no hope in the air, no hope in the water, not even for me your last serving daughter;

[cailisairgid]

Who: Nuala, Dr McCoy, NPC Hellsing aids; possibly others later.
What: Nuada's first attempt is a failure.
Where: Hellsing Guild Hall
When: Today.
Warnings: Violent injury; reference to violence; medical treatment; ping me if I missed something.

The first hint something isn't right feels quite the opposite; some faint sensation in the back of her mind that should be there, shouldn't it, some presence that is always more notable in absence. She's too occupied with her own work for that edge of determination in someone else's jaw to do more than steel her own spine, deep in conversation over the CiD and tapping a closed fountain pen against the edge of a notepad. It's routine and admittedly mostly for peace of mind on both sides -- they're circling the wagons with the advancing elections, but there's only so much anyone can do until they know what the situation is after -- which is why, later, Nuala will wish they'd been busier. That there'd been something that needed her attention and the conversation hadn't been permitted to meander over more varied subjects, that she hadn't still been on the line when, pacing her office, she'd been so violently wrenched to her knees.

She has a half-second to despair of what the grapevine is going to sound like tomorrow when the pain hits her full force and she realizes the sound she's hearing is coming from her own throat, gold blood soaking through her sleeve, her skirt, spilling down her arm and her thigh. Her short-lived cries bring her nearest aides in at a dead run, one shutting down her CiD and another dispatching someone else to fetch Dr McCoy while endeavouring to keep the princess conscious as anaphylaxis begins to set in, heart-rate rushing and leaving her no breath to scream Nuada's name.

This is going to be difficult to explain.

Comments

[aviophobia]

McCoy is in his office, sorting through paperwork and going over what he'd missed over this last month (fucking hell, a month; he's lucky he managed to get his job back at all) when the door to his office flies open, revealing a breathless and rumpled aide to the princess. He makes a gesture, unable to put breath to words, finally managing to gasp out - "Princess - hurt - "

That's all he needs to say before McCoy is grabbing his tricorder and hyposprays and bolting past the aide and up to the princess' office, where he pushes open a door and, shoving his way in, kneels next to Nuada. Clicking on his tricorder, he begins to scan her, his other hand fumbling with the hypospray cartridges, ready to load whatever is necessary.

[cailisairgid]

Her injuries seem impossibly extensive for being on a woman otherwise undisturbed - her clothes not torn, no one in the room but her - but solving that particular mystery isn't the immediate concern. The wounds are on the left side of her body, around her thigh and upper arm, open welts like jellyfish sting on steroids; she's feverish, breathless, her heart pounding in her chest as her body spasms in reaction and her vision swims, focus blurring in the pain.

At least she seems aware of him-- struggling to pull her mind together enough to try to tell him-- something?

[aviophobia]

Finally, brows furrowed, desperately confused, he yanks out an epinephrine cartridge, fits it into the hypospray and presses it to the junction of the princess' neck and shoulder, firing the hypospray into her skin. "Don't try and talk, Princess," he snaps brusquely, then grabs for his dermal regenerator (thank God that came back with him), working over the horrific open wounds. "Let's get this taken care of first."

[cailisairgid]

Nuala swallows, or tries to, and tries to obey that; the wounds, mirroring Nuada's somewhere (almost within her reach and it's all she can do not to throw all her strength behind reaching out to him--) close sluggishly, slower than it seems they should, the medical attention aiding Nuada but his lack of it slowing Nuala here. The spasms wracking her body ease, at least, and she clenches her hands into tight fists against the hard floor underneath her for something like a semblance of steadiness.

It wouldn't have so severe if he weren't near; she can't think beyond that.

[aviophobia]

He's concerned by the way the wounds are closing; it's way the hell slower than it should be, and maybe whatever species the princess is doesn't react as well to the dermal regenerator? But that's impossible, the epinephrine worked so the dermal regenerator ought to, too. Once the wounds are closed, he whips out the tricorder again, checking her vital statistics, eyes scanning over the readouts, then goes for a painkilling cartridge, pressing it to her skin and firing it into her veins, trying to ease her wracking.

