ext_162034 (![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png)
marthajonesmd.livejournal.com) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
shifted_logs2009-01-22 10:23 am
marthajonesmd.livejournal.com) wrote in shifted_logs2009-01-22 10:23 am
Entry tags:
(no subject)
Characters: Martha (![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
marthajonesmd) and Owen (twatular)
Time: Just after Martha got shot by Lucy in this entry here
Location: Martha's little makeshift clinic-y area by the Astral Kitchen
Summary: Martha got shot! And...she decided to ask the only proper doctor she knows for help, even though he hasn't technically met her yet in his timeline, whoops.
Warning: Dude, gunshot wounds are not happy things. Also, there's Owen, so I'm going to stick in a warning for language.
Martha's definitely had better days. Or weeks, or...possibly months. She's curled into a ball on the cot she brought to the Plane so long ago, pressing an entire sheet to her stomach in an attempt to stem the flow of blood. She'd barely managed to send a message to Owen, and now she's hoping he'll come - though she's not sure anything will change, she just wants someone there. And, okay, maybe Owen isn't the best choice, not with his bedside manner (or lack thereof), but she doesn't know who else to ask. She takes one of the syringes of anaesthetic, filling it with trembling hands, and plunges it into her abdomen, hoping to block some of the pain.
And she waits, feeling her life seeping out through the broken veins with every heartbeat.
marthajonesmd) and Owen (twatular)Time: Just after Martha got shot by Lucy in this entry here
Location: Martha's little makeshift clinic-y area by the Astral Kitchen
Summary: Martha got shot! And...she decided to ask the only proper doctor she knows for help, even though he hasn't technically met her yet in his timeline, whoops.
Warning: Dude, gunshot wounds are not happy things. Also, there's Owen, so I'm going to stick in a warning for language.
Martha's definitely had better days. Or weeks, or...possibly months. She's curled into a ball on the cot she brought to the Plane so long ago, pressing an entire sheet to her stomach in an attempt to stem the flow of blood. She'd barely managed to send a message to Owen, and now she's hoping he'll come - though she's not sure anything will change, she just wants someone there. And, okay, maybe Owen isn't the best choice, not with his bedside manner (or lack thereof), but she doesn't know who else to ask. She takes one of the syringes of anaesthetic, filling it with trembling hands, and plunges it into her abdomen, hoping to block some of the pain.
And she waits, feeling her life seeping out through the broken veins with every heartbeat.