pinesnet | misdial...or not (3.20 morning)

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misdial...or not (3.20 morning)

[It started with what he thought was food poisoning the day after the St. Patrick's Day party. Made sense, even if it was unpleasant, and after calling out of work he tried to take it easy. The next morning, the nausea was worse, and his body had added the fun new symptom of tingling, like his hands were going numb. Even his healthy wariness of the hospital didn't keep him from going in, but the doctor agreed with him--just a bad bout of food poisoning, nothing to worry about, but he can stay for observation if he wants--but of course, he was halfway out the door already before that offer was made.

Now it's been a solid two days, and the tingling is worse. He's starting to have trouble breathing, and there's a suspicion that's growing along with the dizziness every time he stands up. So he tries to call the only doctor he knows isn't really from here--Dr. Gray. Only with the way he can't really feel his hands, and the way the numbers are kinda blurring together, it's anyone's guess who actually gets his slurred, slightly disjointed message.]

Hey--it's...10K. Ten Kay. [Said again, with careful enunciation.] I'm sick. Sicker than...I dunno. Dogs. Puppies and kittens...Doc said it was food poisoning, but I could...use a second opinion. I think. Missed work again today.

Could you...come by? And tell--tell Cassandra I'm...sorry.

[Whoops. That noise would be this discombobulated kid dropping the phone instead of hanging up.]

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[ Cassian isn't even sure the message is meant for him, and then on top of that, isn't sure it should be. Because while he's got about a decade of memories involving 10K growing up (and his brain goes weird at Kay, because Kay is his best friend) he's also got a lot of memories that don't involve the boy.

At all.

No suggestion of him, or of this place, or of the people he knows.

So there's...a little hesitation, when Cassian drags himself up in the middle of the night and listens to the disjointed message. Does he go? Does he call his roommate, who is on shift at the hospital right now?

Does he go back to bed?

He's not enough of a heartless asshole for that last option, or at least he likes to imagine he isn't (anymore?) so Cassian pulls on his jacket, laces up his boots, and goes for a walk.

He has a key which 10K gave him and Cassian will feel...some kind of way about that some day that is not today. Today at half past three in the morning, conflicting memories be damned, Cassian is looking out for his own.

And walks in to the kitchen to find some woman he doesn't know pointing some thing he doesn't recognize at Ten, and Cassian's expression stays flat while his hand balls into a fist at his side. ]

Good morning.

[ To the tone of "who are you and wtf are you doing?" ]

Oh, hello there!

[That's very cheerful for someone interrupted in the act of pointing what looks like a weapon at a sick teenager, though her odd helmet hides whatever expression she's wearing.]

Just take a seat, I'll get to you in a second. If it's airborne, I'm afraid you're already exposed, but the symptoms suggest a food or waterborne transmission vector. It's inconsistent with cholera...unless someone bioengineered it for neurological symptoms, of course! That would be anti-social!

[Cassian Andor, meet Dr. Emily Grey. She's a bit off.]

[He's not entirely sure how Emily got in the house, only that he's relieved that she a. did, and b. is wearing her armor. It's safer that way, she probably won't be able to get sick from whatever it is he has. She's reassuringly chipper, too, and he relaxes as much as he can between the difficulty breathing and numbness that's spread to his legs, sitting in a chair in the kitchen by the phone, still dangling off the hook.

The familiar--familiar??--sound of Cassian's voice brings him around a little, and he starts upright, barely managing to get his head up and pointed in that general direction. Licking his lips, he rasps out a reply, trying to calm Cassian (Uncle Cass? He's still not sure, but it still feels right, despite everything) down.]

It's...okay. She's a doctor.

[Who is pointing a thing that looks like a gun at him, but okay.]

