This is my first fan fic so be gentle. Rating based upon future chapters.
DISCLAIMER:: I do not own Nightcrawler, the X-Men, or make any claim to. This Fic is simply to help me improve my writing skills, and I seek no profit other than having a good time. Morgan, however, is my character, and I WILL lay claim to her.
Please review! I hope you enjoy this as much as I have enjoyed writing it.
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It was the end of August and abysmally hot. Even at night the air was heavy, thick, like walking through a deep fryer. It was well past midnight, around three o'clock in the morning, and the world was dead quiet. I could hear a few cars going by on the main road not far from my little apartment, but it was a distant sound. A white noise that brought just a little bit of comfort.
My air conditioning had gone out, and I'd called Maintenance about it three days ago. They had yet to fix it. Inside it was like an oven, and no amount of fans could circulate the dead stuffy. It was far too hot to sleep, so I sat on the front deck of my apartment with a can of ice cold coke from the fridge on the table next to me. It was beaded with moisture, and I took those cold droplets and ran them across my forehead in a futile attempt to cool down.
There was a pack of cigarettes next to the coke, and I took one from the pack. For a long moment, I just held it in my hand, between my index and middle finger. Then, I picked up the zippo and ex boyfriend gave me and lit it. It was never too hot to smoke. I inhaled deeply, and watched the bluish gray smoke curl up into the night.
My building was on a cul de sac, though the parking lot was large and square, not round as you would expect. There were no buildings across from mine, nor on the end. Instead, the buildings lined the road leading into my little square like soldiers. The parking lot was nearly empty, and from what I could see of the other buildings, all the lights were out. There was a stray cat nosing around one of the green dumpsters in the lot. Abruptly, it crouched, staring off down the road before scampering into the bushes that framed the dumpsters.
I heard a vehicle approaching, and leaned back into the shadows more, concealing the cherry red glow of my lit cigarette with my hand. A large black cargo van pulled into the lot. It was shiny-new, and had no license plates. Intrigued, I watched intently as it turned around, and then backed up to one of the dumpster. Odd, that someone would be dumping off garbage this late at night.
A large man in a brown trench coat exited the driver's side. He was wearing a baseball cap, and had it pulled down low over his face. He left the door open, the engine running, and went to the back of the van. With a relative amount of silence, he maneuvered one of the plastic lids on the dumpster open, and then turned back to the van.
A smaller man had joined him, dressed in a pair of jeans and a dark T- shirt. He was the one to open the back doors of the van, and together they unloaded their cargo. It looked like a fairly long bundle of fabric. They tossed it into the dumpster, and I could hear garbage crunching under the weight of it. Then, the small man closed the cargo doors, and they both got into the van and drove away.
I waited for about ten minutes before my curiosity got the better of me. There was a flashlight in my kitchen drawer, and I retrieved it. Then, I went back outside and made sure the van was gone before padding barefoot out into the lot and to the dumpster.
One thing I'll say about my complex, they really like to make sure you have enough room for your trash. The dumpster was large, nearly taller than me. It had two large black plastic lids on top, and the sides had sliding doors. I couldn't see in through the top, so I decided to go in through the side. I squeezed in between the bushes, and pulled the door back. It moved easily which surprised me. I had expected it to be difficult, but it didn't so much as squeak as I opened it.
I fumbled with the flashlight for a moment, smacking it hard to get the light to come on when the switch didn't work. It sputtered for a moment before shining a beam of light. I peered inside the dumpster, and encountered a pair of bright green eyes. I gasped and jerked back, heart pounding.
The cat hissed at me, then leapt from where it had been sitting on the fabric bundle up through the still open top before hissing again and dashing off into the night. I took a few deep breaths to help calm my nerves before shining the light back into the bin.
Black and white plastic bags, glass bottles, and old pizza boxes littered the inside of the dumpster. It stank to high heaven, and the walls were covered with all sorts of things I'd rather not think about. The bundle of fabric lay lengthwise, one end of it laying heavily against the wall. It appeared to bed sheets, white with little flowers all over them, and a strange, dark red stain that overlaid the flowers.
The bundle shifted, and groaned.
I bit off a scream as I jumped back, startled, tangling myself in the bushes and dropping the flashlight, which of course rolled under the dumpster. I realized with horror that the red pattern on the sheets was blood, that there was a person wrapped up in them.
