Invasion -- Concussed and bleeding welcome

[Bobby Drake]

Though conscious, Bob is having a very hard time controlling his body… it’s like a giant cramp in every muscle at once. Still, he manages to lever himself up to see what’s going on, unaware of the blood gushing from his nose from where he hit the ground, and vaguely aware of an ache in the back of his skull from where he hit the wall.

> " If you’re dead, Drake, I’m going to be really pissed off… so think carefully; you okay?"
> " Sugah? Y’awake? "

It’s a nice feeling, suddenly being the object of their concern, even if it did require getting himself electrocuted to do it. He shivers, then feels himself break out in a sweat, and begins to wonder whether he’s worse off than he thought, before he realizes it’s actually Storm and John using their powers. Hey, that shield-trick works pretty well!

The power-reflecting guy is starting to turn blue, a state Bob recognizes quite well, and is clearly not going to be a threat for much longer. That was pretty clever of her… the guy reflects energy thrown at him, but he’s got no defense against sucking energy away from him. He tries hard not to think about how, once, that would have been his trick.

"Yeah, I’ll be OK. Just need to make it down the hall, is all." He climbs carefully to his feet, bracing against the wall, and fights off a wave of dizziness. The irony that he might be the one with the concussion now, while John’s got more control over his power than ever, goes on the list of things not to think about.

The truth is he could use a hand getting the rest of the way to the medlab, but he’s embarrassed to ask for help in the middle of a fight. So he starts making his way down the hall on his own, using the wall for support.

[Tobias Smith]

Tobias is still simply laying on the table, the lack of movement really allowing him to save enough strength to stay awake. Slightly more amazing, the possibility to speak if need be. But thankfully for him, the situation need not be. Tobias' eyes are twitching slightly, and he is getting used to being almost completely numb. It is an odd sensation, like when your leg falls asleep, but in this case the entire body.

Tobias glances over to the sides with his eyes, unable to move his head. Chrome, chrome, and more chrome. There are a few medical instruments around the room, and his mind tells him that this is some sort of hospital...or some sick, twisted, futuristic, over sized medicine cabinet. Either way, as long as they bring on the morphine, Tobias is okay with it. The Goth lad thinks he hears fighting close by, and it doesn't surprise him. He blinks a few times, and breaths slowly, and painfully. As a painful spasm rocks his body, he coughs and thinks about what has happened since he got here.

...God fucking damn it....next time...next time, let the little prick die. Don't save them. Don't work to fight, don't work to help anyone but me...wait, that's not right! Dammit! Now I'm becoming a fucking conformist! Okay..I'll balance it out. This attack, I work my ass off and get it handed back to me for a bunch of pricks I don't know. NEXT time, I sit out, and let the others fight for me...hey, its that girl I took the sandwich from. Gotta say, damn fine sandwich...damn fine. I wonder when I can move again...WITHOUT hurting...shit.

[Bobby Drake]

Bob finally makes it to the medlab… it feels like he’s run a marathon or something, even though it’s only been a few yards. He’s a little surprised to find it occupied, which in retrospect is pretty stupid – with all the ordnance that’s been flying around, what ought to surprise him is that everyone isn’t wounded.

Or dead, he can’t help but add to himself.

It’s something of a relief to see Mr. Putzkammer running the machinery; he’s no doctor but he doesn’t freak easily, and he’s been around enough battles to know what to do. Bob’s bleeding pretty freely from his nose, but that will clot pretty quickly; it’s the less obvious symptoms that worry him more, and in his current condition, Bobby doesn’t trust himself to work the machinery himself.

Of course, as with most of the teachers he’d had before he went academically AWOL, Bobby’s been a little wary of running into Mr. Putzkammer in the halls. On the other hand, he’s going to have to talk to the guy at some point if he’s going to re-register for his World History class next semester. Not that any of that really matters right at this moment.

