Elizabeth Ariel Godson walked down the streets of New York City, a casually dressed older woman with the air of old powerful blood hanging about her, without a care or a purpose for maybe the sixth time in the entire length of her service. It had been a long service here on Earth, but something inside of her knew that it was coming to an end soon, be it faith or intuition, or maybe both. Gazing at the humans around her, she kept a watchful eye on them all as they passed her by, all of them honed into their technologies and their jobs and their families, not aware of what was walking among them either good or evil. She had something greater than that to keep her going day after week after month after year after decades and centuries. She had undying faith in her Father that she would be called back to her home in due time, when he felt that she was ready. Until then, she was to serve in the capacity that her Father had for her: to heal and to watch over those humans who she could save, and then to give up unto the Father the souls of those who could not be. That was the plan for her, for now at least.

But even she had her moments of doubt, even after all of this time. Well, who could blame her, after the bombshell that her Father dropped on her the last thing that she had seen him. Faith took her only so far, and then love took over. She owed her Father everything, but that... that was the worst thing that he could ever say to her. After what had happened to her for those long years, to reveal that... it nearly shattered her. It was only when she released her second half from her incarceration, and had that familar presence with her all the time to strengthen her and steel her spine. Even now, she could feel her shadowy presence inside of her.

"Dr. Godson!" A long-timer nurse called her out as she walked through the doors of New York Mercy Hospital, interrupting her reverie. "Why are you in today? You're not on call." Among the doctors, Elizabeth Godson (the name that she had chosen to reveal herself to the humans as) was the one to whom they looked to for answers or changes in the hospital hierarchy; she was always there with a laugh and a smile, to kick your butt if you were out of line, and when it was needed, a shoulder to cry on and an ear to listen to your troubles. She had worked here in Mercy's ER department for thirty-five years, the longest tenure in the hospital to date. As such, she was the person to go to for anything, from advice to assistance to mentoring. She spent almost all of her time here, making this place comparable to a second home.

"It's all right, Daphne. I need to work. My home is this hospital." That was always the explanation that she ever gave whenever she came in for extra shifts, which was almost every day. Among her human colleagues, she was the eccentric one, working fifteen hour shifts non-stop and then coming back within hours to do it all over again; she sometimes even worked pro bono hours just to help the hospital out, and if that was not out of the realm of normalcy, no one else knew what was. Still, she worked with a smile in her heart and an drive that most marathon runners could envy.

"Okay, then. We've got a trauma coming in: MVA with four vics, one major. ETA's ten minutes." When the call came out, Elizabeth ran down the hall to the locker room. Making sure that the door was locked behind her, she materialized out of her jeans, white wife-beater, and leather jacket; with a second of thought, she dressed the form of her vessel in the black sneakers and the sea-green scrubs, hospital issue; she double-checked the pant leg pockets to make sure that her tools (needed for the deception, for who could explain a human who could heal all with a simple touch of her hand) were there and that the stethoscope was draped properly around her neck. Finally, she reached for the small silver cross that rested in the hollow of her throat; it was the one vanity that she allowed herself.

She had seven minutes before the trauma came in as she came out of the room and checked the Swiss Army watch at her right wrist. "Daphne, do we have the trauma rooms open and stocked?"

"Yes, Doc. It's been quiet, so far." She looked through the three charts on the desk. Indeed, it had been quiet.

She chuckled as she ran out to meet the ambulance; the sirens were roaring nearer and nearer to the emergency bay. "Never say 'never', Daphne." The sirens of all of the ambulances coming in grounded her to the task at hand.

"What you got for me?" She helped to pull the stretcher out and began her visual assessment. The paramedic smiled slightly at the sight of the ever-working doctor before rattling off the bullet.

"MVA vic, 12 year old male, contusions to chest; head lac to frontal lobe, but he's alert and aware. Vitals stable. BP 120/80, resps 20 and regular, pulse 78 and going strong." The paramedic looked down at the boy for a moment as he asked after his mother. "He's going to make it, and so's the mother. The major's in the ambulance behind us."

"Okay. Peter!" She yelled to the attending; he was just coming outside with a determinedly grim look on his face. "Get him to Exam Two. Need a c-spine, chest x-ray. Make sure that his airway is secured and that he won't crash in the next twenty minutes. Run the call." Turning back to the boy, she leaned down and talked to him. "Your mother's coming in, son. Don't worry." When the attending came and took the little boy away, she turned back to the major. She got out of the way as the paramedic from the bus continued CPR on the ground.

"MVA major, 4 year old female, LOC when we got there; contusions on chest; broken right radius-ulna, and an open right tib-fib. Splinted in field. Severe blood loss from glass in face and arm; probable nicked brachial, femoral, and radial arteries. Heart stopped two minutes ago, two mgs of epi in the field, no response. Strung a line, 200 ccs bolus of normal saline. BP 97/64, pulse was weak and thready, pupils equal and reactive."

