back on me // beck

[selby roux !]

[align=center][div style="width: 51%; text-align: justify; font-size: 10pt; letter-spacing: -1px; font-family: georgia;"]A deep pit of horror had settled wretchedly in his stomach the moment that Sam and Beck has returned. He’d known that it would be bad, but seeing it brought about a whole other bout of disgust. It baffled his mind how people could stand to do this to each other. How could one hurt another like this? And for what reason? Why? Why? Why? The question bounced around in his head, and distantly Selby was reminded of bouncing DVD logo he’d seen on Beck’s TV once.

Needless to say, the whole ordeal left a nasty taste in his mouth.

He pushed those thoughts and questions away as he came closer to Beck’s houseboat. Selby had a job to do. His job wasn’t to be disgusted, wasn’t to be disturbed, wasn’t to be confused. His job was to take care of Beck, and all the rest could come after. One thing at a time.

The moment that he stepped onto the porch of the boat felt sudden, though it shouldn’t have. Selby gave two quick, firm knocks to announce his presence before letting himself in. "Beck?" he called, spying the injured ghost and approaching him slowly. He had very little idea what had gone on at the Pitt, and the last thing the medic wanted to do was set him off.

"It’s Selby, but you probably knew that. I’m going to try and fix you up, alright?" he said gently, setting his bag down as quietly as he could. He gave Beck a quick once over from where he stood, fighting off another wave of disgust. Be professional, dammit. You can get upset later. Selby looked at the bite on his neck, craning slightly to examine it without getting too close. "It doesn’t look like you’re going to be able to talk... Thump your back leg once if you understand me and then again if you’re okay with me touching you," he said quietly, hoping he came across as empathetic but not overly emotional.

[beck.]

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    As soon as the little poltergeist slipped into a motionless stupor, tangled in blankets swiftly drenched in oily blood, his faithful flytrap dragged itself to his gory side. The mutated plant hesitantly, gingerly coiled a vine around Beck's amputated wrist, seeking for the familiar comfort that the missing appendage brought when it pet the unorthodox friend. Without a reaction, Audrey III recoiled, drool dripping past its tooth-lined trap and down its lower jaw. A frown tugged at its rubbery lips before the alluring scent of spilled blood captured its focus. Any concern decipherable beforehand vanished into thin air, almost as quickly as Audrey lunged at the slick wooden floor, pressing a serrated tongue into the blackened puddle like a parched beast at a shallow watering hole.

    Audrey only slowed their lapping when the door creaked open and a rush of fresh air tickled its fuzzy senses. Rows of teeth flashed at the intruder, the flytrap no longer hovering by the unresponsive ghost and now rearing to its full height. The vibrating shape of Selby's movements brought forth the association with two blows -- both delivered by the medic's father. Failing to distinguish the two big-eared felines apart, the mutant lowered its head to send a bitter hiss in Selby's direction and slunk back towards Beck, its makeshift pot scraping against the floorboards as it settled in the blankets.

    Two honey-brown eyes opened into watery slits as Audrey III protectively draped its heavy head across his ribs, reawoken pain shooting throughout his apparition. But the reassuring voice returned as well, prompting Beck to raise his head from wadded inky sheets. He desperately wanted to croak out to the sawbone, to insist that he would be okay, but all he could manage sounded like the agonized squeal of a drowning piglet. Dropping his head back with a useless splutter, the boy forced himself to roll onto his back, blankly gazing at the broken light fixture embedded in his houseboat's ceiling. A cleanly notched ear twitched at the tabby's instructions. Was that why he couldn't force out noise much more than a pinched wheeze? Seeking to sink claws into the stained blankets beneath him when there were no paws to even clutch at the fabric, Beck scrunched his eyes shut and with a screwed-up face, blindly kicked a hindleg out twice, the action spasmodic and quickly dying off once more into stillness. The thought of any examination would have twisted his guts in fear and uncertainty on any normal day, but seeing as his entrails remained sprawled outside of his belly and dismantled like a scrapped kitchen appliance with its wires exposed, Beck supposed he could suck it up and tolerate Selby's touch just this once.

[selby roux !]

[align=center][div style="width: 51%; text-align: justify; font-size: 10pt; letter-spacing: -1px; font-family: georgia;"]Selby shied away from Audrey III as it hissed at him, unfamiliar with the mutant’s mannerisms. He knew that Beck enjoyed its company, and while the medic could understand finding that company in a plant, he just wished that it was a less hostile one. He was unaware of his father’s encounter with this creature, but if he had known, he would have been a tad more understanding.

