Part 3

Meanwhile, in the Surgery the operating team was working on the patient and discussing their problems treating him.

"What's his BP?"

"90/50, holding steady. I have more whole blood standing by."

"OK, going in. Damn! Suction! I need retractors. Where's he bleeding from? Never mind; I see it. Sutures."

"That's probably not the only spot. God, what happened to this guy?"

"He's lucky to be alive. I usually see this kind of damage only on corpses." The comment came from a nurse who did occasional work in the Coroner's Office.

"I've seen cases like this myself, usually female. The people who do this kind of work tend to kill their victims after they get bored with them, if the victim doesn't die before then."

"I suppose that explains the burns."

"And the pins; are you sure you got them all?"

"I hope so, but we can always check later with an X-ray. I'm more concerned about loss of function and sensation. Poor bastard's probably never going to be able to make love."

"It looks like we got the bleeding stopped; how are his vitals?"

"He's weak but stable."

"OK, I'm closing him up."

# # #

Quinn looked up as the door opened. "Will he live?"

"It's too soon to tell; he lost a lot of blood, he's undernourished, he's been beaten, burned, tortured . . . I'm not sure why he's alive now, considering what he's been through in the last 6-8 weeks. Not to mention what withdrawal is doing to him," the doctor said. "If he's still alive in 12 hours, he might make it. Might."

Quinn looked at his watch and sighed. "I have a meeting I'm needed at in two hours. May I use your phone to call my driver, and then may I see him?" The doctor nodded and led him to the nurse's station where he made his call, and told him which room the young man was in.

John Quinn, international businessman, entered the room, but it was Qui-Gon Jinn, Jedi Master that approached the bed and its occupant. He placed one hand on the young man's forehead, sending healing energy and trying to get a sense of his emotions. Pain and despair hit him like a storm wave, and he shuddered trying to control his reaction and calm the other man. His other hand moved to the place the pain was worst, and he was unsurprised to find it was the man's genitals. His senses noted the surgeons had missed one of the many safety and straight pins which had been embedded there, and he used his powers to gently ease it out.

He also noted other injuries the doctors had missed, probably because it hadn't occurred to them to check for internal burns where there weren't any external ones. He wondered how on Earth, or any other planet for that matter, the man had managed to sell himself repeatedly on a daily basis when any sort of penetration deeper than one or two inches should have had him screaming in agony. Qui-Gon drew deeply on the Force and healed the delicate tissues of penis, testicles, colon, and prostate so there would be no scarring or loss of sensitivity.

Footsteps in the hallway alerted him to move his hand before the nurse saw him, and when she told him his driver had arrived, John Quinn was firmly back in place.

###

He cleared up the problems with his holdings and spent some time making overseas telephone calls to check other potential trouble spots. Having discovered everything would run smoothly without his personal attention for the next few weeks, he returned to the clinic and spoke at length with the doctor about how her patient was doing, if he'd awakened yet, and what sort of long-term care he should arrange for him.

"I haven't got the lab work back yet, but we're pumping him full of antibiotics anyway, due to all the infections and septicemia we found," she told him. "From the symptoms he was showing, he probably gave his customers more than just pleasure; VD's an ongoing problem with the city's whores of both sexes. He's not awake yet, and as much as I'd like to see it, a part of me's glad he can't feel the pain of withdrawal. As for long-term care, you'll want to remember his mind will need as much, if not more, care than his body. You'll want to hire a nurse/therapist; he'll be bedridden for several weeks, and need time to regain his full strength. Of course, all this depends on him surviving to be discharged; we're more hopeful with each hour that passes without complications developing, but he's far from out of danger."

Despite that less-than-optimistic prognosis, the young man continued to improve, even though he didn't awaken for four days. Once he did wake up, another problem arose; he apparently couldn't remember any language except Russian, much to the distress of the staff. Fortunately one of the nurses could speak to and understand him, as could Quinn, who spent some time and no little expense hiring a nurse/therapist and psychiatrist who were fluent in Russian. A week after he awoke the young man, whose name they still didn't know (when asked he would say, "I'm a whore; I've always been a whore, and I'll always be a whore. Call me whatever you please," in the same flat tone that made Quinn suspect it had been beaten into him), was discharged from the clinic. They went to the airport and boarded Quinn's private jet, and after a few hours flight, landed in another country. After passing through Customs, they entered the waiting car and were driven to Quinn's plantation, where the young man was promptly put to bed and quickly fell asleep.