(A continuation of Shhh! Be Vewwy Quiet. I'm Hwunting Dwemons .)

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The events following Gina's slipping into unconsciousness passed in little more than a blur-- as if someone had taken the scenes that had unfolded, given her momentary glimpses of time, punctuated by stretches of unconsciousness, and smeared them together with their thumb. It was little more than a melt of semi-conscious observations, most of which seemed fixated on light and sound. One moment, she was surrendering to unconsciousness in the arms of gun-toting passer-by—

The next, she was in the yellow-fluorescent glow of the back of an ambulance, EMT’s humming about her and talking amongst themselves in garbled, urgent tongue. The roar of the diesel, the wail of the sirens drowned them out. They were cutting Gina free of her coat, unfastening her blood-soaked scarf (which had been her makeshift bandage). One busied themselves with fastening a new bandage on, trying to stop the bleeding, while another was shining a flashlight in her eyes, checking for shock. They hit a bump in the road, which jarred Gina painfully, and she grit her teeth, closing her eyes against the dizziness as her world began to reel around her—

When she opened her eyes again, after what seemed like an instance to her, Gina couldn’t hear the ambulance’s thunderous roar any longer. Square, ceiling lights flicked by, and for a bleary moment, Gina wondered how it was that the ceiling was rolling past, while she was lying still. Or perhaps she was moving? That revelation made her turn her head, giving a shallow sigh. She was on a gurney, being heralded into the emergency room by a throng of men and women in scrubs. They were still talking at her, still trying to stop the bleeding, still making sure that she wasn’t dead yet.

This can’t be how it ends.

She closed her eyes again, and when Gina opened them, the square, ceiling lights were no longer flicking by. Instead, a solid lamp glared down at her, and the silhouettes of surgeons bent over her. There was a moment of blind terror and a whimper of complaint as they fastened the a mask over her nose and mouth. She didn’t know these people—what were they going to do to her?! The darkness was creeping in again, and she fought it. She fought the anesthesia and, as she did, she heard the first coherent phrase that she’d heard since passing out in her rescuers' arms.

“Stay with us, Gina. Everything will be alright.”

Gina glanced about blearily for the speaker, but she couldn't tell whose mouth was whose, with the surgical masks. Everything was going to be alright. With that reassurance, Gina finally surrendered to the anesthesia, and was plunged into darkness.

Am I dead?

That wasn’t exactly your typical waking thought, but after a night like Gina’s, it wasn’t any surprise that that question was the first question that arose in her mind. She couldn’t remember what had happened, at first, but she knew that she shouldn’t have been alive. Her mind stuttered into wakefulness before her corporeal body, thus Gina awoke in a black, drug-induced nothingness. She neither felt, nor saw, nor heard anything. To test to see if she was still alive, Gina’s first instinct was to try moving—a dead person wouldn’t be able to move, would they?

She tried to lift her arm, though in a moment of forgetfulness, tweaked her injured arm, and was met by a flower of red pain. She was definitely not dead. The pain had managed to cut through the medicated haze, and jump-started her other senses. Good God, that had hurt.

Wherever she was, it smelled clean to the point of smelling sterile. Over the faint whirs, clicks and beeps of machinery, Gina could hear traffic far-off, and what sounded to be the whispers of celebrity gossip on the television—Gina was most certainly not dead, for this was most certainly not Heaven. She doubted that Heaven would have celebrity gossip.

After what seemed like a tremendous endeavor, Gina managed to open her eyes, though she felt as if her eyelids were being held down by lead weights. Gina blinked the bleariness of unconsciousness from her eyes, surveying her surroundings. Had it been for a lack in medical machinery, which decorated her bedsides, Gina would’ve believed herself to be in a hotel rather than a hospital. The room was painted a warm tan, with decorative paintings of flowers on the far wall, opposite of the foot of her bed. A television was mounted to this same wall, and was streaming celebrity gossip. To her left, an unoccupied spare bed, the door out, and what she assumed to be a restroom. Through a window on the door, she could see nurses bustling past.

Gina’s gaze wandered back towards herself, to survey the damage. For one, her jacket was gone, as was her scarf and the shirt that she’d been wearing underneath it all. She was now garbed in a hospital gown, which was open in the back. Gina slid out of it cautiously, careful not to tweak her shoulder, and saw that a bandage had been fastened not only her shoulder, but over her arm and across her chest. She wasn’t bleeding any more, though. Gina shifted back into her gown, her gaze trailing past her the bandages. An IV drip was hooked to the crook in her arm, and was steadily dripping blood. Her gaze continued along the loosely knit blanket that covered her from the waist-down. She paused when she found the two figures at her bedside.

The first, a young man in his twenties, had pulled a lounge chair to Gina’s bedside, and was slouched forward, his face burrowed in one arm, while his freehand was loosely resting on one of Gina’s hands. Though she couldn’t see his face, she would know that tousled, dirty-blonde head of hair anywhere.

