Alkor Centaris
Son of Liberty
"...may feel some discomfort, some heat, and pain is remotely possible. Speak up if it becomes unbearable." His distant gaze swept across the floor as the last of several diodes was pressed into place. The entire length of his left arm was riddled with them, strapped to a console and surveilled by a heartrate monitor. An IV dripped Kolto into a vein in the opposite arm, a constant and nagging reminder that his body had been ravaged. Alkor barely grunted a response. "Alright, then we'll begin the first tests. Starting the current... now."
The Dark Jedi had always been a stranger to medical care. These tests and operations confused him, and the sensation of pain leaving his body felt odd and foreign. When the electricity became relevant enough that he felt it, Alkor exhaled through his nostrils.
"I'll increase the output," the nurse stated as she turned a dial and watched the numbers rise nominally. "Can you feel any sensation at all? I'm looking for an idea of how severe the nerve damage is."
He raised his arm and attempted to curl his fingers into a fist. They responded, but only with a twitch. His eyes narrowed. "Can you move just your index finger for me?" she asked with a smile. He tried, failed.
"My hand is not responding," he commented. "I cannot fight like this."
"You won't be doing any fighting for some time," the woman chided. "You'd better start focusing on recovering and work with me, or chances are that you never will again." Alkor looked up at her with a bleak expression.
"This is a waste of resources," he told her.
"What?" she looked astonished. "You're recovering from an insane level of poisoning, mister Centaris. The nerve damage is understandable. It will take time-"
"Time you could be spending on saving a life," he spat. "When a sword breaks, you get another sword. Reforging metal is inefficient in an age where replacements are plentiful."
"While it's disturbing that you would liken yourself to a weapon and testify to your exhausted usefulness, I'd like to remind you that you're here because someone expressly asked me to rebuild your body from the ground up. As long as it takes. I'm a specialist, Alkor, this is what I do."
"Rebuild?" he asked, skeptical.
"After flushing out the residual toxins and ridding your body of the most immediate threats, I determined several of your organs had been severely- almost irreparably damaged by something else entirely. The toxin that afflicted you was lethal, but your body was creating an antitoxin at an alarming rate- something human bodies do not naturally do. That antitoxin was a foreign substance, and it acted like cancerous cells, breaking down and causing failures throughout your body."
He looked at his hand again. "I did this to myself," he muttered.
"Specifically, your endocrine system. The adrenal glands and thyroid were overworked and pumping tainted hormones into your bloodstream. In a sense, you were creating a false rage and empowering your body-"
"Get to the point," he cut in. Alkor was gritting his teeth.
"I've had to replace several of your organs with synthetically grown transplants. After some bloodwork and donations from several people happy to offer up the necessary cells and plasma, I was able to recreate working replacements that your body would accept."
His hand trailed to his stomach, where old wounds had closed and flesh had fused together. Only scars remained. "The Kolto cleaned those out and knitted you back together. I was astonished at the extent of the damage. I can't even imagine how much pain you must have been in, or how you were able to go so long without treatment."
"It burns," he said at last. She glanced over to the monitor, where she noted that the intensity was nearly at its maximum output. With a frown, she sighed.
"This is going to take much longer than I hoped," she told him. "The damage in that area is extreme. You may never move it properly again without cybernetics."
"I will die before I accept that," he said flatly.
"Don't make me call [member="Keira Ticon"] in here," she told him. "You're not dying on my watch, even if I have to rebuild every damn one of your limbs. Just work with me, Alkor. I only want you to have your life back."
Alkor looked up at her, his jaw set.
"You can feel, which means the nerves are not shot, just severely damaged. Those can be regrown or healed with the proper instruments." She dialed back the electricity and took him by the wrist. Her hand closed around his, and he felt his fingers follow her lead. "Does it bother you, people trying to help?"
Alkor glanced away. "It makes no sense." He jerked his arm away and tried to break her grip, but without power he succeeded only in pulling her closer. She was young, younger than he expected a trained healer to be. Her hair was messy, upon closer inspection, as though she had not slept in some time. "Why bother helping me?"
The woman reached with her other hand and held his in both of hers. "Because there are people who care about you, Alkor," she whispered. "Your sister told me that you might resist like this. You need to listen to what she has to say, even if you don't like it."
Alkor grunted. "I want to move my hand," he said.
