#nasogastric lines

[catboymoments]

Hey so do you ever think about the Kamukura project a bit too hard and then get really sad about Hajime Hinata and his loss of identity or is that just me

[doctorsawyer]

okay but what if you strapped me to an operating table and did whatever you want to me, what then?

(an anonymous mutual of yours)

I love my mutuals so much ♥��

First, I would take you out for coffee, and I'd pay and make sure that your sedative dose was correct before bringing you your drink.

Once you've started slurring, I'd carry you back to my car where you'd be safely buckled in the back seat.

After a long nap, you'd wake up at my clinic, restrained on my operating table, burning lights on your naked body.

Because we're mutuals, I'd brush the hair off of your sweating face, out of your eyes; I wouldn't want you to miss a thing.

Maybe you'd recognize my icy blue eyes, but you wouldn't see the smirk behind my black mask. I know you'd wonder how I finally convinced you to be my next experiment, a plaything to satisfy my sadistic idiosyncrasies. You thought you said no to my generous offer.

Nevertheless, I wanted access to YOU. Every part of you.

You wouldn't flinch as I insert an IV cannula into your inner elbow, into your antecubital vein. You've done this before, had blood-work done, had saline flow through your body...

And I would need an access site on the other side... and both hands, of course.

You'd cry out after I inserted a thicker tube into the vein running down your neck, your eyes would water and my smile would grow tenfold.

And how you'd thrash helplessly as I held your forehead down and inserted a nasogastric tube through your nostril, down your esophagus, and into your stomach... How you'd cough and writhe as you felt it running down the back of your throat.

I would listen to you try to plead, hang onto every word, as I saturate your neck and chest with iodine. The fear in your words would assure me that I'm doing the right thing... We both need this.

The intraosseous drill would be lined up at the top of your ribcage, a gentle hum coming from my special tool.

"Shhh, hold still, dear mutual. This one goes through the bone and into the marrow. Calm down, now. We both know I need this. You know this is important to me."

I would never ruin this for us; the drill would break through and the cannula would stay inside of your chest, the bone marrow giving in to the intrusion. Everything would be perfect... beautiful.

And I would be able to feed you, and give you fluids and medications, poking your skin and playing with my new favorite mutual for as long as I please.

You would need to void, eventually. A urethral catheter would be placed, the tube weaving its way into your bladder.

"How long!?", you would ask me, beg me, breathlessly, desperate to be away from the pain, the torture...

I'd pull a small rod off of the burner, holding you down as I brand my initials into your ribcage.

"Forever and ever, anonymous mutual"

[plasticlung]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ͜　ㅤㅤㅤㅤ/five years in the pastㅤ 𓌔ㅤㅤ♰ ㅤdescriptionㅤㅤ˚̣̣̣ㅤ"memories warm you up from the inside. but they also tear you apart" ㅤㅤㅤㅤwhere evan buckley forgets the last five years of his life, and he can't help but feel like everyone is hiding one major detail from him

ㅤmain museㅤㅤ˚̣̣̣ㅤevan buckley & eddie diaz . ㅤmain shipㅤㅤ˚̣̣̣ㅤbuddie .

ㅤtagsㅤㅤ˚̣̣̣ㅤangst , hurt/comfort , happy ending , amnesia . ㅤwarningsㅤㅤ˚̣̣̣ㅤmedical stuff , canon-typical violence .

ㅤmaeve's notesㅤㅤ˚̣̣̣ㅤnot actually posted yet , just can't get it out of my head .

Over the years, Evan Buckley has gained a friendship with death. First it was a scare, then it was a comfort. Buck knew he wasn’t immortal, he wasn’t impenetrable, but there was a thrill to knocking on death’s door, only to ditch it at the last moment. Eddie Diaz has seen his boyfriend on a hospital bed more times than he should, but he always woke up, he always left those hospital doors. Even when he died for three whole minutes, he came home after a week. 

And yet, despite the rise and the fall of his chest, Eddie doesn’t think he has ever seen Buck look so lifeless. He was more machine than man with all the wires and tubes attached to him. Maybe it was a good thing Buck wasn’t conscious because he definitely would’ve tripped over himself by now. Instead he was lying there silent, walking the fine line between life and whatever laid beyond that.

The rhythmic hissing of the ventilator was the only thing keeping Buck’s lungs moving, IV lines trailed from both arms, their clear fluids snaking up to the bags hanging on metal stands, one delivering saline while the other delivered medications. A thin tube peeked from the bandages wrapped around Buckley’s chest. But what Eddie hated the most out of it all was the nasogastric tube that snaked down one nostril so it could feed Evan the nutrients needed directly to his stomach. It was a sight Eddie has seen many, many times in his line of work, but this time he just couldn’t stomach it. 

How his usually bouncy and energetic partner who could do practically anything he set his mind to is reduced to someone who can’t even breath or eat by himself. It was wrong. Eddie’s back was aching from his poor posture with how long he spent holding Buck’s hand, ever since he got the go ahead to be beside his boyfriend, he hasn’t left. No matter how much his team tried to have him leave. The next time he is going out of those hospital doors it will be with Evan by his side.

729,132 seconds (729,133) since Eddie has last seen Evan standing live and well. Eight days, ten hours, thirty two minutes that he has been in a state of purgatory. He has left the room only to shower twice and to pee, even when there are other team members there to watch over Buck, he can’t bring himself to leave. 

[bigmouthlass]

Title:  Of Constant Sorrow

Author:  BJ

Fandom:  The Boys

Warning: Graphic Depictions Of Violence

Rating:  Mature

Synopsis: The after-the-fact deposition of the nurse brought in to care for a certain explosively hot patient.

Tags:  Solider Boy, Ben O'Connell, Original Female Character, Billy Butcher, Grace Mallory, Starlight, Annie January, Hughie Campbell, MM, Marvin Milk, Frenchie, Serge Cassell, Kimiko Miyashiro, Original Male Character, Unethical Experimentation, Unethical Medicine, Canon Divergence, AU, No Good Answers

AN:  Content warning -- unironic use of racial slurs.

This was actually my mother's idea-- my mom spent twenty years as a home health aide who specialized in elder care. She and I got to speculating on how someone might connect with Soldier Boy even in his vulnerable state at the end of S3, and this is how I ran with her idea. Factual errors are mine; I'm not a medial professional. Songs are, "Ship of Fools," by Bob Seger, "Man/Maid of Constant Sorrow," by Dick Burnett, "My Favorite Dream," by Bill Walsh and Ray Noble (the magic harp's lullaby from 'Mickey and the Beanstalk'), and "Too-Ra-Loo-Ra-Loo-Ral (An Irish Lullaby)," by James Royce Shannon. All recognizable intellectual properties are owned by their respective creators and holders of any trademarks or copyrights. This is a not-for-profit work of fan art and is protected by Fair Use.

---

Data classified Top Secret/eyes only under authority of case officer Mallory

Interrogation session 8 re case Solider Boy. Subject: DePoister, Charlotte, captain, USA.

WB: We recording? Right, this can go all sorts of ways, love-- CD: You can knock off the intimidation schtick. I can see how sick you are. You should be in a hospital.

HC: He's been doing a lot better lately-- how can you tell? CD: Because it's my damn job, jackass.

WB: Don't you worry 'bout me. I'm sound as a pound. MM: Okay, let's not get sidetracked. Tell us about how you got hired to be Solider Boy's nurse. CD: I'm a Supe-- super-ability immunity to poisons and radiation. However, I’m not indestructible. I didn't even get super healing. I cut, I bruise, I bleed, I break. I age. At least my sister went gray first. Take that, ya brat. I turned down Vought and enlisted, got trained as a combat medic and went to college for my nursing degree after I was wounded in the line of duty. Immunity to poisons is a great thing to have for a first responder.

HC: Wait-- I thought the Army banned Supes. AJ: Supes that are the property of Vought are barred from serving. People with super-abilities aren’t. CD: Right. Given a choice, most Supes pick Vought because the money is a lot better. My dad never did forgive me for turning them down. I could be rich'n'famous right now. Decontamination Charlotte, complete with sequined “HazMat” suit with florescent Fuck Me boots. Instead I picked Uncle Sam, like an idiot. I came out of the Army with a captain’s commission, an RN license, and an average of about four nightmares a month. Anyway. Colonel Mallory came to me herself after the incident at Vought Tower. She explained the situation and pointed out my sister's six-figure tax debt thanks to her idiot husband's house-flipping business and how she could make it go away. That’s pretty much how I ended up taking what was basically an orderly’s job in that spick-and-span underground Purgatory. Nasogastric feeding tube in one end, Foley catheter in the other, and between the two a living body that still needed things like bathing and haircuts and whatnot. The Russians were clever to keep him in an upright position. No pressure sores. Not that he’d be prone to them. --- You think you’re gonna get used to it, but you never really do, Charlotte remembered her practical instructor saying as she completed her unit in the chronic care building at Walter Reed. Ward 4, where long-term coma patients and people in persistent vegetative states lived out their lives until a merciful God called them home. Especially when the patients were healthy otherwise-- young, strong, people who should’ve been out in the sunlight.

With that Me Doctor You Nurse sneer some of them just seemed to have, Dr. Sanjeer briefed her on the acceptable baselines for the patient’s vital signs. “Any independent motion, no matter how minor, must be reported at once. When he was originally roused from captivity in Russia, he blasted through a reinforced concrete wall before he was fully conscious and oriented to time and place.”

“So we’re worried he might haul off and punch a hole in the world.”

“In brief, yes.”

“Great.” Not that the good doctor was worried, from the other side of a camera feed in a laboratory in a completely different part of the facility. Leave the cleanup to Charlotte. Decontamination Charlotte, the filth doesn’t touch her in a bad place.

The containment capsule opened with a sigh of equalizing air pressure. Up close the wrong feeling was worse. White adult male, bearded, mass 85 kilos, height 185 centimeters, beautifully cut muscles, broad shoulders, and long legs. Electrodes stuck to his temples and on his chest fed data to the containment capsule's monitors, with telemetry readings well within Dr. Sanjeer's provided baselines. The only concession to modesty was a drape over his groin, the line of a catheter running to a onboard reservoir. Urinalysis made for a crude substitute for a proper blood test but the needle hadn’t been invented yet that could pierce his skin. A breathing mask clamped over his face fed him air laced with the nerve agent keeping him . . . keeping him in some Supe-enabled state that wasn't quite comatose and wasn't quite dead.

"Hi. Ben, right?” she said.

Over the monitor Dr. Sanjeer's condescending frown deepened.

Charlotte wasn't fazed. Dr. Sanjeer's specialties were in genetics and biochemistry, not direct care. She'd lay money he'd never gone near a patient in his life-- not a human one anyway, he had the look of a monkey man. “His brain still works, right? He’s not an inanimate object. I refuse to treat him like one.

“Ben, my name is Charlotte DePoister. I’ll be your primary care nurse. You have a tube in your nose feeding you fluids and a catheter’s been inserted into your penis. I apologize if either feel uncomfortable. I’ll be in for four hour shifts every day at 0600 and 1800 to see to your physical needs, which will include moving your limbs to keep your muscles from atrophy, keeping you clean, reflex checks, and tactile stimulation tests. I’m going to put something in your hand to demonstrate." From her scrub top pocket, Charlotte pulled out a tennis ball. She took the unconscious Supe’s hand and shaped it into a cup, fitting the tennis ball down into it.

No response. His fingers were warm and totally lax.

“All right. I’m going to give you a quick bath with some dry shower cloths. Clever things, keep you almost as clean as a full sponge bath and a lot less labor intensive. Full baths are still on the agenda, every fifth day. I’ll wash your hair then too. Beard trims as needed, haircuts once a month, but I don’t manscape.”

Charlotte hummed as she worked on the heavy pile of inert tissue that might've had a man inside somewhere. Dr. Sanjeer watched with a look of greed on his face that made her uncomfortable. Reminding her that he saw her patient as a specimen.

At the end of her shift, she covered Ben with a light blanket and sealed the containment capsule. The air inside went misty as it pressurized and filled with the Novachik nerve agent. Carefully, with the thick plastic gloves built into the capsule, she removed the breathing mask. The pad beneath him activated to hold him in place and the capsule went into lateral rotation mode, rocking him side-to-side. A child in a cradle made of lead and poison. "See you this evening, Ben." --- MM: What were you told about the actual research going on? CD: Just broad strokes. The laboratories were all dedicated to studying him, trying to figure out how that radiation of his neutralizes super-abilities. I sat through a lot of meetings with lab coats pissing and moaning about not being able to access their specimen directly.

WB: And you never thought to ask where you fit into the master plan? Spending all day wiping Soldier Boy's arse you'd think you'd be a bit more inquisitive. CD: What do you want from me, you prick? I'm a soldier. My job's to execute orders and hope like hell the officers over me know what the fuck they're doing. You're military too, you should know that. In the day-to-day it was pure routine, like caring for any long-term coma patient. I’d clean him up at the start of my shift, do basic physiotherapy, provide sensory and tactile stimulation with things like soft toys. I read somewhere that he's a baseball fan, so I started playing the radio play-by-plays over the speaker in the containment capsule.

SC: Why even bother? What care does a monster like that warrant in light of the crimes he's committed? CD: Because he’s a person, no matter how horrible a person he is. Nobody deserves to be tortured with the effects of long-term immobility. “We must be what we are, else we become our enemies.” Historical fantasy. A Song For Arbonne. --- "I saw that one on the TV," Charlotte said as she scrubbed her patient’s hair. Soft and fine like her own and sweet with the mild smell of Johnson and Johnson No-Tears. "The home plate ump totally blew that call. Even I could see that wasn’t in the strike zone." Over the capsule’s speaker Dickerson called it-- White Sox over Tigers, 13-6. "Buncha dipshits this year. The Tigers haven’t been able to get shit done with Cabrerra out. I hope we haven’t lost him for the season."

No response from her patient.

Charlotte turned the game off and rinsed out the shampoo. Careful of the clamps holding the breathing mask, she used a little travel dryer on her patient’s hair, lifting the strands to get the cool air at the roots. She sang as she worked. "'Tell me quick,' said Old MacPhee, 'what's this all got to do with me? I spent all my time at sea, alone' . . ." --- MM: Let's get back on track. So you were taking care of Soldier Boy while he was . . . out. The nerve agent should've had him totally insensate. What happened to change that? CD: Either his body started adapting to the Novachik or someone was deliberately dialing back the concentration. Possibly both. --- "This is a ball of hemp cord, it should feel rough and abrasive against your skin." Charlotte lightly ran the stim object down his forearm and checked No Response. "What's on the agenda for today . . . oh it's everybody's favorite, Leg Day."

