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.

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.

[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.

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…”

[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.

[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?

[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.

[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?"

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.

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?"

[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.

[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."

[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.

[solitarysoul]

Levi moves quickly to catch Goodsir. Was this some effect of the body, or the doctor's own issues? Either way he was there to help.

"Sir? Are you alright? Do you need something?" There's concern in his voice, though he remains expressionless.

Re: Afterward

[goingtobeunwell]

It’s a sign of how far he’d come (fallen?) that he doesn’t notice the switch from title to name.

“Cruel if by design,” he agrees, looking dead ahead. He can’t even manage a smile, gallows or otherwise. “What do we do?”

He sounds so small, so lost; feels it too, with all of his being.

Re: Afterward

[bestsir]

Goodsir really looks at Crozier then, properly. That sound of his voice—it hurts to hear. And it tugs at his newfound refusal to resign himself to his fate.

"It's as it was in the Arctic, Francis. We can lie down and wait for whatever is coming for us, wait for it to take us. But—"

There is almost no one else to whom he can say this.

"But I have already done that once, and I will not do it again, so long as I have the will to live."

[bestsir]

Levi's voice seems to come from a long way away, and it's a struggle for Goodsir to focus on it. He tries to pick up the retractor again, but he can't seem to get a grip on it.

"It is nothing," he stammers, his voice sounding weak and strained in his own ears. "I'm all right. Merely a—a passing—"

He finally gets hold of the retractor and places it in the incision. He seems to be looking at his hands through a tunnel; all else around him is a blur.

"Help me with this, will you?" he asks, a faint tremor in his voice.

The instrument, when opened, exposes the ribcage. Goodsir stares at what lies within, still with that tunnel vision.

[solitarysoul]

"O-okay." He's not sure what to do but he'll follow Goodsir's lead. If the surgeon seems to be struggling with the tools, Levi will help steady his hand or just take them. He is very good at following instructions if Goodsir needs to walk Levi through this instead of doing it himself.

[fidior]

His dipped head moves gently, becomes a soft nod. Every movement feels so heavy, even without the presence of his doppelgänger's misery bleeding into him. There are dark circles beneath his eyes, and even to blink is a great effort.

"I know."

Of course he knows. He knows what this man has had to do.

"I am... deeply sorry. That this task falls to your hands again."

Re: Afterward

[goingtobeunwell]

“As it was in the Arctic,” he repeats, sounding haunted. Goodsir may have a healthy sense self-preservation this time, but all it does is make him sick with guilt and burden. “Christ. Christ, I can’t do it again-”

Crozier presses the heel of his hand into his eyes.

[castitas]

"I should be thanking you. We all should." Kate says quietly, squeezing his hand a little. "For doing this. I... can't imagine that was easy for you, even if this is the the kind of thing you know how to do."

Like, maybe it's different when it's someone you know.

"I'd ask if you were okay, but—" she suspects she already knows the answer, and her own smile is just as sad. What else does she say? "Are you okay?"

[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."

[ployboy]

It's nothing, and that's a damn lie if Tim has ever heard of one. The observers of this experiment (this is what the autopsy is, the diving into something unknown with faint hope of resurfacing with understanding of their world) skews young, but the affair has been smooth going so far.

Until the whole butter-fingers thing.

Autopsies are for the living, but Tim still frowns; the woman deserved a steady hand. Levi is quick to snap to service but Tim's eyes are on Goodsir.

"Sir," he demands with a quiet whisper of a word. "Doctor. You can take a minute to breathe. There's no need to rush the process but it is something that should be done to the best of your abilities."

And nothing less.

He'd said the same thing to Damian previously.

[friendsfordinner]

"I only asked a question," Hickey points out, with a little roll of his eyes.

There's a moment's pause before he decides to continue talking, mostly to hear himself talk.

"Whatever that is...bloody well vanished. Disappeared into thin air. Something that can instill terror with it's very presence but vanish when you try to seek it out. Just like the Arctic, hmm? Just like what we're used to."