She looked towards the second figure, a woman who was in an identical chair, over by the window. She was middle-aged yet elegant, even when she was artlessly draped over an armchair, head lolling backwards in unconscious slumber. Her hair was a few tones lighter than the boy’s, a solid golden-blonde, and spilled about her face in straight, loose tendrils. Her legs were propped up on a coffee table, and a magazine was still open upon her lap.

All Gina could do was stare in disbelief—she couldn’t speak, her voice silenced in wonder. How on Earth had they gotten there? Or were they really even there? Was she still asleep? Was this all just something concocted in her head?

Finally, Gina found her voice, though it came out as a groggy croak.

“Mom,” she breathed, “Max.”

Neither Maxwell nor Pamela stirred when Gina spoke—her voice was far too raspy, as her throat was uncommonly dry. Or maybe they were just illusions of an intoxicated mind? They couldn't be here, in New York... they were supposed to be in California. Perhaps, if Gina could just touch one of them, and see if they were real?

Gina shifted stiffly, her back groaning in protest as she slowly leaned forward. If she could just nudge Maxwell, to wake him up, then she wouldn’t have to bother trying to speak any louder. She extended her good arm, and gently shook her eldest brother’s shoulder. He groaned and stirred, turning his face towards Gina without opening his eyes. He had fallen asleep with his glasses on, Gina noted with a smile. Typical Max. She nudged him again, and whispered a hoarse, “Max, rise and shine.”

Maxwell opened his eyes slowly, and sat up, rubbing the sleep from his grey-eyed gaze. He glanced towards Gina as he adjusted his glasses, and his breath hitched.

“Gina, you’re awake,” he gasped. Ever-careful of her injuries, he took her hand in his, and kissed the back of it lightly. Gina smiled faintly. Of the three brothers, Maxwell spoiled her the most.

“Yeah,” she trailed, still smiling, “Max, what are you guys doing here?”

Max frowned, still fastened to his sister’s hand as he lowered it to the bed.

“They called us, said you’d been shot—we were so scared…” he squeezed his sister’s hand tightly, “We caught the first flight we could catch out of San Francisco.”

I’d been shot.[/i] Memories came trickling back, despite the drug-induced fog that blanketed her mind. Her stomach lurched, and she looked towards the bed sheets. It hadn’t been a dream—Gina thought she was going to be sick.

“Sis, you okay?” Maxwell inquired, brow stitching. Gina nodded wordlessly, swallowing back the nausea.

“Mom’s going to kill me,” Gina observed weakly, her feeble voice quivering with the threat of sickness. She almost feared her mother’s rage more than facing a guy with a lion’s head—just thinking that brought on another wave of sickness—anyone who would have rather taken Pamela on had never dealt with a Mother Bear who’d been crossed, before.

“I should wake her, since you’re awake, at the moment,” Maxwell murmured, tilting his gaze inquiringly towards his sister. His tone said that he wouldn’t unless Gina permitted him to do so. Gina nodded.

“You should,” she confessed. That was all the permission Maxwell needed—he kissed his sister’s hand once more, reassuringly, before releasing her hand from his grasp. He unfolded himself from the chair, pushing it back from him as he stood, and shuffled over to his mother.

As Maxwell was about to rouse her, Pamela let out an unglamorous snore, at which both Maxwell and Gina grinned. Oh, Mom— Maxwell shook his mother’s shoulder lightly, speaking in soft tones as he said, “Mom, wake up… Gina’s come-to…”

Pamela didn’t awaken as slowly or peaceably as her son. She jolted awake, lost in a moment of blind confusion and mid-snore. She glanced groggily towards her son, inhaling deeply, and she let out a tired, “What?”

“Gina’s up,” Max answered. Pamela glanced blearily towards her daughter, and Gina smiled.

“Hey, Mom,” Gina croaked. She couldn’t help herself, she smiled in relief. Given the circumstances, there was a whole new meaning to the sentiment, “Good to see you.”

“Gina,” Pamela gasped, getting the same look of threatening-to-be-tearful relief. She was on her feet in an instant, stumbling towards her daughter, and she wrapped Gina a bear-hug. Gina wanted for nothing more than to stay there, in her mothers’ arms, constricted against her mother’s chest, but—

“Ah, Mom, the shoulder—“

Bear-hugs were really painful, at the moment. Pamela released her daughter with a faint apology, and instead resorted to touching Gina’s face, touching her hair, and just constantly touching her, overall.

“Baby, how do you feel?” Pamela inquired.

Gina’s throat was shot, her entire body ached, and she was trying to hold what little she had in her stomach down. Her head was pounding, too—all of this because she’d been shot, and God-knew-what kind of damage that had done to her shoulder and her wing… Whatever had happened, it had landed her in a hospital with IV's plugged into her arms...

Given the situation, she felt phenomenal.

“I don’t feel half bad,” Gina replied, her tone cracking under the effort of trying to sound cheerful. It simply made her sound even weaker, “All facts considering.”

She smiled faintly, and her mother smiled back, but Pamela was rubbing her temples as if massaging away a headache. It was the calm before the storm. A heavy silence settled, during which Gina and Maxwell exchanged hesitant glances. Maxwell nodded encouragingly.