Talking through each flexation and extension, Charlotte moved each of her patient's legs through their full range of motion. "Everything's still moving the way it should be, big guy. You're not even losing muscle tone. Reflex test-- I'm going to run the tip of an ink pen along the sole of your foot."

Accustomed to days and days of the same thing, Charlotte didn't register at first what she was seeing. His foot flexed, curling into the touch of the ballpoint pen as she ran it up the arch. "Woah." She did it again. Another flex. This time, the muscle groups in his calf twitched, like he was trying to point his toes. Charlotte finally registered what it was that had put her on edge-- his pulse and breathing had sped up, just enough to be noticeable.

Dr. Sanjeer had been very clear on this point. Any indication that he might be coming out of his next-door-to-dead state rated a five-alarm panic. Instead, Charlotte squeezed his ankle. "It's okay. You're safe. It's just Charlotte, Ben. Flex your toes again if you can hear me."

Nothing. Involuntary reaction, nothing more. Just a sign that physiotherapy was in fact indicated. --- MM: The doctor told you to sound the alarm if he showed any signs of coming out of it. How come you didn't? CD: I didn't think it'd be in anybody's best interest to punch the panic button, least of all my patient's. I know you don't take the idea seriously, but part of my duty as his nurse is to be an advocate for his well-being.

AJ: He roasted Crimson Countess alive, he bashed Mindstorm's face in-- CD: Have you read his quote-unquote "service record"? His brilliant solution to the Korean conflict damn near started World War III. Under international law he's an unindicted war criminal. And I'm sure all of you have been hurt by him. Directly. At his hands. Making him suffer when he's helpless doesn't do a damn thing to balance those scales or prevent anyone else from getting hurt. Justice is a higher duty than our fucking feelings.

MM: Look, I used to be a corpman. Okay? I agree with you. Just tell us what happened next. CD: According to the EEG, he started cycling between normal periods of dreaming and non-dreaming sleep. They weren’t happy dreams either. His vital signs would start spiking right the fuck off the scale and the Geiger counter would start sounding like a electric woodpecker. Scared the shit out of me the first time it happened. I’m immune to the neurotoxin and the radiation, not to getting vaped or having a mountain dropped on me. --- Charlotte had gotten into the habit of keeping the containment capsule open while she was in the room with her patient. With the room itself isolated and her the only person allowed direct access, it just made her job easier not having to constantly pressurize and depressurize the damned thing. She'd also gotten into the habit of holding his hand for part of her shift. Sometimes there'd be a faint twitch. Nothing that could be misconstrued as deliberate, purposeful action. Once his hand had full-on clamped, just shy of enough force to crush the bones. Hurt like hell. Charlotte blessed the foresight that had made her use her left hand.

The day everything changed was another day exactly the same as all the rest. Charlotte had been catching up on the charting when an alarm on the telemetry monitor went off. The Geiger counter started ticketing away, as the needle rocked right into the red zone. The pump on the gas canisters under the containment capsule kicked on, upping the concentration of the nerve agent in his breathing mix. It wasn't working fast enough, Charlotte could see. His pulse had risen to 50 and the EEG showed highly active REM sleep. Dreaming sleep.

"Holy Mary mother of God you're having a nightmare," Charlotte said. She grabbed Ben's hand and put it over her heart. "Ben. Ben, it's okay! Whatever you're seeing's not real! It'll pass in a second! Calm down! It's not real!" Nothing. His eyes rolled under his closed eyelids and his heart rate continued to climb like the price on a gas pump-- 70, 80, 90 . . .

Charlotte put her lips next to Ben's ear and sang. "I . . . am a maid . . . of constant sorrow . . . I've seen trials for all my days. I'll say goodbye to California . . . the land where I was partly raised."

The motion behind his eyelids paused. Charlotte took a breath and went on, softer and tuneful. "Your friends may say that I’m a stranger, my face they'll never see no more. There is but one promise given, that I'll sail on God's golden shore." As she watched, Ben's vital signs held their plateau . . . and started to sink.

"Oh thank God," Charlotte sighed. "All through this world, I'm bound to ramble," she brushed a lock of Ben's hair back from his forehead. Odd that his ageless face should look careworn, that the eternally sleeping should look so damned exhausted. "Through sun and wind and driving rain. I'm bound to ride the western railway . . . perhaps I'll take the very next train." The image struck her then, Ben out in the world, dressed in clothes for the outdoors, sitting in the open door of a boxcar as it rolled from somewhere to somewhere. God, even jail would be better than this . . . living death.

"I am a maid of constant sorrow, I've seen trials all of my days," she reprised. There. His heart rate had reached it's normal resting pace, as the nerve agent did its work and put him more thoroughly under. "I'm going back to California," on impulse she kissed the back of his hand, "the land where I was partly raised." She laid Ben's arm back by his side.

"Sweet Jesus you scared me," she said into the silence. --- WB: So you just sung the cunt a lullaby, gave him a kiss like he was fucking Sleeping Beauty, and what, defused him? CD: It worked didn't it? The next time it happened, I took his hand and did the whole lullaby thing and he settled. Sanjeer speculated he was having flashback-powered nightmares, but he had already associated my voice with harmlessness so he was able to reality-check his way out of it without waking up. He said to continue as before. I was just glad to end each shift in one piece to be honest. What I didn't know was-- well you guys probably know more about that than I do. There were parties very interested in obtaining my patient who'd finally succeeded in fixing his location. They were trying to access him directly and remove him intact, without waking him up.

K, via interpreter: . . . she's asking why they didn't just come to you. CD: Lack of opportunity, probably. Like everybody else who knew about our payload, I lived onsite, my movements were restricted, and my activities were monitored. That I’m talking to you guys and not to yet another interrogation specialist says Colonel Mallory's already cleared me of any conspiracy. I’m gonna spend the rest of my life in 'protective custody' anyway, so pardon me if I forget my fucking manners.

AJ: Well maybe we can do something about that. CD: Hah. Don't write checks you can't cash. The thanks of a grateful nation amount to not putting me on trial for treason or espionage because that would involve admitting Soldier Boy's alive in an open courtroom, and who knows what Vought or God save us Homelander might do with that information.

MM: We can talk to the Colonel. Move you someplace a little lower security, someplace that allows visitors. I mean, your family's gotta be missing you. CD: That carrot's already been dangled. My sister's been made aware of my status, and has chosen not to communicate. Christ alone knows where my ex is-- probably shacked up with one of his undergrads and a case of Jack Daniels. --- "It's raining outside." Charlotte said as she fiddled with the nail file. She couldn't clip her patient’s nails, exactly, none of the clippers she'd tried had even scratched the nail surface. But they'd file if she ground at them enough. "You know something? There are times I think I'd sell my soul just to take a fucking walk by myself. This place is so double-top-secret they interrogate fresh air before they let it in."

She laughed to herself. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't be whining to somebody who can't tell me to shut up. I just realized this morning it's my nephew’s birthday but because I'm incommunicado I can't call him and say Happy Birthday. My sister's a brat and her boys are bratlings, but they're my brats.

"They're probably going to the beach, since it's the weekend. Grand Haven State Park-- these long fine sand beaches and nothing in the water that might eat you. We went there two-three times a summer when we were kids. The wind blows right off Lake Michigan hard enough to make the air feel nice, even when it's like a million degrees outside. Lucky me I got the suntan gene but my sister'd burn'n'peel every damn year. That fair Irish skin-- you could probably relate. My ex-husband was like that too. Our honeymoon, we spent three days in the Keys. Chris got sunburned so bad we had to spend most of it inside. Kind of a bad omen in retrospect.”

Realizing she was rambling, Charlotte stopped. She glanced at the telemetry monitor; he was in REM sleep but his vitals were still well under the panic threshold. She hoped it was a nice dream. She cleared her throat and sang, "In my favorite dream, everyone is so delightful, no one's mean or spiteful . . ."

She put Ben's hand down. "Good night. See you in the morning," she said, and sealed the capsule. As she took off the mask, she swallowed when she saw a tiny trail of moisture running from the corner of one eye. Charlotte hoped with all her heart it was just a bit of extra water and, careful to keep the touch light, she used her gloved thumb to wipe it away. --- MM: Take us through what happened. Did you notice anything out of routine when your morning shift started? CD: No. The pump that fed the breathing mask was still going so as far as I knew everything was normal. I filled the canister with the Novachik in the lab and changed it out like usual. My guess is the nerve agent was a dud.

SC: That would not be difficult. Novachik is not so easy to synthesize. If the pH is even a little out of balance-- seawater. CD: Right. I was going through his stimulation drills and I noticed his brain activity acting up, so I took his hand and started singing and it seemed like he’d calmed down. So I turned away to get the things for his bath when an alarm started going off on the capsule telemetry display. I looked at his face, and his eyes were open. --- "You've been doing this more lately," Charlotte said as she flexed his hand around the rubber handball. "It can't be because the Phillies are doing more than taking up space in the cellar this year. I didn't mean to get your hopes up there. I gotta suffer through Tigers mediocrity, you get to suffer with me. So there-- oh shit." Ben's heartrate was climbing again, though thank God not as fast as that first time. Charlotte pressed his hand over her heart again. "Okay. Orient on my heartbeat. A-one-and-a-two-and-a-here-we-go-- Too-rah-loo-rah-loo-ral, too-rah-loo-rah-lee . . ."

By the time she finished the Irish lullaby, Ben's vitals were dropping. "There. And according to my handy-dandy calendar, it's bath day. Let me take a look at that manly mane of yours. Might be time for a trim." As she turned to her cart, an alert on the containment capsule started going off. "Wait, what the fuck?"

A look at the EEG waves and her heart turned to ice. Nice and spiky and active and awake. Charlotte barely had time to complete that thought when a hand snapped around her neck. A tiny trickle of urine ran into her underwear as her patient-- as Ben-- as Solider Boy slowly sat up, eyes open and full of enough rage to start a war. Black fog washed over her vision and she went ragdoll. In an almost abstract sort of way she said goodbye to her sister and nephews, remembered the last time she'd watched a really pretty sunrise, regretted running out of her room without making her bed this morning.

"Where. Am. I?" he growled, muffled by the mask. The grip on her neck loosened just enough for Charlotte to breathe.

"West Virginia. Hazardous Waste Containment Facility," Charlotte croaked. --- MM: What happened next? CD: You saw the video. He grabbed me by the neck, demanded to know where he was, told me to take out the tubes, then he told me to show him the way out or he’d rip my fucking head off. Direct quote. --- “I’m sorry, this is probably going to hurt.”

“Just get it out of me motherFUCKER!!!” Soldier Boy screamed as Charlotte pulled the Foley. He cupped his hands over his genitals, curling over them protectively. “Oh that hurt like shit!”

Thankful that her hands weren’t shaking, Charlotte tossed the catheter tube. Picking up a towel she said, “Feeding tube next. Take a few deep breaths, suck in, and hold it,” carefully, she tugged the thin plastic tube out of his nose.

“Jesus Christ snorting fiberglass didn’t hurt this much,” he groaned, taking the towel from Charlotte and using it to apply pressure to his nose. “My God, am I hungry. Tell me you’ve got some food stuffed down your bra."

Deep in that clinical space she’d paid the iron price to learn, Charlotte said, “This is a hot zone. No food or drink.”

“No clothes either, I suppose. Figures.”

“You were comatose and incontinent. Clothes would have been impractical.”

Soldier Boy did a double-take. Was he blushing? Hard to tell with the beard. "Incontinent? You've been wiping my ass the whole time I've been here?!?"

"Calm down. I'm a nurse."

Soldier Boy made another one of those scoffing noises. Charlotte had heard him called an analog Homelander. Nobody who'd seen either up close would make that mistake. Around Homelander there was . . . like hearing a song playing on an out-of-tune piano. There was a feral edge to his mannerisms that led one to question whether or not a whole human being looked through those lake-blue eyes. Soldier Boy, whatever else he might be, was human. Mesmerizingly so. Charlotte could see how he could command men’s souls with a snap of his fingers. Worth wondering if his intense personal charisma was part of his super-ability package or something uniquely his own. Either way, it was overwhelming.

Soldier Boy rolled to get to his feet. On reflex Charlotte grabbed his arm to help him balance. He jerked away. “Get your damn hands offa me!”

“Sorry! Sorry,” Charlotte backed away, hands held up and empty.

Say this much, he was good at assessing situations quickly. He looked around, noting the cameras, the smallness of the room, the cool stillness of the air, the particular quality of the silence. “How far underground are we?”

“I don’t exactly know,” Charlotte admitted as Soldier Boy snatched a blanket off the storage cabinet and wrapped himself up. “Construction on the main facility was abandoned twenty-thirty years ago when nuclear power development started to slow down. The main spaces were retrofitted into laboratories, a tunnel was punched down, and this,” Charlotte circled a finger, “was hollowed out. There’s this room, the observation bay, a decontamination chamber, a locker room, and an elevator.”

Soldier Boy’s twitchy eyes fixed on Charlotte. “That shit they use to knock me out-- why aren’t you dead?”

“Supe,” Charlotte said shortly. “Immune to poisons, including radiation. Also drugs don’t work on me. Made getting shot a bucket of fun.”

Soldier Boy looked her up and down. "I take it instant healing isn’t part of the package? Good. Get me out of here, or I’ll rip your fucking head off. Clear?"

Charlotte commended her soul to God. “Crystal.” --- AJ: It's okay. You don't have to be scared of him. CD: Of course I need to be scared of him, kiddo. You think something as trivial as a detention center crawling with Special Forces trained guards in the middle of a CIA black hole is gonna stop him from getting to me if he really sets his mind to it? So far the only person that’s put a dent in his paint job was Queen Maeve, and she had the help of a sixty-odd story drop. --- “Is there an evacuation plan around here somewhere?”

“What for?” Charlotte asked, pitching her voice to carry over the hiss of the shower in the decon chamber. “The only people down here are the indestructible and the expendable.” Using a pair of scissors she slit the hems and opened a few inches of leg seam on a set of scrub pants. No hope on the tops fitting over his shoulders but one of the cotton T-shirts should stretch enough.

