3. You may be a warning of things to come.

[bestsir]

Who: Harry Goodsir and divers hands
What: La'an's postmortem and after
Where: The Milton church
When: After the Darkwalker claims its victim
Warnings: There's an autopsy. Goodsir has some PTSD. Fun for the whole family.

The unheated church basement will do for a mortuary. Someone finds a long table and Goodsir has La'an's poor cold corpse laid out on it, covered with a sheet.

He hasn't performed an autopsy—

(Twenty. I have performed on—)

—here, not yet. The deaths that have occurred so far have presented no mystery, but La'an's is something new and terrifying, and Goodsir feels he must get to the bottom of it.

[ There are a couple of prompts for Goodsir specifically, but feel free to start your own threads. ]

Comments

The autopsy

[bestsir]

Goodsir will shoo away anyone whose interest in this matter seems prurient or ghoulish, but otherwise he will tolerate an audience. If there's a woman who's willing to help remove La'an's clothes, he will be grateful for it; he is in fact far less prudish than some might expect of him, but it feels like it would be an intrusion on her dignity to do it by himself.

Then, well ... time to get to work. He keeps the body covered as much as he can—again, that sense of wanting to maintain some kind of decorum—and starts with the superficial examination, rattling off his observations to Levi. The facial contortions, the lack of fresh visible wounds or bruising.

That part is easy, at least.

[flambeaux]

A vampire can't stand to be near their kill any more than a human likes looking at half-chewed gristle on their plate (or an actual body). It's unusual for Louis to hang around this very human affair, but this is an unusual death. Her face... Those sounds in the night... Louis fears the presence of a powerful immortal, having no concept of what an encounter with a truly ancient vampire might be like. Lestat is enough of a handful.

So, Louis looks about as queasy as the average gentleman stepping into the room and removing his brimmed hat. But he's here, which means he must want to learn something. He murmurs his name ("Louis de Pointe du Lac") by way of brief introduction and takes a quiet vigil somewhere out of the way.

His bright green eyes look at her neck and arms but find nothing he's searching for. Otherwise, he doesn't overly stare. The sight of the body doesn't seem to bother him as much as the circumstances around which it came about.

"Anythin' missin'?" he asks softly. Normal, casual question for a normal, casual night.

[thefifthchild]

[Even if they hadn't allowed him in, there never would have been a reality where he'd let that stop him. So Damian, the youngest child in this horrible little town, watches the woman get cut open with nothing but grim neutrality as possibilities bounce around his head.

He would be lying if he said the... expression, of the woman, didn't give him pause. It reminds him of certain encounters. The Joker. Scarecrow. But those are of human origin. This is something... else. Something other.

Then Louis speaks, and Damian's broken out of his train of thought. He gives the older man the slightest dirty look at what he believes to be a very stupid question.]

The body had no signs of any physical damage.

Remains to be seen if there's any internal injuries. [He pauses. Now turning to Louis fully.] Were you expecting something to be missing?

[solitarysoul]

Levi follows Goodsir dutifully before and during the autopsy, doing as he's told and not speaking aside from a few 'Yes Sir's. He nods and makes mental notes about the observations...maybe he'll write them down later so they don't forget. But for now he's focused on the task.

Notably, he has no issue with working with the body. Though cutting it up was interesting and he's clearly trying to learn from it, he's not squeamish. Its like he just going about any mundane daily task. Part of it is because he's in soldier mode, and he shows almost no emotion in those times. But mostly its because he's seen death and bodies so much in his life (mostly those last three days in Prehevil) that it doesn't phase him. People die, it was just another part of life.

cw: things getting gross here

[bestsir]

Levi's pragmatism helps a great deal, and Goodsir is largely able to stay focused until he picks up his scalpel.

In the back of his mind he hears Knox describing the method for autopsy: the Y-shaped incision—right way up this time, Goodsir—, epidermis and dermis, subcutaneous fat, muscle ...

And that carries him along until the cut's been made and he picks up the retractors and—

The light going out of Billy Gibson's eyes. Solomon Tozer throwing the sacks at his feet. The ring on a string around a wasted neck. The last time he picked up a knife and a bone saw—

There's a roaring noise in his ears and suddenly it's difficult to breathe. The observers will see him freeze, drop the retractors suddenly, and grip the edge of the table to stay standing.

[here/not there]

[20likes]

[ It's quite a crowded room. Heartman is happy to set up in the corner, notebook open for his own observations, otherwise saying nothing. Present if only sate his need for scientific inquiry despite the morbid subject matter.

He keeps to himself, not saying a word and finding no need to speak up.]

