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om_mainIllyana takes Simon, River, and Faiza back to the infirmary at the school and they start to get Simon stabilized. Jean-Paul arrives soon after to discover what has happened.
BACKDATED: June 11th, 2015
Simon tried not to register as much as possible between River's warmth appearing beside him and the wet ground beneath him suddenly giving way to smooth marble. He had a thought that he must look awful, even with Faiza's healing, since he could still feel the blood sticking to the back of his hair, his neck, his shirt.
He'd never been more grateful for Illyana's teleporting ability than he was at that moment, and that was saying a lot, since he'd thought the same thing when they'd brought Nico in. This time, it was himself and his sister he was grateful for, even if he was a little confused as to what had happened.
He focused on River's presence as Dr. MacTaggart immediately got an arm around him and began to move him toward a private bed in the back. "You're okay?" he asked his sister immediately. The last thing he remembered was being outmanned and outmaneuvered.
"I'm -" River got distracted by Moira's thoughts, and the flutter of fear that echoed her own panic, but he was alive, breathing, and he would be. She moved on the other side of him, helped him along. "...fine," she finished, glancing at him before they lowered him onto a bed.
Faiza followed, since it wasn't like Simon had another side for her to take. "I'll get something for Simon to change in to." It wouldn't be as good as his own clothes, but it would get the bloody clothes off of him for the moment. They could worry about better clothing after he was settled down for a bit.
Illyana watched Simon and River for a moment, her eyes clouded, then stepped back as far as she could in the confined space and disappeared. There wasn't anything she could do here, anyway. Maybe Phil would be off the phone by now.
Simon shook his head, then stopped, because he still had a healthy case of vertigo. Instead, he stared into River's eyes, ignoring the IV line Moira was setting up and the questions she was asking. "What happened? Did they hurt you?" He frowned and looked at Faiza. "How did you know where we were?"
River took a step back, watching Simon, then said, quietly, "They were going to keep hurting you."
Nodding toward River, Faiza picked up some scrubs that she thought were likely Simon's size. "River got ahold of Betsy Braddock and Betsy acted as relay to the headmasters. From there, it was a matter of getting Illyana to gather up the forces and get there to help." She placed the clean clothing on the bed. "I can step outside and go make some tea, if you want."
Simon frowned at River. There was something he was missing, but he dragged the scrubs closer on his lap, nodding to Faiza.
Jean-Paul was in the entryway in the next moment, bringing a rush of displaced air with him. He was far paler than usual, a sure sign of an adrenaline hit, and as soon as he had the layout of the room, he was at Simon's side. He started to reach for his hand, but habit overrode instinct...that and the blood still matting Simon's hair and staining his clothes.
"What the hell...?"
With Simon in the infirmary, it was really only a matter of time until Jean-Paul arrived. Faiza turned back, putting the tea off for the moment. "He's okay. Though he could probably use a hand getting changed."
River agreed, and took hold of Faiza's elbow to walk her out of the room. Jean-Paul and Simon could use the time alone, and if Simon kept looking at her with his unvoiced questions she felt as if she might crumble. "Thank you," she said quietly, once they were outside in the hallway. So much white, it made her skin crawl.
Simon stared after his sister for a moment, worry tightening his throat. He knew it wasn't helpful, though, so tried to turn his attention to Jean-Paul. His head was splitting, and he felt faint, the blood rushing in his ears, but he managed to meet his boyfriend's gaze. "We were attacked. I - I was attacked," he clarified. It hadn't been anyone from the Facility.
"River was there. I would say 'we' is right." She would have felt everything. To Jean-Paul's mind, there was little difference. His hands kept trying to shake, and he finally headed to the wash station. He wet one of the clean-up towels and headed back over to Simon. "Keep talking," he murmured. "I'll get this blood off of you before you change."
Simon was shaking too, nausea curdling his stomach. "I don't...I don't know what happened. Why isn't she hurt? How did they get there in time? It happened so fast. I wasn't - I wasn't fast enough."