The water shut off. “Fuck that shit is cold,” Soldier Boy grouched. “You have to do this, what, twice a day?”

“You get used to it.” Or learned to accept that God just liked a laugh sometimes. Charlotte remembered praying for cold the long months in the Iraqi and Afghani desert. Underground was nothing but cold. She opened her locker. Her accessories didn't amount to much-- just her watch, her ID badge on a lanyard, and her dog tags with her dad's crucifix on the same chain.

“Towel.” Charlotte tossed him one and turned her back as he emerged from the decon chamber. What was acceptable when he was comatose was an invasion when awake. “Okay. Now, if I had me in a secret underground cell, I’d have the rooms all rigged with that goddamned gas. I’d also have the elevator shaft rigged with explosives. So why am I still awake and we’re not buried under half a damn mountain?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know how you’re awake now. There should’ve been enough Novachik in those canisters to keep you under until Jesus gets back.”

“Yeah about that,” Soldier Boy said. “What date is this?” Charlotte told him. “Clothes.”

“On the bench.”

Fabric rustled. “No drawers?”

“I don’t think mine would fit you,” Charlotte said dryly.

Soldier Boy dragged on the T-shirt and toweled his hair. Moving normally, Charlotte noted. Better than normally. He might’ve just woken up from a quick nap. Catching her stare, Solider Boy's lip quirked in a leer. He stretched to his toes, preening like a peacock. "Quit eyeballing the goodies, babydoll. Let's get out of here."

The next indication the situation was FUBAR came when the elevator doors opened. Charlotte put her back to the elevator's side wall. "I don't recognize the guy at the guard station."

Solider Boy nodded and stepped out of the elevator. Charlotte heard a gunshot, glass shattering, and a choking gasp. "You can come out. I got him. Now," Charlotte came out of the elevator and saw the 'guard' on his knees, neck in Soldier Boy's grip, "who the hell are you, and who do you work for? Talk fast or--" the strange man gurgled.

Charlotte saw he was wearing Carmichael’s name badge and rushed past. Her suspicions were confirmed when she saw the big guard shoved in the corner, shot through the back. She checked for a pulse, nodded, and noted the time on her watch. Her mouth tightened when she looked at the Rogue's Gallery on the filing cabinet and saw the picture of Carmichael's three daughters gathered around the family mutt, all four grinning big and bright.

The mook who'd taken Carmichael's spot grunted as Soldier Boy broke his neck. Soldier Boy took Carmichael's sidearm from the mook's holster and let the body flop to the floor. "Come on doll, you can have the vapors later--"

"Fuck you," Charlotte said on reflex, taking the dead man's wrist. The dead man's pants darkened as he spasmed and voided. Under Charlotte's fingers his pulse gave a last feeble twitch and stopped. "I might be your hostage but I've also why you haven't spent the last several months floating in your own shit."

“Am I supposed to be grateful for that?” Soldier Boy examined Carmichael’s weapon, nodding when he found it loaded. “You bastards buried me alive and expect me to kiss your ass for it?”

“Never mind,” Charlotte shoved the reflex to put him in his place aside. Mom had always told her that her pride would get her killed one day.

“I wasn’t out the whole time, you know,” he went on, pushing past Charlotte and opening the filing cabinet with a screech of breaking locks. File folders and papers started fluttering to the floor. “Did you know that?”

“Dr. Sanjeer said it was theoretically possible,” Charlotte said.

“Theoretically,” he mocked, “I kept feeling what you were doing to me.”

“I’m sorry if I hurt you,” Charlotte said and Soldier Boy paused in his rooting. “I promise, I wasn’t trying to.”

For just a second, Charlotte saw someone else standing up in the old Supe’s skin, a man trying hard to hang on to himself through terrible stress. The blink of vulnerability vanished as soon as it happened. “Maybe just having things done to you is bad enough.”

Charlotte remembered his state of utter helplessness, and it took a moment to step down on a feeling of terrible pity. She looked over at the red switch on the wall, the one next to the fire alarm. The one that would switch the fire suppression system from halon gas to water vapor laced with--

A hard hand landed on her shoulder. Soldier Boy squatted to her level and leaned in close, so close Charlotte could smell the fresh soap in his hair. “Get it straight angel. I will hurt you if I have to, to keep from going back in the box. Do you understand?”

“Yes. Yes I understand,” Charlotte said. A tide of hysteria rose within her; she fought it back. Falling apart could come later.

“Good girl.” With a gentle shake, Soldier Boy let Charlotte go. --- MM: So you got him out of the containment area. And then? CD: The main facility was full of bodies. According to Colonel Mallory--

WB: Everyone in the underground levels was already dead. CD: Right, the Novachik traps in Sublevels 1 and 2 had all been popped off and killed the laboratory personnel and most of the guards. The ones not caught by the nerve agent were just straight up shot. We were not exactly dealing with subtle people. --- The long hallway between the access point to the containment area and the rest of the facility was empty. The next body lay just outside the security checkpoint at the other end, shot through the head. In the sublevel's main area, more people lay slumped in the corridors. From the condition of the bodies it was obvious what had happened. “Somebody deployed the nerve agent,” Charlotte said.

“Obviously,” Soldier Boy said, taking a sniff. “You never forget that smell.”

Charlotte looked up in surprise. “You’ve got a sharp nose. Novachik’s odorless.”

"Super senses were part of the package," Solider Boy said. He cocked his head, like he was listening for something. "Hmm. You wanna move it along already? These men are dead."

"Yeah." Charlotte laid the man's hand down on his chest. She knew him-- Dr. Lamar Reginald from Spring Valley, Pennsylvania. Would talk by the hour about fishing, even if fishing wasn't what he was really doing.

"Oh for God's sake--" Soldier Boy grabbed Charlotte by the bicep.

She squeaked as he pulled her to her feet and down the corridor. "Ow-- let go! You're hurting me!"

"Tough titty kitty, I don't have time to baby you through this. Hustle!" At least he let go. Charlotte rubbed her arm as she quick-stepped in his wake. "How many floors between us and the way out?"

"Depends on which way you want to go," Charlotte replied. "We're on Sublevel 2. The main entrance is on Level 1 and the helipad is on Level 2--"

"Nertz on the helipad," Soldier Boy said. "Anything airborne has a transponder. They'd shoot me down before I get ten yards. Tell me about the main entrance."

"The gates are programmed to maglock if someone pulls the alarms. Steel doors about four inches thick." Soldier Boy ignored the elevators and continued past the laboratories. Charlotte glanced through the wired observation windows and her jaw clenched when she saw more bodies. “There’ll be a trap there, most likely."

"I'm not an idiot sugarbritches. They'll knock me out and take me, and either shoot you dead on the spot or disable you and drag you along thinking it'll make me behave." Solider Boy paused, looking down his nose at Charlotte. "It won't. I don’t make deals for hostages.”

"A No Hostage clause was part of my deal with Colonel Mallory. I know--"

"Mallory?" Solider Boy cut her off. "Grace Mallory? CIA?" He laughed. "Well I'll be damned. She must be a million years old by now."

"Such a gentleman," Charlotte muttered.

"Now now," Soldier Boy said, and Charlotte cussed to herself-- right, sensitive ears. "I know how to treat a lady. Only it seems to be an endangered species these days. Even in the seventies, seemed every time I turned around I had a set of tits in my face. In my day, a girl went around dressed like that," he rounded the corner, "it's because she wanted a log for the beaver if you know what I mean."

"Vividly,” Charlotte said in her driest of dry voices.

"These days? Jesus Mary and Joseph, you got grown men acting like they want to be pregnant, women with pants so damn tight you can read their razorburn-- what is it with that anyway? What do men even want these days? Little girls who act like sluts?"

Twenty years in the service had pretty well inoculated Charlotte against offense when it came to male nasty talk. "Couldn't tell ya."

"And the niggers? They're fucking everywhere. God save us,” he crossed himself, “we even elected one President! The President of the United God damned States!" Yet another bigoted idiot who assumed anyone white secretly sympathized with their crap. "I'm not a racist," he went on when Charlotte didn't say anything, "I just don’t think it’s good when people try and do things their temperaments aren’t suited for. Niggers don’t belong in leadership positions, as anybody with any sense knows. Am I right?”

"Explaining why not would take more energy than I got," Charlotte said.

Soldier Boy scowled but let it drop.

Charlotte cussed when Soldier Boy opened the door. There was another body slumped at the bottom of the stairwell, a body with a big splotch of birthmark mostly obliterated by an exit wound.

"Knock it off," Solider Boy snapped as Charlotte bent. Jerry Rivers. Dedicated Slipknot fan, amateur guitar player. "This is-- what are you doing?" Charlotte took the pistol out of Rivers's hand. She looked up and saw the enemy’s body, blood puddled on the stairs where he’d fallen. "Look honey, why don't you stand back and let me handle the men with the guns, okay? I stormed Normandy, I survived Inchon, I think I can handle a bunch of--"

The snap! of Charlotte's patience failing was so distinct it made her teeth rattle. "If you think I'm relying on you to get me out of this alive, you are fucking deluded. I don't feel like being a sidebar in the New York Times piece describing the collateral damage you inflicted during your big escape."

Looking legitimately taken aback, Soldier Boy asked, "Do you even know how to use the damn thing? In an actual firefight? Where men are shooting back at you?"

"Three years in country as a combat medic in Iraq, another six as an RN in Afghanistan," Charlotte told him. "Besides, why the hell do you care if I'm armed? It's not like I can kill you with friendly fire."

"All right," Soldier Boy said. "Keep it if it makes you feel better."

A hissing gas grenade clunked to the bottom of the stairwell. In seconds the place filled with stinking clouds. Soldier Boy sniffed, and scoffed. "Tear gas. Good God." He raised his pistol and shot twice. A body clumped down a flight of stairs and came to rest next to their fallen mate.

Charlotte fanned the air in front of her face, coughing.

"I thought you were immune to poisons," Soldier Boy noted. His eyes were turning red and his nose had started running. Somebody standing downwind of a trash fire, not in a chimney full of toxic smoke.

"I am," Charlotte choked. "Doesn't mean this crap don’t smell bad."

Chuckling, Solider Boy cocked his head. "Shall we?"

"Captain DePoister!" a voice bellowed over the base PA. Solider Boy flinched; Charlotte frowned. It was a woman’s voice, heavily accented. "We do not wish to harm you! Lay down on the ground with your hands on your head!" Music stated to play, something synth-heavy with lyrics in a different language.

Soldier Boy froze. Threat response froze.

"OhmyGod." Charlotte grabbed his hand as he doubled over and fell to his knees. She pressed his palm over her heart. "Benjamin Arthur Michael O'Connell look at me. Look at me!" His eyes snapped to hers, wide and blank of sense. "Focus on my eyes and on my voice, okay? The sound of my voice--" she pulled from the belly and let it rip, carrying right over the pop crap, "I . . . am a maid . . . of constant sorrow . . ." he blinked the emptiness out of his runny eyes. Charlotte felt his hand move between her breasts. She didn’t pull back. If copping a feel helped ground him, let him feel.

To Charlotte's shock he joined her on the last chorus, singing in a sure and resonant voice that blended well with Charlotte’s soprano. They ran through the whole thing together, holding hands and shouting for Jesus, their mingled voices drowning out the other noise. By the time they were done with their second run-through, it had stopped. Silence.

Solider Boy took his hand back and stood, visibly shaking off the willies and shoving the whole episode into the memory hole. Charlotte squashed the urge to get some talk going; this wasn't the time or the place. Or the man. --- WB: So your magic lullaby kept him from popping one off on the way out the door-- right? CD: I did something right. He didn't blow a crater in the side of West Virginia. I know the results weren't optimum but gimme a break. The friendly casualties were not inflicted by Solider Boy. To his dubious credit the murders he committed since you geniuses broke him out of containment in Russia were of people who'd condemned him to forty years of physical and psychological torture-- --- Pale as cheese but composed, Soldier Boy hung back as Charlotte waved her ID at the door sensor. Nothing. "Shit. They must've reset the locks."

"Not to me they didn't," he said, taking two steps forward and using his bare foot to kick the door clean out of the frame. Hard enough to crash it into the opposite corridor wall.

Charlotte directed him to the right and followed him down the hall. She was watching the rear when she bumped into him, hard. Grumbling a curse, she looked past Soldier Boy and saw the long windows looking out over the Allegheny Plateau. The sun was hitting the maple leaves just right, turning the forest an intense, almost firey green. She kept quiet as Soldier Boy approached the window. She could see his reflection, a faint ghost in the wired glass. The sunlight turned his eyes jade green and touched off the red in his hair. It brought him to life.

Hesitatingly, he raised his hand and laid it on the window. He leaned forward to rest his forehead on the glass, closing his eyes against the sunlight and breathing hard like he was trying to reach the fresh air beyond. Like a prisoner just getting out after a long stretch in the stockade, or a patient allowed to go outside for the first time after a while bedbound. Both at once, come to think of it.

Charlotte kept her mouth shut, let her patient have his moment. It didn’t take long, and Soldier Boy straightened up. “What else is on this level?”

"Storage, armory, infirmary, receiving. Residential on Level 2.”

"Does this place have a kitchen?" At Charlotte's incredulous look, Soldier Boy shrugged. "I wasn't joking about being hungry. Give me a good red and a side salad I think I might eat you."

"'No! Don't eat me! I'm too chewy!'" Charlotte mock-screamed, and he laughed. "There’s a locker room for offsite personnel on this floor. You could probably scrounge a lunch."

"And different clothes," he said sourly, picking at the scrub slacks. "Don't suppose my uniform's around here someplace."

"I'm pretty sure they gave it to Homelander so he could burn it," Charlotte said.

"He can't do that!" The humor had flown right out of him. He seemed . . . offended. "I'm still a goddamned hero and all!"

"Oh boy." Charlotte did some mental backdating and-- "Fuck."

"Oh," Solider Boy said. "The smear campaign's started hasn't it?"

Fully aware these might be her last words, Charlotte said, "The Deep. He's one of the Seven--"

"I know who he is."

