt Ronnie's body relaxing, she started to move the glass away. "I think you've had enough of that for now," she murmured as she slowly lowered her hand to help ease Ronnie's head onto a pillow. Rhi took a deep breath and sarted looking over the gunshot wound. "Might not be the most recommended by medical professionals, but in Rhydin the most readily available disinfectant and all purpose medicinal tool is whiskey."
He managed a strained chuckle at that. "That I did know. I wasn't really looking to stitch her up, though, just keep her stable." His brow furrowed, just slightly, then. "I didn't see an exit wound, though..."
Her lips pursed as she studied the wound. Her hands worked along with her smart mouth. "No exit ... that's not good. You check her back or ... consider that it wasn't an ordinary bullet?" She starting cleaning the wound with a whiskey dampened cloth.
She picked the beam in the ceiling to focus on, her vision becoming less hazy and sharper with each pulse of warmth through her body. Her lids were getting heavy but she forced them to stay open, blinking and refocusing, the large swallow of air she was able to take in didn't register, nor did anything from her neck down. She realized at that point that she felt no pain but she couldn't feel anything they were doing either. A new fear gripped her mind as those eyes left the ceiling rafters to dart down to where she had been shot. She hadn't even noticed the blanket that had been lain across her. The woman was obviously cleaning the gunshot wound but had she not been watching this now with her own eyes she wouldn't have known. She couldn't find her voice. The scene before her played out as if it were someone else's body. She let her head fall back on the pillow. Had the bullet moved or shifted again? Paralyzing her? Why couldn't she feel anything? Or was her body already being turned over to the Reaper, the work of the two hovering over her in vain? Was this the final stage and her mind was only savoring its last few moments of consciousness before it too died along with the body? As these thoughts swam in her head she tried to remain calm.
He twitched his head at the wound, still clearly visible. "That wound was caused by anything from a nine millimeter to a .45 caliber bullet." He'd seen enough of them to know what one looked like. "An exit wound from that would be easy to spot, and I didn't feel one when I checked her. If I had to guess, it wasn't anything special, but without digging it out I couldn't tell you for sure, and I sure wasn't about to try that."
"Right. Where do you feel most comfortable, Cyrus? Civilian or military facilities ... or somewhere in the middle?" Rhiannon was checking the current blood flow from Ronnie's wound. "My needlework isn't half bad, but I think the best thing is to temporarily cauterise this and get her moved while she's fairly stable and out of pain. You have a light source on you?" Her brows furrowed.
He nodded and reached into one of the many pockets on his BDU pants, extracting a penlight from it and handing it over. "Honestly, I don't care, as long as they know what they're doing and it's close. I was trying to get an ambulance for her, but I don't know if there even is something like that here." Layla had never gotten back to him either, which meant she probably hadn't found anything that would have been useful. He was almost tempted to have her wake up Andreas and have him fly the Pelican out to him so they could load her in that and get her to the infirmary on his ship at this point.
The conversation batting between the two was garbled. Her mind already filled with the fears of her inability to move along with the exhaustion creeping in threatening to take over put her lights out for good. A relief she would welcome if she wasn't such a control freak. Even in her current situation she refused to let her body shut her down just yet when rationally it was what she should allow to happen, especially given that these two were obviously trying to help her.
"There is, but unless you know who or where to call, you could be all day at it. If you have a cell on you, you can ask for Riverview or Rhydin General. Those are publicly available." She nodded her thanks for the penlight and rested her fingers on the skin around the wound, she spread it slightly. Using the penlight she was able to get a better idea of where the bullet was resting. She grunted. "Oh.. yeah. I can see residue and sense metal, but it's in her gut. Too deep for my fingers to catch. I can keep it from moving, but a surgeon is going to have to get it out." She handed him back the light. "Thanks. I doubt this lady wants her business known by the general public, so, we're going to take her over to friend's place. There's a doctor on call for his employees. You heard of Ed Batten?"
The only movement from her was of her eyes watching the tennis match of a conversation between the two as they decided what they were going to do with her. She couldn't just lay there like an invalid allowing two strangers to decide what to do with her, she could at least weigh in on the situation to let them know she was still conscious and listening. Taking another lung full of air, she opened her mouth and the strained voice that came out didn't quite sound like her own but it would do, "Do...what you...can. Stabilize the bullet...get me to a surgeon. Get this thing out of me."
He took the light back and pocketed it, nodding to the question. "Yeah, of course. Katt's brother, right? She mentioned him to me when I first arrived here, said he might be able to help me with some stuff." He arched an eyebrow. "Didn't know he had that sort of operation, though. But if he can help, I'm all for it."
Sounded just peachy to her. She couldn't hold on much longer. She took a couple more deep breaths before pinning first Cyrus then Rhiannon with that piercing look, "And for God's sakes...someone...please knock me out." An odd request given how hard she had been fighting for the last several minutes to stay conscious but her gut feeling, the one housed where the hole currently was, told her neither of these two meant her harm and the best thing for her to do right now was give in to the darkness, but her mind wasn't letting her shut down.
