2007-04-10: Outbreak: Quarantine


Bekah_icon.gif Illusion_icon.gif Elena_icon.gifEvelyn_icon.gif Jack_icon.gif Peter_icon.gif Viola_icon.gif Yael_icon.gif

Summary: One group of heroes is ushered into Radiology. Everybody needs to get cozy, but they don't have to like it. Peter picks up a few new tricks.

Date It Happened: April 10, 2007

Outbreak: Quarantine

Mount Sinai Radiology

Continued from Outbreak

"…what?" Peter asks, looking over at Elena in surprise as he allows her to pull him away for a moment. "But— that's…" Something she says seems to have made him suddenly pale as well, and as they're asked to separate, he glances towards his brother and squints for a long moment, trying to send him a single thought before he gets pulled off into Radiology.

Damn. The not-nurse seems to have been roped in to helping control some of this chaos. That's all right. If something's happening that's big enough to lock down Mount Sinai, she needs to know. Candice always needs to know. "All right, everybody," she says with an more compassionate sort of air than the nurse in the other room. "This way, please." She gently guides people to Radiology, flashing smiles as she brings up the rear. Everything's fine. Really. …What the hell is going on?

Frowning at the nurses doing round up, Viola keeps her arms folded, but follows the small group of people, turning on her heel to do so. As she does so, she finds herself close to Candice. "What exactly is going on, nurse? No one will answer my questions and it's starting to get a little frustrating, as I'm sure you could guess."

Though Jack doesn't look thrilled at being moved to Radiology, it's probably because he's a bastard more than any inherent dislike of the scenery. He frowns at Yael. "She was too floating," he pouts as he rubs at his thwacked arm. Still, there's little chance of proving it now. Still working to distract himself from his claustrophobia, he shrugs and flags down Nurse Betty. "Uh. Yeah. I don't give a toss if you ladies piss or go fishing, as long as somebody stitches up my friend." Despite his words, his tone is low and respectful. "Please? Be careful, though. She's pretty spicy. You handy with a needle and thread?"

Still glancing back towards the door, Peter is exceptionally concerned about his brother being shuffled off to another area, but there's little he can do about that. Because of this, when the teen next to him makes the comment on the drink, he murmurs absently, without thought, "…Could really use one right now." It's so subconscious he almost doesn't notice the can of V8 suddenly appearing in his hand as he sits down. He doesn't notice it until he almost drops it, actually juggling it for an instant. Wait, what? If Jack hadn't shown him his ability once already, he'd be confused a lot longer than he is. But still… quarantine. Exposed. Tested. He knows asking questions might be useless, so he just opens his conveniently gained can of V8 and takes a drink. Maybe he should have thought about alcohol.

Candice might be wishing she had chosen a different disguise right about now. All the same, she shoots Viola a look. Or she would if Evelyn hadn't just knocked into her. Or she walked into her. It's no matter. Candice puts her hands on the girl's shoulders and steers her ahead. "This is important, dear. We need to get inside and stay put and wait to be cleared. I don't make the rules," unfortunately, "but we have to play by them. Besides, if you haven't been exposed, going out there might expose you to whatever it is." Now she raises her voice a bit to address the group, still in gentle tones. "Everybody stay calm. We're all going to be fine." Her eyes sweep the room slowly, but they linger on Peter. Damn.

Hmph. Viola doesn't really think much about the idea of this quarantine and it shows on her face. Nor does she really want to 'make friends' with anyone in this room. Though Jack certainly looks familiar if she's really forced to talk to someone. She'll keep her arms crossed, lean against the wall and count down the moments till she can get the hell out of her. "Hmph."

When Peter sits down, Elena remains standing, looking over at Nurse Betty and crossing her arms over her chest. She's frowning outright, patting at her scrubs for a moment. She….doesn't -feel- sick. "If they don't know what we were exposed to, how are they going to test us for it?" she mutters towards Peter. She's going to hope the staff knows what to look for. But when Peter suddenly jerks around and fumbles for the V8, she blinks at him. "….where'd you get that?" she wonders, confused. After a pause, she glances at Jack within earshot and gets it. She drops on a seat next to Peter, dragging out her cellphone and turning around so she could fire a quick text to her father.