[spoilers]

Cue one more volunteer who may or may not introduce herself as a professor while conveniently omitting the fact her doctorate is, in fact, in archaeology. Though not wholly insensitive, she does appear largely unaffected. She hadn't really known La'an, and it's hardly the first time she's seen death. Her interest clearly isn't entirely academic, nor does it seem to be out of concern but rather, well, she's curious.

Mainly, she's only here to observe. She's not really expecting they'll find much. But after the little hiccup early on, she almost offers to take over. After all, if they're going to chop up the poor girl's body, they should at least show some competence. Then they're off again, and he manages reasonably enough she decides she'll hold her peace until he's finished.

"Theories then?"

[bestsir]

Goodsir sighs. "Whatever it was—that ... thing, the noise—I can only conclude that it affected her so deeply that she died of fright. Unless it ..."

He pauses. He's about to say unless it stopped her heart, but despite everything, the sentence still sounds absolutely bizarre in his mind.

[lastdecember]

There's a small crowd milling about outside the church when Wolfwood returns from his investigations. That in itself is suspicious enough, especially after what's happened tonight, but there's blood on the ground. Not much, barely a few drops on the trodden snow, but it's enough to send Wolfwood flying through the front door and down into the basement, following the sounds of voices and the ever-growing stink of blood in the air.

He bursts into the basement with a wooden baseball bat in one hand and his gun drawn in the other, and it's only the quick glance at the table -- the body's dark-haired, but female, not male -- that saves Goodsir from a bullet in the head. He doesn't lower his weapon, though, as he snarls to the room at large: "What in the hell are you doing in here?!"

[bestsir]

When he bursts in, Goodsir is just about to start sewing up the body and restoring it to order. At the noise, he jumps, visibly, hands held out with just the needle pinched between his thumb and forefinger.

"I'm sorry," he says. "We needed somewhere for—something killed her, Lt. Noonien-Singh, and we needed to find out..."

He trails off.

Afterward

[bestsir]

After the work is done—the autopsy incision sewn up, the body carefully wrapped in a makeshift shroud—Goodsir goes to wash his hands and just sort of ... wanders off. If anyone goes looking for him, they'll find him in the church sanctuary, seated in a pew in the dark and shivering.

As to what's to be done—the preparations for the burial and so forth—he leaves that to her friends.

[castitas]

Kate has no business being anywhere near an autopsy, and she's done precisely that: minded her business and kept far away, despite knowing where it's been taking place. Her imagination is more than enough. They do this sort of thing in films and TV shows, don't they?

But she comes later, when she hopes it's all over. Slips into the church, and there's a feeling of dread knowing what's beneath her feet. Death is a terrible business. There's a little inhale, when she spots him in the pew and she understands that it has been done and she's just.... sad. She doesn't know what else to be right now. Sad for him, sad for La'an. She's too tired and still reeling to be much else.

Without a word, Kate sits beside him in the pew. She gently takes his hand and holds it with her own.

[bestsir]

Goodsir's hand is nerveless and cold and it's a moment before he reacts. He turns to Kate and smiles sadly.

"Thank you," he says.

Re: Afterward

[goingtobeunwell]

There was one man carefully watching the proceedings from the sidelines. The night of the death Crozier had crawled himself out of his igloo and wandered into the center of town.

Morfin.

No, Hornby.

No, Manson. The fear. The fear.

She died alone, frightened. It’s happening once more, a beast hunting them down and taking them, one by one, and they’re powerless to stop it.

He hates she was alone when she died, and so when it’s all said and done quietly snuck into the church to have a quiet service for her soul. He’s finishing as Goodsir enters - he must be done with the autopsy - and softly walks to his chosen pew.

I want you to cut open Irving’s stomach.

Good.

He sits.

“What are we doing here, Harry? This place…”

Re: Afterward

[bestsir]

Kate left his side a little while ago, and now—ah, another visitor.

"I don't know, Francis," he says, staring off into some point in the middle distance. He's never used Crozier's Christian name before, and doesn't really notice that he's done so. "I think ... I am beginning to think that we are caught on between something that needs us, and something that emphatically wants us gone." He turns to Crozier with a weary gallows smile on his face. "Familiar, isn't it?"

[fidior]

Edward isn't present for the autopsy. He can't— can't do it, can't see the poor woman's body carved into, but he lingers close by when it's happening, outside of the church. He's a solitary, dark figure standing there to anyone else's eye. (In the corner of his own, he sees his shadowed double. By this point, the twin is with him everywhere he goes, and more and more he finds himself wanting to be alone with it.)

But La'an's death tugs out the last remaining vigilance of Edward Little. He won't abandon her (although of course, it's too late; she died, a horrific death, alone, frightened, and he failed to keep someone in this community safe, just as he's failed before.)

