After eating, Damon calmly walked back to the ward. Although a week had passed and they had accomplished much, complications arose almost daily. Despite their best efforts, Mimi had died three more times because no one was there to boost her—Wulfe had been sedated and was literally feeding his lifeforce to Mimi, endangering himself.
Some of the Salvatores had been by Mimi's side, offering his lifeforce, rage, or anything that might help; however, during busy periods, she sometimes didn't make it. The longest she went without revival was eighteen hours—hours that felt agonizingly long.
Adding to their workload, Mariella required three sets of four people daily for specific exercises, even though she remained largely incapacitated. Mimosa, Shadow, Elena, and Katherine, still suffering from fever and infection, also demanded attention. One team cleaned their uteruses and abdominal cavities every other day, further taxing their resources.
Bran had been moved, and Damon primarily used different strains of velvet—a sedative produced by their fangs—to keep the females subdued; the heavy animal tranquilizers were avoided as they profoundly paralyzed Mimi's already compromised system.
Damon sat down, grabbed his tablet to review the latest results, and noticed numbers five and seven sitting at the table. Wearing collectors and draining new antibiotics via blood tubes, their task was simple: attach collectors, smell a tube, and determine if the antibiotics needed changing; if so, they synthesized them. This was performed daily by several Salvatores, usually in pairs.
While not all antibiotics required changing, the persistent, nasty infection demanded constant vigilance, especially given the antibiotic's short half-life, necessitating daily production and dilution. This was a considerable undertaking.
Another pair, numbers four and eight, focused on producing sedatives and other necessary items. Consequently, four individuals dedicated their time to dental work daily, while the rest cared for the females.
Two Salvatores were on special duty, caring for Mariella. They rotated shifts, performing dental work—this time, focusing on her tendons, muscles, and ligaments to improve elasticity. This was followed by strenuous physical therapy to stretch her limbs and body, a process that took hours and left the team exhausted.
Even at night, several remained to monitor her condition. Mimi's boosters added to the constant activity, and Taylor, Tim, and the non-medical staff assisted with daily tasks and patient care. Once the permit arrived, everything should improve. Meanwhile, Will worked while Damon discreetly removed Jarod and Miss Parker, unable to tolerate them because of his jealousy.
Samuel, as always, had his own plans; the feverish females couldn't be placed in incubators, despite his preparations. Damon sighed, knowing that once antibiotics took effect, they'd assess the situation. He maintained his clinical focus, lest self-hate paralyze him. At least progress was being made.
Number Two approached, reporting, "Mimi's bloodwork shows slight improvement, less than others, but it's like pouring water into a dry well; it takes time to see results."
Number One, taking a breath, replied, "I know it's hard to see her so frail, but there is improvement. It's been just over a week. Normally, she'd be sedated for months. Without her powers, we'll just have to wait and see."
He sensed Number Two was seeking reassurance, less clinical and more concerned. Damon's honesty, devoid of sugarcoating, was the best approach.
Half an hour later, it was time for rounds, as the dentals had been prepared. The guys were either hanging or diluting them. While many were eager to sink their fangs into the females' necks, the risk was that the teeth might overwhelm them, causing them to shut down and not produce velvet, so females would wake up, and as their inability to tolerate touch made everything so hard, it might also causing panic and rejection.
Therefore, this method was necessary for now, unless a female's condition worsened to the point of requiring direct vein access. Meanwhile, the antibiotics were concentrated and awaiting dilution. Almost all who could, including Magnum, had produced a bump.
This kept Damon busy manipulating, refining the bumps, analyzing them, and deciding on dosage and placement. The bumps were in injectable form—semi-centrifuged, thickened, and suitable for intra-abdominal placement. They would be injected via large syringes and trocars into the females' abdominal cavities one to three times daily, boosting caloric intake and providing nutrients.
Damon knew that once the females were transferred back to the pack house, he would have access to better analyzers for further refinement and the addition of nutritional concentrates. Each female suffered severe vampire anemia and received significant blood transfusions; the numbers improved slowly.
In addition to treating the females, they also had to donate blood for other uses: healing skin wounds (Mimi's deep wounds, Mariella's tendons and muscles, and other genital and internal injuries).
