In Sheep's Clothing.

[hrothgar]

The underground... a fitting place for an Earth Dragon don't you think? The coincidence would have amused Hrothgar had he actually been in any kind of mind to appreciate it. At the moment, however, he was not afforded the luxury. Appreciation of things would have to come at a later time when there weren't sick or wounded to be treated.

There was plenty of time, though, for a more pessimistic assessment of his surroundings. First of all, there was no natural light down here. Everything was done by lamp or Flourescent light, both of which had a tendency to cast everything and everyone in a sickly pale light. As if this were not enough, the lights were being powered by the main generators which were fickle at best. There was no way to tell when the lights would suddenly bump out, but if Hrothgar had wanted to be anywhere else he would have been outside instead of in here, some strange beacon of hope amidst the masses of the huddled and frightened. Here he was an angel of mercy in the darkness, and in his little tent he held the compassion of heaven. Selflessness clung to the man faster than any of the dirt dragged past his aid station, for dirt could always be washed off next time someone brought back clean water, but his desire to help would require something a little more powerful.

Perhaps selflessness was only fitting for him though. The days passed seamlessly down here and sometimes he could not tell how long had been awake. Even amidst the strange frenzy of this underground bastion of humanity he had not forgotten the questions that ached at the back of his mind.

How much longer Hrothgar? how much more time does Luther have before you have to throw him away and find a new face? What will his next name be? Luther Krantz? Luther Turingen? Luis Carriger? How much longer do you have Luther? before you have to die again and let them forget you...

Identities, they shifted through him like frames on a film projector, each one a story in and of them selves, changing angles and moving slightly each time until they became a blur that displayed one trute reality..... How could he have any sense of selfishness if he had no true concept of self? He didn't have a name any more, not one he could still relate to, not one that defined who he was in any real shape. All he had was an idea, an idea of what he was supposed to be in this world.

You were sent to help them. You are a healer, of all things this is what defines you most. Forget the weapons picked up in anger, forget the lives you couldnt save, forget the shots fired in the night to fight back the flood of inevitabilty.... Who would you be if you a single voice willing to stand up and shout at the endless void that you would not go quietly?

It was 12:30... just past midnight. It was hard to tell what midnight meant anymore. The Caverns down here just went on and people always needed help... Three armed men carried in their brother in arms.. laying him out. Hrothgar could see the bullet wounds still fresh. Good men, they'd tried to stop him up before dragging him here. Hrothgar didnt ask why, he didnt ask where.. He simply rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, the red stains on the cuffs all the way up to the elbows had long since turned a deep muddy brown on the fabric. He gave a nod to them, letting them know he would do his best and that they should wait outside. He slid on a fresh pair of latex gloves and looked down at the young man.

The lad's eyes were full of fear...He made a noise as if to speak but it was hushed quickly by Hrothgar. With those caring eyes, ever so gently crinkled at the edges he gave a smile before jamming the global anesthetic into his arm and reaching for his surgery tools.

"Don't worry pal..." He said as the man's eyes grew heavy. " You're in good hands... I'm a doctor. "

[rebecca]

Fluorescent lights are not the most pleasant thing to wake up to, or a careful but unintentionally rough rocking motion. She'd been seeing a stream of images for what seemed like forever, and now, she was waking up with a splitting headache, strands of blonde hair tangled and falling over her face and then down into a lank golden mass of soft strands. When her eyes did blink open, she couldn't stop from crying out slightly - The light hurt Rebecca's eyes, her aching head protesting not only the movement but the invasion on the comforting blackness that had lain behind closed eyes. The rocking was easy to figure out after a moment, as well - She was being carried.

