xp_logs | Surgery -- September 16th, 2003

x-psylocke.livejournal.com posting in

The set-up, the surgery, and the aftermath.

This is the log, I've been sitting on for well over a week.
Enjoy!

It seemed too bright a morning for such a Monday. Crisp breezes with the promise of the autumn, thin scrawling clouds outlining the sunlight, and even the pre-requisite birds chirping in the trees. Funny how things just never are exactly how they seem. Doctor Nathaniel Essex was sitting on the wide mansion patio, sipping from a glass of ice water and staring sightlessly out into the grounds.

The preternatural calm he was so famous for was almost palatable; a force that rippled out. Earlier, he had driven Kitty Pryde to the symposium at Johns Hopkins, their agreed deceit to prevent anyone from suspecting her involvement. They had chosen it for several reasons. Hopkins, with its ties to military research had top of the line neural blockers installed, which threw out enough mental static to severely impair all but the most powerful psychics. The much smaller device that he had given to Pryde was different. It tossed out a sort of mental chaff, designed not to block a psychic, but rather make the individual mental signature seem to blend with the normal background cacophony of the astral plane.

Essex regretted having to hide her in the back seat for the last twenty minutes of the ride, but her own powers would allow her to phase directly through the car and into the lab. Her very first job would be to activate the bay systems, which included dampeners Xavier had installed so that convalescing psychics would be able to feel silence if needed.

Everything was so standard, so typical in the day, which was the important thing. Nathaniel Essex had even met with Sarah Morlocke earlier to discuss her continuing training. He checked his watch unnecessarily, and walked back into the mansion. The lack of students in the house made the silence heavy, and he walked with echoing footfalls on the sterile floors. The lab door whisked open to his handprint, and he stepped inside.

***

Without a sound Kitty slipped out of the car, making her way along the path Dr. Essex had explained to her. She hurried silently through the walls and was soon in the lab, glancing about for the controls she'd been told to look for.

There they are. Phasing back into solidity, Kitty stepped over towards them and quickly began punching in the codes and passes for the system, bringing it online.

A724o6ln... yes... yes... open the program...yes... no... and we're in. A little sigh escaped her as the computer opened a text box on the screen. Everything was up and running, her first job had gone off without a hitch. One down, eight thousand to go.

Kitty wasn't sure she was up to this task, but there was no way she was going to back out of it. Shecouldn't. And she could never let Ms. Braddock or Dr. Essex down.

***

"Dr.Essex."

"Ms Pryde. Are we ready?"

Kitty Pryde bit her lip as she looked down at the displays, checking for the eighth time. "Well, all of the readings are green, and the system suite is clean, marking no fluctuations. I think we can start at any time."

"Excellent, Ms Pryde." Essex came around the terminal, clicking a few displays with his long fingers over Kitty Pryde's shoulder. "Very well done. Are you certain that you are ready for this?"

"Yes sir." Kitty nodded firmly. Essex scrutinized her carefully and then nodded.

"Agreed. Now, for our patient." He thumbed a button on his cell phone, and waited for the ring.

***

At the other end of the house, Betsy's pager went off, and she straightened up at her desk, startled. The wave of nervousness she’d felt all morning had finally settled into the pit of her stomach. Betsy fingers went to the buzzing box at her hip and shut it off. She leaned back into her chair and continued speaking into her laptop, the sound of exhaustion, clearly heard in her voice

“I don’t think I’ll have to tell you this, David, but I’m not too optimistic about the whole thing. Not that I’m doubting Essex’s surgical ability, but, well, I’m just not totally confident of the outcome. I know, I know, I should probably tell them all here what I’m planning.”

Betsy paused, laying her head on her hands, and sighed. After a few deep breaths, she pulled back and clasped her hands together. Her eyes hooded and pained. “Hell, I know I should tell Scott, Alison, and Emma, yet, I have never been one to burden others with my problems.” A small smile filled her features. “Though, I digress. You know what to do and when. David, if the worse does happen, tell Jamie and Brian that I’m sorry, but I had to try. I think they’ll understand that.“

She took one last moment to collect her thoughts before speaking. “Computer, please attach the corrected document file of, ‘The Last Will and Testament of Elisabeth Braddock’ with the accompanying email to David Stanley.”

