*Mourns continuity*
--R
Protests, and how the Bush Administration deals with them.
![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small}
libriscum's fault. I told you they were flesh-eating insects. Did you listen to me?I thought it was chicken pox at first, there were sooooo many red things.
I haechu.
Mingle2 - Online Dating
Not because of the rating. Because it based this rating on how many times I used three words - hell (3), rape (2), and CRAP (1) of all things.
I think it couldn't read my f-locked entries, or my cuts, sooo....pretty limiting ^.^
- Mood:
amused - Music:Kyu Sakamoto
*grin* excuse me, going to fantasize for a bit...
...
...
...
...
...
well, the fanvids were lovely, if occasionally bewildering. I especially liked the Jack/Daniel one.
Site pimp: http://www.janedavitt.com/Vids.html
on the main page, she has some great fanfics - sadly only two Doctor Who (one's a BtVS crossover, too *pout*) but about four or five Firefly (two Jayne/Simon!) and boatloads of Buffy and lots of other stuff.
stewardess says, I want full control of all my posts, up to and including my fanfiction. Long story short, I'm f-locking all posts after this one and a great deal of the ones before it. To be honest, this makes me feel a hell of a lot more comfortable, actually. Now I don't have to wonder if some perv twelve states away is salivating over a lesbian teenager, and I don't have to be so careful about what geographic clues I'm putting in that may aid said perv.I also don't have to worry that my fanfics, especially first drafts, commissions, favors, and my PWPs (few though there are) will be taken out of context and basically pimped out to subscribers of feeds like bloglines. I'm providing a free source of entertainment; it's not fair that other people have to pay. If anyone wants to read my fanfiction, the large majority is posted at FFN, under the user name Chronicles Bailey, and the rest I would be happy to email you, free of charge. But I refuse to let my content be archived anywhere I have not personally posted it, or given express permission for it to be posted. I love writing. I do not enjoy looking over my shoulder, wondering where some people dug up some of my old laundry. It may seem like a double standard, to both want a broad audience and also not want my fanfiction on a feed, but I cannot let my stories get raped. Every last one is a labor of love, even the ones that distracted me from homework or studying for tests. The last thing I will allow is for any schmuck to type in "flitshadowflame" and be able to read about a 16 year old lesbian and all her worries and woes, her twists and debates and rants and fanfics, in whatever format bloglines or other feeds decides to put me in. They are raping my brainchild, MY livejournal, and I'm not going to stand for it. If bloglines could find a chapter from a story I only BETA-read, they could sure as hell find content I actually wrote.
So, be aware that rereading old entries and perusing new ones will require a login from now on.
--Flit
- Mood:
pissed off
- Mood:absolutely surly
- Music:none. still.
- Mood:
they oughta have a "dejected" - Music:none, but if I had some, it'd be rockin' like me
okay, now that I'm done being crazy...*ambles off to join livejournal communities and make a nuisance of herself in general.* Actually, I think I'm gonna work on userpics, now.
- Location:still at the computer. where else would I be?
- Music:happy little chirping spring birds
Ah well. My "Poor George" drabble series.
+-+
“A week off to celebrate your birthday with your family? Sure, O’Malley. You’ve been putting in plenty of hours recently, really pushing the 80-hour work week limit. I like that. Keep it up, and have some fun.”
“Thanks, Chief,” George smiled. The smile became a worried frown as soon as he was out of sight.
-
“George, you’re back!” Izzie grinned. She hugged him violently, and he winced, making an odd, choked cough. “What’s wrong?”
The cough intensified, becoming wet and terrifying. His mouth was covered with both his hands. When he could breathe again, he lowered them. They were so red…
-
“Punctured lung, cracked ribs, severe bruising, minor internal bleeding…and that’s just the chest. Operation upon admittance repaired much of the internal damage - lung’s fixed; he isn’t bleeding internally now. He hasn’t regained consciousness, and there’s a contrast CT scan scheduled for two hours from now, to make sure he doesn’t have a hematoma. Karev, do the CT. Tell me right away if he wakes up. Yang, see if the lab did his blood work yet. Stevens, Grey, rounds. O’Malley ain’t the only patient, and you two like him way too much to not screw him up.”
