Chapter III: the Infirmary
-----------------------------------------------
I squeezed my eye shut again, too much light, darnit! I must have looked like a chicken-wuss because I refused to keep my eye open. I was still in sooo much pain. I gritted my teeth when the slowly pulled the needle out again. I may gonna be a doctor, but I STILL didn't like needles, I had thought to myself. Then it hit me: why wasn't my mom there? I mean, the way my mom was, she would have fought any person she had to to be with me then. So why wasn't she there with me?
I tried to signal that I had something to say, but I was so drugged I couldn't even get my arm off the...thing I was on. Can't call them tables, but ya can't call them beds either; they're not soft enough! I started to feel really woozy and dizzy. I squeezed my eye shut even tighter, but it didn't help the dizziness. "The painkiller may make you drowzy," the man had begun, but I'd already drifted off to sleep....
------------------------------------------------------
When I woke up again, I was able to open my eye now, because the lights had been dimmed. I moaned and willed my arms to move, but I found that they'd been strapped down to the....thingy. Whoopee. I glanced around slowly: the room was metal, and the only other person there was someone lying in the bed. It looked like an infirmary; granted, a high-tech one, but not quite...white enough or cramped enough to be a hospital.
"Oh good, you're awake now," chirped a cheerful voice.
A dark-haired woman in a white nurse's dress appeared from out of nowhere. She set a book -a romance novel- at the foot of my bed as she approached me. "How are you feeling?"
.....
"Oh, I'm sorry, I forgot about the painkiller: it's so strong you can't talk." I think I'm aware of that, lady, I had thought. She gave me an apologetic smile and patted my hand gently. "I'm Annie Ghazikhanian, I'm the nurse here," she informed me. She sat on the edge of my bed-table and started checking me over as she talked. "You're at the Xavier Institute for Gifted Youngsters; I know, it's a long name, huh? You collapsed on the sidewalk." I gathered that. "Professor Xavier sent some people out to get you and bring you here."
Wait, here? Were was here? "Where....r'we," I managed to mumble. I was still too drugged to talk intelligently, but I got my point across. "We're in New York, Madison."
Hell no.
I looked around, starting to panick. "M...mom..."
She patted my hand re-assuredly. "Your mother couldn't come, sweetheart. Don't worry; I'm here for you." I nodded slowly, not wanting the pain to shoot up my back. I didn't want to sound baby-ish, but I wanted my mommy. "Am I....gon' be...okee," I choked out, my voice hoarse from being so dry. She gave me a warm smile. "You should be fine," said Annie. She reached forward smoothed my hair back. "You need to rest for right now, and we'll see how you feel tomorrow, ok?"
I'd been lying in that bed for awhile, I wanted to get up! I simply nodded again, and Annie dimmed the light above my head even more. "I'll be right here if you need anything, ok," she said as she retreived her book and settled into a chair; a chair between mine, and the other guy in the infirmary. She began to talk softly; I assumed she was reading the book to him. I listened to her words, not being able to make them out with my head being so fuzzy, but they still helped me relax, and I fell asleep.
----------------------------------------
I woke up the next morning around 9:23 (I could swivel my neck just enough to see the clock) and tried to sit up. Oh yes, I'm strapped to the table, I remembered. Table, bed, whatever. Annie wasn't there, but the man in the bed still was. He didn't look like he'd moved any. He must be real sick then. I angled my neck up at the light above my head, which looked like one of those blowdryer things they pull over your head at the hairdresser. Someone had shut it off, but that wasn't the only thing I had noticed. Something white, and fluffy looking, but my glasses weren't on, and my mind was still a lil foggy from the painkillers.
My throat felt a little better, but still very dry. I had an IV in my arm, and I was wearing one of those paper-thin white hospital gowns. I noticed that I still had my undergarments on; thanks to whoever allowed me to save a SMALL shred of my dignity.
"Good morning, my dear; how are you feeling," asked a voice. I glanced around til a spotted a furry-looking guy...a very blue guy. Whoohoo, dontcha love hallucinations, I had thought to myself. "Okay...m'arms," I mumbled, trying to free them. He reached for the straps, but paused and looked up at me, pushing his glasses up further on his nose. "You must promise not to move them to much, or your stitches will come open," he said, a very serious look on his face. Well, at leats as serious as a blue-furred guy can get.