"River took them out," Jean-Paul murmured, his voice just above a whisper. "I don't know how, but they were down when Betsy and the others arrived." He set the washcloth aside and wrapped his arms around Simon, pulling him up against his warmth. "It's all right." His accent was nearly thick enough to swallow the words. "You're both all right. Faiza put you back together."
Simon didn't like the phrasing 'back together', which implied he hadn't been together in the first place, but he found it hard to think too hard about it in the state he was in. Reaching up, he started stripping the buttons of his shirt open. "She's never going to feel safe in public again."
"Desole," Jean-Paul murmured, picking up the towel and beginning to clean the worst of the blood from the back of Simon's neck. He wanted to go charging down the halls. He wanted to keep moving until he found who had done this and he wanted to beat them until their blood ran down the street like spilled wine. But he needed to be here for Simon, even if he dare not touch him yet. "But please try not to worry about that for now."
"Make sure she's okay?" Simon reached up, stopping Jean-Paul's hand from the cleaning. No, he didn't want blood in his hair and down his back, but he also knew that they could manage something like that later. He tightened his hand on Jean-Paul's squeezing, letting his boyfriend know that he was...for the most part, whole.
"She's with Faiza, who is a lot calmer than I am right now." It wasn't a protest, not exactly. More reassurance. He squeezed Simon's hand in return, then withdrew. "I'll go. I'll go talk to her for you, and be right back. Don't worry about anything, all right?"
Oh, but he didn't want to. He needed to be at Simon's side, like he should have been earlier.
He forced something like a reassuring smile and slipped out into the hall with the girls.
"Hey, soeurette," he murmured, looking up at River. "He made me stop fussing and come check on you. So his brains can't be rattled too badly, right?"
River was sitting on the floor, with her back to the wall across from Simon's room. Her hands were curled up on her bent knees, and she didn't look up at Jean-Paul. "Little rattled. Slow and sluggish, for him."
"Which is to be expected, but there's nothing physical lingering, so that will go away with rest and a chance to replace the blood he lost." Faiza came over and crouched, offering River a cup of tea. "Nothing that time won't heal."
Jean-Paul gave Faiza a grateful look and slid down to the floor beside River. "See? And she would be the one to know. How about you? How are you doing?"
River shook her head at the cup of tea, rather than at Faiza's words; she knew the truth behind them, even if she couldn't feel the future. "You don't want to be here," River said quietly, her hands still on her bloodied knees. Simon's blood. It was all over her. "You should go back."
Faiza shifted her hands, offering it to Jean-Paul, instead. "For Simon. He needs the liquids and the warmth can't hurt." Because he'd be feeling cold, certainly, having lost so much blood.
Jean-Paul murmured his thanks and cupped his hands around the mug, but didn't try to rise yet. "I'm worried about him," he agreed. "But that doesn't mean I don't care about you."
"Tell him I'll be fine," River said, looking up at Jean-Paul from behind her hair. "He'll be fine, I'll be fine."
Faiza looked to Jean-Paul before turning back to River. "We have some showers down here if you want to wash off. I can get you some scrubs like Simon's got, or send somebody to get you clothes from your room?"
Jean-Paul hesitated, unsure if he'd been dismissed back to his post. Finally, he leaned in and pressed a kiss to her hair, as careful about skin-to-skin touch with the empath as he'd been with her brother. They were a stubborn family all around, Tams and Beaubiers.
"All right. I'll be back soon. Promise."
Part of River wanted to reach out and curl up against him, but she refrained. Remaining focused on Simon mattered more, and he should do that, too. Faiza's expectancy itched at her, her offer all but forgotten, and she looked over at her, picking it up from her all over again. "It'll still be there, even after it's gone."
"You're not going to forget it was there, no," Faiza agreed. At least, she thought that's what the other girl meant. "But it will give you some distance from what happened. Like Jean-Paul is helping Simon get some distance from what happened, too."
"Check in with me later?" Jean-Paul gave her shoulder a careful squeeze. "If you want to stay with us tonight, you can." He smiled faintly, then stood and headed back into Simon's room.