"Yeah, Katt's brother." She looked at Ronnie. "Easy, we're trying to help you." She got to the business of creating a sort of bubble around the bullet and closing the wound for the time being. Her fingers felt like hot water pressing against Ronnie's skin. "Like I said, that's not public." She eyed Ronnie and tipped her head to the whiskey for Cyrus. "Give her more, please." It wouldn't exactly be the whiskey knocking the woman out, but Rhi wasn't going to tell her that.
"Right. Don't worry, I'm not gonna be telling anyone." He nodded and reached for the bottle and the glass, pouring a couple fingers into the glass and setting the bottle aside. Reaching out, he settled a hand under her head and lifted so she could drink without choking. "Here, drink this...it'll help you rest." He hoped.
It wouldn't be long before Ronnie was oblivious to anything but her dreams. Once the wound was closed at skin bridge, Rhi cleaned her hands again with the whiskey. "You got this? I'm going to make a call and get someone over here."
She looked up at Cyrus, relief in her eyes at the coming promise of being able to just let go as her now steady lips met the glass and she began to drink. Slowly at first then more. Her eyes never leaving his as she drank. Her lids getting a bit heavier with each passing sip but not wavering in their gaze.
He nodded, reaching for the blanket and tugging it down to cover the woman the rest of the way. "Yeah, I got this. Just make sure they know I'm gonna be sticking around 'till I'm sure she's gonna be all right." Catching Ronnie's gaze, he gave her what he hoped was a reassuring smile, holding that gaze as he tilted his head at Rhi. "Let me know when they're on the way, I'll meet them outside."
He made sure the whiskey was downed before he laid her head back on the pillow again, and for the first time, he noticed that she was, even in this state...rather good-looking. Beautiful, in fact. Some distant part of his mind noted with a hint of surprise that it was the first time he'd thought of any woman that way for the past few weeks.
Rhiannon stood and seemed to be sending a text on a cellphone, but the reality was, she was tapping into DIANA's resources and making her request. She tipped her head and keyed in something else before saying, "ETA ten minutes, barring traffic issues."
The fire from the whiskey registered in her throat but it ebbed away when she refused to stop, wanting the sweet release of unconsciousness enough to drown herself in the stuff if necessary, and she finished the glass with that sweet purpose in mind. She never wavered in her gaze as she drained the glass. As he lowered her head back onto the pillow her eyes darted to Rhiannon then came back to lock on Cyrus. She didn't know who they were but if she it out of this alive, she would owe both of them her life. A slow blink as the whiskey was well on its way into her bloodstream. As her lids growing rapidly heavier, the last thing she remembered seeing was Cyrus looking down at her.
"I can wait with you if you like, but I sent them your picture so they know exactly who to pick up," Rhiannon said.
Her lips parted, the thanks she owed these two strangers was immeasurable, Another even slower blink before she got one last look at the man standing over her, "Thank yo..." The last word trailing off as she was finally released from reality and slipping into dreams.
He shook his head, only briefly lifting it up to look around at Rhi. The adrenaline of the situation was wearing off, and even he was getting a little tired, but he'd hold on until they got here. "No, I've got this. Go on home."
The crystal-blue eyes swept over to Ronnie's face again as she said those last barely breathed words, a faint smile pulling at his features as he made sure she was really out and not dead, reaching to press two fingers against her wrist a moment. Her pulse was still there, faint and thready, but still going. Then he looked back at Rhi. "And...thanks."
He made a note to himself that he owed the girl one. If she hadn't come along, this might've ended very differently.
"Glad to help. I just wish I could have gotten her name and met her under better circumstances. Keep her warm." By the time Rhi was heading out the door, she could hear the sound of a vehicle coming down the street where the Inn was.
He barely registered the sound of the approaching vehicle, he was too busy watching Ronnie, making sure she kept breathing. She was rather striking, but he forced those thoughts from his mind. For all he knew, she was some kind of criminal, or worse. A part of him hoped it wasn't so, but given recent events and his luck overall in that area, he steeled himself for the worst.
When the personnel from Batten's company came in with a gurney, he stood back to let them do their work, watching as they checked her vitals, the wound, and finally hoisted her onto the gurney and carted her outside. There was not so much as an instant in which he hesitated to follow them. Whatever she was, his first instinct was a protective one, as he was the one that found her like this, and he felt obligated to at least be sure she was okay. Judgements could be held until later, after she was taken care of and he could talk to her again.
Fortunately, neither of the medics tried to stop him from climbing into the transport with her, and as soon as the rear hatch was closed the vehicle took off at top speed. It wasn't long before it stopped again - somewhere between five and ten minutes, he reckoned - and the rear door opened so they could get Ronnie out on the gurney again. He was careful to stay out of the way as they took her out and wheeled her in, and, again, without any hesitation whatsoever, he followed along after them as they took the woman in through a side entrance to the medical facilities within the building which towered above them.