"He leaked your Vought file. The unadulterated file.” Soldier Boy's eyes widened and his already pasty complexion paled further. "The one that they buried after you," Charlotte finger-quoted, "'died' in '84. Made a bigger sensation than the fucking Watergate tapes. The official story is that you were kidnapped and brainwashed by former KGB black ops." Might as well pull the splinter now. "The Russians kept records. Of what they did to you. I've seen them." Charlotte didn't elaborate. The grainy video footage held special guest star status in her nightmares.

That flash of vulnerability was back, and deeper. For a second Charlotte saw the soul, trapped in a loveless, featureless, white-cold hell of pain. She didn't move. She tried her best to not even breathe. Through the stretched fabric of the heather gray T-shirt, she could see a sullen glow starting in the center of his chest. The end of her life written in a blast of poisoned fire.

Soldier Boy punched the wall and it caved in almost a foot. The whole hallway shook, cracks spidering everywhere. "Come on. Which way to the locker room?" --- AJ: You're defending him?!? If Vought Tower had gone down-- CD: Have you been listening? That doesn't make the collateral damage he's caused okay, and since you geniuses aided and abetted him while he was a fugitive I'm guessing you have a fair amount of moral flexibility on the subject.

HC: Soldier Boy sneezed on a busy street and killed almost 30 people. He's a weapon of mass destruction with PTSD and a two-second fuse. MM: And a racist motherfucker. HC: That too. CD: What's your point? The best idea anyone’s proposed for confining him’s failed. Twice. Look, it's true-- no one person should have that kind of power. It's why you need a roomful of people to agree when you start talking about nukes. You guys just don’t see an issue with using people who do. How is that anything but a lateral move in this idiotic arms race? Your solutions amount to continual escalation and/or fucking ethnic cleansing. Excuse me all to hell if that confuses my priorities somewhat. --- In the locker room Soldier Boy snapped the locks off each locker and rifled through the contents. Clothes and wallets piled up on the changing bench. "No," he said, as he held the bottom of each shoe to the sole of his bare foot, "no . . . no . . . oh for Christ's sake, quit it. You look like a frightened chipmunk, Captain."

Charlotte’s spine went straight and she snapped, "Don't you fucking dare. I earned that commission, you fucking pogue.”

“Right. You’re the real hero,” Soldier Boy drawled.

"I've seen your actual service record,” Charlotte retorted. “The only action you've seen in a combat zone was hanging out in Pusan long enough to call Truman a, quote, ‘spineless faggot sucking on Stalin’s balls,’ unquote. Soldier Boy. What a fucking joke. You are the fucking opposite of a soldier. You are a thug and a coward.”

The smile went out of Soldier Boy’s eyes, though it stayed on his face. It made him look insane. It made him look like Homelander. “May I ask how you arrived at that conclusion, Captain Butch?”

“Not gay. Brave men don’t corner teenagers in the shower for mutual masturbation sessions. Brave men don’t call their girlfriends dumb cunts . . . period.” Charlotte paused. “Brave men don’t take aim at kindergarteners.”

“It’s called acceptable losses, woman--"

"I don't see an insignia. What's your rank, mister?" Charlotte demanded. “Where are you in the line of command? What is your authority?!?"

"My authority,” he snarled, “is that I am motherfucking Solider Boy, and if I have to hear another word out of you--"

Today is a good day to die. "Oh for Christ's sake just fucking kill me if all you got's threats," Charlotte cut him off.

"Maybe I don't want to do that." Soldier Boy stalked close, his body language changing from athletic grace to something animal. He crowded up to her, towered over her. Charlotte clenched her fists to stop her hands from shaking. "Hmm? Maybe, it's been a while." He traced his fingertips down her neck, a featherlight caress that made Charlotte prickle. He put his hand at the juncture of her neck and shoulder, her clavicle under his palm and his thumb a spot of pressure against her throat. All he had to do was shake, and bones would snap like little branches. Charlotte shuddered; she couldn’t stop herself. "Maybe, I could feel you touching me the whole time I was under," his free hand pressed to her back and yanked her close, his body big and hot against hers, "and now, I want to touch you back."

“Look,” Charlotte said as she sucked air to catch her breath, slow her pounding heart, “in the last ninety minutes, you have threatened to rip my head off, promised to hurt me -- underlined -- if I didn’t assist your escape, and told me you’d write me off if I was taken hostage. You are also my patient and I don't fuck patients. These things make you someone I do not want touching me and my libido doesn’t get a vote. Now back off.”

"Is that what you really want, Captain?” Solider Boy purred. His body, his smile, all of him was pure seduction. Except his eyes. His eyes were empty as a skull's. "I can feel your heartbeat. Your mouth's saying no but your--"

"Sometimes you’d get an erection when I was disimpacting your bowels. You're the expert-- should I have fucked you right then?" Charlotte went up on tiptoe to speak in his ear. "Is that why you think you might like dick?"

The hands on her body turned to iron, hard and hurtful. "You watch your filthy mouth."

"Or what? You'll kill me? Assuming I live though this, I'm either getting shot for treason or put in jail for the rest of my life. I'm aiding and abetting an enemy agent. The UCMJ's pretty clear on what happens to traitors. The only reason you're still sucking air is putting you in front of a firing squad'd be a little pointless."

"Then why bother taking care of me? Hmm? You could’ve left me in the box to rot and just sat there picking your nose or playing with yourself or whatever people do to goldbrick these days. Why didn’t you?”

“Yes,” Soldier Boy shoved Charlotte behind him as two people walked into the room, “do tell why you did not simply leave this poor boy all alone in the dark.” Charlotte swore in Arabic; one of the newcomers was Dr. Sanjeer. The other was a lanky young man wearing a dirty baseball cap and orange All-Stars. In one hand he carried a large tablet displaying a woman’s face. Both men wore oxygen tanks on their backs, masks hooked to the shoulder straps. “My sources tell me you are not soft-hearted Captain. Despite the clichés, good nurses rarely are."

"Who are you?" Solider Boy asked.

"You may call me Nina, my Soldier Boy."

"I'm not your anything. Tell me why I'm not stomping your messenger boys' guts out."

"Because you haven't. You are not mindless, and you are not crazy." The woman on the tablet took a huff off a cigarette. "I would have preferred to discuss this in person. Unfortunately, my inside man could not access your cell directly.”

Inside man. "You bastard,” Charlotte spat at Sanjeer. “What’s she giving you? Money?”

“Quite a lot of it,” at the same moment Sanjeer said, “It isn’t about--"

Solider Boy pointed at Sanjeer. "You. Shut up." His finger jerked to point at the woman. "You. Talk."

"I have a proposition. It must be very clear to you by now you exist in a world that neither needs nor wants you. Vought has their poster boy, more popular than ever thanks to his reinvention as family man." Solider Boy snorted. "Grace Mallory has recently been diagnosed with heart failure and has been given a prognosis in months, William Butcher is dying by inches of brain lesions, and your former comrades are all dead."

"There's still Homelander, and Vought," Solider Boy said. "Those cocksuckers need to go down. Hard."

"A feat you cannot accomplish on your own and is even less likely now that he has taken your measure. What does it profit you, to kill him?"

"I have a commie lecturing me about profit."

"Your outdated thinking is showing, my Soldier Boy. If there is a lesson of our times it is this-- ideals are perishable. Like eggs, no? The only truths are the things that can be held in the hand," she cupped her palm like she was holding a pile of coins. "Like gold. A child's hand. A lover's cock. Your enemy's heart."

Soldier Boy's glower deepened. "There's a ribeye steak and a bottle of MacAllen 18 somewhere with my name on it. Get to the point."

"Directness, I like it. I've made a niche for myself as a facilitator for many things around the world--"

"You want me to do hits for you," Soldier Boy cut her off.

"In a word. You are both uniquely talented and very skilled, and despite recent evidence to the contrary I know for a fact you can be discreet. Vought left you to the enemy and replaced you with a very pretty maniac. You owe them nothing. Your country's best use for you was to shove you into a coffin and bury you alive. You owe them even less. You have no friends, no real kin. You have no one, except possibly Captain DePoister, who cares for you at all, and some time in your waking company has probably cured her of that."

All through this the lanky man stood still. Charlotte saw his eyes flick over to one side. A tic worked under one eyelid. Sanjeer's eyes kept moving in the same direction. His hands kept pinching and worrying the side seems of his trousers-- a nervous stim she'd noticed in him before when he was under stress.

Soldier Boy glanced back over his shoulder. "Well doll? You sick of my company yet?"

Charlotte squared her shoulders. She looked Soldier Boy in the eye, and deliberately cut her eyes to the right. "I know for a fact you were raised properly. You will address me as Captain.”

Soldier Boy did that scoffing thing. "You never answered my question. Why did you bother taking care of me, if I'm so fucking terrible a person?"

In her peripheral vision, she saw the lanky man's sleeve twitch. "HOLD YOUR BREATH!" she screamed and fired from the hip. The lanky young man flinched as the shot nipped a piece of fabric from his coat. The red switch next to the fire alarm exploded into pieces.

Sanjeer screamed and tripped running for the door, belly-crawling into a corner. Still holding the tablet displaying the Russian woman's smoke-haloed face, the lanky young man made a flicking motion with his free hand as Charlotte fired again. Agony burst up her arm as the whatever-it-was the lanky man could throw hit it. Charlotte fell to her knees; the kid fell on his back with a hole in his throat.

Charlotte curled over her wounded arm, panting out screams. Gritting her teeth against the pain, she peeled the pistol out of her right hand. She was an okay shot left-handed, not great, but--

A commotion broke out. Three more men had burst into the room wearing oxygen masks and shooting MAC-10s. As she watched, Soldier Boy turned them into piles of broken meat. The last man, he twisted the head off. Like opening a jelly jar. Blood sprayed everywhere. The head rolled on the floor like a soccer ball.

Charlotte grayed out for a moment. When the world came back online, Soldier Boy was talking into the tablet. The conversation must not have gone well-- he hurled the tablet into the bank of lockers so hard it punched through, leaving a dash in the metal shaped like a giant cockeyed coin slot.

Cowering in a corner, oxygen mask clutched in his shaking hands, Sanjeer moaned. Soldier Boy, covered in blood and looking like some sort of Celtic war god, paused in gathering up cash and clothes long enough to lift Charlotte to her feet. He picked Sanjeer up and twisted the portly doctor’s arm up behind his back. "Talk."

“Charlotte please,” Sanjeer said. “We need more. We need data. We need . . . we can end it, all of it!" He started to snivel. “He's the key to everything. Just . . . let us figure out how he can do it. Once we have that we have the upper hand over-- over--” he stuttered to a stop.

Over you, Charlotte heard the part he didn’t say. Spangled costume or GI issue, Vought or USA, Decontamination Charlotte or Captain DePoister. All the same. An error in the system. Even begging for his life, she could see the sneer he always had when he spoke to her.

“Please, please-- I,” Charlotte raised Rivers’s pistol, “I have a family--”

“And I don’t?” Charlotte asked. “Rivers? Carmichael? Dr. Reginald? Your lab techs? We were all here to help you.”

“Not fast enough. We need that weapon in our hands now but to do that we need examples of compound-neutralization effect in action. The subjects from the Vermont incident aren't enough. Too many variables. Analysis of data could take decades and we need answers now."

“Experimental data,” Charlotte said. “Test subject-- me. That’s why she tried to trigger him but she told me to get out of the way first. You need a specimen." Her guts turned cold as she ran down the chain of logic. "God have mercy-- I was never here to work was I? This whole time! You've been trying to get him to pop off while you had us both under observation. Did Mallory know about this? What am I talking about?-- of course she fucking did, that woman never misses a trick. God damn you!"

Solider Boy shoved Sanjeer to his knees. “He’s all yours,” he said to Charlotte as he went back to scrounging.

Sanjeer wrung his hands and begged, “Charlotte please, we’re close, I swear we’re close, just let me do my work. You owe it--”

Charlotte shot. One in the head, the rest of the magazine in the back.

“Good girl,” Soldier Boy praised.

"Piss off," Charlotte retorted. She tried to move her bad arm and the pain took the feet out from under her. Soldier Boy caught her as her legs gave out. “You can find the way out from here,” Charlotte told him. “Just follow the Exit signs.”

Instead, Soldier Boy bent and swept an arm behind her knees, lifting her into his arms. He picked up a duffel bag and a pair of hiking boots. "Where's the infirmary?" --- CD: Sanjeer was the inside man. The woman -- Nina she said her name was -- waved seven figures and a chance at a Nobel under his nose. I don't know if she was working with or for anybody; that'd all be guesswork on my part. The last of her strike team was waiting in the locker room on the main floor. The Novachik trap inside was still intact. While Nina had Solider Boy distracted, she had a Supe try and spring it. I shot him, and he broke my arm. Soldier Boy saved my life when the shithead's backup came in shooting. He could’ve left me there. He had a clear line to the door. Instead he took me to the infirmary and helped me administer first aid.

HC: Why would he do that? CD: Probably because he didn't want to walk out of there thinking he owed me one. Why he'd care about that, I don’t know. Solider Boy's not really capable of respect. You have to understand people have a value beyond what they can gain you to do that. He and Colonel Mallory are birds of a feather in that regard. --- Gently, Solider Boy set Charlotte down on the infirmary's exam table. Charlotte cussed in pain as she examined the injury.

"How bad is it?"

"Both the bones're fractured," Charlotte reported. "Swell."

Moving quick and efficient, Solider Boy ransacked the room. Looked like her Dad trying to figure out the kitchen, opening every cupboard trying to find the paper plates. A brace and some rolls of compression bandage piled on the table at Charlotte's hip. "Shit. Morphine, morphine, wherefore art thou morphine--"

"Bad time to get fucked up," Charlotte said.

"Not for me."

"Don't bother. Drugs don't work on me, remember?"

Soldier Boy paused. "Oh. Right. Sorry." He watched Charlotte hiss and whimper as she tried to reduce the fractures. "That must hurt like a sonofabitch. Here." Charlotte jerked away as Soldier Boy reached for her arm. "Stop that. Let me see."

"Why do you even care?" Charlotte snapped.

"What are you talking about? Of course I care. You probably just saved my life." A bitter smirk twisted his lips. "Such as it is."

"Knock it off. Self-pity's unattractive."

Giving her another one of those unreadable looks, Soldier Boy repeated, "Let me see-- this needs to be set."