“Momma, I’m sorry—”

"Regina Marie Schuyler," Pamela interjected.

Gina went silent. As every child knew, your mother meant business when she pulled out your full name. Gina knew she was busted, and thus let her mother say her piece.

"I get a call at ten o' clock last night saying that my daughter was out gallivanting about the city and was shot."

Pamela fixed her daughter with a stare that bore directly into her soul, a subtle anger simmering just below the surface of her gaze, like a pot threatening to boil over. Gina felt her stomach knot beneath the intensity of her mother's glare.

"What in God's name were you doing out at that hour, and by yourself?"

Gina picked at the loose-knit blanket that covered her legs, unable to meet her mother's gaze, "I just... needed to clear my head, so I went out for a, uh, night-flight."

"'A night-flight'?" Pamela echoed. She flopped into one of the lounge chairs in exasperation, throwing her hands up in the air, "Regina, they have curfew for a reason."

"I know," Gina replied meekly.

"What if you had died last night? What then? It isn't safe for a girl your age to be out at that hour, unaccompanied, in the middle of New York City. Do you understand that?"

"Yes," Gina mumbled.

"I just can't understand what it was that compelled you to break curfew like that. You were never that rebellious at home."

Ginas' lips tightened into a hard line, and she ran a hand through her untidy curls. Now, of all times, they were adressing her behavior, "I already told you-- I just needed to get some air. I know, it was stupid and reckless, and I shouldn't have done it, I get that. I didn't do it to rebel. I didn't plan on getting shot."

A tense silence fell.

"Nobody plans on getting shot," Pamela sighed, "It's just, Gina, you know how I feel about the city."

Gina nodded mutely. She could have been the second loved one that Pamela had lost to the city, the second Schuyler who had died under the barrel of a gun. Gina sighed as her mother's subtle fury melted away into little more than an exhausted sorrow. The gargoyle girl wavered in-between guilt and annoyance. Even with the hum of medication swirling in her head, she was getting a tad irked. Did they really need to be having this conversation now?

"Momma, I'm really sorry," Gina groaned, reclining in her bed. Maxwell, who had widely stepped back during this discussion, stepped forward and placed a hand on her shoulder. Pamela remained stonily silent.

"Are Jameson or Dante here?" Gina inquired, attempting to change the subject.

"No, just us," Max replied.

"Does Xavier's know I'm here?"

"The hospital notified them as well, yes," Pamela trailed, her gaze flickering over her daughter, "The Headmistress is going to meet with me in a short while, and we're going to have a talk--"

Gina didn't like the sound of that word "talk". It sounded like the sort of "talk" that meant something much more than that.

"What do you mean, 'talk'?"

Pamela glanced towards Maxwell, and Maxwell sighed heavily. What weren't they telling her?

"I have," Pamela trailed hesitantly, her statement punctuated by a sigh, "Half of a mind to take you back to California the day that you're discharged. I want to pull you out of Xavier's."

One Hour Prior, Xavier's Sister School

Shortly after the Schuyler residence had been notified, Xavier's Sister School was also alerted by the hospital. The call came in through the X-Men's twenty-four hour line, before being transferred directly to Headmistress Delilah Tipper's room. Just after the call from the hospital, the Headmistress called the Schuyler residence. It was one o'clock in the morning, Eastern Standard Time.

Pamela Schuyler answered, and the discussion that had ensued was both brief and intense. It boiled down to this-- Miss Schuyler did not blame Xavier's for the incident, she would be on the first plane out of San Francisco, and that they would discuss matters in-person once she arrived in New York City. The Headmistress was profusely apologetic all throughout the phone call, offering Miss Schuyler her condolences and the services of Xavier's resident healer. Miss Schuyler accepted graciously, and the call was ended there.

It was now half-past eight. And, in the seven hours that had transpired, the Headmistress hadn't found any sleep yet. Her mind had been racing with what had to be done, and how. Visiting hours had been open for a half-hour now at the Lennox Hill Hospital, where Regina Schuyler had been taken. Now was when the time when the Headmistress meant to leave. Thus, she rose from her seat, and strode towards the door. She had already been dressed, sporting knee-high black leather boots with spiky heels, nice skinny jeans, and an off-white blouse, all brought together by a charcoal-grey winter coat.

The Headmistresses' heels clicked down the halls as she briskly made her way to the Infirmary. Student traffic was sparse but steadily growing, as it was an hour where a good chunk of students were either awakening or leaving their dorms for breakfast. The Headmistress approached the Infirmary door quietly, and popped it open, lest any students still be resting within.

The beds were oddly unoccupied, and the DocProf sat at the far end of the Infirmary, chair reclined against the desk, nose buried in a newspaper, and a cup of black coffee at hand. He dropped the newspaper and looked up as the Headmistress entered. A warm, paternal smile touched his face.

"Ah, Delilah-- good morning," he greeted chipperly. He was a shameless morning person. When he caught the Headmistress's grave expression, his smile faltered into concern, "My dear, what's the matter?"

