crossing_lostrp | [George] tagging Methos, Eric, Michael [bump]

George stumbled to a halt and thrust the honking huge first aid kit at Dr. Pierson. "Here," she said. "One first aid kit, just like you wanted."

She looked down at Eric, who was apparently still unconscious. He was actually kind of cute in a stubble-y, and currently alarming pale kind of way. She knew he wasn't going to die today because he wasn't on her list, or Daisy's. But that was no assurance that he wouldn't die tomorrow, or the day after.

"Is he going to live?" she asked abruptly. She looked at Dr. Pierson. "Can you save him--now that you have that stuff?"

OOC: Original thread is two pages back, so I've bumped it to the top.

Current Mood: anxious

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From:

sophiedb.livejournal.com

Pleasantly surprised by the comprehensive nature of the first aid kit George had supplied, Methos allowed himself a genuine smile.

"He's not going to be running anytime soon, but if we can keep the wound free from infection he should be fine. That's going to be our biggest worry." And hello, there was even a small bottle of antiseptic solution in the kit, along with steri-strips - fan-bloody-tastic. "Unfortunately he might limp for the rest of his days, because that was a deep cut, I'm not a surgeon and this isn't a hospital." Methos discovered another treasure: a hypodermic needle and a vial of penicillin. Something to hold back until necessary, he decided as he replaced it in its compartment. "But it's better than death, don't you think?"

Methos pulled on a pair of latex gloves and doused a couple of swabs with antiseptic, starting to mop up half-dried blood around the wound before moving to the edge of the cut itself. The skin took on a yellowish tinge.

"Iodine," he smirked, looking back up at the young woman. "All these medical advances and we're still using the golden oldies. Would you mind holding Eric's head again for a moment? I know he's unconscious, but this might wake him up a bit." He rummaged in the kit once more, pulling out the steri-strips, some gauze and a bandage roll, handing them to Michael. "Make yourself useful and get these ready, ok?"

Opening the wound gently, Methos took a clean swab and dabbed lightly. He didn't want to interrupt any blood clotting, but in these conditions he may as well try to reduce the risk of septicaemia. He accepted the steri-strips from Michael, pinched the sides of the wound and used them to 'stitch' them together, followed by the laying on of gauze and wrapping the bandage loosely about it all.

"There," he announced, removing the gloves and offering a satisfied handshake to his two helpers. "That should help get the healing started, but I'll keep an eye on it to make sure and give him some mild aspirin when he wakes up."

Michael nodded, then gestured up the beach. "Say, you want me to make up a stretcher or a travois or something? You said he wouldn't be walking soon, right? And it might come in useful for others."

"Definitely," Methos agreed, nodding cheerfully. Then again it would be hard to chop down any of those saplings without an axe or machete, but it wasn't a good idea to shoot the guy down too quickly. He knew he'd been somewhat rude before, so he'd best start making up for lost time now. "Even a parachute would do - we could drag it between us."

From:

fikgirl.livejournal.com

"Actually," Michael suggested, "There are some seats that are still together. The springs break out easy when you know what you're doing. I can pop one flat and it will be a soft gurney. A couple of seat belts will hold him in place and we can get him back down to the crash site."

Michael studied the man, Eric, while he told Dr. Pierson his idea. He knew that he should be looking for Walt, but was comforted in the knowledge that his son had survived the crash and nearly untouched beyond a few bruises here and there. Eric hadn't been so lucky, and Micheal was glad to be of assistance.

(And we're on an island in the middle of the ocean, where can the kid go?)

Still it couldn't hurt to ask. "Hey, before I go grab a seat, I was just curious - you seen my boy?"

"What?" Dr. Pierson asked.

"My son, Walt. He's eleven." Micheal watched the frown on Pierson's face, and hurried to explain, "No, he survived. He's around here looking for his dog. He keeps getting away from me. I was just wondering if anyone had seen him - or a golden lab - around here."

[tagging Methos, George]

From:

sophiedb.livejournal.com

"No, sorry I haven't," Methos replied, his mind switching from the added bonus of the seat-gurney idea (it would make it easier to elevate Eric's wound), to thoughts of Alexa. He'd never had children himself, but he had essentially adopted a few.. and losing spouses to time and fate was something Methos knew all too much about."It's wonderful that he survived though. It's difficult to outlive someone you love, especially a child."

Swallowing a lump in his throat, Methos stood up straight and clenched his jaw.

"Come on, let's find that seat."

He left George and Michael in his wake.

From:

sinanju.livejournal.com

George traded looks with Michael. (Oookay,) George thought. (I guess now we know something about Dr. Pierson's history.)

"If...you want to go with him," George said to Michael, "I'll stay here with Eric, in case he wakes up."

From:

fikgirl.livejournal.com

Michael exchanged a glance with George. (Well, that explains a whole lot about his bad attitude,) Michael thought, (I may not have stopped asking for him years ago, but if I'd lost Walt in the crash -)

Michael didn't let himself finish the thought.

"If...you want to go with him," George said, "I'll stay here with Eric, in case he wakes up."

He nodded. "Yeah, I'll do that."

Then he jogged off to catch up with Dr. Pierson.

From:

sophiedb.livejournal.com

(Methos & Michael meet Locke (http://www.livejournal.com/community/crossing_lostrp/16958.html?thread=118078#t118078))

From:

sinanju.livejournal.com

George watched Michael jog off and catch up to Dr. Pierson. Then she plopped down in the sand next to Eric. His wound was bandaged and the tourniquet had been loosened. He was still very pale, but Dr. Pierson seemed to be pretty sure he'd live. That was good.

After watching Eric for another moment, George turned attention to the other survivors. Daisy was sitting with two other women near the fuselage, searching and sorting the contents of a plastic bag full of purses, laughing and talking.

The two remaining soldiers had separated, one talking to the unshaven man who walked with a cane and a decided limp. The other was was still talking to the wet woman in the vest. No--there she went, bounding off like a woman with a mission.

An asian couple were working together to create a shelter. The other survivors seemed to be getting organized, moving the injured--or extremely pregnant--to more sheltered locations.

Out in the sea, George could still see a couple of figures splashing around. The others...the others had swum ashore, or been rescued, or drowned. As she watched, a young man on the beach suddenly splashed into the surf and struggled out past the breakers, swimming doggedly until he reached a rock protruding from the surface. He clung to the rock, looking around wildly. George wondered who he'd been trying to rescue.

From:

caele.livejournal.com

And Eric gasped, waking up with a start. He sat up, breathing hard, before falling onto his side from pain. "Ow. Ow. Ow."

He took a moment to breath, check the shrapnel was gone, and wonder whethwer he was still alive, before looking George in the face. "Hey. I'm alive, right?"

(OOC: *grin* Ironic coincidence. Wonder what George would think, presented with a question like that.)