tampered | Log: Ongoing

Log: Ongoing

When; The end of the mindreading day
Rating; PG?
Characters; Fujimiya Aya (

burningwhite) and The Doctor (

thefourthdoctor)
Summary; Aya is bleeding. The Doctor is bored.
Log;

Aya had spent far too much time slicing and hacking up the monsters crawling out of the underground. He had been wound up from the stress of this awful place, the stress of whatever was going on with Ken and Omi, the stress of not letting himself think about his sister ... and the moment he realized he could hear his neighbors thoughts, he'd run outside to escape it ... and then kept running across person over person who would shriek and scream and think the most horrific things. So he'd gone to the creatures who had no thoughts - just the mission to kill. He could cope with that.

But his body couldn't.

Omi'd wrapped his wounds well, but they couldn't hold forever. He was fine, in fact, until one particularly quick little bastard had bitten him on the hand. He could see bone and sinew and knew he'd been bested. Aya had gotten back to his apartment and tried to find someone to help him put his hand back together - he only had a small window of time before it would be too lifeless to patch up.

That was why he stood outside a blue police call box, knocking on the door with the end of his blood covered katana.

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He's bent under the TARDIS console, her guts spilling out in an array of wires and eletronic chips, when the knocking comes. He grunts, lifts his head to the level of the console and slaps the scanner. It reveals Aya standing before tha TARDIS doors, weilding a bloody sword and nursing his gnarled hand.

"So he actually came." Picking himself up off the door, he crossed to the controls that operated the door. Flipping the lever down sent the inner doors opening. He leaned against the console, crossing his arms, waiting for Aya to enter. "Come on, hurry it up man. You're letting the bad thoughts in."

Aya didn't need to be told twice. He stepped in quickly -- and faltered slightly. He recovered quickly and kept moving into the open area near the console. With all the things going on, he shouldn't really be shocked by the inside of a four by four police call box being insanely huge.

It was oddly silent within the TARDIS, but Aya wasn't going to complain. This man's thoughts seemed very subdued and calm, almost as if Aya would have to concentrate to hear them (which he wasn't going to do - he did not want to be in anyone's head any more than he wanted them in his). He tried very hard to keep himself calm and minimal as well. It only seemed polite. He stood, bleeding and wide-eyed, and then turned to look at The Doctor.

"... Hello."

"Hello yourself, you're bleeding on my floor," he snapped, but such was his nature that it seemed almost fond. Pushing away from the console, the Doctor crossed to Aya and examined his injured hand. It was a rather nasty looking cut, it seemed, seeping through the medicore bandages. "Bite?" he asked, and then without waiting for an answer, added, "Well, we'll have to disinfect it. Would you put that away!" he bellowed, gestured to the sword, which was actually dripping more blood than the hand.

"You're not very polite, are you?" As if realising he himself was being a bit unpolite, he straightened himself, adjusting the massively long scarf wound around his neck. "I'm the Doctor, by the way, and this is the TARDIS. You'll be safe here." As an aside, he added, "Or should be."

Aya wondered where he was supposed to put his sword. He looked about slowly, as if looking for the magic sword holder that was supposed to raise from the floor like a gift from god. His scabbard was long gone.

He let the older man rave, figuring that if he had some contraption like the TARDIS, he wasn't human, and thus didn't need poking at. With a slight shrug, he dropped his sword to the floor with a loud clatter. At least the blood would be in one spot.

"Abyssinian."

"Well!"

The Doctor eyed the sword where it had fallen, then decided to ignore it. Once the young man was sewn up--and perhaps bathed--he'd get him a wash rag and let him clean the mess up. Really though, the poor sword. It seemed rather heinous to leave it there, coated in blood. It was no way to treat a katana.

"This way," he said, ignoring the man's name, but filing it away for future reference. He turned in a swirl of burgundy coat tails and scarf ends, leading the way to the TARDIS infirmary. The interior seemed to stretch on and on. "Is it just the hand?" he asked.

Aya followed dutifully. Any other time, and he might be less inclined to trust a stranger. He'd end up blaming blood loss in the morning, he thought idly.

Hearing the inquiry, the assassin shifted slightly, face emotionless and -- ow. A particular twist of the torso let him know that at least his stomach wound had been aggravated. But he wouldn't be able to tell how bad until he saw it.

"I'm not sure."

"Well, off with the coat, let's see." He pushed open the doors to the infirmary--a stark white room (but everything on the vessle was stark white), looking not too dissimilar from any Earth hospital. Only there were a few rather more sophisticated things set about the room. The Doctor removed his own coat and scarf, draping them over a chair as he went to wash up his hands in a sink.