I nodded numbly, and he unstrapped my arms. "Thank you," I said. "Oh dear, forgive me miss, I haven't introduced myself yet," he did a little bow. "I'm-"
"McCoy...the doctor from....the TV," I cut in, not meaning to be rude but being excited in that I had recognized him. He always looked that way, which was nice for me because that meant I wasn't hallucinating. Or crazy.
"Yes," he said, flashing a toothy grin as he reached over my head and fiddled with something. "You're at the Xavier Institute in New York; can you tell e your name?" I figured him as being the man I'd heard talk before; his voice sounded similar, so I knew he knew my name already, and knowing the procedures the doctors go through, I began to recite various facts about my life. "Madison Alexandria Taylor; my nickname is Lulu; I have one older brother, Tom; my parents' names are Johnathan and Maureen Taylor, my mother's maiden name is McKellen-"
"Ah, so you're familiar with medical procedures then, I presume," said the good doctor.
I nodded, mumbling to myself more than to him, "I was...gon' be a doctor...but now...." My voice trailed off. "Now what," he queried, pausing to look at me. I looked up at him, "My eye...it's messed up...isn't it?" I had been pretty sure I was blind in it; I mean, it couldn't have just bled a hundred million buckets of blood and I'd still have sight in it, right? HEY! "Xavier....mutant school?" I talked so smartly, just like mah hickabilly cousin/uncle Jeb.
"Yes, that's right; why?"
"Am I...."
"A mutant," he finished. "Yes," he confirmed. "Yes you are." And with thathe continued fiddling. "Ouch," I said. Wait...ouch? "What...."
"Oh, did not Anne tell you? You have wings now."
Screeeeeeeeeeeeeeeech. "Um....what?"
"I know this may be alot for you to absorb at the moment, but blah blah blah blah." Ok, so he didn't say the last few words, but my mind had went to frolick in the flowers like the pansy that it is. Wings? I had wings? I slowly reached back behind me, and grabbed something soft, and, of course, I HAD to pull it. "OUCH!"
"I would advise you not to do that again," said Doctor McCoy. I looked at the feather in my hand: it was pure white...minus some of the blood that comes from YANKING YOUR OWN FEATHERS OUT! "Wings....wings? Wings," I glanced over my shoulder: there they were. They seemed to be smiling at me, almost mocking me, for some reason. And then it hit me. This would change my life. Forever. I couldn't go home, I couldn't become a doctor, I couldn't...I started to sniffle in spite of myself. I knew it wasn't a death sentence to be a mutant, but at that time it sure felt like it.
Doctor McCoy patted me reassuredly on the shoulder. "Being a mutant isn't as bad as you may think it may be," he said. "I'll let you have a few moments to think," he said, and bounded out of the room before I could protest. Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes. Cael was with me when it happened! I could never...what if someone form school had seen me? All kinda of horrible worst-case scenarios ran through my head, until...
"Gutenmorgen, Verlust," said an accented German voice. I tried to pull myself up after hearing the man, but the pain shooting up my back made me decide against it. "Do not get up," said the German.
That was a good idea.
BAMF!
Another blue-furred man appeared before me in purple, foul-smelling cloud. But he has only 3 fingers on each hand, a forked tail...and pointed teeth. Plus, he was alot thinner than Dr. McCoy.
"Uh...are you related to...Dr. McCoy," I asked dumbly. He chuckled and perched on the end of my bed. "If that vere so, perhaps I vould have scored higher on the IQ test, ja," quipped the German. I gave him a weak smile and shook his hand just as weakly.
"I am Kurt Vagner, how are you feeling this morning, mein freund," he had asked me. "I'm okay," I replied, hoping the tears wouldn't choose now to flow down my cheeks. "It's.....still a shock for me," I admitted to him, knowing that he would know what I meant by 'it'. 'It' need not be spoken.
"That's perfectly normal," he answered me. "It's something you come to terms with....eventually," his yellow eyes had shone with hope when he encouraged me. I liked him immediately, he had a joking air about him. It made me feel better to have someone else with a....physical mutation to not act as if their life were over. Gave me a little hope back then...
"You looked terrible vhen they brought you in, Madison." Did everybody know my name? "You look much better now, you've got colour to your face," he informed me. "I wouldn't know, I can't see my face," I noted jokingly. He paused, as if contemplating something. "You vill soon enough," he said as the door whoooooshed open again, and in came a tall guy with red shades, and a woman with hair that matched them. I didn't like the look on the man's face; he looked like he either had a stick up his butt, or he ate a bug.
