notrosecolored

Scott's condition was deteriorating. His complexion was turning ashen - complete with an every-so-slightly blue undertone. His breathing was turning a little erratic and actively labored instead of just shallow, and as soon as he'd made what had to happen known he stopped reacting to what was happening around him entirely.

Fortunately, Allison was self-absorbed in the way only a traumatized child can be. Scott was upright and had just been talking, so he was clearly fine. Also, magic and powers and teleportation.

Allison looked and was pretty well dubious but said, "All right.... " Because what the hell else was she going to do? She was a kid with nowhere else to go, and a whole bunch of people hated her for things she didn't want. Safe was few and far between.

That roused Scott enough to get his head up. "We need to get out of here." Now. Right fucking now.

Sandy nodded in agreement.

"Come on." And he went to duck under Scott's shoulder because he hadn't been calling attention to it, but he sure as hell wasn't about to prolong how long it took them to get to medical care for something as stupid as pride.

He tipped his head to the door.

"You mind getting the door, Allison?"

Allison went and got the door, but she was clearly worried now.

Scott... staggered sideways and stumbled when Sandy tried to help him. Not so much because of pride but because he wasn't awake and alert enough to keep his balance with any real help at all.

"We need to talk when we get back," he mumbled, low enough for the teenager to miss it. Then put up and shut up and got in the damned SUV.

In the back, leaving Allison to take the passenger side and Sandy to drive.

What did they ened to talk about? The fact that he was worried about Sandy, too. He hadn't missed all the shit, and he wouldn't push and would back off, but he'd sure as shit check in.

Sandy was functional for the moment, though. Sandy's issues were entirely mental at this point, and that meant that he could utilize his will to show them down if he needed to. He'd pay for it later, yes, he definitely would, but for now, he could drive the truck across the street where a non-descript blond man was standing around with a briefcase, looking at his watch. When Sandy saw him, he actually smiled and immediately turned the truck in that direction. He pulled up and tipped his head towards the passenger seat.

The blond man looked over at Scott, clearly alarmed before a flutter of green flame slipped into the jeep. A couple of the wounds were now covered with construct bandaids and there was a construct sling for Scott to put his arm into around his neck.

"Looks like things went a little rougher than you were expecting."

"Something like that, Alan. Get in and we'll head off onto the side road where you can transport us."

Alan climbed without further ado and soon enough, they were back on the road.

"Where'm I bringing you, Sand?" came the question as soon as they were far away enough from civilization and prying eyes.

"Xavier's School. As close as you can get us."

Alan nodded, which was when the lot of them were consumed by green, heatless flames.

If Scott were a bit more with it, he would have complained and snarked. As it stood, most of what he did was nothing. He could have snorted if he could have breathed, or glared if his eyes weren't hidden, but given everything he really just... ignored the silliness of bandaids and slings.

It was a kind of endearing gesture, anyway.

Then he passed out.

For her part Allison was very, very still and quiet. She squeaked and lit up like a Christmas tree when the flames came up - and an all too literal, white light, Christmas tree with lights rather than metaphorical happiness.

She didn't relax, but it didn't hurt and it was pretty and it was pretty brief.

And as soon as they were on the grounds, they were being met by four people striding toward the vehicle. A woman with silver hair and loose flowing clothes who radiated calmness, a light brown haired man a few years and several inches shorter than Scott, a man who looked like nothing so much as a bipedal blue lion, and a tall blonde with piercing blue eyes, a five hundred dollar hair cut, an expensive tailored suit and - enormous white wings.

The wings made Sandy's lips go thin but he pushed that aside and slipped out of the jeep immediately. Alan got out as well, making sure to grab his suitcase, a turn of his hand producing a glowing green gurney beside the jeep.

"Don't worry. It's solid."

Sandy made his way over to Allison and turned his body to the side, not standing between her and all the new strangers but there if she might need it. He wasn't anyone's favorite person, Allison no doubt included, but he at least had the advantage of not having done anything harmful to her for the last few hours. That probably counted for something.

"Sand and Sentinel," Sand introduced them with a nod to each, "and Allison." To the girl.

Their approach was intimidating. Oh, not in intent, but they were all soldiers of a sort, all worried, and all moving with purpose, even Bobby. That made them all seem more threatening than they would have, had this recon actually been the milk run they'd expected.