He waves, then stops short when he realizes who the man is treating, and what Matthew’s presence means."Holy crap… Toni??!??" He tries to shrug off the dizziness and blurry vision and focus on her wound. "What the hell can do that to her… and is it still out there? And -- " he’s cut off suddenly by noticing the second patient, who is actually in far worse shape; he stumbles to that table for a closer look. "Oh, crap… this is the new kid, isn’t it? I’ve seen him around… Taylor? Thomas? Something like that. What the hell happened to him… he looks like somebody’s crash-test dummy!"

It does occur to Bob that he’s being more than a little hysterical and not really doing anybody any good, but he can’t seem to stop.

[Tobias Smith]

> "Oh, crap… this is the new kid, isn’t it? I’ve seen him around… Taylor? Thomas? Something like that. What the hell happened to him… he looks like somebody’s crash-test dummy!"

Either due to the pain, or the fact that he has had enough of frantic people speaking quickly, (not as quickly as that psychotic little speed-freak as earlier however), or possibly due to someone not getting his name right again, Tobias' eye twitches slightly, and he grunts so quietly he is just barely audible. It hurts his lungs to do so, but slight pain is better than the complete numbness. A seperate reilization is that the numbness just might be spinal damage. Oh dammit...

"To...bias....name's...Tobias.......long fall......chopper......crash........explosion...get me....morf.......morphine.........you..........got some.........blood...on your face.........heh.........Frostyboy.....right? Seen you......on TV......X Men..........this normal.....here? .......If so........I'm....leaving......heh.......jokes....aside.......get me.....painkillers.....


Tobias' brain has by this point begun shutting down unneeded systems in his body. So far has gone taste, touch, and smell, and it is getting progressively harder for the bleeding lad to see or hear what's going on. But one way or another, he was going to get some painkillers. Sure, he probably isn't the only patient to his knowledge. The guy standing over him said something about someone named "Toni", whoever the hell that is. Tobias figures he has about a minute or two until he falls unconscious.

[Ororo Munroe]

Good. John was doing just as she'd hoped. With Bobby currently powerless, he was the only one who would have any problems dealing with a sudden drop in temperature - somewhat ironic for the former Iceman. He hasn't given up the title yet, she sternly reminds herself.

Storm stares across at the final troop as he collapses to the ground, shivering uncontrollably, until he finally succumbs to unconsciousness. At this, she releases her hold on the elements and the hallway immediately begins to thaw.

> "Yeah, I’ll be OK. Just need to make it down the hall, is all."

Bobby has reached the medical lab by the time she's checked over their adversaries and confirmed them all to be out of the fight. "Bobby..." Ororo shakes her head. He really had to get over the urge to do everything by himself, just to prove he could. It was pointless. She glances over at John and Rogue. "Good work. John, let's check on your head..."

She follows him into the lab and tries to to gape at the scene spread out in front of her. Toni down, not a good sign. And Tobias. Shit. Storm bites her lip at this. She'd left him with Kurt and assumed he'd help with the evacuation, and can't help but feel guilty for his wounds. They don't look overly severe. With any luck, he'll pull through.

"Bernard? Is there anything I can do to help? What have you administered so far?" Ororo glances over the readouts above each patient. "I didn't know there was actually anything on the face of this earth that could puncture Toni's skin..."

A bleeping from the lab office in the corner catches her attention. An incoming transmission... Ostensibly, the main computer had located her and forwarded the call to the lab. Ororo begins to cut her way through the mayhem toward the console.

[Bobby Drake]

> " To...bias....name's...Tobias.......long fall......chopper......crash........explosion...get me....morf.......morphine.........you..........got some.........blood...on your face.........heh.........Frostyboy.....right? Seen you......on TV......X Men..........this normal.....here? .......If so........I'm....leaving......heh.......jokes....aside.......get me.....painkillers..... "

Bob blinks in surprise… he hadn’t even realized the kid was conscious. Did he really say “chopper crash”? Miracle he survived at all… at least, without some kind of super-invulnerable crash-protecting mutation, which doesn’t look likely. Bernie’s busy trying to patch Toni up, and Bob doesn’t want to interrupt him.