Several moments of listening to the laptop working, Betsy finally heard the familiar chime. “Email ready.”

“Send file.”

Thumbing the pager in her hand, without another thought, Betsy stood up from her desk and quickly left her quarters. Her mind had already taken the walk, had traveled the long Victorian-style halls of the school, and found itself stopped right outside the good doctor’s door, unable to enter within the confines of the lab. Though there was only silence, it was different than Essex’s anomalous presence; it was in fact, an all-encompassing void. And Betsy recognized the cold feeling of the place; Essex had active neural dampeners beyond the lab’s door.

This thought should not have unsettled her as much as it did. She was use to being totally blind, but this was something different, a student would be there to witness her ineptitude /around him./ He’d probably enjoyed it and Betsy grimaced at the thought.

A cold shiver swept her body and she recognized the familiar hallowness of the Manor’s lower levels. Betsy made one last careful check of the school and its’ occupants. After she was satisfied with her search, she bravely placed her hand on the doorplate and entered. She’d been mustering her nerve all morning to deal with the next six hours. Six hours she’d have to spend in the lovely company of Kitty Pryde and with the cutting side commentary of Nathaniel Essex.

***

"Ah, Ms Braddock. Timely as ever." Essex said, flipping through a stack of readings.

"We all can't just hide from our emotions as well as you, Doctor Essex." Her tone was acid, and Essex very nearly smiled.

"Indeed. Once again, as your doctor, I must stress the dangers of this operation. You are facing--"

"That is quite enough, Doctor Essex. I've heard this little spiel before and I'm still here. That is not about to change."

"Very well. On the table to your left is a surgical garment and a tray for any personal affects. Ms Pryde can assist you if you require it. There are also several forms for you to complete regarding this operation. I have taken the liberty of having them prepared in braille. I will require your signature at the appropriate fields."

"Forms for what?"

"Standard release forms, patient information, medical history, test details," Essex paused, almost savoring the next words but hiding any indication from the two women. "Next of kin. All very boring but necessary should I wish to retain a medical license. Ms
Pryde, I will be in prep. Once Ms. Braddock is ready, have her sit in the chair and attach your sensors." Essex said, and left the room.

***

Betsy listened to the retreating footsteps of Nathan Essex and let out the breath she’d been holding. Typical, she thought.

She felt a steady hand, leading her to the right. “Here, Ms. Braddock. There’s a chair behind you.”

“Thank you, Kitty.” The lavender-tressed mutant took an unsteady step forward and sat down, without ceremony. Betsy felt very tired all of the sudden and didn’t really care who was there to witness it. “Well, let’s get to it then.” She raised her hands for the forms in Kitty’s hands and started reading.

Kitty watched as her teacher processed the documents before her. Several minutes went by as Betsy’s hands grazed across the forms Essex left behind, and Kitty tried not to notice Ms. Braddock’s hand shaking after she had finished reading, or the unsteady signature she left on the forms.

“Here you go.” Betsy said with a forced smile.

Kitty took the forms and placed them on the surgical tray, her eyes catching the gleam from the pair of scissors, she hesitated. Instead, she grabbed the surgical gown, and turned back to face Betsy. She paused, not knowing how to continue. “Uh, Ms. Braddock, I need to get you ready for…”

“Yes, of course.” Betsy kept her head down, using her right hand to pull her hair behind her head. She divulged herself of her black jeans and top.

“This is for you to wear.” Kitty handed her a paper-thin garment. “It’s a surgical gown.”

Betsy’s fingers grabbed the flimsy material and bowed her head. This was getting better and better. She realized that Kitty was waiting for her. “Right, the gown.”

She heard the slight shuffling of feet and smiled. “You don’t have to turn around, Kitty. It’s alright.”

