Invasion -- Concussed and bleeding welcome

[Tobias Smith]

Tobias' eyes flashed downward toward where Laurie and Matthew were having an emotional moment, mostly out of sadness rather than anything else. He rolls his eyes, still thankful the painkillers are working, and mutters hoarsely and just audibly enough for them to hear, "Gonna.......puke.......things.......'ll work out.............usually.............do.........Big guy...........she'll..........probably...............screw it..........just......get.......a room.........you two............mmph............................

At long last, the combination of exhaustion, pain, and morphine cause Tobias to close his eyes, and fall unconscious. Sleep would be too easy, this is complete, utter, unconsciousness. Odds are he will not wake up for at least a day, perhaps two. Whatever it is, he feels he's done his part, and he can rest easy now...

((Short, I know, but my muse is dead.))

[Arthur Coleman]

Arthur seems to have found solace by now in a far corner of the medical lab. Standing stiff and immobile, he seems to be frozen in a moment, his mind whirring with emotions that aren't even his own. Some wash over him in hot and cold shivers, and others become lost in the enigmatic pulses. His arms are folded across his narrow chest tightly, his fingers clenched into his palms while his pale knuckles blanche further. One of his shoulders is pressed heavily into the wall, giving him a look of being unbalanced and weary as the support removes his meager weight from his heels. He says nothing to the others around him, finding no use in his own timid words of comfort that sound so much better in his head. Firmly, Arthur has chosen to bite his tongue, merely listening to the things around him distantly, as though hearing them through a sheet of glass.

He is not a fighter, and there's no doubt in that. But today.. today.. his students' lives were endangered, and what could he do? Cower, at best.. lead them.. but not protect them. He knows well enough by now that even the voice of reason is not bulletproof, and it will do nothing for you as a shield. Things had been so much easier when he could turn to Charles.. ask him for help.. look to his guidance and wisdom that was well beyond Arthur's own by years and years. And who could he turn to now? Himself? He was a sheep without a shepard, and even Arthur wouldn't turn to the most well-behaved sheep. Not a cowardly one anyway..

These times separate the men from the boys.. Arthur muses bitterly, bowing his head towards his chest with a convulsive breath of air that is the only thing holding him together. He bites back a gasp in his chest and lifts a hand to rub at the corners of his eyes--warm with tears. Now is not the time. he scolds himself, straightening his back and almost moving to turn back towards the group to find something--anything he could say or do to better the situation.

But Arthur merely bonelessly leans against the wall, unable to bring himself to take a step. They are better off without his help.

[Bernhard Putzkammer]

Getting Toni bandaged up had been relatively simple. Just a deep flesh wound wrapped up in the appropriate field dressing. Simple stuff.

Tobias had a variety of injuries, some of which Bernie knew he could even begin to treat. It’s for that reason that he’s very grateful when Ororo comes rushing in, John, Bobby, and Rogue in tow.

"Bernard? Is there anything I can do to help? What have you administered so far?" He shakes his head for a moment, noting that Bobby’s run off to help with Tobias’ injuries.

“Not too much else to do besides tend to the boy there.” He nods towards the injured student, frowning. “I’ve done just about as much as I can for Toni. We can’t x-ray her or put her in the MRI, the metal’ll just screw the results up. We’re just gonna have to hope she pulls through on her own. The kid though, he looks like he should get a few rounds of morphine.” His German accent thickens slightly as he scans the wounds over Tobias’ body.

"I didn't know there was actually anything on the face of this earth that could puncture Toni's skin..."

“Neither did I, but stranger things have happened.” Bernie glances over at Laurie as the young girl pipes up.

“H-he, um, he was a mutant. 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.”

“No need to apologize, Laurie. We’ve all had a rough morning.” Giving her about as much reassurance as he could muster given their situation, he redirects his attention back to Ororo. He made a mental note to check the student’s head shortly, content that for the next few minutes she would be fine. “Mutants, eh?” He says quietly, talking more so to himself. “I ran into one as well. Regenerative bloke…which reminds me…I hope you weren’t too fond of that green lamp in the dining hall.” He’s pretty sure his attempt at post-combat humour falls dead flat, but the mood in the medlab was so thick with gloom, he just had to try and do something. "Raises quite a few questions though."

Ororo runs off to the insistent communications panel at the side of the room as Bobby flees into the recently occupied storage closet. He bites back another rather inappropriate comment regarding the frailty of student stomachs before glancing around the room again, taking measure of their current situation.

