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2016-11-05 05:52 am (UTC)
i care about proper medical treatment in scifi, apparently??? this was supposed to be like 1k max
Finn shot up out of bed - or, at least, he tried to. Grimacing at the bite of pain that shot up his neck when he moved, Finn fell back against the bed with a soft groan. He tried to turn his head to get a better look at where he was, but got similar results. Staring straight up provided a thrilling view of an off-white ceiling, slightly textured, the kind of tile used in prefab facilities.
Not First Order facilities, though. Where was he? Obviously not on Starkiller Base anymore. Probably not any other First Order facility - no way they’d bother keeping him alive after all the damage he’d done. So process of elimination suggested… the Resistance?
Which meant the Resistance had survived. Which probably meant Starkiller Base had been damaged, if not totally destroyed. Finn sighed. Good. Good. Thank… something. The Force, Finn guessed, assuming the Force worked like that.
Still, he couldn’t help but feel something was wrong. Or missing, at least. He tried to recall his dreams, but aside from the burst of panic he’d woken up with, there was… nothing.
Somewhere below his eyeline, a droid whirred and beeped. Hoping he wasn’t imagining the familiar tone - not that he could really tell one droid’s “voice” from another’s - Finn said, “H-hello?” He coughed; his voice was hoarse. That seemed like a bad sign. “Beebee-Ate, is that you?”
More mechanical sounds. Very helpful.
“Why did I even ask,” Finn groaned, and coughed again, wincing when the motion pulled a muscle in his back that did not want to be pulled. “Hey, hey!” he shouted, hoping there was someone around, somewhere. “Can anybody hear me?”
Whirring, beeps, and then quiet sounds of movement, something small rolling away. Lying there practically vibrating with impatience and worry, Finn tried to distract himself with small extremity tests. Touching his thumbs to the tip of each finger, rotating his wrists and ankles to check his range of motion, wiggling his toes… everything he could move without moving his back seemed normal. He was resorting to flexing his fingers (fist - loose - hyperextended - loose - repeat) to occupy himself when the rolling sound returned, with accompanying footsteps.
The footsteps came to a stop. “How about that, he is awake.” They leaned over Finn’s bed far enough that he could see it was the doctor he’d handed Chewbacca’s care off to when the Millennium Falcon had first arrived at the Resistance’s headquarters. “Finn, my name is Dr. [tk name??]. You’re on D’Qar. Do you remember how you got here?”
Finn bit his lip. “I - no. Last thing I remember was Starkiller Base. Kylo Ren knocked the lightsaber out of my hand, and…” Pain, and then cold, which meant - oh, shit. “He hit me?”
Dr. [TK] nodded. “That’s right.”
Finn’s jaw dropped. “I took a lightsaber to the back and I survived?”
She laughed. “It surprised us, too.”
“Is it safe for me to sit up?” Finn asked, worried. Who knew what a lightsaber could to your spine? What if he’d broken something, trying to sit up too quick? “I tried earlier, but - ”
“Hmm,” she said thoughtfully. She motioned to someone else, outside Finn’s view, and hands landed on his hips and shoulders. “It should be safe, but we’re going to roll you on your side very carefully, just in case. Let me know if anything hurts, and where.” She counted to three, and hands pushed and pulled at Finn’s body until he was lying on the shoulder that hadn’t hurt earlier, back exposed to the air. “Anything?”
Finn shifted slightly, stretching a few muscle groups as a test. Sure enough - “Upper back, left side,” he hissed.
“Only with movement, or all the time?”
“Only with movement.”
“Good,” she said. Fingers pressed against his back in different places. “No pain anywhere else? No tingling or numbness?”
He started to shake his head, remembering halfway through the motion to take it slow. The pain wasn’t quite as bad now that he knew it was coming. “Just there. I’ve got full feeling through to my toes and normal range of motion, as best I could tell.”
“Do you?” She sounded amused. “I think I’ll test that for myself, if you don’t mind. Rolling you onto your back in three, two, one… good.” She smiled at Finn once he was flat on his back again. “Do you have medical training, Finn?”
Finn shifted his good shoulder up and down in a weak imitation of a shrug as she started testing his range with familiar techniques, if unfamiliar gentleness. “Just field medic certification. You have to know what’s normal to treat the not normal stuff.”
