2011 06 21: Patched Up

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Mission report found.

Mission Name: Patched Up
Date of Mission: June 21, 2011
Locale: Tamara's Apartment

Tamara calls on Ashley to do a bit of first aid.


Ashley Tamara

Once Tamara was sure the building was clear, she limped back to her place and called the only person she could think of who might be able to help her before she bleeds out all over the apartment. So she called Ashley - leaving a message, if necessary - and then grabbed a bottle of vodka from the freezer and settled down to wait, hoping he'd actually show up. She sits now in one of the dining room chairs, full on facing the door, which has been left slightly ajar. Her gun is very near at hand, but kept just out of sight. Then again, lord only knows what the neighbours think by now. She's going to have a hell of a time explaining if the NYPD ever show up, so she's really hoping they don't.

It takes Ashley about an hour to show up, but he does. And he must know something's up, because he brings an old fashioned medical bag. He doesn't bother to knock at the door, instead just coming in and looking… worried. The older man looks worried at Tamara when he spots her, his eyes widening. "Christ. What did you get yourself into?" He asks her, kicking the door shut behind him in a surprisingly powerful show of force. He moves over to her at the kitchen table and pulls one of the other chairs underneath her bad leg before moving the table to the side in order to get a better look at it. There's a wince from the man. He takes his jacket off and starts rolling his sleeves up, but not before turning a few more lights on her. "Why didn't you go to the hospital, Tamara? You've lost a lot of blood here. We're talking transfusions."

"I'm beginning to wonder that myself," Tamara replies with a grim smile, when he asks what she's gotten into. The smile is quick to turn into a wince when he moves her leg, but she doesn't complain or try to resist. She just picks up the bottle of vodka, taking another swig to help dull the pain. It may not be doctor-recommended, but it does the trick. "Hospital isn't a good idea. I called you," she points out, having some faith in his ability to patch her up. Certainly more than she does in the one black market surgeon she knows in this town. "I just need to be able to walk on it." She has things to do, people to kill…

"You're in luck. It looks like a massive flesh wound. An inch to the right and you might be missing a kneecap," Ashley says rather grimly as he opens up his medical bag and pulls on a pair of gloves, then removes a few alcohol pads, beginning to swab her leg down and clean up the blood. "No good. It's still oozing…" He applies pressure to it, finally turning his eyes towards hers. He monitors her coloring as he tries to stop the blood flow. "I'm not sure if I want to know what happened here or not, but I'm willing to bet that if you're not going to go to the hospital, you've no intention of calling the police." And from the tone of his voice, this seems to frustrate him to no end.

Tamara grimaces again at the burn of alcohol on her tender leg, but she still makes no sound of complaint, just holding the leg as steady as she can. She meets his gaze, her manicured eyebrows arching, wondering if she's going to have some challenge in staying out of the hospital. Her colouring is pale, but at least she was applying pressure during the time before he got here, and thus is still conscious. She's also clearly a bit drunk, if the bottle of booze didn't tip him off to that already. "No hospitals, no police. No ambulance, no fire truck. Just you. Okay?" She does pick up on his frustration, but she doesn't exactly have the luxury of being flexible here. "And no, you don't want to know."

Ashley doesn't seem to know what to say for a few minutes and so he stays silent, letting his gaze wander back down to Tamara's leg. Once the blood has finally stopped running so heavily, he grabs a pair of long tweezers from his bag and works on getting all the buckshot out. He puts the pieces on her kitchen table in lieu of an old fashioned bed pan like they used to in the old days, gently tilting her leg this way and that way. He is rather tender. It seems he's mindful of her pain. And apparently, if she can be tight-lipped, so he can, because he doesn't say anything to her as he pulls the bullet shards from her wounded leg. "Tamara…" He finally starts, then trails off.

Tamara is no doubt grateful for his gentleness, although it still hurts like a son of a bitch, of course. For awhile, her silence is equal parts not wanting to get into it and just trying to breathe through the pain. It clearly isn't the first time something like this has happened, though, since she's taking it all rather well, all things considered. It's only when he speaks up that she lets out a sigh. "I know," she replies quietly. For a beat, it seems like that's all he's going to get. "But it's complicated."