Damon found satisfaction in each small healing success, knowing that the process would demand considerable time and patience. Once the females reached a point where they could be awakened, the real challenges would begin, as they weren't likely to be compliant.
Damon gazed at Elena's sleeping face. Despite their tumultuous history, he knew this Elena wasn't the one who had betrayed him, driven their daughter to suicide (though it was Stefan's daughter, not his), and then drank herself to death.
This Elena was still innocent, and Damon wanted to keep her that way. Yes, she'd endured some terrible times, but he'd grown closer to her, learning her anew. She was his concubine. They had offspring, but the burning love the TV series portrayed never existed; she was merely another acquisition, not his destined mate. Now, however, he wasn't so sure, as he was learning just how many one can love and have fun with.
Meanwhile, Number Seven hung a new bag of antibiotics, saying, "Her infection is worse than Mimi's; I've again changed the formula because there are new germs, or perhaps they haven't fully manifested. Interestingly, a deep scan of her mind… well, I'm not sure, but…"
Damon nodded and asked, "What?"
Seven replied, "It seems she and Katherine are developing their own alpha power, seemingly stemming from Mimi. At some point, she gave them seeds, and they've begun to sprout. It's not fully developed yet, but it's palpable."
Damon raised his eyebrows. It was good the pack had more female power, but Mimi had done this without telling him. Fine. He might need to combine all their alpha powers and redistribute them. Each would develop their own, more or less, but he'd gain a portion of these new powers—another boost from Mimi, though later.
He remembered how their alpha powers had once been merged at over 70%, until Mariella's jealousy ripped them apart. If he had been stronger, if he'd stopped her, those powers would have solidified and become unbreakable. Now, however, they were merged at best by 11 percent, oscillating. But in time, who knew what they could accomplish?
Damon asked, "And her skin—have we healed those ulcers on her back?"
Numbers Three and Four turned Elena slightly, peeled back the thick, soft dressing, revealing that the ulcers were healing but not fully; her skin was red, thin, and delicate. Damon bit his wrist, dripped blood onto the delicate skin, hoping to help, then secured the dressing and returned Elena to her original, slightly elevated position on her back in the padded bed.
He nodded, and they moved to Katherine. Katherine had no skin issues, but her vagina was not fully healed internally; her tampons, filled with Damon's blood, were replaced five times a day. This was a delicate operation to avoid further tearing of her thin mucous membranes.
Ten informed Damon that Katherine's antibiotics were working; her blood tests showed slight improvement, but she was extremely thin and worn out. Damon recalled their past passion, the spark that had once existed between them.
Stefan had, of course, interfered, but Katherine had cared less about Stefan, preferring to tease and torment Damon for centuries—she was sometimes as vicious as the Originals, keeping him perpetually busy. Then she had died, or been killed by Klaus around the time of Damon's first "flank wedding."
This version of Katherine remembered everything, yet she was different. Reddington, the fallen angel, had transformed these versions of Elena and Katherine into jewelry, just as Bridgette had once saved nine other versions of Damon.
It was time for a new start. Damon hoped he could heal both women; he didn't hate these versions, as they were not the same, and he wanted to help them. He planned to marry them eventually—perhaps with a nice, long "flank wedding"—though the details remained uncertain.
Maintaining his medical focus, he listened to the report on Katherine's vaginal tearing and the absence of healing factors in her blood, meaning she had depleted her supply.
It would be some time before she could produce more, accelerating her healing. Until then, Damon's and the Salvatores' blood, along with Katherine's protectors'—lepards'—blood would be used to heal her.
Next, there was Mimosa, who was also asleep. Damon watched her, listening as Four explained her antibiotics had been changed because her infection was severe and mutated almost daily.
Damon viewed the infection almost as a living creature fighting his efforts to heal her, giving him added resolve. It was a formidable, almost invincible enemy, and he was determined to fight it with everything he had. Much clinical jargon flew around as the doctors discussed each patient.
A few human doctors also visited, but they sensed the tension in the ward, as Will had explained that the supernatural beings were highly protective and it was best not to disturb them excessively.
Shadow was as critical as Mimosa; both had suffered severe trauma, and their infections were proving difficult to overcome. Damon didn't want to dwell on the dog sperm found in their vaginas and the remnants of their uteruses. Surgery was postponed because they were too fragile; this was a stabilization and healing phase, with surgery considered only later if necessary. They couldn't withstand the additional stress of an operation.