"I've not been in The City very long, you know," he mused in his deep baritone, "but I have discovered that the only really dangerous location is the Underground. Dare I even ask what you might've thought you were doing down there?" Once his hands were cleaned, he retrieved the medical kit from one of the drawers and headed over to assess the man.

Aya stared at him a bit like he was crazy. He couldn't take off his coat. It was leather and held on with a series of belts and buckles - and one of his hands was half chewed off.

"I wasn't in there. They came out."

"Right. Well. Next time they do, try running." He set the medical kit down beside the man and set about preparing a cloth with rubbing alcohol to clean the wound. "Did I mention I'm not really a medical Doctor? I'll do the best I can, but once we can free you from this coat, it'll be best to stick your hand in the Dermal Mender. It's not always precise, but is likely to be much better than I am. Do you need a shot of anesthetic? I only ask because some people are picky about that sort of thing." He discards the bloody rag and bends to inspect the wound closer. "Did you recognize what bit you? It could be important, regarding what sort of innoculations I give you."

Not a medical doctor. Dermal Mender. What.

He stared at the Doctor. Blankly.

"Sahh..."

Not really able to describe what hellish creatures had come in huge numbers from the bowels of the city, Aya decided to simply think loudly, eyes boring into the Doctor's. He'd been out for hours - killed a countless number. Horrible, twisted, disturbing monsters that might have once been human but would never be considered now. A gray, slimy, black blood spewing thing with one red, infected, oozing eye and sharp jagged dirty teeth leaping from beyond Aya's line of sight and biting into his hand at the hilt of his katana.

He stepped at the mental onslaught of images. The ability to project thoughts was harder inside the TARDIS--they weren't being bombarded from those outside--but it was clearly still working. It was like being back at the Academy, with Borusa picking through each and every abstract thought he had.

"Don't do that again," he warned. But the message had been relayed nicely--this man would need the whole lot of shots. Just to be on the safe side.

"All right, all right." He went back to the cabinet and fiddled with some Star Trek looking salt shakers that were, in actuality, anethestics to dull the pain, and a host of drugs to make sure he didn't get any infections from the creatures that'd bit him. He returned, injecting the spray into the curve of the man's neck. It would have a sharp pain, but perhaps unnoticable compared to the gnarled mess of the man's hand. "Okay, to the Dermal Mender." He lifted a closed shade, revealing a white medical device. After adjusting it, a little opening was revealed, just the right size for an arm to be slipped into.

"Hn."

Aya found this man awfully curious. Complaining of loneliness - he must have meant all of it, to be helping a stranger so selflessly, even though it was clear he'd rather Aya be fawning over him. The assassin almost began to, but then stopped himself short. The hell? Damn. He must really be injured. He knew he most likely left a disturbingly impressive blood trail halfway across the city if he was considering pandering to peoples egos.

... But what the hell was that? For all he knew, this man could be ready to slice off his arm and eat it for revenge for staining his floor. He winced slightly at the painkillers, not protesting for the sake of saving his energy, and then... they hit him rather hard. His vision got a bit loopy, and he obediently put his arm into the foreign contraption, which now looked less intimidating and just sort of funny.

The Doctor could somewhat sense the man's hesitation, so started the Dermal Mender quickly--it was best to get him as healed as possible now, before he spooked and tried to run.

The Mender gave a low churning and emited a heat as it healed. Cells were knitted together and woven over the flesh of the man, patching up the skin he'd lost, mending the bones as best it could. It wasn't perfect but in lieu of a real medical Doctor, it was pretty nice.

After about fifteen minutes, it was done. The Doctor had left him alone for a few minutes, and when he returned, he had a cup of tea, which he offered. "Feeling better then?"

Aya marveled at it. It was amazing. Amazing! His vision was doing a very fun whirly twirly colorful thing when he blinked, too. "S'fixed!" he exclaimed, eyes widening. He flexed his hand and wiggled his fingers... over... and over.. and over...

He swiveled his head and looked at the tea. It took him a while to react - or maybe he was just having fun with the blinking - and then over so slowly reached out for the tea.

"Sssaaahhhhh..."

And then just stared at it. He raised his head to look at the doctor.

"Yes."

And then slowly lowered his head back to the tea, and took a sip. The pain medication was definitely still in his system.

The Doctor grinned quite broadly, seeing his companion's drug induced state. It was humour and funny, and considerably more becoming on the man than the pain-induced scowl had been.

"Excellent, excellent, well, come along then. You'll be fuzzy for a while then. There's a bedroom you can use, not far down the hall." He offered a hand, in case the man needed to stablize himself, and turned to lead him away.