BACKDATED: June 11th, 2015
Simon tried not to register as much as possible between River's warmth appearing beside him and the wet ground beneath him suddenly giving way to smooth marble. He had a thought that he must look awful, even with Faiza's healing, since he could still feel the blood sticking to the back of his hair, his neck, his shirt.
He'd never been more grateful for Illyana's teleporting ability than he was at that moment, and that was saying a lot, since he'd thought the same thing when they'd brought Nico in. This time, it was himself and his sister he was grateful for, even if he was a little confused as to what had happened.
He focused on River's presence as Dr. MacTaggart immediately got an arm around him and began to move him toward a private bed in the back. "You're okay?" he asked his sister immediately. The last thing he remembered was being outmanned and outmaneuvered.
"I'm -" River got distracted by Moira's thoughts, and the flutter of fear that echoed her own panic, but he was alive, breathing, and he would be. She moved on the other side of him, helped him along. "...fine," she finished, glancing at him before they lowered him onto a bed.
Faiza followed, since it wasn't like Simon had another side for her to take. "I'll get something for Simon to change in to." It wouldn't be as good as his own clothes, but it would get the bloody clothes off of him for the moment. They could worry about better clothing after he was settled down for a bit.
Illyana watched Simon and River for a moment, her eyes clouded, then stepped back as far as she could in the confined space and disappeared. There wasn't anything she could do here, anyway. Maybe Phil would be off the phone by now.
Simon shook his head, then stopped, because he still had a healthy case of vertigo. Instead, he stared into River's eyes, ignoring the IV line Moira was setting up and the questions she was asking. "What happened? Did they hurt you?" He frowned and looked at Faiza. "How did you know where we were?"
River took a step back, watching Simon, then said, quietly, "They were going to keep hurting you."
Nodding toward River, Faiza picked up some scrubs that she thought were likely Simon's size. "River got ahold of Betsy Braddock and Betsy acted as relay to the headmasters. From there, it was a matter of getting Illyana to gather up the forces and get there to help." She placed the clean clothing on the bed. "I can step outside and go make some tea, if you want."
Simon frowned at River. There was something he was missing, but he dragged the scrubs closer on his lap, nodding to Faiza.
Jean-Paul was in the entryway in the next moment, bringing a rush of displaced air with him. He was far paler than usual, a sure sign of an adrenaline hit, and as soon as he had the layout of the room, he was at Simon's side. He started to reach for his hand, but habit overrode instinct...that and the blood still matting Simon's hair and staining his clothes.
"What the hell...?"
With Simon in the infirmary, it was really only a matter of time until Jean-Paul arrived. Faiza turned back, putting the tea off for the moment. "He's okay. Though he could probably use a hand getting changed."
River agreed, and took hold of Faiza's elbow to walk her out of the room. Jean-Paul and Simon could use the time alone, and if Simon kept looking at her with his unvoiced questions she felt as if she might crumble. "Thank you," she said quietly, once they were outside in the hallway. So much white, it made her skin crawl.
Simon stared after his sister for a moment, worry tightening his throat. He knew it wasn't helpful, though, so tried to turn his attention to Jean-Paul. His head was splitting, and he felt faint, the blood rushing in his ears, but he managed to meet his boyfriend's gaze. "We were attacked. I - I was attacked," he clarified. It hadn't been anyone from the Facility.
"River was there. I would say 'we' is right." She would have felt everything. To Jean-Paul's mind, there was little difference. His hands kept trying to shake, and he finally headed to the wash station. He wet one of the clean-up towels and headed back over to Simon. "Keep talking," he murmured. "I'll get this blood off of you before you change."
Simon was shaking too, nausea curdling his stomach. "I don't...I don't know what happened. Why isn't she hurt? How did they get there in time? It happened so fast. I wasn't - I wasn't fast enough."
