Recent Posts

Hearing Michael speak from behind Chase was like bearing witness to active ventriloquy. Chase was the body, Michael was the speaker-- and boy, did Michael speak. He reiterated his name, even after Chase had introduced him. Then, much in the fashion of an anxious Michael, Mivhael went on about drinking milk with nose straws, and how he'd never tried such a thing. A puzzle was deposited on Hokee's chest, which Michael went on to describe as a gift, but not-really-a-gift.

There was a brief pause in which Chase, ever-silent, looked back to see if Michael had said what he had to.

Apparently he hadn't, for the smaller boy said a short spiel about bruises, before finally drifting into silence.

For the entirety of Michael's speech, Chase had been watching Hokee carefully, maintaining the look of fearful concern, and only drawing his gaze away to glance back at Michael.

>> "Ace."

Chase didn't know what "ace" meant, but it had to be really bad, judging by how Hokee looked. The eldest boy of the trio glanced around, surveying the machines that were clustered around his bed, before shifting his arm. Chase removed his hand from Hokee's arm, and burrowed it into his pocket. Clumsy fingers brushed a remote bearing a single button, but couldn't seem to grasp it.

>> "Push it.....push.."

Chase got the message. He shuffled over to the proximity of the remote, and plucked it up delicately. For a moment, he surveyed it, and then did as instructed, and pushed the button. On command, the I.V. twitched as fluid ventured down it. Chase followed the voyage with his eyes as the clear liquid trickled down the straw, and went straight in Hokee's arm.

"That was cool," Chase mumbled, looking at the remote. He had no grasp of what he'd just done, but opted to set the remote down nonetheless. He looked towards Hokee again, "Better?"

>> "They are taking him to the hospital... He is going to be fine. We are going to go after him and make him fell better. Okay? I'm sorry, baby, it's going to be all right."

Chase shivered, and nodded in response, but he didn't speak. He was crying, but he didn't sob uncontrollably. He was a learned silent crier, and he even burrowed his face in Gemma's side.

The approach of the EMT's drew Chase's attention. Out of habit, Chase shied away from them, more out of the unfondness of being touched as opposed to the fear of shifting. He couldn't shift around his mother, anyways. Miss Gemma pulled out her phone, probably to call Jorge, and the EMT's focused on Chase surveying Chase's elbow.

The peculiarity of his skin made it difficult to determine how bad his elbow was, but it was obviously bad-- the skin was broken and the bone was probably as well. The EMT's surveyed it, asked Chase if he could move his arm, and Chase replied with a muttered and abrupt, "No."

More questions had ensued, about how he'd done such a thing, and this received the short, concise description of, "I saw the car swinging towards up, so I put my arm up over my face, and I broke the window with my elbow."

When the questions were finished, they set to mending Chase's elbow to the best of their ability, at least for the time being. Until they could get him to a hospital. Chase protested that there was a healer-man on his way, but the EMT's didn't listen very well.

>> "No fudge until after you eat a sandwich."

Good. Chase didn't have the patience to wait for the fudge to be ready. He'd have a sandwich to hold him over, and then he'd get fudge to go with it.

>> "Want to make it?"

But before Chase could answer, two slices of bread were deposited in his hands. Chase had never made a grilled-cheese sandwich before, to be entirely honest, but he was indescribably independent.

"Sure," Chase agreed, surveying the two pieces of bread. It couldn't have been too hard, if Locke was trusting Chase to be able to do it. A butter knife was passed to him, and a tub over butter was placed in Chase's proximity.

>> "I'll supervise, make sure that you're safe. You start by buttering the bread on one side."

Chase could butter bread. He set the slices of bread down on the counter, and pried open the tub of butter. Chase then began to lightly butter one side of one slice of bread. He did that, then looked back at Locke, picking up the second piece of bread as if to butter it, too.

Locke didn't say not to, so Chase did.