Unfortunately, Jack isn't about to make this easy. Being confrontational comes naturally to him, after all. He waits for a full three seconds before responding, still meeting Nurse Betty's eye squarely. "I think we're as settled as we're going to be while under medical quarantine. Want to do something about the blood gushing out of friend's hand now?" Oh yeah. The quarantine. Another thing that Jack doesn't care about. Hello, he's Irish. Obviously, he's far too robust to catch anything as piddly as a potentially deadly disease. Frowning, he reaches out and gives Yael's shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

Pushed into the room by Candice, Evelyn refuses to go any further than she absolutely has to. She flops herself down on the floor, back against the wall right next to the door, making no attempt to stop her book from landing on the tiles with a soft thud. She shoves her hair back from her face, which is paler even than usual, and closes her eyes.

Whimpering quietly, Yael leans into Jack for a few seconds before she decides that sitting down would be a better option. She's making a point of not looking at her hand. "I feel sick. Is that bad?" She tips her head back against the wall, holding her injured hand elevated with the other. "I hope I don't catch whatever it is. I have a terrible immune system. I don't think I want to die from a virus."

"I said /I/ don't know what it is," the nurse snaps to Elena, having had about enough of the girl's sass. And Jack's, too, for that matter. "Nurse." Betty snaps her fingers several times to get Candice's attention. "See if you can stop her bleeding. I'm going to get some suture wire." With a sneer of frustration, the nurse leaves the room, slamming the door behind her as she goes in search of supplies. Leaving Candice to crowd control AND first aid. Oh, boy!

As Elena settles down beside him, Peter actually holds out the can of V8 that he summoned out of nowhere to her. "Just hope this came from my fridge and not someone else's." It's almost funny, considering the situation. "You take the rest. You said you didn't eat." At least it's vitamins, even if it's not /food/. "I'll take you out to dinner once we're out of here…" He glances over at Jack and his injured friend, looking tempted to help out with that, but knowing that the nurses should have it taken care of. There's something else that bothers him, and he looks towards Elena, frowning lightly. The question he wants to ask, he can't really ask outloud. But when he tries to ask her mentally, it doesn't quite work out that way… oh well.

Candice is an accomplished actress. She's good at what she does. She's good at pretending to be other people. But this? Can she pretend to be a /nurse/? There's a very deer-trapped-in-the-headlights look that comes over her features now. No matter what guise she's in, it's an unfamiliar look for her. She approaches Yael, flashing her a nervous smile. "Let me take a look at that, okay?" That seems the most logical course of action, right?

From her spot against the wall, Viola frowns at the nurse when she gets snippy with Elena. There was no need for /that/. Snagging a chair, she drags it over to her spot and drops into it. "That's ridiculous," she says, the words directed at Candice. "You tell your supervisor about that nurse. It's crazy that we're the ones stuck here and she starts to verbally attack us."

"Jesus. She's a saucy lil' trollop, innitshe?" Jack mutters under his breath and shakes his head at the retreating nurse, then tucks a lock of Yael's hair behind her ear and gives her a quick wink. "Hey. Don't you worry 'bout a thing. Ol' Jackie's gonna keep an eye on you. B'sides, you're not allowed to get sick 'til after dinner, so give us a stiff upper lip." This is good. As long as he gets to keep acting like a busybody, Jack won't have to worry about feeling like he's going to be crushed by sterile walls and filthy strangers. Candice's nervousness causes him to hesitate before he steps out of the way for her, but he moves aside, pausing just long enough to bob a nod to Viola. Jack never forgets a meeting with the fuzz, after all. The sidestep brings him alongside Peter and Elena. He waves, then fixes the young Latina with a grey-eyed glare. "This whole quarantine thing's probably your fault, innit? You have sex with Nearly Male? I knew that bugger had mold in the basement."