After Ashley is relatively satisfied that he's gotten most of the metal out of her leg, he sets to stitching her up. "It's going to leave a scar, I can tell you that right now." He looks up at Tamara and shakes his head. "You're letting me stay here with you tonight or you're coming home with me. Either or. No ifs, ands, or buts. I realize that whatever you've gotten yourself into, you're just trying to protect me…" He trails off once more. "I just… you're the closest thing I've had to a friend in ages, Tamara. I need for you to be safe somehow." He's managed to keep sewing with amazing precision as he glances at her. At least, she doesn't look like the Bride of Frankenstein when he's done.

"That's what plastic surgery is for, my dear," Tamara replies, watching with a grim sort of fascination as he stitches her up. She's not squeamish, at least. She regards him for a long moment before giving a small nod. "Your place then. Once I can walk," she concedes without putting up a fight. She reaches out like she's going to brush his cheek, but stops when she realizes her hand is covered with drying blood. Smearing that on his face is not quite the gesture she means to make here. "I'm not much of a friend. But thank you."

"You're not going to be able to walk for a few days and that's not really what I have in mind," Ashley informs her briskly. "I'd offer to carry you down to my car but I don't think I have the strength, to be quite honest. Let me stay here tonight. I'm assuming that judging from the trail of blood down the stairs that not all of this is yours and you have some knowledge of self-defense, so we're totally helpless. I'm going to have to carry you to bed." Ash adds as an afterthought, "Tomorrow I'll bring you a crutch and we'll get you out of here. I can help you pack too."

Tamara gives him a long look, almost amused at his briskness. "Mm. How romantic," she says in a level tone when he speaks of carrying her to bed. She's not really making fun so much as trying to lighten the mood. It's just a flesh wound, after all. After a moment, she shrugs, conceding again - it's unlike her to give in so easily, but she's tired, in pain and a bit drunk, so going with the flow just seems so much easier. "Stay if you want to stay. Do you know how to use a gun?"

He ties his stitches off and leans down to kiss her knee before pretending like the kiss never happened and standing back up, closing his medical supplies. He takes his gloves off and tosses them, along with the bullet bits and alcohol pads into a nearby waste basket before he reaches out and gives Tamara no warning, cradling her in his arms. He's not exactly a weakling, but he's also not a bodybuilder. He does lift her weight easily though and carry her into the bedroom. "Just for a day or two while that bullet hole mends. There could be a lot of potential for stitch ripping in that area. Sorry." He pauses. "And no, I don't know how to use a gun. I could probably stab someone with a scalpel if I had to."

Tamara can't help but give a little smile when he kisses her knee, but then she catches herself and is almost annoyed. Don't get girly, T. You're in the middle of serious shit, here. Before she knows it, she's scooped up in his arms, giving a little laugh in her surprise at the gesture - even if he told her he was going to do just that. "Why are you apologizing? You aren't the one who shot me," she points out calmly as she drapes a slender arm about his shoulders. "I could show you. How to use a gun. It's pretty much just point and shoot," she says, amusing herself with that.

"I'm a non-violent man. I like to keep it that way." Ashley says simply. "Maybe sometime though. I guess we do live in New York and if a mugger happens to corner me someday unawares… he's not really going to go care how many of his friends I've scraped off the sidewalk." He carries Tamara into her bedroom and sets her on the bed, wiping a bead of sweat from his brow before he leans away. "I imagine that you might want to get undressed and get comfortable, so I'm going to just… go clean up out in the living room. I'll be back in in a few minutes." Ash starts to edge for the door.

"I'd like to keep you that way too," Tamara replies quietly before shrugging. "But we have to be realistic. It's better to know how to defend yourself." She settles back onto the bed once he sets her down, using her arms to shift until she finds a position where her leg hurts a little bit less. "Ashley?" she calls after him as he begins to slip away. "Thank you. For… Well, for everything, I guess." She isn't really the overly sentimental sort, but the thanks are sincere, just the same. Then she's already beginning to pull off various items of clothing without giving him much warning this time.

Ashley is a man and not a zen-like monk. His eyes linger on Tamara's undressing before he ducks out of the room with a nod. "You're welcome," he says from the other side of the slightly ajar door. "I'll be back in a bit…" He says to her, perhaps to make sure that she's totally finished changing clothes by the time he gets back. He shuts the door all the way and heads down the hallway, taking a few deep breaths when he gets to the living room. He wonders for the umpteenth time just what in the Hell he's gotten himself into with this woman.


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