"Can I ask something of you?" the Headmistress inquired.

"Always."

"A student of ours broke curfew last night, and was shot--"

The DocProf sat up attentively, eyes going wide. "Are they--?"

"She's alive," the Headmistress affirmed. But, her tone was grim.

That was all that the DocProf needed to know. He discarded his newspaper on the desk, took his mug to the sink and emptied it of coffee, exchanged slippers for loafers and slid into a blazer.

"Where is she now?" he demanded.

"Lennox Hill."

"Lead on."

The two of them left the Infirmary together, conversing in urgent tones.

"I'd prefer to keep this on the down-low," the Headmistress murmured, "The girl that was shot is Regina Schuyler, a gargoyle-looking child. I'm going to grab some things for her, from her room, first, and ask her roommate some questions--"

"I've met her," the DocProf mumbled back, "And her roommate? Who is she?"

"Agnes Nicholas."

There was a quiet hum of life within the halls of the student dormitories. As the DocProf and the Headmistress passed, little more than polite greetings were offered. The two teachers were followed by furtive glances and sly whispers, their collective presence enough to cause a stir in the early-morning crowd. But, it was that the DocProf and the Headmistress were on a mission, so nobody dared approach them.

The Headmistress ignored the hushed curiosity of the students, fishing into her pocket for a small, handwritten note. It read "Agnes Nicholas", then underneath, a room number. The DocProf read quietly over the Headmistress's shoulder.

"Delilah," the DocProf trailed, "Are you certain that it's a good idea to inform her roommate?"

"Word has a funny way of traveling, Doc," the Headmistress countered, "I'd rather that Agnes hear this from me, first."

"How much are you telling her?"

"Everything that they've told me."

The Headmistress halted before the closed door of the dormitory that Agnes and Regina shared, giving a steadying sigh. This wasn't going to be easy. With the DocProf rooted behind her, standing as silent as a shadow, the Headmistress knocked thrice upon the door, then waited.

When there wasn't an immediate answer, she knocked thrice more, and called out, "Agnes, this is Miss Tipper, the Headmistress... I need to speak with you for a moment. It's important."

There was a shuffling within the room. The two teachers waited with baited breath.

Eight-thirty in the morning and Agnes still had not got up out of bed. She wasn’t surprised. She had officially announced today as one of her lazy days and she was going to encourage it. Yawning she turned onto her side in bed and draped her pillow over the side of her head and lay there in a comforting darkness. Her pillows were nice and warm and the pajamas she wore were comforting against the bare skin underneath them. She had been studying her butt off all week, so she was sure that she more than deserved this break.

She was snooze until…maybe…nine-thirty and then go forage for food? Maybe Gina would have something they could do today. Something that would be completely time wasting and have absolutely no sense of purpose. After all, that is what teenage girl’s do, right?

She yawned wide, nearly hearing her jaw crack, as before she calmed and kept her hair buried between the pillows. She was not going to move at all. Not even if the god’s themselves parted the clouds and appeared in her bedroom.

Today was going to be a nothing da—

Knock knock..

Agnes grumbled. She didn’t want to leave her safe cocoon of warmed and softness. Without lifting the pillows she called out to her roommate. It was time for her gargoyle sister to get out of bed anyways. At least to her that made sense.

“Giiina…” she moaned from beneath the covers and pillows. “Get the door, please? I find myself incapable of moving…”

She yawned and nuzzled deeper into her pillow. Back to that restful slee—

Knock knock…

She growled slightly. Sitting up out of bed, with a struggle mind you, she turned her closed eyes towards Gina’s bed.

“Gina, what’re you--?” she hazard opening an eye but paused when she noticed that Gina was not in her bed. “Gina?” she asked calmly. Was she already gone? But before she could muse on the thoughts any longer, she turned and towards the door where a very demanding voice suddenly called out…

>> "Agnes, this is Miss Tipper, the Headmistress... I need to speak with you for a moment. It's important."

“Coming!”

She gasped. She should have known better than to keep the headmistress waiting at her door. Slipping out of bed, her hair a fabulous mess of bedhead, she stepped into her ladybug slippers and moved to the door as he eyes adjusted to the morning light. Dressed in just her deep purple tank top and plaid pajama bottoms she shyly came up to the entrance to her room.

Hand on the door knob, Agnes gently opened it while she attempted to run her fingers through her hair.

“Miss Tipper? Doc? I-Is everything okay?” she asked.

From behind the door, there was a sharp, “Coming!”, and then the sound of rushed footsteps. The Headmistress took a step back, closer to DocProf, and exchanged a hesitant glance with him. Perhaps it wasn't such a good idea to tell her--? It was too late to turn back now. The door was yanked open, and Agnes Nicholas came to the door.

Her hair was tousled from sleep, and her face was groggy. She was brunette, with striking blue eyes. Just a kid. Could she handle such news?

>> “Miss Tipper? Doc? I-Is everything okay?”