Allison responded by taking Sand's sleeve - Scott's sleeve - in her hand and holding on.

Once they got there, though, they split off.

Warren and Hank worked in concert to get Scott out of the SUV and onto the gurney. Hank did a very, very cursory exam and Warren rolled up his (tailored) shirt sleeves above the elbow while Storm and Bobby (and that was how they introduced themselves) handled introductions for the four of them.

"We'll take care of him." Warren said it, just as they were starting to leave and, he looked... incredibly pained, around the eyes. and in the set of his mouth.

Storm took a moment to turn her attention to Allison. "He'll be all right." She sounded sad and worried, but smiled at the girl, anyway, even as she clutched a bit at Sand. "Do you want to see your room?" Allison was not a bit sure of that but nodded her agreement.

Which left Bobby to say: "We've got fresh coffee on in the kitchen and a couple of rooms ready for you two, if you're going to stay."

Sand was surprised, but only for a moment. A moment after that, he turned his hand and took Allison's delicately in his own. Then he looked down at Allison.

"I'll walk with you," Sand told her quietly, "but I've heard the rooms here are really nice."

Alan joined the other two, walking along with the gurney.

"Just let me know if there's any equipment you need," Alan told them both as they made their way. "I sub in pieces for people all the time."

Warren didn't intend to be abrupt and dismissive, but he was both of those things. He was both of those things because he was deeply, deeply worried about Scott and more than a little frustrated and angry with him, too. "The only equipment we need is a tube and a couple of needles."

Hank stepped in, both to the conversation and elevator - though he held the elevator for the other men. "Warren's blood has healing properties." He was mostly, for all his usual verbosity, focused on Scott and his pulse and respiration. "While unconventional it is the surest method of ensuring our fearless leader heals rather than does himself further damage."

It wasn't the first time. It wouldn't be the last.

"You are of course," Hank went on, "more than welcome to come observe - and of course be on hand should something go awry and we find ourselves in need of your abilities."

Warren, literally ruffled his feathers, but didn't protest.

Alan didn't wait. He'd done more than his share of producing medical equipment over the years. And he'd had to do it for the JSA's leader more than once. No one liked to think of that time a security breech had nearly lost them Michael but that didn't mean it hadn't happened.

A faintly glowing green tube with a needle on either end as well as a bit of constructed tape to stick it on appeared in the air over Scott's body.

"I've held my constructs up through hell and high water, boys. Including heart surgery on a dear friend. If you want to get it done, get it done."

"We do have a fully stocked medical lab." That was worth pointing out, because that was where they were headed. And Warren wasn't giving up his arm in a moving elevator unless Scott was in danger of dying in the next five minutes.

Which, from the look on Hank's feline face and fact that those enormous clawed paws were still pressed against Scott's throat, monitoring his pulse. Warren could hear that he was breathing too slowly. It might actually be a concern.

Hank hesitated, debated and locked eyes with Warren. Then the elevator dinged as it touched down in the basement and doors slid open, spilling them into a state of the art medical lab, filled with gleaming metal. .

Warren snagged the tubing from out of the air. Hank said: "If I know Scott, I'll need help keeping his arm down for a blood draw and to set the needle for the transfusion. Sentinel?"

Warren could handle himself. He'd done this enough that getting a chair pulled up to the nearest table and sticking himself right fucking now was manageable. "Heart surgery?"

Alan wasn't exactly unfamiliar with diagnosing the level of injuries on the battlefield. Which was why he'd produced the tube in the first place...

And why Scott was clamped down with glowing green loops to the bed.

"Our surgeon's equipment had been ruined by the same villain who'd done the damage. So I produced what he needed to get the job done."

Because sometimes, you just made due. He'd had plenty of experience in that with the All Star Squadron years ago.

Hank tossed Warren a rubber tourniquet. Warren grabbed it from the air and used his teeth to pull it tight around his arm. From there it was just a matter of getting the needle into a vein, and he got that done easily and quickly. By the time Hank had managed to get a blood sample from Scott, Warren was ready.

He stretched his wings out enough to get them out from under him, and kept an eye on Hank and Scott. Mostly on Scott's face, actually.

"That must have been a harrowing operation." For everyone involved.

Hank finished the blood sample, set up the rest of the equipment and Warren released the clamp so his blood would be picked up by Scott's body. His eyes didn't really leave Scott's face.