“S’okay.” After a few moments, Kitty spoke again. “Ms. Braddock?”

Betsy had divested herself of her bra and panties and was tugging at the hem of the uncomfortably short gown. “Hmmm?”

“Dr. Essex said I needed to cut some of your hair”, Kitty continued, her other hand already holding up the scissors. “So it doesn't get in the way during the surgery. I promise, I’ll try not to take too much off, just what’s necessary.”

Steel blue eyes flashed a look of surprised before covering them with an uncertain smile. “Of course, of course. I should’ve known.” Betsy let her hair fall in her face, slightly shaky hands, pushing it out of the way. It was a minute before she let go of the purple strand and turned around, giving Kitty full access. “Let’s get this over with, I don’t want to keep Dr. Essex waiting any longer than he has to.”

***

Essex sat down at the small stool, rotating beside Betsy's recumbent form. Her seat was segmented, and powered down to a hinged brace under the two intricate hanging surgical modules. Betsy's garments were already bunching uncomfortably, and Essex in his full medical garb was frighteningly anonymous. He picked up a small mouth/nose piece and placed it on Betsy gently.

"Breathe deeply, Ms Braddock." Essex said flatly, holding the mask. "You won't feel a thing."

"Everything looks fine, Dr. Essex." Kitty said, tapping away at the terminal and willing the nervousness from her fingers.

"Excellent." Essex watched Betsy start to slip under the anesthetic, her movements slowing. Just as the last tendrils of oblivion tugged at her, Essex leaned down, very close to her ear. "Goodbye, Ms Braddock." He said, almost lovingly as the darkness sucked her in and enfolded her into nothingness.

***

"All vitals are still strong, Doctor Essex."

"Thank you, Ms Pryde." Essex said, adjusting the surgical modules for the tenth time, slowly opening up the occipital cavity with the micro-laser. Six hours of tiny meticulous surgery, cuts so fine that only the microscopes could catch them. Kitty cracked her knuckles, kneading life back into her fingers. Even after all her time with computers and programming of a dubious legality, the sheer intensity of the procedure amazed her, as did Essex' utter imperviousness to the grinding stress. She had swallowed hard to keep from vomiting when Essex had removed the eyes from the cavity, letting them rest beside; optic nerve like a stray power cord trailing behind. She had bit her lip to keep from exclaiming as she saw the nano-binders go to work through the microscope display, lost in the sheer amazing alieness of the world it showed. Maybe that's what science is supposed to be like, she mused. Halfway between wonder and terror.

Essex carefully edged the module a fraction and stepped back from the table. The two computer controlled robots began a infinitely complex dance with their lasers, separating the damaged tissue from the nerve, where the microscopic filaments of nano-bundles would be laced into by the binders and rebuild the pathway. Essex walked over the terminal and rechecked the numbers before pulling down his surgical mask.

"Well, we are well into the second stage of the operation." Essex poured himself a glass of water, and flipped the power switch on the coffee maker. "While I cannot indulge right now, I highly suggest a rather large cup of coffee, Ms Pryde. We have a long way to go."

"Yeah." Kitty scrubbed her hands through her hair. "Wow. This is so unlike anything I've ever done, Dr. Essex. I mean, I've broken some pretty hairy codes and been stressed in ballet and stuff. But this, I've just-- there's nothing to compare to it."

"No, there really isn't." Essex said thoughtfully. "I think I was your age when I decided that I was going to be a doctor. It was either that or I was going to be James Bond, but the latter didn't quite work out."

"I wanted to be Karen Kain years ago." Kitty laughed. "What changed?"

"It's rather silly, actually. I originally wanted to be an engineer or an inventor. I was fascinated with watches as a child. Tiny parts, everything interconnected. I took apart a few cheap clocks before my parents finally bought a half dozen old watches and a tool
kit. I spent hours trying to get them back just right. I fixed my grandfather's very old pocket watch, that had been broken since the war. I liked understanding how things worked and making them work again." Essex sipped his water. "My mother died suddenly while I was in school. Heart failure. Fairly common in her family. I remember sitting in the church, and thinking to myself that people can be like an old watch. If you can build them proper, or repair them the right way, they can last forever. Something of a childish fantasy from a grieving boy, but it changed my focus from fixing watches to fixing people."