The Headmistress, though the primary authority of a school full of mutants, wasn’t very skilled in putting things delicately. She always told things like they were, and this was not the sort of situation in which such a character trait was necessarily a good thing. Her lips tightened into a frown, and she glanced towards the DocProf once more. He was a far more diplomatic person than she, and the DocProf only nodded his head. He was there for moral support, and to heal, not to break difficult news to groggy teenage girls.

“Agnes, something’s happened,” the Headmistress explained, her voice dropping to a gentle, low tone, “May we come in? You should probably have a seat, and I’d rather not discuss this in the hall.”

Once given the permission to enter, the two faculty shuffled in, allowing Agnes to sit wherever she so chose. The DocProf took a seat at one of two, matching desks, while the Headmistress opted to stand. She was running on a tight schedule and couldn't afford to sit down. She'd probably fall into a dead sleep, if she did.

“Your roommate, Regina, broke curfew last night,” the Headmistress started of haltingly, still wearing the same look of mild discomfort, “Did she tell you about where or why she was going out? Or that she even was going out?”

There was nothing accusational in her tone or the way that she regarded Agnes, just a polite inquiry with underlying exhaustion. And, of course, the persistent sense of urgency.

Her gaze wandered over Agnes’s face, and then over the DocProf’s, looking to the DocProf for any subconscious hints to soften it up or cut to the chase. He smiled mildly, and nodded his head. There really was no easy way to say that someone’s roommate, someone’s best friend, had been shot.

Agnes stood there, staring at the pair of school officials, completely at a loss about what to think about them. Why were they here? Did she do something wrong? Agnes had no idea what she could have done. She normally kept pretty much to herself while she was in the school because she didn’t care to draw unnecessary attention to herself. Some bad incidents prior from when she first came to the mansion popped in her mind. But nothing like that had happened recently, at least not to her knowledge. So…if she was not in trouble…what exactly was happening here?

She gulped a little as they looked between themselves. Wow how she wished they would just get it over with.

>> “Agnes, something’s happened…May we come in? You should probably have a seat, and I’d rather not discuss this in the hall.”

“Oh, ugh…o-of course,” she responded as she stepped back to let the pair of them inside. Making her way to her bed, Agnes gently turned around, watched them and slowly sat down at the front of it. She was getting extremely nervous now. “W-What’s going on?”

Both the headmistress and DocProf looked at each other and Agnes shifted uncomfortably on the bed. She was so nervous about their presence that she actually began to feel a rather tight buzzing inside of her chest. It was more than just nerves now, her insects were beginning to get riled up and that was never a good sign. She did her best to remain calm until they finally spoke.

>> “Your roommate, Regina, broke curfew last night…Did she tell you about where or why she was going out? Or that she even was going out?”

Gina? Agnes arched her brows in a confused manner as she tilted her head to look up at the headmistress. She lightly shrugged her shoulders. “Gina likes to night fly around the mansion. Sometimes she feels cooped up and needs the open air.” Agnes said honestly. Personally she never saw anything wrong with it because Gina was usually extremely careful. “I-Is everything…okay? Is…she in a lot of trouble? She really doesn’t mean anything by it.”

Agnes did her best to speak on Gina’s behalf to prevent detention or anything, but it was slowly dawning on her that this was not the reason for their visit. Her eyes welled up as she looked between them.

“W-What’s wrong? I…Is there something wrong with Gina?” she asked.

Buuuuuuuzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz…[/b] the sound from her chest nearly turned deafening now…

>> “Gina likes to night fly around the mansion. Sometimes she feels cooped up and needs the open air... I-Is everything…okay? Is…she in a lot of trouble? She really doesn’t mean anything by it.”

So, Agnes knew that her sister snuck out, but didn’t know specifically that she’d wandered off. Great. That would make it even tougher to just up and say what had happened. It would’ve been easier if there was some form of reprimanding to be done.

Now the difficult part came. A pregnant pause fell as the Headmistress weighed her words. In that single pause, Agnes began to catch on, and a low hum began to swim around the room. The Headmistress was seriously questioning as to whether or not this was such a good idea, or if she should have grabbed Gemma first, before trying to break the news to Regina’s roommate. Just her luck, the girl would spew bugs at her, and then she’d still have to have that conference with Mrs. Schuyler.

>> “W-What’s wrong? I…Is there something wrong with Gina?”

“Agnes, Gina is alright,” the Headmistress began, her tone still low and placid, contrary to the ominous hum in the room, “However, last night—“

The Headmistress sighed heavily, the DocProf shifted.

“Last night, she went a little farther than just around the Mansion… she went downtown, and—“

She was not trying to stall, but it wasn’t proving a simple task to say those words. So, the Headmistress just out and said them.

“And she was shot,” the phrase had a powerful gravity, when it was uttered. And, though it didn’t take the Headmistress to follow-up with the next explanation, it felt as though an eternity of silence rippled after it, “Fortunately, they were able to get her to a hospital, and so… things didn’t go as terribly as they could have. She’s still alive.”