“I can do this--”

“So can I. Learned how when I was a kid out camping with my cousins. Mother insisted I learn first aid.” Scoffing to himself, he added, “One of the few things she and my father agreed on.”

Taking deep breaths, Charlotte said, “Can you, just really carefully, pull between my elbow and my wrist?”

Soldier Boy grabbed some gauze and wound a roll over his first two fingers. “Bite down on this.”

Wrapping one hand around her elbow and the other around her wrist, Soldier Boy pulled. Like a thick piece of rubber tubing, the muscles stretched. The pain was amazing. Panting hard into the gauze between her teeth, Charlotte manipulated the bones with her left hand. Simple fracture of the ulna, incomplete simple fracture of the radius-- painful but not serious.

The broken ulna moved into position. Charlotte managed to get the brace on her arm and strap it into place. She spat the gauze out and said, “Slowly. Release.”

Soldier Boy slowly eased the pull and let go. He found a sling and helped her settle her arm into it. “How’s that feel?”

“It’ll hold until I can get somewhere with an MRI machine.” At his blank look, Charlotte explained, “Magnetic Resonance Imaging. Like X-rays but better.”

Chuckling a little, Soldier Boy patted her shoulder. His brow furrowed a little. Charlotte held still as he ran a finger under her neck chain and pulled her dog tags out from under her scrub top.

DEPOISTER CHARLOTTE O.E. ######### B NEG NO PREFERENCE

“What’s the O-E stand for?”

“Octavia Elizabeth. My mom’s favorite book as a kid was Charlotte’s Web. Octavia is the nurse who delivered me and my sister-- we're twins and we were high-risk. Elizabeth’s my Confirmation name.”

“That why you became a nurse?”

“That’s complicated.”

Soldier Boy frowned thoughtfully at the metal on his fingers. “If you’re an atheist how come you wear a cross?”

“I’m not an atheist.” Charlotte took the tags back and put them back under her scrub top. “Recovering Catholic isn’t available as an option.”

Soldier Boy took her left hand, thumbing at her watch. “You’re right-handed? That stinks.”

Charlotte’s eyes flicked up and there he was. Head bent close like a friend sharing secrets. He stank like blood and hot skin, and despite knowing better she felt herself melting at the quick. Vivid full Technicolor fantasies she hadn’t allowed herself in all the time she’d been his caretaker filled her imagination--

Son of a bitch. Charlotte snatched her hand back. “Stop that.”

“Stop what?” he asked, all low and sensuous.

“I mean it. Stop it.”

One of his blood-gritty hands cupped her face. His nose touched hers. “You're blushing for me, angel,” he said.

“Of course I'm blushing. I’m a heterosexual female with eyesight that works. Now, take your hands off of me and take one step back, now."

Instead, he kissed her. Gentle, insistent, and reminding her in painful detail exactly how long it had been since her last kiss. Soldier Boy smiled against Charlotte’s mouth as she put her hand on his chest. The look of total confusion when she shoved him back as hard as she could was almost funny.

"Read my lips," Charlotte said, pointing to her mouth. "Back. Off.”

Finally, finally, that seemed to get through. Soldier Boy stood there like an unplugged toy as Charlotte got down off the exam table, awkward with her slung arm. She gave him the room and pulled the privacy curtain as she passed, veiling his face. Blank, bloody, lost. “Get cleaned up and get changed."

No answer from the other side of the curtain, though Charlotte supposed the squeak of a faucet handle could be taken as one. She listened as he slurped a drink. Mild splashing as he washed his face. The soft sound of fabric shuffling as he changed his clothes.

Soldier Boy whisked the privacy curtain aside and found Charlotte gathering bottled water and boxes of meal bars. “Hey woah doll,” he said, "you don’t--"

“Captain. For the last fucking time,” Charlotte said. “My name’s not doll, or angel, or any of the other little pet names you use in lieu of a woman’s actual name.”

“Okay, Captain. I’m sorry.” Soldier Boy laid his duffel bag on the counter and packed it full, quick and efficient. In regular clothes and shoes, he was . . . he wasn't her patient any more. But he wasn't Solider Boy either, all dash and attitude and winking at the camera as he fondled the leading ladies. He was just a guy with a solid build and restless eyes. "Captain? Charlotte?"

Charlotte blinked, realized she was staring. "Sorry. Zoned out a moment." She took a deliberate step back. "Come on, the main entrance is--"

“I’m not a bad guy,” Soldier Boy blurted.

“I never said that you were,” Charlotte blurted back, surprised into bluntness. "Look, net effect of today’s adventures on my end is a broken arm and the rest of my life in jail-- if I’m lucky."

"Come with me." Charlotte's eyebrows shot straight up her forehead. "I'm serious," Solider Boy added.

"Don’t be ridiculous." Charlotte lifted her bound arm, grimacing in pain as she did. "I'm wounded. I'd only slow you down. Besides, not thinking you’re a bad guy’s not the same thing as trusting you."

Solider Boy put his hands on his hips. "So you're too good for me? Is that it?"

"For Christ’s sake--” Charlotte cried, “what do you want from me? Absolution? I'm a nurse, not a priest!” Soldier Boy’s arms went across his chest, like a man bracing for further blows. “You're not bad. You're indifferent. And for someone who can do what you can do, indifference is worse. Come on." She was half out the infirmary door when she realized she was walking alone. Solider Boy just stood there, again with that unplugged look. Like he was -- Charlotte wanted to smack herself when she finally put it together -- dissociating, an overstressed mind and wounded spirit fleeing from the Here and Now. She'd seen in before, in patients coping with post-traumatic stress. "Come on, you're wasting daylight and you're gonna wanna get gone before shift change."

"I didn't mean to kill anyone besides the twins. At that house," Solider Boy said, talking like he hadn't heard her. "And that building. I just," he waved a hand in front of his eyes, "I blacked out, and I guess this," he taps his sternum, "popped off by itself. In that stairway. I think I felt it starting to happen again. My head started hurting and . . ." he trailed off. Charlotte didn't move. This was Ben talking, not Solider Boy, and Ben deserved to be heard. "It almost happened again. But you stopped it." His eyes refocused, saw her. "How did you know singing to me would stop it?"

"I didn't. Not for sure," Charlotte admitted. "I've had patients who have," she picked her words carefully, "attacks like that. The usual protocol is to talk them around until they come back on their own. I had to be a little more direct in your case."

"Hell of a gamble. I could've killed you. I almost did." Charlotte shrugged. "Why risk it? You could've just gotten out of the way."

"And anyone else who might've been in the line of fire? They might've been the enemy. They might've been one of the guards here. Shit, they might be some random jackass hiking the mountains looking for standing stones."

Ben still looked blank, like a kid trying to parse meaning out of an algebra problem. Please Excuse My Dear Aunt Sally who can kill me in her sleep. "You never answered my question. Why bother taking care of me at all?" --- HC: What did you tell him? CD: 'Because it's my job.' We made it to the main security station. I told him where the nearest airport was. The last thing I remember was him apologizing for having to knock me out. --- "Watch your face Captain." Charlotte turned aside as Ben put his fist through the glass of the security station's observation window. He reached through and unlocked the door. A map of the immediate area hung on the wall; Ben examined it thoughtfully, then pulled it down and folded it up. “So what are you going to tell them when they find you?”

“The truth,” Charlotte shrugged. “You forced me to take you out of the complex, stole some clothes, and asked if I knew where the nearest airport is.”

Ben nodded, stuffing the map in his pocket. “That should give me enough of a head start. One of those freight trains should take me halfway to the--"

"Wait!" Charlotte snapped up her hand. "Better I don’t know."

"You're right. I'm sorry. How's the arm?"

"Hurts. Thank you for helping splint it."

Ben nodded. "Guess you know what comes next. You know where your knockout button is?"

"Yeah," Charlotte pointed, "just don't break my teeth. Dental work's a bitch when Novocain doesn't work."

"Affirmative.” He touched her face. “Thank you. For . . . just . . . thank you. I’m sorry to have to do this.” He pulled his hand back and curled his fist. “On three-- one--"

Stars exploded across Charlotte's awareness and the last thing she felt were Ben's arms as he caught her falling body and lowered her carefully to the ground. --- CD: I half-expected him to just kill me. But the next thing I know I’m coming to in legirons with Colonel Mallory explaining that I’m in protective custody, and I’m at least eighty percent sure I’m never leaving.

MM: Do you have any idea where he is now? CD: No. He didn’t share his plans with me. He was able to smuggle himself back to the US all the way from Moscow; I don't think he'd have as much of a problem staying under the radar as you guys seem to think he would.

WB: Oi Florence Nightingale-- if you knew, would you even tell us? CD: Yes I would tell you if I knew. I didn't forget my duties as either an officer or a nurse, and so far my reward is an indefinite term of imprisonment as bait, on the off-chance Soldier Boy grows a sense of duty or obligation and shows up to break me out. Which he won’t. So fuck you very much. Take me back to my cell. --- One early spring evening, Charlotte was in the yard with The Lions Of al-Rassan open in her lap. The alarm klaxon bellowed and she jumped a foot.

“What’s going on?” she asked Private Lett, the MP on duty in the yard. Seemed a bit overkill for one . . . whatever the hell Charlotte was on paper these days.

“Power interruption. Again. I think you’ll be okay back in your suite.”

“Cell,” she corrected. “Let’s call things by their right names, shall we PFC?”

She had the grace to look embarrassed. “Yes ma’am. Return to your cell. We’ll have this figured out in a snake flick.”

Compared to the stockade, Charlotte supposed, her confinement could've been considered comfortable. A little collection of buildings cut out of the nowhere between the UP and the Wisconsin state line, surrounded on all sides by a perimeter wall and a shitload of trees. In the winter, the snow piled up in yardsticks and the silence got so profound it hurt. Now that it was warmer Charlotte spent every moment she could get away with outdoors, soaking up sun like some half-assed weed. Just her, a handful of guards, and nowhere to go. Welcome to life in the discard pile.

Charlotte was halfway up the sidewalk back to Hut 3 when she heard something. A low, tuneful baritone floating from the thick box hedges lining the path, “I . . . am a man . . . of constant sorrow . . .” Charlotte dropped her book and knelt to pick it up. “Meet me by the birdbath," the voice softly instructed.

“No killing anyone,” Charlotte said.

"Haven’t yet. Go."

She'd just finished scribbling on the title page of her book when a dark shape cut itself out of the gathering shadows by Hut 2. "You about done lollygaggin, Captain?"

“Yeah,” she said, putting her book on the side of the birdbath. She took off her dog tags and her cross, kissing the cross as she laid it beside the book. “Let’s make like donkeys and haul ass.”

Ben laughed. “Come here. Faster if I carry you piggyback.”

“This isn’t,” Charlotte grunted as she clambered onto Ben’s broad back, “terribly dignified.”

“Woman, you have had your hands on my dick and your fingers up my ass. Your dignity can take a few jabs.”

“Yeah yeah.” Charlotte wrapped her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist.

Ben stood like Charlotte weighed nothing. “Hang on tight.”

Charlotte hung on tight and Ben took off, running free and easy. Vague memories of riding like this on her mom's back as Dad took Kay made her want to cry. She put her head on Ben’s shoulder and shut her eyes. Weird to feel safe in the company of a borderline lunatic and mass murderer, but she did feel safe with him now. Maybe Nina had a point about ideals. Charlotte’s had certainly died, bleeding out as she lived out her life in captivity and flatlining for good as Colonel Mallory’s Boys grilled her for answers she didn’t have.

“Here,” Ben said some time later, squatting to let Charlotte down. They’d come to a motorcycle loaded with supplies, parked next to a gravel road running roughly east-west. "How's your arm?"

"It's good," Charlotte said. "Aches a little bit when it's cold, which is all the goddamned time." Ben chuckled as stretched to his toes, shook out to limber up. Looked to be in perfect health, she noted, hair and beard neatly trimmed. She couldn’t even begin to imagine what the last months have been for him. "Do you have a knife?"

"Course." Ben opened a pocketknife as Charlotte shrugged out of her coat and pointed out the little scar in the fleshy underside of her arm. Working by moonlight, he slit the skin and pinched out the tiny black cylinder of a tracking device. At Charlotte's nod, he crushed it between his thumb and forefinger and flicked it away like a spent cigarette.

“Do you have--”

“Here, I got it,” Ben said as he bandaged the cut. “Can I ask you something?" he asked as he worked. At Charlotte's grunted yeah, he asked, "What were you writing in that book?"

"A note to my sister. Said I loved her and the boys, and to pray for me the next time she goes to Mass.” Ben nodded as he mounted up. “My turn,” Charlotte said. “Why come break me out?”

“Heard a rumor. Homelander.” Charlotte felt herself go pale. “Nobody deserves what that stupid motherfucker would do to you.” He hesitated. Honest feelings didn't seem to come naturally to him. Like learning to play an instrument-- all that came out was noise at first. "Besides, I owed you one."

"Okay."

Ben paused in getting himself settled, cocking an eyebrow back at Charlotte. "'Okay?' So you trust me now?"

"Let’s just say prison life's not agreeing with me." Ben patted the saddle behind him and Charlotte got on. "So what now?"

“You know something?” Ben said as he heeled up the kickstand. “For the first time in my entire goddamned life . . . I have no idea."

"It’ll wait for morning,” Charlotte said. “Let’s just make some miles. Head west."

"Hang on tight." Ben kick-started, and they sped off into the dark. ---

AN2: UCMJ-- Uniform Code of Military Justice, body of laws applying to United States armed forces personnel.

Crime-a-nilly it's so much easier when it's just porn.

[literaryfandomangel]

Time After Time - Chapter Six

My mother took the initiative to contact the judge in Phoenix, Arizona, to request that I be excused from the custody trial. She provided the necessary paperwork from the hospital in Santa Carla, including all the test results and multiple weigh-ins. This evidence clearly showed that my condition deteriorated while in the custody of my father but improved significantly while I was with my mother in Santa Carla.

The judge approved the request, acknowledging that my health required special attention. It was decided that Sam and Grandpa would take care of me during the day while Max and the others would take over at night. Additionally, my mom hired a nurse to assist during the daytime. Given Sam and Grandpa's limitations, they couldn't help with specific tasks, such as preventing me from falling in the tub and cleaning the nasogastric tubes.

As Mom departed, she took extra care to emphasize the seriousness of my health issues to everyone. Despite our assurances that everything would be alright and there was no cause for concern, she left with a lingering sense of worry evident as she drove away from the driveway.