-Wow-. What a -bitch-! It was a legitimate question! Elena's eyes narrow and her mouth opens, the fiery temper jumping up to color her cheeks as she prepares herself for a possible verbal throwdown when the woman turns away to…..snap-snap-snap towards Candice. And then, she stares some more. Oh no she di-n't! And overhearing Viola's words, her ire rises even more because….well, the madame was right. "Why that—" she hisses, and Peter distracts her with perfectly wholesome and cool V8 juice. She blinks at the can dangling in front of her, Peter having distracted her enough to focus on two things: A) Her hunger. B) There's some foreign contagion running loose. There's also C) the Look of 'Something Is Bothering Me' on Peter's face. As quick as the temper rises, it is snuffed out instantly. She doesn't have Jack's panache of holding onto the explosive temper and channeling it to do something kickass. Or ever. Instead, she does what he says like a good girl, taking a quiet sip and offering it back to him. "We'll share," she says simply, and then lowers her voice.

After the whisper, she blinks as Uncle Jack walks up. She stands up so she could hug him. Because he's Uncle Jack…..and after what he says, she drops him like a hot Irish potato and plants her hands on her hips. "…..we're being besieged by a ZO-Em-Gee craptastic contagion and you're asking me about my sex life?! Fail, Uncle. …even if Cass would be laughing her butt off right now but still."

Evelyn stays where she is, trying to convince herself she's somewhere she isn't. Folding her arms about her head and drawing up her knees, she pretty much pays no attention to the various questions and snappy answers. Just let her know when she can leave.
Holding her hand out for Candice to look at, Yael turns her head to the side and closes her eyes tightly. She hasn't even attempted to help Candice remove the bloody dishtowel. "Just don't describe it to me," she says, what little colour she had left in her cheeks being stripped away by the very thought of /imagining/ her injury. She makes a face, scrunching her nose. Muttering a foreign curse beneath her breath, she hisses, "It burns."

Nurse Betty? Not back yet. Keep dealing, Candice.

"It's just…" Peter starts a little louder than he probably should, before leaning in close to respond to the whisper. Only he never gets a word out as she stands up with the approach of her uncle. Standing up to join her, he blinks in surprise at what he happens to say. "Think that's a bit on the rude side, considering…" What's he supposed to call him? Uncle Jack? Mr. whateverhislastnamewas. "Listen, I agree she was rude, and there were a lot better ways to handle this, but we need to stay calm. Is anyone else in here injured besides…" He gestures towards the poor woman, "I'm a nurse, I could probably help." There's really no other way to handle this situation. Answering why he's got a worried look will have to wait.

Yael's hand is unwrapped carefully and the pretend nurse does /not/ like what she sees. Candice's head jerks off toward Peter and she ushers him over with a frantic wave of yher hand. "I'm, ah, just interning. I'd like a second opinion."

Viola nods solemnly back to Jack when he acknowledges her. From her chair, she silently watches everyone and listens in. Most of them seem to know each other already, making her at a disadvantage. Not that she really minds. She can interject when she feels like it.

Grinning cheekily, Jack returns Elena's hug with a quick one-armed squeeze. "Sex life? Better be your /lack/ of a sex life, Scrappy. You know you're not allowed to look at boyparts 'til you're thirty." He chucks Peter on the shoulder with one long-fingered hand in a friendly fashion. "Of course it was rude. This is me you're talkin' to, boy-o. Speakin' o' rude, you look like you got ahold of a bottle yesterday and didn't share. You ok?" Knowing that at this point there's little he can do for Yael but remind her she's not alone, the Irishman perches on the arm of her chair and oversees her procedure. Candice's nervousness is definitely making him uncomfortable, but he does his best to conceal the fact from his plucky little Jewish comrade.

"Jack, I'm -Catholic-," she sighs, reminding Jack for the umpteenth time, as if it would lay those irrational fatherly fears of such a thing forever. The latina gives Peter a rueful smile, pulling out her phone and firing another quick text. "That's okay, Peter, I'm used to it," Elena says with a long-suffering groan. She knuckles Jack on the shoulder, and throws him a look. "You're lucky I feel a kind of sort of familial affection for your Irishness, Jack," she grumps, but she does grin at him cheekily afterwards. When Peter is about to respond to her, but is cut off, she exhales, and rakes a hand through her hair. "Do you need any help?" she asks the younger Petrelli, her eyes following where he's looking. She doesn't want to crowd, but Yael looks like she's in pain.

When her phone vibrates, Elena flips it up and peers at it, frowning slightly. She fires off a quick text before shoving it in her pocket yet again.