"OK, Tobias, don’t worry… I’ve got you. Try to stay conscious just a little while longer, OK? " He really isn’t sure what to do, but he can at least do some basic first aid, keep the kid stabilized until Bernie can take a look at him.

It only takes a moment to find supplies, and hook Tobias up to the medbay apparatus. The displayed notes don’t include contraindications for analgesics, he’s relieved to see, so he starts preparing a hypodermic with a standard emergency pain-blocker, following the directions printed on the container. Thank God this place was set up to handle emergencies! If it weren’t for the instructions he’d just be dithering helplessly, and he makes a mental note to add EMT training to his curriculum… what would he do if this happened in the field?

"OK, I’m back, Tobias… don’t worry, you’ll be fine. " Bob realizes he’s not sounding terribly reassuring, and tries to get his voice and breathing under control. There’s not a lot he can do about the uniform, though, or the blood, or the fact that Tobias just recognized him as one of the X-Men.

"And, yeah… X-Men are pretty normal around here," he rambles, trying to keep Tobias’ attention focused while he finishes preparing the hypodermic. It seems to take forever, especially the way his vision is blurring and his hands shaking, and he hopes he’s doing it right. "We usually hold off on the introductions until you’ve gotten used to the place, but these are special circumstances… you probably figured that out already, though, right?" Bob catches Bernie’s eye as Ororo approaches him, just to give the more experienced medic an opportunity to stop him from doing something really stupid, before emptying the hypodermic into Tobias’ IV pouch.

"There… that should help with the pain. Just try and relax, now… I’m going to see what I can do about the bleeding… " He fumbles with the bandages and antisceptic, getting blood all over everything – his own, Tobias’, at this point he can’t even tell.

The kid’s legs are swelling as well as bleeding, so Bob cuts his pants legs off before starting to wrap the worst wounds. "Sorry about the pants… I know how that is, I trash my clothes with my powers all the time... I mean, I used to. Occupational hazard, right? Hey, so I’m guessing you aren’t invulnerable, and the evidence is piling up against super-fast healer… what’s your thing?"

He realizes his conversation is going from the irrelevant to the truly inane, but he doesn’t quite seem to be able to stop talking. He notices John out of the corner of his eye and nods to him as well... "Hey... that was good, out there, with the fireshield and everything. Is the reflector-guy down?"

[Laurie Collins]

Laurie distantly registers Mr. Putzkammer’s words, knows she should listen, respond, but his voice somehow gets caught up in the general atmosphere of blood and metal and too-bright fluorescent lights. All she can do is shake her head dazedly for a moment before resuming the scan of the room she’d begun when she emerged from the supply closet. Miss Craft still looks terrible but at least now she’s looking terrible in an official, ordered setting with sterile gauze wrapped around her shoulder, medical machinery, and someone who seems to know what he’s doing taking care of her. Mr. Coleman looks pale and drawn, even more so than usual, but at least he seems to be uninjured and Matthew…

As her gaze comes to rest on her friend a drop of his sister’s blood falls from his saturated shirt and somehow the plip it makes as it hits the floor is crystallized, sharp and clear and enhanced so that it’s the loudest thing she’s heard since they entered the elevator. She starts across the room without thinking, stepping carefully as if she expects to encounter landmines. When she reaches Matthew she kneels awkwardly in front of him, head sending a sharp stab of protest at the change in altitude, and reaches out slowly, hesitating for a moment with her hands suspended halfway between them before completing the gesture, taking one of his hands in each of hers and drawing them gently away from his face.

