9528/Broken Arm, Broken Heart

Broken Arm, Broken Heart
Date of Scene:	10 October 2019
Location:	Wellness Office - Xavier's School
Synopsis:	Some things, even the best healers can't quite fix....
Cast of Characters:	Nightingale, Cannonball, Samuel Morgan, Triage

---

Nightingale has posed:
     Shannon didn't even offer the faintest hint of protest as the medical staff worked on setting her broken arm and ensuring that her dislocated knee were in position to heal properly. She allowed them to do what they had to do, so that nature could take its course and these wounds would heal. And they would heal, for they were hardly even close to life-threatening. But there was mist in her eyes that, when she thought nobody was looking, or perhaps might consider it pain from her wounds, she let spill its banks, to trickle down her face in crystalline rivulets. With strict instructions to keep her activity light for the next day, eat extra protein and calcium to speed healing, and get plenty of rest, she is close to being released from the wellness office.

     But she does not budge. Not yet. Let them make of that what they will.

Cannonball has posed:
Samuel Guthrie comes walking into the office when he got word she was here. He made a quick stop by the kitchen and brings a tray with him. He walks over and sets the tray on one of the tables, and without saying anything just moves in to hug her and give her a soft kiss on the forhead.

Samuel Morgan has posed:
    When Bean brought in Shannon, in a fluster and near panic, he was politely told to leave. It took some time to get him to see reason, but eventually he did go, mind in turmoil. Now Bean is back, a while later, having hovered by the door for a while, and plucking up his courage when he sees Sam enter. With a deep breath, and a book under his arm, in he goes.

Nightingale has posed:
Shannon leans into the hug, hiding her face against her adopted older brother. But her wings droop behind her, and her shoulders shake as she cries silently. She returns the hug as best she can with her good right arm, her left one by now in a sling. At the present moment, it is difficult for her to perceive much beyond the hug.

Seeing that she is not exactly listening at the moment, a medic relays the instructions for her to take it easy for the next day, plus the injunction for extra rest, and increased protein and calcium intake for healing, to Cannonball. However, it's well within Bean's range of hearing also.

Cannonball has posed:
Samuel Guthrie nods his head, and to the nurse, and says "Got that covered at least a bit. He will let her cry then moves to wipe her tears, and says "I brought root beer and ice cream, with lots of chocolate syrup." Sam may not have been there when his sisters were going through this but there have been a few claimed sisters over the year, with the original new mutants. for him to learn a bit with. He does not hollar at her or anythign at least not right now.

Samuel Morgan has posed:
    Bean knows what is being said, not just because he could hear it, but because the same had been told to him not very long ago, after that night where he had promised himself that he wouldn't let Shannon go through this. Exactly this. He feels very much like he did in the rafters, standing there, watching people, close yet apart. Fingers drum against the book. Would now even be a good time?

Nightingale has posed:
Shannon sniffles a little bit, glancing over at the tray. She didn't want to eat, but knew she had to. Her voice is soft, kept low till she can regain some composure. "Thank you, big brother... I'm not in here long, though." She tries to put on a smile for him. It's small, but there....

...and grows wider as she sees Bean, her wings ruffling just a little bit. "Hi..."

Cannonball has posed:
Samuel Guthrie 's looks over and sees Sam. "Gonna be a bit harder to get ya that cane now." He tells the man, and will absently rub Shannon's back if she is sitting up. " Well there is always room for ice cream, and got some mixed nuts will pick out the pecans for ya later."

Samuel Morgan has posed:
    "Hey." It's a soft, near whisper, as Bean approaches, his own expression turning into a soft smile. He says nothing else for a few moments, just standing by Shannon's bedside, smiling, and then looks to Sam. "I tried man. Honestly, I did. Don't be mad at her."

Nightingale has posed:
     "I tried to just let the healing go halfway... but I couldn't stop it. Please don't be mad at Bean." Shannon's protest, her attempt to protect her very dear friend from the wrath of her big brother, tumbles out at just about the same time as Bean trying to cover for her. The mention of ice cream gets her to hush up again, and she nods slightly, her wings drooping a little bit less this time.