There was some sort of foreign fabric in her mouth, tasting of the faint tang of tobacco and blood. She struggled to make words through it, finally spitting out the fabric where it came to rest on her collarbone. "Let go of me!" She cried out, voice hoarse with hours of disuse and confusion. Rebecca was struggling against the man holding her. Her arms pushed uselessly at his strong chest, the dry, heady smell of dust and blood clinging to him like a signature. The man looked down at her apologetically, a faint, creaky smile twisting at the corners of his mouth. Her thin legs were held securely in his left arm, her light torso in his right, carrying her weight like it was nothing, ignoring her shoving hands and distressed expression.

"Sorry little miss. Doesn't work like that." He responded. "It's that leg of yours." He pointed downwards, and Rebecca's blue eyes widened imperceptibly - In the harsh, unforgiving light it was easy to see the blood soaked, torn clothing on her upper left leg. Rebecca patted the blood stain with one hand and winced, her head unable to make the connection between the gash on her leg and how it'd occurred. When did I get that? Unbeknownst to her, blood was also dried in a cakey mess on her upper lip where it had streamed from her nose. At her pained expression and confused eyes, the man hurried to add: "We found you collapsed at the boundry with your leg all mussed and practically screaming your head off. Sorry about the gag, little miss."

"My head..." She murmured, both of her small, pale hands coming up to cradle it gently, unaware of how childish the motion must have looked the the man carrying her. Every light and noise, every movement just made her head scream out in pain. "I bartered... This colony... Earlier... Rebecca, not little..." She managed, and the man above her nodded kindly, not able to make sense of what Rebecca was trying to get across. She'd left this colony just hours before after making a rather profitable barter with some of the people inside, and after a duly noted warning of the gunfire that was being exchanged, she'd taken leave, feeling just fine. She'd been especially careful to avoid the places where fighting was rampant, but had kept a knife close at hand, even though she hadn't needed it at the end. The last thing Rebecca remembered was the ground coming up to meet her, and meet her hard.

"Well, Rebecca, you're going to need stitches for that leg." He said, and came to a stop outside of a tent where there were three men, battered and with downcast eyes, waiting patiently. "Found her around the eigth, not one of them. News?" He asked, and one of them just shook his head.

"You're going to have to wait. Multiple gunshot." The other man replied, and the man holding Rebecca looked down at her sympathetically, just shaking his head. She looked downright pathetic, fair skin made pasty by the light, body limp and eyes blinking wearily, still trying to cover her face from the world that was now spinning around her hazily. Instead of struggling, she now clung to the man, unconditionally trusting his strong arms and kind voice, some sardonic part of her that was detached from the pain in her head telling her to give him a discount on whatever he wanted next time that Rebecca came around to barter.

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[hrothgar]

He'd had centuries of practice, he'd dealt with gunshots back when they were still a new invention. The experience of several lifetimes surged through his memory now as his hands moved almost as if on their own. With the patient out cold he could deal with him swiftly... the bullets were in deep but this was no problem for someone who had his gifts. They were fresh wounds and easy enough to remove if he acted quickly. Moments passed in stern silence, the only thing marking the passage of time was the clink every few minutes of an expended round dropped onto a metal tray. Five clinks in total followed by more silence...

It was this silence that seemed to weigh the most on the minds of those few men standing outside the tent. The tension in the air was abated only by the grim sense of fatalism they all had. Whether their comrade lived or died was out of their hands and all they could do now was trust the doctor and hope that God wasn't quite ready to call in his debts. The lights inside the tent ensured that all they could see was a diligently moving shadow cast against the white tarp canvas, their only sign that the doctor was indeed at work. It was a frightening thing sometimes... all at once that nondescript shadow was merciful for sparing you the horrors of watching the surgery and cruel for making you sit in wonder with only guesses as to how the patients were faring.

Minutes dragged on in the eternity of that silence... but by and by he tent flap opened. He stood for a moment, expression hidden by a surgical mask, eyes showing signs of wear in that strange unending battle he fought between the needs of his body against the needs of the community. Sleep had been a strange to this man for much longer than most would have allowed themselves, but his hands were true, and with a simple nod he let them know that their bullet ridden friend would see death some other day.