After some time, he notices some people leaving the church, sombre, heads down — but doesn't see Goodsir. Little hesitates for a brief spell before he heads inside, prepared to go down to the church basement if he must (stomach a tightening knot at the thought), but it's then that he spots a familiar tangle of black curls, a man seated alone at a pew, shrouded by dark.

Slowly, he approaches Goodsir, and moves to sit down beside him. His double sits too, head turned to watch. Edward can feel the man shaking, and dips his head; his own hands tremble. He remembers watching Goodsir cut into Irving, and thinks that everything is repeating itself again. Death and horror and no way to stop it.

"Are you all right?" Finally he speaks, voice soft and deeply sad.

[bestsir]

Goodsir snorts softly. What an absurd question. But Little means well, he knows.

"No," he admits. "No, I am very much not all right."

[friendsfordinner]

The moment that fear abates, the moment he knows he can leave his house, Hickey does so. He heads off, without telling anybody (sorry Billy). Whatever happened can wait, he knows that thing is out there. One of the gods of this land was so close and he missed it. Well, he can at least try and catch up with the thing. He's quicker now. Faster. He can find it.

He does not find it. So a very winded and very hungry Cornelius Hickey makes his way back to town. He doesn't know what's happened. How could he? The moment he felt like he could breathe again, he left. So absolutely unaware of what happened, about La'an's body, about all of this, Hickey makes his way to the nearest building to warm up: the church.

Warm up is a relative term considering how fucking cold it is. But for Hickey, who's cheeks are bright red and who's got a dusting of snow and ice on his hair and beard, it's warm enough. At least, it's a place for him to sit and mull over what he saw. He slumps down in a pew...then notices someone else is there. Standing up, Hickey walks over to spot—

"Goodsir," said with a little nod. "Now what brings you out here?"

[bestsir]

Kate, Crozier, Little ... those conversations were all, in their own way, welcome. This, however—emphatically not.

Goodsir doesn't answer. Maybe if he doesn't say anything, the damned rat will go away.

[maintiensledroit]

"Doctor?"

The man speaking quietly, respectfully, is standing at the end of the pew. He's dressed in flannel and jeans, but he carries a tan Stetson hat against his side. And nearby, a large white wolf, sitting patiently. "Excuse me. I'm sorry to interrupt your thoughts."

[bestsir]

Goodsir looks up and recognises one of the more recent arrivals—someone he's seen about but hasn't met properly yet. He wants to stand up and introduce himself properly but ... he just can't be bothered right now. Enough to simply nod in acknowledgement and say, "It's all right. Can I help you?"

[solitarysoul]

Once things are calmer, and Goodsir doesn't have any other visitors, Levi will approach the man.

"Thank you for letting me assist, Sir. But, are you alright?"

The way the doctor had acted during parts of the procedure...well, they were quite familiar to him.

Re: Afterward

[lieutenantsteward]

Thomas doesn't say anything. He simply sits, hands in his lap atop a small bundle that he gently toys with. He sits, perhaps, a bit closer than he would otherwise, lending a small bit of warmth, a small amount of weight against his shoulder.

"It is strange to be in this place," he mutters with no expectation of response.

Re: Afterward

[ployboy]

Ah, a church. Tim can, maybe correctly, guess that he knows their innards as well as Kate. One other dichotomy of theirs to add to the growing list, but after the cutting and sewing of the autopsy Tim doesn't wander through Milton's church searching for her.

He doesn't doubt that Goodsir has seen his own visitors, but Tim does doubt that the man knows about...

And, well, at least Goodsir knows that Tim knows violence.

He approaches the bench. Doesn't sit. Asks, as if to rouse the doctor from a stolen nap-- "Sir? If you have a moment... there's something I think you should know."

[lastdecember]

There's a lot of folks who want to come and talk to the surgeon after he finally emerges from the basement, and so Wolfwood stands back, lost in the shadows on the other side of the sanctuary near the entrance to the private rooms, and waits for the man to be once again alone. He treads heavily when he approaches, making sure that Goodsir knows he's coming.

At least this time the gun's been put away?

"That wasn't anything personal," he offers, quietly, once he's in speaking range. He stays standing at the end of the pew -- this isn't intended to be a long conversation. It's an apology, not a chat. "I came back here, lookin' for the folks who have been livin' here, and..." His gaze tracks up, to the closed side door across the room, then back down to Goodsir with an apologetic shrug. The place had reeked of blood, to his sensitive nose, and he'd been expecting all kinds of terrible things when he'd burst through that basement door.

Sorry about that.

"And I suppose I really should have told you earlier that I don't have the best track record with doctors. Surgeons," he corrects himself, with a small quirk of the lip. "That's on me. It won't happen again."