BLUE SUN ROOM FAN FICTION - DRAMA

JETFLAIR

The Losing Side, chapter 19
Sunday, May 21, 2006

We get a look at Lee's struggle to find an acceptable way to keep Mal alive.


CATEGORY: FICTION    TIMES READ: 2793    RATING: 9    SERIES: FIREFLY

You guys are going to curse my name, because this chapter does nothing to address the cliffhanger of the last one :) But this part got so long that I needed to make if a chapter of its own.

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Lee looked up appraisingly at Mal, who was standing quietly in front of him with his head up and a steady, questioning expression on his face. He’d gained back much of the weight he’d lost, and there was a spirited, living person behind those eyes.

Lee couldn’t help remembering the last time he’d seen Sergeant Reynolds; sitting in a private office in the prison control room, he and a small team were watching surveillance footage of his unmoving form in suicide watch.

“I’m afraid not, sir. All I can tell you is that unless we do something soon, he will die,” said Dr. Morgan, the head of the medical team that had treated Mal. “Without taking at least some food, he simply won’t survive.”

“Is he catatonic?” asked Lee.

“It’s hard to categorize his condition,” said Dr. Nguyen, an expert psychologist Lee often turned to with difficult situations. “He’s clearly suffering from severe emotional trauma, but beyond that-” he threw his hands in the air.

“He’s grieving,” said Lee soberly. “I understand why he’s in this state, that’s not the issue. What I need to know is what’s going on in his head and what’s making him die. Is he doing this deliberately?” Lee asked. “Suicide, or some kind of protest?”

“No,” said head nurse Kelli Pitts softly. She hesitated, finally deciding to continue. “I’ve been in there, giving him shots and the like. Quordras, the swing shift guard, has managed to break through his shell enough to get him to drink water sometimes.” She looked at Lee, and he could see the emotion in her eyes. “He’s not trying to fight anybody, he’s not trying to kill himself, it’s like he just died inside.”

Lee sighed. “So we don’t know what’s wrong with him, medically. Anyone got any ideas that come close?”

“Sir- have you ever heard of the Nazi holocaust on Earth that was?” asked Nguyen.

Lee looked at once sad and bitter, and the tone of his reply was sarcastic. “I run a concentration camp for heaven’s sake! I know my history.” He paused, continuing in a more forgiving tone. “A little too well. Trying to avoid the whole doomed to repeat history syndrome is rather personal, given my job.”

Nguyen nodded. “In response to unimaginable loss and abuse, some prisoners would enter a state of indifference. Even though their bodies were still alive, their spirits would die. They would no longer suffer from hunger or pain, or care what their fate was. They were known as musselmen. While I don’t believe Reynolds is quite at that level, it’s the closest thing I can point to.”

“Treatment options?” Lee inquired.

“Counseling is a wash – nobody and nothing is getting through to him. We’ve had him on every possible psychoactive drug. The will to live is possibly the strongest drive man has, but once it’s broken-” Dr. Nguyen shrugged. “I’m out of options, and I honestly don’t expect him to recover.”

“So what are my options, medically?” Lee asked.

Doctor Gary Morgan, head of the surgical team responsible for treating Mal, had been following the conversation with growing concern. “Limited,” replied Dr. Morgan. “We can fail to intervene, and without some major change in his mental state, he’ll die of starvation. Or, we can pull him into the hospital and hook him up to a feeding tube.”

Lee found himself recoiling internally at the idea, but he found it preferable to allowing Mal to die of starvation alone in a cell. “Seems plain enough,” he said. “Take him in. He’s survived enough that I – I just can’t see letting him die.”

Dr. Morgan was silent for a long time, thinking. When he finally spoke, his voice had a different quality to it; cautious, questioning. “Sir, do you care about this guy’s well-being?”

“Of course,” replied Lee.

“Genuinely?” pressed the doctor.

Lee nodded, replying quietly, “Yes, I feel for him and I feel responsible for him.”

Dr. Morgan stood and paced around the room for a minute before addressing Lee. “Sir, we’d be torturing him. I’m not arguing your decision, but you should know what you’re ordering. Our options for force-feeding are unpleasant and invasive. We can surgically implant a gastric feeding tube in the abdomen, and keep him permanently in restraints to prevent him from removing it. That’s technically the humane option.”

