Remy shook his head as he looked down one street and turned the corner, leading Steph away from a bad smell that became worse the closer to the street he was avoiding they got. She saw police blocking the road and some people watching, trying to look at something down the lane.
"Remy, what's down there?" she asked, hurrying to walk beside the thief.
He shook his head. "Dat's de road t' de university."
Steph looked around, but she didn't recognize any of the buildings she had probably run past the night before. But then she wouldn't, she had been confused and running blindly, not stopping to remember landmarks.
"Rem," she said slowly and carefully, "do ya think I'll ever remember who I was?"
Remy looked at her carefully for a moment.
"Dunno," he said. "Has anyt'in come back t' you yet?"
Steph shrugged. "Sort of. I mean, almost, I can't…I saw a few faces in my dreams last night, but I couldn't tell who they were. I remembered a name though."
"Really?" Remy said, facing forward again.
She nodded, feeling better about talking about it, whether or not Remy really cared. It helped her organize the dream so she could make some sense of it.
"Yeah. Sam, I think...I think that's the name o' the baby in the picture. N' I saw the blue man again, n' a few others. I think I also remembered the faces, the kids in the lecture hall n' some o' the roof falling..." she trailed off and Remy nodded.
"I t'ink you'd remember dat firs'," he replied. "Come on, de hospital ain't far."
Remy groaned as the hospital came into view, large and looking packed as people walked in and out. Steph opened her mouth to ask what was wrong, and then she saw a small horde of men and women with microphones, cameras, and other equipment.
"The press?" she said.
Remy nodded, looking annoyed but walking forward and pushing his sunglasses more securely over his eyes.
"Dey are waitin' for de survivors t' come in," he said. "Dey might recognize you. Stay close t' me. If you wanna get through faster don' answer any questions."
Remy was right, the first few reporters seeing Steph looked momentarily stunned, then shouted and surged forward, alerting the others.
"Excuse me miss, are you Steph McCoy?" one shouted.
Steph froze for a moment, but Remy pushed her forward.
"We gotta get inside," he said, "de police won't let dem in, see? Dey already saw you too, dey might help."
Steph looked up and saw a few uniformed officers looking as shocked as the reporters, as they started to walk briskly towards her.
"Where have you been the last two nights?" one reporter shouted as Steph found microphones thrust in her face, more cameras were going off than she could count.
"Did you escape the wreckage by yourself?"
"What do you think about the crisis situation?"
"How badly injured are you?"
She bowed her head as Remy moved in front of her, plowing through the reporters roughly as the police reached them, also pushing their way through. Suddenly one reporter, looking for a picture, reached out and grabbed Steph's injured arm.
"Ow!" she yelped, but before she could react Remy had jumped forward and smashed the reporter in the face so that he let go of her and fell backwards.
Remy got red in the face as the reporters looked shocked, then started questioning again.
"Steph don't wanna talk t' any of you! Move aside!" he said.
Steph noted as he put a hand on her shoulder and pushed with his other arm that the still standing reporters were giving them a much wider berth. Then the police also reached the two mutants and made a small ring around them, giving them even more room to walk as they reached the doors and hurried inside.
"Thanks," she said to Remy shakily as he let go of her.
He smiled and shrugged as they made their way up to reception. "Dey should have known better."
The nurses looked hassled, but at least one also recognized Steph.
"Oh dear," she said, eyes widening. "You're that American girl, aren't you? What hap…no, that's none of my business, and I do not act like those awful paparazzi. Sign in here and the next available doctor will see you, though I'm afraid it may take some time, we're absolutely overrun."
"They all survivors?" Steph asked, looking around at the many people in bandages, some still waiting to be seen, others crying and some obviously waiting for news of their loved ones who had gone in with more serious injuries.
The nurse shook her head sadly. "We've received very few survivors from the actual bomb sites. Most were killed by the bombs or collapsing buildings, many didn't even make it here. These are the people who were outside the buildings or in other buildings around them. They were injured by being too close to where the explosions went off or the flying debris. I think you're the first conscious person from the university we've had."
Steph looked around again.
"Thank ya," she mumbled.
The nurse made a small noise of sympathy as Remy followed Steph to some of the last seats available.
He attempted a smile. "Well, at least you got here in one piece, chere."
Steph looked down.
"But no one else did," she said.
Remy shook his head. "If I hear de nurse right, dey did, just not walkin' yet."
Steph nodded and sighed.
"On the lighter note, you'll be all over the news f'r knocking out that reporter."
Remy nodded and chuckled. "Sure hope he don't wake up n' decide to press charges. I'd have t' kill him."
"You're not supposed to say that in a hospital," Steph said, and Remy nodded, still smiling.
"Yeah," he admitted. "I still would though."
Steph chuckled.
Hank sighed in his sleep, still on the couch that he hadn't moved from for two days. Suddenly two small hand beat on his chest as Sam gave an awkward jump.
"Mam!" she chirped.
Hank woke up slowly.
"What?" he said groggily.
Sam giggled and pointed at the TV.
"Mam!" she repeated.
Hank sat up so fast he had to catch her as she let out a surprised squeak. He couldn't believe his eyes. There was Steph, looking pale and in great pain, being jostled by reporters that surrounded her as she tried to go somewhere. She was avoiding all eye contact while a man in sunglasses and a brown coat walked ahead of her, trying to push the press aside.
Then a smiling woman came on the screen.
"It has been confirmed that Steph McCoy entered St. Peter's Hospital at approximately eleven twenty this morning, very much alive. Which must be a very big relief to her family and all those in the organization she founded to raise knowledge about the mutant phenomenon, Mutant Awareness. The exact extent of her injuries, including a serious-looking cut on her head, has not been released," she said. The camera shifted to an anchorman, who was smiling.
"And I heard, Sarah, that one of the reporters on the scene had an...incident, trying to get her picture," he said.
The woman appeared again, laughing softly. "Yes, one of the reporters apparently attempting to get a picture by grabbing an injured arm was met by a very angry guard trying to help Mrs. McCoy into the building, we have the footage here."
Again Steph was on the screen when suddenly a hand grabbed her right arm. She cried out and the brown-coated man in front of her immediately turned and punched the reporter in the face. Then the camera was jostled backwards as the lean-faced man turned back and put a protective arm around Steph's shoulders, moving her forward again.
"Makes you glad you don't work at the scene sometimes, huh?" The anchorman said, reappearing as he shuffled some papers.
The woman nodded and smiled.
"We'll be back after a short break," she said as an advertisement came on.
Hank gaped at the screen. Steph is alive, he thought. There was no mistaking that face, but it looked so damaged...smaller scrapes almost invisible compared to the wound on her head, but that didn't matter. Steph had been found!
Hank bounded over the back of the couch, holding Sam in one arm as he raced to find the others and share the news.