Cannonball has posed:
Samuel Guthrie looks to the two and says "Ah aint gonna hollar at either one of you at least not right now, would be like Ah was kicking a puppy. Once your healed up and both have had time to think and reflect then Ah will talk to you, probably seperatly.

Samuel Morgan has posed:
    It would be, of course, pretty typical of the situation that Bean and Shannon protest each other's innocence at exactly the same time. It's delightfully absurd, and Bean just shakes his head with a smile, and then tries to look grave as he nods. "Yes Mister Guthrie."

    Still though, there are things he can say now. And so he will. "I've been thinking about drama class. I know you like to study German, and that you're sometimes confused about me not letting you heal me. So I thought I'd combine two things at once, with this." 'This' turns out to be a book that appears quite old. Very old, in fact. A bookmark has been carefully placed on a certain page, and Bean opens the tome, carefully placing it down on the tray next to the ice cream. I know, philistine... "This was written in 1782, by von Goethe. My father used to read this to me when I was young and couldn't sleep. It's called 'Erlkönig'."

Nightingale has posed:
     Now that had Shannon's attention. It hurt to think, though. Would she be able to understand it? Just how good had her German become in the short time she was studying it? She continues to hold on to Cannonball, but scoots over--albeit a bit painfully--to make room for Bean on the end of the bed. Much to the nurse's protest. "von Goethe... why does that sound familiar...?"

Cannonball has posed:
Samuel Guthrie looks to her and says "Don't ask me, "I know nothing nothing." He says giving his knowledge of german to the kids.

Samuel Morgan has posed:
    That was a pleasant surprise. Bean sits on the edge of the bed, and clarifies. "Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, and that's about as German a name as you're going to ever hear. Father of the Romanticism movement, wrote Faust among other things." He hopes that mentioning that famous work will at least kick start some memories. "Erlkönig isn't a fairy tale as Americans would understand it. It's... let's just say it's very German. My father had this wonderful deep voice, and I can't do it justice, but... let me try." And so, eyes closed, he recites from memory the first two verses.

    Wer reitet so spät durch Nacht und Wind?
    Es ist der Vater mit seinem Kind;
    Er hat den Knaben wohl in dem Arm,
    Er faßt ihn sicher, er hält ihn warm.

    "Mein Sohn, was birgst du so bang dein Gesicht?"
    "Siehst, Vater, du den Erlkönig nicht?
    Den Erlenkönig mit Kron' und Schweif?"
    "Mein Sohn, es ist ein Nebelstreif."

Cannonball has posed:
Samuel Guthrie 's phone beeps, and he looks down at it, and sighs "Ah gotta go handle this. He sighs, and looks to Shannon and says "You need me call, and eat all the ice cream, it has calcium in it, and how often do you get to say the doctors said to eat ice cream? He kisses the top of her head again and is off.

Nightingale has posed:
Shannon frowns a little bit, her mind forced to work to translate as many words of that as she can without aid of her dictionary or laptop. "Something about night and wind... a father and his child... the father keeping his son warm. But I'm not sure about the rest." She looks a little abashed at the admission, and ducks her head slightly. "Guess I need more practice."

She nudges Cannonball and tries to smile a little for him. "Guess this means you have to learn some German now, too." But then his phone beeps and she sighs a little, her wings drooping again and she nods. "Got it. Eat the ice cream." And... he's off."

Samuel Morgan has posed:
    "Doing great so far. Some of this is hard, I didn't get this either when I was younger." And that was, perhaps, all for the best. Bean nods to Older Sam and waves as he leaves, then leans across slightly and puts that waving arm around Shannon's shoulders. Gently. The good thing about someone taking on your injuries? You know exactly how they feel, and what not to do. "Erlkönig is... not an easy poem. It doesn't have a happy ending." Spoilers much? "But this is the stuff I listened to. And I think you'll find it... interesting. There's a lot of translations around if you want to look them up, but most of them butcher the original German to make a better rhyme in English, a lot of the meaning is lost."