The Headmistress flicked her gaze to the DocProf, but the DocProf didn’t return it. Now, he was stepping in. The wizened old man stiffly rose from the chair, and took his seat besides Agnes, on the bed. He would handle calming her down. He took a seat beside Agnes, and placed a consoling hand on her shoulder.

“Delilah and I are on our way there as we speak,” the DocProf assured Agnes, his timbre low and with that reassuring, well-practiced mellowness that all doctors spoke with, “I’m going to see how badly she’s injured, and I’m going to heal her…” he patted her shoulder with emphasis, sighing, “She’ll be fine.”

The Headmistress had enough patience and enough insight to give DocProf the time to explain to Agnes exactly what was going on, but her patience wasn’t something that lasted long. The DocProf, in his eternally perceptive fashion, delicately meandered from the subject of Gina, to getting some things together for her.

“Delilah and I saw fit to tell you,” the DocProf explained, “That way, you heard it from us, rather than your peers—“ God knew how kids could contort a story before blowing it way out of proportion, “—We’d also like to get some things together for her because, even if I heal her, the hospital is likely to keep her few extra days, just to be safe. “

Agnes was absolutely tense with worry now. She didn’t know what was going on or what these two wanted from her, but she had a feeling that Gina was in terrible trouble. As much as she tried to wrangle in her emotions, she could not help but feel utterly worried now. Gina was her best friends, her sister for god’s sake! And here these two were, she was sure they had news about her. After all it was never like Gina to suddenly not be in bed. She roomed with the girl, she stayed in bed nearly as late as Agnes did and snored the whole way through! No, something must have happened.

Inadvertently she held her breath as she waited for one of them to continue to speak…

>> “Agnes, Gina is alright…However, last night—Last night, she went a little farther than just around the Mansion… she went downtown, and—And she was shot,”

Her hands flew over her mouth in horror. The word barely registered as a word, in her mind. Instead all that flashed through were images of Gina in pain, a loud gunshot, and the sight of blood. Though she didn’t know exactly what happened, she was completely terrified for Gina’s safety. Unable to really know what else to do, Agnes nervously fidgeted as she tried to calm her body down. The swarm was already beginning to run amok in her body and wanted to be released.

>> “Fortunately, they were able to get her to a hospital, and so… things didn’t go as terribly as they could have. She’s still alive.”

It was only through some deep breathing that she managed to calm herself down and keep from erupting into complete hysterics. She was going to fine, but that still did not change the fact that Gina was shot. Shot! Who in their right mind would have done that?

She wanted to stand up, she wanted to lie down, she wanted to throw up, but all Agnes could do was sit there in mute horror. Then she felt the bed sink in a bit next to her and she glanced to the side to see that DocProf was sitting next to her on the bed and gently patting her shoulder. ‘

>> “Delilah and I are on our way there as we speak…I’m going to see how badly she’s injured, and I’m going to heal her…She’ll be fine…Delilah and I saw fit to tell you…That way, you heard it from us, rather than your peers—We’d also like to get some things together for her because, even if I heal her, the hospital is likely to keep her few extra days, just to be safe. “

He was going to heal her, good! But still…Gina had to be so scared! Mutely she stood up as she kicked off her fuzzy ladybug slippers and moved over to grab one of Gina’s bags. With an almost “in-shock” look on her face she stood there with the bag and held it out to whichever of the adults wanted to grab it first. She would show them where all of her stuff was located, whatever they needed to bring her sweet little sister.

“I’m going with you,” she finally said in a resolute tone. Then looked up between the two of them. “She’s my sister. I am going with you.”

The Headmistress sighed heavily, gently plucking the bag from Agnes's grasp.

>> “I’m going with you. She’s my sister. I am going with you.”

Her tone was unyielding, but Agnes looked absolutely shaken. If this was how she was handling the news of her "sister's" outcome, God only knew how she'd react when the two of them came face-to-face. The Headmistress really didn't want to take the time to debate about this, or even if she did, she wouldn't let the DocProf start packing the bag. She was pretty sure he wouldn't even know where to start.

"Agnes," the Headmistress groaned. This wasn't some sort of social-hour. The DocProf was coming along to Lennox Hill to help mend Reginas' wounds, the Headmistress was going to talk to Pamela Schuyler. But, Delilah didn't have the heart to say "No" outright. Though Agnes seemed positively numb with shock, she seemed cognizant enough to know to insist to come along. And, who was heartless enough to tell a girl that, no, she couldn't see her roommate? For as much of a hard-ass as the Headmistress was, she had enough of a heart to understand this compulsion.

As if sensing the inner debate that churned within the Headmistress, the DocProf sighed, "Let her come with, Delilah. She can accompany me. I'm sure that Regina would appreciate the company."

The Headmistress frowned, and simply said, "Alright, you can come along, too. Which is Regina's wardrobe?"

After directed towards one area of the room, the Headmistress walked brisquely over that way, grabbed a couple of shirts, and a couple of jeans... a sweatshirt would be nice, too. Maybe a hat. She just piled about three outfits in. They could get more later, if Gina was kept longer. The Headmistress also put a pair of pajamas in, lest she spent the night.