Then before she can do anything more than try to smile at him with as much reassurance as she can muster there’s the high pitched whine of Alice’s speed-voice and the crash of Logan (he’s always a quandary, she can’t reconcile herself to calling a teacher by his first name, even such unconventional teachers as the institute boasts, but Logan doesn’t exactly have a last name and he’s rather intimidating anyway so she usually just settles for staring at him for a moment before rushing to get out of his path however possible when she encounters him) bursting through the doors with another body over his shoulder. Wait, I know him, he…sandwich stealer! She blanches as she realizes how badly he’s hurt and turns quickly back to Matthew, focusing on him and trying to shut out the sounds of the med-lab. If you panic now it would affect Mr. Putzkammer, it could stop him helping Miss. Craft. The thought sobers her visibly and she closes her eyes, tightening her hold on Matthew’s hands and completely missing Logan’s light reprimand and the pair’s rather noisy exit as she gathers herself again.

"Holy crap… Toni??!??"

The familiar voice grabs her attention again and the near hysteria in the tone of someone she considers stable, capable, kick-starts her heartbeat, renews the struggle to stay calm. Miss. Craft is supposed to be invulnerable and Bob’s supposed to have answers, and they’re…

"What the hell can do that to her… and is it still out there? And -- "
"I didn't know there was actually anything on the face of this earth that could puncture Toni's skin..."

Laurie half turns and frowns at the others, suddenly more protective than scared, perhaps you could not keep going on about that when it isn’t helping and Matthew’s sitting right here she feels like snapping out but thinks better of it at the last moment They’ll stop talking and do something faster if they know what happened and- oh no-the barbs might still be in there…I should have told them that already.

“H-he, um, he was a mutant.” she speaks up for the first time, choking slightly on her words as if her voice has gotten rusty in its time of disuse. “I think he was anyway… he was stronger than her and these…these… barbs came out of the tips of his fingers and went into her shoulder. He ran away when I got scared. They might still be in there… I should have said… I’m sorry.” she whirls again just as abruptly and looks up at Matthew apologetically, wishing he could be somewhere else but knowing that he couldn’t leave his sister like this. Well then I won’t leave either she resolves, determination to do something no matter how useless or redundant (it isn’t as if she can go back to her room after all) it may be helping immeasurably.

“Do you need anything?” she whispers to Matthew, moving to gesture vaguely with her hands then realizing she’s still holding his hands and aborting the motion awkwardly. “I mean I don’t know what’s down here or anything like that but I can find things, I’m good at that, uh sometimes.” she babbles rather nonsensically, adding an earnest nod and wincing slightly as she belatedly remembers that sudden head movements are still a bad plan.

[Tobias Smith]

Tobias sighs in relief as Bob tends to his wounds and gives him the painkillers. He can still speak, but now it is hardly more than a whisper. His shuddering slows to a stop, and his entire body calms for the most part. His vision is still blurred but now not due to pain, but due to the lack of his contacts. A smile tugs at the edges of his mouth, and he whispers,

"Damn........better get used....to shit....like this..........don't worry.......didn't......like this........outfit much......well.......I......stop time....don't know.....the specifics.........I just use..........my power........time stops......simple.......so......whats it......like......anti terrorism.....crap? .....I'm......not in the.........mood to.......be an.....ass right......about now......so....do enlighten me.....Frosty."

Tobias does not know about Bob's demutation, for the first time he was aware of Bob's presence and the X-Men in general, it was on the post-Alcatraz broadcast which featured all of the X-Men at the time. The numb feeling has been replaced by a calmer, simply pain-free feeling. Granted, Tobias can't move anything except his jaw, but still, he has a bit of sarcasm left in him. Hmm...Frosty the X-Man. Oh what a delightful Christmas song that would make.

Frosty the X-Man, was a pitiful angsty soul,
With a leather suit and a bleeding nose and two eyes not really weird.
Frosty the X-Man, is a myth to the public.
He could make up snow but the children know he saved their lives one day.
There must have some weird gene in that damned Y Chromosome,
For when mixed with his mother's X...er...he just came out weird.
Oh Frosty the X-Man, was alive as he could be
as the children say he could laugh and play,
before putting on the freeze.

