November 16th, 1891 — St. Mungo's Hospital
@'Marie-Louise Skovgaard'

The argument that someone should side-along him to the hospital had been a strong one, especially given that at that point he was in no shape to try it alone.  It was a quick trip and with fully trained auror at the helm he was all but guaranteed to arrive exactly as planned.  But no amount of logic could convince him to disapparate again with his shoulder the way it was.  He'd already done so once and he was quite frankly amazed that the limb was still attached. 

Thankfully they eventually agreed and didn’t simply wait until he'd passed out and was unable to protest.  Instead he was ushered to a fireplace with a handful of floo powder.  Swaying where he stood, he performed the usual ritual and immediately regretted all of his life choices that had led to that moment.  It turned out floo-ing with a mangled shoulder was just as blindingly painful as disapparating with one was. 

He landed with a groan and stumbled forward, bracing against the brickwork with his good shoulder waiting for the world to stop spinning.  An auror was close behind him, checking to make sure he'd arrived before promptly leaving again.  Jack didn’t blame them (they weren't even acquaintances after all) but it did leave him to find his own way, clutching his left arm to keep it from swinging painfully as he walked. 

He shambled forward feeling a little disoriented and settled on the first person he came to "Excuse me, where do I … I need…" he started, surprised by the grit in his own voice.  Putting together a full and sensible sentence was harder than it ought to be. 

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A yawn cracked Malou's mouth open widely as she held up a slender hand to hide it. No doubt her eyes wouldn't hide her exhaustion, but at least she could pretend at politeness and hide the obvious evidence that a wide open mouth rudely implied. If this kept up much longer she was going to have to put a stop to it. Ever since moving to the Bagshots' home in Wellington when Fallon had gotten married Malou's godmother, Mrs. Bagshot, had made it her quest to get Malou out and about. Never mind the fact that Malou held a rigorous full time position at St. Mungo's as a trained healer, nor the fact that she had no inclination to participate in Mrs. Bagshot's schemes. But her godmother persisted including Malou in every thing she could think of when Malou was not at work. To make it worse Mrs. Bagshot had insisted on new clothing for Malou. It was not unusual to come home to find a new ballgown spread on the bed and a maid waiting to attend her before she was whisked away from the warmth and quiet of the rest she had hoped to get.

Last night had only been a dinner but as Mrs. Bagshot had hosted it would have been rude to retire early. So Malou had sat in the parlor quietly watching the rest of the party and hoping for a chance to slip away so she could get more than a few hours of sleep before her early shift the next morning. Of course she had only managed to get to bed two hours before her shift so it had been next to pointless and now she was paying the price.

With the intention of doing something - anything to stay awake, Malou had started down to the lunch room past the reception area at the front of the hospital. But was stopped there by a young man. His face looked pale and he looked as if he could barely stand. Her eyes quickly focused on him, ignoring the burning sting of exhaustion, and scanned over for injuries. Her eyes caught on his shoulder. As bloody and covered in torn clothing as it was she was unsure of how bad the injury was. Perhaps a spliching accident or maybe an injury?

"Sit." Malou's quiet voice held command as she gestured at a nearby chair, thankfully only a yard behind him next to the wall. "What happened?" Had it been one of the admitting nurses then Malou would have asked what type of injury, but it was a patient. Where were the admitting staff? Malou didn't bother to glance around it did not matter at the moment.

  

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He didn't need telling twice.  He sank into a nearby chair with a groan, still clutching his left arm.  He didn’t have any idea if this was the chair but it was a chair and he was glad to be sat in it.  Now that he was here and the adrenaline was wearing off, the effects of his injury and the delay in getting it seen to were all catching up with him at once.

"Well I …" he used his good arm to mime reaching out in front of him since full sentences seemed like such an effort at the moment.  "And then he disapparated." Jack couldn’t help but chuckle.  Even listening to his own brief recap i was easy enough to imagine himself getting yanked along as the man tried to flee, his arm nearly getting splinched off at the shoulder in the process.  "But I got him." He added with a victorious nod.  "And then apparated with it like this… and then the floo."  he shook his head.  The pain of it was still fresh in his mind and even he could see how foolish it was in retrospect. 

He finally looked up at his helper, his eyes taking a moment to focus on her face.  He managed a weak grin.  "I suppose it's still attached but I don't know by how much." 