While the Headmistress handled the clothes, the DocProf retrieved toiletries.

"Which toiletries are hers'?" DocProf inquired from the restroom. They seemed to be in two, distinct clumps. Once directed, DocProf retrieved a toothbrush, toothpaste, hairbrush, comb, and deoderant. And, as an afterthought, he grabbed one Scrunchi.

He returned to the main room with two hands full of toiletries, and tipped those into the bag as well. They were all packed and ready-to-go.

"We will wait for you to get ready," the Headmistress said simply. She was a woman of her word, "Then we'll depart."

>> "Agnes…”

Agnes stared at the headmistress resolutely. She was thankful for this place, she was thankful that she got a second chance at life, but if these people thought for a single second that she was not going to come along and see her sister, they were completely out of their minds. But Agnes didn’t argue the point right away. Instead she stood there, placed a hand on her hip as she offered the bag and simply stared at the pair of adults.

Just let them try to stop her.

>> "Let her come with, Delilah. She can accompany me. I'm sure that Regina would appreciate the company."

>> “Alright, you can come along, too. Which is Regina's wardrobe?"

Good, was all she thought. She wouldn’t have let them go without her anyways.

She pointed to the wardrobe that was nearest to Gina’s bed. “That one over there.”

She watched then as the two adults began to clamor around the room, collecting items to get to her sister who was in the hospital. Agnes was still having a hard time wrapping her mind around it because in all honesty, she was not sure how she could accept it. She loved Gina so much and the thought of her lying in a hospital bed, especially after being shot just terrified her. Who would go out and shoot her anyways? It was just insane! Gina wasn’t a threat to anyone.

Numbly Agnes wandered over to her own wardrobe and began to pull out some clothes that she could change into. It was while she was in the process of pulling out a pair of jeans that she heard DocProf shout out from the bathroom.

>> "Which toiletries are hers'?"

Agnes wandered over to peek into the bathroom. The professor seemed to be stumped as he stared at two piles of toiletries. No wonder he was confused. Teenage girls could be so unorganized.

“The pink, sparkly points are Gina’s. On the left.” she said and then returned to pulling out clothes to wear.

Pulling out a shirt she looked up to see DocProf and Ms. Tipper collect the last of the things that they needed to take to her hospitalized sister. The headmistress turned and returned Agnes closely. It was obvious that she was not one-hundred percent keen on the idea of allowing Agnes to come along but she was also not in the mood to fight with her. She simply nodded…

>> "We will wait for you to get ready…Then we'll depart."

Agnes nodded and watched them step outside. Quickly Agnes got dressed. She threw off her pajamas, slipped into jeans and a loose, lilac colored shirt and brushed her teeth while she ran her fingers through her hair to tame it. All in all, the girl was done in about 1 and a half minutes flat. She didn’t know she was a speedster. But just as she slipped on her denim jacket she paused when she looked at Gina’s bed. Sitting on the pillows was a stuffed tiger…the exact one that Gina was holding when they met for the first time nearly a year ago. Dashing over, she snatched it up, and proceeded outside to where the Headmistress and DocProf were waiting.

“Ready,” was all she said as she nestled the stuffed tiger close to her chest. She wouldn’t let go of it until it was put in Gina’s arms…

The Headmistress and the DocProf stepped out of the dormitory room, standing stoically in the hall. There was a lot to talk about, but not out here. Not around the students. God knew that word spread like wildfire in the halls of Xavier’s. They exchanged quiet, anxious glances and little more, and waited. Students trickled past, glancing inquiringly towards the Headmistress and the DocProf, but no one asked them anything. They knew that they wouldn’t get a straight answer.

The door to the dorm room popped open, and Agnes stepped out, clothed and toting a stuffed tiger. The Headmistress arched a delicate eyebrow. What was with the stuffed animal?

>> “Ready.”

“Then, let’s depart,” the Headmistress said with a curt nod. The trio walked quietly down the hall, with the Headmistress at the head of the group, and the DocProf keeping pace with Agnes. They left without addressing anyone, descending to the first floor before making their way outside, towards the garage in which the Headmistress’s car was parked. And, for that whole time, nobody within the trio realized that they were being followed.

===//////===

The ride over to the hospital was a largely silent ride, punctuated by brief exchanges between the DocProf and either woman within the car. The Headmistress spoke largely of official things—how they were to conduct themselves at the hospital, who was handling what and how, that sort of thing. Occasionally, the DocProf would try and speak to Agnes, just to make sure she was okay, and to reassure her if she wasn’t..

The car rolled up to Lennox Hill in no time whatsoever, but the twenty-minute trek over had been the longest twenty minutes ever. They pulled into a parking garage that was beneath the hospital, descending a level before finding a parking place. Then they all spilled out of the car and, once again filing behind the Headmistress, trekked to the elevator that would take them up into the lobby.

The elevator binged as it arrived, and they all went into it. The doors slid shut. The DocProf glanced at Agnes quietly, “How are you holding up, my dear?”

