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Post by belle on Jul 12, 2010 12:14:28 GMT -5
((OOC: Takes place between "More Patience" and "The Trouble With...". It will be exclusively Belle and Feliciano for a number of posts, and then opened up to the rest of the crew at a certain point)) It had been difficult to leave the first mate to himself the previous night, despite his assurances that he would sleep just fine. Belle had been prepared to pull up another cot and be ready to jump to her feet if Mr. Vargas so much as coughed in his sleep. But in the end she surrendered to her own room right next door and left him with a pager within easy reach of his good arm. The pager hadn't gone off once all night, and Belle had slept soundly right up until her alarm went off at five the next morning. By six she was prepared for the day and walking through the doors of the infirmary like every morning. Feliciano's eyes were closed, and he could have been asleep, but even in that state his expressions was one of... discomfort. From the doorway Belle could see perspiration gathered on his forehead, dampening his hair and making it stick to the skin. Her casual walk turned into a sprint, bringing her to the bedside in a matter of seconds and rummaging around the small cabinet that served as a beside table. "Mr. Vargas?" she called gently as she pulled out the non-invasive digital thermometer. "Mr. Vargas, wake up." ((OOC: I actually designed her neat little thermometer thingy. I'll try to get it up in my art thread soon))
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Feliciano
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Post by Feliciano on Jul 12, 2010 12:50:55 GMT -5
He'd felt perfectly fine the day before.
In fact, hyped up on morphine, he'd felt positively fantastic.
It wasn't so much the pain that bothered him, seeing as he possessed a particularly high tolerance for it, but Feliciano was couldn't stand being conscious while sitting mostly incapacitated, alone for much of the time, in the infirmary. At night, it was a dark place. Scattered, malformed shadows towered in the corners, reaching out to him from the darkness. He slept like he said he would after he'd told Belle how he'd be all right.
It just took him a while to drift away, was all.
And now that he was flickering on the edge of consciousness, in that intriguing place between asleep and awake where you could still remember how muddled and confusing your dreams were, he felt the pain. It burned.
His shoulder felt as though it was on fire. The brunette shifted a little, brow furrowing as he realized that he was stuck to the sheets. He was stuck to the sheets! He was sweating. He was hot. The wound ached. It was like feeling his heartbeat in his upper arm, throbbing with strain. Feliciano swallowed; his throat was dry. And far, far away, he could hear a soft, desperate voice calling to him. "Ngh, si?" He croaked hoarsely, attempting to open his eyes. "Belle, it...hurts." The words were spoken with astonishment. Normally, he healed rather quickly.
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Post by belle on Jul 12, 2010 13:45:46 GMT -5
"Belle, it...hurts."
This was what struck panic into her, because she had never head the first mate admit to pain before. He'd smile through it, he'd shrug it off, he'd make jokes. But none of that was happening right now. Feliciano was suffering enough that he wasn't even trying to mask it, and on top of that, there was surprise in his voice.
"I know... I'm sorry," she murmured, not really able to think of anything else. "I'll do whatever I can."
With the thermometer's sensors firmly on her fingertips, she pressed them to the first mate's forehead and stared at the read-out screen, waiting.
102 Fahrenheit/38.98 Celsius. And rising.
Belle almost flung the thing aside before pulling the blankets down to have a desperate look at Feliciano's shoulder.
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Feliciano
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Post by Feliciano on Jul 12, 2010 23:09:21 GMT -5
He found little comfort despite Belle's reassuring words, and kept himself still as the young woman pulled on her thermometer and set about taking his temperature. The cool pads of the device felt hellishly good on his forehead, and the italian craned his neck back at the read-out screen to see the outcome of his status.
One-hundred and two degrees and climbing.
His eyes would have widened in surprise if he hadn't felt so sluggish and sore. It was as if his entire body had been beaten with a sledgehammer. The brunette squirmed, uncomfortable with the sticky situation of his sheets, and tried to pay attention as the sudden draft caught him unawares, and the Belgian nurse bent over his wound.
Stretching his neck, Feli looked too. It wasn't pretty. Although the bullet had gone through cleanly, the charred edges of near-point blank range had singed his skin in an unpleasant way, and there was an unappetizing white ring of dead flesh around the wound that made him sick to his stomach. Speaking of which, his head was reeling. Really reeling. He wasn't even moving and he had vertigo. The Italian whined, lifting his good arm and pressing it to his temple.