Tobias is reasonably patched up, thanks to Bobby, but there’s still some work left to do before they concern themselves with his possible internal injuries and broken bones. Fetching the gauze, he does what he can, as quickly as he can, tying up the boy, who soon-after falls into unconsciousness. As carefully as possible, Bernie heaves Tobias and the stretcher up onto the MRI track, then sets the machine, watching as the student is pulled into the over-sized, plastic donut. Head injuries were his first concern, but if everything proved to be clean, then he’d move onto broken bones. ‘Life over limb’ if he recalled the saying properly.

None of his other students were seriously injured, but Laurie’s head wound still required some medical attention. Grabbing two pristine, white, X-logo adorned t-shirts from a neighbouring cupboard and some clean gauze and disinfectant solution, Bernie makes his way to Matthew and Laurie.

“Thought you might care for a change of attire,” he says simply and humourlessly, handing the two shirts over to his students. He sits back and waits patiently to treat Laurie’s head, preferring to do so after she’s changed her bloodied shirt.

[Laurie Collins]

Laurie looks up questioningly as she feels Matthew tugging one of his hands away. She parts her lips slightly, as if to speak, then abruptly forgets the impulse as the hand he’s just removed from her grip reaches out and brushes her cheek gently. Her breath hitches, inhale forgetting the transition to release, and her eyes widen a bit in surprise but she doesn’t move, staying absolutely still as his fingers trace their feather-light course across her skin. Oh no… she feels a sinking, semi-nauseated jolt of tension in her stomach as she realizes she can’t deny it now. His fingers move to tangle in her hair and she lowers her eyes, the astoundingly potent power of the teenage psyche driving even the fluorescent brilliance of the medlab with its cacophony of sensory assaults into the background for a moment as her mind races over the ramifications of what she’s just discovered…or maybe admitted to herself is a better way of phrasing it. What am I going to do? I shouldn’t…

Then he pulls her into the hug she’d suggested and she feels the minute trembling of his muscles again. I’ll think about this later. and with that she shuts it out of her mind and tries to shove herself back into the role of ‘concerned friend’ which isn’t as hard as it might be, because Matthew really isn’t doing well. And neither am I. Neither are any of us. She moves her arms up from her sides to return the hug and presses her face against his shoulder, releasing a much-needed sigh after her hitched inhales of the past few minutes. It’s hard not to feel at least a little bit safer with most any situation when you’re being hugged by a seven-foot tall and not out-of-shape person regardless of whether or not they’re not doing so well at the moment and you’re the one trying to comfort them and Laurie lets the comforted, safe, right-ness (for lack of a better word) translate to pheromones if it will- not that she’s entirely sure she could stop it if she wanted to. At least that can’t hurt anyone not like…oh! she realizes what else she’s emitting belatedly and blushes hotly.

“Thought you might care for a change of attire,”

There’s a strange mixture of relief and disappointment as she takes the excuse to pull back and look up at Mr. Putzkammer dazedly as if he’s offered her some incomprehensible puzzle instead of a tee-shirt. “Oh, um, yes. Thank you.” she says softly after her sluggish mind has processed the words and she reaches up for the smaller shirt, slipping her arms out of the sleeves of her plain sleeping shirt and blanching as she realizes for the first time just how much blood she has on her. “Oh.” she whispers, staring wide eyed at the rust-colored splotches and running a quick mental catalogue of who it belongs to, squeezing her eyes shut for a moment before slipping the white x-shirt over her blood splotched tee-shirt and pulling the ruined garment out through the neck hole of the new shirt.

She looks down at the fabric for a moment before folding it carefully, a nonsensical motion since the shirt is doubtlessly ruined but one that seems essential in the moment, before reaching out to rest a hand on Matthew’s arm in an unconscious, anchoring gesture.

[Matthew Craft]

It's funny really, though Matthew's not laughing. The hug is nice...really comforting. It's exactly what he needed, and he figures that Laurie shares the same sentiment as her arms wrap around him. Or rather, as far around him as she can manage. She's warm, he realizes slowly, nice and warm.

He can feel her head resting lightly on his shoulder and her unsteady breath dancing across his neck. Matthew almost feels tempted to smile, but the motion is squashed when he remembers just how they got into this situation. He feels his fingers tense slightly, pressing the tips a little firmer into her, but Matthew makes sure it's not enough to hurt.

"Just......get.......a room.........you two............mmph............................"