Now logically, I knew I should have called the police. But logic was not in control at that moment. Instinct was. I left the flashlight where it was, and leaned into the dumpster. I grasped the sheets and pulled, edging him a bit toward the entrance. I thought I could tell which way was up and which was down. It was his head that was against the wall. I was already sweating, and the effort to get him out soon had me panting. He'd stopped moving, in fact hadn't made a sound. I could feel the ragged rythym of his chest rising and falling. He was still alive.
I had the lower half of him out, from the way his waist was bending, he had to be laying on his back. I was working on getting the rest of him out when the sheets slipped open, and a part of him popped out at me.
I stared at the hand for a minute in surprise. It was not a normal, human hand. The leather glove that covered it had to be a custom job, for it had two rather thick fingers, and an equally large thumb. The first thing that occurred to me, was that there was no way I could take this person to the hospital.
There was also no way I could call the cops. They take one look at him, and leave him to die. That left only one choice. While it wasn't ideal, it was going to have to do. I knew someone, a mutant, who might be able to help this one back to health. The three of us shared something in common. We were all mutants.
I wrestled him mostly out of the bin, then pulled him over my shoulder in a fireman's carry. He was heavy, dense with muscles, and I was willing to bet he was taller than me too. I staggered across the parking lot, praying hard that there were no early risers about. The stairs were an absolute nightmare, my thighs burning as I traversed them.
I dropped more than lowered him onto my living room floor, gasping for breath, every muscle in my body burning from exertion. My shoulder and arms were covered with something sticky, and I was not surprised to see I had his blood all over me. I crawled over to the phone, and took a moment to catch my breath before hitting the speed dial.
"'Lo?" a sleepy male voice answered.
"Ryan." I gasped. "How fast can you get over here?"
It must have been my tone, because he was sounding instantly alert. "What's going on? Are you hurt?"
"No, but someone else is, badly. He's not the hospital type." I looked at the prone mutant. "He may be dying, Ryan."
"Give me five minutes. I'll be right over." There was a click on the other end of the phone. I hung up the receiver, then went to my linen closet to fetch towels. I don't know why, but I thought they were something we could use. Then I went into the kitchen and put a pot of water on the stove to boil, before grabbing a pair of scissors and heading out into the living room.
I was busy cutting the sheets away from the mutants body when Ryan came in. He was panting, and still wearing only his pajama bottoms, though I was willing to bet he'd been naked when I called. With wide eyes, he stared at the mutant on the floor.
"You weren't kidding." He panted, and closed the door, locking it behind him.
"And you ran here." I said. He lived in the same complex in a different building. "Barefoot."
As I spoke he came over to the mutant, and knelt next to him. "He's in bad shape," he said softly. Then, he place his right hand, palm down, on the mutants forehead and closed his eyes. "Broken ribs." He said softly. "Concussion. Numerous lacerations and contusions." Ryan's gift was the human body. Sounds funny, but he could lay his hand on a person, and find whatever was broken. Then fix it. Diseases were different. But if it was broken, punctured, perferated, skinned, torn, bruised or any other damage type thing, it wouldn't last long.
"Where's all this blood coming from?" I asked.
He frowned. "His back, I think. It's sort of muddled. Let's turn him over." His eyes opened, and he removed his hand from the mutant's forehead. Carefully, we rolled him over to see where the blood loss was coming from.
It took me a minute to realize what I was looking at. At first, I thought that he was wearing a weird, textured jacket. But then I noticed that the jacket was oozing all sorts of things; red, yellow, and clear fuilds. It wasn't cloth, but flesh I was looking at.
His back looked like ground meat. I could see bits of white shining down the center, that I knew instantly was his spine. It was wet, slick looking. The smell of it hit my nostrils, and I gagged. It was grotesque, and I felt my stomach heave. I swallowed hard, lest I lose what little was in my stomach. I shifted my eyes lower down his body, and was surprised to see that he had a tail. It was long, blue, and had a spaded end. I focused on that oddity instead in an effort to get my stomach to calm down.
"My god, where did you find him?" he asked me softly.
"He was dumped." I said.
Ryan shook his head. "I can't heal this. Not by myself. There's too much here. I need Ryanne here to draw off of." He said. The only problem was that his twin sister was in Las Vegas, for a medical conference.
"Why?" I asked.
