Xaviers!

When the adrenaline of all of the excitement had begun to wear off, Victor started to have trouble keeping consciousness. He wasn't really aware of it, he'd be listening to Emilie and the others but then the conversation would skip ahead and he was having more and more trouble following along. By the time she'd gotten him to the medical building he had fully passed out and was already half way to his normal size. Victor didn't remember arriving at the building, or being examined, or the general fear and confusion of the other students who were being treated there. There really wasn't much to remember over the next couple of days. Any time he drifted back to consciousness, the painkillers and medication in his system clouded his mind to a degree that he was completely incognizant of the world around him. Well, except for a few things.

It was probably for the best that he hadn't been more aware of his surroundings, or at least himself. Most of his body was badly bruised, his skin ranging from plum purple to a sickly colicky yellow. A large patch of his back was covered in first and second degree burns. The back and front portions of his brain were both showing signs of concussion, both eyes were black and swollen. Of cuts and scraps he had only few, and no broken bones to speak of; it seemed in his little state he'd been blasted around the inside of the tank like a rocket-powered pinball, but his bones had been dense enough to withstand the multiple impacts.

Victor awoke more sore than he'd ever been in his entire life. And growing up on a farm, he'd been sore a lot. And that sound... that high-pitched whine. It was muffling all of the other sounds, there was no way for him to ignore it. He attempted to move and winced, stifling a groan. Captain Canuck never had to deal with this kind of stuff. But then again he had a suit made of nano-technology and got his power from aliens. Also he was a comic book.

"Who... stop screamin' 'bout birds..." He muttered with eyes half-lidded.

((open thread))

"Nobody here but us chickens, Doc." Emilie replied to his murmurings, though she suspected he was reacting to a kerfuffle he'd heard in the hall some time ago now.

The girl had practically lived here with Victor. When the nurses kicked her out at night, she'd be there as soon as they'd let her in. Someone else agreed to swap her shifts so she was only working her job during the times the nurses forbade her to be here.


At the moment she was bunkered down in a chair meant for visitors with a pile of yarns,a bag full of snacks, books, and other various bullshit.

She waited to see if he'd form a proper respone this time instead of incoherent babbling.

" 'm not a doctor." He grumbled, shifting with a groan. "Get the chiggens outta here. They'll shit on everything."

Yeah, the painkillers were pretty good. But he was actually acknowledging things.

"It's just me, Silly-Billy." She replied, moving closer to him in hopes she could move into his field of vision so he didn't hurt himself trying to look at her.

Victor looked like he was squinting his eyes, though it was kind of hard to tell.

"Oh hey, you're still here. I guess I'm still here too then.

"Did I use that one already?"

"This is the first time you've been capable of holding a conversation in several days, so no." She replied, sounding vaguely amused.

"Seems stupid to ask how you feel..." She continued, her tone dropping.

Victor tried his best not to make any sounds of pain.

"I - really can't remember a lot. Like - I remember us coming back with the time fixing machine, and then there were soldiers...."

He looked down at himself.

"Am I all here?"

"If you mean all the parts being attached, then yes, so far as I know anyways. There's parts the nurses don't find it appropriate to allow me to check on in a medical setting." She smirked.

"Now their condition is a bit... fucked up. I'mma be frank, yer all fucked up."

Victor mulled that over. It seemed like it took him a little longer to get things than he normally would.

"Did we win?"

"Yes." She answered, omitting the finer details.

"... s'was worth it then." Victor managed to smile. "Grampy would've been proud."

"Did I ever tell you about him? Like, before?"

"Tell me again." She replies, Not everything was always the same, the story could have been new to her.

"He was actually my great grandfather. And he was the one who moved to Canada in the first place. See, he was in the war... but not on our side.

"You ever hear about how at the end of the war, many of the German POWs in Canada didn't want to go back because they'd been treated so nicely in the prison camps? Yeah, he was one of them. He actually was part of a tank crew, got captured when their tank got knocked out in the Netherlands. He never talked about it without thankin' God that he got the chance to surrender to us rather than the Russians. That and he was in one of the newer tanks that stored most of their rounds outside rather than in.

"He passed away when I was 12."

The story was more or less the same, but Emilie hadn't had the chance to say this in years, and the temptation became too great.