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Had Malou not been well versed in piecing together half sentences, after all she had seen it quite a bit in her years as a healer, she might not have known what he was talking about. To be honest she was not entirely sure she did understand in the entirety, but she felt she knew the gist. A spliching injury was her best guess. Despite having a suspicion of what was wrong she felt that she really ought to clarify. The nurses would in such a case, she knew. She really did not like to try and heal someone if she weren't sure what had happened. Spell damage could be tricky, spells could be just as tasty as jinxes if misused. She was fairly certain that this was something to do with charms, but if it had to do with creatures or plants or even poisons she would much rather send him to the appropriate wing. She had done her rotation through the wings as a trainee but that had been years ago. She did not doubt her skills in a disaster and could help, but when it came to the every day she really felt that one ought to be treated in the appropriate wing to receive the best help possible.

Malou's eyes watched his face intently as she quietly asked, "Side long spliching?" It definitely would not have been a good idea to apperate with it further. But she suspected he was likely in law enforcement. He seemed a bit young to be out in the field as an auror, perhaps it was only a the shenanigans of a young rowdy group of friends. She wasn't entirely sure. It wasn't her place to ask. But apperation and then floo, the injury was likely aggravated further from that, if not even more deeply injured. Even as she waited for his answer she had placed gentle hands on the top of his shoulder and elbow and moved to inspect the wound. It was hanging on, but by bone and the barest of muscle only. Malou's gentle fingers felt his upper shoulder and lower arm for additional injury. It would be better to get him to a bed incase he passed out. It would do the wound no good to be further jostled by slipping from the chair in a faint and hitting the floor.

"Do you think you can walk?" There was an empty room right at the front of the spell damage ward, if she could get him there then she wouldn't need to worry about. She held out a pale hand, the arm of her healer's robe dangling below it, the fabric folding on itself, meticulously clean, to offer her support in venturing there. It was the closest ward to get him too, if he needed after ward's help she decided she'd just have to bring one of those healers to him instead. There was no way he'd make it to the Creature Injury ward with the wanness in his face. She was surprised he was even on his feet with the amount of blood she suspected he had lost.

  

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His smile turned a bit dopey as she looked at him so intently.  Gosh she was pretty, he thought to himself, easily distracted.  He snapped his fingers as if she'd suddenly helped him remember the words he'd been searching for. 

"Yes! That’s the wor-" he began but was cut short with a sharp gasp as she moved his arm.  He clenched his teeth as she continued her inspection, doing his best fight the urge to yank away from her.  There was some kind of base instinct screaming in his mind to protect his shoulder… and in that moment her ministrations felt like the one giant threat. 

She prodded around for what felt like a hour and when she finally finished he released a ragged breath he hadn’t realized he'd been holding.  "Merlin… that hurt" he muttered, taking a moment to catch his breath.  It was honestly a little impressive, maybe causing blinding pain with a few simple touches was a thing healers got trained in.

"Yeah, of course" he answered immediately, pushing up out of the chair with his best stoic face.  That may not have been completely truthful but before he'd even actually thought about it he'd already committed, his casual tone belying the sudden wave of dizziness that washed over him.  After a few unsteady steps he stopped abruptly "Wait, where am I going?"

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There was an enthusiasm to the boy, Malou determined as he snapped with memory and started to agree. That alone had Malou's lips tilting up in a smile - at least until he cut off. She could hear the intact of breathe that normally meant she had caused pain which in turn made her wince very slightly. At least he admitted to the pain, a boy his age, she might have expected him too try and suck it up. So many of them did. Even when they were absolutely horribleat pretending they were fine. Boys and men both.

Habitually she added, "I'm sorry." She hated hurting patients, always had hated inflicting any sort of pain, but over the years she had grown use to the fact that sometimes she would have to cause pain in order to heal a patient. In those early years when she had been training she had had to constantly remind herself that a small amount of pain in healing was better than the lasting pain from not healing - not to mention pain if an infection or diasese worsened.

Without a moment's hesitation he stood up, his voice was easy going as if use to following along with another person's wishes or demands. But there was something else too, a hitch in the voice, a wobble in his body as he tried to straighten. Yet he tried to walk, each step a wobble that had Malou watching closing keeping in step to catch him if he were about to fall. At least he was going in the right direction, Malou had thought to assist him with her own arm and lead him, but he had gone right past her.

"Right through those doors." Malou nodded at the heavy set doors in front of them. Malou took her wand out of the deep pocket in her robes, grateful for her healer's robes (after Sanditon her dispotion toward dresses and reticules had soured immensely, not that Mrs. Bagshot allowed her to attend a single event in her wizarding robes), with a swisch and a quiet murmured spell she waved the doors open.