Nightingale has posed:
Shannon nods. "Maybe I could try translating it myself. It'd be good practice." She smiles a little bit, leaning into that hug. It felt good to just be held by a friend, and took away some of the sting of the day. "I want to believe in happy endings. Even if it takes a lot to get there. Sometimes it's really hard, though." She makes sure to lean in on her good right side, avoiding putting too much pressure on her left arm and shoulder for the moment. "I like the sound of that in the language, though. Kind of musical, in its own way."

Samuel Morgan has posed:
    "In that case, you'll probably want to listen to Shubert's musical version." Because, of course, there is one. And Bean wouldn't have brought this poem out if it wasn't somehow significant. "Translating it is a good idea. And when you've done that, talk to me or Mister Wagner, and tell us what you think this poem is about. That's the beauty of it... everyone sees something different in it."

Nightingale has posed:
Shannon nods a little bit. "It sounded like... well, a little like a father holding his child in the middle of the night. Protecting him no matter what. Wise and strong. At least, that's with the little I could understand." Probably too simplistic a translation and likely nowhere near the mark, but hey--you never know, right? "What do -you- see in it?"

Samuel Morgan has posed:
    "In the first two verses?" And yes, those are only the first two, of a poem that goes down the page. "I see much the same as you. Someone in distress, someone who needs help, in this case the child. His father is riding with him through the night, and that's no time to be riding a horse, through extremely bad weather. He wants to help his son, so he's holding him tight, holding him warm as the poem says, and trying to shelter him from the world. But his son is afraid, is hiding his face, doesn't want to see. Because he can see the Fairy King, and he's afraid of him. Can the father see? We don't know, he doesn't say. But what he does say is that it's only a patch of fog, trying to offer some kind of rational explanation, to ease his son's fears. In short, trying to hold it together for someone who needs help."

Nightingale has posed:
     Hmmm, okay. So her command of German had been improving more than she thought, beyond the words that would get her a quick, sharp 'Sprache!' from Kurt. "So who's holding it together here, and who's the Fairy King?" She's relaxing a bit more as she's not let go for the moment, the very reason she's aching so also the same thing that can help begin to heal her.

Samuel Morgan has posed:
    "Who is the Fairy King indeed? Let's see if we can figure it out by hearing what they have to say." And here, Bean picks up the book with his other hand and holds it out in front of himself and Shannon, much like he would when reading to a child, keeping the book closer to her than himself. He knows this poem front to back, he doesn't need to read it anymore.

    "Du liebes Kind, komm, geh mit mir!
    Gar schöne Spiele spiel' ich mit dir;
    Manch' bunte Blumen sind an dem Strand,
    Meine Mutter hat manch gülden Gewand."

    "Mein Vater, mein Vater, und hörest du nicht,
    Was Erlenkönig mir leise verspricht?"
    "Sei ruhig, bleibe ruhig, mein Kind;
    In dürren Blättern säuselt der Wind."

Nightingale has posed:
Shannon purses her lips slightly, peering at the page. She traces the words with the fingertips of her good right hand, stopping on words she might know to try and piece together what she can. " 'My dear child, come...' then a few words I'm not sure of. Something about... colorful flowers on the beach? And 'my mother has many...' I think that's 'gilded' there... but I'm not sure of that last word without looking it up."

She seems content for the moment to force herself to concentrate on something else, even though her heart hurt worse than she could ever remember; how come each heartache was stronger than the last? " 'My father, my father, do you hear in the night...' Then something about promises... and I'm guessing "Erlenkonig' is the 'Fairy King'? The child wonders why the father can't hear the same things he does, and it's getting harder for him to ignore the Fairy King."

Samuel Morgan has posed:
    Bean beams a smile, nodding encouragingly and doesn't interrupt Shannon until she has offered her entire analysis of this part of the poem. "Mostly all correct. Except 'nicht' means 'not', as in 'can you not hear?'. Night would be 'Nächte'. Remember that, in German, all nouns are capitalized." There, grammar lesson complete for now, surely? Now it's his time to offer analysis.

