| DC/Marvel: Age of Infinite Heroes | ||||||||||
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
|
Pain, dreams...Hope after the knocked out 'cold' part did not rest well. She tossed, turned, almost flung herself off the medical bed more than once! She slept the night through at least though. There is a quiet groan from her, still likely wearing the black clothes Mr. Sinister dressed her up in, but without the boots and long coat. Her dark lashes seem to flicker.
Scott glances up from where he sits at the foot of the bed, closing out whatever it was he was working on on the tablet in his hands and setting said tablet on the side-table just within arm's reach. He doesn't speak to rouse Hope further yet, instead just leaning forward and steeping his fingers, resting elbows on his knees and leaning forward to lightly rest his chin upon his thumbs, watching Hope intently.
Hope twitches a bit, the blanket all twisted atop her. When she peeks through her lashes, her body stiffens. A quiet..., "You...have no idea...how creepy that is...right now." Her voice sounds hoarse, her speech cracking a bit as if it has been a long time since she drank something. A shiver goes through her, and she...tries to smile...but it doesn't really look right, more like she's about to cry.
"You think this is bad? Imagine the Professor sitting here." Scott retorts, no anger lacing his tone, and at least a bit of amusement, if guarded amusement. Because ol' Chromedome is who Scott used to have to wake up to whenever he ended up in here. "How're you feeling? Any overwhelming urges to kill me still rattling around in there?"
"I....think I'll avoid telepaths for a little while," Hope says crackling. She shakes her head, and takes a shaky deep breath, "Could...use a drink." And a way to distract Scott so he doesn't see her fighting tears as she strongly shuts her eyes. The guilt is there, lying heavy, the pain too...but she shies from speaking about it.
Scott rises to his feet, moving over to pour a small glass of water from an icy pitcher nearby, then moving over to place it into Hope's hand. "Afraid that's not going to be an option. Jean, Emma, and probably the Professor too are all going to need to have a look. Sinister's known for sinking his hooks deep, and he's clever enough that he's even hidden nasty surprises from Charles in the past." He briefly covers Hope's hand with his own, "Believe me...I'd know."
A shiver at that, and Hope struggles to sit up, whimpering in pain. She tossed and turned so badly, even though her ribs are messed up, her entire front is bruised, and she has a bad bruise on her jaw. She looks quite roughed up, well, without her shirt on. She is quiet, her hand shaking beneath your own. She raises her other hand to grasp the glass as well, moving it to her lips to drink from it, her lips looking dry and she wets them some with the water. She doesn't even care that some water runs down her chin, to her clothes she wishes she wasn't wearing (cause they were Mr. Sinister's), and the blanket. She lowers the glass then, and opens her mouth, but then closes it. She...doesn't say anything, just stares in front of her and not really at Scott. What is going through her head is...perhaps unknown.
"Whatever you're thinking, it wasn't your fault, in any way, shape, or form." Scott notes, starting to move back towards the chair, and actually smiling a bit amusedly, "If we started blaming people every time one of our enemies turned their head around and mixed 'em up, we'd have a -really- small roster here."
Hope shakes her head, still looking down. "I got caught, he came here for me, took Jean's shape...didn't suspect, let my guard down. I...," she shivers, "You don't understand....I can...save or destroy the future Scott. He....," Hope hangs her head lower, her hands shaking on the glass of water. "He...twisted everything up inside me...part of me...wonders if 'this' is the real me still. I...don't know how...deep he got. If he saw...if he saw why I was here, what I know...he could ruin everything, break the last home. And...I -gave- him that chance."
Hope draws in a sharp breath, trying to hide the fact it is really a sob. Her eyes are closed tight. "I..failed you all. Put you all...in danger. What I know...isn't safe. Not for Jean...not for Emma...not for Professor Xavier, and...definitely -not- Mr. Sinister. What I know...is despair." She is named for the very thing she was never allowed to see...Hope.
"Doesn't matter. If he tries to stop you, we'll beat him." Scott says simply. "Sinister isn't an enemy that's easily anticipated, and there's no way you could have expected or known what was coming. If anything -we- failed -you-." And despite his mild tone, Scott is NOT happy about that in the least. "Whatever he might have discovered or not, there's nothing you can do about it right this moment. You need to rest, and we need to see if maybe we can find -out- what he knows."