[cailisairgid]

"My brother," she says, when she can breathe, ignoring his previous exhortion not to talk; her voice is hoarse and weak, still, but she's determined. "My brother, it is my brother's injury--"

[aviophobia]

"Princess, I said - " And then he cuts himself off, struck by her words, and sits on his heels, brow furrowing slightly. Within a moment, he's pulling the tricorder back out, scanning her, the furrow between his eyebrows deepening. "What do you mean?"

[cailisairgid]

"We are as one--" there's an unpleasant wheeze in her voice that sounds like it hurts, but though her own brow furrows she pushes on, inhaling as deeply as she can manage, "--he and I."

[aviophobia]

"So this - " he gestures to the golden blood on the floor, the healed but still angry looking wounds on her thigh and side, the unpleasant wheezing horribly apparent in her voice - "is because your brother got hurt? Something happened to him and it came across to you?"

[cailisairgid]

Sparing her voice, pressing her eyes tightly shut for a moment as the painkiller soothes enough of the stinging burn in her body to let her think, Nuala nods once. She gives herself a few moments, her nails pressing pale half-moons into the palm of her hands, and then, "It is ... 'classified information'," to use the popular human phrase she's become best acquainted with through her encounters with organizations of British and American governments.

A token investigation into this event will be required to keep it that way, but that's something that can be worried about when she's breathing reliably; in the meantime she manages to sound slightly apologetic that he hadn't been previously made aware.

[aviophobia]

"Don't worry, doctor-patient confidentiality; I'm not telling anyone." He presses his lips together and keeps scanning her with the tricorder. "But. You're still hurting. Is ... he still hurting too? Your twin? I can't fix you till I fix him?"

[cailisairgid]

"We can't be healed singularly-- not fully-- this will speed our healing, but his injuries keep mine open--" It's becoming rapidly clear to Nuala that she really should have made sure one of Hellsing's doctors was aware of this before it became necessary to know; it was an oversight, but it's too late now and at least they've learned and McCoy will know, in future, if it happens again.

"He isn't here. In the city." But he's near, somehow, she can feel it. "We will need...time."

[aviophobia]

"So I can't heal you." His voice is annoyed, but there's also a tinge of something that might be despair. It's a doctor's worst nightmare: something he can heal, something he should be able to heal, easily, but because of something totally out of his control, he can't. "Are the painkillers and all that helping, at least?"

[cailisairgid]

There's a glimmer of something like bleak humour in her eyes-- "Well, I can breathe," she says, even if the quality of her voice isn't what it usually is. "I will-" a breath, "I will need to be...attended, I need to keep stable, it will...it will help him."

(She remembers sleeping through battles, hoping that that way she might not distract him with her agitation while he fought--)

"It is a damned thing, I know," quieter, and he can be added to the incredibly short list of people who've heard her swear. Having to walk him through this in a pool of her own blood is-- well, it's her own fault, she knows, but she's so tired and it would be so nice if she'd had a hint of Nuada that didn't tear parts of her open.

[aviophobia]

"I think you're okay to be transported down to the medbay," McCoy says, scanning over her again with his tricorder, not pleased with the results, but knowing it's way better than it could be. "We can keep you more stable there. You up for it?"

[cailisairgid]

With an unsteady exhale, unclenching her hands with careful deliberateness, Nuala nods. "Yes-- yes, I think so." There's so much work she still has to do, and there will be a great deal to clarify and arrange to keep this from spreading halfway across the city in inconvenient forms, but for now she forces herself to concentrate on the immediate future. One metaphorical foot in front of the other. She can't do any of that from the floor here.

[aviophobia]

"All right." He nods to a couple of aides, giving brusque orders for them to get a stretcher from the sickbay on the double. As they rush off to fetch the equipment, he turns back to the princess, keeping a close eye on her vitals. "Scale of one to ten, your highness - how's the pain?"

[cailisairgid]

"A six," she says, after a moment's thought, a furrow in her brow; Nuada's training and battle experience has long since taught her about her own high pain threshold, but coping with it doesn't mean it isn't bloody painful. "I would say-- I think it helped, whatever it is you gave me."

[aviophobia]

He nods, then checks the tricorder again, scanning her vital signs, his dark eyes flickering over the readouts. "We'll need to wait before I give you another dose. You'll feel better once you're not on the floor."