Finally, the two boys were able to muscle their way into the room. The nurse bent to their pleas, and Michael sauntered in ahead of Chase, eager to escape the halls. Chase briefly thanked the nurse, and followed his cohort in. Chase sauntered slowly into the room, his eyes wide as he surveyed the room. He'd never been in a hospital before. He was intrigued by the machines, and by the room as a whole. Michael began rambling, which made the taller boy jump faintly. Michael was usally so quiet, so when he did speak, it tended to make Chase jump. As if the younger of the two forgot that his friend could vocalize in such a way. Michael was going on about one of the machines to which Hokee was hooked-up, and Chase sauntered closer, for a better look. Michael was muttering, so Chase missed a small chunk of what he was saying.

>> “-in case of any changes that happen to really any part of the patient it can be picked up by this so that monitoring could be taken to a whole new level. It’s also a model protected from interference of a defibrillator and there’s adult and child settings on it too. Quite…interesting.”

Chase shifted his gaze to Hokee, and gave a mumbled, "Must be sleeping."

>> “All seems to be really normal…”

Chase nodded in agreement.

"Got a straw up his nose," Chase observed quietly, "Bet it goes straight up to his brain."

Given the situation, perhaps it wasn't the most reverent of sentiments, but Chase was equally as anxious as Michael, now that they were in the room. He hadn't expected Hokee to be all beaten-up like this. People went to hospitals to get better, so why wasn't Hokee all fixed yet? Hokee shouldn't have been laying in the bed, with that tranquil expression set against an injured body. He should have been running around the room, he should have been all-better. And, since Hokee wasn't all-better, Chase wasn't too sure what to do now.

Hokees' eyelashes fluttered, the melodic beeping of that machine that Michael had been rambling about picked up tempo. Chase glanced at Michael, his hands wedged tightly in his pockets. Maybe Hokee was waking up? If he was, Chase wasn't too sure of what to say. He didn't want to talk to Hokee, didn't want to touch him, because that would establish that the real Hokee was the one laying in the bed... that his friend really was hurt, and not all-better like he was supposed to be. He should have never snuck upstairs. Again, Hokee opened his eyes, or tried to. So... Chase should probably say something.

"Um... Hokee?" Chase inquired, "Are you awake?"

The question hung in the air, and Chase glanced back at Michael again.

"It's Chase," Chase announced, "And I brought a friend. His name's Michael. We came to see you, with Mama, but they were making us wait downstairs. So Michael and I snuck up."

Chase gave an uneasy smile, at this- his eyes lingered in the brown-orange-yellow range of anxiety, a feeling which he couldn't seem to swallow.

The elevator arrived with a faint *ding* and the doors slid open before Chase. The nine-year-old stepped aside to let those already within the elevator walk out, glancing back at the waiting area again.

Only to find Michael standing directly behind him, staring at his feet.

"I was bored," Chase said simply, "So I'm going to go find Hokee on my own."

Once the elevator was cleared, Chase stepped in and punched the button for the second floor, with Michael in-tow. Chase presumed that Michael was going to follow him, so he at least did the other boy the favor of telling him where they were going. The elevator slid to a stop, and the doors slid open once again. They were faced with a hall that branched in two directions, right and left, as they stepped out. Which way-? Left. There were more rooms with open doors to look through.

"Come on," Chase murmured, donning his human guise fluidly. The two set-off down the hall, with Chase twitching his head from left to right as he peered in through doorways in search of Hokee. This was going to take a while...

"Hey, you two!" a sharp, feminine voice said resolutely. Chase froze in his tracks, gaze sweeping back towards the speaker. She wore the garb of a nurse, and she looked like she meant business, "Where are your parents? You shouldn't be wandering the halls alone."

Chase looked at Michael, then looked at the nurse. Crud, now they were going to get sent back to the waiting room. Unless...

"We're here to see a friend," Chase explained, "But we got bored so we went for a walk, and now we're kinda lost and don't remember how to get back to his room. My mom's probably worried sick."

So Chase was bending the truth a little bit, by implying that they'd already been shown to Hokee's room. Whatever he needed to say to get them to where they wanted to go.

"Can you help us?"