Part of Tobias' pain-filled comment makes it to Matthew's ears and it helps him realize the possible romantic undertones beneath Laurie's and his embrace. Oddly enough though, it doesn't bother him in the least.

He starts feeling particularly tranquil, and while normally he'd wonder where the sensation was coming from, he's content just to hold Laurie to him and enjoy the soothing feeling. He feels his breathing slow and deepen and his entire body begins to relax, except for his arms, which pull her closer, if that's even possible. It's no lie that he had some feelings for the smaller blonde, but as he holds her, he can actually feel them growing stronger. Knowing that she was there, with him, after all that's happened...knowing that she's safe and holding him....

He's jolted out of his thoughts and rammed back into reality when Mr. Putzkammer shoves a clean shirt in his face.

Laurie receives one as well, and disengages from their embrace, no matter how much Matthew wants to protest. She then quickly but discretely changes into it. The bloodied t-shirt she discards only reminds him of his own damp and heavy one. Fumbling with the hem of his shirt, not caring for the way his sister's blood made it stick to his skin, he pulls it off in one clean motion. Matthew crumples it into a ball and sets it aside, grimacing when he notes that some of the red fluid had tinged his chest a light burgundy.

He leans forward again and rubs his eyes, the image of his injured sister stained on the inside of his eyelids, refusing to leave him be. He runs his hands through his short hair and looks back up at Laurie when she touches his arm gently.

Vaguely remembering that he hadn't put his new shirt on, he numbly pulls it over his head, breaking his contact with Laurie long enough to feed his arms through the appropriate holes. The shirt is a little snugger than his last one, but caring about such minute things has descended too far down the list for him even to notice. Instead, he aims for the consolation of Laurie's touch, this time taking a careful hold of her hand, squeezing it gently as he leans back against the wall.

Mr. Putzkammer is still waiting patiently and as much as he doesn't want Laurie to go away, he finally lets her wounded head take precedence. Without letting go of her hand, he point up to his History teacher. "You should let him..." He stops and clears his throat, but his voice fails to return. So he makes a spinning motion around his head with his free hand, hoping the motion is vaguely resembling 'get bandaged up.'

Matthew prays it doesn't take long, because he's not sure how long he'd last without Laurie there with him. The thought of her leaving him, however briefly, is already starting an insistent tugging on his heart.

[Laurie Collins]

The soft noise the fabric of Matthew’s bloody tee-shirt makes as it separates grudgingly from the skin of his chest, the fibers cemented there by dried blood, is another curiously magnified sound. Like the droplets of blood falling to the floor from a few minutes ago the sound is intensified until it fills her senses, and she winces in sympathy, gaze lingering on the burgundy spot on his chest. Even caught up in the trauma of the entire experience there’s a jolt as she realizes that he’s shirtless now and she averts her eyes quickly, blushing a little and hoping he won’t notice. How can I even think of being shy or…noticing… with all this? But life doesn’t stop even for the unthinkable. While she sits on the floor of a medlab contained in a top secret sub-basement with injured all around her and her one friend at the institute practically catatonic she can feel her right leg falling asleep, while dried blood cakes on her temples and her stomach rebels she can feel an itch developing between her shoulder-blades. Maybe that should be a relief but it isn’t, it’s a reminder that this is real, that she won’t just wake up or shake off the situation like so many drops of water. I wish my mom were here.

When he shifts his arm away and takes hold of her hand she looks up again and tries to smile at him, it’s not usually an automatic impulse for her but right now her world has effectively narrowed to what she can do, be here holding Matthew’s hand, to the exclusion of everything else that she can no more control than she can go back to 7:00 that morning when she’d been drowsy and content and unable to imagine this much blood. Somehow it’s worked her way into her mind that she is beyond her own control, driftwood to be buffeted about by the will of wind or wave, but if she can take care of someone she cares about then maybe it won’t all be so senseless.

"You should let him..."

She’s been so caught up in her thoughts that she’s forgotten Mr. Putzkammer again. Now, as Matthew reminds her, she looks up at him with dazed reluctance and tightens her grip on Matthew’s hand a bit. Sitting here with him is secure, she’s looking after him and he’s a solid anchor. The idea of dissolving that security, even for a few minutes, is definitely not appealing. “Do I have to go over there?” she asks softly, gesturing with her free hand to the examination table nearest them, “I-I mean if it’s just the same for me to sit here then maybe I could just stay?” she adds haltingly, hopefully.