    "You can hear the Fairy King asking the child to come with him, to entice him away from the father, willingly. He promises to play games, that there's plenty of colorful flowers on the beach, that his mother has many gilded, or golden, clothes. Is that important? We don't know anything about either the child or the father? Are they rich? The father does own a horse and knows how to ride it, ride it well enough to keep a hold of his son and keep the horse going through a dark windy night. And then the child cries out, can his father not hear these promises? These whispered promises? No, says the father, although again we don't know if he can hear them or not. Only that he again offers this stark, rational explanation. It's just the wind rustling through the trees... or, as von Goethe put it, through the dead leaves."

Nightingale has posed:
Shannon is resting for the moment in one of the beds, her left arm in a sling, and leaning a little bit against Bean, on her right side, definitely showing some favor to her left leg. Her eyes are red and puffy, her wings are drooping, but she's trying to focus on something else. By the sound of it, that something else is the study of the German language. A dish of ice cream drenched in chocolate syrup is on one of the rolling tables near her bed, and while she nibbles on it from time to time, isn't seeming to relish it as much as she usually would. But she eats it dutifully. "Sometimes, all the rationalization in the world doesn't help things make sense," she muses.

Samuel Morgan has posed:
    "That's why I always believe that what von Goethe is describing is a hallucination brought on by fever. Why else would someone be galloping with their child throughout the night?" Bean is leaning against Shannon, his left arm around her shoulders, while holding out an old book in front of them with his right, reading to her. "It goes on."

    "Willst, feiner Knabe, du mit mir gehn?
    Meine Töchter sollen dich warten schön;
    Meine Töchter führen den nächtlichen Reihn,
    Und wiegen und tanzen und singen dich ein."

    "Mein Vater, mein Vater, und siehst du nicht dort
    Erlkönigs Töchter am düstern Ort?"
    "Mein Sohn, mein Sohn, ich seh' es genau:
    Es scheinen die alten Weiden so grau."

Triage has posed:
Familiar voices and footsteps grow louder as two people approach the door. "Yeah. I understand," Chris says. "With those Sentinels on the loose and all kinds of other mischief, people get hurt. Still ..." He pauses. "It's dangerous for everyone, even for people like you who chose to support what someone else decided is the 'wrong side.' Take a break. I'll have a look." Then the door opens and Chris steps into the office. He cocks his head and waves. "I hear that someone found more trouble."

Nightingale has posed:
Shannon opens her mouth as if to translate the next two stanzas of the poem--or at least fumble through the attempt--only to be brought to a halt in her efforts by a voice she hadn't heard for a while. "Chris? Hi..." Her voice has a little bit more life to it, but not by too much. "Bean here got hurt. You can pretty much guess the rest." WHere there would normally be a sheepish smile, it's somewhat faint, and her eyes are red and puffy as if she'd been crying fairly recently.

Samuel Morgan has posed:
    The book comes down when Triage comes in. Bean would offer an explanation of his own, but it would just take longer, so he just nods. "Pretty much that. Nothing serious, just got run over by a car."

Triage has posed:
Triage veers to one side to drop a sturdy canvas satchel into an empty chair. His eyebrows twitch at Bean. "A car?" He echos. "I'd call that serious unless it was a kid's toy. I came as soon as I could after I got an emergency message." He nods toward the door. Then he looks at Shannon and sighs. "Let me guess. You traded places with him?" Glancing back to Bean, he suggests, "Next time, ask for a paper cut instead. Okay?"

Nightingale has posed:
     "Hey, Bean's got a pretty tough bean, so when he got beaned, he knew there'd bean no trouble." For a moment, there's life in Shannon's voice, a hint of humor, but then it fades again. "It's... complicated. But yeah, I traded places. And... who called for you? Both Sam's and I were in here."

Samuel Morgan has posed:
    "I understand." Bean nods, slowly. "Next time HYDRA comes calling, I'll ask them to just bap me over the head with a rolled up newspaper or something." There's no malice in the statement, and it's delivered in an even voice, but he clearly wants Triage to know that this was no simple accident. "And asking Shannon not to help someone that's clearly hurt is like asking the tides not to rise."