"Here." She tucked herself under his good arm and supported him as they took another step. "It's okay if you can't walk." Malou's quiet voice was gentle and reassuring. "I can always magic a stretcher." She did it all the time and would have done it if the boy had said he couldn't walk, but he'd just hopped on up as if nothing were wrong and had given her no time for any suggestions. She wouldn't hesitate to levitate him to the room if he were to begin to fall though - she wasn't going to risk any further injury from a boy's sheer stubbornness.

  

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"No, no. Of course I can walk." he insisted stoically, even as she slipped in under his arm.  He peered down at her as if momentarily confused but didn’t protest.  It was kind of nice to have her there even if it was suddenly and irrationally important to him that he made it to the bed on how own two feet.  There was no way he'd volunteer to be delivered to a hospital bed in the same way he'd just delivered a wanted man to the auror office.

Sharing the burden of staying upright with her, he made it through the opened doors with much more grace than he might have done alone.  At least it was his arm and not his leg.  It would've been much harder to make a case for getting himself to the room.

He let her steer him, not actually paying attention where they were going.  The adrenaline that had kept him going before was now firmly wearing off leaving him exhausted and driven to distraction by the pain that radiated from his shoulder.  When they finally arrived he lifted his arm from around her shoulder and eased down onto a nearby bed.

"If you take my arm I will never forgive you," he muttered with theatrically serious face. 

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Of course, like most men she treated he objected. Malou looked up at his young face and noticed the look he was giving her. Oddly (she blamed her exhausted state of mind) it made want to giggle, but as a professional she managed to keep a straight face, more than that even, she managed to look calm and reassuring as if nothing had even rippled the surface of her healer's mask.

Slowly they made it through the doors, each step Malou watched for any wobble any indication he might fall down. He managed although his grew wan and he seemed to slow more with each step. Malou turned her attention to the hall but it had been a slow afternoon and the nurses were in other rooms doing various tasks. Finally they reach the door which opened for them with a wave of Malou's wand and then they were inside and Malou was gently easing him onto the bed. She should never have allowed him to walk, she scolded herself.

She stepped back to observe him only to find him glaring. "There should be no reason to." She reassured him, she'd reaffixed plenty of splich wounds over the years. It was easy to reaffix than to grow, but neither was truly a danger to the arm. Granted had he not come in for a few days then he might have lost his arm, but she had seen no sign of infection.

"One moment." Malou stepped outside the room to find a nurse and give hurried directions then she returned to the boy. "Here." She held out a small cup of potion for him to drink down, it would cut down on the pain. "Let me know when your shoulder starts to go numb." Malou instructed, tying an apron on over her healing robes and watching him with her owl like eyes.

  

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The events that ensued after Faustus had seen to it that Dorset be taken to the hospital under another auror's supervision made him glad that Dorset had not been there. While they'd apprehended many a criminal with less trouble, Faustus had wanted to see to the man's incarceration himself, and had gone down to handle the paperwork. The steady exhaustion that had worked its way into his expression had only eased slightly with the knowledge that they had found the man and he would be properly punished. The man had known it too and done the stupid thing to try to escape. While not necessarily the most alarming thing in the world, Faustus was embarrassed to admit it had caught him off guard as the man had practically burst awake and attempted to lash out at anyone who came near. With no wand on his person, he had only been able to flail his feet wildly around and managed to deliver a rather sturdy kick to Faustus' ribs. He had been dealt many a kick to the side, so Faustus hadn't been too alarmed by the soft crack! that emitted from his ribcage as the foot connected with him, but he knew it would warrant being seen to by someone. It was by no means an ideal situation, but it gave Faustus the excuse to immediately stun the man perhaps a bit too well and the man fell to the floor like a puppet whose strings had just been cut.

With the excitement over, Faustus managed to process the man without any further hindrances — unconscious men were rather easy to deal with, and Faustus would kick himself for the next few days at letting someone revive him in the first place. It was only when he mentioned he had heard something crack and was headed to the hospital that someone had told him it was just as well because Dorset had been left alone there. Had he not been so elated at finally having the Florist Potts' shop attacker in custody, Faustus would have glowered, wondering why in Merlin's name Dorset was left at the hospital alone.

