Breaking and Entering with Intent to Heal

Galen took the stairs two at a time, but it was still a few minutes past midnight by the time he pulled open the door to the third floor. He paused for a moment to sweep red-rimmed eyes over the hallway he found himself in, absentmindedly running a hand through his hair in a futile attempt to keep it out of his eyes. In the dark he looked like something like a ghost, white hair and face a stark relief from the dull blacks and blues of his shirt and jeans. He hadn't bothered putting on a hat, and long white hair framed his face, curling delicately at the ends and providing an unsettling contrast to the macabre scars etched across his skin. He scrubbed his face with gloved hands, trying to figure out what kind of person sets up secret meetings at midnight. It's not like he wasn't already up, but it was still rather inconvenient. He could at least be trying to sleep right now. Or maybe he was just still annoyed at Alex - someone he barely knew - for immediately offering his services to some random student and assuming he'd go along with it. He'd told her the risks inherent in using his powers, and it seemed to him that she'd ignored him and turned around and promised legs to the first paraplegic she saw. He'd considered not coming, but in the end, as always, guilt won out. A few hours or days of inconvenience for him was always better then a lifetime of it for someone else, although he found it hard to remember when he didn't even know the person he was supposed to heal.

He didn't have to search for the meeting place - a bright light shown from the open doorway of one of the rooms down the hall. He picked up the doorknob lying twisted and broken in the middle of the hall, laughing shortly as he noticed the gaping hole in the door of 309 where it used to be. He walked into the room, shading his eyes against the sudden light.
"So, this constitutes breaking and entering, right?" He held up the doorknob, dropping it lightly on the desk beside Alex, and attempted to close the door. It swung open again, but by then his eyes had adjusted enough that he had turned his attention to the room, and he didn't seem to notice. "Should have held this thing in my dorm room. That way there would be a bed nearby for when I finish." He didn't look at Alex, and it wasn't clear if he was talking to her or himself. He finished his inspection and grabbed the chair from behind the teacher's desk, flipping it around and straddling it backwards so his wings didn't get crushed.
"He's not here yet, then?" he asked rhetorically, resting his chin on arms crossed over the back of the chair. "He'd better know I'm not definitely going to be able to heal him." He shot a glance at Alex, still a little grumpy.

Cole smiled as he wheeled himself into the elevator, punching the button with a finger. He was in a mood unlike anything he'd felt for so long, such hope had never been in the vicinity of this particular young man, who'd never had much to hope for. As the numbers above lit up, he sighed, bored already. The elevator was much too slow for his liking at a time like this.

When the doors opened, Cole sped down the hall, his left wheel giving a squeak every so often. Ignoring the noise, he took pleasure in the fact that he would most likely not need it again. Alex, possibly his only friend yet, the only one who knew his secret at least, had helped this happen, gave him this chance.

Cole scolded himself quietly for softening up, finding room 309 fairly easily. After all, it was the only one with the doorknob torn off. A liquid crystal-like tendril crept through the hole left, curving and pulling the door open.

“You know, I bet it would've been easier to just unscrew the thing. Maybe unlock it from this side?” He allowed himself a small laugh. Wheeling into the room, he stopped near Alex, face becoming harder, less joyful. James was here as well.

Looking at alex, he cocked an eyebrow. "I'm going to hope you put in a good word and told him how easy it would be." He spun his way over to james, holding out a semi-firm hand. "Cole Solman." He said, nodding.

"Oh. It's only vandalism. That's a relief." He yawned widely, lifeless eyes trained on the doorway. When was the guy going to be here? He wanted to get the whole thing over with as soon as possible, whether or not it badly for him.

Galen didn't respond to her explanation, but his shoulders relaxed minutely. Finally, after a few minutes of silence, he sighed, rubbing his hands over his face. "I get it. You were in a bad situation; I can appreciate that." At least she hadn't been the one to bring up the topic. He was still irritated - didn't she know any other healers? - but the feeling was beginning to subside. "At least I'll finally get some sleep," He muttered into crossed arms. He always slept like the dead after healing someone; it was a tiny silver lining to the affair. "If I pass out or something, you're responsible." He hated the thought of being in the care of someone else while unconscious, even for a few minutes, but if he had to be, he didn't think Alex would do anything to harm him.

He shook the boy's hand, replying "Galen," perhaps a little more shortly then he should have. His gloves could only filter so much, and when he took his hand away the muscles in his arm stung and twitched. "What makes you think it'll be easy?" He was staring intently at Cole, trying to assess the damage without actually touching him. "How long have you been" - he waved a hand in the direction of the boy's wheelchair - "like this? Were you ever able to walk? Is the spine, the legs, or the brain? Am I going to have to heal atrophied muscles as well?" He crossed his arms again, studying the boy with vague interest. "Forgive the questions - I like to be prepared." He shot Cole a quick smile, lifeless eyes reflecting nothing of the expression.

Cole smiled as the man shook his hand, if only for a brief moment. Cole preferred to not ask help from others at all, and Galen apparently would rather not help him. Cole understood perfectly fine. He was something of an annoyance for now, feeling like some parasitic form leeching off others to support his own needs. The pitiful looks he got from others were unbearable, if he were forced to take them any longer he may decide to make those smiles of pity into open-mouthed horror.

