Hello there was going to post this earlier but had a problem with my broadband.
Here we go another part - though think I should put a little not to say that Alec or Max will not be putting in a physical appearance as this is the story of how and why Dean's DNA got picked up by Manticore. Hope that doesn't make anyone who does decide to read this turn away or those who do read it won't be too disappointed as I am warning you in advance about this.
Dean Winchester was bored. It had gone past ten and he had nothing to do, and for the life of him he could get to sleep, not without the sound of someone else breathing in the bed next to him.
Christ, he had been sharing a room with Sammy for too damn long.
He hobbled down the corridor to see if he could find a TV or someone to talk to whom he could have an actual conversation with or wouldn’t just pat him on the head and tell him to go back to his room, though he doubted he’d find anyone like that at this time of night in kiddy town.
“Hello?” he said as he found an open door which was lit with the glow of a flickering TV.
“Yeah?” came the response.
Dean inched into the room. There was a girl lying on the bed flicking through various channels.
“You got a TV?” Dean asked. “That sucks.”
“Excuse me,” she said with a casual turn of her head which allowed her to get a slightly better look at him.
“Not for you obviously,” Dean said, trying to explain his remark. “The one in my room is broken.”
She shrugged. “Not my room.”
Dean smiled as he started to make his way over to the chair closest to the door. “Okay, you won’t mind if I join you, then.”
She started to channel surf again. “No skin off my nose.”
“I’m Dean by the way,” he said as he tried to get comfortable.
“Don’t care,” she replied, not taking her eyes off of the screen. After a second, “Gracie.”
“Okay… Gracie. What are you in for?”
“Who says I’m in for anything?”
Dean quickly looked around the room. He didn’t see anyone else or to be honest anything that said the room was occupied other than the body of the teenage girl who was currently working her way through the limited selection of channels on the TV. “What, did you decide to break into the pediatric wing of a hospital just to watch TV?”
“Did I ask for your opinion?”
“No,” Dean replied. “Just giving it for free. Is that Creep Show you just passed?”
She flicked back a few channels. “Nope, Tales from the Crypt.”
“Okay,” he said as she seemed to settle on that as her viewing choice. “So if you aren’t a ‘prisoner,’ why are you here?”
He took another look around the room. There was definitely no one staying there. “You take a wrong turn or something?”
“Parents are doing the codling thing. Thought I’d leave them to it,” came the reply. “Mom’s the local minister, so they got dispensation to stay after visiting hours are up.”
“Brother or sister?”
“Brother, if it is any of your business,” Gracie said curtly. “You a captive, then?”
“For the night, hopefully.”
Dean nodded, and the two teenagers settled in for a quiet night of watching TV.
“Are these all the potential donors?” Lydecker asked.
“As I said, we are still….”
“Yes identifying material, but what about the gaps in the intel you’ve got on the ones you’ve already found?”
“Not all the test results are not back yet,” Sandeman explained. “That is why there are some lapses in their files. Sending the samples back to Gilette takes time.”
“Right,” Lydecker replied.
“Though, with the information we do have, you should be able to see we have a mix of individuals that will give us all the materials we need to start the work on the X-5’s,” Sandeman said, leaning across the desk. “Or have you been sent here with some excuse for another delay? You know, even after we collect all the materials we need, we are still years away from live births as it is and these interruptions do not help. The military claim they want production to begin as quickly as possible but then they send men like you down here to take up my time, which I can be using more productively or is it this a prelude to another round of ‘lets discuss the budget?”
“No, it isn’t that,” Lydecker said, “but there will be oversight Doctor. There is not going to be any repeats of the X-2’s.”
“I quite agree, and after that disaster, it was agreed that any selection of genetic material would be left in my hands and my team’s hands and not be left to some military committee.”
“Not all of it is your choice,” Lydecker retorted.
Sandeman clenched his jaw. “No, it hasn’t been. But even the material we have been directed to consider has to meet MY standards this time. Anything less is going to be a waste of your, mine and the project’s time.”
“We can agree on that, however, genetic suitability or not, you are going to explain these,” he said throwing down the files.
“We are going to go through every choice here, every possible donor and you are going to tell me why did you picked them.”
“Hi Dean,” John said as he came into the room and Sam jumped on the bed.
“Can I get out of here yet?” Dean asked.
“Doctor been in yet?” John replied.
Dean shook his head. “No, just a nurse. She took some blood and made me do a stupid test thing.”
“Test?” Sam asked as he started tucking into his brother’s lunch.
Dean nodded. “It’s like I’m stuck in school, dude.”
“They gave you a school test?” John asked.
“Yes, sir. She said it was to show if my brain had suffered something -- short term damage that wouldn’t have been picked up by them shining that stupid flashlight in my face last night.”
John peered at his son. “Nothing else? Just a test?”
“Wasn’t even that hard -- couple of math questions and what shape fit in the box. Remember this word and how it fits in a sentence sort of stuff and they had a guy in watching me as I did it taking notes.”
“That seems stupid,” Sam said, interrupting.
“Someone was taking notes?” John asked suspiciously as he had half a mind to scoop the boy out of the bed at that point. “Did he say anything to you?”
“No. Didn’t even ask me questions. Just watched me take the test thing and talk to a couple of nurses who came in and out including the one I asked about the stupid exam.”
“What did she say?” John asked.
“She said they gave me it to see if I could retain information at the cognitive level because, if my brain had received a bump, it might have some short term problems doing that.”
“Not really. Said that she couldn’t see any problems, but different bits of the brain do different things. That’s why she made me do lots of questions and stuff, asked me how I liked school. But the guy with the note pad – nothing. Just left when she did. But he wasn’t a social worker. Too well dressed for it.”