There really was nothing to it but to head to St. Mungo's, and Faustus soon arrived there ignoring the protest his ribcage was putting up. Cracked ribs weren't much to panic about, and he'd dealt with many a worse injury. After making a few inquiries, the head auror realized Dorset had made his way to the Spell Damage Unit, and suddenly there was someone else at the forefront of his mind other than the young police constable. As he walked through the halls to the Spell Damage unit, Faustus reminded himself of who exactly he was here to see — well, first to get his ribs taken care of, and then to see that Dorset had been seen to properly. Though if Miss Skovgaard was on duty, there was not a single doubt in his mind that the constable would be taken care of.

As he rounded the corner he heard two familiar voices fading off in the distance and knew his instincts had been right. Walking slowly so as to both let Miss Skovgaard get on with her ministrations and to keep his own injury from being exacerbated, Faustus made his way toward the wide wooden doors he'd just them disappear into. The sound of someone calling his name diverted him and he was suddenly faced with an old healer friend whose expert eye caught him trying to sneak away unattended to. The obligation to chat (and be healed) kept Faustus only briefly, given his excuse that he needed to check on another patient who had been admitted just before him, and with his ribs feeling much better, if only slightly bruised, he made his way to the room he'd just seen a familiar face disappear into.

He strolled up to the doorway and let the frame take his weight as he leaned against it, observing the two. Dorset was looking properly worried — not to mention pale — and eyeing Miss Skovgaard with the utmost caution, as if she'd just told him he would have to have a limb removed while Miss Skovgaard, though her back was to him, he knew would be sporting a calmly stern expression and likely looked like she wouldn't have even dreamed of delivering to him any such diagnosis. The scene caused him to chuckle softly. "There's no need to look so worried, Dorset." He said finally, looking to the patient, but not before letting his eyes linger for the briefest of moments on the healer. "You're in good hands."

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pretties by mj

Something told him the joke hadn't quite landed.  He couldn’t be sure since she seemed to be quite serious, which honestly was what you'd want in a healer who was in charge of putting your am back on right.  Until now it hadn’t occurred to him that there might be long term consequences to his actions but now that he thought about it…it would suck to lose his arm.  Would he still be able to be a constable?  Would he have to go back to watchmaking?  And what would he do about all his left sleeves??

Luckily she returned before he could carry that thought much further.  Accepting the little cup, he tossed it back like a champion and definitely not like it was a shot of something much more recreational.  He eyed her warily as she donned the apron, unable to stop his brain from likening  it to a butcher's apron.  If she pulled out a cleaver next he'd make a break for the door…

A voice from the door pulled his attention away from what was sure to be a bloody fate.  He was surprised to see the Head Auror there but it was a perfectly timed distraction from his irrational thought process.  "I've already had one person try and take it off today… doesn't hurt to make sure it won't be two." he managed a weak smirk and a shrug.  His face shifted to placid surprise when the rise and fall of his shoulders didn’t send agony radiating down his arm.  "Oh!  I think it's working." 

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There was a chuckle behind her and then a voice - Malou froze her stomach lunging upward in recognition. She knew that voice, the deep easy going nature of it, could picture the gentleman standing there, his thick hair and blue eyes. Malou's eyes watched the boy in front of her, he too seemed to know the voice. At least she wouldn't have to distract him from the pain until the potion worked.

Slowly Malou turned toward Mr. Prewett, her cheeks a light pink at his compliment. She nodded her head in greeting, "Mr. Prewett." Her eyes met his, they were playful as he leaned there looking relaxed. But worry knotted her stomach, if he were in the hospital surely that meant he had been hurt. She was sure the concern shown plain in her eyes as she looked him up and down for injury then met his eyes again as they asked the question for her. Was he harmed?

Thankfully the boy distracted her, and trying to ignore the weight of Mr. Prewett's eyes on her back to her patient and took a few steps toward him. Her eyes scanned the bone which seemed intact but the skin and muscle would be another issue. "Good. Now, if you'll hold still.." She brought out her wand, careful to keep her gaze gentle as her mind ran through the spells she could use. It would be a slow process, but she should be able to knit the muscle back, then there would be a charm for the skin. He'd lost a lot of blood so he'd need a potion for that once his blood wouldn't leak out of the wound any further.

She had thought she might be nervous healing in front of Mr. Prewett, but as with at the resort her mind slipped into healer mode and was simply grateful that he could speak to the boy while she let her mind solve this. She looked over at the boy with reassuring smile, "This may tickle." She warned before murmuring the spell and tapping the edges of either side of the wound.