The woman chuckled as they approached us, at some invisible funny person, I had assumed then. Mr. Vag -errr, Wagner- bamfed over to them and discussed something with the man as the red-head walked over to me. "How are you feeling thing morning, Madison," she asked me. I cleared my throat and rubbed the sheets with my fingertips. Something about her made me a little...uneasy. "Kinda thirsty," I said.
Before I knew what had happened, a glass of water appeared in front of my face. I blinked. I blinked again. Um, what? "How..."
"Telekinesis. I'm a psy," she said, sitting on the edge of my bed. "I'm Jean. Jean Grey-Summers. The 'guy in the red shades' over there is my husband, Scott. I'm assuming you've already met Kurt?" I nodded, taking the glass weakly in my arms. I felt sooo tired!
Grumble, grumble.
All eyes were on me. Apparently, I was hungry too. I had never been so embarassed in my life right then, well, besides the time that kid threw up on me in 3rd grade. Mrs. Grey-Summers laughed as I sipped the water. "You sound hungry too," she said as she stared off in space for a second, then stood up again. "Hank says it's ok for you to have something to eat. I'll bring something from the cafeteria for you; what would you like," she asked me. It happened too fast for my tiny, drugged brain to comprehend. I didn't know who Hank was, but I was darn hungry! "Something...something edible," I said, I wasn't too picky just then.
She laughed again and left. I finished my water and passed the empty glass to my other hand, so I could rub my eye. It itched something awful, I tell ya. I noticed the men gesture to me every so often as they talked. I shifted in the bed, trying to get comfortable. This caused a lone feather to fall from what I assumed was one of my wings gently, down to my face. This annoyed my muchly. I blew it out of my face, but it decided to land there again. I blew it vehemently until it relented and fell to the floor. I was annoyed enough at everything without having that most annoying thing annoy me.
I grinned and made a happy noise at my victory. Yo, man, I was the shiznit. Word.
Okay, I'll stop now. "Madison," said a voice, a voice who so rudely interupted my inner victory dance. "I looked at the red shades guy. "What?"
"We're going to sit you up now," we being him and Kurt. I didn't have a chance to protest before I felt hands on my sides pulling me up. After about 46574435 pillows were shoved behind my back so I wouldn't fall over, and it took even longer because they had to situate them between my wings. "Ouchies, ouchies, ouchies," I repeated before I was eased back on the pillow. I turned my neck to the side -very, very slowly- to take a good look at my wings: very, very big, white, and feathery. Yeah, they're wings, how much more detailed can ya get? Well, now that I think about it, they were kinda red and swollen...
I reached out and ran my hand down the left wing and frowned. How was I going to drive now? Okay, so that was very shallow to think, but back then I was really excited about learning to drive. Not that that'll help me now, but I digress. I poked the wing repeatedly, expecting it to smack me in the face or something. Then I thought, when can I get outta here? (Yeah, I had the attention span of a gnat back then, so sue me.) "When can I get up? And go home," I asked, rubbing my eye with my free hand. Mr. Wagner gently grabbed my hand to halt my rubbing. "Don't rub, you vill make it worse," he commanded.
"Whenever Hank clears it, you can leave the infirmary," said Mr...Summers was it? Yes, Summers. "What about going home," I asked. "That...I don't know," he said. Oh yeah. That sure made me feel better. "Can I talk to my mom?"
"Hey guys, I brought food," said another voice. Wasn't Mrs. Grey-Summers-whatever supposed to bring my food, I had thought. Not that I shoulda been too picky. I looked up at a sandy-haired guy with ice-coloured shades. Does everybody wear shades around here? "No, no need to thank me, really," he said, setting the tray on the table near my bed. "Uh thanks...where's Mrs. Grey-Summers," I asked.
"Jean hadda go do...somethin," said the dude, giving a sheepish smile and straddling the backward seat. I learned later that she had been called by someone and had asked him to take the food and her apologies to me. Men. I looked at the tray: a bowl of chicken soup, a glass of orange juice and a muffin. Peach orange mango juice, I had thought after sipping it. It was my favorite, but how could...