-
Alex pushed the gurney into the room, enlisting a few nurses to help him lift O’Malley onto the machine and secure his head. O’Malley’s right ankle looked awkward and swollen, and his nose was more off-center than usual. Alex decided to scan that, too, just in case it was broken. He was aiming at plastics, after all. May as well help the Fetus out, save him from having a crooked bridge the rest of his life. If there was a “rest of his life”.
He watched the screen. “Shit.”
-
“Subacute subdural hematoma,” Alex offered. “His nose is broken, too. The X-Rays for his arms, legs, hands, and feet aren’t exactly inspiring hope, either. His right ankle is badly sprained, his left hip looks like it was recently out of socket, and he has numerous bone scars consistent with old injuries, with the juxtaposition suggesting…”
“Karev, you better tell me what the juxtaposition suggests before I juxtapose my foot into your ass.”
“Child abuse.”
-
“Tox screen’s negative, platelet count is way up, white count is slightly elevated. We’ve given him two liters of blood, and a rectal exam.” Christina swallowed. “Patient has rectal tearing consistent with rape, some semen was recovered, it’s been – sent to the police. He also has old scar tissue on his buttocks consistent with a history of child abuse and rape.”
“Do you want off this case, Yang?”
“No, Dr. Bailey.”
-
(A soft chuckle.)
“Hey, li’l Georgie.” (Two hands enfolding a limp one.)
“D’you remember, when you were in third grade? There was that one fifth grader, somethin’ Woodruff. He wouldn’t quit botherin’ you after school, ‘member? You never said anything, but me n’ Tom noticed you’d get all quiet…we followed you one day – skipped peewee football. Dad tanned our hides later, ‘member?
“We saw that bully…pickin’ on you, Georgie, me n’ Tommy did. So we beat the everlovin’ spit outta him. ‘Cause nobody, nobody calls our little brother names, and nobody gets to – gets to…I’m awful sorry we couldn’t protect you this time, Georgie.”
-
“Mr. O’Malley.”
“Ed. I’m Ed. An’ that sack’a flesh is Tommy, an’ this here is a doctor.” (Two hands each squeeze one of George’s. Tommy doesn’t take offense.)
“This is your brother?”
“Yes, officer.”
“Do you know what happened to him?”
“He got hit in the head, y’see? The docs said it was somethin’ about a subashoot…” Ed stumbled over the unfamiliar words. “George’d know.”
“Do you know who did this to your brother? Who attacked and raped him?”
“O’Malleys don’t get raped.” (Glaring, stubborn rednecks versus impolite, uncaring Seattle P.D.)
-
“Can we continue the interrogation now?”
“…Dad always beat on us when he was drunk. It was Georgie’s birthday, though, so we were all drunk, an’ me n’ Ed are useless in a fight when we’re wasted.”
“You don’t know who…sexually assaulted George?”
“Tom n’ me passed out ‘fore Dad finished. He started in on us, too, but Georgie’s better with whiskey. Don’t look it, but he’s good with liquor. Dad’s like that, too.”
“Has your father ever sexually abused your brother to your knowledge?”
(Both glance at the comatose George.)
“He looks like he’s just sleepin’, doesn’ ‘e?” asks Ed.
-
Tom, the oldest of the O’Malley brothers, left Ed with George and talked to the officer in the hall.
“Dad only beat any of us when he was real drunk, so only once a month, about. He liked hittin’ George most ‘cause George’d cry. George stopped cryin’ when he was fourteen, far as we knew. I was seventeen or eighteen then. I don’t think he really stopped cryin’, I just think people had to try harder to make ‘im. I reckon Dad tried pretty hard.”
“Ed doesn’t know?”
“Older brothers protect the others. Can’t protect Georgie. Hafta protect Ed.”