“The alternative is a NG tube. Restrain him and run a tube into his nose, down his throat and esophagus and into the stomach. It’s a terrifying procedure at best, because the tube cuts off breathing and causes gagging and choking as it’s inserted. Without his full cooperation and trust it would be very painful and horribly unpleasant, and we’d have to repeat it every time we fed him. Even done as carefully and humanely as possible-"

“Dear God,” whispered Lee. He looked up at the doctor, as though pleading for a better way. Kelli was sitting quietly in the corner and clearly fighting tears. “That’s barbaric.”

“Sir,” said the nurse, “I’ve spent a lot of time with him. When he’s out of it enough not to think too much about where he is, he’s a very funny, very sweet person.” Tears welled up in her eyes. “It’s hard, going in there and seeing him so grief-stricken, so – dead. But I don’t think there’s any way I could begin to handle putting him through something that horrible. I can’t look into those eyes and do it, I’d – I’d rather kill him myself.”

“Psychologically, I can’t think of anything worse we could do to him,” chimed in Dr. Nguyen. “He wouldn’t be in this state if he weren’t suffering from extreme trauma. Putting him through that is pretty much the last thing we should consider if the goal is for this guy to make some sort of mental recovery.”

Dr. Morgan nodded. Lee looked at him and spoke firmly. “You will never do that to him, or to any of my prisoners. I don’t care if it’s invasive, you do this surgically.”

Dr. Morgan looked both relieved and troubled. “Sir, that’s where the technically humane part comes in. An implanted tube wouldn’t be uncomfortable, and we can easily control any post-op pain. But you didn’t see him when he was in the hospital. We kept him so heavily drugged he was unconscious most of the time, and it wasn’t just because he was in pain.” He stopped and sat down heavily.

“Watching him regain consciousness was one of the most heartbreaking things-” he shook his head at the memory. “He’d wake up, and he’d look human and relaxed enough. Then he’d try to move and realize where he was and that he was restrained, and he’d get this – this defeated look in his eyes. He’d close his eyes and just lie there looking so miserable that none of us could stand it, and we’d sedate him again. He never fought, he’d just – endure it. The single advantage of an NG tube is that it’s temporary, and we could house him loose in the hospital housing unit.”

“Sir-” broke in the nurse softly. Lee turned his gaze to her. “We left him conscious one time, for about 24 hours. I walked in to check on him, and he’d been trying to work himself loose. He looked at me with these tears in his eyes and didn’t say a word. I asked him what the matter was, and without any hope whatsoever, so quiet I could hardly even hear him, he asked me to let him go.”

“Did you?” asked Lee.

She nodded. “I called in a couple of guards, and I released him. He looked so grateful I wanted to cry. After a while I doped him and strapped him down again once he was out.”

“Do you have to restrain him?” Lee asked. “I don’t like the sound of this.”

Dr. Morgan nodded. “Too dangerous not to - he could hurt himself, or my staff. We don’t carry weapons, and there is no way I’m exposing my staff to a mentally unstable prisoner with a history of murder and good reason to hate us all, no matter how much I feel for the guy.”

Lee flinched. The warden in him recognized without question that the doctor was right. He stared at Mal’s unmoving form on the screen, cursing internally as the doctor’s simple statement rung in his ears. Sir, we’d be torturing him. He’d rather let him die than make him suffer any more, and yet he felt like Mal had survived too much to simply slip away for no good reason. He deserved a chance at a life, a chance to experience freedom and happiness.

“So, as a human, not a doctor, you’re telling me it would be better to let him die?”

Dr. Morgan shook his head slowly in confusion, clearly wrestling with the decision as much as Lee. “Sir, he’s been through so much – You have no idea how badly he was injured, how much work it took my whole team to repair the damage and make sure he’d make a full recovery. I don’t know how many hours we spent in surgery, or how many experts I called in to work on him, and he had to recover from that, he has recovered from it. To throw all that away now-” he threw his hands in the air. “I like this guy. I think he’s worth saving, I just hate the thought of making his life even more of a hell to do it.”

“So he was pleasant to deal with?” asked Lee, slightly surprised. He wouldn’t have pegged Mal as a particularly good patient.

