Elijah arrived back at the hut, slightly out of breath.  He quickly checked Desmond's vitals and they seemed unchanged.  But Elijah knew that he was no doctor and for all he really knew Desmond could be slowly slipping away.  Elijah knew the secrets of the ancient peoples, he knew what leaves and herbs they dried/steeped/mixed to perform what must have seemed like miracles at the time.  But they weren't.  They were just low grade concoctions that any local drugstore could put to shame.  So Elijah had some "aspirin," which could take away pain, sort of; some uppers and downers that were basically Caffeine derivatives pulled from Mate leaves for uppers and Chamomile and Valerian root for downers; and he had poultices to help speed healing of wounds and other various extracts.  All of which was frustratingly useless for Desmond in his current state.<br/><br/>Elijah began to search through the bag, but he was finding that everything fell into two distinct categories.  Things he knew were useless in this situation and things he no idea what they were for.  His frustration mounted as he slowly finished the inventory.<br/><br/>"God, why do you you tempt me with this only to throw my ignorance back in my face!  Is this because I didn't become a fucking doctor like my mother always wanted!?!"  Elijah slumped into a cane chair, drained.<br/><br/>Some time passed in stillness.  Desmond hanging on by a thread, and Elijah looking on dazedly, wallowing in self-pity.<br/><br/><em>Smack!</em>Elijah hit his head with his palm.  "I apologize, God, sometimes I am just too damn smart to see my own stupidity."  Elijah paused.  He remembered someone else say those words to him some years ago.  Elijah whispered quietly, "Rachael."  Then loudly, "Fuck her!"  Clearing his head, Elijah continued, "It's not the kit I was supposed to find; it's the owner."