[u][b]Steve Miller - Doc Wright's - Far Harbor[/b][/u]

 "You can rest, now, okay?", Corrine said, clearly concerned as she eased him down onto the cot. "The doc is gonna check you over and fix you up, an' I'm gonna stay right --"

Corrine was interrupted by someone shouting outside. 

"..o'course it is," Corrine muttered. She looked over at Steve and gave him a pained look. "Better go see what the ruckus is." She stood up, picked up her modified spear, and stepped out. Before Steve could do more then stir, Doc Wright closed in. 

"You need to stay right here, young man", Doc Wright said as he gently pushed him back onto the cot and began to examine him. "From what I can see, most of the blood you're covered in is yours....hold still and let me get a look at you. Steve winced as the doc examined his wounds. After a moment, he looked up at Steve's face.

"Stimpacks seem to have done good work on the wounds...", Doc Wright said as he stood up and began to collect his instruments, "...but you've lost a lot of blood. You wouldn't know your blood type, would you?"

Steve shook his head no. 

"Didn't think so", Doc replied sardonically, "Nobody ever does. First I'll deal with your wounds then we'll get some blood back into you." After getting his shirts off, the Doc gave him a shot of something and got to work. As the doc worked on him, Steve noticed through the front windows more and more people gravitating towards the gate. 

"Any idea what is going on out there?", Steve asked. 

"Nope', said the doc as he ran a probe through the bullet wound in his arm, and once satisfied the bullet had gone clean through, withdrew it and began to suture the wound closed. "As I haven't heard any shooting yet, it's probably nothing too serious....Corrine will tell us about it when she gets back." He then added sternly, 'Speaking of Corrine, you're lucky she was with you, mister...if you'd been alone you'd have died out there long before Longfellow and the others could get to you. I'm sure she warned you how bad it gets out there at night.'

"She did", Steve replied wearily, "But we didn't see any other option. If we hadn't, the Cult people would have gotten the equipment in Castner's Vertibird. With four suits of power armor, they'd have been no stopping them."

"Perhaps", Doc replied, "But that was a huge risk you fellows took....you got lucky this time, but I doubt that luck will hold if you try something like that again."

"Wounds closed", Doc Wright said with satisfaction as he stood again, "Now to type your blood and see what we have on hand." As he worked, he continued. "Wounds themselves weren't serious, what nearly killed you was that gulper nicked a vein when it tried to eat your arm.....good thing it wasn't a adult or you wouldn't have made it." He then added, "O Positive....your luck is still holding."

Producing a couple of blood packs from a decrepit old refrigerator, he put one on a IV pole and wheeled it next to the cot and hooked it to Steve. Several minutes...and two pints of blood later, Steve felt a lot better. 

"You should be OK now", doc said, "I heard you have a room at the Last Plank....I recommend getting cleaned up, get a good meal and turn in....and no drinking for a few days, you're still a bit low. If you start feeling poorly, or notice any signs of infection, you come back to me immediately."

"Thanks, Doc", Steve said as he fumbled for his cap purse, "How much do I..."

"Go rest", Doc cut him off, "We'll settle up later". 

Noticing his rifle propped up against a cabinet, where presumably Corrine had left it, Steve picked it up and shuffled outside. Catching his reflection in a window pane, he was a bit wan but not too bad, though his bloody coat and shirt certainly made him a sight. The area around the shops was deserted, though he could hear a discussion of some kind behind him in the direction of the Hull. Deciding to head to the Last Plank and get his spare shirt...and drop off the rifle... Steve turned and began to walk until he got to the Mirelurk boiler, at which point he stopped and began to look it over. Retrieving the suits had made his original idea a lot more viable...or at least would enable a operator to survive a hose rupture without being scaled to death...so he looked at the gauges and gave some thought to how to convert it into a makeshift weapon against the bizarre creatures that inhabited this place....until he was distracted by the sound of Corrine's raised voice. 

"Ya can't have Avery.", she said. After a pause, she then spoke again, irritation in her voice. "Well, ain't I right?!"

Concerned, Steve then began to gravitate towards the Hull, as he heard both Jamses shout questions, apparently at someone outside the walls. Making his way through the crowd, he reached Corrine's side just in time to see several Cultists move up and place what was obviously a crude wooden coffin on the ground next to what appeared to be one of the cultist leaders. 

"Avery," The cultist said solemnly, gesturing at the coffin, "She belongs with her family."

Slowly it dawned on him that the cultists wanted to exchange the real Avery's body with the synth they..he...had shot. Steve didn't know Corrine well enough yet to read her easily...but he suspected that she was stricken right now.

"Corrine", Steve said gently as he placed a hand on her back in an attempt to comfort her, "What do you want to do?"