These Earthly Things: Epilogue
Feb. 28th, 2008 10:00 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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xp_logsOnce the rest of the team has gone, taking the Professor with them, Angelo and Amanda wait for reinforcements whilst taking care of the injured. The problem is, Miguel doesn't have a lot of time left.
Blood seeped... no, it ran over Angelo's hands as he pressed them to the wounds in Miguel's chest. Amanda finished bandaging Alejandra's wrists with pieces of torn-off shirt, then knelt down next to him. She knew the injury was serious - without medical intervention, it was likely Miguel wouldn't make it out of the tunnels. "Fuck," she breathed. Heart's blood spilled in sacrifice... "It wasn't you. It was Miguel."
Angelo's face was desolate, desperate, and he looked to be only one step below tears as he tried to stop the bleeding. "He's not gonna die. Not now, not like this. He's not, the team are comin', they'll be here any minute... he's gonna make it."
"Ange..." Something in Amanda's chest twisted, seeing him in that state, seeing him desperate to save the man who had once nearly killed him. If it had been Alejandra, it would have been easier to understand... "His heart's been... If he doesn't get help now, I don't think he's gunna make it."
"No", Angelo said, shaking his head in automatic denial and still pressing his hands to the other man's chest. "No, no, I'm not gonna let... he's come all this way, he can't just die in this fuckin' Godforsaken place." He looked up at her, pleading. "Can you heal him?"
She bit her lip. "I... could stabilise him. But I'd need a power source." She met his eyes. "Living energy. I can't use the city for healing."
There was no hesitation. "Use me. How much would you need?"
"Too much." Amanda's face closed off. "With this sort of damage, the blood loss, I'd need to take enough to seriously drain you, and then I'd have three unconscious people on my hands, plus be weakened myself." She glanced at Alejandra, slumped unconscious from the pain and blood loss. The other woman's face was ashen. "I wouldn't be able to protect you if anything happened, and I'm not going to hurt you like that."
He glanced from her, to Alejandra, to the door, and finally back to the man under his hands. "You'll have help soon, but not soon enough for Miguel. I want you to do it."
She followed his glance, taking in the cultists lying fallen around the chamber. "That's not your decision to make, Ange. It'll half-kill you, and I won't do that." Not for someone she wasn't entirely sure wouldn't betray Angelo's trust one day. Another glance around the room, and her mind was made up. She began sliding her hands under his, to keep the pressure on the wound. "See to Alejandra. She's going into shock. You can help her, you can't help him."
"If you don't, no one can", he told her, eyes intense, but lifted his hands as soon as hers were in place. "He's hardly even started gettin' his chance yet."
"Keep her warm," was all Amanda said. She waited for him to move away before closing her eyes. Miguel's blood was warm and sticky on her hands.
Angelo moved to the girl, curled into herself on the ground, and spread himself over her as only he could. He wasn't entirely sure if she could hear him, but figuring it couldn't hurt, he also began murmuring reassurance and comfort in soft Spanish.
With her eyes closed and her hands pressed to Miguel's chest, it looked almost as if Amanda was praying. But then light, fitful and feeble, illuminated her hands. There was no accompanying sensation of weakness or dizziness, however, no sense of something being taken from him... and then one of the cultists let out a soft gasp and stopped breathing. Another, who had been moaning softly even unconscious, stiffened and then went limp. And so it continued - one after the other, cultists who had been injured, but still alive had their remaining energies taken. Taken and poured into Miguel, focussed on repairing the fatal damage to his heart.
Amanda was starting to show signs of strain, he could see that. But she'd sent him over there to do a job, and while it was clearly necessary, it also meant she hadn't wanted him too close. And to be honest, Angelo wouldn't have been inclined to stop what she was doing even if Alejandra hadn't needed his presence.
The last of the living cultists let go with a soft sigh - a far more peaceful death than any of their victims had received - and Amanda hung on for just a little longer, trying to make sure Miguel was stable. But the tug of her powers at Angelo and Alejandra was getting too strong to resist, and she lifted her hands, ending the spell. The gunshot wounds were still there, but the blood had slowed to a sluggish ooze, and Miguel's pulse was weak, but steady. A moment of fatigue washed over her, and she slumped a little, bowing her head and willing it away.
"Are you okay?" Angelo asked quietly, without so much as looking at the bodies around them. The words barely out of his mouth, there were footsteps in the passage leading to the room, and familiar voices.
"I will be." Her head shot up at the sound of footsteps. "Shite, I'd better go. This..." She gestured at the carnage around them. "'S too hard to explain." She pushed herself to her feet, made her way to the entrance and paused - sound carried in the tunnels, and the X-Men were further way than they'd sounded. "Get them to a hospital. I'll talk to you later," she said, meeting his eyes briefly before turning away to go.
"We'll be in the medlab", he called after her, then moved over slightly to adjust Alejandra's cover. Nothing to do now but wait for the others to arrive.
One last scene - Amanda makes it home, and makes a detour.
Amanda wouldn't have been able to say later how she found her way out of the tunnels, beyond 'a feeling' she was going the right way. Mark had met her at a pre-arranged point, and helped her home through the post-healing fatigue. Once at the brownstone, however, she'd told him gently there was something she needed to do, up on the third floor. He'd nodded in understanding, and left her to it.
The fatigue was gradually easing. But there was still a certain tremble in Amanda's hand as she lifted it to knock on Sofia's door. Stuffing her hands into her jacket pockets, shoulders a little hunched, she waited, as patiently as she could.
