Mortality [Final Countdown peeps]
Oct 12, 2014 21:01:56 GMT -5
Post by Artemis on Oct 12, 2014 21:01:56 GMT -5
Nolan had never really been a man much given to fear.
He had left home as soon as he was old enough, started life over across the district from the safety of home in search of some excitement, still worked in a quarry that had its share of cave-ins (two of which he had been in himself), and hadn't slowed down in his taste for fighting in spite of his age.
None of that, not even nearly being buried alive inside the mountain, compared to this.
Nolan had left the Staff Sergeant that had come to break the news to him in the dust, not caring as he ran towards the doctors that had come out to the hovercraft to receive them. He had no idea how long it had been since Brody had been hurt, or even what had happened to him, and Nolan wanted answers.
"You must be Mr. O'Rourke," The male doctor, a short man in a long white lab coat greeted him.
He stopped in front of them, frantic with worry and already irritated at the pleasantries.
"Yeah." He replied, looking between the two doctors; behind him, the Staff Sergeant was catching up. "Where's my son? What happened?"
"Corporal O'Rourke is... in surgery." The female doctor replied, her tone soothing but betraying her apprehension at having a tall, burly, very upset father on their hands as they tried to explain to him why he couldn't see his son.
The male doctor started in, "We're not at liberty to tell you what happened to him--"
Nolan seized the front of the doctor's lab coat, hauling him up until he was face-to-face and dangling a few inches off the ground; his son was wounded, and this motherfucker wasn't going to answer a simple question...?!
"What. Happened. To him." He snarled, every word punctuated and venomous enough to kill.
The female doctor rested her hand on his arm, the bedside manner turned on suddenly like a light switch.
"Mr. O'Rourke." She said gently, though her tone was firm and no-nonsense (so much like McKenna, he thought offhandedly). "I can't tell you all of the details. But your son the Corporal was shot."
The anger drained out of him so fast it nearly gave him vertigo; Nolan lowered the other doctor to the ground (who, rather nervously now, straightened his shirt and coat), nearly able to feel himself go pale.
"Is he...?" Nolan hesitated to finish his question.
"We don't know yet." The female doctor replied, holding her arm out to direct him to follow her, "But I need you, and your wife when she arrives, to help me with a few things; as Corporal O'Rourke isn't conscious, you being his next of kin will have to approve of his treatments and procedures."
Numbly, he followed her; she made idle talk, introducing herself as Doctor Airmid, and explaining to him (as gently as she could) the graveness of Brody's situation. He had been very near death's door when the Peacekeepers had brought him in, but was being tended to by the best surgeons the military had to offer; Brody was still in surgery, and it wasn't certain yet when he would be out again.
It wasn't entirely certain yet that he would even live.
Nolan didn't know what a gunshot wound to the stomach entailed, nor did he want to know.
It seemed utterly ridiculous to him to have a pile of forms put in his hands as Airmid went to tend to other matters, talked through the process by a kindly old nurse that was old enough to be his father. He didn't ask questions, just put his name on whatever needed signing. They could do anything they wanted if it would save his boy.
Take my blood, take my breath, take my heart, take whatever you need just please, save him.
McKenna arrived shortly after him, the male doctor in tow looking still more roughed up having received his wife; they didn't speak, Nolan merely stood and took his wife in his arms, holding her tightly and suddenly painfully aware of how much he was shaking.
Both of them knew a day like this could come.
Neither of them ever imagined it would actually happen.
"He's in surgery..." He told his wife shakily, much too shaken up to try and keep a straight face. "He'll be okay... he has the best doctors they've got."
His wife had been a doctor herself for the Peacekeepers, and she'd know exactly how good they were; not knowing yet where in the balance their son's life hung, though, was almost worse than the news. She paled visibly when he informed her that Brody had been shot in the stomach, to say nothing of the apparent broken rib he'd suffered on top of it.
Now he really didn't want to know.
Being able to do nothing but wait was going to be agony. But if they lost Brody, Nolan knew that his world would come crashing down around him.
So they waited.