.....Yeah, I'm gonna stay out of music and stick to painting.

[Bobby Drake]

Bob leans forward so he can hear Tobias’ whispered explanation, then regrets it as drops of his blood spatter onto the boy’s shirt. "Oh, sorry…" he pulls back, then grabs tightly onto the side of the medical bed as the room spins and his stomach clenches. OK, then, we don’t do that again.

"Um… actually (gulp) can we hold off on the enlightening to some other time? I think I need to lie down (gulp) for a second." The sudden pallor of his skin probably makes that much clear without the need for explanation. " Can somebody else take over here?" he calls out, waving the bandages he’s been trying to wrap around Tobias’ legs. "I think I’m gonna…"

He doesn’t actually finish the sentence, but the way he stumbles out of the room with a hand clapped over his mouth makes the sentiment pretty clear, as do the subsequent retching sounds from the supply closet Laurie only just vacated.

(( OOC: So, just cuz I feel like it, summarizing the current state of the medlab: Storm and Bernie, in decent shape; Matthew and Arthur, standing around dazed and in shock but uninjured; Laurie and John, mild concussion; Rogue, minor bruises but otherwise OK; Bob, electrical shock, throwing up in supply closet; Tobias and Toni, broken and bloody. That right? Neat! Yay, casualties!

Oh, and the song had me giggling. Pity Bob can’t read minds.))

[Pyro]

< Yeah, I’ll be okay
The rush of relief is almost too great to be put into words – which is part of why he doesn’t try, just flashes Rogue a see, knew he wasn’t dead grin – though… shit, he looks somewhere less than alive, at least, with all the blood and the general almost-dazed fragility which doesn’t sit at all well with *his Bobby* (and yes, there’s a big fat contradiction there, given how he’s been seeing nothing but *vulnerable, breakable Bob* lately, but who said any of this had to make sense?). He contemplates offering a hand, trying to help steady him or something, but gets the impression that he’d wave it off and claim to be fine… which is stupid, because he’s obviously not (and no, that taste isn’t hypocrisy at all…), but John hangs back nevertheless, flitting with a vicious sort of anxiety on the borderline between *far enough it’s not crossing the reinstated boundaries* and *near enough to spring into action* and more than slightly amused that Rogue seems to have taken up the same role with regards to his making it to the medlab safely, leaving the three of them in some bizarre demented conga line.

They make it there, eventually (and eventually seems like an insane sort of thought, given that it’s only a few yards, but it seems insane that nothing bursts out of the walls to kill them in those last few steps, given what’s come before), and for the first time that harsh sterile bubble feels like something other than a prison – not that he’s taking any chances on getting trapped again, taking a perch on a trolley before one of the others can start getting all concerned again. Trolleys are safe and temporary; forced into a bed, he’d be a patient again, and they wouldn’t let him leave. The other major advantage is that it’s in the corner, where he can just hang back and observe, rather than in the thick of the action. Which, of course, is where Bob is, and John, watching on the outskirts and absently rotating some shiny… medical thingy pilfered from nearby shelves between thumb and middle finger, is out of it enough to interpret the way he’s babbling on and launching into action as just another part of Bob’s hero ‘thing’ and try to be suitably impressed by how he’s taking charge and… stuff. Yes.

John himself is a weird sort of calm, really; not because he doesn’t notice things, he sees them just fine. It’s just… they don’t seem worth panicking about. Everything’s distant and sort of… hazy, like he’s watching the bits he doesn’t actively force himself to concentrate on from the other side of frosted glass.

< Good work, John
< Hey... that was good, out there, with the fireshield and everything. Is the reflector-guy down?"
John doesn’t so much beam at the praise as… fuck it, yes he does, he beams, because yes, it was good… and said beam sort of takes most of the sting out of the snark fighting to reassert itself against everything else that’s going on in his head when he replies ”Nah.. why spoil his fun? Left him wandering around out there… human bouncy castle. Absolute barrel of of-course-‘ro-Storm-turned-him-into-a-giant-popsicle-an’-we-escaped.”