You'll forgive me if I hold off from being comforted, at the moment. [ The...getup this woman has on has Cassian's mind ringing warning bells and echoing things he can't quite hunt down and not for the first time since he woke up in the hospital he's left wondering just how scrambled his brains really are. ]

I'm not sick, [ Cassian clarifies. Just in case the besuited one decides to point that thing at him, which he kind of hopes doesn't happen. This is also the point in which a normal person would probably introduce themselves but Cassian, instead, picks up the phone from where it's resting on the floor and hangs it up before squeezing Ten's shoulder. ]

How long have you been sick?

You're not sick yet.

[She says, perkily, and turns back to 10K.

Yeah, thanks Emily.]

Hmm. Negative for anything in the database.

[The green light from her totally-not-a-weapon dies away, and Emily clips it to her thigh in exactly the way a gun would be carried.]

Of course, it's just a portable scanner and wouldn't pick up, say, prion diseases. Your brain tissue is entirely intact for the moment, so I don't think we have to worry about anything crossing the blood-brain barrier just yet!

[She turns to a completely normal for the 90s field medical kit, a safety orange bag with reflective tape and the red medical cross on it, and pulls out an IV kit.]

I'm gonna need a blood sample.

[Godawful bedside manner notwithstanding, all her movements are fluid and practiced. If she's not a doctor, she's at least someone who knows her way around needles...so, y'know, could be a drug addict.]

Thanks.

[The word is weak, but aimed at Emily, and he offers an arm without complaint, though may misjudge the exact direction of her hands as he makes the effort to look up at Cassian.]

Been sick...dunno, two days? Three? Stomach went crazy...after Friday. Saturday. Sunday it was...worse. Went to the hospital. Came home. Now...can't seem to get a breath. Everything's tingly.

You...probably shouldn't get too close. Right?

[A look towards Emily for confirmation, face clammy and pale.]

What the hell are you going to do with a blood sample outside of the hospital? [ Even as Cassian says it he knows that the hospital is not the be-all end-all resource for monitoring whatever is making Ten sick, but...

He's worried. And paranoid. A familiar but not entirely comfortable combination.

But Ten's already been to the hospital and Cassian doesn't feel great about that either so. So. Cassian swallows and smooths some of the kid's hair off of his forehead. ]

I'll worry about that. For now I'm fine.

I'm going to take it to the hospital, silly!

[Emily's crouching next to 10K's chair, his arm balanced on her shoulder as she swabs the crook of his elbow to sterilize it.]

It's not the only thing here I want to take to the hospital, but someone is being stubborn.

[10K. She means 10K.]

Anyway, like I said, it's probably not airborne. Wash your hands thoroughly before touching your face and you should cut down your chances of contracting whatever this is. Of course, you might still pick it up from ingesting something contaminated, but hygiene is always a good idea!

Told you, she's...doctor.

[Right? Space armor aside. Space armor? He's not sure why space armor is the name he's chosen, just that she looks like she stepped right off the cover of a cheap sci-fi novel. Only if she had, she'd be a guy, right? The girls were always mostly-naked aliens, he's pretty sure...just like he's pretty sure he's delirious right now, though he rouses himself enough to shake his head, almost dislodging Emily from her attempts at drawing blood.]

No hospital. M'not going back. Didn't--didn't do any good. Right? Like you said, it's not in the system.

[A look up at Cass, worried and hopeful despite the glazed look in his green eyes.]

Uncle Cass. You won't take me back there. Right?

I see. [ Cassian's opinion on the subject hasn't changed, exactly, but he's probably not going to get far being outright rude towards the woman, so. Instead he nods in her direction. ] Interesting armor.

[ Ten looks at him and Cass squeezes his shoulder again, before looking to Emily and then peering at a spot on the ceiling. A spot where he found a recording device nestled in the shadow of the overhead light in his own home. A spot where he's pretty sure there's another such device here.

On the one hand he wants to trust that medical professionals in this place are meant to help them. On the other, trust no one seems written into his genetic makeup. ]

You don't want to then we won't, it's that simple.

[ Hopefully the good doctor wasn't expecting Cassian to force 10K into going back there. ] Besides, who likes hospitals?