-
“Start with 14. Once a month, at least 4 years - 48. Holidays, summers, that’s maybe 5 yearly in college, so 68. Med school, maybe 3 a year, so 12 plus 68 is 80. 81 times, y’think? Maybe round down to an even 80?”
“Why are you counting that?”
“How could anyone do that to a kid? Especially Fetus as a kid. Probably the biggest stuffed animal in town.”
“Why does this bother you extra-much?”
“You didn’t just beat the odds, Izzie, you made ‘em. It’s lookin’ like George beat the odds, too, for a little while.”
“I think physically and sexually abusive white trash dad trumps former trailer trash ex-model.”
-
“How’s O’Malley, Karev?”
“Still not awake. His brothers don’t understand how severe his need for the exploratory surgery is. There could be an underlying neurological problem.”
“Karev?”
“Yes, Dr. Bailey?”
“MAKE THEM UNDERSTAND!”
“Yes, Dr. Bailey.
-
“Why does he need for you to stick a camera down him?” asked Tom.
“The lack of improvement suggests an underlying problem…” the blank looks made Alex sigh. “Okay, you know how George isn’t getting better, hasn’t woken up yet?” They nodded. “Well, if it was just trauma…if the only problem was that he got hit too hard, he should have woken up, or gotten much worse. So, we’re looking for something else we need to fix.”
“What if there’s nothin’?”
“We wait.”
-
"Nothing. There's nothing," Shepherd sighed.
"There HAS to be something," Alex scowled.
"Not here. He's just taking a little longer to snap out of it." Derek wasn't even persuading himself.
"Five days in a coma, even when the bleed's fixed?"
"He was stage five. Shouldn't have done the surgery."
"MASSIVE INTERNAL HEMHORRAGING, Shepherd? Ring any bells? He needed the blood. He would've been chronic in a week, and THAT would be real trouble. He needed the surgery."
-
"How's our patient today?"
"Are you one of Georgie's doctors?" Ed asked.
"Actually, I'm his boss," Baile smiled. "Are you one of his brothers?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"Why, you're just as polite as George, here," she complimented him, hiding her worries. "He hasn't moved at all? Opened hi eyes?"
"No. Sorry."
Bailey sighed, good humor exhausted. "It's okay. I'll sit with him for a few minutes if you need to get anything."
"I got it, Dr. Bailey. I wanted to update his charts anyway," Alex shrugged from the dorrway.
-
"Georgie, remember when you were six an' you went missin' for a week? Prob'ly not, docs said th' trauma'd make you repress 'r somethin'. Well, me 'n Ed, we wasn't playin' near ya like Mom said we ought. Later, once I quit bein' glad it wasn' me in the hospital, I realized...he never took kids with people watchin'. If I just listened to Mom, I coulda saved you."
-
It was quiet, and dim, not truly dark. His hand was warm. He was otherwise cold and pleasantly numb. George knew he was in the hospital, knew his brothers were there, knew he had almost died from a subacute subdermal hematoma in conjunction with massive hemhorraging and smaller traumas. He knew Bailey was worried he wouldn't wake up.
He was awake, though. He had heard his brothers' tearful confessions, remorse, and fierce love for him. He had heard Alex check on him. He relaxed in the knowledge that here, he was safe; here, he was loved. He opened his eyes.
-
"George, you plannin' on joinin' the land of the livin' any time soon? Your brothers have been really worried." Alex paused. "The hospital's been worried, too. The nurses fight to take your room, Grey and Stevens aren't allowed near your case because they burst into tears whenever they see you. Yang almost got taken off, too. Not me, though. It feels...almost like it's wrong, for me to push it back. Like I..."
"They really burst into tears?"
"GEORGE!"
- Mood:
inspired, I tell you - Music:still none, darnit.
As soon as I figure out how to post it, I will >.< ...
- Mood:
positively serene, in fact - Music:still none. need to get my nano.
- Location:The computer...where else?
- Mood:
moody - Music:None, yet
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