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God Save the Man ( and the Leg )

the disembark to ENGLAND marked the beginning of a transitory alternative universe in which neither the days nor the time held a significance of paramount proportions for the medical specialist, and suffocating in work was somehow the only way air found its way back into her lungs. gaia’s and her fellow agents’ deaths weighed heavy on her still, and their lifeless faces etched themselves upon a brain that would never be able to forget, despite every belief she might have and every deity she may worship, how UGLY mortality is. rhea had settled more comfortably at the infirmary rather than her new room ( and truth be told, still got the number wrong a couple of times a day --- it goes without saying that some things cannot be unseen ); laboring non-stop for fuck knows how many days on end. she not only HAD to make the most of her time to avoid reliving the back-stab olympus had sustained, but because for over four years her allegiance belonged to only one, which meant her KNOWLEDGE on every patient was more thorough than any file case or medical chart could provide, and knew them better than any doctor in london ( who was a little bit more problematic or childish and loathed to be in a bed for longer than ten minutes, agents whose trypanophobia forced them to hide or those who downplayed their injuries---she just knew. )

so, OBVIOUSLY, when she got the chance to take her daily nap to come back to business and was already having her third dream at last, soter had to PULL THIS CRAP.

evidently, her rage was not originally aimed at soter ( despite being rather non-existent ), but to zeus and poseidon. at first, rhea had no way of knowing soter was even on the chopper that landed atop the new operational base, hence why when her eyes caught a glimpse of their seemingly stoic bromance, all she could think of was how SATISFACTORY it would be to fondly knock them into NEXT YEAR for keeping her in the dark about their whereabouts. SURE, she was in no position to demand anything of them, but taking into account the lamentable chaos unleashed by her alleged comrades a little consideration would’ve been highly appreciated.

not like ANY OF IT mattered the second her heart sunk into the pit of her stomach, gusts of wind sent off by the main rotor jumbling her long ebony tresses as the world fell quiet at the less than pretty view. it was only ONE SLOW-MOTION SECOND, if not less, but it was all the experienced medic needed to let the situation register, and to get ready for what could be her worst case yet:

soter was flat-lining.

right before her eyes, the portable monitor was yelping. brushing off the hair out of her face into a messy but tight ponytail, rhea sprinted to the stretcher as the helicopter’s blades beat the air, and it suddenly felt as though every motion was being fast-forwarded. and it was. without wasting another second, rhea climbed up to the stretcher, striding soter’s frozen body to begin CPR as they were transported inside into the medical floor. he was hypothermic, that much was obvious, but in attempts to increase his temperature, he was COVERED with covers covering covers; any further information was still unknown. with a single look, she adjured for FACTS, and they complied.

❛ agent soter, thirty-eig--- ❜ really...? ❛ i KNOW that, get to the DAMN point!! how long has he been down? ❜ chest compressions had already started, what the hell did it scream ‘we have time for the fucking basics smiley face’ to them?

❛ uh, a few seconds before we landed. we have... multiple fractures; ribs, leg. possible concussion. burns, cuts, bruises all presumably caused by the explosion. ❜ c’mon, soter. ❛ temperature of 101 when found, dropped to 95 on our way here. ❜ and chances were, it was lower now.

shit, shit, shit. fuck. fuck.

❛ you, clear the trauma room, stat. GO. ❜ and with that command, the medic tilted his head back, lifted his chin, pinched his nose and gave rescue breaths as she covered his mouth with her hand, his skin made of steel and ice. ❛ c’mon, soter. don’t fucking do this. ❜ she pleaded, unceasingly giving him CPR until they got to their destination, praying to dhanvantari as she prepped herself to bring him back and every vital sign ( or lack thereof ) was being monitored. ❛ you, give CPR and don’t you dare stop until I say so. and get him another blanket! and check his damn leg! starting central line, ❜ she announced, inserting a IV line into the superior vena cava. ❛ pushing 2 of epi. ------anything? ❜

after a few seconds, one of the nurses replied. ❛ still no heartbeat, it’s been fourteen minutes. temperature at 92. ❜ and, in a way, that was IT for them, as if soter’s temperature was quenching the flame within their chest that should keep every hope alive until the very end. not a single word required to be voiced in order to get the clear message in their dim eyes: DEFEAT. he is dead, and he is not coming back.

fuck that.

a red-colored scowl bound itself to her features, jaw jutting in disbelief. she refused to give up just yet---it was soter, for fuck’s sake. ❛ stop looking at him like fucking MORONS. he’s NOT dead until he’s WARM and DEAD. now, push one of ep--- ❜

and the monitor goes wild. which, not in a billion years would be her cue to give up.

❛ v-fib. hands off!! ❜ with soter’s exposed chest and fingers already tightened around the paddles, rhea shouted, ❛ charge to 200. CLEAR! ❜ voltage splashed throughout soter's entire cold body, passing through the heart muscles. nothing. ❛ ---i swear to god, soter, i will kill you with my own to hands if you don’t--- CHARGE TO 300. CLEAR. ❜

mission accomplished.

❛ ---we’re back to asystole, rhea. ❜ well, kind of.