As the morning sunlight streamed through the windows, casting a warm glow throughout the house, I found myself in the cozy living room. Upstairs, my boyfriend and our dog Max were still fast asleep, while my younger brother Sam was at school. Meanwhile, Grandpa was busy working on his taxidermy animals, a hobby he was deeply passionate about. Despite my mom's efforts to persuade him, Grandpa remained steadfast in his belief that television was detrimental to young minds. As a result, I found myself curled up on the comfortable couch, engrossed in the pages of my well-loved copy of Pride and Prejudice.

As the sun rose higher in the sky, casting golden rays through the window, I was jolted back to reality by the distant rumble of a car's engine and the unmistakable crunch of tires on gravel. I turned my body, lifting a slender, pale hand to part the curtains, and caught sight of a youthful male nurse stepping out of his car. A mischievous giggle escaped me as he uttered a curse upon dropping his car keys to the ground.

As the man approached, I quickly dropped the curtain, pretending to be absorbed in my book. His footsteps drew nearer to the house, and just as he reached the door, he knocked heavily. In the background, a noise echoed from Grandpa's room, followed by muffled swearing.

“Are you alright, sweetheart?” Grandpa asked, shuffling into the room. He quickly closed the doors to his taxidermy room before striding across the floor to open the door. “Hello?”

“I’m Nurse Wyatt Combs?” The striking man remarked. Even though I was enamored with my four incredibly handsome boyfriends, it didn't mean I couldn't admire another attractive man. Wyatt Combs was undeniably good-looking, and the smirk on his sun-kissed face suggested that he was well aware of it.

From what I saw as the nurse strolled across the front yard, his blonde hair styled in a short, flattering cut. It was evident that Wyatt enjoyed soaking up the sun in his spare time, as his skin was adorned with a deep bronzed glow. His smile was reminiscent of a toothpaste ad, with perfectly straight, white teeth. This man had the greenest of eyes, almost too green to be real.

“I don’t think Lucy knew you were a male,” Grandpa's furrowed brow and deepening worry lines were a telltale sign of his concern as he observed the scene. Although Lucy and the others assumed he was oblivious to their true nature, Grandpa was keenly aware. He knew that the enigmatic guests residing in their home were not ordinary, but vampires. Furthermore, he couldn't shake the suspicion that both his daughter and granddaughter were somehow intertwined with these mysterious beings as their mates. In vampire lore, the bond between mates was revered as sacred, and vampires were known for their intense possessiveness over their significant others.

“Probably not,” Wyatt confirmed. “The previous nurse was Sarah, but she’s sick with the flu. Therefore, Aria Emerson is now my patient. If you are alright with that?”

“I don’t think my granddaughter will be too pleased at having a male nurse,” Grandpa frowned, turning to look at me.

“I can let the agency know, but they won’t be able to change the assignment until tomorrow,” Wyatt said, apologetic.

“That’s fine,” I nodded my head. “I can wait until tomorrow to bathe. Can you call the agency now to let them know that I need a female nurse for tomorrow?”

“Sure,” Wyatt nodded in understanding, and after some reluctance, Grandpa finally relented and allowed the nurse to enter the house. As Wyatt retreated into the kitchen, Grandpa shook his head in disapproval.

“I hope you know what you are doing,” Grandpa shook his head disapprovingly and retreated into his taxidermy room, leaving the doors ajar, perhaps as a way to monitor the male nurse closely.

Throughout the day, Wyatt remained by my side, providing valuable assistance as I struggled to eat. Despite his helpfulness, the sensation of his touch on my skin made me feel queasy. Wyatt took the initiative to change the feeding bag not once, but twice, which allowed me to consume more food and reduced the necessity of the nasogastric tube. It won't be long before the entire apparatus is removed altogether.

As evening fell, the four men I was romantically involved with descended the stairs with force. Wyatt, who was seated next to me, had just set up another bag for dinner and was carefully supervising my meal. When they spotted another man in the house, all four of them came to an abrupt halt, frozen in surprise.

“Who’s this?” David's voice held a dark edge as he asked the question, a tone I had never heard directed at me before. Wyatt glanced up, his eyes narrowing as he observed the four men who had just entered.

“This is Wyatt,” I introduced, setting the cup of pureed chicken soup down. “He’s a fill-in for the nurse Mom hired while she’s in Phoenix.”

“Well, it’s night now,” Dwayne nearly hissed the reminder to the male. “We can take over the care.”

“Alright!” Wyatt threw up his hands, gathering his belongings. “You have my number. If you need me, call me.”

“Thanks, Wyatt,” I offered a weary smile, completely unaware of the way Marko, Dwayne, David, and Paul all visibly tensed as I focused my attention on Wyatt. As David escorted him to the door, the other three deliberately diverted my attention, allowing David to slip outside and engage in a private conversation with Wyatt.

“What are you doing here?” David's lips curled back, revealing his sharp fangs as he hissed menacingly.

“I could ask you the same,” Wyatt chuckled. “But it’s apparent. She’s your mate, huh?”

“That’s none of your business, Tom,” David narrowed his eyes, claws growing as he inched forward.

“I think it just might be,” Tom chuckled. “I bet she’d be real sweet - ”

“Get out of here,” David threatened, snapping his teeth at the man in front of him. “If I ever see you near her again. .”

“You’ll what? Spit in my face?” Tom laughed, rolling his eyes. David’s eyes glowed, reaching out and snapping his arm. Tom grit his teeth, backing away from the angry and protective vampire. “Fine. I get it.”

Chapter Seven

[chronicbeans]

Read it and Weep

A "Tales from the Iolite Hospital" Story

TW: Hurt with No Comfort, Shady Contracts, Mentions of Medical Procedures, Medical Diets, Chronic Illness, Hospital Setting/Doctors

I frowned as I entered the room. I already knew what the answer was. The way the gastroenterologist, Dr. Cogsworth, acts doesn't clue me in to anything. He is practically emotionless in the way he acts, which might be due to him being a wind-up man. A large, wind-up key sticks out of his back, gently turning as he admits tiny click, click, clicks each second, as well as gentle music, much like that of an antique music box.

He turns to me, saying "Well, Aluminum... there isn't much I can do besides put you on that diet. Remember, the one where you avoid foods that end up triggering the response?" I groan in frustration "That one? The one where I don't know what even causes it? The one where it is far too late to avoid the response because I need to WAIT for it to know what to avoid? I like to call that the "Minefield Diet", doctor. It is as anxiety and panic inducing as walking through a minefield."

He tilts his head, his face as empty as usual. "It is the best I can do. The 6-food elimination diet is too costly. I want to use the amino acid-based diet as a final resort, due to most patients requiring a nasogastric feeding tube due to the taste. I will be sure to call in a prescription for the dupilumab, though, since it has been proven effective in the treatment of eosinophilic esophagitis, so far."

I shake my head, glaring at him "What about those allergy tests you asked the allergist about? Will I be getting them? They aren't fully effective, but I heard the skin prick tests can be useful sometimes." He shakes his head "I haven't gotten a response. I believe you will not be getting those tests done. They are not too effective, anyways." I point to him, asking "Can't I just change you out and get a new doctor?"

He grows silent, besides the gentle music and the ticking clicks from within him. He then turns back to his desk, stiffly moving as he checks his files. He then pulls out a contract, the one my father made me sign when I first entered the Iolite Hospital at age 16. That was around... 11 years ago.

He hands it to me, saying in his robotic tone "Read it and weep. He made the decision for you." I read the contract, my various eyes widening.

"The patient hereby consents to stay with both the Iolite Hospital and the doctor provided below the signature line until either the patient or doctor dies. This is to ensure the healthcare provider knows everything about the patient here, in the Iolite Hospital, so there can provide adequate care. The reasons for the provided doctor being chosen shall be shown underneath his/her/their/etc. name.

Signature of Parent/Guardian (If patient is under the age of 18) and relation to the patient: Uranium Sight (Father)

Signature of Patient: Aluminum Sight

Doctor Provided: Dr. Victor Cogsworth (GI Specialist)

Reason for Choice: Dr. Victor Cogsworth is the only GI Specialist in the Iolite Hospital with knowledge on Eosinophilic Esophagitis (EoE or EE). He is trained in endoscopy and dilation procedures, as well as other surgical procedures of the gastrointestinal system. Due to these reasons, we feel he is the only doctor who is able to provide proper care for the patient, due to the diagnosis."

I look up to him, his empty eyes locked onto me. My father's voice floats through my head, the words from that day - the last day I saw him and the outside world - echo in my mind. "This is for your own good, boy." I feel sick. I want out, or at least a different doctor, but my father has locked me here. I had no choice in this, much like I had no choice in having a chronic illness in the first place.

"This has to be illegal! This isn't allowed-" He cuts me off by suddenly leaning forward, close to my face. He speaks lowly, the robotic tone sounding colder than ever. "Haven't you noticed how the Iolite Hospital does a lot of strange, abnormal, and illegal things? Like leaving the patients who suffer from addiction to fend for themselves in the Hall of Addiction? Forcefully keeping patients here and tied to a specific doctor isn't close to the worse thing this place has done."

He slowly returns to a standing position in a smooth motion, almost as if spending no energy to do so. "This place... it has rules of its own. Almost like it has a life of its own, compared to other hospitals and healthcare facilities. The play area, the pools, the halls, and the halls themselves are abnormal and unorthodox for a hospital." A tilt of his head cues me to think. It is odd, yes, how this place works.

"You are my patient, and mine, alone. In fact, you are only the second patient I have had with EoE. The first was a little girl, around 7. She didn't do so well, here. I don't know where she went. You will be a fine experiment for me. I will treat you better."

I stand, simply saying "You are a monster. An emotionless monster. A machine. You don't know how to treat people well." His head snaps back to a straight position, the music in his chest slowing as he says "That hurts. I have emotions. You will understand, soon."

I turn, leaving his office. I feel so sick and anxious, like I might puke if I keep dwelling on the fact that I am stuck with HIM in HERE for the rest of my life. He won't die anytime soon. I know that. It has been 11 years since I first met him, and in all that time, he hasn't aged a day. I will have to wait until I am gone to be rid of him. It isn't even either of our faults, however, as my own father was who signed the contract, forcing me to sign with him.

As I thought, my dwelling has made my stomach churn too much, and I run to the nearest bucket to empty the contents of my stomach. Nobody really seems to do anything. All of the nurses, doctors, and even my fellow patients just waltz by, going about their days as usual.

Once I am done, I look around, finding that Derek has begun to approach me. I don't want him to see me like this, so I hurry off to my room before he can finish writing his words down on his paper. I lock myself into an even smaller cell than this hospital, called my patient room, and sit in silence. I hear him knocking on my door. I just wait until he leaves. I am in no mood to talk to anyone. I'll just keep it inside.

[chuchaaay]

I am an ICU nurse and at night we work with midlevel providers (Physician Assistants and Nurse Practitioners). My weekend NP knows that I’m in NP school so she’s been teaching and showing me things🥲

Lately, she’s been teaching me how to read X-rays/scans.

So last night, she let me read all the scans she ordered and asked me if they’re good, bad, what needs to be done for interventions, etc.

Can I just say, Yours Truly(me) read everything correctly 🥹 from ET tube placement (after intubation), Nasogastric tube placements, post central lines insertion to what a pleural effusion looks like and what type of interventions should be anticipated. One of the scans showed an ET tube that needed to be advanced and I told her that … so ET tube advancement we did.

Her famous words last night, “If Jopay approves, then I approve”

I appreciate that so much though. I love learning. And I love what i do 🥲

I think that’s why I haven’t slept after working all night. I still feel that rush 😭

It’s the little Tings 🖤

[thisisthevoice]

when people post pictures online of themselves or a loved one intubated in the ICU i never know what to think. like, i've cared for ICU patients with a breathing tube in and a nasogastric tube in for feeding and so many other lines and tubes in and everyone in that position, understandably, tends to seem so miserable.

i would never want to look at pictures of myself in that situation. and if it's an end of life sort of situation that's not how i'd want to be remembered. and i certainly wouldn't want internet strangers to see me in that condition. i don't get it.

[calypso-finale]

Forty Five.

Aziel has strength on him when he wants too “Aziel, ok. Calm down” lifting him up “we really need to put the nasogastric tube in” the doctor said “I know, after the needle he isn’t trusting anything now” fixing Aziel on my lap “mommy” Aziel sobbed out “I am here baby, it’s ok” Aziel has been so unwell to the point he has stopped eating and drinking, he has been sick if I even give him water so I bought him hospital and he won’t let them do a thing since they put an IV line in his arm, they wrapped his arm up so he can’t pull it but now he won’t let them put the tube up his nose to feed him “ok, ok. Hey, look at me, shall we call dad huh. Shall we see dad, let’s see what dad is doing” I was so scared at him that I ended up calling the ambulance, like he must have caught it at day care, I took him there one fucking day and he got unwell, his grandparents couldn’t take care of him. Every one was busy so I left him there just for one day and he came back to me unwell, he just don’t want food or water, everything comes out of him and I panicked because he looks so weak and sunken, no tears so they said it’s an emergency, just so much drama but I rather he be here “I will entertain him, Aziel sit up. Let dad pick up the phone” Aziel also refuses to go on the bed, he just wants to be on my lap “shall we lay on bed, look at me. Lay on the bed, it will be better. These lovely nurses want you to get better that is all, come. Mommy will stay right here” getting up from the chair, he needs to rest. It hurts me to see my son so tired and upset “see Aziel, you on a big boy bed” the nurse said, the doctor is waiting to get him that tube, they will end up putting him to sleep if they can’t because he is so dehydrated “mommy will be here, hey! Stay there” touching his face, he looked at his arm, he is just staring at it now “ok let’s see what dad is doing” tapping on his name “daddy” Aziel said “yeah dad” Oakley picked up so quickly “I am like an hour from London” he said “I know I am at the hospital now, they admitted him straight away, if you see my dad tell him but also we won’t be coming because of it, also he won’t let them put the tubes in so can you please like try and entertain him” Oakley nodded his head “I cancelled anyways, I am not doing tonight, I just told YBeez, I am coming there” turning the phone “hey Aziel, what you doing?” Aziel didn’t smile, he is tired, he has to be tired “what is that, show me your arm” he looked at me “show dad” I said to him moving the phone back “oh no, I am so sorry that is happening to you son” the doctor didn’t even wait a second, he was wanting Aziel on the bed and he took his chances to get the tub in him, I stepped back and looked away. The nurses swiftly came and entertained Aziel but Aziel isn’t having it as he cried out refusing them to do it “damn” Oakley said “I don’t want them to put him to sleep just to put that in, they are desperate for him to get nutrients” I said.

