As Dairine opened the door, the towering man with the pale and sick Dorian entered, his eyes piercing blue, pale skin despite his natural olive tone, and the black wavy hair showed that this was Isaack, for those who knew who he was. "Glad to see someone put up a lab." His English was slightly accented, but not very as they hurried inside.
"Burning fever, sweating, heavy coughing with signs of pulmonary oedema. Might be Tuberculosis, if so, find something to cover your mouth. The vaccine you get in your childhood don't necessary protect you.I'm already dead, so I should not be affected." he placed Dorian carefully down, checking his eyes again. "Hey, kiddo, can you hear me?"
Dorian's head rolled, but he cried out softly when Isaack checked his eyes, proving he was still conscious. Oh, how he wanted the strange man's hands to stay on his face, the chill of his skin such a relief that he ignored the reasonable shock of hear the man say 'I'm already dead'. At this point, he wasn't sure what was really things he was aware of and things the fever dreamt for him.
He whimpered fretfully on his cot, seeming more like a child than the elegant, careless gentleman he had been at the party.
"Help me..." He moaned, though he had lost all hope, believed he as past the point of help. This disease was most assuredly a death sentence in his time and his life here of eating little and smoking much had affected his health. "Please! Doctor Brie...I'm burning..." Blood, thin and pinkish ran down his cheek, a tear mimicking its path further along the side of his face.
Dairine set Isaack's bag down and--only slightly nervously--tucked her hair behind her ears. Obviously Dorian had a high fever, so obviously whatever he said couldn't count for much, but it was still a bit creepy to hear.
"Okay," she said. "What do you want me to do now?"
"Well, I don't really have much to put his fever down, but I will look through my bag. If you can, pun to the kitchen and get at much ice as you can. We need to cool down or his fever is gonna kill him."
He leant over Dorian, furrowing his brows. "Kid, do you have any allergies?"
Leaving Maris at the door - he hadn't expected her to hang around anyway, and was in fact impressed that she'd managed to survive more than five minutes with the Master in such a peevish state - Jack pushed on through into the clinic and set the Master down on the nearest cot before glancing around to find Martha - or another doctor - and take in who else was there.
The Master was almost completely out of it by this time. He struggled ineffectually as Jack put him down, but soon collapsed back onto the pillows, coughing weakly. He couldn't even drag up the strength to open his eyes. He wasn't particularly looking forward to the sight of Doctor Jones gloating over him anyway.
Even though Martha was busy, she spared a moment to smile at Jack as he came through the door. When she saw his burden, though, she was rather less than pleased - but she had to be professional about these things, after all, so she hurried over to the bed.
"Right," she said tersely, flipping to a blank piece of paper in her notepad. She eyed the Master for a moment, wondering if he was even coherent enough at this point to give her the information she needed. If not, she decided, she'd just have to treat him normally and hope nothing went wrong.
"Any major biological differences to humans I should know about?" She might actually feel guilty if she accidentally killed him. Might.
“Two hearts, respiratory bypass, internal body temperature of 16 C, and don’t give him aspirin,” Jack said promptly, and added wryly. “Unless you want the Doctor going ballistic at you, that is.” He grinned and drew Martha into a hug. “How are you holding up?” he asked gently.
He never let on how very heavy he was finding her towards the end. It didn't matter. She needed to be carried, she needed to be there. He could see others in the room, the sick and those who cared for them. They would probably get sick too but Tony couldn't be concerned for them right now. They had made their choice. "Please! Help us! She's preg-" Tony coughed heavily. He almost lost his balance but managed to not-quite drop her on a nearby bed. He immediately knelt beside her. "I'm here. We're here Gwen. Everything is going to be alright."
At last! Jack hurried over, his heart twisting in anguish at the sight of Gwen looking so pale and tired and obviously ill. He couldn't help but worry about her - and her baby too. He had no idea how this sickness might affect the baby, but it almost certainly couldn't be good.
He stopped next to Tony, laying a hand on his shoulder. "Glad you could make it," he said warmly, trying not to let any of his fear show in his voice. "Thanks for looking after my girl, Tony."