And the quarantine zone set up is breached by aliens. Or maybe it's just doctors in quarantine suits. Bekah looks to be in quite the wonderful mood as she turns to look over to the even younger doctor beside her. "Want to share what we're looking for here? What would be the clinical signs?" She asks the man as they make their way toward the people. Bekah's eyes scan over them, doing a quick check on how the people here are doing.

Yael has seen better days. Still, she can't help but cover her eyes with her good hand… and then peek through her fingers back at her hand. It's a mistake, once she can see the gash from the knife. She utters another curse beneath her breath. "I was making dinner and the knife slipped," she adds helpfully, for the benefit of the nurses. The injury itself, while deep enough to require stitches and still be bleeding, is most definitely not serious. Not like, say, an /airborne virus./

"Clinical signs. Hantavirus." The younger doctor peers at Bekah for a second, hesitant. "Fever, nausea, back pain, chills, cough, tachychardia. Those are the obvious ones. Then there are the other stages—" Well, at least HE knows what he's talking about, right? "Oliguric phase would involve renal failure. We're not going to see any of those with these people, since they were just exposed, right?"

"Been better, but I'm intact," Peter responds to the older Irish man with a hint of a smile, though his expression remains serious as he moves towards the frantic waving nurse. Even if no one else besides the obviously injured woman looks sick, he might. He's pale, with reddness around his eyes. As the Irish man said, like he hit the bottle and didn't share. They left an intern? Well, that just makes Nurse Betty more inept than he thought. "I'm Peter. What's your name?" If nothing else, at least he has bedside manner, and this would be one thing he's relatively confident in. He glances towards the "nurse", and Elena in case the intern doesn't know and the volenteer does, and asks, "Can fetch some gauze for me?" Despite not being in a uniform, in fact he's still in his coat, he doesn't stop trying to help when a real doctor appears. "How long has it been since you cut yourself?" He actually reaches to press the dishtowel back over the wound, applying pressure.

Gauze? Candice can handle gauze. Just… have to find some. If there's none readily in sight in the room, she'll head for the door. There's got to be a nice, clearly-labeled supply closet. And she has /got/ to get out of this room.

Viola watches the proceedings in the same detached manner from her chair by the wall. There's nothing to comment on or do for now, so she'll just be an observer.

"You can't hate me, no matter how much of a wanker I make of meself. I'm Uncle Jack." As he speaks, he pulls the flask free from his pocket again and uses it in a flourishing salute. Despite his overzealous protection and his snarking, it's clear that there's a great deal of older-brotherly affection between the dried-up Irishman and the saucy little college girl.

Then it happens. Somebody uses the phrase 'renal failure.' Jack might not be a medic, but he's seen Outbreak. A bunch of times. The flask drops from his suddenly slack fingers and falls to the floor with a clatter. He frowns, and there's a tightness around his jaw and eyes. Absently, he answers Peter's question for Yael. "It's been a couple of hours. I had to talk the stubborn wench into comin' down here for a proper fix-up. She wanted to keep bleedin' all over my dinner, but I wouldn't have it."

Mount Sinai's personal Hazmat team arrives. When Elena looks up to look at Bekah and her assistant, she turns a little gray. Oh god. It wasn't a joke. They don't break those things out if it was just nothing. Images dance in her mind, of everyone in the room turning into brain-eating zombies and causing an undead apocalypse all over the Earth. She's also eying Yael's wound with some trepidation. And then she shakes her head to clear out the crack….ugh. She's been hanging around Jaden too much. When Candice leaves to get gauze, she assumes it's handled because ….well. Candice was a nurse. Right? But Peter's more experienced and there's no way she can help now with the way she's blanching at the people in the suits. Even Jack's dropped his flask. She picks it up and hands it absently to Jack.

Bekah give the resident a smile. She has a smart minion tonight! "Good. Glad to see you know what you're doing. If we aren't going to see those symptoms, how will we rule out infection?" She asks again towards the younger man even as she steps towards Yael to peer over Peter's shoulder at the wound before she addresses the room. "I'm Dr. Morgan, and this is Dr. Bora. Please bear with us, and stay in the room. If we need anything else, I'll send for it." She says, looking back to Candice. She looks down to Peter, as he looks like hell but seems to know something about wounds. "Do you have medical training? Or a fever?" She'll cover all the bases.

