closed.

[tonsofpun]

Who: Ellie (tonsofpun) & Dr. John Watson (hadbadays)
What: While killing time, Ellie decides to run a delivery of food and antiseptic to John's clinic, and finds something they'll both wish they hadn't.
When: D438
Where: Yakuzen Clinic
Rating: PG-13 for language and eventual body horror. And some major spoilers from Ellie's canon. CW for body horror.

Things are starting to become more dire around the city. Thankfully, by the time Ellie comes, the clinic is mostly empty. John must be between patients.

Normally, she doesn't drop in on people while they're working -- but Ellie can't deny being curious. It's so much cleaner than the med bay in the school, where they had haphazardly taught Ellie how to clean and stitch horrific wounds. It even smells clean.

Clutching a bottle of iodine and a wrapped sandwich, she makes her way to the back and knocks on the doorway. She puts both hands into the room first, wiggling sandwich and iodine, before popping her head in with a smile.

"Loooook, I brought presents. Need a break?"

Comments

[tonsofpun]

Another of those small, quick nods. Even John is going out of his way to be comforting, which means this is some real bullshit. Ellie takes a deep breath and goes pick up her things, tossing her clothes right into her backpack for easier carrying, holding her shoes.

She follows him, barefoot and small and pale. For once, she's not talking at him.

[hadbadays]

It's unnerving to not have her meaningless chattering in his ear all the time. This was more the silence he finds in Sherlock's company, one where there's far too much thinking because Sherlock's mind is never quiet. The fact that Ellie's isn't and that she doesn't choose to speak what it is ... says quite a lot.

He can't find it in him to break the silence either, though. Not until he lets her into the room with the MRI scanner, and he gestures at it.

"Go lie down," he says, gently.

[tonsofpun]

Ellie's backpack slides from her hands, and she clutches the gown closed with her fingers, staring at the huge machine. It looks like some kind of space-age transport device, and as cool as that is, she can't help but worry what it's going to find.

She tries to remember that she's still got a fully functioning brain. She doesn't appear to be damaged, so it can't be that extensive. Probably just a few spores, right?

Taking a deep breath, she climbs into the device, laying down on her back and squeezing her legs together, telling herself to breathe.

"Okay. Let's do it."

[hadbadays]

He nods, and takes his place at the scanner. It's best to just get it over with, so he doesn't stall or double check on her. If he could be more sure of how widespread ... whatever that's in Ellie is, he'd not do a whole body scan. He does it as quickly as possible, of course, and he rubs his brow when he finishes, heaving a quiet sigh.

This is important, but he can't help but be worried himself about what they'll find.

"All done."

[tonsofpun]

She has to be absolutely still for it, and she's never wanted to squirm out of her own skin more. Her arm is itching like mad, the back of her throat too warm, her stomach turning. The second she can move again, she hauls herself up and out of the machine, taking a few deep breaths to fight the sudden claustrophobia and calm down.

"... what have we got?"

[hadbadays]

"You're in a rush."

These scans, at least, show up on a computer in the same room, so she doesn't have to wait more. He leads her over to it, and zooms in on the upper right side of the body. Where the bite is.

And it definitely doesn't look like it should.

[tonsofpun]

Clutching the gown closed again, she comes over to his side, all messed-up hair and too-pale limbs. In battle, behind a bow and a gun, using her god-powers, she's an incredible force to contend with.

Now, she looks more than ever like what she actually is. A skinny little girl, barely even a teenager.

She makes a sound. It's like a gasp, but deeper. It sounds like she's about to throw up.

The strange growths are all through her arm, entrenched in her muscles, nerves, sinew. They are scattered through her lungs and heart, wrapped around her spinal column. They are behind her eyes, her nose, growing into the roof of her mouth.

And there are so many of them in her skull that it's nearly impossible to see her brain.

The room feels hot, and suddenly it's difficult to breathe. She doesn't feel particularly steady on her feet.

"Jesus."

[hadbadays]

Honestly, he wouldn’t have expected it to be so bad. She looks completely fine, aside from the bite on her arm, and he’s shocked too. Tries not to show it, though, because it has to be so much worse for her. Even if, when he looks at this, he wonders what he could possibly do about it. Because he wants to, he does, even if it wouldn’t make a difference in the end.

He takes a deep breath, as discreetly as he can, and puts an arm around her shoulders, squeezing her upper arm.

“I think we should probably keep an eye on that,” he says quietly.

[tonsofpun]

John's arm around her is welcome, mostly because she feels like she might fall over, or throw up. She's gone quiet, chills pulsing through her as she tries to process the information, the visual.

She can't tear her eyes away from the image, even as it begins to blur. It's like some kind of freaky nightmare. How is she alive? How can she still be herself? How has her body and mind managed to coexist together with the fucking parasite inside her?

It takes a minute or so for John's implication to sink in, to realize that even if they're calling her "immune", this isn't fucking normal. It could be a slow process. This could be killing her by inches, and there's no guarantee it won't take a detour somewhere in her brain and grow into somewhere it shouldn't. Somewhere that would leave her a gibbering idiot, a vegetable, insane, violent. Could grow into whatever makes her who she is and... that would be that.