Smiling at the rush of questions—they both wanted this done quickly—Cole decided to reply in kind. “six months, yes, spine, and no.” He smiled weakly. “I want this over as much as you do.” He said with an emotionless chuckle.

”what do you want me to do?” Cole asked wearily, pushing himself over to the edge of his seat, ready to lift himself into a chair.

He grinned at the short, concise answers, rough demeanor softening slightly. "That's not bad. Better then what I was expecting, anyway," he mumbled in a vague attempt at politeness. "No debris, bits of car or bullets in there? I don't have any magical cures for stuff like that. Is it complete paralysis? Can you feel-" he reached over and poked Cole lightly near the knee "-that?"

He stood up abruptly, spinning the chair so that it faced Cole. "Sit backwards on that." A pause. "Please." Another pause, as he reminded himself that Cole wasn't any happier about the whole thing then he was. "It goes faster if I can get directly at the injury," He explained, hands in pockets, making no effort to help him. He knew that he didn't need any help, and Cole seemed like the angry independent type rather then the weepy helpless type. "And you're going to need to pull up your shirt or something. It has to be direct contact." Galen told him absentmindedly, attention occupied with trying to calculate how much energy it would take to heal the boy. It would be fairly easy, all things considered; nothing he hadn't done before. Still, he hadn't used his power in months, and he didn't know if it would make his regeneration faster or slower - he might be fine by tomorrow, or he might be stuck wearing masks and feeling too weak to stand for days.

Cole nodded at Galen, pushing himself up and transferring to the chair. He leaned on the chair's back for support, feeling comfortable with the sturdy chair pressing against his chest. He lifted his shirt to about mid-rib, showing the lower half of his back. The spine poked at the skin a little, not so much as to seem unhealthy. Cole recalled a brief location of where the damage was.

“Sorry I don't know much, but I do know the lesion is around mid-lumbar.” He recalled, a sincere apology in his tone, as slight as it was. Galen was trying to help him, return him to who he was. Cole bit his lip and lowered his head, watching Alex out of the corner of his eye.

He was running things through his head, he was being given too much time. Would it hurt? Would he know what had happened? Would he be awake, or sleep? So many questions in too much time.

Galen watched Alex work, transfixed. At least she was prepared... He was about to go and help her when he noticed the defibrillator in her arms, half covered by a pile of bandages. His eyebrows shot up, and the doubt that had been ebbing suddenly returned in full force. What, exactly, was she planning on doing if something went wrong? He watched her silently as she slipped new batteries into the device, finally interjecting nervously: "If that's for me? Don't take anything while I'm healing too seriously." He fiddled with the buttons fastening his thin leather gloves, all too conscious of the fact that he'd soon have to take them off. "Apparently I can look a bit... strange, but as long as I'm touching him, we'll both be fine. If I don't snap out of it, though..." He stopped himself, unable to believe he was really asking her to shock him. Did she even know how to use those things?

Cole spoke, and Galen noticed again how nervous the guy was, biting his lip and hiding under his hair. He felt vaguely guilty, as if it was his fault; for a moment he considered taking time to explain better, let the other boy know exactly what was going to happen. But he was still a bit irritated at both of them for dragging him into this mess, and his only outward display of concern was the affected breeziness in his voice as he called "Ready to get this over with?", pulling off his gloves and laying them carefully on the edge of the teacher's desk. He cracked his knuckles, pulled up another chair and sat down behind Cole, surveying the boy's back hesitantly. He did not want to do this, but he didn't seem to have any choice.

"Mid-lumbar, right?" He muttered, elbows on knees, studying Cole's back intently. He sighed suddenly, and, knowing he was unable to put it off any longer, lightly touched two impossibly white fingers experimentally to a thin scar a few inches below the boy's ribs. There was a faint crackle, a tremor went up his arm, and his fingers instantly flew to the small of Cole's back. The room melted away around him, his eyes loosing their lifelessness and focusing sharply on something unseen.

The fractured vertebrae reassembled under his watchful gaze, spinal cord gradually swelling back to its natural shape. He was faintly aware of an overwhelming feeling of exhaustion sweeping over his body, but Cole's spinal nerves were beginning to knit together, and it was easy to push the thought aside. When he had finished with the spine, he held on against his better judgment as his concentration shifted uncontrollably to the legs, allowing his power to relieve the stiffness in the muscles there. Despite his mood, he had a rare desire for the boy to immediately be able to walk.

When his power moved on to the scars on Cole's back, he finally allowed his mind to withdraw into his lifeless body, hand falling limply from the boy's back. He felt like he'd been away for hours, but experience told him it hadn't been more then ten minutes. He instinctively doubled over, gasping raggedly for breath, his eyes slowly going cloudy again. The first few minutes were always the worst, when everything started working again and he was stuck inside making up for lost time. He curled himself inward against the aching pain that shot through his veins and tried to catch his breath, everything else momentarily forgotten.