He had left home as soon as he was old enough, started life over across the district from the safety of home in search of some excitement, still worked in a quarry that had its share of cave-ins (two of which he had been in himself), and hadn't slowed down in his taste for fighting in spite of his age.
None of that, not even nearly being buried alive inside the mountain, compared to this.
Nolan had left the Staff Sergeant that had come to break the news to him in the dust, not caring as he ran towards the doctors that had come out to the hovercraft to receive them. He had no idea how long it had been since Brody had been hurt, or even what had happened to him, and Nolan wanted answers.
"You must be Mr. O'Rourke," The male doctor, a short man in a long white lab coat greeted him.
He stopped in front of them, frantic with worry and already irritated at the pleasantries.
"Yeah." He replied, looking between the two doctors; behind him, the Staff Sergeant was catching up. "Where's my son? What happened?"
"Corporal O'Rourke is... in surgery." The female doctor replied, her tone soothing but betraying her apprehension at having a tall, burly, very upset father on their hands as they tried to explain to him why he couldn't see his son.
The male doctor started in, "We're not at liberty to tell you what happened to him--"
Nolan seized the front of the doctor's lab coat, hauling him up until he was face-to-face and dangling a few inches off the ground; his son was wounded, and this motherfucker wasn't going to answer a simple question...?!
"What. Happened. To him." He snarled, every word punctuated and venomous enough to kill.
The female doctor rested her hand on his arm, the bedside manner turned on suddenly like a light switch.
"Mr. O'Rourke." She said gently, though her tone was firm and no-nonsense (so much like McKenna, he thought offhandedly). "I can't tell you all of the details. But your son the Corporal was shot."
The anger drained out of him so fast it nearly gave him vertigo; Nolan lowered the other doctor to the ground (who, rather nervously now, straightened his shirt and coat), nearly able to feel himself go pale.
"Is he...?" Nolan hesitated to finish his question.
"We don't know yet." The female doctor replied, holding her arm out to direct him to follow her, "But I need you, and your wife when she arrives, to help me with a few things; as Corporal O'Rourke isn't conscious, you being his next of kin will have to approve of his treatments and procedures."
Numbly, he followed her; she made idle talk, introducing herself as Doctor Airmid, and explaining to him (as gently as she could) the graveness of Brody's situation. He had been very near death's door when the Peacekeepers had brought him in, but was being tended to by the best surgeons the military had to offer; Brody was still in surgery, and it wasn't certain yet when he would be out again.
It wasn't entirely certain yet that he would even live.
Nolan didn't know what a gunshot wound to the stomach entailed, nor did he want to know.
It seemed utterly ridiculous to him to have a pile of forms put in his hands as Airmid went to tend to other matters, talked through the process by a kindly old nurse that was old enough to be his father. He didn't ask questions, just put his name on whatever needed signing. They could do anything they wanted if it would save his boy.
Take my blood, take my breath, take my heart, take whatever you need just please, save him.
McKenna arrived shortly after him, the male doctor in tow looking still more roughed up having received his wife; they didn't speak, Nolan merely stood and took his wife in his arms, holding her tightly and suddenly painfully aware of how much he was shaking.
Both of them knew a day like this could come.
Neither of them ever imagined it would actually happen.
"He's in surgery..." He told his wife shakily, much too shaken up to try and keep a straight face. "He'll be okay... he has the best doctors they've got."
His wife had been a doctor herself for the Peacekeepers, and she'd know exactly how good they were; not knowing yet where in the balance their son's life hung, though, was almost worse than the news. She paled visibly when he informed her that Brody had been shot in the stomach, to say nothing of the apparent broken rib he'd suffered on top of it.
Now he really didn't want to know.
Being able to do nothing but wait was going to be agony. But if they lost Brody, Nolan knew that his world would come crashing down around him.
So they waited.
ffffff - Brody O'Rourke
cc1313 - Jeran Ruze
c44462 - Kyanite Ruze
1979e6 - Matthew Dunham
b60000 - McKenna O'Rourke
bb7d00 - Nolan O'Rourke
ffcc00 - NPCs/Airmid
570091 - Vy Pryce