"Candian Nazis. Pfft.

I hate Canadian Nazis." She teased him, smirking.

Victor wrinkled his brow in thought.

"That's not the line."

"Mmmmno? I get a little confused sometimes, so many things floating around in my head." She was merely relenting so he didn't try to argue about something so silly. Then she got serious.

"I fucked up." She said. "I'm sorry. I haven't had to do this in awhile. I'm rusty. I forgot how much trouble you like to get yourself into."

What're you talking about? Everything went according to plan, right?"

"You planed to be burnt to a crisp and black and blue like Tina Turner? 'Cuz that was not part of my plan."

"Well if we hadn't done it I might've gotten shot, or blown up, or something. So all in all, a minor detail."

"No. It isn't." She replied frowning.

"You need to be more careful Victor. I can't-

It's my job to die. It's your job to live. Okay?"

"Em I could die tomorrow from an undiagnosed brain tumor, or get hit by a bus, or choke on a pretzel. I mean, it's scary and all but I can't live in a bubble."

Emilie shook her head. "That's not what I mean. Don't do stupid shit, alright? If it's risky, let me handle it."

Victor mulled it over for a moment.

"Naw."

Emilie's frown turned into a sour scowl, but she didn't say anything else. Just glared at him in a fashion that after long enough might start to make him feel awkward.

"I'm not gonna start treatin' you like some kinda henchman or something Em."

"No, you're not. For one, henchmen get paid. I hear Hydra has great dental.

You offer dental?"

"It's gonna be covered under health care soon enough."

Emilie sighed.

"You're missing the point.

Would you send the good doctor McCoy to handle a telepath?"

"Which one? The blue fuzzy one, or the future space one?"

Victor didn't have that sort of snarky tone he usually had. He was legitimately not sure which one she meant and apparently this would influence his answer.

"Either really, but I was talking about the one that actually exists and works here." She smirked.

Victor mulled it over.

"I dunno. I'm not good at chess."

"Exactly." Emilie stated, pleased they seemed to be on the same page, or enough of one for now that she was contented to let it go.

"Besides, how will you make people bow to your genius at the Halloween party now?"

"Oh I'll be better by then. Either they'll science me up... or I'll pretend I'm allergic to sunchokes."

As if on cue there's a knock on the door and a young girl walks in. Emilie might recognize her or if not at least the family resemblance to Rob. She's got an iPad or something similar clipped to her belt and she looks strangely professional for her age, though part of that is her obviously trying a bit too hard to make up for her age.

"Hi, sorry, don't mind me, I'm just here to check on the equipment and gather your vitals. Hope everyone's doing okay in here." It sounds a little bit like a memorized line.

"Fine enough, considering. " Emilie indeed was familiar with her, but didn't let it show.

"You want the nice candy striper to get you anything Vic? More pillows? Another blanket? A shit ton of morphine?" She joked.

"I think I'm good." Victor mumbled before a look of awkward realization crossed his face. He leaned forward to try and whisper to Em, but was a bit too loud.

"She doesn't have to change my bedpan does she? Am I using one of those?"

"Eww, no! I'm not a nurse. I'm the the Medical Tech Assistant!" she says and points at the computer on her hip as she walks over to the monitoring equipment hooked up to Vic. She grabs her touchpad and holds it up in front and talks to the machine in a hushed voice, having a seemingly one-sided conversation. "And that's all correct? Okay, thank you. Please send it all to my friend. Ooph, owie, that's gotta hurt. Thank you."

"All done! There's a bunch of hurt people, so I asked the system to sort everything by who needs the most help." She tilts her head briefly as if listening to a non-existant voice from her little pad. "It says you qualify for one unit of regenerative treatment if you're okay with receiving a transfusion from a mutant."

Emilie remained quiet for the moment while the two conversed.

"Sorry, I didn't know. I'm not used to hospitals." Victor felt a little sheepish from having mislabeled the woman.

"Ah... It'd be a bit hypocritical of me not to be okay with it, wouldn't it?"

"I guess." she says cheerfully. "Some people just don't like it. And s'okay, it's a thing I'm doing cause I can talk to machines and I want to help people. The title's just a thing Miss Ashlie made up for me." she giggles. That probably somewhat explains why a young girl that's maybe 13 years old is working in a hospital.