Dr. Morgan snorted with a slight grin. “Hardly. I’ve lost track of the many painful deaths he’s wished upon me, and I’ve learned some most inventive curses from him. He’s bitter, and scared and hurt. But catch him when he’s not quite conscious, not remembering too well where he is and why, and there’s a very brave, very pleasant person under there.” He winked at Kelli with a fond smile. “My female staff would be quick to assure you that he’s cute and funny as well– I humor them.”

“There is one other possibility,” said Dr. Nguyen. “In my research, I ran across a government-run academy doing some pretty amazing stuff in the field of psychiatry. They mainly work with children and teenagers, but there’s always the possibility that they could help him.”

Lee raised his eyebrows. “This academy – would they be exploring options outside your realm of expertise?” Dr. Nguyen nodded. “And so……would these treatments be considered experimental?” asked Lee.

“I would assume so,” said Dr. Nguyen. “We’ve tried all normal protocols.”

Lee sighed and shook his head. “Look….I’ll let this man die before I’ll add being used as a psychiatric lab rat to the list of horrors he’s endured. Call it my cynical side coming out, but I wouldn’t trust a research psychologist to have the best interests of an enemy prisoner in mind.”

Lee considered how convenient it would be for him if Mal did die. His problems would be solved with no risk to his career, and he wouldn’t have his murder on his conscience. Then he thought back to a moment months ago in his office, and kicked himself for even entertaining the idea.

Mal had looked at him with a sad acceptance and grace in his deep, pain-filled blue eyes and in a soft voice that cracked slightly, given Lee permission to kill him. That one simple statement had stopped his heart in his chest, and it was in that moment that he’d decided that there was no way he or anyone else was going to kill this man.

Lee had buried his face in his hands until he knew he could trust his own reactions and then made the only promise that he could. "Not to worry, son. I'll be living with this for the rest of my life, and my fancy career's no use to me if I can't look myself in the eye. I just can't see a path out of this that sets right with me. I'll see you don't suffer in the process." If only he’d known how difficult that vow would prove to keep.

Lee stood and addressed Dr. Morgan. “How long until we absolutely have to decide?” he asked. “Do I have a day or two?”

Morgan nodded. “You expecting something to change?”

Lee shook his head. “No. This doesn’t work for me. I’m going to find another option. I’m going to go through every file and every record I have on this guy until I find even the slightest shred of information that I might be able to use to shake him out of this, if I have to stay up all day and all night to do it.”

And now, against all odds, here was Malcolm Reynolds standing in his office returning his gaze steadily, tense but self-assured and very much alive.

COMMENTS

Sunday, May 21, 2006 1:18 AM

AMDOBELL


Oh wow, I wept with this part. Very much loved how the gaolers are wanting to save Mal not cause him more pain. This was awesome and emotionally very touching and powerful. Can't wait for more! *Xie xie ni*, Ali D :~)
You can't take the sky from me

Sunday, May 21, 2006 4:56 AM

LVS2READ


OMG! You had me scared there for a minute! The Academy! No!!! Oh, good. Not an option. Whew! *g*

I really do like how you're portraying Lee and the doctors as humane beings, not just nameless/faceless government goons who couldn't care less about their prisoners. There are enough of those types in the 'verse, so it's nice to see the flipside.

Looking forward to what happens next!

"I love my captain."

Sunday, May 21, 2006 11:43 AM

MAL4PREZ


Wow, so many tie-ins. The academy, yikes!! But I'm glad that Lee found Zoe instead. Smart guy.

This is a really moving history of Mal. Bring on the next!

Sunday, May 21, 2006 8:30 PM

BLUEEYEDBRIGADIER


Well now...this was some powerful stuff here, jetflair. It's strange - but wondeful - to see Alliance officers and servicepeople caring about the welfare of those who were trying to kill them mere months before.

And I love the line "Counseling's a wash"....Freudian slip to the main part of this series perhaps? *winks*

BEB

Wednesday, June 7, 2006 3:03 PM

GUILDSISTER


I would have liked this intertwined with the story real time, rather than in flashback, but I'm glad you wrote it no matter where it appeared! You addressed everything I'd wondered about and do so very, very well. Good writing, good story, good job! Thanks for sharing.


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