Now that his attention’s back on Bob… something’s a little wrong with the picture, and he frowns, somewhere between befuddled and concerned, like he’s looking at one of those magic pictures and failing to see the 3d dolphins in the mess of colour and form. ”Yarright, Bob? Y’don’t look so hot… ‘xcept that y’do and that’s probably what’s… ah, right. Shutting up” John lapses back into a slightly embarrassed silence. He’s switched from shiny!toys to wooden!ones – tongue depressers, or something - more reminiscent of matches, and still big enough for him to play with, though they keep snapping because he’s not concentrating enough, and that’s really frustrating for some stupid reason, and…

… and then Bob’s gone, and the sounds from the closet make it pretty clear where and why. Again John’s torn between wanting to help and feeling it’s somehow not *allowed*, and again the voice saying that Bob won’t like it wins out. So he waits, the concerned look back again, and after a few moments offers, perfectly seriously despite the absurdity, a tentative ”Bob? You okay?”

[Rogue]

_{Apologies if this sucks - I really really can't tell. I'm all...NyQuill-affied, so ...yes. If something makes no sense, let me know so I can fix it. ^_^}

"Yeah, I’ll be OK. Just need to make it down the hall, is all."

Relieved as she is, she still can’t help want to just drag both of them the rest of the way down there and get them in beds before they end up killing themselves. John’s grin shot her way is returned with a tentative smile of her own. There’s a moment of indecision – help Bob up and out, or will he not want her to..? – but aside from the initial shift forwards and then falling back, she doesn’t move, doesn’t get up until both have moved away – then she rises and follows.

Once they’re inside, she sort of lingers back, standing off to one side – close enough to be…well, close, but far enough that she’s out of the way. She really just wants them both to get checked over – Bob’s trying to help so soon after being basically fried is really unsettling, but she supposes it’s just how he is, and John…looks like he’s dazed and not really paying attention. Also unsettling.

But she doesn’t know anything about medicine, not really even much basic first aid, so she can’t do anything, so she just keeps standing in place, fidgeting with her gloved hands, and …wishing someone who did know what they were doing would get Bob and John to do what normal injured people are supposed to do, and stop moving around.

Of course, seeing Bob run off towards a closet has her back to the hesitation-jerky should I do something, or should I stay here motions, sort of moving closer, then falling back, obviously torn between going and staying and…in the end, she just sort of stands there.

She picks out Ororo from the rest of the group in the room, and moves over towards her. Maybe Storm’ll let her go …do something. Get rid of whoever’s left, or something, because this is really not her element, and at the moment, keeping from panicking at the sight of the blood and over worrying about her friends’ wounds is taking a lot of effort.

”Storm? Anythin’ I c’n do…outside’a here?” She tries not to fidget as she shoots a glance back towards where John is (wishing Bob was still in sight too), as if making sure he hasn’t…run off, or passed out, or…something.

[Ororo Munroe]

The medical bay currently reminds Ororo of an episode of ER she’d seen on rerun a couple of nights ago. Back in the good days, when George Clooney was still on board. What I would give for Dr. Ross to be helping us right now... Storm maneuvers around a shell-shocked Matthew and Arthur, who seem to be hovering around Toni’s gurney.

She glances in Bernie’s direction, making a fractional nod with her head. This room needs to be cleared out a little. Both of them appeared to be unhurt… if anything, they could wait in one of the adjoining laboratories. Not Surgery… we might need that yet. Storm wills herself to not look at Toni’s gaping injury.

