simon_doctor | (no subject)

(no subject)

[Approximately one minute and ten seconds after the end of this.]

The infirmary, River said. The captain. Injured.

And something about Red he didn't fully understand, but it can damn well wait.

Simon hits the infirmary door at a dead run, already looking about for Mal.

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Doesn't need to look far, really. Mal hasn't moved from the chair he landed in when River got him into the infirmary.

He also may be unconscious. Tough to tell, what with his head facing away from Simon, in the direction he fell in.

There's ... rather a lot of blood. It's still welling up from the wound, slowly, steadily.

Simon's left hand has automatically gone to cover the wound, putting pressure on it, as he crouches beside the chair.

"Mal. Mal, can you hear me."

He doesn't, at first.

As though his head weighed a million pounds, Mal does eventually move it, and prybar each eyelid to open half-mast, saying nothing at the moment. It's a start.

Without help he'll never be able to get Mal up onto one of the operating tables. There doesn't seem to be anyone else within shouting distance, just now.

Well, and so.

"Mal, I'm going to try to move you down to the floor," he says, "so I can deal with that wound. If you can put pressure on it, right here --"

Carefully as he can, he takes Mal's right hand and moves it to cover the bullet hole.

Mal's hands have been slick with blood since the stables, and Mal's still with it enough to remember pressure pressure pressure but only barely. His left hand comes to meet his right in order to improve the sluggishness and slow-motion movement of his hands, but they just slip over themselves. Mal's ring, red covering gold, slides off Mal's finger and hits the floor while Mal maintains his right hand over the bullet wound.

His head is finally lifted, and Mal is looking straight at Simon.

There's something unbearable about that silent regard. Which could be why Simon's focusing on the wound in the captain's gut, and not on the one in his eyes.

(Some analytical portion of his brain has noted where the ring fell, for later retrieval.)

"All right." Calm, his voice, and calming; a practiced bedside manner. "We're going to move now; try to help me --"

He keeps up a running commentary in a low, reassuring voice, as they slowly ease Mal out of the chair and down to the infirmary floor.

One inch, then two, then a precarious almost-straight drop to the floor as Mal crouches off the chair. With Simon's help, Mal straightens both legs and sits upright on the floor before carefully being laid back with a loud groan, the first sign of noise coming from the captain since Simon's arrival.

The floor's not too cold, but he'll need something at least to put under Mal's head. A folded blanket perhaps. And gauze to cover the wound, and sterile gloves, and that's all before he even gets started --

"All right, good. Keep pressure on the wound. I'll be right back."

Simon straightens from his crouch.

Mal's arm moves quickly for someone so injured, a bloody hand coiling around Simon's ankle and a firm grip keeping it there.

A plaintive look from the proud captain on the floor, up at the doctor who he was ready to beat up not more than two days ago.

Simon stands utterly still for a second, then crouches again.

"I need to get a few things so I can take that bullet out of you. I won't go far, and I'll be back quickly."

Very carefully, he pries Mal's hand loose.

"You're going to be fine," he tells him firmly, as he rises and heads in the direction of the supply cabinet. Anaesthetic, an extractor, sutures....

Mal's keeping an eye on Simon at the very tall supply cabinet.

(Anything's tall from a vantage point lower than Mal's boots.)

It's only when Simon's coming back toward Mal that it sounds like there is noise coming from some growling part of Mal's throat, though if Simon noticed, Mal's mouth had been moving from some time.

Simon isn't looking at Mal's face; he's got his eyes on his work.

The anaesthetic, right now; he's going to have to dope Mal before he can get the bullet out.

Mal blinks, and struggles to focus.

Simon can't hear him. Gotta Speak Louder

A strong, hacking cough, no blood coming up just yet. "...You came."

Surprise. Not a small amount of awe.

Surprise.

Which means Mal honestly hadn't expected him to come.

He's too busy just now to notice quite how much that hurts.

"Yes. Don't try to talk."

Load the ampule, sterilize the hypospray, check the dosage three times.

"I'm going to give you something for the pain."

Yes. Like a foregone conclusion.

Mal's head rolls away from looking at Simon - the bottom of the IV stand is more interesting anyway - and feels the injection only a few seconds before blacking out entirely.

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