Call Upon the Doctor

There were days that Hannibal regretted getting involved with the Rippers, for the greater good and the family or not. Yes, he was more than passable at his role of Alienist for the group, none of them suspected that he was a magic user. And yet there were still days like this, he reflected as he leaned on the young man that walked him to the lady doctor’s door.

He really needed to find a physician who he could call upon regardless of the hour. Too many of the Rippers insisted on their missions occurring under the dark cover of night, when the good people of London were asleep in their beds.

Would that he join them each night as was his wont.

Instead, Hannibal grunted quietly as the young man helping him along shifted his weight, causing no small amount of pain in his shoulder. The gash wasn’t really all that bad, it was the fact that he’d had to wait till morning before he could have it looked at that was the problem, meaning that his ‘friends’ amongst the Rippers had left him to bleed until he could be taken in to a doctor.

It hadn’t been his choice to come here, but this was the closest place and one of the men’s wives had recommended that Dr. Smith would likely say little about the oddness of the wound or the fact that Hannibal still didn’t have a very viable story about how he’d come about getting it. Generally, he’d found that just making growling sounds and showing his ire often kept doctors from asking too many questions which would necessitate lies in order to answer.

So it was that young Mr. Jefferies dragged Hannibal into an office he’d yet to step foot into prior, asking for Doctor Smith, if she were available at the moment.

Celeste had...odd visiting hours at her surgery; she kept her hours to make her available to her regular patients, which meant she was open mostly early evening and before daybreak when the theaters and those that performed there emptied.

Which is why when her bell rang at what would be considered normal hours...Celeste was a few short hours in bed, and her household was its self only partially awake.

Which lead Hannibal and his escort to be greeted by her ‘butler’ or really the man of work as her household was not so great, only herself and the family of 5 who had come with her from India who had been part of her father’s servents and had known her since she was a child.

“May we help you?” Came the only slightly accented proper English, his white uniform was standard colonial garb for servants but it was a touch out of place in drab London. Even in the middle of summer.

“Prob’ly not.” The words were softened by the very obvious pain the man was in, even as he managed to frown at his companion, who sighed almost as though it was only because he was expected to find Hannibal’s poor manners frustrating.

“We were told that there is a doctor here? My friend has been injured, he needs help.” Hannibal looked at the servant, his eyes more gentle than his demeanor might otherwise suggest. “If not, maybe you know of one nearby that could-“ Jeffries shifted again and Hannibal yelped as he moved, “You could be bloody careful! It’s your fault this even happened!” To say he was annoyed at the young Ripper was an understatement; honestly, Hannibal should have let him take the blow, one less of the hunters would have meant his family was safer. But Jeffries was a good man, if a bit zealous and uneducated, and Hannibal wasn’t the sort of monster that the Rippers thought his mind to be.

“I don’t want t’be a bother.”

Gupta opened his mouth to turn them away, not only was his mistress still sleeping, but they were almost certainly police bait, and that was trouble this family did not need.

Except there was more to him than met the eye, Gupta was a sensitive, unable to touch the flows of magic but able to see them, and not blinded to some like the elemental mages of his mistress's family.

Which is why he recognized what Hannibal was simply from his passive defenses. And also was experienced enough to read them for what they were- passive. This was unlikely to be someone hunting his mistress but it could be a potential ally for her in this inhospitable city.

“Dr. Smith’s normal consulting hours are from 4pm-10 and than from 2am till 4 every other day.” He recited moving back so they could enter the parlor that had been converted into a waiting room. “I will see if they doctor has time for an emergency.”

Less than ten minutes later, a tried and honestly honestly only half put together Celeste opened an adjoining door that lead into the old study now converted into her office/examination room.

“Get him up on the table please.” She ordered, black skirts swishing briskly “normally I would refer you to the hospital Mr. Cain.” She commented coolly Professional as she sprayed her hands with a diluted carbolic acid solution.

“Those are odd hours for a doctor,” Jeffries just had to go and try to swallow his foot. Hannibal shuffled slightly, his foot landing almost as though on purpose, directly on Jeffries’ heel, dragging hard along the man’s calf while it was at it.

They’d made him wait. He’d told them that she’d be there and perhaps even willing to see him, but they’d insisted upon propriety. If they’d listened, he might be in his bed by now! He didn’t know what made the man decide to wake his mistress, but Hannibal offered him a smile nonetheless. Kind people were rare, it was best to keep the few you did meet that way.

Ten minutes more, and Hannibal was managing to smile at the doctor he was beginning to think he should see about getting to know better. She was competent, and her hours for his extracurricular schedule far better than any other doctor would. “And normally I would be abed at this hour, Dr. Smith. But it’s so lovely to see you again.” He chuckled quietly, “Though I’d prefer better circumstances.”