Gwen was drifting in and out of consciousness, but she was aware of being swung onto another bed. She didn't remember Tony actually carrying her anywhere, so she was a little surprised as she forced a look around the new room.
But Tony was there, and Jack was there, and for and sick and horrible as she felt, if she was going to die, she could have picked a worse way to go.
"Jack...?" she croaked, trying to clear the fog around her head. The room was spinning and she closed her eyes, her hand reaching out to seek either of the men beside her. She tried to speak again, but before the words could come out, she dissolved into a weak coughing fit.
Tony almost snorted 'your girl?' but he didn't. It was not the time or the place and he was also afraid if he snorted his head would explode. He allowed Jack to touch him but he got little comfort from it. Only the news Gwen and the baby would make a full recovery would do that.
"I was never going to do anything else," he said again, his hand in hers the moment she was settled. "Have you spoken to the doctors? Has progress been made?" He looked up at Jack, his face pale around the dark beard and near-black eyes. His fingers moved to brush the hair from Gwen's forehead as he sat on the edge of the narrow bed. "Were here darlin'. Me and Jack. It's OK. We're at the clinic now. The doctor will see you in a minute and -CAN WE GET A DOCTOR OVER HERE!- you'll be fine." He smiled a reassuring smile and had to break the gaze to cough heavily into his inner elbow.
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"Burning fever, sweating, heavy coughing with signs of pulmonary oedema. Might be Tuberculosis, if so, find something to cover your mouth. The vaccine you get in your childhood don't necessary protect you.I'm already dead, so I should not be affected." he placed Dorian carefully down, checking his eyes again. "Hey, kiddo, can you hear me?"
Reply
He whimpered fretfully on his cot, seeming more like a child than the elegant, careless gentleman he had been at the party.
"Help me..." He moaned, though he had lost all hope, believed he as past the point of help. This disease was most assuredly a death sentence in his time and his life here of eating little and smoking much had affected his health. "Please! Doctor Brie...I'm burning..." Blood, thin and pinkish ran down his cheek, a tear mimicking its path further along the side of his face.
Reply
"Okay," she said. "What do you want me to do now?"
Reply
He leant over Dorian, furrowing his brows. "Kid, do you have any allergies?"
Reply
Leaving Maris at the door - he hadn't expected her to hang around anyway, and was in fact impressed that she'd managed to survive more than five minutes with the Master in such a peevish state - Jack pushed on through into the clinic and set the Master down on the nearest cot before glancing around to find Martha - or another doctor - and take in who else was there.
Reply
Reply
"Right," she said tersely, flipping to a blank piece of paper in her notepad. She eyed the Master for a moment, wondering if he was even coherent enough at this point to give her the information she needed. If not, she decided, she'd just have to treat him normally and hope nothing went wrong.
"Any major biological differences to humans I should know about?" She might actually feel guilty if she accidentally killed him. Might.
Reply
Reply
Reply
He stopped next to Tony, laying a hand on his shoulder. "Glad you could make it," he said warmly, trying not to let any of his fear show in his voice. "Thanks for looking after my girl, Tony."
Reply
But Tony was there, and Jack was there, and for and sick and horrible as she felt, if she was going to die, she could have picked a worse way to go.
"Jack...?" she croaked, trying to clear the fog around her head. The room was spinning and she closed her eyes, her hand reaching out to seek either of the men beside her. She tried to speak again, but before the words could come out, she dissolved into a weak coughing fit.
Reply
"I was never going to do anything else," he said again, his hand in hers the moment she was settled. "Have you spoken to the doctors? Has progress been made?" He looked up at Jack, his face pale around the dark beard and near-black eyes. His fingers moved to brush the hair from Gwen's forehead as he sat on the edge of the narrow bed. "Were here darlin'. Me and Jack. It's OK. We're at the clinic now. The doctor will see you in a minute and -CAN WE GET A DOCTOR OVER HERE!- you'll be fine." He smiled a reassuring smile and had to break the gaze to cough heavily into his inner elbow.
Reply
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