The men picked their things up moving to go take their friend to a more comfortable resting place as the doctor turned now to the injured leg approaching the tent. "Bring her in..." he said with a smile, pulling down the surgical mask. He was tired, but experience had told him that he was never too tired to smile... too many lives had been lost for want of a friendly face. His eyes found hers.. warmth and humanity lay there in those eyes.

"Its okay now, you're in good hands."

[rebecca]

The man holding Rebecca set her down gently, and practically had to peel her hands away from her claw like grip on his arms. "Relax, little lady." He said gently, and she reluctantly relaxed, eyes staring up suspiciously at the man above her. She'd seen the other man being taken away and he hadn't looked like he was doing too bad, but she'd never been one to trust the doctor types - She'd known a raider who had gotten an infection and died after a failed surgury. Not to mention she hated needles with a passion, and stitches would be terrible.

However, there wasn't much she could do about it right now. Rebecca was practically out for the count, one with her leg, and two with her pounding head that demanded she stopped any movement and turned off the lights. Rebecca turned her head away from the doctor, letting her blue eyes slide shut for just a moment. "Leg... Then I leave..." She said faintly, voice low, wishing the walls of the tent would stop spinning. She'd accepted the fact that she had to be fixed up by this man, but she wasn't happy with it. What am I going to owe him, anyways?

"Just relax, little miss. Doctor takes good care of his patients." the man who had carried her in said genially, then tipped his head to the doctor before going outside, leaving Rebecca alone with the man. She felt unnaturally small, even for her slim frame in this strange place. All she wanted was for her head to stop pounding so hard, to give her a little peace. She rubbed at her mouth self conciously, feeling the caked blood on her upper lip and pulling her hand back in disbelief. Rebecca hadn't even realized that she had suffered a nose bleed, and from both nostrils as well... That was why there was the metallic taste of blood lingering in her mouth. Still, she waited awkwardly, unsure of what the doctor person wanted her to do.

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[hrothgar]

The tent flapped closed, leaving them alone in the calm stillness of the aid tent. A few moments of tense silence passed as he turned his back to her to go about a quick cleanup and prep. The place had a remarkable order to it, even amidst a world lost in destruction and ruin there was some sense of civility here, a feeling as though everything in this tent were exactly how it should be. The operating table consisted of a cold metal table that looked like it had been stolen from a morgue. He had done is best to line the top of it with old towels and sheets to give it a more comfortable feel but this feeble upholstering did little to hide the cold steel surface underneath.

The table where he stood now was composed of another steel countertop where he had organized his tools and a small kettle full of boiling water. She could see him at work as he dropped the old tools into the boiling water, the only form of sanitation provided in the tent, and drew out fresh clean ones. A clean hypodermic needle was pulled out and laid on a small tray next to tongs, forceps, tweezers, a scalpel. The tray was brought over and set down beside her leg.

With everything at the ready he gave her a knowing look, as if to say that the next few minutes would not be pleasant, and she would have to be strong.

He worked fast now, cutting her pants leg open and pulling it up like an empty sleeve and tying it off above her thigh freeing the leg underneath. With a clean rag and water he started to wash the blood from her leg to get a better idea of what lay in wait for him. A sigh of relief emerged from his lips as he saw the nature of her wound. "Goodness.." He exclaimed. "Quite a lump you took huh? Don't fret too much, it looks worse than it is." His eyes looked up to meet hers again, that warm smile of his crossing his lips before being covered up by the surgical mask.

"So if you don't mind me asking then miss, how did you come by a scrape like this?" He asked, his voice taking on a conversational quality. "I'm sure its no place of mine to ask really, but curiosity being what it is, I cant help but- Now hold still you'll feel a bit of a pinch, just a bit of anesthetic three ....two.... one... eeeeeexcellent- I cant help but wonder sometimes you know?" The needle was removed swiftly from her leg and placed aside on the tray, the next thing his hands picked up was the needle and sutcher wire easily going to work now on sewing the wound back up.