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B'Etor Patterson

First Aid

Marks fingers flirted with the blade in his stomach as he fought to stay concious. He had no clue where he was, he had already began slipping in and out of conciousness while the lizzard creature dragged him through the woods. Getting tossed into a pit certainly helped him to wake up however. He had no clue what his captors wanted, but keeping him alive obviously wasn't a big priority.


B'Etor grunted harder, starting to get some reange of motion and conciousness back. She coughed and rolled onto her side, squinting as if in pain. She let out a hard breath and saw nothing but the faint light above them and darkness. Great..can't see.. She moved her head around, managing to sit up, feeling stiff and achy, nevermind the splitting headache. "Hello?" She called out, only it came out like a grainy whisper.


"Eh?" Mark glanced around in the darkness. He couldn't see anything in the darkness. When did someone else get thrown in? Did he loose conciousness? Was he just halucinating? "Who's there?"


She heard something and knew it sounded familiar. She got onto her hands and knees, eyes adjusting to the light, giving her the ability to see shadows and objects. "Who is that?" She said, crawling towards it. Whoever knocked her out, obviously would not answer back, she hoped.


"Patterson?" He tried to move, failing miserbly. He groaned in pain. "I-It's Garrison."


"Keep talking.. I'll follow your voice.." She crawled towards the voice, the name confirming who it was. After a moment, she hit him in the shoulder and leaned closer, the faint scent of mud and lavender on her. "What happened?"


"I got dragged off. When I came too, some lizzard thing was dragging me. I tried to escape, but it didn't work so well." He grabbed her hand, guiding it down to the knife.


She looked down at him as he grabbed her hand, wondering if he wanted a cheap feel. She was about to protest when she felt the knife, pulling her hand back fast. "Oh... Lieutenant..." She started to look around, no longer caring about her muscle stiffness, stabbing headache, and throbbing neck where she was darted. "How deep.." She moved her hand down his chest, to the knife, grabbing the handle, measuring the size of it, then her hand slid down the knife itself, her hand feeling how thick, and how sharp. "About.. three inches in.. straight angle..." She looked towards where his head was. "Sir, I have to move you... to see if it went through your back.. Ok?"


He nodded, looking down at the blade again. "Do it."


She lifted his arm up, putting it around her shoulder as she put her hand under his back, feeling around, then pulling out. "Nothing. It is still inside you. That is good." She nodded and put his arm down. "Now.. we need to stabilize it.." She looked around, as if she could actually see.


He winced as he was laid flat again. "I dont have any equipment..." He paused, finally realising that B'Etor wasn't even with him when he got captured. "What happened at the camp?"


"Neither do I... Doug and I were talking.. I heard a hiss or a whisper noise, felt a sting, a moment later I was on my knees, losing conciousness." She then pulled her uniform top off, tearing the muddy wet part away, leaving her with two pieces of uniform, looking down at him. "My med pack is at the campsite. I know Doug, Beckman, and laurel were hit.. I don't know where they are... and I haven't seen or heard from the rest of the away team." She went to work on stabilizing the knife, so it didn't move.


Despite bleeding out, and the pain, Mark couldn't help but crack a small smirk as B'Etor removed her clothing. The ocasional nudge the knife kept him focused however. "Victria was out in the woods...and the Captain had just left...they might have escaped capture..."


She looked at him. "Yeah well.. if I don't get this knife stablized and your bleeding minimalized, I don't want to be the one to carry you out. I pride myself on having a 0% mortality rate with my patients.." She threw the useless part of her uniform and then felt her grey undershirt. "Don't get cheeky.." She pulled her grey undershirt, which was completely dry and shivered at the cold.


"I wouldn't dream of it..."


She rolled her eyes. "You are on the verge of bleeding out and dying, and you're gawking at my chest?" She sighed, wincing as she cracked her neck. "I thought you were Lieutenant Victria's anyway.." She said it softly, tossing the grey top over her shoulder, to keep it warm as she felt around his stomach. "Hmm.."


He winced. "She doesn't own me. Besides...I might as well enjoy the end." He paused as he followed her eyes to the knife. "What is it?"


"Your stomach isn't distended, and there is no bulging." She nodded and looked at him. "I have been on board for over three months, I have never even spoken to you, other than passing in the hall, and NOW you wanna stare at me? I require at least Dinner.. and two dates before anything cheeky.." She thought of Marius and let out a soft laugh.


"Well it keeps my mind off the knife in my stomach." He looked up from his wound to her. "Is that bad, is it supposed to buldge?"


"If you were distended.. or bulging, it would mean either you had internal bleeding, or one of your organs was swelling. Neither is happening, so that means you far longer than I anticipated." She nodded. She then went to wrapping the grey undershirt around the knife to stop the bleeding and hold the knife in place.


"Oh, good." He let his head fall back to the ground. "I wonder where the rest of the team is...maybe they've got them holed up in different...holes."


"I have no idea.. But your main concern needs to be you now." She then folded up the wet and muddy part of her outer uniform, folding it up, making the dryest, least muddy part available for him. "Here..At least lay on something un soggy." She lifted his head and placed it under his head, then sat next to him. "I have to admit.. This is not what I expected when we came here..."