Triage has posed:
Triage hitches his thumb over his shoulder toward the door. "You know our overly protective medical staff," he answers Shannon. He steps closer. "He has a hard head. I'll agree to that," he adds, nodding to Bean. "We'll just say that he's been through a thing or twenty." The mention of Hydra brings a dark frown to his face and his tone shifts from joking to gentleness. "What did they want with you? Do you know? I'm sure that our mentors gave you the third degree over it." He looks back to Shannon. "You should feel flattered that they called. They want you back on your feet." He glances to Bean and then adds, "They're not the only ones, but I don't want to interrupt your lesson." He waves to the book. "So, when you're ready, I'm here for you."

Nightingale has posed:
     "Or they're just sick and tired of seeing me in here or the medbay," Shannon muses. "Can't blame 'em. Either that or they don't want to see Logan roaring like a hurricane again." Yeah, that's definitely not something that most can handle easily. She settles back to let Bean tell the tale of his encounter with HYDRA, the German lesson forgotten for the moment.

Samuel Morgan has posed:
    He'd already said too much as it is, Bean seems very reluctant to offer any more details. "Let's just say that they have a score to settle with me, and yesterday they tried to do it. They just hadn't counted on the Hulk being around." And here he brightens up a bit, glad to be able to give details that he hasn't actually shared before, that don't involve his relationship with an organisation of pure unadulterated evil. "Let me tell you, seeing him bend that car around one of the guys who wanted to grab me? Pretty spectacular."

Triage has posed:
Triage turns his attention to Sam's tale. He grins. "I've not seen him in person, but if half of what I've heard is true, I'd not want to be on his bad side. If he saved you, I'm glad. Now that those guys know that you have friends like The Hulk, they might stay away. I know that the whole thing about escorts is a pain, but craziness seems to be the new fall fashion. All of us need to watch each other's backs."

Nightingale has posed:
     "Wouldn't want to piss him off," Shannon agrees, "But he was surprisingly gentle when he got curious about my wings. Didn't mind him so much, really. It turned into an impromptu snack al fresco in the end." There's the faintest hint of amusement in the girl's voice, but it's gone again just as quickly; perhaps it was an illusion?

Samuel Morgan has posed:
    "I think the younger kids got a lot of pictures out of that. He even posed with a few of them." Bean smiles as well at the memory, although by that time he was getting his arm straightened out and wasn't smiling that much. "He's a lot smarter than people think. Angry, very angry, but not mindless. I don't think they'll try the car trick again. It's very obvious, I'm wise to it now, and it clearly doesn't work."

Triage has posed:
"Anger can be a powerful trigger," Triage mentions with a nod. "This place has helped more than one person with that dangerous emotions. It's a shame that such help doesn't work for everyone." He eyes Shannon's sling. "I don't think that it's a good idea for you to go back to class tomorrow with that thing, especially if they plan to run you through the DR."

Nightingale has posed:
Shannon rolls her eyes a little bit. "I'm less worried about the DR and more worried about a concerned or annoyed Logan." It had been a little while since she'd been through the DR, but apparently perhaps that was in the offing, and soon. She tries to joke a little bit for both their sake, though her voice isn't quite in it. "So... ummmm, how many pizzas is this one gonna cost?"

Samuel Morgan has posed:
    "Doesn't stop you from leading a mission from a control room." Bean offers, reminding Shannon that Cannonball had threatened to make them all do just that. Or something like that anyway. But, just like her, he has to joke now, to keep the mood light. "I think a broken finger is a cookie, falling down the stairs is a muffin, getting knocked down by a bike is a pizza, a car is a whole cake with all the trimmings, and a semi is close to a whole banquet. That about right, oh doctor?"

Triage has posed:
"Running the missions is hard work," Triage smirks. "Throwing those switches and pressing those buttons at just the right time." Then he shrugs at Shannon's question. "I won't know until I have a look, but I'm sure that you have a fair idea already," he answers. Then he grins at Bean's guess. "I'm not a doctor yet, but it's something like that. I had enough warning to empty a string of restaurants along the way but after this, I'll need a refill." Then he glances to Shannon and offers, "What do you think about a trip into town for pizza after class tomorrow?"