Evelyn looks up at the sound of the door opening - but it only admits /more/ people. So she doesn't bother to get up. She just sighs and buries her head in her arms again.

The clatter takes Yael by surprise, and she drops her hand away from her face, snapping back to attention to try and find the cause of the noise. She hisses another curse at her friend, but it's mostly her own dislike of blood fueling her frustration now. "Yael," she says to Peter in her accented tone. "I think it might have been two hours, now." Shooting a look to Jack, she adds, "I told you that you would be cranky." Bekah and her assistant are glanced to, but ultimately, she'd like to just pretend none of this is happening.

Uhhhh…" Pausing, the younger doctor looks briefly uncertain, rocking on his heels. "Blood tests?" Since that is, after all, why he was sent down here. Either way, he's preparing some syringes to be used to take samples from the group.

Glancing away from the wound and towards the suits, Peter can't help but blink and look paler than before for an instant. Yes, he was right to worry. "I'm okay," he answers the doctor, starting with the question of his state. "Just exhausted, is all. No fever." He'd had a fever the day before, until it broke finally after a lot of sleep, but no fever now. Just pale, and a little winded. This is really bothering him, though, with good reason. "I was registered as a nurse last year, passed my test in April. Do you mind if I take care of this cut, Dr. Morgan? I'm just going to go clean it over at the sink…" Luckily almost every room in a hospital has sinks, "Then I'll need some gauze to wrap it." He glances towards the syringes, frowning, then looks back towards Elena, some tension showing up on his forehead, as he finally gets a single thought to send towards her, even if it causes a bit of a headache. 'The painting,' he tells her without words.

Candice freezes with her hand just about to push open the door. Damn. After a deep breath, she runs her fingers through the tangle of curls on her head (though the hair barely acts tangled when she does). She settles her gaze on Peter again. Oh crap. He does not look well. And she has a good idea of why. "I, ah, I saw an empty exam room. We're all locked down anyway. Maybe I should get 'Nurse Peter' here to another room?" Come on, come on. He's too valuable to lose control of. He's too /dangerous/ to simply lose control.

Jack accepts his flask from Elena with a brief nod and tucks it away again. It's true, any time an Irishman lets perfectly good booze hit the floor, you know something isn't right. He narrows his eyes when the q-suit clad Bekah and her assistant approach. Full-body latex is usually a bad sign if you don't have /extremely/ particular tastes when it comes to the club scene. In any case, he's the one who brought Yael here, so he's not about to leave her unattended.

When Peter sends his telepathic message, Elena stares at him when she receives it, feeling the pulsing throb at the back of her head when she registers its meaning. The young Petrelli's handle of his Telepathy was a little rougher than her father's, she didn't feel this at all when Ramon projected his thoughts in her head. There's a grim line on her mouth, and she gives him a quick nod, thinking at him and pushing a surface thought into her head - much like she does with her father with his abilities. 'The painting…..you mean the one that tells about the virus? Do you think it's this one?' When Candice suggests that Peter be moved elsewhere, she shuffles closer to him and crouches down. If anything happens, Jack and Peter are around.

Bekah gives Peter another look over. "No coughing? Nausea? Headache?" She asks him before she'll let him wash the wound. He does look quite pale after all. Bekah leans in to remove the dish towel again for a look at the wound moving carefully with the gloves. And if it's bleeding less when it's wrapped back up, maybe that's just the pressure Peter's been putting on it. Or maybe it's Bekah's special healing touch keeping the mess to a minimum "Go ahead and clean it if the answer to all that is no. Then I'll take a look, see if she needs stitches. " Yael gets a smile from inside the cumbersome suit as she turns to look back to the resident. "Right. Go ahead and start with the blood draws. Make sure you're labeling them appropriately." She looks over to Candice. "You know, usually the word quarantine doesn't mean wandering to other rooms in the hospital. You're here until we get the all clear."