"Because healing this by myself might kill me." Ryan said. "He's hurt bad, Morgan. I'd drain myself down to the last bit, I'd exhaust myself completely healing him. It's too much." That was the bard part of Ryan's gift. The energy needed usually drained him, unless he had his sister nearby. She was sort of a living battery, he could tap into her and draw as much as he needed, and it had no affect whatsoever on either of them. Well, other than Ryan showing the injuries for a short time. It was like he took them into himself, and then his body healed them.
"Can't you just heal him a bit at a time?" I asked.
Ryan shook his head. "It doesn't work that way. Once I start, I'm committed. I have to finish. I can't stop myself."
"Well, what if you had someone else to tap into besides Ryanne?" I was not going to let this guy die on my living room floor.
He paused. "I don't know. I've never done it before." He bit his lip thoughtfully. "I don't know why I couldn't though. When Anne and I do it, I'm not touching her gift. Just her."
"Then use me." I said, without hesitation.
"Morry-"
"I'm serious. I'm not going to let him die, Ry. Either you tap me, or I call the EMT's. Either way, he's not dying tonight."
Ryan held his hand out to me. "Give me your hand."
I slipped my hand into his, and had a sudden memory of him holding my hand like this once before, only that time we were both sixteen, and he was coaxing me into bed with him. I shook the memory off, now was not the time to reminisce about how I'd lost my virginity. His hand felt the same as it had then, hot, sweaty, and shaking slightly.
Once more his eyes slid closed, and I felt my skin prickle up. I felt warm, buzzed, I wanted to get up and move around. I shifted a bit.
"Be still." He said. "I'm trying-ah." He said. I felt the oddest sensation, like something internally had clicked. Gently, he put his hand on an uninjured spot on the mutant's shoulder.
There was nothing but pain.
Pain, as if someone would wrench my arms out of the sockets. My chest burned. I gasped for air, and it felt like knives digging into my lungs. My back was the worst. It felt like someone had poured acid down my back. I could feel the skin burning away, feel little bits of flesh sizzle apart and slide off of my body. I couldn't breath, I felt like was drowning, I was dying, like my heart would explode.
Just as soon as it began it was over. I was sprawled on the carpet, gasping, body twitching. My heart was hammering in my chest, and I felt weak, as if I'd just run a marathon. Someone was muttering "oh god, oh god, oh god," and I realized it was me. I snapped my mouth shut, then turned my head, trying to sit up. My body wouldn't respond right, so I ended up flopping onto my side.
Ryan was laying on the other side of the mutant, and there were deep bruises covering his face. His chest was rising and falling shallowly. As I watched, the bruises began to fade away, and his breathing to slow. "Ryan.."
"Wow." He said. I breathed an inward sigh of relief. For a moment, I thought he might be worse off than I was. He sat up, grinning, full of more energy than I thought he should have. His eyes came to me, and widened a bit. Immediately he was at my side, helping me to sit up, getting me off the floor. "Move around," he said. "Shake things out. Don't just sit there." He half carried me to the sofa.
Ensconced in the couch, I wiggled my fingers and toes, my legs, my arms, and sure enough the more I moved the better I felt. "I think," he said, "that I got into your Power. I should be bone tired by now, but I'm not."
I stared at him. "How?" I asked. My Power, my Gift, was illusion. It had nothing at all to do with healing, or anything of the sort. I could cover anything with an illusion, or conjure them out of thin air. I knew it wasn't manipulating the mind, because if you were to walk through my illusion, you'd carry little bits of it with you, like wisps of paint that stick to your clothing. I could lay them down so close to flesh, that the bits don't come off at all.
That's how I managed to appear so human looking, as a matter of fact.
"I don't know." Ryan said, bringing me back into focus. "But I did. Look at our patient."
I glanced at the mutant laying on my floor, and was surprised to see that his back was not only healed, there wasn't so much as a scar. It too was covered in a fine blue fur.
I took the time to really look at him. His hair was bluish black and curly, his ears pointed. The tail was long, a bit longer than his legs, and laid on the floor limply. His feet were strange, with two long toes, and a protruding heal, and instead of five fingers, he had two very fat ones, with an equally large opposable thumb. I was willing to bet from face, back and tail that every inch of him was covered in that fine blue fur. He was whole and healed, sleeping now from the energy it took to heal.
I was burning with curiosity. Who was he? What happened? And why?