"Nice wings ya got there kid, not as impressive as Warren's, but," he poked my wing. "Still better than mine." I frowned. "But you don't have any wings," I protested.
"Exactly."
O-kaaaaayy. He was a little oo-oo in the noo-noo. I sipped my juice as Mr. Summers strode out, looking as if he owned all the world. Okay, so he had seemed a little cold at first, but he's not so bad. "Excuse me, frau," said the blue man shortly before poofing away. He poofed back in a flash (ha ha) and gave the blue shades dude a stern look. "Behave yourself, Bobby," he instructed. "Chill out Kurt, she's just a kid." Okay. DON'T LEAVE ME HERE WITH THE SCARY MAN, MR. WAGNER! He simply shook his head and bamfed away again.
Bobby pulled his chair closer to my bed and ran a hand through his hair. "What's your name, kid?"
"Lul...err, Madison."
"Okay Lul-err-Madison, where are ya from?" Smarty butt. I could tell he would be my new annoying lil feather.
"Ohio. And I want to go home," I demanded, pulling the tray onto my lap and taking a bite of my muffin. "Awww, but you just got here," he lamented. "You don't wanna go home yet."
"Yes I do...my mom...MY MOM! I haveta call my mom," I cried. "Your mom's gonna call later to check up on you."
"Why isn't she here," I demanded to know after I'd finished my muffin. Mmm. Blueberry.
"She had to stay home to file a police report."
Police report? "Police report? What police report?"
He had a look of 'uh oh I should not have said that' on his face. He started to bolt, but I reached out and grabbed his arm. "Why, Mr. Bob?"
He raised an eyebrow at that name, but answered with, "Some anti-mutant graffiti was painted all over your house."
"You mean my garage," I cut in.
"No, I mean your house."
-----------------------------------------------
Disclaimer: THE X-MEN DO NOT BELONG TO ME, I DO NOT CLAIM TO OWN THEM, THEY BELONG TO MARVEL. Had to get that in there so Marvel wouldn't sue me. Not like I've got any money anyways. ^^;; All the original characters belong to me (Frostbite, Negativity, Rift, Inferno, etc) and you can't use them unless you ask me first. So there. (AishiyuriiKomojo@neo.rr.com)
-----------------------------------------------
I squeezed my eye shut again, too much light, darnit! I must have looked like a chicken-wuss because I refused to keep my eye open. I was still in sooo much pain. I gritted my teeth when the slowly pulled the needle out again. I may gonna be a doctor, but I STILL didn't like needles, I had thought to myself. Then it hit me: why wasn't my mom there? I mean, the way my mom was, she would have fought any person she had to to be with me then. So why wasn't she there with me?
I tried to signal that I had something to say, but I was so drugged I couldn't even get my arm off the...thing I was on. Can't call them tables, but ya can't call them beds either; they're not soft enough! I started to feel really woozy and dizzy. I squeezed my eye shut even tighter, but it didn't help the dizziness. "The painkiller may make you drowzy," the man had begun, but I'd already drifted off to sleep....
------------------------------------------------------
When I woke up again, I was able to open my eye now, because the lights had been dimmed. I moaned and willed my arms to move, but I found that they'd been strapped down to the....thingy. Whoopee. I glanced around slowly: the room was metal, and the only other person there was someone lying in the bed. It looked like an infirmary; granted, a high-tech one, but not quite...white enough or cramped enough to be a hospital.
"Oh good, you're awake now," chirped a cheerful voice.
A dark-haired woman in a white nurse's dress appeared from out of nowhere. She set a book -a romance novel- at the foot of my bed as she approached me. "How are you feeling?"
.....
"Oh, I'm sorry, I forgot about the painkiller: it's so strong you can't talk." I think I'm aware of that, lady, I had thought. She gave me an apologetic smile and patted my hand gently. "I'm Annie Ghazikhanian, I'm the nurse here," she informed me. She sat on the edge of my bed-table and started checking me over as she talked. "You're at the Xavier Institute for Gifted Youngsters; I know, it's a long name, huh? You collapsed on the sidewalk." I gathered that. "Professor Xavier sent some people out to get you and bring you here."
Wait, here? Were was here? "Where....r'we," I managed to mumble. I was still too drugged to talk intelligently, but I got my point across. "We're in New York, Madison."
Hell no.
I looked around, starting to panick. "M...mom..."