Seeing my son hooked up to a machine, he is asleep and at peace and I like that but to see him hooked up onto a machine to feed him and to give him the nutrients, he just refused to have it. He was in pain from being sick, my poor baby. I wish I didn’t have to work now, I wish I just cancelled but I didn’t and now look, I literally left him there for a few hours and he was happy, he enjoyed it too but it’s life, kids carry a lot of germs but I hate it “silence” looking over at the door, the nurse came to check in on us again, she keeps checking in on us and that is sweet of her “yes, he looks at peace and that makes me happy, he is not in pain, he was frustrated and I felt useless, thank you” looking at her, she just smiled “do you need anything? I am clocking off now, but the ladies taking over will come and check in on you” shaking my head “no thank you, but thank you” I said “you’re welcome” she walked off, my dad is calling me right on time, answering the call “hi dad” he must be in London now, the tour date in London came up and I was supposed to be there with Aziel but clearly not, I can’t be going there with him like this “I heard about Aziel, Cench has cancelled and rightly so but how is he? I am sad I can’t be there to see him, what happened?” he asked “he caught a bug at day care, well everyone is busy and I don’t mind that so I took him there, he was fine. He came back to me unwell, he was just being sick, not keeping anything down, wouldn’t eat or drink, high temperature too so I called and they bought him here, he is hooked up to an IV and a feeding tube, they said he is malnourished but I have been trying, they aren’t blaming me but I blame me, I feel bad. How do I know when to take action? I don’t know this, now look” I feel like shit “Rylee it’s hard being a parent, you never know the right action to take, you will never know if you did too late or too early, it’s hard but you did what you thought was right, as long as he is ok now that is what matters, I did tell mom. As you know they are in London, the family but I am sad. That my grandchild there, when I get off stage I will be there ok, give him a kiss from me and don’t beat yourself up about, it’s hard being a parent, I know that” taking in a deep breath, dad is right but it’s hard to just digest at times.

Oakley made it, he made his way over to me and hugged me, kissed my forehead too “ok?” I said confused, he then went to Aziel but he is asleep still “he looks so weak you know” he said to me like I don’t know that myself “yeah” I breathed out “but the doctor is ok with how he is currently, he is resting” he kissed Aziel, I am glad he is here though “you didn’t need to cancel the date you know” I said to him “nah, my son needs me” he turned to me “yeah but he is ok, you could have done it” I said “shut up” he spat as he walked off “mhmmm” he got a chair and made his way over to me “I am not going back on tour until he is out, this means more to me. And I want to be here for you, I feel bad though” he mumbled “about?” sitting back in the chair “not being around for you, that you felt alone. I said to my dad and he feels bad, he said she is young and on her own, he didn’t know it was bad. Why didn’t you say it to them? They would have come” I shrugged “it’s my child, I can’t rely on people every time, Aziel is our problem, nobody else’s” which I am right, he can’t just rely on others “I get it but it’s no harm asking for advice, why didn’t you ask your mom?” I laughed “not exactly speaking to her” he let out an oh “why not?” he frowned “she has her own shit, her new baby or whatever and just the whole situation, I mean I was going to eventually speak to her but never had the chance, it’s fine. I mean I learn for next time. The doctor said I took action at the right time, so that made me feel happy” he nodded his head “you’re a good mom, I just wish I was around that is all” smiling at him, he is sweet.

Oakley is very touchy, like this is the third time he has touched my thigh, well kind of patted it “you touchy today aren’t you” I laughed, looking over at Aziel, he is awake but very quiet “I haven’t touched a female in a while” I snorted “right, you been touching men huh?” he shook his head “just I want you to be good Rylee, that is all” smiling at him “I know” I breathed “your dad facetiming? I know he is on stage right now?” Oakley said as he answered it “you ok baby?” leaning over to Aziel “daddy” he pointed “daddy? What is dad doing” my baby “we going to give Chris the phone while on stage, we going to put little Aziel on the screen and show him love, he was supposed to be here” hearing Ant say “oh for real?” Oakley seems taken a back “yeah Chris is upset, hold on. Giving it now” Oakley pointed at me and pointed at Aziel, getting up from the chair “I am going to pause the show for one moment, I am a little sad” hearing my dad say, Oakley gave me his phone. Oh my dad is really doing this “hold on, let me get my phone” placing the phone in front of Aziel “what is grandpa doing” my dad’ face popped up “this my grandson, I am sure y’all can see on the screen” the fans are screaming and Aziel looks so confused “who is that Aziel?” he is just staring at my dad “I am so upset to see you like this big man, I am going to see you after this. I am coming, in three I want ya’ll to show my grandson the love, we wish you the best to get better, so in three, two, one” my dad is crazy, he turned the phone and the whole arena is screaming, Aziel smiled “wow, they screaming for you baby” he is so amazed “I love you! See you soon son!” my dad is actually crazy “Chris is moving mad, he did that for you” Oakley said, Aziel is so amazed, he is happy though, he is smiling but the facetime disconnected “aww my baby” pressing a kiss to his forehead, he makes me smile when he smiles.

Smiling at Oakley, watching him with Aziel makes me so happy, Aziel is looking better but he felt sick again which made me sad to see “you shouldn’t be in the bed with him like that skinny ass” I said “just because you can’t fit” I gasped “rude ass” the door opened, looking over at the door and seeing my mother, my face softened. Not like I was expecting her to come but she did, and it’s shocked me, she closed the door behind her so she is alone, looking at Aziel “who is it?” Oakley asked him, he looked at me “nana” I laughed, every child starts by calling my mom that “grandma came here for you” Oakley got up from the bed, looking over at my mom “I left the kids at the concert, I was unsure if I was welcomed” shaking my head “you are welcome here, you always will be” I am actually happy to see my mom “you want a drink?” Oakley asked me, shaking my head “do you want something Rihanna?” Looking at my mom “no thank you” he nodded his head “I’ll be back” Oakley winked at me as he walked off, I guess it’s his way of giving us space. My mother made her way to Aziel “look at my handsome boy, I missed you so much! I didn’t bring no gifts because grandpa wanted to bring all the gifts for you, he got so many gifts for you” Aziel smiled “are you happy Aziel? Who is it” he looked at me “nana mommy” nodding my head “it is, you tell her what happened to you?” He shook his head “he was just sick before you came so I think he wants to sleep now” my mom sat on the edge of the bed “you scared us, I was so concerned about you” Aziel lifted his free arm up “you want a hug. Awww baby” my mom leaned down to him and hugged him, I know my son has missed her “you’re making me choked up here, I love you so much. You just rest baby, I am here now too” my mom said to him, my mom rested him back down. She placed her hand on her forehead “you’re warming up, I’ll go and get them to give you something for that, you need to rest” getting up from the chair “I’ll do it, it’s ok” let me go and get the nurse.

Aziel is sleepy, he is about to fall asleep “I am happy he is at peace, it’s no worser feeling than your child being unwell. What happened?” My mom asked “I took him to day care because I had work on, I am doing some freelance stuff because you know, with me finishing up my uni work, so Oakley’ parents had work, the couldn’t. He has gone on tour, Ti has gone Milan and my friends were busy so I was like shit, I need to drop him off somewhere, found a day care in west. Took him there and he is fine, he loved it, happy and smiling. He got to see other children, so left him there. Picked him up, same thing, happy and smiling. Then he fell unwell, so much so he was just sick constantly, he caught a bug what can I say, it happens but it got to a point where he stopped eating, he stopped everything besides being sick, no water or anything, he was looking weak so I phoned emergency services, I explained and they sent an ambulance and it hit me how serious it is, I got scared at this point. Then they put him on an IV and feeding tube, and here we are” Aziel has fallen asleep now “things change so quickly with kids, and instantly they get better once they get treated, never blame yourself especially for things like that because as your child starts mingling with other kids, they will become unwell, you did the right thing by calling but don’t blame yourself” nodding my head “thank you” I mumbled, I am happy my mom came, and I was going to call to apologise to her anyways “I was going to call you” I said to her “Rylee, life isn’t promised and it’s too short. I am missing my grandchild, everything is wrong and I get it stems from Brian issue, that was never supposed to be anything deeper then a contract, that was it. I didn’t know you slept with him” she said “because I thought Oakley was cheating” I added “and that isn’t my fault Rylee, I didn’t tell you to do that. Whatever is happening between you and him isn’t my fault, ok I have my issues with him, I have my disdain for him but I didn’t know you was assuming he was cheating and I didn’t think you would sleep with him, that isn’t my fault. And I bet you both aren’t together now and he feels a type of way because of it but he know he has the upper hand because you did that and I bet he has come to you to have sex with you still” I swallowed hard “that is what Chris would do, I know it, I know what it is like and how it is goes. Every man is the same, if us women cheat or do anything it’s the worst thing but if they do it we have to accept it and forgive, Rylee the book of men is no different. Every man does the same shit. I am over the whole thing, if you want to be with him even though I know you can do better, and I sound like momo because she said the same thing to me. I won’t get in your way be involved. I don’t want to know. I just want you to be happy but one thing you can do, if you are planning to be together, get to know each other first” my mom is just spewing words like she knows, I am just silent right now.

I mean if my mom can stick by that then that will make me happy “I am sorry mom, like I know the things you have done for me is out of love. I know I have been a brat, a spoilt one at that. I am sorry I didn’t speak to you either, at that point when I was in America I was going through things personally and I did take it out on you, I was mad with myself mostly but you got the shit for it, and I am sorry for that. Since having a son, having the nasty birth, everything. It’s been a lot, I don’t regret Aziel at all but it’s made me feel a certain way about things, about me. Brian, it was lights off, Oakley it was lights on, he knew me but I feel I have changed within me, within myself. I feel like he can do better, and I know you have been through that” my mom breathed out laughing “oh I have, and it’s a battle, it always will be because men don’t change like we do Rylee, we have a baby and everything changes, then there is better looking girls there, youthful, untouched. You know how men are, but it’s down to the person. Now knowing that Okaley didn’t cheat like you assumed, and you’re telling me he is coming to you, wanting you, he is still. I don’t want to say it but I am. He is still turned on by you, this shows he loves you Rylee, it shows he wants you but you got to start from the beginning, I made the mistake of marrying the man I fell for at sixteen when really we both changed and it was hell for us, oh my god it was bad and you know that. You have time, don’t make that mistake as I did, I care about you Rylee I do, I love you so much and at times it comes off as different but it’s not that. If you want that then go for it but do it the right way. I just want you to be ok, I love you and I am sorry for pushing my agenda on you with him, that is my bad” my mom said, she doesn’t understand how much I have missed her “I am sorry too mom” my mom looks emotional, I do feel bad about all this.

[bhushans]

Exploring New Technologies in the Enteral Feeding Devices Market

The enteral feeding devices market is set for steady growth, with a projected compound annual growth rate (CAGR) of 4.0% over the forecast period. According to recent market analysis, the market is expected to increase from USD 2.8 billion in 2023 to USD 4.1 billion by 2033, reflecting the growing demand for efficient and reliable enteral feeding solutions.

Enteral feeding devices, essential for providing nutrition to patients who cannot consume food orally, are increasingly in demand due to the rising prevalence of chronic diseases, aging populations, and advancements in medical technology. These devices play a crucial role in patient care, particularly in hospitals, long-term care facilities, and home healthcare settings.

The market’s growth is driven by the continuous innovation and improvement in enteral feeding technologies, ensuring better patient outcomes and enhanced quality of care. Key players in the industry are focusing on developing more efficient, user-friendly, and safe enteral feeding solutions to meet the evolving needs of healthcare providers and patients.

Get your PDF Sample Report: https://www.futuremarketinsights.com/reports/sample/rep-gb-12403

The promising future of the enteral feeding device market highlights its vital function in the healthcare industry in providing for the nutritional requirements of patients unable to swallow food. With consistent expansion and ongoing innovation, the industry is poised to significantly advance patient care across the globe.

Key Takeaways:

Market Growth: The enteral feeding devices market is projected to grow at a CAGR of 4.0% from 2023 to 2033.

Current and Future Valuation: The market holds a current valuation of US$ 2.8 billion in 2023 and is expected to reach US$ 4.1 billion by 2033.

Driving Factors: Key drivers of this growth include rising incidences of chronic diseases, technological advancements in medical devices, and an aging global population necessitating increased nutritional support.

Market Dynamics: The market dynamics are influenced by healthcare providers’ increasing focus on homecare settings, enhancing patient comfort and reducing hospital stays.

Enteral Feeding Devices Market — Regional Analysis

North America and Europe are expected to cumulatively account for nearly 70% of overall market value, with the former holding 40% of the share.

The dominance of these regions is attributed to favorable medical policies and the strong presence of market players.

Asia Pacific is forecasted to register tremendous growth on the back of rising healthcare expenditure, the presence of a large patient pool, and a burgeoning number of preterm births.

Enteral Feeding Devices Market — Competitive Landscape

Major market players operating in the market include ICU Medical, Boston Scientific Corporation, Fresenius Kabi, Abbott Laboratories, Cook Medical, Cardinal Health, Inc., Becton Dickinson & Company, and Dynarex Corporation among others. Market players are focusing on developing innovative products with low weight to increase portability.

On these lines, Infinity Feeding Pumps launched the Zevex EnteraLite Infinity Feeding Pump, which weighs less than one pound.

Key Contributors:

Abbott Nutrition

ALCOR Scientific

Applied Medical Technology

B. Braun Melsungen AG

Boston Scientific

CONMED Corporation

Cook Medical

Cardinal Health, Inc.

Becton, Dickinson, and Company

Fresenius Kabi

Owens & Minor, Inc. (Halyard Health)

Medline

Moog

Nestlé Health Science

Danone SA

Vygon SA

Amsino International, Inc.