Aya followed obediently, occasionally bumping up against the Doctor. He still had the re-opened wound on his abdomen, but he couldn't feel it anymore. Cool.

"Whazzit place?"

"This is my home, the TARDIS," the Doctor said, opening the door to a room. It looked like it perhaps belonged to a nerdy boy: there were star charts on the walls, mathetical textbooks on the shelves and brickabrack streun about. The walls, floor and ceiling were white, as was all the furniture, but it was clean and cozy looking.

"You can rest here. How is your arm? Can you remove the rest of your coat yet? I'd like to finish examining you."

"TARDIS?" Aya questioned. Somewhere in his head he felt like he'd already heard the answer, but it had a lot of large unfamiliar words that weren't matching up properly at the moment. He plunked down on the small bed, and looked about the room. He took another sip of his tea, and then looked back at the Doctor.

"Ahh. Okay. Yes. Okay." He responded to each question seriously, and set his teacup aside, taking some time to flex his hand some more before tugging off the glove on the hand that hadn't been damaged, and then removing his coat slowly, which revealed a black undershirt. He got that off as well, and looked down at the stab wound on his side. The bandages were smushed and warped, and there was some blood seeping through, but it wasn't nearly as bad as it had been when Omi had first re-bandaged it. Oh that's right, he had friends here, didn't he?

"I need... I should.. tell Omi m'not dead," Aya announced.

"You're welcome to update with my computer when I finished looking you over," he said in a clinical sort of tone, bending his large, lanky frame down to study the bandages along his side. The man really had gotten himself into quite the tussle. At least the side wound didn't look terribly deep. "I'm glad to see you had at least some sense to have this wound cleaned and looked at. The injection I gave you should help. How does the hand feel?"

"It feels GREAT!"

Aya flailed said hand, smiling. His face felt very odd, as if he wasn't used to using these muscles. But he was very happy and very pleased to have his hand back together.

"D'I get blood on your floor?"

He could tell the man was quite drugged up on painkillers, both from the way he was talking, and the way he was flailing about. The hand had been healed, but when the drugs wore off, he'd still feel some phantom pain. "Yes, you did, all over the Console Room. You can clean it up when you're done--and you really should take better care of your sword, and get a sheath for it." He stepped back, studying him. "I should redress tha wound on your side. Are there any other lacerations you're hiding from me, boy?"

"Uhm.." Aya thought about the question for a long moment, and then nodded slowly. He reached around slowly with his index finger extended. "There's something right.. OW!!" he glared viciously at his hip, as if it had intentionally begun to hurt.

He sighed rather exasperatedly, as though he were dealing with a petulant child--which, to him, he rather was--and stared at the hip. "Another cut? Very well, you stay here, I'll fetch my medikit. I can't do much for it, you know. My abilities to stitch up flesh seem to have left me in this regeneration." Without saying anything else, he stalked out of the room, leaving the man alone for several moments.

Aya sat for a moment, swinging his legs like a child, and then went and left Omi a few nonsensical comments to let his young teammate know he was all right, and then flopped back down on the bed, staring up at the various posters. "Aya-chan..." he sighed.

He returned a short while later, carrying fresh gauze and bandages, along with ointments to help keep the wound clean and such. He paused at the door for a bit, looking at him, then stepped inside, shaking his head ruefully. "You ought to be more careful. If this city doesn't have a real physician, you very easily could bleed to death."

"Omi takes good care of us," Aya said, looking up at the Doctor. Omi was no surgeon, true, but the boy had such a mother-complex that he'd soaked up an endlessly wealth of first aid knowledge. "What are you a doctor of?"

"Oh, all sorts of things," he said, bending to begin dressing Aya's wounds. "I did take a medicial degree once, but that was in 1888 on Earth, and as Zoe said, perhaps not entirely practical for today's application." He hummed a bit as he cleaned the wound on Aya's side, then applied the ointment. "It's good you've someone to look after you, Abyssinian. I used to have several traveling companions myself, but I don't know where they've gone off to." He leaned back to address the bandaging. "How does that feel? Not too tight?"

Aya listened carefully... or he tried to. His vision was starting to blur again. "No... s'fine."

He blinked at him owlishly, squirming a bit at the attention... and then fell back again, unconscious.

"Bother," he muttered. He finished dressing the man's hip wound, and once he was certain the man would live and wasn't hiding any additional wounds from him, he took the man's boots off and tucked him into bed, dimming the lights to leave him there to rest. It would do him best.

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Log: Ongoing

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