❛ what time is it? should we call--- ❜

❛ we’re NOT letting him die. I AM NOT letting him die, ❜ she interjected unyielding, relentlessly compressing. there was still time. there was still time. she turned back quickly, and everyone seemed to agree that there was nothing else to be done. ❛ so, either one of you push one of epi RIGHT NOW, or get the FUCK OUT OF HERE, because i can’t save him and literally knock some sense into ALL of you. ❜ the room was silent until one stepped out, administering one milligram of epinephrine.

her dark widened eyes fixed on the monitor, though not long enough to check his vitals. her arms were going numb, but there was no way in hell she was letting anyone else take over, especially since their faith was so damn feeble.

❛ his temp? ❜

❛ up to 95, almost 96. ❜

good. that was GOOD. soter was overthrowing the hypothermia, but she needed a heartbeat. SOTER needed a heartbeat. three of epinephrine were already surfing through his body; she could try one of atropine or even calcium chloride, but the old pages of a medical journal failing to prove its effectiveness flashed before her. another possibility was performing a CPB and have panacea as a helping hand, but the flaw in that plan relied solely on TIME. how long would it take them to prep an OR? to get the surgical team? his body was warming up and, with each passing second, his mortality percentage decreased.

❛ c’mon, cooperate with me. get your wrinkled, old ass heart beating, soter. ❜ but in the stillness of his body, he did not reply. it was the first time she had seen him like this, so physically damaged. she pondered for a second if it had been the right decision to let HER treat him; personal attachments had proven to be troubling in the whole history of medicine. ❛ you’re gonna survive this. i promise. ❜ except its guarantee was not concrete, and no medic should make promises they couldn’t keep.

❛ okay, ❜ she started, her tongue sweeping over her now dry lips, swallowing with difficulty. ❛ another round of ACLS drugs, stat. ❜

this was the last chance.

her hands yanked away from his frigid figure, sight expectantly fixed on the monitor as the thunderous beep deafened her ears and her jaw tightened. this was just another uphill battle, and soter was a warrior. he wouldn’t give up. he couldn’t give up. he had been fated to endure the weight of the world already---was was this is comparison? he just needed------

a heartbeat. sinus bradycardia ------ a slow, although steady beating heart.

if only that was the end of it.

his heart was beating, he was breathing on his own, but whether there was brain function yet was still an unanswered question carved onto her mind. the wintriness of the appalachians had played a vital part on keeping him alive, and the first aid provided by his rescuers had undoubtedly delayed any major complications. rhea, alongside every other medic present, had already scrubbed in when the obvious was pointed out.

❛ his leg is a mess. ❜ or, you know, nasty as hell. where once was smooth skin, was now the crime scene of a psychotic butcher. they kept the bleeding at bay and had drained any fluids and pus clotting the injury. slowly, his body was recovering its color, so imagine her relief when his leg began to be painted with the colors of LIFE.

❛ yeah, osteomyelitis. which led to sepsis, ❜ she agreed, dredging out any of the smallest foreign objects they stumbled upon while cleaning. THIS was a prime example of WHY, if it were up to her, she would give herself assignments to work out in the field. sure, there also was that addictive rush of adrenaline to be where the actions was, but if the extraction team had taken her with them, she could’ve treated him earlier.

❛ amputating his leg is the easy way out, so i’d like to think no one’s even considering that course of action right now. ❜ and although her words did veil a threat, her voice was far softer than prior. a couple of medics lowered their sights, and some others kept checking his leg, as if they had already learned how obstinate she could be and how over her dead body was the only way to do it THEIR way. ❛ it hasn’t reached a osteonecrosis yet, so it’s salvageable. the next few days will be crucial to determine if any part of the bone dies, or if he’ll need a bone graft. for now, let’s remove any infected or dead tissue around the bone, shall we? ❜ and so, with her scalpel in hand, she commenced the surgery.

his antibiotic treatment had began by the time he was in the OR. soter had complicated things from the start ( or, you know, olympus’ treason ), so she was certainly not allowing him to suffer from a septic shock. one specifically instructed nurse was ready to attack in case his heart rate experienced any alterations, as well as his breathing and body temperature.

by the time the surgery was over with and MOST, if not all, of the threatening tissue was removed, soter was taken to the post-op ward, where she ensured to give the nurse the specific post-op treatment he was to receive for the next five weeks, give or take, and any other tests needed.

❛ we’ll need a biopsy to determine which bacteria are we battling against, a laboratory test to check his white cell count and a contingency plan in case fever strikes, a CT and a MRI as well. we’ll keep him on broad-spectrum antibiotics and fluids through IV until we find who’s to blame for the infection. ❜

drawing one last breath, rhea turned on her heels, approaching soter’s unconscious body. he was well. and it was only in THAT MOMENT when she allowed the exhaustion to kick in ( and truly, almost knock her out in the spot ). gazing down at her friend, she shook her head as a weary chuckle escaped from her lips, as though he had just made a borderline pessimistic/grumpy comment. ❛ don’t worry, pal. i’ll twist your nipples when you wake up. ❜

soter had been in her prayers for longer than she could recall, and to finally have him in one piece, right in front of her was miraculously, to say the least. her body plopped down onto a nearby chair, and as the monitor’s beeping was almost like a joyous melody and her eyes focused on the rise and fall of his chest, a small smile tugged at her lips in utmost CONTENT.

soter was alive.

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