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| Infirmary — Mount Weather |
| This is a long room, accessible in various points along the level four corridor. It has an arched, buttressed ceiling like much of the compound. Circular white lights are embedded on the wall, following up the arch to create a bright, luminous space. The floors are in the same polished concrete as much of the compound, and these are well-cleaned to keep a sterile environment. Rows of beds line the walls, and there are mazes of flexible tubing running up from each bed, along the wall, and then back toward the secured medical labs. |
| 28 Days After Landing |
If there is something eerie to be found in Mount Weather, it is not here. The infirmary is as clean and pristine as the Quarantine Ward, albeit decked out with more medical equipment and, mercifully, actual people. A tall man with a visible face stands near one of the beds, examining a chart and seeming deep in thought. He wears a white lab-coat with a golden label that reads, 'Dr. S. C. Montgomery', and beneath it is a rather whimsical, pale blue polo shirt tucked into belted trousers. He has multiple patients at the moment, a number of them being the remaining Delinquents from the 100 who were injured in the battle at the Dropship, but one of them is unfamiliar, or perhaps just unrecognisable: a middle-aged, grown man by the looks of things, covered head-toe-toe in red boils and burns.
Cameron doesn't really understand. But he didn't deal with his intake exam very well, being consumed by something he's never quite experienced in his life: a panic attack. A real, full throated panic attack that left him thinking he was dying. And in a very small way, okay with it, because anything ending it would be good. Apparently the last month on the Ground had significantly worsened his claustrophobia. But then he woke up, and before the panic set in again… the door was open? He's not even entirely clear where he is. He's got a healing wound on his upper chest just under his collarbone, and he tugs his shirt back a bit to sort of scratch at it, as he wanders. Into the infirmary he goes, not really recognizing it's an infirmary until… Yep, nope, its an infirmary. "This isn't the Ark?" It's the only modern thing he really understands, even though no, this is clearly not the Ark. But did he dream this last month? "I don't understand." His voice is soft, confused.
The man in the lab-coat looks up with an expression of surprise when his concentration is broken, but when his clear blue eyes alight on the face of one panicked Cameron, he breaks into a smile. "Mr. Scott!" he exclaims, as if greeting an old friend. "Please, sit down. I'm just with a patient. Sit, sit." He steps on forward with swift, wide strides, moving a hand to the Delinquent's shoulder in order to guide him onto an empty bed. Certainly this is not the Ark: these medical facilities are state-of-the-art, the kind of thing Med-techs in space would kill or steal for.
Cameron can be led over to the bed pretty easily, since he's sorta still processing. Once he sits down, he looks around. "Yeah. This isn't the Ark. I don't understand." He frowns. "Those floating savages were attacking us." He lifts a hand and runs it through his hair. "They breached our wall, we set off our engines… killed them all… I don't remember what happened after. I woke up in this white cell, and… I don't do well in cells." But this guy is friendly seeming? So Cameron nods his head slowly. He can totally deal with a friendly seeming person in his current state of mind. "Where's Morgan?" he asks suddenly.
While Cameron sits, Dr. S. C. Montgomery draws a thin, electronic torch from a front pocket, flicking it on to peer closely at the both of the delinquent's pupils, checking for a response. "I'm so sorry," he says, the sympathy in his expression immediate. This guy has excellent bedside manner. "It's my understanding that our response team got to your people as quickly as we could, but not quickly enough. The Outsiders — savages, as you call them — can be harsh, and we've had dealings with them before. Have done on a regular basis. Those of you we managed to rescue are being made familiar with their guest rooms and sitting down to dinner." He's soon stepping away, heading towards a sink to fill up a glass of water.
Cameron's slowly getting his wits about him. He's remembering things. There's only really two groups of people on the ground, at least besides themselves— the grounders, and the people with missiles. Thus, technology. His eyes widen as he looks around. "Is this the Mountain?" It has to be. "This is the Mountain. You… came to help us? But, the Trikru said you…" And he hesitates, shaking his head slowly. "Morgan Blackwood? Did you rescue him too?" He seems very, very worried about this.
The rush of water fills up the glass as the doctor turns on the tap. He turns and offers Cameron a knowing smile at his guess, and soon returns to offer it out. It's free. It's clean. It came out like a miracle within seconds and a single hand motion. This is like nothing the Delinquents have ever experienced before on Earth, outshining even the baths at Coesbur. "Yes, you are in Mount Weather," he confirms. "Our medical facility, specifically. My name is Dr. Montgomery." He taps the label over his chest. "But when I'm not on duty, you're free to call me Sally." The mention of Morgan Blackwood earns a long look, the man furrowing his lined forehead as he struggles to recall. "Give me a few moments to check on your friend."
Cameron stares at the water a moment, just sorta … shocked. Oh, he's seen vids from the old world where water comes from taps, but between the heavy rationing on the Ark and the only slightly less stringent rationing on the Ground — not to mention the two hour hike to get the water — it's just sorta amazing. So he takes the glass, and lifts it to his lips to take a long, slow drink. "I'm Cameron Scott." Though the Doctor obviously knows that already. "I'm a botanist," he adds, as if that matters in the moment. But he nods quickly when the Doctor, encouraging the man to go check up on Morgan, even as he steadily drinks more water. Every so often he just sort of stares at the glass. That was so… easy.
