Chapter Text
“Do I have permission to heal you?”
“Do I have permission to heal you?”
“Do I have permission to heal you?”
The same words, repeated over and over. Ever since I gained powers, Carol - my adoptive “mother” - has filled every minute of my time with volunteer hours at Brockton Central Hospital. At this point, even the worst afflictions are nothing but a monotonous ennui.
I walked to the next room of the hospital, where the newest half-dead body lay on a bed. A pale girl my age with long, black hair and clothes stained with various fluids which really should’ve been cleaned off.
Her file listed her name, Taylor Hebert, and contained her father’s signature to approve parahuman healing. Seeing this, I brought my hand to her exposed forehead and allowed my power to sense the girl’s biology. Whatever happened to her had already advanced to sepsis: to kill her infections, the immune system had released enough toxins to induce organ failure.
Contusions, cuts, sepsis, necrosis: child’s play for Panacea, but this was still a bit much. “Damn, who messed you up?”
I repaired her organs and stopped the ongoing immune response, then forced the bacteria, fungi, and parasites’ cells to burst. I increased the adrenal glands’ production of cortisol, waking Hebert from septic shock. As her brain increased activity in the prefrontal cortex and brainstem, she woke up with a high level of stress. This highlighted a part of the brain that most people don’t have: a Corona Pollentia.
“Well that’s a break in the monotony,” I murmured to myself.
“What-” she slurred, coming to her senses. “Who are you? Where am I?”
Taylor smacked my hand away from her forehead. “Why were you grabbing my forehead,” she scowled before blinking. “My eyes - I can see clearly. Holy crap, you’re Panacea.”
“Uh-huh,” I drawled. “I won’t ask why, but most of your organs had already failed by the time I healed you. Various infections brought about sepsis, so I had to reconstruct your eyes and most of your mouth.”
“Oh, well thanks,” She responded in a monotone. “You aren’t unsettled by any of that sort of stuff?” Her voice took a curious tone.
“Sure, go needling all of my personal experiences.” I glared at my patient before sighing. For some reason, I felt like answering her question, “It all blends together at some point; this is hardly the worst case I’ve seen.” A moment later, I continued, “Thanks for asking though, I don’t even remember when anyone’s even considered that.”
“That’s-” she grimaced slightly, “not healthy.”
“No shit, Hebert.” I yawned and gave her a clipboard and pen, “Here’s a summary of your visit, with my signature confirming that you’ve been given parahuman healing. You’re free to go. The hospital staff contacted your father, but he hung up after giving permission for you to be healed. Sorry.”
I felt a twinge of sympathy towards her. I related to having an absent father figure, and hoped that she was at least safe in her home. Unfortunately, Carol had gone ballistic last time she found out that I’d asked about a patient’s home life - something about being intrusive.
Getting out of the hospital bed, Taylor muttered something under her breath and then offered, “Well if you ever want to vent about your work, or something, I can give you my home number. Think of it as payment for healing me.”
Surprised, I responded, “You know what, sure. I get the sense that both of us need some more human connection.” I gave a rueful smile.
She hummed in agreement and wrote a number on a sticky note that was in the room.
“Well, I’ll call you sometime, Miss Hebert.”
“Bye, Panacea.”
As she left the room, I caught a glimpse of a grin on her face. I didn’t understand why I was smiling like a fool after noticing that.
“Definitely a break in the monotony.”