"He left a me a voice mail before you left. He suggested I make a visit, if I could find the time. That's the most the dick's said to me for three months." Which said something about Scott. And Warren. So did the fact that there was that rustle of feather's again, lifting and resettling.

Hank - took his blood sample and shuffled off to analyze it. He wanted to figure out what had been used on Scott. He was sure there was something else in play. Warren's blood would still handle it, but they needed to know.

"Considering we were under attack? Somewhat," and Alan sounded relatively calm about the whole thing, but it was clearly not because he was trying to sound matter-of-fact. He was just a rather calm man in general. He needed to be, after all. Especially when maintaining delicate equipment.

Then he was looking down at Scott.

"For what it's worth, I've heard nothing but good things about the young man. And it's a good thing he's got such good friends looking out for him."

His eyes hadn't left Scott, as much because of his need to concentrate as because... well, he didn't look much different from his own son. He hated to see any of the kids get hurt.

Scott would have laughed at being called a kid by anyone, regardless of their age. Fortunately, though his color was ever-so-slightly improving and he was breathing more easily, Scott was still unconscious.

"If Scott has friends, it's in spite of his best efforts, not because of them." Irony here - Warren was sitting there bleeding for Scott, looking at him with obvious concern and worry, but - prickly, tense, upset. Some of it was simply reaction to worry, but there was more to it than that. More than that didn't mean that he didn't love Scott. Just like loving Scott didn't mean he didn't want to shake the man until his teeth rattled.

"Since you're up and more mobile than I am, pull that visor off - cover his eyes with something light, but get it off him."

He paused and then remembered to add: "Please."

He had manners, dammit.

Alan nodded and a beam of green light carefully lifted the visor off before replacing it with another band of green energy.

"I've found those kinds of friends to be the most important of all," Alan said, his voice very gentle. "And the ones who make them need them more than most."

Scott stirred very faintly in response to the weight of his visor lifting and actually resisted the other restraints for a moment or two before settling down again. With his face intuitively turned away from both of them.

Warren reached for the visor because it was going to be necessary when Scott woke up, but frankly his skin needed the break and Warren knew that better than Scott.

"...You remind me of Storm." Alan was calming Warren down, too, though. "Who are you thinking of when you say that?"

"You saw the young man with the little girl?" he asked without looking away from Scott. He was Warren's patient, Hank's patient, but Alan hadn't taken the name of Sentinel for no reason. He was, at his heart, a protector. It was why he was a part of the JSA. The younger generation might have all manner of powers and technology and they were all so damn capable... but he'd do his best, his very best, til his dying breath to protect them anyway. It was a pipe dream for any of them to feel safe, but he'd always try.

And I shall shed my light over dark evil... for the dark things cannot stand the light...

"He's one. There are others. Most of my friends, to some degree."

Really, the only exception was Jay. Not liking Jay was some sort of strange indicator of evil.

Scott wasn't Warren's patient. Warren ran a business. He was no more medical trained than he was a ballerina. The only healing he did came from his blood, and the only pushing he'd done were things related to Scott's basic level of comfort. Because he was Scott's friend - the oldest living, along with Bobby and Hank.

"Scott has never been the warm and friendly sort. Since his wife was killed he's been... impenetrable. No one can reach him. If he keeps going on this way, I don't think he's going to live long enough for us to figure out how to."

Scott would hate him for saying that and just then, Warren didn't care. Because Warren was his own kind of prickly, uptight, asshole here and there but he was also Angel. No one, but no one, should ever be confused about his codename, and it really wasn't just because of the wings, the arrogance, the capacity for ferocity under fire and in defense. There was also something fundamentally... compassionate and warm in him.

That came out primarily when he wasn't being those other things, but there all the same.

Alan seemed to digest that information for a moment before nodding, something falling into place. He should have known. Maybe some part of him had known. But of course, Michael had seen it first. Michael played the part of cold, calculating genius. He hid behind his t-spheres and his computers and that intimidating black T on his face, but Michael had taken up the cause of Terry Sloane. He had looked at the tragedy of his own life and decided to dedicate his life to the simplest of concepts: Fair Play.

To leveling the playing field. To helping good people have happy, fulfilling lives. To giving everyone an even chance at happiness.

Of course Michael had seen it, and of course he'd tried to save two birds with one stone.

"I see why he was sent on a mission with Sand, then. I'll be curious to see what they both say when this one's awake."