“I need you to take off your shirt Mr. Cain.” She was a Doctor but he wasn’t insensible and was capable of disrobing on his own, If painfully. Her magic whispered that he wasn’t in danger of bleeding out and the wound was already several hours old, and since he Came with his own helper she didn’t need to call her Gupta or his son to help him.

While Celeste waited for his wound to be revealed to natural sight she wondered at why he choose her doorstep to land on. “I feel I must ask if I should be expecting the police to be following you.”

Hannibal complied with the request, not complaining until his companion tried to help him. That earned the other man a snarl and a very cold “Don’t touch me.” He’d saved the man’s life, but had their roles been reversed, and Jeffries known the truth of what Hannibal was, he knew he would have died tonight. As it was, the wound was painful, and he’d been forced to wait hours before finally seeking treatment.

At her statement, however, Hannibal’s head whipped around so he could meet her eyes, looking almost wounded from the implication. “If they do, it will only be to thank me for not letting this fool here be returned to his family in a box.” Jeffries, for his part, had the good sense to look chastised, “We’ve done no wrong to anyone tonight, Miss. Cain here saved my life tonight, though. I owe him a great deal.”

The wound that Hannibal revealed was long and jagged, not made by a knife, but something still sharp. There were other smaller scrapes and bruises, some newer than others, but the wound in question was smaller but deep. “Oh, don’t worry, I won’t let you forget.” For a moment, Hannibal sounded friendly, bantering with his comrade.

A slim eyebrow fought not to rise at the defensive / offended posturing; clean hands dragged a wet soapy bleached towel around, cleaning it and pulling out a metal probe to check the edges of the wound; her other eye told her that there was some contamination that needed to be removed before she could suture.

“What made this?” A frown touched her mouth as she ran through possible methods; she had not seen many weapon wounds but it didn’t seem near a sword or knife she’d seen.

As defensive as Hannibal had been toward his companion, he was downright docile with Celeste. Even his grumbling died down into nothingness; though he turned to watch her movements the best he could as she tended to the wounds. There were other, smaller cuts and bruises, but the primary concern was the larger, deeper laceration on his upper back and shoulder.

He winced at her question; Hannibal wasn't a dishonest man, he preferred to give the truth when he could, but he didn't want to explain himself, either. His tone was weary when he answered her with the truth, if nowhere near all of the truth, "Glass, doctor. It was broken." He tipped his head slightly, curiosity coloring his tone, "Does it make a difference what made the cut?" Or was she, like him, nearly infinitely curious?

@kel

“It does actually.” She responded.

Celeste’s expression was focused, concentrating on his wound as she carefully cleaned it. Yet if he saw past the distracting spectacles he might see her eyes themselves oddly unfocused. He might even wonder at it.

The explanation was quite simple, Celeste was seeing with two sets of eyes, it was quite the task to reconstruct his muscle while repairing the damage outside so he never noticed she was working magic on him.

Half of what she did as a doctor was misdirection - oh she never used an improper technique, but by the time her magic took hold, the bandages and sutures were mostly for show, the real work already done.

“Wood or glass means I have to do more fishing to make sure it’s clean, if it was a sword or some such than there is less chance of debris in the wound so long as you didn’t roll around London before you got here.” She explained once she had finished suturing and bandaging him up. Far more than he actually required, but that was part of the deception, to keep him from looking.

The rest of his cuts and bruises got a quick once over that included the extraction of a errant sliver of glass, small and easily missed with the larger pains.

“Just about Done.” She proclaimed nearly an hour later.

@eve

The answer he got wasn’t really the one he was expecting. Not that he thought she’d ask a useless question; she was far too straightforward and focused to do something like that from all that he’d seen of her, but she didn’t just give the simple answer, she expounded for him.

Instead of whimpering and whining about the pain as she fished the pieces and slivers of broken glass out of him, he paid attention as she spoke, allowing her voice and words to draw him out of himself, giving him something else to focus on and all but forget about the pain. He remained quiet, pliant under her ministrations as she worked and explained, “Well then it was unfortunate for me that it was glass. Who would have thought a sword was better than glass?” He wasn’t being sulky; his tone was filled with wonder at the facts she gave, and thoughtfulness as he considered how to better avoid these sorts of situations moving forward.

For an hour, Hannibal sat, most quiet, making small comments here and there both to occupy himself and to try to take any tension lingering in the room away. Jefferies was young, younger than Hannibal by a handful of years, he hadn’t meant to cause Hannibal harm. And even if that fact might have changed if he knew what Hannibal really was, it was hard to hate the young man for it when he’d been so concerned and apologetic for the whole mess. When Celeste stated she was almost done, Hannibal bent his head forward, exhaustion finally beginning to truly show. His voice was soft, meant for the doctor and not his companion, when he spoke again, “Thank you. I’m terribly sorry for taking you away from your rest.”