Nightingale has posed:
Shannon nods slowly, wincing at the movement. "Will one pizza be enough to take care of a broken arm, dislocated knee, broken ribs, and concussion?" She tries to smile for them both, seeming to think about this for a moment. "Or would I still owe you a cake too? If so, what kind? Or is that a full steak dinner with all the trimmings?" She knew full well that his abilities required fuel, and was offering what options she could think of in the moment. Her ice cream, though, was only half-eaten, and mostly melted into a brown and white slurry swirling in the bottom of the dish.

Samuel Morgan has posed:
    "In my defense, it was a pretty big car going pretty fast." Very carefully, Bean holds Shannon a bit tighter. He doesn't know if Triage's healing is going to hurt, but doesn't want to take any chances.

Triage has posed:
"We'll settle the bill tomorrow," Triage answers. "The trip is for the two of you as much as it is for me - a chance to break the routine for a while after something like this. I'm sure that all of us need some time to relax if we can get it. But that's up to you." He notices Sam's protective hug and smiles. "It shouldn't hurt," he assures. "In fact, she'll probably be relieved once her body doesn't need to fight the pain. Remember how it felt for you?"

Nightingale has posed:
Shannon gingerly touches Bean's arm with her good right hand, and attempts to offer a reassuring smile. "This isn't the first time Chris has healed me and it's probably not going to be the last. It doesn't hurt like you think it would. No more than it hurt you when I took this on. And even if it did... it'd still be worth it." Her smile is a little more gentle, a little more genuine, and she glances back at Triage. "True friends are rare. I'm incredibly lucky to have Bean here as one."

Samuel Morgan has posed:
    "I don't actually remember." Bean admits. But then he wasn't awake again for nearly 24 hours after the fact. His hand comes to rest over hers, and he gives her a friendly smile. "Well, I'll still be right here, just in case."

Triage has posed:
"You can't buy good friendships or trust." Triage nods. "She might need to sleep longer than usual but shouldn't have any pain. Healing your head was a bit more ... intense for me because it involved nerves but I don't recall any signs of pain from the sensors. With Ms. Pryde ..." He shakes his head. "That one was ... unusual." While he talks, he moves to Shannon's other side. Taking a few deep breaths, he lays his hand on her shoulder and closes his eyes. His breathing continues at a slow, steady rhythm. The energy flows, spreading warmth and healing into the injuries. After several minutes, beads of perspiration glisten on his forehead and hands, but his respiration remains slow. Finally, he opens his eyes and looks at Shannon and then Sam. He nod and exhales. He steps back from the bed, unsteady for a moment and then stable again.

Nightingale has posed:
Shannon closes her eyes for few minutes as the healing begins. It's no more than the warmth of a good, long bath followed by being wrapped up in a warm quilt and downing a cup of hot soup--but that warmth seeps through every pore, every bone, every nerve ending in her body. It particularly concentrates on the wounded areas, easing away the pain of broken bones, stretched ligaments, and damaged nerves. She relaxes bit by bit as the pain fades with a whisper into the aether. There's a ghost of a smile as she can move without every inch of her screaming in protest.

"Thank you," she whispers. But her brows furrow with concern as she opens her eyes to glance at Triage. "By the looks of it... I'd say a full turkey dinner with all the trimmings."

Samuel Morgan has posed:
    Throughout it all, Bean holds Shannon closely to his side, aware of the promise he made her just hours before. He sits with her, waiting, watching, letting the pain disappear and smiling when she seems to feel perfectly fine at the end. He gives Triage a grateful nod. "Thank you. If I'm allowed out at all tomorrow, whatever you choose to eat is on me."

    And so, done with the pleasantries, he beams a smile at Shannon... and snaps the book closed in his right hand, handing it to her. "Erlkönig, translated by tomorrow, with your thoughts on the meaning. No wrong answers, but put some thought into it." Yup, he's taking this seriously. With that, he gives her one more squeeze and then slides off the side of the bed. "If you will all excuse me, if I want to get any sleep before our 6 o'clock morning run, I need to turn in. Good night."