But it reminded him of something. He pulled up his briefcase and put it down on one of the other cots, opening it with a line of green flame and pulling out the folded clothes he'd brought for sandy, as well as his wirepoon gun, the gas gun, and a cannister holster. At the bottom of it all was a hard drive.

"This is the information that was obtained from the base where they were taken and held. The base has been destroyed at this point, though two rooms were left undamaged. They contained the Purifier agents who were within the base at the time of their escape. Police and some of our friends in the FBI have been pulling them out for questioning and charges since about an hour after the information was received."

Warren was still tethered to Scott, blood flowing slowly into him. It prevented him reaching for the hard-drive, but he was immediately interested.

"The charges won't stick. If there are charges that do, they won't have anything to do with what they did to Scott. They might manage to make a case for kidnapping Allison from her cell." That was about the best he could hope for.

He wasn't as angry about it as Scott was, wasn't as bitter, and resigned wasn't right, either. Just... accepting that it was what it was, at least for the time being. That he'd hacked his own wings off as a child in response to that public opinion, though, and his father's reaction to having a mutant child....

Well, he had a pretty good understanding of it, at least he thought he did.

The files, he knew, Scott would be glad to have. Would use, and would make sure some kind of justice happened. Not so much for himself, but Allison, and Jean, and all the others.

"Why were Scott and Sand sent out together?" He didn't have the first idea what was happening, there.

"We're aware," Alan said, and while he was still seemingly calm, there was righteous anger in his eyes. He was the Keeper of the Green Flame. More than that, he was the Green Flame at this point, and he his daughter might not have been a mutant, but she had lived her life with green skin. She'd also died in his arms.

"Which is why we have Doctor Fate and Jakeem Thunder on the scene. Not a single one of those agents is going to know a day of good luck the rest of their lives."

While neither were apt to do anything that could be called a 'curse' of any sort, even the Thunderbolt due to Jakeem's own morality, it was simple enough to turn their own karmic debt upon them. Or so Hector had explained before he'd headed out. If they were playing DnD, the easiest way to explain it would be to say that the lot of them would fumble every 'roll' they made for the rest of their lives.

"Believe me when I say that it will... seriously hamper their effectiveness."

He watched Scott for a few moments before he remembered the question that'd been asked.

"Not to be obtuse, but it's a little hard to put into words. Let's just say that I believe that it'll be good for both of them. Suffice to say, Scott is not the only one who's been... closed off for a while."

"I believe you."

He believed Alan and he wasn't a bit sorry for the situation or people who would find themselves less effective, and he hoped like hell Alan was right about Sand and Scott helping each other.

Warren wasn't above being vindictive at times, but he'd usually be at least somewhat conflicted. In this case, it was only just. They wouldn't be getting the punishment they deserved from the system, because the system saw Scott as the threat against public safety.

Hank reappeared from his office to say, grimly, "You'll have no complaints from me, either. Not only was he beaten, he was dosed with sedatives that would have come near to putting Logan on his grumpy rear for quite some time." Which was more scary for him than the injuries.

Then he took Scott's arm in both huge blue hands, and stretched it, realigning the broken bones before Warren's blood healed it into a position that wasn't quite right. Scott - jerked and screamed, even without being awake. Warren - flinched hard, actively recoiled back into his chair.

Alan didn't so much as flinch, the bonds holding Scott in place. He reached out a hand to Warren, though.

"Steady, son," to Warren before turning a warm, wry smile on Hank. "Good set. He'll thank you for that when he's up. Whether it comes out of his mouth or not."

If there were mutants around who didn't have some sort of complicated issues with their parents.... they were probably Logan, actually. Warren wasn't one of them.

"I'm sorry," he said, cool and somewhat overly composed. "I wasn't aware you had that sort of relationship with my mother. You really should have told me sooner." He was mature, yep.

Hank, at the same time or nearly so said: "If I expected verbal gratitude from the vast majority of my patients, I am afraid I'd be sorely dissatisfied." He was used to not hearing it and that was fine with him, even if he was often exasperated. Then he answered a question Warren wasn't verbalizing: "I can not give him anything for pain control in conjunction with the sedative he was injected with." Though - He peered at Warren closely.

Then walked over, and dispassionately closed the clamp between them and pulled the needle from Warren's arm, and then Scott's.

Sandy

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