notrosecolored

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.

Alan just shook his head a little at Warren, clearly letting the words slide off his back, and kept his eye on Scott. He was an old hand at standing at bedsides, for good or ill. And he wanted to know the boy was breathing, his focus on catching any unconscious signs of pain. His color certainly looked better, at least. Now it was Warren looking a little pale.

Alan reached into a pocket and pulled out a candy bar, holding it out to Warren.

"Here. I'll get another one before I go home. I keep it around for emergencies anyway."

Because when one of your best friend's was a speedster, you kept high calorie, high sugar items on hand. There was no telling when you'd get stuck somewhere where he'd need a bit of fuel. And that wasn't even taking into account the number of teenagers and young adults he looked out for.

Hank excused himself again - he was the doctor, but Scott was in good hands for the practical bits and Hank could analyze that blood sample more, and watch the readouts being sent to monitors back there, through the table itself.

Warren was effectively a giant bird of prey - his entire body was adapted for flight, including his metabolism. Which meant that even without the blood loss, he would have needed food after a fast as hell flight down to the the Mansion. After losing the blood, well, he wasn't going to argue about being given a candy bar from a nice guy who insisted on calling him son.

"Thank you." He was back to being polite as he opened the wrapper. "You should be able to replace it here, and should." They had a lot of kids who ate. Some because they were teenagers, some because their mutations burned extra energy and they needed the calories, some because they'd been starved and needed food security.

On the table Scott was... less unconscious than he had been, in part due to the jolt of pain that came from having his arm set. He was restless, and pretty obviously uncomfortable at least. Trying to shift his position, tightening his jaw here and there, eyebrows drawing down in a mild grimace. Unrestrained, he probably would have wound up curled up in a fetal position but that wasn't possible at the moment and shouldn't be.

"I know why Charles isn't helping him with this, but that doesn't make it any easier to watch." That was for Alan's benefit. Momentary snark aside, he liked the guy and he clearly cared about Scott.

"You're welcome," he said, first and foremost. Because manners.

"Though I can't say it's ever easy to watch good people in pain," Alan said quietly, though for all that he said, he kept watching. After a few moments, he looked up to check on Warren and gave him a faint, warm smile.

"Don't forget to get some water as well."

"You do realize that I'm well over 18," he said, somewhat dryly. He was at least catching onto the fact that this was just Alan's personality.

It was odd, but it came from a good place and Warren could work with that.

"My blood works on me, too. My blood volume will be back to normal before Scott's awake." He paused to eat more of the candy bar, then asked. "Are you intending to stay with him until he is?"

"I'm a little creaky but I'm not blind quite yet," he answered with a quick little smile. Yes, he'd noticed. That changed very little.

He let out a sigh at the real question, though, glancing down at Scott.

"I was planning on it, to be honest. No where else I've got to be at the moment, so unless I get an emergency signal from home, I'm doing what I can to help."

He pointed at one of the loops holding Scott to the bed.

"Wouldn't do to let him wake up and wrench something, after all."

He was concerned about Sand but when it came to that, he wasn't sure what he could do. Sand was... well, he was much like his mentor: something of an enigma who kept his cards very close to his chest. He hadn't always been that way, but Alan supposed it had something to do with the weight of his visions, something the nightmares did.

He'd asked Wesley about it once, what they were like, what made them so terrible. After all, they saw horrible things often enough, unfortunately. What was it that made him look so haunted?

I don't just see the crimes, Alan. I connect with the minds of the criminals, see into the pits of their souls so I know them. So I can find them. It's important work... but I wouldn't wish it on anyone.

It was something he wondered about sometimes, if Wes knew that at his death, his visions would be passed on. He didn't think so, most of the time. Especially when he saw Sandy at his worst, strung out, awake for over a week or more...

When he saw that, he couldn't imagine Wesley knowingly doing that to Sand. He'd spent most of his life trying to cure the boy, considered him his son the same way he'd considered Dian his 'wife' even if they'd never formalized it, and he'd never forgiven himself for what had happened in that lab all those years ago. Wesley hadn't been perfect, none of them were perfect for goodness sake, but of all of them, he'd never been needlessly cruel. No, he had a feeling Mordru or not, Wes would have tried harder had he known what it would do to his golden boy.

Thoughts still swirling on the issue of Sand, on this strange and very possibly brilliant plan from Michael, he tilted his head.

"Just let me know if you need me to do anything. I don't want to take up space in your medical bay as a nuisance."

Warren shook his head, minutely, and rose from his chair. "No." He didn't need anything, and Alan wasn't a nuisance. He stretched his body out, though his wings stayed folded tight in deference to the relatively tight quarters.

"If you're willing to stay with him, I'll take those files to the Professor. He isn't down far now, and he'll... have an easier time of it, if I'm not here the moment he opens his eyes." Which was to say Scott wouldn't immediately try and slam up the facade. Part of the reason Hank was giving Scott more space. "Make sure you're ready to hand him his visor when he comes around."

Staying blind was not Scott's favorite thing.

Warren turned to go and said, "Thank you."

Scott was in good hands. So, actually, was Sand.

Alan nodded and gave Warren a hopeful little smile, trying his best to convey the feeling that everything would be all right in time.

"I'll make sure to hand it to him. Thank you for running the files over."

Sandy

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