intro post for cursesandgifts
Well. This was new.
Janet was reasonably sure that she had just been shot in the chest by a staff weapon. The burn and blood on her fatigues, as well as the annoying sensation in the area of her chest that seemed to come from a nasty-looking blast wound seemed to confirm this. But now, the woods of P3X-666, the sounds of gunfire, and the airman she had been working to stabilize--none of them were there. Instead, they had been replaced by a rather nondescript room with a pinball machine off to one side.
To keep from thinking about this too deeply, she poked at the burned patch of skin. It really wasn't anything she hadn't seen on patients before (staff weapon blasts to the chest were the first most common thing treated at the SGC infirmary, though weird alien colds came in a close second.) Damn, this doesn't look good. No sooner had she thought that than the charred skin underneath started to heal, with healthy skin stretching its way over the charred areas with a very annoying itchy, prickly, actually-sort-of-painful sensation. Odd. She'd certainly never been able to do that before, though it would have been useful on one or two or three hundred situations that she could think of.
She realized that she was still wearing bloodied latex gloves--the airman's blood, not hers--and pulled them off, shoving them in a pocket.
((Fittingly, Janet has a healing power, sort of. Basically, she encourages cell growth, so there's no pain relief. But hey, that's what anaesthetics are for!))
Janet was reasonably sure that she had just been shot in the chest by a staff weapon. The burn and blood on her fatigues, as well as the annoying sensation in the area of her chest that seemed to come from a nasty-looking blast wound seemed to confirm this. But now, the woods of P3X-666, the sounds of gunfire, and the airman she had been working to stabilize--none of them were there. Instead, they had been replaced by a rather nondescript room with a pinball machine off to one side.
To keep from thinking about this too deeply, she poked at the burned patch of skin. It really wasn't anything she hadn't seen on patients before (staff weapon blasts to the chest were the first most common thing treated at the SGC infirmary, though weird alien colds came in a close second.) Damn, this doesn't look good. No sooner had she thought that than the charred skin underneath started to heal, with healthy skin stretching its way over the charred areas with a very annoying itchy, prickly, actually-sort-of-painful sensation. Odd. She'd certainly never been able to do that before, though it would have been useful on one or two or three hundred situations that she could think of.
She realized that she was still wearing bloodied latex gloves--the airman's blood, not hers--and pulled them off, shoving them in a pocket.
((Fittingly, Janet has a healing power, sort of. Basically, she encourages cell growth, so there's no pain relief. But hey, that's what anaesthetics are for!))