"River took them out," Jean-Paul murmured, his voice just above a whisper. "I don't know how, but they were down when Betsy and the others arrived." He set the washcloth aside and wrapped his arms around Simon, pulling him up against his warmth. "It's all right." His accent was nearly thick enough to swallow the words. "You're both all right. Faiza put you back together."
Simon didn't like the phrasing 'back together', which implied he hadn't been together in the first place, but he found it hard to think too hard about it in the state he was in. Reaching up, he started stripping the buttons of his shirt open. "She's never going to feel safe in public again."
"Desole," Jean-Paul murmured, picking up the towel and beginning to clean the worst of the blood from the back of Simon's neck. He wanted to go charging down the halls. He wanted to keep moving until he found who had done this and he wanted to beat them until their blood ran down the street like spilled wine. But he needed to be here for Simon, even if he dare not touch him yet. "But please try not to worry about that for now."
"Make sure she's okay?" Simon reached up, stopping Jean-Paul's hand from the cleaning. No, he didn't want blood in his hair and down his back, but he also knew that they could manage something like that later. He tightened his hand on Jean-Paul's squeezing, letting his boyfriend know that he was...for the most part, whole.
"She's with Faiza, who is a lot calmer than I am right now." It wasn't a protest, not exactly. More reassurance. He squeezed Simon's hand in return, then withdrew. "I'll go. I'll go talk to her for you, and be right back. Don't worry about anything, all right?"
Oh, but he didn't want to. He needed to be at Simon's side, like he should have been earlier.
He forced something like a reassuring smile and slipped out into the hall with the girls.
"Hey, soeurette," he murmured, looking up at River. "He made me stop fussing and come check on you. So his brains can't be rattled too badly, right?"
River was sitting on the floor, with her back to the wall across from Simon's room. Her hands were curled up on her bent knees, and she didn't look up at Jean-Paul. "Little rattled. Slow and sluggish, for him."
"Which is to be expected, but there's nothing physical lingering, so that will go away with rest and a chance to replace the blood he lost." Faiza came over and crouched, offering River a cup of tea. "Nothing that time won't heal."
Jean-Paul gave Faiza a grateful look and slid down to the floor beside River. "See? And she would be the one to know. How about you? How are you doing?"
River shook her head at the cup of tea, rather than at Faiza's words; she knew the truth behind them, even if she couldn't feel the future. "You don't want to be here," River said quietly, her hands still on her bloodied knees. Simon's blood. It was all over her. "You should go back."
Faiza shifted her hands, offering it to Jean-Paul, instead. "For Simon. He needs the liquids and the warmth can't hurt." Because he'd be feeling cold, certainly, having lost so much blood.
Jean-Paul murmured his thanks and cupped his hands around the mug, but didn't try to rise yet. "I'm worried about him," he agreed. "But that doesn't mean I don't care about you."
"Tell him I'll be fine," River said, looking up at Jean-Paul from behind her hair. "He'll be fine, I'll be fine."
Faiza looked to Jean-Paul before turning back to River. "We have some showers down here if you want to wash off. I can get you some scrubs like Simon's got, or send somebody to get you clothes from your room?"
Jean-Paul hesitated, unsure if he'd been dismissed back to his post. Finally, he leaned in and pressed a kiss to her hair, as careful about skin-to-skin touch with the empath as he'd been with her brother. They were a stubborn family all around, Tams and Beaubiers.
"All right. I'll be back soon. Promise."
Part of River wanted to reach out and curl up against him, but she refrained. Remaining focused on Simon mattered more, and he should do that, too. Faiza's expectancy itched at her, her offer all but forgotten, and she looked over at her, picking it up from her all over again. "It'll still be there, even after it's gone."
"You're not going to forget it was there, no," Faiza agreed. At least, she thought that's what the other girl meant. "But it will give you some distance from what happened. Like Jean-Paul is helping Simon get some distance from what happened, too."
"Check in with me later?" Jean-Paul gave her shoulder a careful squeeze. "If you want to stay with us tonight, you can." He smiled faintly, then stood and headed back into Simon's room.