@kel

Celeste was a small woman, tiny actually, barely reaching his lapel with the top of her practically styled hair; yet in this moment she extruded a quite commanding competence. Which was rather all to the good as it spoke to her comfort in the task she was performing, not routine for her but her magic made up for any concerns she might have had other wise for the unfamiliar work of repairing violence of this scale.

Her patient at least was pliant and not prone to swear or show temper at the time or pain, which truly helped. By the last Stich Celeste was relaxed enough that her hand reached to support him, pressing against his unbandaged shoulder, fingers against warm naked flesh.

Dark eyes flicked up to his in what shouldn’t have been shock- she’d been touching him, sewing him up, her smock was dabbed with his blood- yet that one touch-

...Sha...

The voice, not memory, reverberated through her being for one long harmonious moment-

Celeste’s power rippled outwards and the earth gave one slow roll.

Shelves, glass wear and chairs toppled, the tiny quake was gone as quickly as it Came.

@eve

Hannibal might be a nobleman, but he was neither a coward nor was he weak. He sat still under the doctor’s ministrations, calm and patient, letting her sew him back together. He didn’t question her knowledge or skill; perhaps it had been her concern for her own injury when they’d met, even concussed, she had had the wherewithal to question herself and to take care. Hannibal respected that, respected the lady in question for it.

He might not have complained of the pain, but he still felt it. When she reached to support and comfort him, he was tense. That simple touch, however, quieted that tension and Hannibal relaxed, leaning minutely into the comfort of the doctor’s warmth. He couldn’t have said why, though. Why this touch was welcome where most were not wasn’t a question for him, not in that moment.

Even as he relaxed against her fingers, there was a sudden surge in the world, an earthquake however small rocking through room. The younger man with Hannibal yelped and jerked to alertness, all but bristling with paranoia as he darted toward a window to peer outside, “You don’t think…. Cain..”

Hannibal frowned at Jefferies, his eyes alert but far calmer than his companion’s, “Pull yourself together. And don’t jump to conclusions.” He was so young, so prone to make assumptions that could get innocent people hurt.

Quieter, Hannibal met Celeste’s eyes, concern evident in his gaze, “Are you alright, Doctor? None the worse for wear after that...upset?” He’d help clean the mess, both that of his own making as well as picking up what had fallen due to the shaking of the ground. She could have turned him away, might have been smart to do so, considering what he’d looked like, but she had helped him instead. He wouldn’t forget her kindness any more that he would her skill.

@kel

Tellingly Clara didn’t flinch from the rolling earth, she did however jerk back from the falling jars, one of which fell on her outstretched hand, shattering on the table, spilling cotton scraps and slivers of glass over her naked palm when she missed catching it.

Clara gasped, holding her wrist reflexively, eyes watering at the sudden sharp unexpected pain. “A bit.” Worse for wear that was. She managed blinking back tears.

@eve

Celeste didn’t flinch, but neither did Hannibal. Acting on instinct alone, Hannibal stood, moving to brace himself between the worst of the falling debris and the good doctor, a move reminiscent to how he had been injured in the first place. His magic whirled out from him, invisible and harmless, brushing away the worst of the debris from himself and the doctor, keeping them (mostly) safe.

He missed one of the jars, though, a shock of guilt jolting through him as he saw her hand; for all his power, he was unable to keep a good, sweet doctor who had been kind enough to heal him up in her off hours, safe from some falling glass. For all his power, he hadn’t managed to keep himself from being sliced open while keeping Jefferies alive, and while he was responsible for neither situation, it still troubled him. “My most heartfelt apologies, Doctor.” He winced as he looked at her holding her wrist, “Is there anything at all I can do? Any help I can provide?” Her people were probably far more capable of assisting her with this than he would be, but he wouldn’t not offer any help he could give. Even if it were going about to fetch her whatever she needed, or the very people he knew would likely be more helpful in the moment. She was in pain, and she had helped him, it was only right to at least offer, genuinely, to assist her in return. Never mind that he found himself concerned for her wellbeing and happiness, even if he had no idea why.

[i]”Cain, we should-” Hannibal eyed Jefferies, “If you have somewhere to be, then by all means, be there, Jefferies. I’m fairly certain I remember my way home.” He shooed the younger man toward the door, “And if you see the good couple that let us in, perhaps you could send them this way?” The question was asked toward Jefferies, but Hannibal’s gaze was on Celeste, seeking her agreement to the idea before simply sending the man out.

@kel