Hope shakes her head, "Then...Professor Xavier," she finally says, hoping it does him the least amount of damage. Though..she suspects the strain on him will be...noticeable. "And...I'm not your responsibility, Scott. I...never let you be. I bring threats...to this school..," she shakes his time. "No..he has...to stay trapped, lost." She shivers. Nothing has brought Hope true fear, but whatever she experienced...has apparently bright her nightmares to the front of her mind. She forces herself to raise the glass to drink again, trying to ignore the dampness on her face. She's afraid if she holds the glass with one hand, it will drop.
Hope coughs a bit, drinking a bit too fast, and makes an expression and soft sound of great pain. Well, Scott certainly made her remember her attempt to kill him. "Least...I was emotionally compromised." She makes an odd laughing sound. "Otherwise, would have snipered you when you least expected it." A bitter sound. It isn't really funny, she's...horrified...but thankful that Mr. Sinister screwed it up, or perhaps he didn't...he just wanted to torment them both and see how they responded.
"Sinister targets the school anyway, Hope. He's not exactly an unknown quality to us. Just a trickier-than-most one." Scott notes, moving back to the side of the bed, bringing the chair along with him to sit down next to her, "Sinister's too dramatic to be that practical." Scott reassures on her "sniping" comment. Yes, he's making these small jokes even now. "Regardless, all this that you're feeling now? That's likely what he wants. The confusion, the guilt, the self-recrimination, the doubt. I think he enjoys that more than the more direct torment."
Hope shivers even as it brings her pain. It...reminds her she is alive anyway, the pain. And what she says next may chill Scott a bit, "I want him dead." the quietness of it, the ring of sincerity, of pain, and yes...of hatred. "I wanted him dead before, but now...I'd enjoy being the one to end it." And then something Scott has never seen in Hope before..., she actually throws the glass, water mostly gone to where it shatters against a wall and just screams! A sound of rage and pain, "Damn it! Damn him!" And she curls up, shaking violently. One hell of a nasty temper tantrum that likely would have been worse if not for her being so injured. There is ugliness in Hope, a very dangerous kind too. And Mr. Sinister made sure to tap into that ugliness to bring it back to the surface after she finally buried it when Bishop was banned to the far future.
"Well, if you find a way to kill him that sticks, let me know." Scott watches the display of temper impassively, watching the water drip down the wall for a few moments before looking back to Hope, "He's been toying with me since I was half your age, Hope. I know it's easier said than done, but the best thing you can do is not give him the satisfaction." He adds, "So get it out now." His tone isn't lecturing, just matter-of-fact.
Hope then says, "Nay-Nay said to never kill in hatred....but I don't really understand the point of that," the words gritted out. "Not when things are like this. I don't understand Nay-Nay at all!" The words are muffled, but apparently it does bug her, frustrate her, drive her crazy basically. And more than anything, Hope just wished she had some sort of answer. Though she's thankful for Scott not yelling at her, she isn't sure she could handle that right now.
"That's the second time I've heard that name for you. A pet-name for someone? Your mysterious father?" Scott notes, "Sounds like reasonable advice. You let yourself kill in anger and hatred, and it starts to become too easy to justify again in the future, until eventually you're killing people that don't necessarily need killing."
"Mr. Sinister -needs- it," Hope believes that. But she's getting more controlled now. She lifts her face a bit, raising a had to wipe at her eyes, to get rid of tears. "Remember the statue I bought, of the old farmer that looked like my dad? That's Nay-Nay." She doesn't say anything more, silent for a bit, at least until, "I hurt. Can I have some pain killers?"
"We gave you some earlier, but they must have worn off." Scott notes, moving over to a nearby cabinet to break out an appropriate dose of an appropriate medicine, then glancing back over his shoulder towards Hope with a faint smile, "Is the glass going to be safe this time?"
A hiccup from Hope and a wince from the pain of it. "Yes. Sorry...I...have moments of rage. I thought I had them under control, things are...calmer...here," meaning this time period. "Nay-Nay usually just picked me up and made me do whatever it was anyway, but boy...did I have a habit of making him pay for it." She smiles sadly at the memory. "I can be pretty vindictive," as if Scott didn't already notice. Hope is usually so sweet and shy around Scott, even needy. This was...different.
Scott places a fresh glass of cool water and a couple of pills in Hope's hands. "You? Vindictive? I hadn't noticed...." Scott replies in a dry tone, before seating himself again, "Sip it slowly and count to ten. It'll get rid of those hiccups."