She patted my hand re-assuredly. "Your mother couldn't come, sweetheart. Don't worry; I'm here for you." I nodded slowly, not wanting the pain to shoot up my back. I didn't want to sound baby-ish, but I wanted my mommy. "Am I....gon' be...okee," I choked out, my voice hoarse from being so dry. She gave me a warm smile. "You should be fine," said Annie. She reached forward smoothed my hair back. "You need to rest for right now, and we'll see how you feel tomorrow, ok?"
I'd been lying in that bed for awhile, I wanted to get up! I simply nodded again, and Annie dimmed the light above my head even more. "I'll be right here if you need anything, ok," she said as she retreived her book and settled into a chair; a chair between mine, and the other guy in the infirmary. She began to talk softly; I assumed she was reading the book to him. I listened to her words, not being able to make them out with my head being so fuzzy, but they still helped me relax, and I fell asleep.
----------------------------------------
I woke up the next morning around 9:23 (I could swivel my neck just enough to see the clock) and tried to sit up. Oh yes, I'm strapped to the table, I remembered. Table, bed, whatever. Annie wasn't there, but the man in the bed still was. He didn't look like he'd moved any. He must be real sick then. I angled my neck up at the light above my head, which looked like one of those blowdryer things they pull over your head at the hairdresser. Someone had shut it off, but that wasn't the only thing I had noticed. Something white, and fluffy looking, but my glasses weren't on, and my mind was still a lil foggy from the painkillers.
My throat felt a little better, but still very dry. I had an IV in my arm, and I was wearing one of those paper-thin white hospital gowns. I noticed that I still had my undergarments on; thanks to whoever allowed me to save a SMALL shred of my dignity.
"Good morning, my dear; how are you feeling," asked a voice. I glanced around til a spotted a furry-looking guy...a very blue guy. Whoohoo, dontcha love hallucinations, I had thought to myself. "Okay...m'arms," I mumbled, trying to free them. He reached for the straps, but paused and looked up at me, pushing his glasses up further on his nose. "You must promise not to move them to much, or your stitches will come open," he said, a very serious look on his face. Well, at leats as serious as a blue-furred guy can get.
I nodded numbly, and he unstrapped my arms. "Thank you," I said. "Oh dear, forgive me miss, I haven't introduced myself yet," he did a little bow. "I'm-"
"McCoy...the doctor from....the TV," I cut in, not meaning to be rude but being excited in that I had recognized him. He always looked that way, which was nice for me because that meant I wasn't hallucinating. Or crazy.
"Yes," he said, flashing a toothy grin as he reached over my head and fiddled with something. "You're at the Xavier Institute in New York; can you tell e your name?" I figured him as being the man I'd heard talk before; his voice sounded similar, so I knew he knew my name already, and knowing the procedures the doctors go through, I began to recite various facts about my life. "Madison Alexandria Taylor; my nickname is Lulu; I have one older brother, Tom; my parents' names are Johnathan and Maureen Taylor, my mother's maiden name is McKellen-"
"Ah, so you're familiar with medical procedures then, I presume," said the good doctor.
I nodded, mumbling to myself more than to him, "I was...gon' be a doctor...but now...." My voice trailed off. "Now what," he queried, pausing to look at me. I looked up at him, "My eye...it's messed up...isn't it?" I had been pretty sure I was blind in it; I mean, it couldn't have just bled a hundred million buckets of blood and I'd still have sight in it, right? HEY! "Xavier....mutant school?" I talked so smartly, just like mah hickabilly cousin/uncle Jeb.
"Yes, that's right; why?"
"Am I...."
"A mutant," he finished. "Yes," he confirmed. "Yes you are." And with thathe continued fiddling. "Ouch," I said. Wait...ouch? "What...."
"Oh, did not Anne tell you? You have wings now."
Screeeeeeeeeeeeeeeech. "Um....what?"
"I know this may be alot for you to absorb at the moment, but blah blah blah blah." Ok, so he didn't say the last few words, but my mind had went to frolick in the flowers like the pansy that it is. Wings? I had wings? I slowly reached back behind me, and grabbed something soft, and, of course, I HAD to pull it. "OUCH!"