  

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Faustus laughed again at Dorset's quip, watching as realization dawned on the young man's face as he realized the potion had begun to take effect. He nodded, as if confirming his previous statement about the competence of Miss Skovgaard. Speaking of whom... Faustus drew his gaze back to hers and inclined his head in greeting. "Miss Skovgaard." He grinned at her. She looked well - in her element, with that tell-tale blush splashed across her cheeks as she worked. Whether that had been there before he arrived or had just appeared, he didn't know, but when her eyes had landed on him, he could see the wheels in her head start to turn immediately as she gave him a quick once over.

Faustus almost regretted stepping in - he hadn't wanted to distract her from her current duty, but he could see the slight crinkle appear in her forehead as she tried to assess if he was injured. Hopefully his relaxed stance would do much to placate whatever worries she had. But she turned away from him after greeting him, her attention back on Dorset, and he felt himself release the need to assure her he was alright. As long as he didn't collapse on the floor behind her, she would focus on the one who needed the attention.

"He tried to do more than that after you left." He replied to Dorset after Miss Skovgaard had delivered her warning before mending his shoulder. "But we retained him, fortunately. That he didn't have a wand was fortunate for us, but he managed to put up an..interesting fight." The vision of the culprit flailing about wasn't exactly the most formidable, but the hard kick he'd managed to land on Faustus certainly sobered the head auror's views on the matter.

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pretties by mj

Jack had just a moment to feel gratified that the man had caused more trouble.  He could already hear the hordes of authority figures lecturing him on what a foolish injury it was but if the man was busy causing more trouble maybe people would soon forget that Jack had nearly gotten his own arm ripped off.  The tap of her wand on his butchered skin paled in comparison to whatever hellish thing the spell proceeded to do to his joint.  It snatched the breath from his lungs as he gritted his teeth, his brow furrowed in pained alarm.  It didn't hurt quite like the initial injury, probably thanks to the shot he'd knocked back, but it absolutely didn’t feel good.  And what was worse - he could feel everything drawing together, back into place.  It was unsettling in a very visceral way and Jack was glad he'd already resolved not to look at his arm because he couldn't imagine what that must look like.

He bit back every curse that came to mind, unsure if it was the presence of the lady or the Head Auror that kept him on his best behavior.  Once it felt like the mending was slowing to a halt he took a deep, shaky breath as if he could breathe again for the first time "… I don't think you know what a tickle is." he muttered, half to himself. 

"Any chance he confessed?"  he added hopefully, glancing past her to the auror standing by the door. 

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Malou's attention stayed on the young man's arm as the two discussed, but at Mr. Prewett's mention of trouble from the culprit she glanced over at him. His solemn face grew worried once again, but she could not spare the attention from her patient at the moment. She'd press Mr. Prewett for details just as soon as she was done with the young man. Quick as she had looked over her eyes were on the wound again.

The muscles were knitting together again as the boy hissed that she didn't know what a tickle was. Her eyes glanced up at him apoligetically, "It will be over soon." Her quiet voice assured him before she got to work on the skin itself. She'd need to give him a potion to rejuivinate his blood as well, how he had not passed out from blood lose she was entirely unsure. Where was the nurse with the potion? Surely they'd be along shortly, Malou assured herself as she kept at her task.

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   Jack Dorset

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Faustus frowned at Dorset's question. Here was where the more difficult part came in. "No, not necessarily." He said grimly, his posture stiffening as he thought back to the troubling things the man had said. "Rather he said some rather accusatory things that gave us cause for alarm enough to be able to hold him without any further trouble." At this, he glanced at Miss Skovgaard. She'd said she hadn't seen anyone come in with injuries, but that didn't mean she wasn't among the list of women he'd said had rejected him. He'd seen her worried glance at him again and fought with potentially telling her about what had happened, but they had already moved on from the subject, with Dorset asking more questions.

No, he'd wait until a more appropriate time.

"I'm glad we'll be detaining him longer -" Faustus paused as he sensed someone behind him, and took his weight off the door to turn to see who it was. The sight of a nurse with a vial of what looked like some sort of potion saw him rotate slightly to let them into the room. "Once you're done here, you should get some rest, Dorset."

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pretties by mj

Jack was aware enough to be disappointed the man hadn't confessed but only just.  The unearthly horror of his shoulder being drawn back together was still unavoidably distracting but it was starting feel like he was in a fog.  His head felt thick and he was more and more aware of how heavy his limbs were, even as he laid there in bed. 

"Good you have 'im" he murmured distantly, as someone else entered the room.  He didn’t look at them, it was very quickly becoming all he could do to keep his eyes open.  "Right, rest.  You got it, Chief."

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