xp_logs | Things Get Trippy: Monday morning, after 10.30-ish

"Remarkable," Hank said, holding Amanda gently by the chin and shining his penlight in first one eye, then the other. "It appears your claims had some veracity."

"Say wot?" asked the Brit, succumbing to the doctor’s examination as meekly as she could. Unlike many of the mansion’s residents, she didn’t have a particular phobia of medical procedures, she hadn’t actually seen a doctor very often in her life. And whilst Hank’s touch was very gentle, it was still touch, and the sensation of fingers on skin that had very recently been hit very hard was a difficult one to take.

"You were right," Hank translated with a smile. He turned the left side of her face towards the light; there was some bruising and a small amount of swelling, but compared to the mess she’d been in only the day before, it was quite a difference. The cheekbone and nose were still knitting, but the healing had advanced to a state he would have expected in several weeks, not twenty-four hours. "As lacking as it is in scientific basis, this healing magic of yours is certainly effective."

Amanda didn’t bother to hide her smug grin. "Told yer so, didn’t I?"

Hank released her chin. "Indeed you did," he said, making some notes on the chart he had laid on the bed. "The injuries to your wrist are healing more slowly – I think the cast will be required for another week. Any particular reason why this is the case?"

"More damage," Amanda said shortly. "Bone’s harder to work with than skin in any case – it’s too dense – an’ it wasn’t just the break, there was tendon damage as well. Wrists are complicated, y’know?"

"Indeed I do," Hank agreed wryly. "So the more severe the injury, the longer it takes to heal?" Amanda nodded. "And what about scarring?" he asked, watching her reaction carefully. He and Madelyn had undressed the unconscious girl when she’d been brought in, and he understood why she reacted so strongly to the thought of someone seeing her scars. They were… extreme.

"If the wound’s fresh an’ I get to it in time, or if it’s not really bad, there’s practically none. I can help heal old scars, tho’ that’s more complicated – skin tends to set into patterns, an’ doesn’t like changin’. Some things I can’t touch – mystical-type wounds, mostly." Amanda kept her tone deliberately casual, but as she said the last she met Hank’s eyes defiantly, as if daring him to pity her. "Some things can’t be fixed, doc."

"As I am well aware, Amanda. As for the rest… I am curious, I must admit. Perhaps we could conduct some further studies of your occult abilities, gather some data on the process behind your spell casting, whether it involves the transfer of energy…"

"Whatever. Does this mean you’ll let me try an’ help Angelo an’ anyone else that needs it?" Amanda asked. Hank rolled his eyes slightly – the girl was proving most persistent on that point.

"Whilst I am prepared to admit that in relation to yourself you have some skill, I am reluctant to put my other patients at risk of a procedure that hasn’t been fully tested. You haven’t proven to me that you can heal others, and I would prefer we work perhaps on some more minor injuries and determine the extent of your ability to heal, and whether it has any negative effects. Start small, as it were."

Amanda ground her teeth in frustration. Not even she could explain why it was so important to her that she do this – although proving she wasn’t a helpless victim type might have played a role – and all this wrangling with Hank was just stupid. A total waste of time. Again she wondered why she didn’t just accept the refusal and move on. The thought gave her an idea.

"Fine," she said, startling Hank with her sudden acquiescence. "You science types don’t like stuff you can’t slap a label on, I get that. That bein’ said, ‘ow about you give me my freedom, then? Let me out of here, make space for someone else?" Hank looked doubtful.

"Your injuries were quite severe, and your wandering the halls certainly didn’t aid matters. I would prefer it if you stayed another night for observation…" Amanda pouted, looking up at Hank with soulful blue eyes through the black-tipped blonde hair that hung over her face.

"C’mon doc, you said yerself I was healing. Besides, you’ll get a lot more done without me nagging at you every five minutes," she said, her tone wheedling. Hank wasn’t fooled, but had to admit the medlab would be a lot easier to run without Amanda in it. Madelyn was avoiding this particular cubicle entirely after coming up against the witch’s constant needling and complaints. "Paige could babysit if you insist on me bein’ watched," Amanda added, seeing the doctor waver.

"Very well. Provided you come straight back here if you feel unwell, understand? And you’ll need to come back next week to have that cast removed. Don’t make me look for you." Hank said sternly. Amanda nodded.

"Yer a sweetie, doc," she said, beaming at him. "Can I go now?"

"Not yet – there’s some paperwork I need to arrange and I think an escort would be a wise idea, just to make sure you don’t come to any harm on the way. Or get ‘lost’ and find yourself in ICU where Angelo is, doing things we agreed you wouldn’t yet." Hank suppressed a smile at the guilty look that crossed Amanda’s face. "I’ll go do that now; you just wait there. No wandering."

She sighed, crossing her legs up underneath her as she sat on the bed. "Fine. I’ll stay here. No need to get excited."

"See how much more pleasant things are when you are reasonable?" Hank said, enjoying making Amanda squirm, just a little bit. The girl had indeed been most trying. He scooped up his clipboard and left the cubicle to arrange her release.