"I would advise you not to do that again," said Doctor McCoy. I looked at the feather in my hand: it was pure white...minus some of the blood that comes from YANKING YOUR OWN FEATHERS OUT! "Wings....wings? Wings," I glanced over my shoulder: there they were. They seemed to be smiling at me, almost mocking me, for some reason. And then it hit me. This would change my life. Forever. I couldn't go home, I couldn't become a doctor, I couldn't...I started to sniffle in spite of myself. I knew it wasn't a death sentence to be a mutant, but at that time it sure felt like it.
Doctor McCoy patted me reassuredly on the shoulder. "Being a mutant isn't as bad as you may think it may be," he said. "I'll let you have a few moments to think," he said, and bounded out of the room before I could protest. Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes. Cael was with me when it happened! I could never...what if someone form school had seen me? All kinda of horrible worst-case scenarios ran through my head, until...
"Gutenmorgen, Verlust," said an accented German voice. I tried to pull myself up after hearing the man, but the pain shooting up my back made me decide against it. "Do not get up," said the German.
That was a good idea.
BAMF!
Another blue-furred man appeared before me in purple, foul-smelling cloud. But he has only 3 fingers on each hand, a forked tail...and pointed teeth. Plus, he was alot thinner than Dr. McCoy.
"Uh...are you related to...Dr. McCoy," I asked dumbly. He chuckled and perched on the end of my bed. "If that vere so, perhaps I vould have scored higher on the IQ test, ja," quipped the German. I gave him a weak smile and shook his hand just as weakly.
"I am Kurt Vagner, how are you feeling this morning, mein freund," he had asked me. "I'm okay," I replied, hoping the tears wouldn't choose now to flow down my cheeks. "It's.....still a shock for me," I admitted to him, knowing that he would know what I meant by 'it'. 'It' need not be spoken.
"That's perfectly normal," he answered me. "It's something you come to terms with....eventually," his yellow eyes had shone with hope when he encouraged me. I liked him immediately, he had a joking air about him. It made me feel better to have someone else with a....physical mutation to not act as if their life were over. Gave me a little hope back then...
"You looked terrible vhen they brought you in, Madison." Did everybody know my name? "You look much better now, you've got colour to your face," he informed me. "I wouldn't know, I can't see my face," I noted jokingly. He paused, as if contemplating something. "You vill soon enough," he said as the door whoooooshed open again, and in came a tall guy with red shades, and a woman with hair that matched them. I didn't like the look on the man's face; he looked like he either had a stick up his butt, or he ate a bug.
The woman chuckled as they approached us, at some invisible funny person, I had assumed then. Mr. Vag -errr, Wagner- bamfed over to them and discussed something with the man as the red-head walked over to me. "How are you feeling thing morning, Madison," she asked me. I cleared my throat and rubbed the sheets with my fingertips. Something about her made me a little...uneasy. "Kinda thirsty," I said.
Before I knew what had happened, a glass of water appeared in front of my face. I blinked. I blinked again. Um, what? "How..."
"Telekinesis. I'm a psy," she said, sitting on the edge of my bed. "I'm Jean. Jean Grey-Summers. The 'guy in the red shades' over there is my husband, Scott. I'm assuming you've already met Kurt?" I nodded, taking the glass weakly in my arms. I felt sooo tired!
Grumble, grumble.
All eyes were on me. Apparently, I was hungry too. I had never been so embarassed in my life right then, well, besides the time that kid threw up on me in 3rd grade. Mrs. Grey-Summers laughed as I sipped the water. "You sound hungry too," she said as she stared off in space for a second, then stood up again. "Hank says it's ok for you to have something to eat. I'll bring something from the cafeteria for you; what would you like," she asked me. It happened too fast for my tiny, drugged brain to comprehend. I didn't know who Hank was, but I was darn hungry! "Something...something edible," I said, I wasn't too picky just then.
She laughed again and left. I finished my water and passed the empty glass to my other hand, so I could rub my eye. It itched something awful, I tell ya. I noticed the men gesture to me every so often as they talked. I shifted in the bed, trying to get comfortable. This caused a lone feather to fall from what I assumed was one of my wings gently, down to my face. This annoyed my muchly. I blew it out of my face, but it decided to land there again. I blew it vehemently until it relented and fell to the floor. I was annoyed enough at everything without having that most annoying thing annoy me.
I grinned and made a happy noise at my victory. Yo, man, I was the shiznit. Word.
