𝐿𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑜𝑓 𝑎 𝑆𝑢𝑟𝑔𝑒𝑜𝑛-𝒯𝒽ℯ 𝒜𝓇𝓉𝒻𝓊𝓁 𝒟ℴ𝒹𝑔ℯ𝓇//ʲᵃᶜᵏ ᵈᵃʷᵏⁱⁿˢ

𝙴𝚗𝚝𝚛𝚢 𝚏𝚒𝚏𝚝𝚎𝚎𝚗

𝐴 𝑤𝑜𝑚𝑎𝑛 𝑤ℎ𝑜 𝑘𝑛𝑜𝑤𝑠 ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑡ℎ 𝑤𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝑎𝑙𝑤𝑎𝑦𝑠 𝑏𝑒 𝑝𝑜𝑤𝑒𝑟𝑓𝑢𝑙 —𝑀𝐽𝑇

It's not everyday a twelve year old gets trotted over by the Governors carriage, but today is that day for Walter Remington, the local paper boy. Today is the day his life changes forever, for the better or possibly, most likely, for the worst.

Shouts and screams echo amongst the bustling streets, it wasn't uncommon for people to wail the night away with the amount of crime in the area, however, this was very much a different situation. "We need a doctor!"

The poor lad had been suffering for at least ten minutes before Mary-Rose could get to him, being only twelve, the boy was panicked, panting, and crying. She even began to doubt herself if his leg could be saved, not many have done such a procedure, but she quite certainly was thankful she was a quaint thinker. However, Jack wasn't aware of whatever Mary seemed to have already planned out, because she failed to share whatever the next few steps will initiate.

"Mary—please tell me what the bloody hell we're doing? Because I don't know about you, but the lad's about to bleed out!" He stands before the gurney, he'd gone to pull out the saw but Mary-Rose had already told him 'to put the damned machete down'

Either way, Mary Budel had a plan and she wasn't letting anybody stop her, not even Jack. "Look. I've been meaning to tell you, for a while. But I've been working on something—something majorly altering," she picks up a brief case from beside her foot, only moments ago she'd returned with the black bag after dashing off behind the privacy of the doctors quarters, leaving Jack to try and control the crowd and the patient below his hands. He was still fumbling from the previous surgery that day, he hadn't even begun to notice the shaking in his hands until the boy beneath his fingertips gripped onto his larger palm in search for some form of comfort. "But I've created something. Hopefully it works."

"Oh, wonderful," Jack scoffed. He utterly couldn't believe the fact that Mary hadn't even explained to him what in gods name that she could have even planned out. "Thankyou for clearing that up, dear."

"In one of my fathers journals, there's a theory of a system in the body that causes the reaction of pain—"

"Simpler terms, please," they were all under the stress of the boy bleeding out between them, the make shift tie off had only worked for the brief couple of moments for them to figure out the next plan of action.

"Pain. Theres something to cause it, and this means there must be something to stop it," she pulls out a glass bottle, a clear liquid slushing around inside. Jack's features is a mixture of disbelief and probably worry. He loved this woman, however she never seized to amaze him as well as scare the living shit out of him. "This, is Ether. Chemicals of Ethanol and Sulphuric acid mixed to make something called a pain killer," she shrugged with a lopsided frown. "If it works right," she holds up the bottle of liquid and a torn off piece of fabric from her shirt.

"If it works?" He shakes his head in complete and utter disbelief, he tried to calm down not wanting to frighten the barely conscious boy below him. "What the hell are you thinking?"

"He'll die anyway, and if we even have the slightest chance at saving this boy," she tipped some liquid into her cloth with precision. She didn't quite know how much to put, but she'd already knocked herself unconscious previously by accidentally spilling the substance on her chest so she suspected not a great deal was needed for a twelve year old boy. "Then I'm taking it."

"Now, if he breathes this in," she hovers the cloth over the young boys mouth, not quite placing over his lips just yet. "He should be knocked right on out. Hopefully."

"Hopefully?" His eyes almost fall out in surprise by her choice words. Could she be dreadfully serious right now? "What do you mean by hopefully?"

"I've only tried it once," she asked if the boy had anything to say before she covered his mouth, a hand on his shoulder they all waited for his breath to stop shaking.

"Doc, will you save my leg?" It came out in a fretful whisper, pleading the blonde doctor for help.

"Lad, you'll be running home. I promise," she knew no doctor should make promises, because things like this always took a turn for the worst out of nowhere and you had no control over it. But how could you tell a dying child he most probably had a gem percentage chance at seeing his mother again? "See you on the other side. Now breathe in slowly."

The boys head lulled to the side within seconds, and she knew they needed to act fast. Faster than ever before.

Jack got into position, and Mary ordered a few appliances. "We need to be fast, but we also need to be precise. Realign the bone, avoid the artery, stitch him back up. Easy."

"We only get one shot at this, Mary," his hands hover over the unconscious boys fractured bone. Tugging his lip between his teeth, with floppy blonde hair, the brown eyed man meets her gaze. "Are you sure?"

"His blood is on my hands," she nods once, not once feigning from his gaze. "And he will die without this. I'm sure, Jack."

"Well then, we have work to do."