Fuji Systems Corp

Neomed

Smiths Medical (Smiths Group)

Key Segments:

By Product Type:

Enteral Feeding Pumps

Nasogastric Tubes

Nasojejunal Tubes

Percutaneous Endoscopic Gastrostomy (PEG) Kit

PEG Balloon Kit

PEG Non-Balloon Kit

Replacement G-Tubes

Replacement Balloon G-Tubes

Replacement Non-Balloon G-Tubes

Percutaneous Endoscopic Gastro-Jejunostomy (PEGJ) Tubes

Low-profile Tubes

Low-profile Balloon Tubes

Low-profile Non-Balloon Tubes

By Age Group:

Adult

Pediatric

By End User:

Hospital

Clinic

Ambulatory Surgical Center

Home Care Setting

By Region:

North America

Latin America

Europe

Asia Pacific (APAC)

The Middle East & Africa (MEA)

[cravesunconditionallove]

Fair warning long rant. Ignore if you don’t wanna read. Adding on:

As someone with a not so benign heart condition (🥲) before I got my diagnosis I spent A Lot of time in the hospital. ICU, cardiac ICU, various step down units. I got my pacemaker/ICD and on the right meds and am generally chilling now. But your point is correct.

They DO NOT leave you alone for more than 4 hours. They do vitals and give you meds. Or just check in. But if you ask for warm blankies sometimes they give :D

Bend your arm? The IV pump thinks it’s got a clog and starts making a really obnoxious alarming noise. It’s never during the day, always when you are deeply asleep. Same with nasogastric tube feeding pumps. Those fuckers. Man. SO LOUD!!

You get bruises if they don’t swap the arm they’re using to check BP. Little dotted bruise lines down my upper arm.

It gets REALLY boring after the first day and the drama of your admission wears off. My longest stay was 2 weeks and I thought I was gonna go insane!

There’s always some kind of alarm going on in your room or someone else’s, sometimes the nurses silenced it (in my case my heart monitor kept going off every minute or so because I would go into arrhythmias constantly and we already knew about it so they turned the alarms off on my side, but they still went off in the nurses station.)

Once you leave, you might miss the hospital. I know I did. I had a predictable routine, people were nice, and I got to be lazy without people telling me to go do something productive. Lol

btw, whump tip for those who havent spent a night in the hospital before:

They come to check on you every hour or so and alarms and monitors are constantly going off - often if you move wrong to twist tubing. It's very loud and hard to get decent rest.

[omkarpatel]

What is a Cannula?

A cannula is a small, thin tube used to deliver or remove fluid or medication from the body without making a significant incision. Cannulas are commonly used in medical procedures such as dialysis or chemotherapy in order to access veins or other areas of the body. In this article, we will discuss what a cannula is, the different types of cannulas used, and how they are employed in various medical treatments and procedures. Types of Cannula There are several different types of cannulas used depending on the specific medical application and area of the body being accessed. Some of the most common types include: IV Cannula: Also known as an intravenous cannula, this is one of the most widely used types. An IV cannula is a small, flexible plastic tube inserted into a vein to deliver fluids, blood transfusions, medications or nutrients directly into the bloodstream. IV cannulas are commonly placed in arm or hand veins. Central Line Cannula: Larger than an IV cannula, a central line cannula is placed directly into a large vein near the heart for procedures requiring long-term vascular access like chemotherapy, dialysis or parenteral nutrition. These are inserted into major veins in the neck, chest or groin. Arterial Cannula: Similar to a central line but inserted into an artery, arterial cannulas are used during certain heart procedures or surgeries to monitor blood pressure or collect blood samples. Nasogastric Cannula: A tube inserted through the nose down into the stomach to drain fluids or deliver nutrition/medication. Surgical Cannula: Specially shaped cannulas are used during minimally invasive surgeries, allowing tools and cameras to be inserted through small incisions. How Cannulas Are Used Some of the most common medical uses and procedures cannulas are employed in include: Dialysis: For patients with kidney failure, cannulas placed in arm veins are used to remove blood for purification during hemodialysis treatment and return cleaned blood back into the body. Chemotherapy: Central line cannulas are often used to deliver strong chemotherapy drugs or medications directly into larger blood vessels to treat conditions like cancer. Total Parenteral Nutrition (TPN): For patients who cannot receive nutrition orally, TPN involves delivering a balanced mixture of nutrients and calories through a central line cannula and into veinsfeeding directly into the bloodstream. Blood Transfusions: IV cannulas allow blood products to be administered safely into arm veins during transfusions to treat conditions causing anemia. Heart Surgeries/Procedures: Arterial cannulas are inserted into blood vessels connected to the heart to pump blood around the heart-lung machine during certain types of cardiac surgery. Other Surgical Procedures: Small cannulas inserted through small incisions are used in numerous minimally invasive procedures like laparoscopic surgery, reducing trauma and recovery time compared to open surgery.

[minniefights]

Quick Update (Update #15)

November 12, 2023

Today, an ICU nurse came to:

1) Remove her Central Line or Central Venous Catheter (which was inserted in her neck) because it’s no longer working.

2) A new IV line in her arm is inserted. This will probably work for 2-4 days so a new one will have to be inserted after that. She needs this because she’s on another round of IV antibiotics because of her Pneumonia.

3) Change her urine catheter.

4) And the mostly awaited, to remove her NGT (nasogastric tube) because she can now swallow food (soft diet) and drink medicines.

Praise the Lord!

She’s also glued to her adult coloring book. Making art daily is one activity she thoroughly enjoys.

Prayer Request

🙏🏽 Healing from Pneumonia and other infections.

🙏🏽 That her medical needs be accommodated here at home.

🙏🏽 That she will be able to resume chemotherapy.

🙏🏽 Grace, peace, joy everyday.

🙏🏽 For provision for all the needs.

🙏🏽 For God’s will to be done!

[market-insider]

Nasogastric Tube Market: A Comprehensive Study

The global nasogastric tube market size is expected to reach USD 754.5 billion by 2030. The major factors that fuel the market growth are the rising penetration of chronic conditions such as CVD, bleeding disorders, dysphagia, and others. A growing number of preterm births and an increasing geriatric population further boost the market growth.

Gain deeper insights on the market and receive your free copy with TOC now @: Nasogastric Tube Market Report

The geriatric population inhibits higher chances of comorbid conditions that lead them to develop malnutrition. In such situations, nasogastric tubes are highly useful. As per the data from the CDC, in 2021, preterm birth affected about one of every ten infants born in the U.S. The percentage of preterm cases increased from 10.1% in 2021 to 10.5% in 2022. Similarly, according to the WHO, people aged 60 and above increased from 900 million in 2015 to 2,000 million in 2050.

Furthermore, key players worldwide are focusing on various strategic initiatives such as launching advanced products, expansion, and mergers & acquisitions to expand their dominance in the market. For instance, in May 2021, QMD expanded its enteral feeding portfolio by launching a new Degania line of Bi-Port and Single-Port Feeding Tubes for nasogastric feeding.

Unlike other markets, COVID-19 didn’t negatively impact the industry as there was a significant rise in the number of hospitalizations, which further increased the demand for nasogastric tubes for critically ill patients. However, factors such as delayed development of technologically advanced products, and increasing cases of side effects like skin irritation, tube perforation, tube dislocation, retching, and gagging are projected to hamper the market growth over the forecast period.

[bhushans]

Beyond Diagnosis: Exploring Global Enteral Feeding Devices Market

The global enteral feeding devices market is poised for significant growth over the next decade, expanding at an average compound annual growth rate (CAGR) of 4.0% during the forecast period. In 2023, the market is valued at approximately USD 2.8 billion and is projected to reach an estimated USD 4.1 billion by 2033.

This robust growth trajectory is driven by several key factors, including increasing prevalence of chronic diseases, rising geriatric population, and advancements in medical technology. The growing awareness about the benefits of enteral feeding in improving patient outcomes, particularly in critical care settings, further supports the market expansion.

As the market evolves, industry leaders are expected to focus on innovative product development and strategic partnerships to cater to the increasing demand for efficient and reliable enteral feeding solutions. The ongoing investments in research and development are likely to result in more user-friendly and technologically advanced feeding devices, enhancing patient comfort and care quality.

Request Your Detailed Report Sample With Your Work Email : https://www.futuremarketinsights.com/reports/sample/rep-gb-12403

The enteral feeding devices market’s positive outlook underscores its critical role in the healthcare sector, addressing the nutritional needs of patients who cannot consume food orally. With sustained growth and continuous innovations, the market is set to make significant strides in improving patient care worldwide.

Key Takeaways:

Market Growth: The enteral feeding devices market is projected to grow at a CAGR of 4.0% from 2023 to 2033.

Current and Future Valuation: The market holds a current valuation of US$ 2.8 billion in 2023 and is expected to reach US$ 4.1 billion by 2033.

Driving Factors: Key drivers of this growth include rising incidences of chronic diseases, technological advancements in medical devices, and an aging global population necessitating increased nutritional support.

Market Dynamics: The market dynamics are influenced by healthcare providers’ increasing focus on homecare settings, enhancing patient comfort and reducing hospital stays.

Enteral Feeding Devices Market — Regional Analysis

North America and Europe are expected to cumulatively account for nearly 70% of overall market value, with the former holding 40% of the share.

The dominance of these regions is attributed to favorable medical policies and the strong presence of market players.

Asia Pacific is forecasted to register tremendous growth on the back of rising healthcare expenditure, the presence of a large patient pool, and a burgeoning number of preterm births.

Enteral Feeding Devices Market — Competitive Landscape

Major market players operating in the market include ICU Medical, Boston Scientific Corporation, Fresenius Kabi, Abbott Laboratories, Cook Medical, Cardinal Health, Inc., Becton Dickinson & Company, and Dynarex Corporation among others. Market players are focusing on developing innovative products with low weight to increase portability.

On these lines, Infinity Feeding Pumps launched the Zevex EnteraLite Infinity Feeding Pump, which weighs less than one pound.

Key Contributors:

Abbott Nutrition

ALCOR Scientific

Applied Medical Technology

B. Braun Melsungen AG

Boston Scientific

CONMED Corporation

Cook Medical

Cardinal Health, Inc.

Becton, Dickinson, and Company

Fresenius Kabi

Owens & Minor, Inc. (Halyard Health)

Medline

Moog

Nestlé Health Science

Danone SA

Vygon SA

Amsino International, Inc.

Fuji Systems Corp

Neomed

Smiths Medical (Smiths Group)

Key Segments:

By Product Type:

Enteral Feeding Pumps

Nasogastric Tubes

Nasojejunal Tubes

Percutaneous Endoscopic Gastrostomy (PEG) Kit

PEG Balloon Kit

PEG Non-Balloon Kit

Replacement G-Tubes

Replacement Balloon G-Tubes

Replacement Non-Balloon G-Tubes

Percutaneous Endoscopic Gastro-Jejunostomy (PEGJ) Tubes

Low-profile Tubes

Low-profile Balloon Tubes

Low-profile Non-Balloon Tubes

By Age Group:

Adult

Pediatric

By End User:

Hospital

Clinic

Ambulatory Surgical Center

Home Care Setting

By Region:

North America

Latin America

Europe

Asia Pacific (APAC)

The Middle East & Africa (MEA)

[minniefights]

Update #13: Home at last

Last Thursday, we finally went home after more than 3 weeks in the hospital. Mom has been saying she wants to go home countless of times. But she wasn’t very well. So I was very dismissive of the idea. Until a few days ago, Mom cried a lot begging to be home. We know we can’t dismiss it this time.

But we have to give her the full scenario of her situation, including weighing the pros and cons. I had to clearly explain that at home we won’t be able to quickly respond to emergencies because we don’t have facilities nor medical experts at our disposal. She took a hard pause and thought about it. And finally I asked her to mark her choice and she ticked “Siblings. Love. Food. Etc.” That’s it. We start planning our discharge thereafter.

Her tears speaks so much. You see when she found out she had Cancer, she has questions but I did not see her cry. Casually, we talk about death and she doesn’t cry either. But loneliness, isolation from the people whom she loves, and there goes the tears pouring. This speaks so much about who my mother is, what she stands for. She always chooses life! As if screaming “What will I do with the medical facilities and staff if that deters me from fully living?” Diagnosis, pain, even death does not scare her, it’s the aching pain of loneliness that does.

Mom went home and with her NGT (nasogastric tube) because she doesn’t eat very well yet. She also still has her Central Venous Cathether (it’s like IV line but on her right neck, she had it because her veins had gotten so thin, it’s hard for the nurses/med techs to access). And also she her urinary catheter. We had to manage and transition so many things. Currently we have caregiver who comes 7AM-7PM who helps us out, my uncle nurse who lives at home and our family doctor visits to check on my mom. They help us manage the situation so Mom could get medical attention while at home. We also chart her vital signs to show it to the doctors (Blood Sugar, Blood Pressure, O2 Saturation, Heart Rate, Temperature and Water intake and output).

It’s hard but Mom’s joy makes it worth it. Upon arriving, she looked at me in the eye and said “Salamat ha!” I felt it deep into my core.

While waiting for our trip back home, she was also excited as ever. Check out her dancey dance!

But how is Mom really?

At the moment, we will still need to wait for the repeat laboratories to check on everything. As you know, when the patient’s discharged it’s also more difficult to access these things. But she’s already done with antibiotics for her UTI. Currently, the blockage in one of her arteries, is manageable as the doctors said. However, she’s really bed-bound now and has lost her mobility. She’s very determined to get it back, though, and looks forward to her Physical Therapy sessions.

But just basing on things not quantifiable by science, I could say my Mom is so much better because she’s VERY happy to be home. Her eyes sparkle more often, she smiles so much more and she even laughs every now and then! She’s eats more and she looks forward to her cold smoothies which I make for her daily. She has prescription milk which I infuse with fruits and ice, gives it to her twice a day. So far, she has been raving about her Durian Smoothie which she rated 10/10. She’s had it twice in the span of 3 days and we allow her since her blood sugar and blood pressure is on a healthy level.

We claim this is God’s miracle at work and we thank you for all those who have been praying for us! We know that our friends and family coming from different parts of the world have been praying non-stop. Our local community (The Light of the World) has also been praying together via Zoom three times a day! And you have been so generous in helping our practically and financially as well, it has helped us a lot in paying of our dues to the hospital! Thank you, thank you, thank you so much.

A quick snap of Mom, myself and Nono Nard (Fr Maynard, my Mom’s older brother and best friend)