The communications equipment in the corner is still bleeping, and she narrowly dodges a Bobby who’s rushing towards… the closet? Concern for Bobby, for everyone, starts creeping back in on her. This day needs to be over… Ororo puts a hand on her forehead. After weaving around their neuroimaging equipment, she finally reaches the console, and depresses the button. “Storm here..” She holds her breath, waiting for bad news.

“What's going on here? We just left these people in Paris!” Josh’s voice comes in crackling over the intercom, and Ororo breaks into a wide smile. Thank goodness.

“I’m afraid that we had some visitors as well. Where are you?” As she speaks, Ororo looks over the crowd in the medical lab, and she can see Rogue picking her way through the people as John peers into the closet.

“I’m trying to land the Blackbird, but whatever you were doing up here is giving us some massive turbulence to work with… and the hangar door’s not opening.” Ororo hears Warren’s voice in the background. “Scratch that… we’re going to set down on the back lawn. Oh, and Warren needs medical attention.” Don’t we all… Storm shakes her head. Yes, definitely ER.

“I’ll send someone to meet you… be careful. I believe our friends have left for the most part, but there are still some surprises left.” Ororo lifts her finger off the comm button and turns towards Rogue, who looks distinctly uncomfortable with the goings-on of the lab.

> Storm? Anythin’ I c’n do…outside’a here?”

“Do you think you could get upstairs and meet the boys? I’m a little worried about them running into something, especially if they’re injured.” Storm looks at Rogue, waiting for an answer, and then wades back into the crowd of injured.

[Matthew Craft]

Dazed isn’t really an accurate word when describing Matthew’s condition. Shock sounds far more reasonable. Shell-shock seems almost perfect.

He’s not injured, nor had he physically exerted himself during the attack, but emotionally speaking, he may as well be in a coma.

He’s the biggest kid at the school. Hell! He’s even larger than all of his teachers. One would most likely associate size with such personality traits as: courageousness; boldness; and maybe even selflessness (presuming said large person is altruistic). And to a certain degree, Matthew is all of these things. He’s rarely, if ever, scared of confrontation or less-than-ideal situations. Actually, if their previous peril-filled run-in with the invading soldiers was anything to go by, he may as well be one of the first in a fight.

But the moment his sister gets hurt, Matthew turns into a giant, blubbering baby. Definitely not one of his strongest characteristics. He and Toni don’t have a normal sibling relationship. They don’t bicker or fight, they just tease each other. Sure, Toni’s definitely the more insane of the two, but Matthew has every reason to believe that it’s her insanity that keeps him sane. Without his sister, he’d probably just snap. And no one wants to see a seven-foot tall, walking nuclear bomb snap.

In the meantime, Toni’s still there, but the worry and panic have him pinned to the spot. If his sister wasn’t suffering from massive blood loss or any other life-threatening injury, then he’d probably running about with medical supplies, eager to help the others that kept flowing in.

And yes, he had noted the others. That whiz girl who was in his English class, Alice was her name? And shortly after her arrival there’s Logan, who’s carrying someone, and John and Bobby and Ms. Munroe. He’s sure he’d heard Rogue in there somewhere as well. But he makes no real attempt to let them know that he’s acknowledged them.

But when there’s a cool touch pulling on his hands, he looks up slowly. Laurie stares back at him, smiling gently. He’d have smiled back too, but the motion gets confused on the track from his brain to his mouth and instead comes out as a tremble that starts in his face and eventually encompasses his entire body.

He tries to control his shaking, but it only gets worse when there are some rather discouraging comments regarding his sister. And it certainly doesn’t help when he realizes that they came from Bobby and Ms. ‘Roe, possibly the two most level-headed people the Institute. Matthew feels the despair sink him even deeper, though there’s a convenient little Laurie-shaped kisbee ring bobbing close by.

“Do you need anything? I mean I don’t know what’s down here or anything like that but I can find things, I’m good at that, uh sometimes.” He looks back up at Laurie again, his state of shock slowing down or completely inhibiting most of his thought trains. But there are a few that still manage to run reasonably clearly.