The elevator came to a halt at the top of the elevator shaft, at the same level as the lobby, and the three folks from Xavier’s filtered out. While the elevator had been bland and undefined, the lobby of the emergency room was slightly better. A wide, open walkway led to the front desk, and then there were rows of uncomfortable-looking chairs and sofas, punctuated by square tables that were overflowing with magazines, and fake potted plants. The walls were a warm tan, and decorated by meaningless, decorative pictures.

The Headmistress split-off from the DocProf and Agnes, approaching the front desk on her own. There were no lines, and so she was able to freely approach the secretary.

“May I help you, miss?” the doughy-faced, bespectacled redhead of a secretary inquired from behind the desk.

“Yes, I’m here to see Regina Schuyler,” the Headmistress explained, “Schuyler is S-C-H-U-Y-L-E-R. Her mother is already here and should be expecting me.”

“One moment please, Miss,” the redhead requested. Her fingers flew over the keys of a keyboard, typing in Gina’s last name before punching the enter key. She announced the room number, her eyes swimming lazily over the computer screen.

“But, will you wait one moment please?” the secretary requested, “I need to request call up to the room to be sure they’re ready for you.”

“Of course,” the Headmistress agreed patiently, bobbing her head, “I will stand with my cohorts while you call.”

The Headmistress stepped away, rejoining the small group, and she informed them that, “She has to call upstairs first to make sure they’re taking visitors, before letting us go up there.”

The DocProf nodded, he and the Headmistress standing with their backs to the door, and their eyes set on the secretary as she picked up the phone. She supported it between a shrugged shoulder and the side of her face, thus leaving her hands free to dial up to the room.

Just getting back from her patrol as the mysterious Shred, Emerald didn't think that anything else of note would happen that night so she planned to head straight to bed for a hopefully peaceful slumber. After she changed out of her Outfit in the hidden shed and parked her bike she went up to the mansion and made her way up the stairs. This was when she heard talking in the hallway, while this wasn't uncommon, the voice was that of the headmistress, which meant something was up.

The wolf girl fully made her way up the stairs and saw them talking to Agnes which made a ball of worry appear in her stomach. Had Anges done something wrong? had something happened? So with her enhanced hearing she tried to take a listen and once they went inside of Agnes' room Emerald would follow, waiting for them to close the door before pressing her head against it, listening to every word they said the she-wolf felt her brow crease with worry.

Gina, Agnes' roommate had been hot and while she was just fine she needed enough medical attention to go to the hospital. While the girls had only met once, Emerald felt the need to protect her just like she needed to protect Agnes, it was like having Ruby around all over again. Except these girls had never really seen a true big battle where getting shot was semi normal, they were practically civilians, and the she-wolf would not forgive whoever shot an unarmed target.

Once she heard that they were going to a certain hospital, Emerald made her way to her bedroom to get her helmet for the green machine and her riding gear for it, she was going to go follow after them.

++++++

In about twenty minutes time, most of that time spent keep keeping pace with the van all while taking certain alternate routes so they wouldn't see her following too close behind Emerald managed to find the group in the emergency room lobby where she followed in about 5 minutes later, they seemed to be getting info from the front desk on where Gina was so Emerald preceded to stride up to the front desk to follow suit. She had been to this hospital before, this was where Ms. Shift had been assiggned. She had a vague knowing of the staff in the Emergency ward but mainly talked to Shift where all the surgeons were, where she was known as Dr. Smith. Emerald wondered if "Dr Smith." Worked on Gina at all while she was in the Emergency room for her bullet.

This was neither here nor there though, the she-wolf would tap on the headmistress shoulder with a gloved hand.

"Hey Big T, whats the status on Gina are they gonna let us back there?"

The headmistress turned to see one of her oldest students standing before her, dressed in a fairly new looking pair of jeans with a leather jacket over her shoulders, her hair all flattened from wearing her helmet and those dog tags around her neck. She would let out a low sigh, some things didn't change and one of those things was Emerald seeming to be able to sniff out trouble whenever there was one.

" She's stable and awake, she wasn't injured as badly as she could have been.. Probably, if you don't scare they off by looking like some sort of member of a biker gang then yes," Ms. Tipper couldn't that bit of sarcastic wit that came in at the end. She had known the werewolf for years, ever since she was fifteen, feral and alone in the back of a cave. She had brought her to the institute herself and had a semi good rapport with her.

Emerald grinned a little, " Well that's good.Nah, don't worry they won't think that, a friend of mine works here and some of them know me. They are used to the whole wolf in biker clothing or surfer clothing or whatever." Emerald watch Ms Tipper turned to wait for more information and she would nod to Docprof who would give her own right back before she turned her attention to Agnes wrapping her arm right around her pack mates shoulder.

She would give a little wince though, her left side still a little messed up from her encounter with lion head and she had only gotten stitches from Shift and some bandages. She would see Doc about it when he wasn't worrying about someone who was shot. She didn't want to be a worry for anyone. "You holding up alright? I bet we will get back to see her real soon and she will be happy to see you and that giant stuffed Tiger you're holding."