"I'm sorry about your mother."

"It was over thirty years ago, Ms Pryde." Essex said. "I suppose it did have some positive repercussions."

"Would you rather be in a regular practice?"

"No. I'm something of a 'big picture' person, Ms Pryde. I like the idea of changing the lives of millions of people, rather than a few thousand in a small town. I guess you could say that's why I'm here. I have been working for twenty years on human mutation. I'm considered the leading authority on an entire new race. Much of the research that goes on here will create the framework for the next thirty years of studies. That's why I don't get along with the other teachers. They want to teach you things inside the box, and I want you to create an entirely new box."

"I think the teachers are doing a good job letting us explore new ideas. I don't feel like I'm being limited or anything."

"Indeed. I simply believe that mutation means that the world itself must change, humans and mutants alike. It's not just a new science, but a new society. That's what I want to see you all making steps towards, Ms Pryde. Adaptation never ends, and if the environment is too hostile, you must find ways to change the environment itself." Essex said. "That's quite enough of the pedantic out of me for today. Help yourself to a coffee, Ms Pryde. Now is where the real work begins.

***

"Purple?"

"Now that you mention it, they are." Essex said. "I twinned a regenerative strain into the cloned material. It could explain the colour.

***

"Dr. Essex?" Kitty's voice was suddenly urgent; alarmed.

"Yes, Ms Pryde?" Essex said, his concentration never wavering. He was in the most dangerous part of the operation, literally driving a laser through the most delicate area of Betsy's brain. The fractional knits between the optic nerve and the lobes were almost
complete, but the strain was unimaginable. The slightest slip, and Betsy Braddock would be gone forever, At best, locked within her own skull, her mutant powers amputated.

"Miss Braddock's neural activity has just dipped below 130." If that activity dropped to 50 or less, Betsy Braddock would not wake up from the operation. "It's now at 110!"

"What is the dendrite axon rate in the cortex?"

"Degenerating. 26,000 parts and falling."

"Blast." Essex said, peering into the scope. The knitting should have been fair enough away from the nominal PSI regions, but obviously Betsy's were a little different. Perhaps because of the damage she had suffered before, her telepathic growth had expanded along pathways normally dormant. That meant he was, ironically enough, working blind.

"Activity is at 92, Dr. Essex!" Kitty's fingers flew over the controls as the numbers dropped, the sudden horror of a countdown on Betsy Braddock's life.

"Ms. Pryde," Essex's voice was iron. "We have looked into this. In the event of a sudden drop in neural activity, we do what?"

"Boost the blood flow to oxygen saturate the area. But I did that! And--"

"What is the next step?"

"I don't know--" Kitty checked the monitor. "88 and falling."

"You do know, Ms Pryde." Essex said, calm and controlled. "Tell me what we have to do."

Something in Kitty suddenly caught her of her, grasping on to that calmness and forcing her past the almost panic. Betsy Braddock was counting on her knowledge, the one thing she had been proud of for so long, and she had to know what to do.

"Norepinephrine!" Kitty raced through commands. "An infusion of norepinephrine to kickstart the neuralogical activity."

"Very good." Essex said, working quickly to try and isolate the danger area. He made fast adjustments, scoring the fissure and reknitting the area where the nerve bundle met the cranial tissue.

"Neural activity is up to 107 and holding." Kitty said, her voice suddenly strained.

"Indeed." Essex blinked the sweat from his eyes, double-checking his work. The damage done by the Slaymaster was even greater then his scans had shown, with a hidden deterioration in the affected areas. With the vascular weaknesses and the faltering neural impulses, Betsy would have likely died of an aneurysm before she was thirty.

"Dr.Essex," Kitty's hands were shaking. "I could have killed her."

"Ms Pryde, don't be ridiculous."