***

"You’ve got to be kidding," Cain said flatly, crossing his arms over his chest and looking at the blue-furred doctor with disbelief. "You want me to play nursemaid to one of your delinquents?"

"Just escort her to her room, that’s all," Hank replied smoothly, not intimidated by the groundskeeper’s attitude. "One of the other students would be susceptible to her powers of persuasion and possibly aid her in performing a potentially dangerous and untested procedure on one of my patients, and the rest of the staff are unavailable to assist. You, on the other hand, are neither persuasible nor sympathetic, and you are here and not especially busy. The task will take you fifteen minutes. Tops."

"This is ridiculous," Cain muttered, but unable to come up with an argument right then and there. Besides, the doc looked exhausted, and if getting the kid out of his hair (and there was a lot of it) would make his life easier, then Cain couldn’t really contribute to his stress. Too many people were relying on him and Bartlett. "Fine. I’ll take the kid to her room. Straight there, no detours. Happy?"

"Deliriously so," Hank replied, looking far happier already. "Come along and I’ll introduce you two."

Cain followed Hank through the medlab to the side room which had been converted to patient cubicles in the aftermath of the last invasion of the school. Half-way there, Hank’s pager beeped.

"Damn," he muttered, looking at it. "I have to go and attend to one of the other children," he added to Cain. "Amanda’s in that last cubicle, there." He pointed the way and then bustled off, lab coat flying.

"Great." Cain stomped over the indicated door and tapped on it, careful not to break the thin wood.

"Wot?" came a distinctly unfriendly girl’s voice.

"Escort service," Cain replied, smirking a little to himself. "You decent, kid?"

"I’ve had no complaints," was the reply, and Cain rolled his eyes. Another smart alec. He pushed the door open.

"Too bad, I’m coming in any way," he said, coming into the small room. The kid on the bed was skinny and pale and looked a bit rough – she had enough metal in her face to fund a small African country, and the attitude to match, that much he could see. She gave him an appraising look.

"Bloody escort’s sure are ugly over here," she began. Then a strange expression crossed her face – happy, dreamy, almost blissful. She closed her eyes and swayed slightly, as if buffeted by a strong wind, and when she opened her eyes again, he could have sworn they glowed briefly. When they cleared the pupils were so dilated the blue of her irises was almost totally hidden.

"Wow," she breathed. Then she seemed to focus on him again and smiled, a happy, loopy kind of smile. "You’re a gorgeous human being, you know that?"

Cain blinked almost audibly. "Excuse me?"

"You're just... wow, you ever have that feeling when you're just one and at peace?" Amanda's voice was breathy and dreamlike as she held her arms out to Cain. Marko blinked again and took a step back.

"Can't really say I ever have. Look, can you walk on your own, or-"

"Why walk when we should be running, and dancing, and flying under the blue sky and just bathing in the warm sun?" Amanda stood on shaky legs, arms out and attempting to pirouette like a ballerina. The effect was rather like a gutshot mallard, tripping over her own legs and almost braining herself on the end table before Cain caught her.

"First, it's overcast outside-"

"See! That means we've got a wossname, a connection, man."

"No, it means you're stoned out of your fucking mind. Whatever the hairball gave you, wish I could have had that shit when I was your age. All right, up you get."

Cain hauled Amanda to her feet by the back of her shirt, only to have her roll into his grasp and entwine her arms with his. Cain attempted to gently pry her away, but wasn't about to send his hands into what he considered dangerous territory. "Jesus H. Christ..." he mumbled, wrapping one massive arm around Amanda's hips and hauling her up to be carried like a baby over one shoulder.

Amanda's only response was a breathy "Ooh, swept off my feet, just like a princess! With glitter, and sparkles, and cake for all my subjects!"

"You even try and put any glitter or sparkles on me and so help me God, I will throw your anorexic ass through a wall." Cain hurried himself from the basement up to the foyer, and towards the undamaged staircase. As he headed up towards the girl's room, he narrowly avoided trampling the young Spaniard limping out of the bathroom on his cane.

"||Clumsy pig!||", Manuel rasped in Castilian, glaring after the red-haired giant. Perhaps he would enjoy a few hours as a scared child with a bedwetting problem and... a wash of emotion swept over Manuel briefly, erasing any thoughts of petty revenge he may have had.

**

"There we go, in your room, my job is done." Cain unceremoniously dumped Amanda onto a bed that he hoped was hers, quickly backing away. "You need anything, you call someone else, you hear?"

Amanda giggled, kicking her feet like a little girl. "Oh, I forgot to give you a tip! That’s what they do in this country, right?" She reached out to Cain, beckoning playfully. Marko sighed and shook his head, turning into the hall.

"'Sixteen'll get you thirty', only tip I need, kid. Get yourself a cold shower, sober up. And lock your damn door." Cain shut the door behind him as he got himself as far away from the room as he could.

***

Another section to come involving what happens when a Stoned!Witch and a Uncontrolled!Empath meet...