The nurse decompressed faintly. It wasn't like the two boys had been causing any trouble. They were just lost, nothing more.

"Or course-- what's his name?"

Shoot. Chase wracked his brain, trying to recall that one time he'd turned into Hokee...

"Hokee," Chase said plainly, "Hokee Chogan."

The nurse instructed the two of them to follow her, and led them to the nurse's station. There, she asked the attendant to look Hokee's room up on the system, while the two children stood by patiently. She only addressed Chase when asking how Hokee's last names was spelled. Chase recited the spelling dutifully, and a few moments later, they determined where he was.

"Ah, you got off on the wrong floor," the nurse observed, "He's up on the third floor," she recited the room number, before deciding, "You know what? I'll take you to him."

"Thank you, ma'am," Chase said sweetly. The trio returned to the elevator, went up another floor, and the boys were led to the door of the room in which Hokee was being kept.

"That's odd," the nurse murmured, peeking in, "I don't see your mother in there."

Uh-oh. There was that small problem. Chase looked at Michael again.

"Was your mother really up here?"

She was catching-on.

"Please don't send us away," Chase whined, looking mournful. His eyes flickered with tints of sorrow, "He's my best friend. Practically my big brother. He got in a car accident, and he got hurt real bad, and I really, really want to just see him. We won't cause any trouble, I promise. I just want to see my brother."

The nurse was a softhearted one, because the sight of a child being practically in-tears seemed to do the trick. Her shoulders sagged slightly, and she shrugged, "Okay. I'll go make sure that he's up to seeing visitors. What's your name?"

"Chase," Chase replied, "And this is my friend, Michael."

Chase watched the smaller boy with muted interest, his eyes still churning with color as his gaze remained intent on Michael. Rather than slide his feet into the shoes, Michael picked the shoes up gingerly and surveyed them. He wasn't moving very well, at all, and Chase's expression puckered faintly. At least his parents hadn't been this cruel to him.

>> “We'll take very good care of your son-- Chase, why don't you show him to his seat and get him a little snack for the flight? Quickly.”

Chase nodded in acknowledgement of Katrina's instruction, and he gestured for Michael to follow. It was his choice if he didn't want to put on the shoes, but now Chase's feet were starting to get cold, and he wanted to get on the plane as soon as possible. Michael followed obediently, but he wasn't moving very quickly. He seemed to be in a sad state. Chase hesitated to assist him, though-- he hated to be touched, and if the choice were his, he preferred not to touch people, either. But... Michael wasn't walking well, and the obvious, most logical solution to this problem would be to pick him up or somehow aid Michael in walking. Chase sighed.

He gathered his sleeves over his hands as he returned to the slightly smaller boy, and gave the brief explanation of, "Let me help. I'll pick you up."

Chase tucked his sleeve-clad arms behind the knees of Michael, so that the other boy was essentially sitting on his arms, and he picked him up. Michael was small, but that made little difference-- Chase only had a few inches on him, and was scrawny to boot. It took all of Chase's effort and concentration to primarily keep himself from dropping Michael, but also keep from turning into him. (For Michael had looped his arms around Chase's neck to steady himself.)

Chase delicately picked his way back into the jet, pausing once they were inside. Did he trust Michael enough to set him down, or should he carry him to the food? Chase opted to carry Michael the rest of the way-- after all, he'd already made it onto the plane, so what would a few more strides be.

"This way," Chase murmured, walking towards the passensteelbluegers area of the jet. It wasn't furnished like a plane built for travel, but instead like something you'd find in the military, or for a hospital, though slightly more glamorous in its outfit. The picnic basket had been tucked back in a seat and buckled-in so that it wouldn't slide around. Chase staggered over to the seats, and released Michael right in front of them, so that he could stand or sit at his own liesure.

"Katrina and I brought food for you," Chase mumbled, "Since you said it'd been a while since you've eaten." While Chase spoke, he rummaged into the basket, and pulled out a packet of Fruit Gushers. He tore it open, and held it out for Michael to take, "These are Fruit Gushers-- you ever have them before? They're really good. Try some."