Sandy

[notrosecolored]

Scott said he'd be there with information in five minutes. He was at the door, fully dressed and with his glasses replaced by a visor, in four. It took him that long to grab a cup of coffee and walk to the lounge where Sandy was waiting.

He got his debriefing on the move, and directly into his brain.

He felt better for having been looped in, however perfunctorily.

He walked in, and stayed standing up. Looked the guy over, and wondered why the hell this kid was the recon specialist and then moved on.

"New mutant manifested in Chicago. She's sitting in a jail cell, supposedly for her protection. We're going to get her. How long do you need to pack?"

Comments

[notrosecolored]

Scott's hair was still matted with blood, and he was pale as fuck. His jaw was still set, and he was driving with one hand and the other one was resting in his lap, but he was driving. "No."

Limited words. "After the hotel and phone call." He paused and added: "And coffee." For Sand. "I'll be fine once we get back." He had friends. God, he hoped he could still get Warren in. That was... a risk after Jean's death, but. Maybe. Maybe. If not, Hank could handle whatever needed to be handled.

All Allison said was 'Okay'. She was going to be keeping her eyes forward resolutely, now. Probably now and until Sandy was clothed, because that was just a little bit weird. She wanted to know more but not with a naked man in the car, thanks. She'd gotten a few answers while Sand was 'asleep' back there, anyway.

[granularity]

Sandy looked him up and down, took in the blood, took in the set of his jaw and his skin tone, and gave him a very firm Look.

"Don't be a stubborn ass," was all he said before reaching down to pull one of the floormats up to at least make things mildly less awkward. He wasn't actually going to fight Scott, but he would make his opinion known. No pushing seemed to be the order of the day.

[notrosecolored]

"Pulling over to let you drive the ten minutes to the hotel just wastes time. Once you're appropriately clothed and home knows that we're on the way in and there are files, you can do the twelve hours back to New York."

Scott wouldn't even complain. See? He wasn't a stubborn ass. He was just doing what had to be done in the most efficient way possible.

And speaking of, he abruptly gave his signal and at the same time took a hard right onto an exit ramp.

[granularity]

"Mr. Terrific got the files," Sandy informed him as he lay back against the seat. He wasn't great either, but at least he didn't have the problem of bleeding. Or blood. Or, technically, organs.

God, what the hell was he? Sometimes, it was actually worrying.

"And we're not driving back to New York like this. You need medical attention, so does she, and Alan can get us there in an instant. I'll call in when we get back to the hotel."

[notrosecolored]

"We'd better be getting copies of those files," Scott managed. He said it flatly, and his voice wasn't right and neither was his intonation, but he was going to leave it alone after that. Frankly, they could fight over that part later. Let Charles know, let Charles handle it.

Scott ran the school and the X-men but sometimes, just sometimes, being able to drop a problem like this in someone else's lap was nice.

Like when he had a cracked skull, a broken arm, and a probably punctured lung. And was still trying to fight through a sedative fog.

It was really nice, then. God, Charles should have found someone who was invulnerable to lead this fucking team. Someone who healed or hit hard or - There were options that were better than 'concussive blasts'. Bobby, maybe. No wait, Bobby couldn't lead a conga line.

Good news? He was so busy being stubborn about that, he didn't protest the method of transportation. It was a good idea. Faster. Would be better if he trusted these people further than he could throw them right now, but that was an intuitive kind of thing and Scott was ignoring it.

Allison, meanwhile, popped up with: "You know I'm here, right? And they didn't do anything to me. I don't need medical attention."

[granularity]

Sand kept himself still, still enough he almost set himself off again. It was close enough that there was just the faintest tremor, small enough that no one in the Jeep would even feel it over the car's movement.

He breathed in and out and in and out and his voice wasn't right either, but it was less flat and more... brittle.

"Of course," because he couldn't... do this. Not right now. Not with Scott injured and a kid relying on them, whatever bravery she was pulling out to cling to.

But he wasn't sure what he could do.

Except

He could call Alan. He could hold it together until Alan got there.

Move past it, Sand. Move past it or die. And you're not dying.

You haven't even figured out how to.

[notrosecolored]

Scott was conscious, upright, driving, and taking care of shit that needed to be taken care of. That was all. Period. He was aware Sand wasn't all right, though without a clear idea of why, and knew that Allison had to be shocked and traumatized even if she was still holding it together.

This wasn't his first rodeo.

The rest of the drive to the motel was quiet, though.

Once they got there he cut the engine on the jeep - or, well, yanked the hot-wiring job, and got out. He unlocked the SUV with the remote key he, somehow, still had in his uniform. Allison got out and stood behind him, his jacket basically swallowing her. "Get inside and get dressed. My clothes are in my bag. Unlock the door from the inside and I'll make the call I need to make while you're getting decent. Allison - how long's it been since you've eaten?"

He'd... fall apart later. Physically

She mumbled something about not being hungry and pointedly did not look anywhere near Sandy.

[granularity]

He noticed and focused his own attention on Scott, struggling with his subconscious to remember it was almost certainly about the nakedness. Almost. Certainly.

Then he nodded and phased down into the pavement, leaving the floor mat behind. The door would be unlocked when Scott got to the room. The bathroom door would be locked, however.

[notrosecolored]

Sure. Blame... whatever you wanted on the nakedness, Sand. Scott had no idea what that thing was, but he wasn't in any condition to be starting stupid fights.

He got inside with Allison, started the cheap, bad motel coffee machine going for sand, and found his cellphone to call back to the Mansion. He gave only the very, very bare minimum of information in his report, but he did ask that Storm and Hank meet them.