    It's not a march out of the room, there's no stiffness or formality in his posture or gait. Bean just strolls out like any normal teenager. For him, that's practically unprecedented.

Nightingale has posed:
Shannon sighs softly as Bean has to leave to get some rest, knowing she should as well. There was going to be no getting out of that 6 a.m. run, especially now. "Looks like that one really took it out of you... will you at least let me make you a turkey sandwich to take the edge off? I still can't believe they called you out here for this, it was hardly worth bothering you for." She's pretty floored they did that, and smiles just a little bit.

"It's a shame he and I can't be more than friends," she murmurs. "But... good friends are rare, and there's one of the best ones right there. Present company excepted."

Triage has posed:
Triage steps back and chuckles when Bean issues the assignment to Shannon, almost like a stern school-master from an old film. "A sandwich would be wonderful," he answer, grinning. "As for the call, it wasn't a bother. Trust me. It was worth the trip to help you. I'm sure that you feel the same way when you can heal someone. I'm glad that they called. You've pulled more than your weight around here." He goes to the chair to grab his bag. "I'm serious about that invitation, too, if you can escape. Dinner without a food fight is not an opportunity to miss lightly."

Nightingale has posed:
Shannon slides out of the bed with a smile of gratitude to the nurse, gingerly testing her weight on her right leg. Yep. Triage had indeed worked his magic yet again. She's careful to stand, giving herself a few moments to adjust to being vertical, though her wings continue to droop behind her. She runs her fingers through her hair, and lets out something of a sigh. "Didn't think I did all that much. There's still so much more that could be done. But I can't do it alone. And sometimes... it feels like I am." She shakes her head a little bit. "He might've been roaring like a hurricane, but Logan was right. I'm gonna burn myself out if I don't watch it. But most of the time, it feels like working alone... no slight intended to the medical staff here. Not that I mind... but everyone's got limits."

Triage has posed:
"I've thought more than once about that, about you helping here," Triage admits to Shannon. "Our methods aren't 'normal' but we're needed here more than elsewhere. I wouldn't mind staying here. It's worth some thought." He peers at the tops of her wings and asks, "Did you hurt your wings?"

Nightingale has posed:
Shannon shakes her head, turning her back to Triage and extending her wings to their full span without difficulty. "You can check if you want, but they weren't injured that I know of. Don't think you can fix a broken heart, though." She holds still so he can check her wings if he wants.

Triage has posed:
Triage sets his bag in the chair again and steps toward Shannon. He touches her wings gently with his fingertips. "I don't think that either of us can cure a broken heart, at least not through our gifts," he admits. "I'm sorry for that. If I could, I would, without a second thought. You deserve that. If I can help in some way, I hope that you'll tell me."

Nightingale has posed:
Shannon smiles a little bit. "Twice in a row, I've really cared about guys who just couldn't see anything romantic happening, for various reasons. Okay, so they're still in my life and still very, very precious to me... but it doesn't make this one hurt any less." She leaves her wings spread open for a minute or two longer, till he can see for himself that they're uninjured, tucking them back in behind her as she prepares to head to the kitchen. "So... what's been keeping you busy? Sure hope you didn't interrupt anything for something as silly as this."

Triage has posed:
"I was in Chicago," Chris explains. "They found another of those offshore 'fatbergs' in the lake. This one seemed different from past specimens, so my biology professor asked some of us to get some samples. We had finished and packing for the return trip when I got the call." He grabs his bag on his way through the door, following Shannon. "As I said, this wasn't something silly, not to me at least. I know that you've managed to recover from everything that you've hit so far, but I worried. I was glad to come back and I'm glad that you're okay, at least physically."

Nightingale has posed:
     "The heck... you made the run from Chicago for something like this?" Chris gets a surprisingly strong hug from Shannon; the strength training seems to have been doing some good. "That's... wow. Thank you." Relief seems to war with dread in her voice and face for a moment, as she makes her way to the kitchen. "Sounds like we've got some catching up to do."