Hank, Scott, Tuesday evening

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With all the wounded more or less settled in the Medlab, Hank steps out to catch his breath and lean against a friendly wall for a minute. Scott encounters him, and they talk a little about what happened. Hank explains why he couldn't land the Blackbird, and they reassure each other that everything's more or less under control. Hank also suggests a means of explaining the big glassy crater to the general public.



Hank leaned against the cool wall, taking a deep breath and letting his eyes shut. He was so tired... He had to hold on a bit longer, though. Everyone was almost settled, Moira was on the job - having had some sleep, even - and if Madelyn could get another couple of hours of sleep, he could then leave the Medlab in hers and Moira's capable hands while he crashed himself. Better to have two doctors at all times. But things were more or less under control, and he was fairly sure everyone was at least out of immediate danger, even the healer, so he could pause for breath.

Twinkies. Twinkies sounded good right now. Sugar boost to help get him through....

Scott shook his head as he came around the corner and saw Hank slumped against the wall outside medlab. "'Healer, heal thyself?'" he quoted, striding down the hall and immediately moving to support Hank before he wound up in a crumpled blue heap on the floor. "Oof. You need to lay off the twinkies, old man..."

"I do not. They're my little spongy yellow rock of reliability in a heartless world," Hank said, giving him a weary smile. "I think all the patients are going to be all right, thank God. I was worried for a while there."

"You certainly brought back enough of them. Making up for a quiet six weeks or so, were we?" Scott gave him an assessing note, seeing the bandages, adding that to his general state of exhaustion. "You took a few hits out there yourself."

"Nothing serious. Minor cuts and abrasions." He smiled. "Only one stitch. One of the benefits of being so large... there's quite a long way to go inwards before anything really serious gets cut. Still, I did reassure myself that I remember how this fighting thing is done."

"I'm gathering there was enough fighting to go around," Scott said seriously, helping Hank straighten. "I checked on our Mr. MacInnis, who told me that there were probably a dozen Mistra first-gens out there."

Hank nodded. "One, at least had... a moment of weakness in his conditioning," he said slowly. "He wanted me to stop him, managed to ask me to do so. For the children's sake, I think." He smiled a little. "Which I did, and he won't thank me for what I did to his shoulders, but I hope, at least, that it meant that nobody would suspect him of allowing me a shot."

"You're not the only one who saw that in their opponents," Scott said quietly. "I talked to a couple of the others. Gives me some hope, I have to say. In the end, they're victims, as much as those kids are."

Hank nodded. "I rather suspect that it didn't occur to the Mistra folks, early on, to take personalities into account," he said thoughtfully. "Since they planned to obliterate them. And then they found that.... as with Nathan, for example... a personality is a very difficult thing to alter or destroy. It reasserts itself, no matter what gets laid down over the top of it, like grass coming up through concrete..."

"We'll make sure we take that into account," Scott said steadily. The operatives needed saving, as well, even if it was twenty-five years past the optimum time for that, for most of them. "Now. Are you going to let me take you back inside to find someplace to sit, you decrepit old man, you, or were you aiming for the floor?"

"I'm fine. I'm just taking a little non-smoking break." Hank shook his head. "Did you come down just to tell me to sit down? Because I'm trying to hold on for at least a few more hours so Madelyn can get some sleep before taking over."

"No, I was wanting an update, too. How is everyone?"

Hank took a deep breath. "The children have been put to bed to sleep off the shock and the drugs under careful observation. No worse injuries than a broken leg, although a lot of bruises and scrapes. Among the adults, the worst injuries were a fractured skull and a major set of burns.... they're both resting reasonably comfortably now. Haroun, who I would describe as having been generally pounded out flat and lightly charbroiled, is unconscious but will be fine. Two of the adults, Bourne and Malcolm, are sedated... Bourne has a badly broken arm and a collection of other injuries, Malcolm has two badly broken legs, and they're both drained to exhaustion. Rest and quiet will do them the most good right now. Ditto for Nathan and Morgan... they drained themselves almost totally. They're both on drips to replenish their energy, while they sleep it off. Alison and Kurt have been released on their own recognizance, since they're not badly hurt and we ran out of beds." He paused. "I think that's everyone..."