Then he hesitated and made another call. To another New York residence.

He didn't get an answer, but left a reluctant, hesitant, voice mail that didn't say a lot before he cut the call.

Allison just stood around and looked... wide-eyed and very, very young. More 9 than 12, at the moment.

[granularity]

Sandy came out of the bathroom a moment after the end of the call, straightening the sleeves on his borrowed shirt. Funnily enough, he and Scott shared a size of shoulders, but Scott was a few inches taller. It meant he was rolling those sleeves up just a little not to look silly. He'd already fixed the pants while he was in there.

He didn't say a word. Just went to the phone and placidly placed his call, keeping the actual content short.

"Gas station nearest to O'Hare. We'll meet you there in half an hour tops."

A beat before, softer, warmer--

"Thanks, Alan."

Once the phone was hung up again, he went to the coffee maker to get himself some coffee, started to step away, reconsidered, and grabbed the two 'guest' tea bags from the package near the pot. Both were popped into the remaining two paper coffee cups. He brought the first over to the table, nearest Allison, and put it down with a pair of sugar packets for her. The other was placed on the opposite side of the table with three sugar packets, nearer to Scott, before he made his way to the farthest corner from the both of them and sipped at his own drink.

[notrosecolored]

Scott had more than a little experience with teenagers in this situation and, in those rare instances when he could stop being Cyclops, wasn't half bad with them.

Actually, Scott was good with kids. He liked kids. He was all too aware of what the world thought of them and the very real possibility that he would end up leading them in combat - and possibly leading them to their death - but he could be amazingly good with children for a man who's reputation said that he was anything but warm or a people person.

Then again, maybe not such a surprise. At the end of the day, these kids were his mission.

He could even manage it with teammates, though he usually managed that with distance and letting them take care of each other. It'd been a while since he was in a position to be part of the group instead of setting himself apart.

Even when he was in pain and only narrowly conscious, he knew how to manage that. So he let her fix the sleeves of his jacket and work her hands out, prepare her tea without looking at either one of them and actually went ahead and fixed up his, too. He was clumsy, visibly starting to struggle with even basic motor control, but he got it done. Kept his breathing even, if shallow in deference to pain and pressure.

Let Sand have his space on the other side of the room and then started talking - and drawing her out with very, very simple questions about normal things he already knew the answers to. He asked Allison her name. He asked her how old she was, what grade she was in, He got her to talk to him about music. He talked about the school and told her about some of the students and classes and clubs. He just... gave her a tiny bit of stability amongst all the weirdness.

And she responded to that. She didn't think he was nice or trying to coddle her or anything, but she spent that time going from almost completely mute and giving one word answers to asking questions about the school and curious enough to be looking forward to it a bit.

Sandy... he just kept an eye on as best he could and let have his silence and coffee.

[granularity]

"The gas station is across the street," Sandy said mildly after some of the discussion had died down. "We can leave the SUV and walk or bring it with us. Alan--" He realized he hadn't been using codenames. Mostly because he'd been thinking of Alan Scott, one of the first and the brightest. Jack always called him the Chuck Yeager of the original mystery men, and Sand had always agreed with him on that point.

"Sentinel," he corrected, "won't have any trouble bringing the SUV, but if you think there might be something bugged on it, we can also leave it. That's your decision."

He wasn't wearing a mask, because he didn't have a mask. But he was wearing the mask. Just a little. Then--

"How's the tea?" That was directed, mildly, to Allison.

[notrosecolored]

"The vehicle needs to come back with us." It didn't matter if it was bugged. They didn't exactly keep their location secret - they couldn't. It wasn't any great loss, either, but there was no point in leaving it behind. They'd search it, strip it if they had to before they took it out again, but abandoning it wouldn't help in any regard.

That was all Scott said.

Allison looked at Sand, curiously, and frowned just a little bit. Looked down at her tea and then back up to him. "It's okay?" A pause. "Who is this person? How is he getting a truck all the way to New York?"

Scott... was going to leave Sand to it again, now that things had unwound some. He was going to work on breathing and lean against a wall to stay upright and let them have at it until they moved across the street.

[granularity]

He glanced over at Scott, took in his condition, and answered him with a simple nod. Fine, the vehicle came back. He'd only made sure to make arrangements in the case that Scott wanted to leave it. He had no feelings on it either way.

When he turned back to Allison, he frowned a little at himself out of frustration. Usually, he had his phone with him to show pictures. Without it, he just had his words... and he'd always taken after Wes instead of his aunt Dian.

"His name is Alan, like I said. Alan Scott. He was the original Green Lantern. You've heard of Green Lantern, haven't you? Though..." he wasn't sure how useful that comparison was. Technically, Alan had been honorarily inducted by the Guardians on Oa but he was about the farthest thing from a traditional Green Lantern there was. His power was fueled by the Starheart, the accumulated magic of an entire universe. "He's a little different. He's a very good friend of mine, a very old friend. He's looked out for me since I was about your age, honestly. But he has powers that area almost like magic. And what he's going to do is teleport us, and the car, to that school in Westchester that Scott mentioned."

His voice, as he talked, became more alive, warmer, as if he was slowly remembering how to be a person for the moment.

"It won't hurt. You'll hardly even realize it's happened until you look around. It's actually quite pretty."

[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.

[granularity]

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?"

[notrosecolored]

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.

[granularity]

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.

[notrosecolored]

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.

[granularity]

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.

[notrosecolored]

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."

[granularity]

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."

[armsofan]

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.

[granularity]

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."

[armsofan]

"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?"