"Okay!" She took the stretcher and ran through the doors of the ER. "Get her to Trauma One!" She could sense three nurses and another attending following her, but her mind was on the little child beside her. Elizabeth felt the life force draining her; with all of her skills, she would not let this one die on her, not a little girl.

"On my count! One, two, three!" The nurses and the new attending helped her to lift the little girl off the stretcher and onto the gurney, and then all of them went into motion. "All right, tube her and get her on a 12-lead! Hang three units of O-neg, then get nine units type and cross. Need a chest, spine, pelvis, right arm, and right leg! Get x-ray in here yesterday! CBC, chem-7, tox-screen, heel stick for glucose! Donna, continue compressions! Get Ortho down here, now!"

When she was in control of a trauma, Dr. Godson morphed from a kind woman to a staff sergeant, her voice strident and intimidating enough to make the most experienced drug dealers and gangsters loose their bowels. Uriel, one of her younger brothers, would shake his head at her for even trying to save the "mud monkeys", as he referred to humans. To her, these humans were her Father's art, his beloved, and nothing would stop her from saving as many as she could so that they could live full lives before being called back to her Father. As she listened to the girl's lungs, she heard no fluid; a good sign, at least.

"Got a rhythm! Sinus tach, pulse 98 and strong at carotid." There was a sigh of relief as the little girl opened her eyes. Elizabeth looked at her, before the girl closed her eyes again and the monitor beeped.

"Doc, stats are dropping! She's bleeding from somewhere!"

"Suture up her femoral artery now! Be careful with that fracture!" Taking a look at the kid and the bruised abdomen that wasn't there before, she yelled again, "Thoracotomy tray!" She cut open the kid's chest, and out came a torrent of blood from the spleen, right underneath her left lung. "Ruptured spleen! Call the OR! Start a Thora-Seal for the hemo on the left side!" The attending rushed to do the procedure, but the child flat-lined again.

This child was going to die, no matter when the labs came in or how fast the surgical team could get to her. She had no choice. As she yelled at the attending to start CPR and for the nurses to prep the crash cart, Elizabeth accessed her powers (she used it so rarely these days, relying instead on the knowledge that she had gained over her service) and channelled it to her palm. It felt like warm water lapping against her hand, like the waves of the ocean that she had seen before. She just touched the child lightly on the forehead, pretending to look at the glass embedded in her face. When she let her powers flood through the child, she held her breath until she felt the girl's life force increase. There was a beep on the monitor, and the nurses' voices came back into her hearing with a muffled update.

She could not pay them attention, instead just nodding. After that, everything blacked out as she felt herself hit the floor.

"Doc Godson!" Someone was thrumming their knuckles against her sternum, trying to get her to respond. "Doctor Godson!" Her eyes hurt to open, but she forced them to anyway.

"Wha... what happened?" She took Peter's hand to stand up on unsteady feet, mindless of the blood on her scrubs and gloves. The trauma room was empty of everyone; where were the nurses? More importantly, where was the child?

"You blacked out, Doc, for a moment. You didn't stop breathing and your stats were normal, so we dealt with the little girl first. I keep telling you to cut back on those pro-bono shifts, get some sleep like normal people do." The one thing that was different between she and others of her kind was that she was able to feel emotion, empathy for the humans around her. In that instance, she was easy-going with the residents and attending, having been in their shoes for many years. So, she was not upset when her attending talked to her in such a casual way.

"Thanks, Pete. How's the girl?" She looked to the empty trauma room.

"She's up in Surgery right now. Docs say that she's gonna pull through."

"Good. I'm going to head up there." She raised her hand to stop his tirade. "To observe only, Pete. The mother's going to have questions about her children, and I gotta answer those first." She stripped off her gloves and shook her head again. "But first, I need some coffee."

Rubbing the back of her neck as she sipped at her coffee at the main desk, Elizabeth read over the records in front of her. From the bystander's reports to the police officers on scene, the mother and her three children were driving through an intersection when a driver t-boned his car into them on the passenger side. The driver at fault for causing the accident was uninjured, but his BAL was through the roof. He would be spending the night in the drunk tank before being charged with four counts of attempted vehicular manslaughter and another charge of driving under the influence.

The mother had suffered a broken leg and lacerations to her face and hands. The two sons were similiarly injured, only with broken arms or concussions into the mix. The daughter was the worst injured. Sighing, she stood up and slipped on her white coat. Time to talk to some worried family. As she opened the door that roomed the mother, she noted the worried father and an older son, probably twenty-three years old, guarding their family matriach.

