captainhornblower | Fourth Dispatch

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Fourth Dispatch - [voice]/[action]

(After this [log rated R for violence]

Italics should be considered to be coming from Archie's journal, as it has been left open and on, but Horatio does not know this.)

[Footsteps approached the door, and it opened.]

Archie, I'm--

Archie! Archie!

[The man speaking hurried over and dropped down. His hand covered the fingers on the display for a moment before it slid up, pressing against the wrist. A pulse of some kind.]

Thank God... Archie. Archie, can you hear me? Archie!

God damn it.

What sort of bastard--

God damn it!

[He's on his feet, moving about. There's more than a bit of noise. Thuds and cracks. Things being discarded without care.

He approaches, sinks down beside his friend and throws open his own journal...]

Damn it. Bastard withcraft journal. Work, God damn it!

[He's gotten the voice on.

And instantly, his voice is calmer. He knows what he needs to do, even if his hands are shaking. Fabric is being ripped as he speaks, and he's half panting.]

D-Dr. McCoy.

Dr. McCoy, if you hear this, please. Please respond.

Archie-- Archie's hurt.

I need help.

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How not good?

Is he breathing?

[please say yes. Please say yes. Please say-

Nevermind. If Len's in the house, he'll have heard her even if he missed the journal. And with Archie at stake, she knows he won't linger. Whirling on her heel, she's out the door as fast as her feet can take her, abandoning house 7 and following the familiar path to Archie's apartment]

[ McCoy had heard the broadcast and felt his blood turn cold. Arch. goddamn it. he opens his journal to respond to Horatio's distress call when he hears Jilly hollering and abandons this idea, opting to just grab his medical kit from his room, and take off after the artist. ]

Jilly, slow down!

Miss Jilly!

[Oh no. Oh, no. He hears the movement. He knows.]

Miss Jilly.

I only need assistance from Dr. McCoy right now.

Stay where you are.

Len...

[she staggers to a halt just long enough for the doctor to catch up, thrusting her journal at him so he can talk to Horatio. The instant she's done so, though, she's moving again, heading for Archie's apartment as fast as her legs can take her.

That sound, Horatio? That would be the sound of her ignoring you]

Jilly, will you just hold on a--! Damn it.

[ resigned that he wouldn't be able to stop her, McCoy glances down at the journal shoved at him and starts moving again, following the wayward artist running on ahead. ] We’re on our way, Hornblower. What's the situation?

Stabbed twice. Shoulder and back. There's...

Blood everywhere.

I've got... makeshift bandages... [torn sheets, but he's a Navy boy-- he'll use anything available] Pressure on the wounds. [It was all he knew to do, and his greatest fear was that it would make the situation worse.]

I don't know who. I wasn't here.

[the way to Archie's is so familiar she could run it blind. And whatever else had come of this, the move to House 7 meant they were close. So close. She stumbles a bit on the apartment stairs in her haste, tripping into the door frame as she fumbles with the handle to get into the main hall, but once there it's only a few short steps to Archie's door. One shaking hand pushes it open....and she freezes in the doorway, just staring]

[Blood. On the floor, on the journal, on Archie. And on Horatio. His uniform and white shirt are stained... and so are his hands. Long and thin, bits of tanned skin show through, but they are almost entirely red.

His face is pale, all colour drained from it, and his dark eyes are almost vacant as he looks up at the girl in the doorway. Almost, for a moment, as if he doesn't know her.]

[ McCoy catches up with Jilly standing in the doorway to their apartment and, for the split second, the doctor freezes at the sight awaiting them too. he can feel panic well up in his chest when he sees Archie and the blood... good god, just what the hell happened in here?

regaining his composure, he strides across the apartment. ] You've done good, Horatio. Real good. [ McCoy reassures him as he kneels next to Archie and his eyes are drawn to his left shoulder. tentatively, he pulls away the fabric and inspects the wounds. looks like whoever stabbed him managed to miss the axillary artery. small miracles. ] Keep applying pressure there. I know he’s your friend, but don't worry about being too firm with him.