I had to wait till he woke for the answers.
DISCLAIMER:: I do not own Nightcrawler, the X-Men, or make any claim to. This Fic is simply to help me improve my writing skills, and I seek no profit other than having a good time. Morgan, however, is my character, and I WILL lay claim to her.
Please review! I hope you enjoy this as much as I have enjoyed writing it.
======================================================================
It was the end of August and abysmally hot. Even at night the air was heavy, thick, like walking through a deep fryer. It was well past midnight, around three o'clock in the morning, and the world was dead quiet. I could hear a few cars going by on the main road not far from my little apartment, but it was a distant sound. A white noise that brought just a little bit of comfort.
My air conditioning had gone out, and I'd called Maintenance about it three days ago. They had yet to fix it. Inside it was like an oven, and no amount of fans could circulate the dead stuffy. It was far too hot to sleep, so I sat on the front deck of my apartment with a can of ice cold coke from the fridge on the table next to me. It was beaded with moisture, and I took those cold droplets and ran them across my forehead in a futile attempt to cool down.
There was a pack of cigarettes next to the coke, and I took one from the pack. For a long moment, I just held it in my hand, between my index and middle finger. Then, I picked up the zippo and ex boyfriend gave me and lit it. It was never too hot to smoke. I inhaled deeply, and watched the bluish gray smoke curl up into the night.
My building was on a cul de sac, though the parking lot was large and square, not round as you would expect. There were no buildings across from mine, nor on the end. Instead, the buildings lined the road leading into my little square like soldiers. The parking lot was nearly empty, and from what I could see of the other buildings, all the lights were out. There was a stray cat nosing around one of the green dumpsters in the lot. Abruptly, it crouched, staring off down the road before scampering into the bushes that framed the dumpsters.
I heard a vehicle approaching, and leaned back into the shadows more, concealing the cherry red glow of my lit cigarette with my hand. A large black cargo van pulled into the lot. It was shiny-new, and had no license plates. Intrigued, I watched intently as it turned around, and then backed up to one of the dumpster. Odd, that someone would be dumping off garbage this late at night.
A large man in a brown trench coat exited the driver's side. He was wearing a baseball cap, and had it pulled down low over his face. He left the door open, the engine running, and went to the back of the van. With a relative amount of silence, he maneuvered one of the plastic lids on the dumpster open, and then turned back to the van.
A smaller man had joined him, dressed in a pair of jeans and a dark T- shirt. He was the one to open the back doors of the van, and together they unloaded their cargo. It looked like a fairly long bundle of fabric. They tossed it into the dumpster, and I could hear garbage crunching under the weight of it. Then, the small man closed the cargo doors, and they both got into the van and drove away.
I waited for about ten minutes before my curiosity got the better of me. There was a flashlight in my kitchen drawer, and I retrieved it. Then, I went back outside and made sure the van was gone before padding barefoot out into the lot and to the dumpster.
One thing I'll say about my complex, they really like to make sure you have enough room for your trash. The dumpster was large, nearly taller than me. It had two large black plastic lids on top, and the sides had sliding doors. I couldn't see in through the top, so I decided to go in through the side. I squeezed in between the bushes, and pulled the door back. It moved easily which surprised me. I had expected it to be difficult, but it didn't so much as squeak as I opened it.
I fumbled with the flashlight for a moment, smacking it hard to get the light to come on when the switch didn't work. It sputtered for a moment before shining a beam of light. I peered inside the dumpster, and encountered a pair of bright green eyes. I gasped and jerked back, heart pounding.
The cat hissed at me, then leapt from where it had been sitting on the fabric bundle up through the still open top before hissing again and dashing off into the night. I took a few deep breaths to help calm my nerves before shining the light back into the bin.
Black and white plastic bags, glass bottles, and old pizza boxes littered the inside of the dumpster. It stank to high heaven, and the walls were covered with all sorts of things I'd rather not think about. The bundle of fabric lay lengthwise, one end of it laying heavily against the wall. It appeared to bed sheets, white with little flowers all over them, and a strange, dark red stain that overlaid the flowers.
The bundle shifted, and groaned.
I bit off a scream as I jumped back, startled, tangling myself in the bushes and dropping the flashlight, which of course rolled under the dumpster. I realized with horror that the red pattern on the sheets was blood, that there was a person wrapped up in them.
