Artie, Jubilee and Marie-Ange: Hospital visits and disclosure. (Backdated to the 27th of December)

[x-artie.livejournal.com]

After the events of Poison Honey, Artie wakes up in hospital.

This time, when Artie woke up, he felt more coherent than he had any of the previous times when all he'd really been able to establish was that he hurt and was in the hospital.


This time, when Artie woke up, he felt more coherent than he had any of the previous times when all he'd really been able to establish was that he hurt and was in the hospital. He was still groggy and disoriented but not as badly as before. His head hurt like hell, though, just as it had all the other times he'd woken up. Jubilee was sitting in a chair nearby, occupied with something.

Someone had made sure that his synthesiser was placed conveniently at hand. He picked it up and flicked it down through the recently said items on the screen, tilting it so that he could read it without moving his head. He'd asked (kind of, with the sort of spelling that only a machine made by Forge could cope with) if everyone was okay before. He couldn't remember the answer. He asked it again. "Is everyone okay?"

"Various levels of it," Jubilee noted, sliding her phone into her pocket as she took a good look at his eyes, noting the slightly groggy look of the well drugged. "Told Marie-Ange to take a break and get some coffee, and or badly made hospital food while I watched you. How you feeling?"

The synthesiser didn't reflect the emotion on his face and sounded downright cheerful as it said "My head hurts... What happened?"

"Someone thought we were an easy mark with half our people away," Jubilee said, eyes going briefly to his shaved head and bruises before meeting his gaze again. "They sent a bunch of assassins, and we proceeded to give them the warm welcome that we're known far and wide for. You need more painkillers? I think they gave you one of those morphine drips with the little clicker."

"I don't want to be groggy. They make it hard to talk because it gets harder to talk." He remembered the frustration of that when they'd checked him over this morning last night whenever it had been. Artie thought about it. Assassins. There was something deeply horrifying about that. But that raised a question. There had been assassins and he was still alive. "They're all dead, aren't they?" Artie paused again before saying "Mangie can't shoot for shit."

"Hmm, just don't over do it because you want to be conscious, sometimes listening to what your body wants is a good idea, yeah?" Jubilee noted, rearranging herself slightly to get more comfortable. She swore that hospitals designed visitor chairs to be especially uncomfortable just to stop people from waiting around. "They've all dead, yes, and guns aren't exactly Marie-Ange's preferred weapon, and besides, don't diss people when you're not exactly a crack shot yourself, dude. So, what exactly are you planning on telling your classmates about all this?"

"I'm good." And then, "I know how to shoot. I'm getting... okaygood at it," after several hours at the Salem Centre range every week since July. "I thought they were dead. Annalee taught me that when people want you dead you either run till they can't ever find you again or you... She'd just run. You guys aren't hiding me, and I could show you their faces so they've got to be dead." She'd taught him it by example, not explicitly. And he was rambling.

He could think, unlike the previous days, but everything was slower today, through the haze of pain. "They're not my classmates," he said, stalling. "I graduated. What am I allowed to say?"

"Okay, dude. I'm gonna give you the benefit of the doubt that you know practicing on a firing range isn't the same as hitting a highly trained human, possibly mutant, target that's spent half their life not being hit," Jubilee replied with a raised eyebrow. She wasn't so much defending Marie-Ange's abilities, the woman could do that well enough herself, as she was trying to get Artie to realise being a smart-mouth wasn't always the best option, you kinda had to know when to pick your moments, something she hadn't quite gotten the hang of herself yet, so she spoke from experience. "And you can talk to the adults as much as you like, they've been informed of what happened. The kids? That depends, I'd avoid telling them too much if you can help it, most of them are still fairly new to this whole life and while we're not exactly secret to the people at the mansion, there's like, no need to freak them the fuck out, yeah?"

Artie didn't nod, mostly because it was going to hurt but he did type, slowly and carefully, "She saved my life." That he wouldn't have been a target if he hadn't stayed the night was another matter, one he was going to think about later. "Don't tell the kids. Can talk to the adults, since they know 'what'. Do they know 'who'?"

"How about I let Marie-Ange tell you all about that?" Jubilee replied, giving her colleague a nod as she entered the room, levering herself out of the chair with her good hand. "I've gotta go make sure they don't need me to fill out any more forms one handed before I leave for the Brownstone anyway. Take care of yourself, yeah?"

"They will know, most likely. They should, since there are still targets at the mansion." Marie-Ange slid into the chair Jubilee had taken up, and then shifted around in the chair several times before finding that no matter how she sat, it was uncomfortable. "The coffee here is just as terrible as I had guessed." She tipped her paper cup in Artie's direction in a odd salute. "You look terrible, how much do you want to know about the attack?"

"Hey," Artie replied, smiling briefly. Smiling hurt. Crap. He gave a tiny one shouldered shrug and continued typing. "J says that assassins attacked b/c half of u were away. didn't say they were watching u but they had 2 b, b/c they knew abt that. whoever they are, they know a lot about u and that means that they might know about the school, too." He considered things for a moment and began to count. He hadn't missed Jubilee's injury. "3 in your aptment. U'd have been fine if I wasn't there. J was also injured so there were at least 4 of them. sent 3 to u. did they do the same w every1 else?" Who the hell could hire at least four assassins? Who else had been home? For that matter, what the hell kind of people even hired assassins?

"I might have been dead if you were not there." Marie-Ange said. "Or I might have been fine. It is impossible to know. They were - oh, you would not have had access to the information, but we think they were the same people who kidnapped Tabitha once. Assassins who theme themselves after snakes, sent by Remy's ex-wife. I have not bothered to read anyone else's reports yet, if anyone made them, so I do not know how many there were."

"Should you be telling me this?" he asked. "I don't work with you, remember?" He wanted to know. Of course he wanted to know who they were but whether or not he should know was another matter.

"And if I did not, and you were out at the grocery with... whoever it is you spend time with, the girl with the squirrel friend, and saw them, what would you be able to tell her if I did not tell you?" Marie-Ange countered. "Should or should not, you need to know who they are, because a handful of them got away." Including the woman who stabbed him, but Marie-Ange was not sure if she wanted to tell Artie that.

Oh. Oh. Artie reached out and touched her hand before signing "Thank you. You know. For everything." To his horror, he felt a tear or two. Maybe she hadn't noticed.

It would probably be rude to tell him she did not think she'd done very much to help. "Everything is probably about to be a bit more training in how to defend yourself, if you are going to continue to work on your powers with me." Marie-Ange said, very softly. "I am afraid that I've made somewhat of a target out of you. Remy's ex-wife is in particular not a fan of me."

"I knew you were fucking spies. I still spent time with you, got lessons. Didn't look at your paperwork. I made a target out of myself. "

"Technically I am fucking a mercenary." Marie-Ange said, with a raised eyebrow. "But I gather your meaning. Shall we call it even then, and when you are healthy we will see if we can do more to find a way for you to be safer? I think if nothing else, Amanda's kitchen would appreciate it. That toaster will never be the same."

"Oh. That would be great. And I'm sorry about the toaster. I'll replace it." Artie yawned, exhausted.

"Get some rest. We can talk about the toaster when you are awake. We can even wait until after your hair has grown back." Marie-Ange said.