"I froze. I couldn't remember what to do."

"No Ms Pryde, you did remember what to do when it mattered." Essex said, stepping back from his work for a moment. "If Ms Braddock's level had dropped below 70, the computer would have automatically issued the infusion. However, you did not know that, and you still were able to find the correct solution. That is all that matters, Ms Pryde. This is a dangerous world, and I would not be surprised to find that one day, someone's life will depend on what actions you take when it counts."

"You knew the computer would do that, and you didn't tell me?" A vein of anger crept into Kitty's voice.

"The computer has safeguards. You were aware of that." Essex said mildly. Kitty opened her mouth, but Essex overruled her. "Safeguards are just that, Ms Pryde. They are the very last resort. It is akin to using airbags and seatbelts as an excuse to not drive well. You needed to know it because any number of things could have happened. The safeguards might not have worked, or conflicting signals could have caused it to wish to administer something completely different. That is why you are here, and I'm not
operating with the aid of a sole computer."

"You should have told me."

"I just have." Essex turned back to his equipment. "Besides, you saved Ms Braddock's
life."

"The computer would have."

"Norepinephrine administered below 75 requires an adrenal kick to create the effects. Ms Braddock is suffering from sustained vascular degradation. The adrenal kick from the computer would have caused a rupture." Essex pointed to the computer. "That would have killed her, and you did not."

"But..." Kitty let her words trail off. It was just so much to deal with.

"Ms Pryde, we have work to do. Shall we?" Essex said, and Kitty took a deep breath.

"Yes."

***

"This is really good coffee." Kitty said, looking at her cup. Essex was finishing off the last of the IV leads.

"You use a pinch of salt."

"Weird. Where did you hear that from?"

"A Navy doctor I worked with." Essex slid in the last reading meter and leaned back. "Well, sixteen hours for major reconstructive neurosurgery. I'd say that's damn good time."

"Coffee."

"Oh my, yes." Essex said, taking the mug. "You did very well today, Ms Pryde. I realize that this has been difficult on you, especially considering your age, but you performed in a manner that I would not be unhappy to find in a top intern." He toasted her with his mug before taking a long swallow. Kitty nodded, too tired to really do much else.

"Is that it?"

"For now. Ms Braddock should regain consciousness in a few days and we will see how effective the procedure was."

"Dr Essex," Kitty took a deep breath. "Why do you act like you don't care all the time?" Only the exhaustion of the last hours gave Kitty the will to say it. "They think you're cold, or mean, or nasty, and sometimes you are, and then you help Marie and Sarah and Miss Braddock. I just don't understand it."

Essex looked into his coffee mug for a long time, as if contemplating his answer. Finally, he set the mug down and lowered himself into a chair. "That's a very fair question, Ms Pryde. Unfortunately, I can only give you part of the answer. I went into medicine to help people, to create things that everyone could benefit from. I feel like I can change the world with each discovery and operation, at least in some way. However, along the way, I lost something very dear to me. Sometimes you can move past it, and sometimes it devours you. My loss was devouring me, and the only way I could survive was to shut it out. All of it. When the noise is too loud, you plug your ears. When the light is too bright, you close your eyes. When the pain is too great, you stop feeling."

For the first time, Essex looked tired and old. The scars on his hands seemed livid, as deep as the lines etched in his face. The eyes, so often cold and distant locked on Kitty's.

"I do what is best as I see it, Ms Pryde. I help who I can, and that gives me what emotion I have left."

"I didn't mean to--"

"It's quite all right, Ms Pryde. If anyone has earned a little honesty, it is you. I can feel pride, and as silly as your last name makes the statement, I am proud of you, Ms Pryde." Essex rubbed his eyes. "Now, let me treat you to a sandwich in the kitchen before both of us get some well needed sleep."

"What about Miss Braddock."

"If her vitals change at all, I will be alerted. Sleep, Ms Pryde. You need your rest."

"Yes, Dr Essex."

"Indeed."

Give the kudos to Dex, he set the stage.