Now logically, I knew I should have called the police. But logic was not in control at that moment. Instinct was. I left the flashlight where it was, and leaned into the dumpster. I grasped the sheets and pulled, edging him a bit toward the entrance. I thought I could tell which way was up and which was down. It was his head that was against the wall. I was already sweating, and the effort to get him out soon had me panting. He'd stopped moving, in fact hadn't made a sound. I could feel the ragged rythym of his chest rising and falling. He was still alive.
I had the lower half of him out, from the way his waist was bending, he had to be laying on his back. I was working on getting the rest of him out when the sheets slipped open, and a part of him popped out at me.
I stared at the hand for a minute in surprise. It was not a normal, human hand. The leather glove that covered it had to be a custom job, for it had two rather thick fingers, and an equally large thumb. The first thing that occurred to me, was that there was no way I could take this person to the hospital.
There was also no way I could call the cops. They take one look at him, and leave him to die. That left only one choice. While it wasn't ideal, it was going to have to do. I knew someone, a mutant, who might be able to help this one back to health. The three of us shared something in common. We were all mutants.
I wrestled him mostly out of the bin, then pulled him over my shoulder in a fireman's carry. He was heavy, dense with muscles, and I was willing to bet he was taller than me too. I staggered across the parking lot, praying hard that there were no early risers about. The stairs were an absolute nightmare, my thighs burning as I traversed them.
I dropped more than lowered him onto my living room floor, gasping for breath, every muscle in my body burning from exertion. My shoulder and arms were covered with something sticky, and I was not surprised to see I had his blood all over me. I crawled over to the phone, and took a moment to catch my breath before hitting the speed dial.
"'Lo?" a sleepy male voice answered.
"Ryan." I gasped. "How fast can you get over here?"
It must have been my tone, because he was sounding instantly alert. "What's going on? Are you hurt?"
"No, but someone else is, badly. He's not the hospital type." I looked at the prone mutant. "He may be dying, Ryan."
"Give me five minutes. I'll be right over." There was a click on the other end of the phone. I hung up the receiver, then went to my linen closet to fetch towels. I don't know why, but I thought they were something we could use. Then I went into the kitchen and put a pot of water on the stove to boil, before grabbing a pair of scissors and heading out into the living room.
I was busy cutting the sheets away from the mutants body when Ryan came in. He was panting, and still wearing only his pajama bottoms, though I was willing to bet he'd been naked when I called. With wide eyes, he stared at the mutant on the floor.
"You weren't kidding." He panted, and closed the door, locking it behind him.
"And you ran here." I said. He lived in the same complex in a different building. "Barefoot."
As I spoke he came over to the mutant, and knelt next to him. "He's in bad shape," he said softly. Then, he place his right hand, palm down, on the mutants forehead and closed his eyes. "Broken ribs." He said softly. "Concussion. Numerous lacerations and contusions." Ryan's gift was the human body. Sounds funny, but he could lay his hand on a person, and find whatever was broken. Then fix it. Diseases were different. But if it was broken, punctured, perferated, skinned, torn, bruised or any other damage type thing, it wouldn't last long.
"Where's all this blood coming from?" I asked.
He frowned. "His back, I think. It's sort of muddled. Let's turn him over." His eyes opened, and he removed his hand from the mutant's forehead. Carefully, we rolled him over to see where the blood loss was coming from.
It took me a minute to realize what I was looking at. At first, I thought that he was wearing a weird, textured jacket. But then I noticed that the jacket was oozing all sorts of things; red, yellow, and clear fuilds. It wasn't cloth, but flesh I was looking at.
His back looked like ground meat. I could see bits of white shining down the center, that I knew instantly was his spine. It was wet, slick looking. The smell of it hit my nostrils, and I gagged. It was grotesque, and I felt my stomach heave. I swallowed hard, lest I lose what little was in my stomach. I shifted my eyes lower down his body, and was surprised to see that he had a tail. It was long, blue, and had a spaded end. I focused on that oddity instead in an effort to get my stomach to calm down.
"My god, where did you find him?" he asked me softly.
"He was dumped." I said.
Ryan shook his head. "I can't heal this. Not by myself. There's too much here. I need Ryanne here to draw off of." He said. The only problem was that his twin sister was in Las Vegas, for a medical conference.
"Why?" I asked.