"So hot," He panted, "And my head...aches." Feliciano felt thirsty, and like he was cooking in his own skin. His arm was warm, perhaps moreso than the rest of him, which probably wasn't a good sign if healing was the objective. "What's wrong with me?" He asked weakly, shivering.
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Post by belle on Jul 13, 2010 11:27:05 GMT -5
Growing up, Belle had rarely heard swear words, and never used them. But now, looking at the first mate's very not-healing wound, she couldn't help herself.
"Scheisse..."
She was shocked at herself for using it, but had more pressing matters at hand than a slip of her tongue.
"It's infected," Belle murmured desperately. How had that happened?! She'd cleaned it from both sides, given it the false skin to speed up the healing, and then bandaged it as carefully as she could. Obviously it hadn't been enough. It was bad; really bad. And it had taken that turn only over night.
Belle took a deep breath. Feliciano was miserable, he was making that much clear. His head was clearly aching on top of the fever.
"First we'll get your fever down," she told him, moving around her work area to gather what she needed. "Or at least keep it from getting any higher." Three cold pack and a near-icy bottle of water later she was at Feliciano's bedside again.
The blankets were already pushed down from her frenzy to see his wound, and he was already shirtless from the day before when she'd had to cut off his clothing to tend to the wound. Those factors in themselves were fine; she was able to place a cold pack on his forehead and chest without issue. The third and final one would be... awkward.
"I apologize in advance, Sir," she murmured before moving her hands down and unzipping his pants. His undergarments she'd leave on for his dignity's sake, but the pants had to go. With them out of the way Belle placed the last cold pack over his groin. It wouldn't be comfortable by any means, but it would help.
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Feliciano
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Post by Feliciano on Jul 13, 2010 13:00:30 GMT -5
Shit.
Well, hearing Belle curse definitely wasn't a good sign. He could tell it was infected, the question as to why...why...why was the ceiling suddenly fascinating? "Can you stop the room, please?" He begged breathlessly, absently noting that his throat didn't sound so good, either. "I'd like to get off."
Getting his fever down sounded good, especially since the wound flared again in renewed pain, and the Italian sucked in a sharp breath. "Ow," He whined in a rather unbecoming fashion, moving his head a little to see the blonde leave his field of vision and return quickly bearing several ice packs. They looked heavenly.
They felt even better pressed against his forehead and chest, and the last one...
"I don't care I don't care I don't care," he repeated, assuring the nurse that he'd be alright. Feliciano was, until the shock in temperature really hit him and he shook harder. The shuddering fever was worse now that he was awake. Teeth chattering, the Italian clenched at the sheets beneath him. Stop, please, just make it stop. "Clean it," He murmured, furrowing his brow and shutting his eyes, "Can't we clean it?"
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Post by belle on Jul 13, 2010 17:15:49 GMT -5
"Can't we clean it?"
"I will," she assured him, trying to keep both herself and the first mate calm. Mentally, she cursed not finishing medical school. She could clean the wound again, or at least try. She could drain it, perhaps even cauterize if necessary. But the part about keeping patients calm... aside from her own instincts and tenderness she didn't have any training there. She'd dropped out before most of the psychology-related classes. Maybe if he had something to bite on while she tended to him...
Right! The water bottle! It had a straw, a long one, attached, and he needed to stay hydrated anyway. She set it down on the table beside him, broke one end of the straw through the cellophane lid, and nudged the other end to his lips.
"Try to get some water down while I get things ready," she offered, stroking his damp hair out of his face before turning and hunting down her gloves and everything else she'd need.
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Feliciano
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Post by Feliciano on Jul 13, 2010 22:19:25 GMT -5
Feliciano swallowed the water obediently, coughing a little as it run down a raw throat. When was the last time he'd had a sore throat? He didn't remember it being like this the night before. It scraped with every breath and burned painfully as he drank. Chewing on the end of the straw, brow furrowed in worry, the Italian felt his chest heave with every shuddering intake of air.
"Ready?" He squeaked with no small amount of panic. "What kind of 'ready' are we talking about?" While the cool, gentle fingers against his sweating forehead were nice, they didn't last long and the blonde soon turned to gather her 'things'. Struggling to ingest some of the water offered, Feliciano quit halfway through another sip to shiver uncontrollably. He had chills.
Hot.
Cold.
Hot again.
Cold again.