Except that it's had a year to do that, and it hasn't.

Ellie reaches up, lays her hand over John's, around her shoulders. She shuts her eyes. Then, she nudges out from under his hand, looks up at his face. She gropes for what to say, finds nothing of substance.

"... please don't tell anybody."

[hadbadays]

The fact that she even feels the need to say it ... Well, he supposes she grew up in a completely different world. Or perhaps it's more because she doesn't know what else to say. But she really doesn't have to, because she doesn't have a legal guardian and there's no person he could possibly be obligated to tell.

It's all up to her.

He pulls close a zipper over his lips.

"Doctor's oath. I've no right to tell anyone. Not like you have parents or guardians."

[tonsofpun]

Ouch, John.

The hurt only shows on her face for a second before she manages to hide it, but she can't hide the way her shoulders stiffen, the way her mouth twists to one side, the way she pauses for a couple of seconds before she turns away to pick up her pants, sliding them on beneath the gown.

"... you can tell Sherlock. It might help him. I dunno."

She rolls her shoulders, distracted, already far away, shutting off, casual, as if this isn't bothering her. The act falls into place like a bad habit.

[hadbadays]

It's there long enough for John to realise that was really not the right thing to say. Not that he wouldn't have come to that realisation even without that reaction from her, though, because it's just ... stupid. Stupid.

"Sorry," he says quietly, and scrubs a hand over his face. "I'll tell him."

For now, it's probably best to let her go home. Process this. As much as he'd like to keep her here and maybe discuss it more, or at least make sure she's fine ... It's ultimately up to her.

[tonsofpun]

"It's true," Ellie tells him, perhaps to quickly, almost defensive. "I mean, you're right."

He is right, and there's no fucking point in getting sentimental about it. Joel's not her dad. Hell, he doesn't even have any say over what she does, what choices she makes. She's old enough to be making these decisions on her own.

Come to think of it, she always has.

Ellie slides her shirt on over the gown, then does a little shimmying beneath it, slides the gown out from under it. It looks like a trick she's got down pat. She arms herself before she even reaches for her shoes.

Her eyes are prickling, burning, but she's keeping it together.

[hadbadays]

"Ellie ..."

This isn't right. It just ... Damn it, of all times to fuck up, he chose this one. When she was already feeling vulnerable because of the situation and the environment and what they just saw. Of all times, it had to be this one.

He wants to fix it someone, but he doesn't know how. This is just ...

He leans his head in his hand, and whispers to himself.

"Fuck."

[tonsofpun]

Ellie watches him through her lashes as she ties the laces on her shoes, puts away her gun down the back of her pants. Horrible place for it, but she's gotten used to not having a proper holster.

She feels like an asshole for getting him involved, for making him worry. He's a doctor, but that doesn't mean shit in the face of something like this.

Not for a moment does she believe that he meant to hurt her feelings. Normally, she'd laugh it off. It wouldn't touch her. But like this, she can't deny that it stings. She sighs, rubs her nose, and gives her very best shot at normal.

Pulling on a smile as best she can, she shrugs her shoulders.

"Don't worry about it. Or me. I'm good. We're good."

[hadbadays]

“I’m rubbish at this,” he says and huffs a laughter, dropping his head for a moment. “And I’m honestly not quite sure how to … Where to go from here. But, hey,” he grimaces, and shrugs, “it’ll give me something to do when I’m not seeing a patient.”

He’s trying to not make it seem like he’s completely terrified. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting to find, but he didn’t think it would have spread beyond her arm. And it’s in her head. What’s stopping it?

And what can he actually do? In the end, she’ll just go back home to the same old situation, and even if they do figure something out here … It’s not like she can bring it back with her, is it? So what’s really the point?

He rubs his forehead, and gives her a smile in return. “I’m going to worry about you anyway,” he says, and puts a hand on top of her head as he passes her to open the door.

[tonsofpun]

For the record, John's good at not looking scared. But she can feel the tension on him, coming off in waves. It makes her want to hold her breath and not take up too much space.

Maybe she shouldn't feel so guilty. Maybe she should be feeling more afraid for herself. This could be a death sentence, but it feels like... she's known all along. She's always been living on borrowed time, on other people's sacrifices. On luck. It had to run out someday. Whether it's the thing in her brain, a stray bullet, or a bite, death has never been far out of reach.

She just feels... tired. And his fingers in her hair make her ache deep inside.

Worried about her.

Dammit, he cares. He cares, and all she's ever wanted was for someone to give a damn about her. She cracks a smile that doesn't look like a smile at all, rakes her hair back from her face, fakes it.

"... yeah. I know you will."

[hadbadays]

He stops by the door, holding the handle as he turns partly towards her and cracks a smile in return. Smile and bear it. Hard to say if that's the way to go, but right now it works.

"Right. So no point in telling me not to."

[tonsofpun]

The smile loses some of the strain, and she pushes her fist against his upper arm as she heads through the doorway, taking her things with her.

"... thanks, John. Really."

[hadbadays]

Well ... If she's going to be sincere, he supposes he can respond sincerely too.

"You're welcome."