A nod, and the pills are popped in and Hope starts drinking the water slowly, holding it with both hands as she counts to ten. She's still exhausted, the strain on her must have been great. But Scott has been there before, he knows what it is like. After she is finished, Hope lowers the glass and licks her slightly chapped lips. "Hey, I thought I've been really well-behaved till now. I know trying to murder your...well, murder you wasn't well-behaved, but I thought I got it the rest of the time."
"You mean aside from the running around willy-nilly fighting evil every time my back is turned?" Scott teases once more, before reaching to place a hand on Hope's shoulder. "You should probably rest more, and that medicine is likely to knock you out as it stands."
Hope says, "I want a shower though." But she shakes her head, "Hey, running around when people aren't looking is what I grew up doing. I don't know any other way." She smiles lopsidedly then. But she holds the finished off water out this time. "Will...you stay until I fall asleep?" Her face looks a little crumbled. "And...maybe...hell, I don't know if you trust me with one of my guns right now, but it make me feel safer."
"If you think you'll be steady on your feet, you should have time to rinse off before the medicine starts to kick in." Scott notes, and gestures to a bundle of cloth nearby, which upon closer inspection would be revealed as a set of comfy Xavier Institute sweatpants and a t-shirt, with appropriate undergarments, garnered from Hope's own wardrobe, "And I'll stay until you crash. Then someone else will take over. You won't be alone, but no guns until we're sure you don't have any residual "programming" in place to start blasting away once it's in your hands.
"Damn, so much for killing Cessily and calling it programming," Hope grumbles, not really serious. But she moves to get to her feet, but rather than move over toward the bits of clothing, she moves toward Scott and...
...Well, if he doesn't move away, Hope will hug him about the waist and bury her face against his chest. And she just...holds him if he permits, clinging to him. The love, sorrow, and regret is there.
Scott hugs her back, gently (mindful if her bruised/cracked ribs), and lets her cling for as long as she sees fit to cling, but he's not going to wash her if she passes out before making it to the shower! He does add a brief kiss on the top of her head. He's not entirely sure -why- he feels such a paternal surge of emotion where Hope is concerned, but he's long since stopped questioning such things.
A quiet mmm from Hope at the kiss atop her head, and she very reluctantly pulls away. She smiles up at you. Perhaps not the trust Scott wishes for, but there is love and trust in her expression, before Hope turns away to get the clothes and go to the small shower in the corner of the medbay. It will only take her a few minutes to get the worse off, though it takes her longer than she expected to was her hair thanks to the ribs and bruises. But Scott can perhaps hear her complain, "Black and blue are not my colors....." Still, the uniform from Mr. Sinister she was wearing is off to the side, tossed out. There were no hidden devices in it that the X-Men could find.
That uniform will likely be nowhere to be found when Hope gets out. Disposed of in an incinerator somewhere, most likely. Meanwhile, Scott's seated again, once more working on his tablet. After all, the School doesn't stop when one (or more!) members are laid up.
Hope comes out barefoot, a towel wrapped about her hair and wearing the sweats. She says in a tired voice, "I can't dry my hair." She looks...exhausted, and still in pain as she just stands there before you, unhappily. She doesn't like being injured.
"Sit down then." Scott gestures to the bed, and takes the towel, patting and rubbing down her scarlet tresses until they're at least down to "slightly damp" rather than "dripping wet." "That's about the best I can do. I don't have a hairbrush handy."
Hope is barely awake by the time Scott is done. She mmmms, "Thank you." She moves to lay down, wincing a bit as she does, though not as bad as earlier. She mmmms..., "Tuck me in." A demanding little thing when drugged up, isn't she? Oh wait, she's like that all the time. Just usually less cute about it.
Scott sighs, shaking his head in wry bemusement, and does indeed tuck Hope in, bringing the blanket up over her shoulders and making sure she's settled in. Then he moves to reclaim his chair, keeping his promise to wait until Hope is asleep before swapping out for another "visitor."
When Scott moves back toward his chair though, Hope's hand moves out to capture his. Her eyes seem closed though as she holds your hand, "Just...a little bit." She used to sleep curled up against her dad for years, never alone. It was something she had to get used to when they were separated due to a tamper tantrum. Three years of sleeping alone. She can handle it now, but there is comfort in company...and thus why she often joins Laura on rough nights.
After a little while, Hope does start to fall asleep while holding Scott's hand, her warm breath lightly brushing up against his hand. Her grasp gentles as she falls deeper and deeper into sleep, her expression softening except for the lingering stress lines of pain felt even in her sleep. Her hair looks crazy, damp drying and unbrushed. Still, she is finally safe, and back to her old self with Scott.