“Very true,” she said, twisting his leg through hip flexion and extension. Something jerked when she pulled his knee flat against his chest, and Finn could only watch as his leg tried to kick the doctor in the face.
“I’m so sorry,” he blurted out, horrified. “That’s never happened before.”
That made Dr. [tk] and her assistant laugh, for some reason. She pulled his other leg through the same stretches, unconcerned when that strange reflex-kick happened again, pulled and pushed his arms every which way, and then asked him to sit up.
Finn took his time about it, and once again found that knowing the pain was coming made it easier to bear. Staying upright was a little harder - his chest didn’t want to hold itself up, and when he flung his arms out for balance they were shaky. Not because they hurt, or anything, it felt more like general weakness. Which meant…
“How long was I out?” Finn wondered.
“Three weeks,” the doctor said. Pressing something cold - metal, Finn thought - against his lower back, she said, “Now breath deep.”
“Deep, please.” Finn breathed in. “Good. Hold that for me?” He held his breath, noticing a different kind of muscle ache as he did so. “And let it out.” Finn breathed out. “Good.” She repeated this process another three times, then did something to the bed to make the top half rise up, letting Finn sit upright but supported.
Now he could see he was definitely in a med[tk term??], not shiny enough to be First Order but still clean enough that he wasn’t worried about infection. He didn’t recognize the doctor’s assistant, but in the open doorway of the room waited a familiar droid.
The doctor smiled over her shoulder at BB-8. “That droid has made its share of enemies here, being underfoot while we treated you, sitting there every day it wasn’t offworld, waiting for you to wake up…”
“I didn’t mean to get it in trouble,” Finn said, distraught.
The doctor laughed. “No one’s in trouble. I only meant to say, you must have done something miraculous to inspire that kind of loyalty in a droid.” Had he? Finn couldn’t think of anything he’d done that could be called “miraculous”. BB-8 let out a long string of sounds that left the doctor with raised eyebrows. “Really?”
“Whatever it’s saying, it’s exaggerating,” Finn said quickly. He didn’t need people thinking he was bragging.
BB-8 made some sharper sounds.
“Your friend disagrees with you,” Dr. [tk] said, sitting down in a chair at Finn’s bedside. “As would its master, I suspect.”
Finn blinked. “Poe?”
“He’s been down here a time or two himself,” the doctor said, grinning. “Which, if you know anything about Poe Dameron, is practically a miracle in itself.”
Finn blinked again. “It is?”
Her smile faded slightly. “Yes, well. I’m getting off-topic.” She looked over the notes she’d taken during Finn’s exam. “The good news is nothing appears to be injured that we weren’t expecting. Some of your trapezius and intercostal muscles - the muscles on the back of your neck and between your ribs - were badly burned by the lightsaber, but are healing well. There was some nerve damage, but the repairs seem to have taken. That’s why you had that little kick, when I brought your leg up to your chest? It’s where your natural nerves and the implanted nerves overlap.”
“Oh.” Finn looked down at his body thoughtfully. New nerves in there now. “What’s the bad news?”
Dr. [tk] tapped a finger against the side of her notes. “The bad news is that recovery is not going to be easy. We can treat the pain and stiffness with anti-inflammatories and muscle relaxants, but getting the muscles back to their normal strength and flexibility is going to take time. Weeks of physical therapy, if not months.”
Finn nodded. “Right, of course.”
Dr. [tk] started, then smiled. “That’s a refreshing reaction. Most people I talk to want to be back on their feet and fighting tomorrow, if not sooner.”
Finn frowned. “Why? If they aren’t healthy when they go back into the fight, won’t they just get hurt worse?”
She nodded, making an agreeing sound. “That’s what I try to tell them, but some of these hotshots just won’t listen.” Adding something to her notes, she said, “We could use more people like you around here, Finn.”
You are officer material, FN-2187.
Finn looked away, trying to take the compliment the way it was intended. Just because the tone of voice was familiar was no reason for him to be breathless, wanting to take off a helmet that was long gone. “Thanks,” he mumbled.
Setting aside her notes with a metallic clack, she smiled. “Ask anyone, Finn. You’ll find I’m not one to say things that aren’t true. Now,” she said, getting to her feet, “how do we feel about trying to stand?”
Looking down at his feet, and remembering how his arms had wobbled, Finn smiled at Dr. [tk] uncertainly. “Nervous, but like it’s worth a shot?”
She laughed. “That’s the spirit.”
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