The dichotomy of sensations warring within him was confusing and physically hurt. "Are you going to use tools?" Feliciano panted, straining to turn and see exactly what was going on. "Don't...don't cut me open..."
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Post by belle on Jul 13, 2010 22:51:26 GMT -5
"Are you going to use tools? Don't...don't cut me open..."
The first mate was really, truly worried and... scared. She'd never seen him scared before. His big, brown eyes were actually nigh terrified. His expression made her heart hurt.
"I'm only going to do whatever I need to in order to fix whatever I did wrong." Yes. What she did wrong. She was the medic. Ludwig had entrusted the health of the crew to her, and she had failed. Feliciano was sick and, in some tiny little nook in her mind she acknowledged that he could even die. But she stowed that for now. She forced that thought away. The first mate needed her.
Belle pushed her tool cart over and stopped before pulling on her gloves. Yes, he was shaking, but something told her that wasn't just the fever and the chills arguing with each other. Nervousness probably had a factor. She took his good hand in both hers and stroked the back of it.
"Right now, I'm going to take the false skin and the dead skin off, and clean it," she said. "Then stop the bleeding." She decided to avoid the mentioning the possibility of needing to cauterize it. For now. After a moment, she added, "should I page someone... to help take your mind off it while I work?"
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Feliciano
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Post by Feliciano on Jul 14, 2010 0:30:05 GMT -5
"It's not your fault," Feliciano said quietly, thoughtfully, examining the ceiling and marvelling at how once-boring tiles were warping and swirling beneath his scrutiny. It wasn't Belle's fault, and it wasn't Gilbert's fault...perhaps it was his own fault; but Feliciano wasn't in the mood to hold a conversation on personal existentialism with himself, so he cleared the thought from his mind.
It was surprisingly easy to clear his thoughts.
Belle held his hand. She was so sweet. He'd never noticed how sweet she was until now, when she was trying so hard to take care of him for something that she had no blame in. "Fake skin off, dead skin off, clean it," The Italian repeated slowly, digesting the information and processing it a little slower than usual. He nodded a little, thinking over the young woman's offer and deciding to take her up on it.
"...yes, please. Bitte. Just...I don't care who you call; the captain's probably busy, so...ah...use your j-judgement?" He squeezed her hand weakly, still trembling. Anything to take his mind off of this.
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Post by belle on Jul 14, 2010 0:50:21 GMT -5
Truthfully, she didn't want to call the captain, and Feli's reasoning that he was busy could have been a good excuse not to. Ludwig would be furious about this, but he also knew the first mate better than anyone on the ship. They had been friends since their days in the AFN. Also, though she hated to think it, he'd also be the best candidate for holding him down if that was needed.
It was only about 6:05 AM at this point, so the PA system was bound to wake a few people as her voice echoed through the halls, but they would get over it, or hopefully be sleeping heavily enough not to be woken by it. Besides, it was loudest in the captain's quarters and on the deck. Belle stroked the back of Feliciano's hand once more and went to the PA equipment by the door.
"Calling Captain Bielschmidt to the infirmary," she said into the mic. "Please come at your earliest convenience." Now a little nervous herself about what the captain would say, Belle turned back to her patient.
Since the cold packs were turning a pale violet from their blue, indicating that they were warming up with the Italian's body heat, she removed them, setting them aside on the floor for now. She pulled a light blanket over him instead and then pulled on her gloves. She'd start now. Maybe then the captain would just focus on his first mate and save the yelling for later.
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Post by Ludwig on Jul 24, 2010 12:13:35 GMT -5
Ludwig's days in the military had his internal alarm programmed to wake up at six o'clock in the morning on the dot. It didn't matter how late he was up the night before, or how late he had the opportunity to sleep in. Years of waking up regularly at a very specific time had that effect on you. Usually, Ludwig would roll over, glance at the clock, grumble to himself about it being exactly six o'clock, and roll back over to catch at least another hour or two of sleep.
And if there was anything that anyone on the ship knew, it was that the captain was a very, VERY deep sleeper. It was nearly impossible to wake the man up before his internal alarm went off. And by nearly impossible, that meant the chances were very, very slim to none. Fortunately for Belle and Feliciano, (or unfortunately. Wether or not was yet to be seen) the page had come at 6:05. This meant that Ludwig's internal alarm clock had already awakened him, the stage of grumbling had already passed, he had procured his share of the covers Gilbert had stolen in retaliation for Ludwig managing to kick him to the edge of the bed sometime during the night, and he had already begun to doze back off. This also meant the page was able to snap him back to consciousness very quickly.