"Marvellous," says Dr. Montgomery, to the revelation that Cameron is a botanist. He has other patients to check on, so he first pauses by the heavily burned man's bed, keeping a close eye on his vitals before jotting something down. Clearly the poor fellow has lost a lot of blood, as he's receiving a transfusion through a thin tube that traces its way up the ceiling and into a backroom. Once that's done, he does duck down to a drawer to look through a heavy file. "Pleasure to meet you, Cameron Scott. Morgan Blackwood, you say?" He searches, flipping past several pages, and glances up only momentarily to inspect the progress the concerned delinquent is making with that glass of water. "You need to drink, Cameron. You're severely dehydrated. Please." He nods his head encouragingly.
Cameron finally really focuses on the burned man, and he blinks, frowning, "Wait, who is — is that a Grounder?" He can't think of anyone else who would have suffered burns that severe after all of this, and the look he gives the man at even the suspicion is one of intense coldness. "Morgan Blackwood. Yeah. He's a medtech." He pauses. "A doctor in training. He'd… love this place. We had no medical supplies when the Ark sent us down here." But it doesn't take much encouragement for him to drink the water, nodding in agreement at him being dehydrated. "We've been on severe rations since the grounders started their blockade and the war. We lost four people in our one expedition to get more. I… don't even know how many we lost… yesterday? Before you saved us?" He still seems to find this amazing.
"Grounder?" The doctor pauses, taking a moment to process the word with a slow blink at Cameron. "You mean Outsider? No, no." He lets out a soft scoff of amusement. "Lieutenant Hughes is one of us. He was injured during the rescue, unfortunately." His heavy black brow furrows at that, the amusement fading, and he fixes Cameron with an intense stare before moving to fill up another glass. He returns, extending the second one and making to retrieve the first. "I'm afraid we have no records of Morgan Blackwood having made it to the Quarantine Ward. I am sure that any member of our scouts team will be able to tell you more about our efforts to help as many of your people as possible, but he is not yet in this facility. If he is not to be found…" He takes a deep breath, motioning for Cameron to drink. "It was a grisly battle, I am told. Many losses were sustained." He indicates a finger pointedly at Hughes.
"We didn't know the world was inhabited," Cameron explains softly, trying not to process that Morgan isn't here. Trying desperately not to. "We thought we were the last survivors of humanity, the Ark, the twelve space stations that came together after the war to preserve not only humanity but all the precious sciences of the old world — we're descended from mostly astronauts, some of the best scientists of the pre-war era. So when we came to the ground and found inhabitants — hostile inhabitants… Grounders." At mention of the man being injured in the rescue, Cameron has to wince. Then it sinks in, and Cam looks deeply shaken, craving hope. "Are we… the only ones who survived? Those you rescued? I mean, surely some others survived." This time he doesn't drink.
To be less vague on his implication, this time Montgomery slowly nods his head. "It's a strong possibility we need to consider," he confirms. When he sees that Cameron isn't drinking the water, he pulls out a small pager from his pocket, pressing a button on the side. A uniformed nurse soon comes in from the backroom, and he waves him over. "Would you like to stay here to take some time to rest, Cameron? Your friends are presently in their dorms, I am told, but we serve food around the clock in the mess hall. It is really very important we get some fluids in you." At this statement, the nurse nods his head, moving to prepare an IV drip of water.
"No." Cameron's voice is on the very edge. "No, Morgan survived. He was right there." But there's water mentioned again, and he blinks, and lifts his glass up to drink again. After so long of not drinking a lot his thirst reflex is just low. "You… serve food? Around the clock?" That's as astonishing as free, unlimited water. His stomach suddenly growls at the very thought of it. He's pretty malnourished, too.
For now, with Cameron drinking, the nurse opts not to hook him up to an IV, but hovers nearby to refill his glass the second it starts to get empty. He seems less interested in getting to know the Delinquent, compared to the doctor, and keeps his words to himself as he too goes to check on the other patients, some of whom were in the Dropship with Cameron. "I am sorry. I wish I could tell you more," says Sally. "Any of our personnel outside should be able to take you to the Mess Hall, if you are hungry. But take it easy. You don't want to overwhelm your digestive system just yet." He grins, flashing pearlescent, perfect teeth. Toothpaste and dental care apparently also exists here in abundance. "If you start to feel uneasy, come back and see me, or Nurse Ratchet. She's been assigned to oversee your progress as well. I expect I will see you in the Mess for dinner later, either way."
Cameron considers, and nods, finishing off the water and setting the glass aside, showing a tentative smile. "I think I'll try this food thing. And drink more water… But… Thank you." He nods his head, looking troubled still, but he's deciding the best way to deal with the Morgan situation is to simply… not deal with it. Not right now. "But.. dinner. Right. Mess hall. Yeah. Okay. I'll… Thanks." He nods his head again.
"Jim, would you help?" Salvador turns and smiles at the nurse, who glances over at Cameron with a blank expression. He doesn't want to help, but he nods his head all the same, moving to assist the hungry teenager to his feet.
"We'll get that cleaned up for you later," says Jim, glancing down pointedly at Cameron's chest wound.
Salvador flashes another one of his bright, genuine smiles, the smile of a man who wants for nothing in life, and has never wanted otherwise. "Do take it easy, Cameron." That is his expert medical advice, which he deems fit to remind Cameron of twice.
"It's fine, it's an old wound, Morgan stitched it up… though he had to use thread. So the thread has to be taken out soon." This last admission is made weakly, as if it were somehow a betrayal, but he nods to Sally, then to Jim, and makes his way to this wonderful place where people have all the food they need.