He studied the poltergeist more carefully, quietly making a to-do list in his head. I really have my work cut out for me this time, huh? Deep scratches on his side that reeked of infection, right eye gone, bite on his throat (windpipe probably severely damaged), front paws gone, organs hanging out of his fragile body. Where does one even start? Selby thought about it carefully, deciding it would be best to get the worst part out of the way.

He rummaged through his bag, pulling out the supplies he knew he’d need: a spray bottle with a little water for cleaning wounds, a suture kit, painkillers, and a fresh roll of bandages. He eyed Audrey III carefully before approaching Beck’s head. "I’m going to start by cleaning up your, um, organs and putting them back inside, alright? Can you take this medicine for me so it won’t hurt as much?" Selby asked, voice nearing a whisper. He offered the small ghost the painkillers by holding the leaves close to his mouth so all Beck had to do was lean forward and take them.

After Beck had accepted them, he would gather up his other supplies and settle himself near Beck’s midsection, pausing for a moment to consider what his plan of attack would be. Selby had always hated doing stitches. He knew they were a necessary part of medicine, but doing knowing this did not stop him from feeling a little squeamish whenever he did them. The thought of inflicting pain—even to stop future pain—was an unfavorable idea. Still, they would be absolutely necessary in this case. There was no way that this wound would heal on its own. If Beck were not already dead, the medic had no doubts that he would be now. He knew he’d have to check for damage along the intestines, clean the dirt off of them, fix any damage, and put them back in. Before he did that though, he ought to check the body cavity for anything amiss.

"Sorry," he said and without further preamble, Selby picked up Beck’s blue entrails (only a little alarmed at the strange color) and moved them to the side with a deep shudder, examining the inside of Beck carefully. Nothing seemed amiss until he got up to Beck’s chest, which seemed to be missing a vital organ. Crow never told me what to do if someone is missing a heart! he thought with dismay, trying hard not to let his panic show. It’d be best to just... leave it, right? Though every instinct inside him screamed the opposite, there were things at play here that Selby knew could not be helped by science, only with Beck’s healing. With a silent sigh, he moved on.

Starting at one end, Selby examined Beck’s entrails, spraying it with water to clean it and stitching up any holes he found as he went, and then putting the line back inside the poltergeist. The work was slow and very slightly nauseating, but he kept a steady face and did not let his expression betray anything except focus. Eventually, he came to the end of that particular task, but he was far from finished. Selby stitched up Beck’s underbelly, taking his time to make his work neat and tidy. He covered the wound with a bandage, its white stark and blaring

He sat back, wondering where to go next. His gaze settle on the infected wound on Beck’s side. Selby reached for his bag, pulling out a small jar of poultice he had made beforehand. He wet a small amount of gauze, and with a steady hand, he firmly cleaned all of the pus and dirt from the cut. He knew not to stitch it, better to let it drain out, but he knew he would have to once the infection cleared. The medic put the dressing on a bandage and secured it to Beck, moving onto his throat.

He already knew that this was going to be difficult. A wound like this was fatal, there was no precedent on how to treat it. Selby tried his best to clean it up without allowing anymore water to drip down Beck’s throat. He attempted to stitch up the windpipe, cursing the rough nature of the wound. Bites were always harder to treat. He then closed up his throat, avoiding looking at Beck’s face as he did so.

Next, Selby examined the crude amputations that Leroy had performed. These would likely heal well enough on their own, so the sawbone merely cleaned up the stumps and covered them neatly with bandages. He completed a similar process with Beck’s eye. He studied Beck’s chest, firmly pressing on it and discovering the broken sternum. There wasn’t much he could do for that beside just telling Beck to stay in bed.

"Thank you for staying so still," he told Beck quietly. "You were a good patient." With nothing medical left for him to do, Selby began to pack up. He tucked medical waste into a separate compartment in his bag, not wanting to clog up his friend’s wastebasket. He rolled up unused bandages. He screwed the lid back on his jar of poultice. He put all these items back in the bag, and he studied Beck’s face once more. "You’re on bed rest. I’ll be in and out of here pretty often to check on you. Thank you for letting me do this, by the way, I know that stuff like this is hard for you," he said. "Do you need anything else before I go?" He paused for a moment, letting the question sink into his own mind. He can’t talk, stupid. "Um, kick your leg again for me if you need more medicine. Kick the other one if you need something else and I’ll try and see if I can guess what it is. Blink if you don’t need anything."