"Because healing this by myself might kill me." Ryan said. "He's hurt bad, Morgan. I'd drain myself down to the last bit, I'd exhaust myself completely healing him. It's too much." That was the bard part of Ryan's gift. The energy needed usually drained him, unless he had his sister nearby. She was sort of a living battery, he could tap into her and draw as much as he needed, and it had no affect whatsoever on either of them. Well, other than Ryan showing the injuries for a short time. It was like he took them into himself, and then his body healed them.
"Can't you just heal him a bit at a time?" I asked.
Ryan shook his head. "It doesn't work that way. Once I start, I'm committed. I have to finish. I can't stop myself."
"Well, what if you had someone else to tap into besides Ryanne?" I was not going to let this guy die on my living room floor.
He paused. "I don't know. I've never done it before." He bit his lip thoughtfully. "I don't know why I couldn't though. When Anne and I do it, I'm not touching her gift. Just her."
"Then use me." I said, without hesitation.
"Morry-"
"I'm serious. I'm not going to let him die, Ry. Either you tap me, or I call the EMT's. Either way, he's not dying tonight."
Ryan held his hand out to me. "Give me your hand."
I slipped my hand into his, and had a sudden memory of him holding my hand like this once before, only that time we were both sixteen, and he was coaxing me into bed with him. I shook the memory off, now was not the time to reminisce about how I'd lost my virginity. His hand felt the same as it had then, hot, sweaty, and shaking slightly.
Once more his eyes slid closed, and I felt my skin prickle up. I felt warm, buzzed, I wanted to get up and move around. I shifted a bit.
"Be still." He said. "I'm trying-ah." He said. I felt the oddest sensation, like something internally had clicked. Gently, he put his hand on an uninjured spot on the mutant's shoulder.
There was nothing but pain.
Pain, as if someone would wrench my arms out of the sockets. My chest burned. I gasped for air, and it felt like knives digging into my lungs. My back was the worst. It felt like someone had poured acid down my back. I could feel the skin burning away, feel little bits of flesh sizzle apart and slide off of my body. I couldn't breath, I felt like was drowning, I was dying, like my heart would explode.
Just as soon as it began it was over. I was sprawled on the carpet, gasping, body twitching. My heart was hammering in my chest, and I felt weak, as if I'd just run a marathon. Someone was muttering "oh god, oh god, oh god," and I realized it was me. I snapped my mouth shut, then turned my head, trying to sit up. My body wouldn't respond right, so I ended up flopping onto my side.
Ryan was laying on the other side of the mutant, and there were deep bruises covering his face. His chest was rising and falling shallowly. As I watched, the bruises began to fade away, and his breathing to slow. "Ryan.."
"Wow." He said. I breathed an inward sigh of relief. For a moment, I thought he might be worse off than I was. He sat up, grinning, full of more energy than I thought he should have. His eyes came to me, and widened a bit. Immediately he was at my side, helping me to sit up, getting me off the floor. "Move around," he said. "Shake things out. Don't just sit there." He half carried me to the sofa.
Ensconced in the couch, I wiggled my fingers and toes, my legs, my arms, and sure enough the more I moved the better I felt. "I think," he said, "that I got into your Power. I should be bone tired by now, but I'm not."
I stared at him. "How?" I asked. My Power, my Gift, was illusion. It had nothing at all to do with healing, or anything of the sort. I could cover anything with an illusion, or conjure them out of thin air. I knew it wasn't manipulating the mind, because if you were to walk through my illusion, you'd carry little bits of it with you, like wisps of paint that stick to your clothing. I could lay them down so close to flesh, that the bits don't come off at all.
That's how I managed to appear so human looking, as a matter of fact.
"I don't know." Ryan said, bringing me back into focus. "But I did. Look at our patient."
I glanced at the mutant laying on my floor, and was surprised to see that his back was not only healed, there wasn't so much as a scar. It too was covered in a fine blue fur.
I took the time to really look at him. His hair was bluish black and curly, his ears pointed. The tail was long, a bit longer than his legs, and laid on the floor limply. His feet were strange, with two long toes, and a protruding heal, and instead of five fingers, he had two very fat ones, with an equally large opposable thumb. I was willing to bet from face, back and tail that every inch of him was covered in that fine blue fur. He was whole and healed, sleeping now from the energy it took to heal.
I was burning with curiosity. Who was he? What happened? And why?
I had to wait till he woke for the answers.