Scott nodded. "MacInnis says he'll have transport for his people here in the morning, if they're all stable enough to be moved." He smiled very faintly. "I do get the sense that he's grateful, but he's certainly not letting on. The Professor's keeping a close eye on him, too."

"As long as he doesn't need stitching, patching, blood-transfusion or round-the-clock-monitoring, the professor is welcome to him." Hank nodded. "And as for them being moved... it'll depend on what kind of transport he's providing, and whether there'll be a doctor there to monitor them."

"I believe he said something about a fully equipped medical helicopter," Scott said with another faint smile. "His people... did you know they're ex-operatives?"

"I suspected." Hank nodded. "And yes, an actual medical transport should be safe enough... although Gibbs, the fractured skull case, will have to be handled very carefully. Quiet, rest, and no sudden strains such as drastic changes in temperature..." He broke off, shaking his head and smiling ruefully. "Which I should tell them, not you, sorry. It was quite the trip, getting home. There wasn't much we could do for her until we got back here, and had to watch her every moment in case of shock or complications."

"That would have been why you didn't land my plane?" Scott said with a smile that made it clear he was only teasing.

Hank smiled ruefully. "I'm very fond of her myself, you know, I've known her since she was a young thing... but yes, that's why. Nathan collapsed before we got back, and between him, the other wounded, and Gibbs getting worse just before we landed, neither Madelyn nor I dared to leave for a moment. Literally." He grinned a little. "I nearly trampled Alison in my desperate rush for the bathroom when it was finally safe to leave for a minute."

"Well, Haroun got her down without a scratch, although he gave me a couple of nervous moments there, I tell you. I was half-afraid we'd be looking at a repeat of that bad landing from August, and we didn't have anyone on hand to catch her this time."

Hank nodded. "He had me worried too," he admitted. "But he said he could handle it, and I didn't really have a lot of choice. We could both land the plane, but only I could handle a medical emergency."

Scott patted Hank on the shoulder. "You didn't have any alternative. And he landed the plane just fine." He sighed, shaking his head a bit quizzically. "You know, there's a news item making the rounds tonight about the astronauts on the space station seeing a flash of light in northern Canada?"

"And I imagine they'll find the crater and so on with great ease." Hank grinned with some amusement. "I think I'll alert one or two of my... ah... more credulous colleagues to the possibility of a bona-fide alien landing site. It'll make them happy, and hopefully deflect attention from the idea of mutants as perpetrators."

"We need to talk to Nathan about blowing holes in the world. Very tacky, don't you think?"

"Definitely. The big gestures do so easily cross the line from dramatic into tasteless display, don't they?"

Scott cracked his first real smile in hours. "I should go," he said. "Need to check back in with Charles. He was about ready to have a long talk with MacInnis' telepath when I left. Offered him tea. The kid looked suitably terrified."

"Oh, dear." Hank smiled. "Before you go, do you think you could do me one small favour?" He smiled tiredly. "Tell Madelyn to go to sleep? She's resistant to the idea, but I can stay awake for longer than she can. And I want her rested for when I have to pass out. Moira can't handle all this on her own, there's just too many people in there."

"I'll try, but I make no promises," Scott said with a soft chuckle, patting Hank on the shoulder. "Do what you've got to do, but try not to fall over unconscious in your tracks. I think we've had sufficient drama today already."

"Do I ever? I'm going to go find some Red Bull. And I'm going to put sugar cubes in it." Hank grinned a little. "Sugar. Stuff of life."

Scott shook his head. "I'll have people standing by to pick you up when you crash," he said wryly, starting to turn, but then hesitating. "Hank?" He waited until Hank looked up at him again questioningly. "Good job today."

"Thank you." Hank smiled. "It's good to know I've still got it."