Having reverted straight back to covering her eyes, Yael whimpers again as Peter applies pressure to her hand. She'll be appreciative later, when she realizes that the bleeding has at least lessened, if not stopped, and the scar she'll sustain is likely much smaller than it could have been. For now, however, she just isn't having any fun. "I am never trying to make you dinner again," she decides aloud. "No matter how obnoxious you get."

"No coughing, or nausea… if I have a headache, it's because of tension," Peter explains, glancing back towards Elena with a flinch, only trying to nod briefly this time, not attempting to send further thoughts. If that's enough for the doctor, he helps Yael over to the sink, "Come on, Yael. You'll be fine. The doctor will look at you after I'm finished cleaning you off." Before he washes her hands, he washes his own, since he has no gloves to put on, he'll just make sure they're clean before he handles her further. Frowning, he looks at the wound, before he shakes his head. It /does/ look better than it should, and while he's cleaning it… it actually gets even better than before. Little does he know, right? "See, it's already closed, no more bleeding," he comments softly, smiling up at her. "Next time you cook, just be a little more careful."

Fury flashes momentarily in Candice's features. Nobody talks to her like that! Well, almost nobody. Focus, Candice. Keep your thoughts to yourself, no matter how much you'd like that doctor to think that her precious hazmat suit has done her no good and that she's got freaking smallpox. Her lips curl upward into a satisfied smile, like a cat who's just gotten some cream. Now that's a lovely thought to keep her going.

Jack is sick of being in the hospital. For now he's going to sit and drink. After all, there's not much else to do when you're locked in a tiny room with a fistful of strangers, some medical staff of questionable competency, a few friends, and one seriously cranked and partially injured Jewish girl.

When Peter and Yael move away from her, Elena watches them go, and extending her focus to both of them while they're in range. She knows how much the brain thing doesn't sit well with Peter because it hurts after, and….well, she couldn't bear hearing Yael's small sounds at her wound when she could do something about it. So while Peter is cleaning it up, she alleviates both by focusing on both of them for the moment. Meanwhile, she sits near Jack, leaning her head slightly on his arm. She's exhausted. And she's starving.

Bekah makes her way over to take a look at it with a blink at Peter's words. She didn't heal it all the way closed. Just slowed down the bleeding so they wouldn't have to send for stitches. Peter picking up her power is so unknown for her that she gives him a confused look. Some of it is hidden by her suit though. "Wow. That's healing well." She states as her minion, aka resident, starts to take blood. She eyes Jack and then mutter something about needing to run a blood alcohol level as well on that one.

Seriously cranked? Yael would resent that, if she could hear it, because she is so not as cranky as he is. Luckily for everyone, Peter is tending to her hand quite well, and her attention is distracted from her surly Irishman. "It looked worse with the blood everywhere," she remarks to Peter, peering at her hand wondrously. "I thought it was much worse." And it was, but Yael is tired, recovering from shock and blood loss, and has no reason to imagine anyone might have healed her. "Being careful doesn't work," she muses, shaking her head. "I was watching the entire time. I'm just… clumsy." A very special kind of clumsy.

"Doesn't even need a bandage at this point," Peter mentions, knowing that this healed far, far faster than it should have. That— he doesn't understand. Not something he's about to question. "You should sit down and get comfortable, get some rest. And…" Glancing around once, he reaches into his coat as if to pull something from a pocket, and what he pulls out is a small bottle of sports drink, not cold. Yeah, he feels like he's committing theft right now, but she needs something to drink. Something with electrolytes. "Drink this and try to get some rest." Waiting until she's sitting down, he notices the pain from the headache has passed, and moves back towards Elena. "My brother, Nathan Petrelli, was moved to another area of the hospital. Would it be possible for you to send for him to get brought over here if we have to stay the night?" It sounds like a valid question to him. "And it'd be nice if we had some food and something to drink." He can't keep pulling drinks and food out of his coat.

Bekah leaves the resident to play vampire. He's doing a fine job of it after all. She'll deal with the people, because she's just so good at it. "Food and drinks I can definitely arrange. I can also arrange to have some blankets and pillows brought up. Likely you'll be here all night. Having a person brought over will be harder though. The whole place may be quarantined, but that doesn't mean exposure is the same everywhere." Bekah states before she looks over to Yael's arm again, trying to figure this out. It's not easy to whisper in a quarantine suit, but she'll try it, because curiosity is her downfall. "Did you do something to make her heal faster?" She whispers to Peter, definitely confused. And then she pulls out a radio to ask for supplies to be brought here to make the confinement a bit less horrible.