"After three months on this ship, I'm not suprised by anything." He smirked. "For example, I'm bleeding to death, being attended to by a half naked Klingon."


"Only the Klingon half of me is naked, the Romulan half is covered." She smiled to him. "Don't forget the bizarre darting of almost all of the away team crew. And now I am sitting here, cold, because you are bleeding.. stabbed by something you don't know.." She nodded to him. "Sum it up?"


"It was some sort Lizzard...humanioid. Bipedal. woman...I think." His eyes wandered. "Wasn't very interested in talking when I was concious. You should consider yourself lucky they had darts for you." He trailed off, his vision fogging slightly. "I dont think I can stay concious much longer..."


"Oh no! You need to stay concious. The longer you stay concious the better. Tell me about.. Umm..Victria.. yeah.." She thought of something that would keep him budy for a while.


"Eh...Victria? What about her?" His eyes began to wander as he became less lucid.


"Anything.. How close are you.. What do you share in likes and dislikes.. Come on.. Sir, don't fall asleep..." She pinched his arm hard.


His eyes slowly glanced over to his arm. "Well...we both appreciate a good fight." He smiled. "She also likes blood. Lots of it." He chuckled, slightly delerious.


She looked around, shivering and let out a long breath, and a sniffle. "There has to be a way out of here... But I can't see anything.." She started crawling, to see if she would hit a wall, or something, anything other than another dart, or a lizard thing. "Wonder if we are the only ones here..." She let out a OOF sound and paused. "Doug... he's still out.."


Mark couldn't help rolling his eyes, even in the complete darkness. "Of course. It's possible they threw everyone down here, I have no idea how big it is."


She made a thud noise. "Well, that was my fist against the wall.. So I would say not too big, definatly not too small.." She tok a few moments and found Beckman, then laurel. "Ok.." She then moved back to him. "They are all still out.. you are my priority... How you holding up?"


"I've been better." He deadpanned. "It's not too bad yet, but to be honest...It's not a blade designed to be pulled out. At least with regard to it's victims life." He let out a small sigh which slowly turned to a grimace.

"You saw what it looked like? Before you were stabbed?" She looked at him and sat next to him, grabbing his wrist, placing two fingers under his thumb.


"It's my own blade." He looked away in embarassment. "I stabbed her twice before she lifted me up by the neck and did this." He motioned towards the knife. "They're incredibly strong and have a high tolerance for pain...or I wasn't hitting anything important."


"What type of blade is it?" She nodded, noting mentally his pulse was stable. "Incredibly strong, high pain tolerance.. shoulda taken me on.. I woulda given them a run for their money.."


He smirked, picturing the doctor and various ass kickery. "it's an old Earth design. Serated on one side with teeth on the other designed to dig into the flesh, and tear when pulled out."


She nodded, listening. "Kinda like..a suicide knife? Or a Katana?" She checked the dressings to see if he was still losing blood. "I think the bleeding stopped... How do you feel? Any new symptoms? Dizziness, hot flashes, anything?"


"I feel...weak. I think I've lost a good amount of blood. As for the knife, I couldn't tell you much. I sort of inherited it."


She looked at him. "Security minion who doesn't know his knives? Lieutenant, I am surprised. You should learn about the weapon before you play with it.. Knives are not toys you know.." She nodded, the natural Klingon in her coming out. "I may have grown up with Humans, but I know my knives.."


He stared her down, offened at the statment. "It's designed to kill quickly and efficiently. The knife was designed by an Alan Shepard on Earth pre-first contact. He was a black-ops solider for one of Earth's many nations. It passed through his family until I received it from Alison Shepard after her death."


She nodded to him, putting her hands up. "Alright, I'm sorry sir. Don't get riled, you may shift the knife." She looked at the knife, then to him. "Family Heirloom... Must be nice to have something of your past." She looked around, while they talked, as if trying to figure a way out.


"Like I said, it was her heirloom, not mine." He frowned as he continued to stare at the knife, almost in a longing way. "Go...go see who's all down here and check on them, I'll be fine."


She looked at him. "I am not leaving you. If they do not come to in about an hour, I will check on them. You are critical, you are the priority. Sorry to tell you, but you are stuck with me.. No one moves you, unless I say so..."


Mark looked over to her, his eyes breaking from the knife for the first time in a while. "Go check on the rest of the away team Lieutenant, that's an order."


She looked at him and smiled, shaking her head. "You are injured, as a doctor, I do not have to follow your orders if I feel there are a danger to your life. You are of higher rank than I am.. but I do not have to follow that order." She looked at the dark silhouttes of the other AT members. After a moment she looked back to him. "But I am concerned.." She moved away from him, doing as ordered anyway.


He watched her fade into the shadows before letting his head fall back. He was touched by her defiance, but as critical as he was she had a responsiblity to the entire team. Grasping the blade, he tried to loosen its grip, but didn't get far. It wasn't very fun without pain meds. His arms fell into the mud uselessly, he slowly sighed and glanced around. There wasn't much to do but stay awake, and alive.

Edited by B'Etor Patterson

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Nice entry guys; you both gave us the "hole" picture.

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