"Ms. Newman?" She pulled a chair over to the mother's bed. She looked over to the father and brother. "Are you family?"

"Where's my children?" The husband placed his hand on her shoulder.

"I'm Dr. Godson; I looked after your daughter. Now, your sons are stable. Your youngest has some cuts on his face and arms, and he's been asking for you. Your fourteen year old has a broken arm and a concussion, but he's coming out of it."

"What about Sarah?" This time, it was the son asking the question.

Elizabeth nodded. "Your daughter was seriously injured. She came in with her heart stopped, a broken arm and a broken leg, as well as some nicked arteries." She always served it straight to the families; better for them to know the truth than to sugarcoat it for them. "She's up in Surgery right now, and they told me that she's going to pull through. Your daughter's a fighter, Ms. Newman." She stood up and looked at the family. "You can visit your sons right now; they're in the next room over. I'm going up to observe your daughter's surgery and give you an update as soon as we have more to know."

"Thank you, Dr. Godson." Mr. Newman shook her hand, tears falling down his face. She nodded to them all, before leaving them alone and racing up the stairs to the OR suites. The charge nurse knew immediately when she saw her bloody scrubs who she was here for. "The Newman girl's in Theatre Four. They got everyone working on her right now."

"Thanks, Nancy!" Elizabeth hung her coat up and scrubbed up before entering the operating suite. Like Nancy had told her, the room was full of people. Dr. Whiten and Joseph Isaacs were working on reducing the leg fracture. Dr. Alexander was suturing up her side. There were scrub nurses working with all of them, passing them tools and making sure that all was working well. The anesthestiologist stood up the machine and kept track of her vitals. One of the circulating scrub nurses saw her and helped her to gown up. "Doctors."

"Ah, Dr. Godson!" Dr. Alexander looked over his shoulder to her and shook his head. "Observing or participating?"

"Observing this time. So, how is she?" She looked over at the pale girl's face.

"She's going to make it. The arteries were sutured first. Her spleen's removed, but she's healthy enough for it not to be a concern right now. All the glass is out, the wounds cleaned and sutured." He sighed for a moment. "She was hemorrhaging internally from a slight laceration to her inferior vena cava, but it was sutured up. She went through only two units before all the bleeding was under control." He pointed with his chin to the two doctors. "Whitten heard about the case and got right in with Isaacs at his side. They finished fixating the arm, and they're almost done their work on the leg. Right, Thomas?"

Dr. Whitten talked without taking his eyes from the drill in his hand. "Another screw, and we'll be done. She'll be in casts for at least two months, but she'll walk without a limp and use this arm without any problem with some physiotherapy afterwards."

Joseph Isaacs looked up at Dr. Godson with a weary smile on his face. He was a orthopedic surgical resident under Dr. Whiten, and he was under the best surgeon in Mercy Hospital. "Nice to see you, Doctor."

"You too, Joseph." She walked over and took a look at his work on suturing the arm. "Your work's improving. You using the pigskin?"

"No. Doctor Whiten has me into more surgeries to show me more procedures, and I observe while suture."

"Less yakking, more sewing, Isaacs." Dr. Whiten barked as he put the drill aside. "Maybe if you finish up without fawning over Emerg's docs, I'll let you assist in the hip replacement tomorrow beyond suturing. That is, if you can handle it?" Without another word, they all got back to work. Elizabeth smiled and left the room, stripping off her gear and getting back into her coat. She headed up to the observation room above and watched them close and send the girl off to Recovery. When they left, she headed back down to Emerg. She had a promise to keep.

Dr. Godson watched the family cry with joy as she told them about little Sarah's progress. The boys were with their mother right now, and she called for some porters to bring them up to Recovery for them to see their daughter when the nurses deemed it ready. All in all, it was a good day of work. She headed into the locker room and saw Pete studying over one of the health records. "Peter, I'll see you on Friday. Be ready for me to ride your ass for questioning me." She took a look at him, and saw him almost cry out in unfairness. "I know my limits, and I've been working this job longer than you've been alive. You are only a first-year resident, and the first lesson that you are going to learn is that those with more experience than you are here to teach you, not for you to poke fun at. It is fine outside of work, but not after an emergency like that."

She heard the door slam as he left in an undignified huff. She just shook her head. The door opened again and Dr. Hudson came through. He was an attending here for the last two years, having completed his residency under her. "What did you say to Collins?" He asked as he poured himself coffee.

"He told me how to do my job, John. Told me to cut back on working." She turned and looked at him. "I didn't eat breakfast today. My blood sugar was low and I was dehydrated. I don't need a first-year telling me what to do."

"Elizabeth, he's young. Give him a break." He held a hand up. "Still, you're right."

She closed her locker and slipped into her jacket. "I'm going home. I'll see you tomorrow."