Thanks! Beats getting shot!

[Emily's been here long enough to have all her real memories back, but underneath that weird perkiness is an extremely sharp mind, and she knows better than to say anything out of bounds about where she came by her obviously high-tech gear.]

Little pinch.

[In a single quick gesture, she inserts the IV with no fumbling despite 10K's dehydration. Emily pauses to look up at Cassian, her featureless purple faceplate revealing nothing. Her voice, though, is more solemn than before.]

It's likely he'll need supportive care soon. Oxygen. Fluids. Nutrient drip.

[The neurological symptoms have her very concerned.]

Can't be...that bad, right?

[Right?? Okay, so he knows he's not right. He knows this is bad, because it feels like his hands and feet are constantly going numb, and his tongue is thick and heavy; the room spins, and his stomach spins with it, though it's got nothing left to give. The air is thin, rasping in and out of his lungs and giving nothing in return. It's bad. It's worse than anything since the anthrax, an illness he remembers only faintly; a barn, nice people, delirium and straw. Abbie. Warren doing what she had to.

He doesn't remember Cassandra there.

He doesn't feel the pinch of the IV, either, and he's having trouble focusing on Emily at all. Still, he tries for a smile, even if it's not even a twitch of his lips.]

You'll figure out what this is, and we'll stop it, and I'll be fine. Right, Doc?

Will you need supplies from the hospital? If he needs an IV?

[ He can probably get Jaeyoung to help him. Or just steal them outright. There are worse things, honestly, and Cassian is willing to deal with the consequences in this case.

Because Tommy is family? Because even if he isn't, hell, Cassian is pretty sure that he would do more things for people who mean less to him.

Pretty sure. ]

I'm guessing if it's airborne we're all screwed. What about the water?

Glad I'm not the only one who misdials around here. Um, hello? Are you still on the line? I think you might have called everybody instead of somebody.

_{[Never fear, Jack is here for some phone-mishandling solidarity. A pause, and then:]}

You don't sound so good, fella.

[There's some fumbling on the line as 10K reaches for the phone, trying to judge which one he's seeing is actually the real phone. He comes back on the line about halfway through Jack's words, and his response, while feebly witty, has no heart behind it.]

Well, I feel worse than I sound, so...least I probably have something going...sorry. I was trying to call Doc--the doctor. Gray. Emily. You know her?

Nope, sorry!

_{[No one manages to make a no sound quite so cheerful as Jack.]}

But you got me! Did you eat something funny?

[Damn. He was hoping...well. She's at least not one of the doctors at the hospital, so he was thinking maybe she'd be safer to go to. Because this isn't food poisoning. Not at all. Answering the guy on the other end of the line is a little tricky and fraught with pauses while he wheezes, trying to breathe, but he manages.]

Mostly canned stuff. From the grocery store. No dented cans, though. Just stuff. Thought maybe the docs were right, the first day...not so much now. Hands and feet feel weird. Asleep. And breathing is...hard. Can't get my lungs full. Don't think food poisoning does that...right?

_{[What's that sound? The sound of 10K's hopes for a knowledgeable medical practitioner evaporating? Orrr... is it someone struggling to catch their breath?

Jack's certainly not knowledgeable, but that rattle in 10K's lungs is clear as a bell--and worrying.]}

I don't know that it's supposed to get that bad. Maybe actual poison. _[Er.] I mean--hahaha, what are the chances of that happening? You could have allergies! That happens. How about going back to the hospital?

_{[He's trying, bless his heart.]}

Well shit. I'd have kicked you out even if you hadn't called out. You sound seven shades of fucked up, buddy.

[Takes him a second to get to the phone again, and he still sounds awful, but hey. At least he's talking.]

Feel like about eight. You okay?

Yeah, I'm fine. Haven't seen more n' two customers in the whole damn day, so I just closed up shop.

You want me to haul you over to the hospital?

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misdial...or not (3.20 morning)

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