Belle's voice over the intercom startled him, and jolted the German man awake, if only for the fact it was so very unexpected. Once his heart began to slow down to a normal rate once more, Ludwig sighed. This couldn't be good... Paging him to the infirmary could only mean that something was very wrong with Feliciano. And of course, that wasn't good at all.
Ludwig wasted little time prying himself from between his blankets, and pulling on some clothes to make himself look somewhat presentable, spurred by the panic induced adrenaline rush. Running his fingers through his hair did little to tame the mess, sticking out in every direction possible. But that didn't matter right now.
It wasn't much longer before he was walking through the door of the infirmary, concern lining his tightened jaw line. "What's wrong?"
(Edited due to a very demanding brother of mine. 8|)
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Post by belle on Jul 24, 2010 12:30:03 GMT -5
When the captain entered, Belle had turned Feliciano onto his side as carefully as she could. No doubt it had caused a bit of vertigo, but she had to get to the exit wound on his back somehow. It... didn't look much better than the one on his front side. The false skin hadn't attached properly to either wound and was itself beginning to take on the infection.
"His wound... became infected," Belle murmured, not looking at Ludwig. The captain did not take mess-ups or bad news very well. Yelling was sure to follow and Belle was not looking forward to that. "He's really miserable right now, so if you could just... try to take his mind off it while I clean him up again...?" She made this request timidly and prayed that the captain would listen.
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Feliciano
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Post by Feliciano on Jul 24, 2010 15:59:56 GMT -5
Panting shallowly, forehead runkled in a deep frown, Feliciano willingly twisted onto his good side and felt his stomach heave at the unwanted motion. As if he wasn't uncomfortable enough already, now he was nauseated. Swallowing down the little water he'd consumed earlier and shutting his eyes, the Italian concentrated on shutting down the rest of his body to combat the burning infection in his shoulder. Legs; motionless. Eyes closed, breathing slowed - he struggled to pinpoint the immediate location of the pain, rather than the general area.
"The subscapularis," He rasped, clearing his throat. The smaller man resisted the built-in urge to stand at attention as his captain entered the infirmary. "It's what's in...infected." He made a face as another twinge of pain shot through the affected muscle. "It goes all the way through the infrasp...spi...spinatus." He shook a little, fighting off a slight chill. Feliciano hadn't anticipated an infection of this nature; he hadn't anticipated any infection, to be honest, since the wound had seemed so clean the first time around. He wouldn't put it past the AFN to manage some sort of sick, twisted, poisoned bullet, though.
The dull throbbing in his arm flamed again and he whimpered, hating how vulnerable he felt. "Do something...anything."
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Post by Ludwig on Jul 26, 2010 11:01:58 GMT -5
Any sliver of drowsiness was gone by the renewed surge of panic that swept through Ludwig. "I-infected?" it was reflected in his voice has he spoke. "How?!" He was at Feliciano's side in an instant, his own breathing mimicking the poor little Italian's own pained breaths.
How could it have become infected? He had watched Belle clean and bandage that wound! Well, he caught the end of it of course... Even still. It eluded Ludwig how it could have become contaminated in the pristine conditions Belle was sure to keep the infirmary in, as well as the caution she had taken to Feli's wound. If ANYONE's wound should have been infected, it should have been Gilbert's, as much as his brother had been moving about, and the trouble he got into. NOT Feliciano's.
Ludwig took Feliciano's hand in his own, and urged the brunette gently onto his back once more. And he inspected the wound. It was disgusting. The dead skin was blistered, and pus seeped as Feliciano's immune system expelled bacteria... Bacteria... oh god... The bacteria and germs just... crawling and infesting that wound...!
Ludwig averted his gaze and fought back the impending gag. He'd seen worse. He'd seen far worse. This was nothing. Well, it was SOMETHING, but he had indeed seen worse. He could do this.
The German took in a deep breath, and watched Belle gather the necessary materials. Ludwig's bedside manner wasn't exactly the best, Gilbert could vouch for that. (Perhaps it was a good thing he was rejected from med-school after all. But he didn't want to think about THAT incident at the moment.) But he tried, and that was all that mattered.
He brushed Feli's sweat drenched auburn hair from his forehead, and concentrated on NOT PANICKING. "...It'll be alright..." No it wouldn't be alright! Who the hell was he kidding?!
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