“Someone really needs to look at your head.” It amazes him just how many times his voice cracks in one simple sentence. Mind you, he’s gotten way beyond caring by this point. “But…can you just stay with me. For a little while? Please?” He normally hates begging, and he would have stopped himself a long time ago, but that’s one of those thought trains that runs into the giant wall of despair and shock, left to fizzle out.

Matthew holds on to her hands gently, staring at her like a lost, injured puppy, hoping dearly that she wouldn’t leave him alone.

[Laurie Collins]

Oh gosh he’s shaking, don’t shake, be okay, be okay. Laurie tightens her grip on his hands as she feels herself beginning to emit again, Matthew’s anxiety is feeding into hers and the by-now-familiar fear-guilt-anger cocktail is swarming up in her stomach again. Stop. And it does. She doesn’t have time to consider this new development though, Matthew still looks several shades past terrible and now he’s saying something too.

“Someone really needs to look at your head.”

She stares at him blankly for a moment then widens her eyes in belated comprehension, “Oh! Um it’ll be okay for awhile, not going to roll away or anything. Hopefully. So they can look later.” she wiggles it a bit, experimentally, “Yes, still, er, firmly affixed. Which is good.” Gee I’m sure he’s glad you’re here. So very helpful and capable. It’ll be a miracle if you can even keep the pheromones in check.

“But…can you just stay with me. For a little while? Please?”

“Yeah, of course.” she whispers, forgetting her own anxiety and scooting closer so that their knees touch, evidently settling in to hold the position for a while. I wish I could say she’d be okay. I wish… maybe I even wish I knew how to use these stupid pheromones so that she never would have gotten hurt in the first place. That soldier wouldn’t have died either. I could have made them all just sleep and then locked them in a closet or something and everyone would have been okay. But what if I liked using my pheromones too much? What if… she feels her anxiety beginning to build again and gives herself a mental shake, not now.

Her focus centers back on Matthew and she bites her lower lip for a moment. I wish I could do more than just sit here…well… “Hey, hug?” she offers adding as much for my benefit as yours at this point to herself.

[Matthew Craft]

He stares at her with a desperate sort of blankness, blinking slowly as his hands tremble against hers.

“Oh! Um it’ll be okay for awhile, not going to roll away or anything. Hopefully. So they can look later. Yes, still, er, firmly affixed. Which is good.” Matthew pauses, distantly studying the bloodied wound in her temple, but nods languidly, accepting her explanation when normally he’d readily oppose. But opposition is beyond his capabilities right now because his brain is a meddled pool of depressed mush, and having someone treat Laurie’s injury would require her to leave him. And despite just how worried he is about her, he’s not ready to be left alone again.

“Yeah, of course.” She scoots closer, for which he is very grateful. He feels like he really needs the comforting physical contact, and he holds her hands a little tighter, as if he’s afraid she’s going to slip away. Matthew feels a little guilty, having her dote on him when really, she’s probably in much worse shape than him, if only in a physical sense.

Carefully releasing one of her hands, he reaches up and brushes his fingers against her cheek, opposite of her wound. It's not really an intentional act; moreso one out of dazed confusion and the sheer jolt of the last hour. He just needs to know for sure that she's really there and not some comforting illusion. Satisfied after a couple moments, Matthew lets his fingers tie into a few blond strands of hair, his attention drawn away when Laurie speaks to him again.

“Hey, hug?” While the request is a little surprising, Matthew only hesitates for a moment before nodding again.

“Yeah…” He lets his bent legs drop and stretch out on either side of her as he leans forward and all but engulfs her in his arms. The motion is soothing and he can feel his trembling diminish to a minor tremble, his muscles quivering ever so slightly. He drops his head to rest gently against her shoulder and pulls in a few deep, but shaky, breaths.

“Thanks,” he murmurs quietly, holding her a little bit closer, resisting the urge to clutch her like a long-missed teddy bear.