Okay, I'll stop now. "Madison," said a voice, a voice who so rudely interupted my inner victory dance. "I looked at the red shades guy. "What?"
"We're going to sit you up now," we being him and Kurt. I didn't have a chance to protest before I felt hands on my sides pulling me up. After about 46574435 pillows were shoved behind my back so I wouldn't fall over, and it took even longer because they had to situate them between my wings. "Ouchies, ouchies, ouchies," I repeated before I was eased back on the pillow. I turned my neck to the side -very, very slowly- to take a good look at my wings: very, very big, white, and feathery. Yeah, they're wings, how much more detailed can ya get? Well, now that I think about it, they were kinda red and swollen...
I reached out and ran my hand down the left wing and frowned. How was I going to drive now? Okay, so that was very shallow to think, but back then I was really excited about learning to drive. Not that that'll help me now, but I digress. I poked the wing repeatedly, expecting it to smack me in the face or something. Then I thought, when can I get outta here? (Yeah, I had the attention span of a gnat back then, so sue me.) "When can I get up? And go home," I asked, rubbing my eye with my free hand. Mr. Wagner gently grabbed my hand to halt my rubbing. "Don't rub, you vill make it worse," he commanded.
"Whenever Hank clears it, you can leave the infirmary," said Mr...Summers was it? Yes, Summers. "What about going home," I asked. "That...I don't know," he said. Oh yeah. That sure made me feel better. "Can I talk to my mom?"
"Hey guys, I brought food," said another voice. Wasn't Mrs. Grey-Summers-whatever supposed to bring my food, I had thought. Not that I shoulda been too picky. I looked up at a sandy-haired guy with ice-coloured shades. Does everybody wear shades around here? "No, no need to thank me, really," he said, setting the tray on the table near my bed. "Uh thanks...where's Mrs. Grey-Summers," I asked.
"Jean hadda go do...somethin," said the dude, giving a sheepish smile and straddling the backward seat. I learned later that she had been called by someone and had asked him to take the food and her apologies to me. Men. I looked at the tray: a bowl of chicken soup, a glass of orange juice and a muffin. Peach orange mango juice, I had thought after sipping it. It was my favorite, but how could...
"Nice wings ya got there kid, not as impressive as Warren's, but," he poked my wing. "Still better than mine." I frowned. "But you don't have any wings," I protested.
"Exactly."
O-kaaaaayy. He was a little oo-oo in the noo-noo. I sipped my juice as Mr. Summers strode out, looking as if he owned all the world. Okay, so he had seemed a little cold at first, but he's not so bad. "Excuse me, frau," said the blue man shortly before poofing away. He poofed back in a flash (ha ha) and gave the blue shades dude a stern look. "Behave yourself, Bobby," he instructed. "Chill out Kurt, she's just a kid." Okay. DON'T LEAVE ME HERE WITH THE SCARY MAN, MR. WAGNER! He simply shook his head and bamfed away again.
Bobby pulled his chair closer to my bed and ran a hand through his hair. "What's your name, kid?"
"Lul...err, Madison."
"Okay Lul-err-Madison, where are ya from?" Smarty butt. I could tell he would be my new annoying lil feather.
"Ohio. And I want to go home," I demanded, pulling the tray onto my lap and taking a bite of my muffin. "Awww, but you just got here," he lamented. "You don't wanna go home yet."
"Yes I do...my mom...MY MOM! I haveta call my mom," I cried. "Your mom's gonna call later to check up on you."
"Why isn't she here," I demanded to know after I'd finished my muffin. Mmm. Blueberry.
"She had to stay home to file a police report."
Police report? "Police report? What police report?"
He had a look of 'uh oh I should not have said that' on his face. He started to bolt, but I reached out and grabbed his arm. "Why, Mr. Bob?"
He raised an eyebrow at that name, but answered with, "Some anti-mutant graffiti was painted all over your house."
"You mean my garage," I cut in.
"No, I mean your house."
-----------------------------------------------
Disclaimer: THE X-MEN DO NOT BELONG TO ME, I DO NOT CLAIM TO OWN THEM, THEY BELONG TO MARVEL. Had to get that in there so Marvel wouldn't sue me. Not like I've got any money anyways. ^^;; All the original characters belong to me (Frostbite, Negativity, Rift, Inferno, etc) and you can't use them unless you ask me first. So there. (AishiyuriiKomojo@neo.rr.com)