Jilly, we're going to need your help. [ McCoy is acclimatized to seeing horrors like this -- Jilly isn't. but he doesn't have a choice right now. ] I need you to find something to make a stretcher so we can get him to the medical centre. Do you think you can do this for me?

A stretcher.

[the words are dull, almost hollow in her ears. Like she was speaking down a tunnel with the scene far removed.

Archie. That was Archie's blood. Archie's lying there and-

She shudders as she forcefully pulls back from the thought, the whole situation crashing home and becoming painfully present. Her stomach lurches, but she nods, making herself step out of the doorway]

What-

[breathe] What do I use?

[McCoy's voice breaks the trance, and Horatio's animated again.

A moving skeleton of a man, but moving nonetheless. He presses on the wound that McCoy pointed out and nods.

He's seen to too many wounds-- large and small-- to worry about too much pressure. A firm, steady hand. That's what's needed. At least for now. Until the professional medical man can handle him.

Jilly's question. He can't think of her as a woman right now. What would he tell a midshipman?]

Sheet. There are sheets on the beds. Layer them so they're firm enough to support the weight. For the sides...

[He's trying to think. He's trying. But--]

God damn it, break the chair legs if you have to!

[His shout isn't angry. Just a frustrated commander who does not know what orders to give.]

[she doesn't bother with a response. Just runs for the bedroom, remembering the location from her week living in these rooms.

She doesn't bother with the sheets. Flimsy as they are, she just takes the quilt instead, ripping it from the bed. Once it's off, though, she stares at it blankly, a puddle of fabric at her feet.

Break the chair legs if you have to!

There was no way. None of the chairs she can see have long enough legs for that, even if she had the strength to do what Horatio had suggested.

There's a sick tug of panic that she has to force down again before she can move. Think, Jilly. What was long enough for sides? While the men work, she'll just cast about, looking desperately for something they could use]

[ McCoy blocks out the two of them as he grimly asses the wound on his lower back. he curses under his breath. goddamn it. whoever stabbed him managed to hit one of his kidneys and he snaps his head up. ]We need to get him to the medical centre, now!

[ there's a notable sense of urgency and panic in his voice; he's running against the clock here. who knows how long he was bleeding out in here until Horatio came back. ]

[Horatio's bloody hands flex, even as he keeps up the pressure. His mind is racing, but his limited experience with anything like this makes him little help, and he knows it.

Stretchers were useless in the Navy. Too many narrow doors and too short a distance from any two points on a ship. If a man could not walk? He was carried or dragged.

He looked up at McCoy. It was all he could offer.]

I can carry him, if nothing else.

[the shout only serves to quicken her breathing. She's already moving as fast as she can. Cabinets or closets are thrown open, looking for anything that could be long and sturdy enough to act as handles, until a storage cabinet in the kitchen reveals a mop and a broom, neatly tucked away.]

Alright! Alright...I'll-

Hang on!

[and then it's running. Back to the bedroom to drag the quilt to the blood soaked living room. Back to the living room where the two men crouched by a dying friend.

She doesn't let herself register the blood. Not yet. Instead, she focuses on the stretcher. She might not have Horatio's mathematical mind, but her visual acuity is excellent, and she can picture it, her mind already formulating how to make these materials come together in the way they need.

Nevermind the red that was already seeping into the quilting. She lays out the blanket with shaking hands, sets the handles at what seems to be a proper distance, and then layers, carefully doubling the fabric so that it can bear more weight.

They couldn't risk the fabric coming loose and dropping him. That's the thought she focuses on as she tries to tuck the ends where Archie's body will be enough to hold them in place]

[ McCoy takes Horatio's offer under consideration and nods, vaguely sensing Jilly's return to the living room as he takes the injured man's wrist, feeling the pulse flicker beneath his fingers. ]

Is it ready?

I- [don't know.

But there wasn't time for uncertainty. She swallows] -I think so. Yes.

[and she'll step back. Or, stagger, really, not quite steady on her feet as she moves out of the way]

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