"So move it," the woman smirked.
"Let go."
"No."
"Let go." Alkor pulled again, harder this time. "I will kill you the moment my strength returns," he threatened, "if you do not let me go."
"Good," she said sweetly. "Now, keep that in mind, and use that determination to get better."
The Dark Jedi had always been a stranger to medical care. These tests and operations confused him, and the sensation of pain leaving his body felt odd and foreign. When the electricity became relevant enough that he felt it, Alkor exhaled through his nostrils.
"I'll increase the output," the nurse stated as she turned a dial and watched the numbers rise nominally. "Can you feel any sensation at all? I'm looking for an idea of how severe the nerve damage is."
He raised his arm and attempted to curl his fingers into a fist. They responded, but only with a twitch. His eyes narrowed. "Can you move just your index finger for me?" she asked with a smile. He tried, failed.
"My hand is not responding," he commented. "I cannot fight like this."
"You won't be doing any fighting for some time," the woman chided. "You'd better start focusing on recovering and work with me, or chances are that you never will again." Alkor looked up at her with a bleak expression.
"This is a waste of resources," he told her.
"What?" she looked astonished. "You're recovering from an insane level of poisoning, mister Centaris. The nerve damage is understandable. It will take time-"
"Time you could be spending on saving a life," he spat. "When a sword breaks, you get another sword. Reforging metal is inefficient in an age where replacements are plentiful."
"While it's disturbing that you would liken yourself to a weapon and testify to your exhausted usefulness, I'd like to remind you that you're here because someone expressly asked me to rebuild your body from the ground up. As long as it takes. I'm a specialist, Alkor, this is what I do."
"Rebuild?" he asked, skeptical.
"After flushing out the residual toxins and ridding your body of the most immediate threats, I determined several of your organs had been severely- almost irreparably damaged by something else entirely. The toxin that afflicted you was lethal, but your body was creating an antitoxin at an alarming rate- something human bodies do not naturally do. That antitoxin was a foreign substance, and it acted like cancerous cells, breaking down and causing failures throughout your body."
He looked at his hand again. "I did this to myself," he muttered.
"Specifically, your endocrine system. The adrenal glands and thyroid were overworked and pumping tainted hormones into your bloodstream. In a sense, you were creating a false rage and empowering your body-"
"Get to the point," he cut in. Alkor was gritting his teeth.
"I've had to replace several of your organs with synthetically grown transplants. After some bloodwork and donations from several people happy to offer up the necessary cells and plasma, I was able to recreate working replacements that your body would accept."
His hand trailed to his stomach, where old wounds had closed and flesh had fused together. Only scars remained. "The Kolto cleaned those out and knitted you back together. I was astonished at the extent of the damage. I can't even imagine how much pain you must have been in, or how you were able to go so long without treatment."
"It burns," he said at last. She glanced over to the monitor, where she noted that the intensity was nearly at its maximum output. With a frown, she sighed.
"This is going to take much longer than I hoped," she told him. "The damage in that area is extreme. You may never move it properly again without cybernetics."
"I will die before I accept that," he said flatly.
"Don't make me call [member="Keira Ticon"] in here," she told him. "You're not dying on my watch, even if I have to rebuild every damn one of your limbs. Just work with me, Alkor. I only want you to have your life back."
Alkor looked up at her, his jaw set.
"You can feel, which means the nerves are not shot, just severely damaged. Those can be regrown or healed with the proper instruments." She dialed back the electricity and took him by the wrist. Her hand closed around his, and he felt his fingers follow her lead. "Does it bother you, people trying to help?"
Alkor glanced away. "It makes no sense." He jerked his arm away and tried to break her grip, but without power he succeeded only in pulling her closer. She was young, younger than he expected a trained healer to be. Her hair was messy, upon closer inspection, as though she had not slept in some time. "Why bother helping me?"
The woman reached with her other hand and held his in both of hers. "Because there are people who care about you, Alkor," she whispered. "Your sister told me that you might resist like this. You need to listen to what she has to say, even if you don't like it."
Alkor grunted. "I want to move my hand," he said.
"So move it," the woman smirked.
"Let go."
"No."
"Let go." Alkor pulled again, harder this time. "I will kill you the moment my strength returns," he threatened, "if you do not let me go."
"Good," she said sweetly. "Now, keep that in mind, and use that determination to get better."