The door opened, and Amanda gave a weak, wobbly smile. "Hey Sof. Got some couch time? I... think I need it."
Blood seeped... no, it ran over Angelo's hands as he pressed them to the wounds in Miguel's chest. Amanda finished bandaging Alejandra's wrists with pieces of torn-off shirt, then knelt down next to him. She knew the injury was serious - without medical intervention, it was likely Miguel wouldn't make it out of the tunnels. "Fuck," she breathed. Heart's blood spilled in sacrifice... "It wasn't you. It was Miguel."
Angelo's face was desolate, desperate, and he looked to be only one step below tears as he tried to stop the bleeding. "He's not gonna die. Not now, not like this. He's not, the team are comin', they'll be here any minute... he's gonna make it."
"Ange..." Something in Amanda's chest twisted, seeing him in that state, seeing him desperate to save the man who had once nearly killed him. If it had been Alejandra, it would have been easier to understand... "His heart's been... If he doesn't get help now, I don't think he's gunna make it."
"No", Angelo said, shaking his head in automatic denial and still pressing his hands to the other man's chest. "No, no, I'm not gonna let... he's come all this way, he can't just die in this fuckin' Godforsaken place." He looked up at her, pleading. "Can you heal him?"
She bit her lip. "I... could stabilise him. But I'd need a power source." She met his eyes. "Living energy. I can't use the city for healing."
There was no hesitation. "Use me. How much would you need?"
"Too much." Amanda's face closed off. "With this sort of damage, the blood loss, I'd need to take enough to seriously drain you, and then I'd have three unconscious people on my hands, plus be weakened myself." She glanced at Alejandra, slumped unconscious from the pain and blood loss. The other woman's face was ashen. "I wouldn't be able to protect you if anything happened, and I'm not going to hurt you like that."
He glanced from her, to Alejandra, to the door, and finally back to the man under his hands. "You'll have help soon, but not soon enough for Miguel. I want you to do it."
She followed his glance, taking in the cultists lying fallen around the chamber. "That's not your decision to make, Ange. It'll half-kill you, and I won't do that." Not for someone she wasn't entirely sure wouldn't betray Angelo's trust one day. Another glance around the room, and her mind was made up. She began sliding her hands under his, to keep the pressure on the wound. "See to Alejandra. She's going into shock. You can help her, you can't help him."
"If you don't, no one can", he told her, eyes intense, but lifted his hands as soon as hers were in place. "He's hardly even started gettin' his chance yet."
"Keep her warm," was all Amanda said. She waited for him to move away before closing her eyes. Miguel's blood was warm and sticky on her hands.
Angelo moved to the girl, curled into herself on the ground, and spread himself over her as only he could. He wasn't entirely sure if she could hear him, but figuring it couldn't hurt, he also began murmuring reassurance and comfort in soft Spanish.
With her eyes closed and her hands pressed to Miguel's chest, it looked almost as if Amanda was praying. But then light, fitful and feeble, illuminated her hands. There was no accompanying sensation of weakness or dizziness, however, no sense of something being taken from him... and then one of the cultists let out a soft gasp and stopped breathing. Another, who had been moaning softly even unconscious, stiffened and then went limp. And so it continued - one after the other, cultists who had been injured, but still alive had their remaining energies taken. Taken and poured into Miguel, focussed on repairing the fatal damage to his heart.
Amanda was starting to show signs of strain, he could see that. But she'd sent him over there to do a job, and while it was clearly necessary, it also meant she hadn't wanted him too close. And to be honest, Angelo wouldn't have been inclined to stop what she was doing even if Alejandra hadn't needed his presence.
The last of the living cultists let go with a soft sigh - a far more peaceful death than any of their victims had received - and Amanda hung on for just a little longer, trying to make sure Miguel was stable. But the tug of her powers at Angelo and Alejandra was getting too strong to resist, and she lifted her hands, ending the spell. The gunshot wounds were still there, but the blood had slowed to a sluggish ooze, and Miguel's pulse was weak, but steady. A moment of fatigue washed over her, and she slumped a little, bowing her head and willing it away.
"Are you okay?" Angelo asked quietly, without so much as looking at the bodies around them. The words barely out of his mouth, there were footsteps in the passage leading to the room, and familiar voices.
"I will be." Her head shot up at the sound of footsteps. "Shite, I'd better go. This..." She gestured at the carnage around them. "'S too hard to explain." She pushed herself to her feet, made her way to the entrance and paused - sound carried in the tunnels, and the X-Men were further way than they'd sounded. "Get them to a hospital. I'll talk to you later," she said, meeting his eyes briefly before turning away to go.
"We'll be in the medlab", he called after her, then moved over slightly to adjust Alejandra's cover. Nothing to do now but wait for the others to arrive.
One last scene - Amanda makes it home, and makes a detour.
Amanda wouldn't have been able to say later how she found her way out of the tunnels, beyond 'a feeling' she was going the right way. Mark had met her at a pre-arranged point, and helped her home through the post-healing fatigue. Once at the brownstone, however, she'd told him gently there was something she needed to do, up on the third floor. He'd nodded in understanding, and left her to it.
The fatigue was gradually easing. But there was still a certain tremble in Amanda's hand as she lifted it to knock on Sofia's door. Stuffing her hands into her jacket pockets, shoulders a little hunched, she waited, as patiently as she could.
The door opened, and Amanda gave a weak, wobbly smile. "Hey Sof. Got some couch time? I... think I need it."