When Yael is brought back to where they are, Elena relinquishes her seat for the injured woman so she could sit next to Jack, and she….well. She has to hide a smile when Peter yanks the Gatorade from his pocket. Sliding her hands in her pockets, her phone vibrates again, and she turns away to send a quick text to whoever it was. The cherry red phone is slid back into her pockets. Watching the doctors with the suits, she can't help but groan a touch. Worst night ever. Her father's probably out of his mind with worry. Damn it. This is what she gets for trying to be a do-gooder while padding her resume at the same time, being an overachiever sucks! When the doctor approaches Peter and makes her inquiry, she glances at the younger Petrelli. "There was blood on the wound," she tells the doctor. "It was a little difficult to see the extent of the damage, it could've been shallower than thought originally?" she offers as an explanation.

Jack's seen that look on Elena's face once before, when she filled him from eyeballs to toenails with the most piercing agony he'd ever encountered. As nobody's currently screaming, something else must be going on. All the same, the Irishman loops his arm around his faux niece and supports her. With a fingersnap, he produces a cookie and offers it her. "Go on, take it. The sugar'll do you good." His attention is split between 'Lena and Yael, who's currently looking rougher and rougher as the minutes tick by, despite the fact that her bleeding seems to have stopped. Yes, yes. Jack is abrasive, but there's still a slice of his soul that's fuzzy and squooshy like a teddy bear, and he's concerned about his friend.

Candice leans back against the door heavily. She doesn't even bother hiding the brooding and concerned look she's giving Peter. He should be locked up. If that /idiot/ Bishop girl hadn't gone and screwed up, he would be where he belongs - not endangering the lives of others. For Elle's sake, she had better be in a ditch somewhere.

"Thank you," Yael chirps to Peter, accepting the drink with a smile, though it's somewhat tired. It's strange, when she looks down at her hand, to see it so patched up. As she returns to Jack, dropping down to sit next to him, she holds out her hand for him to examine. "I told you it wasn't that bad," she says, tipping her chin back with a very self-assured look on her face. "I don't even need a bandage. Next time can we skip the emergency room and quarantine, please?" …except she said she was never cooking for him again. One can hope.

"Did I…" Peter looks confused for a moment, before glancing back towards the woman who had a wound. He /knows/ it had been bleeding before he applied pressure with the towel again. It'd already looked better before he started washing off the blood. It's possible… If /she/ did something, then maybe he did, too. But— he nods, "It might have looked worse than it was when the towel was still on it. It'd been bleeding for two hours before she got here." Still shouldn't have healed that fast, and the woman gets a long look. Since she asked the question… "I understand if you can't get my brother moved here, but… I had to ask. He's probably asking the same for me where he is…" He glances towards the needles, quietly removing his coat so that he can cooperate, and rolling up his sleeve. Yes, he intends to cooperate.

Bekah doesn't look like she quite believes that, but she doesn't push it. Wouldn't want to give herself away in the process. "Yeah, maybe." She states before she moves to help with the vampire duties, starting with Peter. The sooner blood is all drawn, the sooner she can get out of the really hot suit after all. It so doesn't breathe. "I understand. I'd probably ask the same thing about my family."

Now that she's been taken care of, Yael fully intends to cooperate with the blood samples, as well. Not that she has any choice. She's lost too much blood this evening to effectively put up a fight, and she'd like to get out of this hospital. Ever. Once her blood has been taken and she's finished about half of the drink she was given, however, Yael folds her arms beneath her head and allows her eyes to drift closed. "Thank you for taking care of me, Jackie," she murmurs, uncertain whether he's even listening.

With a gentleness that seems out of place for a man who's often-drunk, morally skewed, and generally mean-spirited, Jack slides out of his coat and tucks the well-worn leather garment around Yael's body. "That's what friends are for. Thanks for tryin' to cook me dinner, darlin'. You get some rest now. You did real good keeping your cool, you've earned some sacktime."