He watched the two women—they had begun as wolves, but their human side had grown over a century, and they were more than just animals. He didn't even try to imagine what they had endured when those test results came in.
Mental recovery would come later, and Damon knew it would take a toll on everyone. Then, his self-hatred might flare, and he couldn't be sure if he could endure Mariella's scorn, though he knew he deserved it. He remembered every minute of fucking with those other women, finding only comfort in the memories of their agonized pleas as he tortured and ultimately killed them.
But would that be enough for Mariella? Would she believe him, or would their relationship be irrevocably altered? That thought broke his heart; the pain was unlike anything he'd felt in a long time, not since Mimi had stopped loving him.
As they moved on, Mariella, in partial traction, was their focus. Number Five offered Damon a piece of her ligament; he tasted it, letting his fangs analyze it, wishing he could do more. However, the situation was almost overwhelming, so Charles, using his expertise in their linked biology, created the best possible substances for Mariella's treatment.
This added to Damon's stress, but Mariella's recovery was paramount. He would do whatever it took, even allowing Charles to be her savior, despite his reservations.
Damon and his fangs were almost entirely dedicated to Mimi. He could smell her acutely, and tiny pheromone gland nubs were already growing on her neck—a crucial development. These nubs provided him with almost daily updates during their rounds. He needed collectors and a large bag—or even a multipack—as they visited Mimi; his fangs were eager to help, and she needed every bit of assistance he could offer.
Mariella was pale, her hands and legs in traction, an uncomfortable sight, though deep sedation kept her unaware. Damon knew that, however hard they trained her body, her first steps would be agonizing, a painful and time-consuming process.
She might blame him for this, or even refuse to be near him. Stroking her sedated face—a safe act of comfort—brought him some solace, though the knowledge of their once-perfect relationship reduced to this burned his soul. This thought consumed him whenever he was near Mariella, a feeling he knew was shared by others.
Damon had given his opinion on Mariella's tendon stretching—no tweaking needed—and then it was time to go to Mimi. His steps were muffled as he walked to Mimi's bed. Wulfe lay in the next bed, still sedated and recovering from the sacrifice that had nearly cost him his life. Mimi would need him in the coming days.
Damon mused that once, he might have let Wulfe complete the sacrifice, but he had grown and now understood Wulfe's importance to Mimi and to all of them.
However, a cloying smell emanated from Mimi; her infection was worsening, and a headache slammed between his eyes. He placed collectors to his fangs, feeling the substances rush out, slowly easing the pressure and pain, though the flow continued.
Number Three then gave his report on Mimi's blood work, which was poor. Several of her organs were failing, her enzymes were critically low, and there had been little improvement. She had a long way to go before she could be awakened; her fever was burning through everything, and maintaining her current condition was a constant battle.
The infection was nasty, and it had taken a great deal of effort to bring it under even minimal control. Perhaps someday things would improve. Considering what Mimi had been through, what had broken her, Damon couldn't even begin to think how to fix her. Hell, he'd have to fix himself and help those he could before he could even hope to heal her.
Mimi lay partially on her side, her back and hips bearing nasty gashes. Her gaunt, pale face resembled a living skeleton; dark circles, shadows of her ordeal, ringed her eyes. Exhausted and worn out, she seemed to have given her all, yet she persisted.
Multiple IV bags dripped into her arm; a nasogastric tube snaked from her nose. Colin had increased her leprechaun drops to five times daily and reinforced her straps. This was something, but Damon knew that despite her hospital surroundings, the stress of her situation, and her ability to sense pheromones even while sedated, weighed heavily on her.
He hoped things would improve once they returned to Pack's house; even the medbay there felt like home, not a sterile hospital. Meanwhile, Nine briefed the human doctors who accompanied them, educating them on all things supernatural.
Several witches from the Magic House visited, bringing books and literature for study. The Magic House would prove an invaluable link between this hospital and the supernatural community, a welcome connection, as the hospital had recently obtained permits to treat supernatural patients. These patients would cover all costs—most were wealthy—and Damon would establish an account for those with fewer resources, with the Magic House covering any shortfall.
This horrific event, he hoped, would yield something positive. He longed for a time when the sun would shine again, when love would return, and everything would be perfect.