“Wait here,” John said, waking into the hall to find someone.
“Excuse me,” he said, finding a nurse. “My son said you gave him a math test.”
The nurse smiled. “Oh yes, it was one of the tests requested.”
“Why? What does how he is doing in school help you?” John asked.
The nurse peered at him. “The doctors here requested it. Your son was hit by a car, wasn’t he?”
“Yes, he was, so how does that tie in how he does in math and why was someone in there taking notes about him.”
The nurse looked from left to right, making sure that no one else was about. “Okay, I don’t think I should say this, because even though he is getting the regular treatments, the testing they are doing is a little out of the ordinary. That is why there was someone in there taking notes. He wasn’t really watching your son, but how your son took to the test we gave him.”
“No, it’s nothing bad, honestly. I’d be worried about what they were doing if it wasn’t for the fact is the only invasive sampling they were asking for was blood and tissue samples. It is just some of the rest of it isn’t really regular practice, like that test. But I think the idea of those things that your son was made to do is to stop expensive testing or that is what those city docs are trying to prove.”
“So you gave him a school test?”
“With head trauma, if we can’t see concussion and there is no drop in the results of the test when we make him repeat it coupled with the CT that has been ordered for this afternoon, it means that there is no need to worry about any hidden brain injury.”
“So you are just being thorough?”
The nurse nodded. “I think the idea is in the future that doctors might be able to target where to concentrate testing. Though to be honest I’m not too sure.”
“So giving him a math test now means that they are less likely to prod his head?”
The nurse nodded. “Or if they have to they have a better idea where exactly to start looking even if there is any change as different parts of the brain is responsible for things, like talking is one part and dreaming another.”
John bit his lip. The less chance of anything wrong with Dean been missed through the use of a simple math test sounded like a good idea. Best deal with this now than possibly risk his son’s health and well being due to some time bomb brain bleed rearing its ugly head in some motel room in the middle of nowhere.
“Those visiting doctors are trying it out with lots of the patients here. I think it’s their latest thing -- cuts down on expensive tests and still makes sure that the patient gets what they need,” the nurse explained.
“So it’s a trade off. Your guys get training in this and those other doctors get to see if their idea works?”
The nurse nodded. “If it works, I’m guessing the HMO’s will jump on it, even if the foundation just reports a summary of preliminary positive findings. Anything to stop you getting a CT scan if you need it. But as I said, none of the tests they are requesting on patients is invasive, except for the blood and tissue samples, and none of them have any real effect on your son, except…”
“Thinking about it, they are requesting more than we’d usually do. In fact, they are asking for more blood samples on a whole load of patients we have here.”
“So it isn’t just Dean?”
The nurse shook her head. “No, but those city docs haven’t done anything I’d say was unethical.”
“So you’re not worried?” John asked cagily.
“I don’t think so. The actual treatment is routine,” she said before smiling, “and what are they going to do with a couple of more vials of your son’s blood -- clone him?”
“Dad, do I have to stay?” Dean begged as John made a move to leave.
“Dean, the nurse said they’d probably need to check out your knee this afternoon. Inflammation hasn’t gone down enough yet.”
Dean pouted. “Don’t want to stay.”
“I know, dude,” John said, “but think how you’d feel if something was wrong.”
“But you said we would be going soon,” Dean begged.
“It can wait,” John said firmly. “I’ll call Bobby. He can deal with it.”
“Why, Dad? You said this time I could go along,” Dean whined, sounding younger than his fifteen years.
“Because your knee is still swollen,” John answered.
“I got hit by an SUV -- it isn’t going to be happy Dad!”
“Dean Winchester!” John snapped, causing his oldest son to drop his head and Sam to turn to his brother with the spoon of chocolate pudding still in mouth.
“Sorry, sir,” Dean said quietly.
John sighed, putting a hand on Dean’s shoulder. “Dean-O, I know you don’t want to be here, but I’m not going to risk you being less than one hundred percent. You got me?”
“Next time, you can come, okay?” John said. “But let them test out your knee, okay?”
“They haven’t asked you any questions apart from that test thing they gave you?”
Dean shook his head, “No, sir. Haven’t even asked me anything about the car that hit me or sicced the hospital social worker on me or anything. They’ve pretty much left me alone. Just the nurse this morning; she said that once the swelling went down, I’d get some more tests.”
“Anything in particular?”
“Nothing invasive, she said -- just some x-rays, a CT scan, and they took some blood and something to do with sound waves.”
“Probably an ultrasound to see if there is any soft tissue damage.” .
“Don’t they do something like that for pregnant girls?” Sam said with a grin on his face.
“What?” Dean asked. He turned to his father. “Dad?”
“They think you’re a pregnant girl!” Sam said in a sing song voice.
“Sam, shut up.”
“Dean’s having a baby, Dean’s having a baby,” Sammy sang with a grin on his face as the orderly came in to the room to take away the food tray.
“Sammy, shut up!” Dean said through clenched teeth.
“No way! They think you’re a girl.”
“Sammy, so help me,” Dean said moving as fast as he could across the bed to grab hold of his brother, though Sam easily got out of the way.
“Dad, please,” Dean begged his father as Sam continued to dance around the room crowing at the top of his lungs that his brother was a girl.
John ran a hand over his face. “Boys, behave, now!”
The orderly smiled as he watched the two boys obey their father. He picked up the plastic pudding spoon from the tray in a gloved hand, placing it in a plastic bag before writing on it ‘S. Winchester’.