Awwww. That's cute. Look at her uncle take care of Yael. Elena's beaming at him, of course - then again, she tended to smile openly at the people close to her anyway. But whenever it was her turn to give up a blood sample, she…well, she's still in her scrubs so it's short-sleeved. She sticks out her arm and lets Bekah's vampire minion draw her blood, pressing hard on the cotton ball and folding her arm by the elbow when done. At least Jack provided her with some sugar before the blood sample was drawn, otherwise she would've just keeled over lightheaded. She manages to find a seat, carefully dropping on it, and keeping an eye on Peter in case….well. Just in case. But as she slumps back on her seat, her eyes can't help but half-lid. She's so tired.

Any blood taking that needs to be done happens, as far as Peter is aware. As far as anyone else is aware. He even holds the cotton over the area even though the pain vanishes almost immediately, and he doesn't need to do that. He moves to settle down next to Elena, offering a smile as he folds the coat up in his lap, "Looks like we're going to have to have breakfast together." She can lean against him if she needs to. "Try to stay awake until you get some food in your stomach, though, okay?" He reaches over and holds onto her hand, an oddly affectionate gesture, that someone who didn't know him might take the wrong way.

"Hey," Elena says when Peter drops down on the seat next to her, giving him a fond smile and she looks apologetic again. "God Peter, I'm so sorry. We didn't -have- to meet here, I could've just as easily asked you to go to a place somewhere we could meet…." Mount Sinai. God, for all of her supposed intelligence, she could be a -moron- sometimes. But what's done is done, and she hopes none of them are infected. Though if this was a -hantavirus-, the effects should be showing already. "And yeah, breakfast definitely. But you could use a nap yourself….your eyes are looking a little red." She leans on him, interlacing her fingers with his and smiling slightly, feeling the familiar tingles from their shared ability going active. The ties that bind and all that. She stifles a yawn, and closes her eyes.

Needles are pretty high on Jack's list of Things To Avoid. As such, he doing his very best to act invisible. For the most part, this consists of sitting very still next to Peter, Elena, and the unconscious Yael, all of whom have already provided samples. At least Jack's pretty sure that the blood-soaked towel qualifies as a sample. By way of camouflage, he grabs a loose cotton ball and presses it to his arm, mimicking his friends. Further following Peter's example, he leans in on 'Lena's other side and offers a crooked smile by way of comfort. "C'mon guys, this'll be fun. We can get Scrappy drunk for what'll hopefully be the first time."

Elena cracks an eye open and gives her uncle a look. She doesn't say anything. She just plants a kiss on the top of his head when he leans in. "You suck," is the oh-so-affectionate response.

Much the same as when it was Peter's turn, Candice offers her bare arm to the vampire crew. She watches her arm intently. The skin puckers and blood is drawn into the vial. She even flinches. It's all an act, however. For her, there's no pain. She only had to make it look real, after all. Peter had to /think/ his blood was getting drawn, so he'll have to forgive her for the momentary sting. At least she didn't have to expend the effort to make him think he still had a puncture wound in his arm.

Bekah's minion is efficient and it doesn't take long before the samples are all taken. Well, except for Jack's. The resident takes them off to the lab. Bekah steps out to get another cart from the nurse. "All the comforts of home." She states as she pushes it inside. "Well, maybe not, but there's water, and food. If you call energy bars food. Better than the crap the cafeteria serves, I can tell you that." That's covering the top of the cart, with blankets and pillows underneath. "Have a wonderful night. I'm going to go see if my services are needed elsewhere." Or if she can get out of the sweaty suit.

The quarantine lasts for several hours as hospital staff run around madly, testing samples and trying to minimize potential contamination. The groups of unfortunate hospital patients are kept in their small rooms overnight, forced to survive on vending machine snacks and bottled water. For these two groups, the entire ordeal passes without incident - so calmly, in fact, that it seems less like a quarantine than a prison. No one becomes sick.

In the late morning, the patients are allowed to leave, after providing medical information to the hospital, to get back to their real lives. All told, the quarantine lasted for over twelve hours. Twelve hours with the same people, in the same tiny room. They're bound to remember this.

In the Staff Room

Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License