7310/All The King's Men And All The King's Healers-

All The King's Men And All The King's Healers-
Date of Scene:	10 August 2021
Location:	Labs - Titan's Tower
Synopsis:	Phoebe uses her magic to heal Terry' wounds. But this is just the beginning of a very long week for Gar and Kian...
Cast of Characters:	Terry O'Neil, Phoebe Beacon, Gar Logan, Kian

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Terry O'Neil has posed:
===================Then===================

    <<Heeeey Phoebe...>> was the way the text started.  It was one of those texts were you could hear the 'you're not going to believe this' tone in a person's voice—through text.
    <<SO... I'm kind of... broken. In a kind of sort of bad way.>>
    Ten seconds later: <<I'm kind of dying, but not really. But SOrt of. Its complicated. Do you have any time to come by the tower?>>
    <<help.>>


=============Now=============

    Terry sits on a table in the medbay, feet swinging to and fro over the empty space as he waits.  The frustration in the lab is rather palpable—and it all comes from the red-headed teen.
    "…what if the injuries are too much even for magic?" he mutters to Gar as they wait for Phoebe's arrival.  "Do you know how much it will suck for part of me to be stuck near death?"

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    It has been a significantly busier week for Phoebe than normal.  Moving from Gotham to New York.  Attending services for gods of Death, collapsing a temple in India, Paris catacombs to fight The Hunter and sleepiness at once, and she had just put her feet up on her bed with a book when the text came through.  It was unusual first, because she doesn't often get texts from a Titan.
    She was already grabbing her med bag and checking out to see if her new roomie was in before she was heading for the door.
    And then when that last text came she was securing her bike helmet and heading out of Manhattan and for Metropolis, ignoring most of the rules of the road on her motorcycle.  And she is so, so very happy she no longer has to rely on public transportation.
    So in walks Phoebe, messenger bag slung to her back, helmet in hand, wearing a dark gray biking jacket, braids all akimbo as she takes a deep breath.
    "Terry O'Neil!" she calls out as soon as she's off the elevator and into the medical lab.  "That entirely depends on which part of you is near death!"

Gar Logan has posed:
    Also on the phone, Gar's thumbs move quickly as he has a text conversation with somebody while holding a verbal one with Terry.  In the aftermath of The Problem, Terry looked his usual self if you didn't factor in the stress and worry, along with all signs of the feline side being kept under wraps due to the nature of the injuries that were suffered.
    A real Good News / Bad News thing, there.  Hey, I'm okay like this, but the other half of me is near death!  Yaaaay!
    Glancing up at the question, he says tersely, "They won't be.  There's a way.  We just have to find it.  You'll see.  This kind of stuff happens more often than you'd think."  He's probably just saying that to reassure.
    Green eyes drift toward the doors, green head following as green guy watches Phoebe arrive.  "Hey," he says, a brow going up.  "You're here to fix him?"

Terry O'Neil has posed:
    "Phoebe!" Terry pipes up, feet swinging up and he slides off the table, sneakers hitting the floor with a >thud<.  "Thank you for coming!  I hope I didn't interrupt anything…" says the man who said he was dying, but only part of him, so it's only half an emergency, right?
    "You remember Gar, right?  He's the poor man burdened with having to deal with me."  Well, one of two, but only one is here.  "Do you want anything?  Are you thirsty?  Do you want a soda?  Gar, do we have soda handy?  Tea?  Lemonade?"  Terry turns back to Phoebe.  He looks careworn, but a guest is a guest on Earth and in Wonderland.  And at least on Earth they don't get condemned to an eternal tea party.
    "So the problem is… the Cheshire part."  Captain Obvious to the rescue, as the human form clearly doesn't have a visible scratch on him*.

---

* As to the non-visible one: Gar gets very territorial about his pizza, okay?

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "Well, my record of superhero fixing is two and a half out of three, so let's try to make it a full four today."  Phoebe gives a smile to Gar, and she removes her biking gloves, sticking them in her pocket, and as Terry orbits her slightly regarding grabbing a snack, she reaches up and plucks his earlobe.
    "Celebrate later," she states, turning her dark gaze to him, "At the moment I'm medical, you don't need to break out the tea or jam until we get your other half hale, yes?"
    And as she guides Terry back to the table.  "Talk to me about the injuries before we take a look.  What happened?  What's the worst injury you have?"

Gar Logan has posed:
    Gar Logan takes on more of an observer point of view, crossing his arms in mild concern while watching the interaction so far.  "Well, I'm not exactly poor," he quips, giving Terry a sniff of apparent amusement before he starts in on offering her all manner of drink.  "I… yeah, what she said.  If she doesn't need anything right now, let's start figuring things out," he agrees.
    Now he's hovering closer, but not literally.  You never know with him.  "Yeah, he can't go cat right now without it being a danger."

Terry O'Neil has posed:
    "Ow ow ow—okay, okay!"  Terry is led back to the table.  Flashbacks from highschool and Sister Joan 'The Ear Hunter' pass briefly through his mind.
    "I… took a laser blast to my arm.  Left one."  He gestures to his perfectly healthy human arm.  "While in Cheshire shape.  And then I sort of attacked the guy who blasted me.  Except that he… bled energy?  Or something of the sort.  And that fell on me and kind of… what I'm trying to say is that I have holes in me.  I changed back because I knew that I'd die if I stayed in the Cheshire shape any longer."
    He exhales as he sits back on the table.  "So if I change back… I don't know how long I have left, but it isn't much, at least I'm sure of that.  It's the reason why they haven't been able to examine me.  Right now I'm a little bit beyond most science…."

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "Which is why you turned to a magical healer," Phoebe replies in thought.  "So, left arm, hole in stomach," she states, taking off her jacket all the way.  She's wearing an old T-shirt with a couple holes in the lower hem announcing that some band or another was going to be playing at some bar in Gotham.  She breathes out, rubbing her wrists a moment.
    "One concern I have is that the amount of energy I'm going to be putting you, you're going to be drunk for a week," she states, and she grabs a stool to sit down.  "So I'm going to make you promise to stay out of trouble for a week, so everything balances out."  She turns up to Gar.  "Can you make sure he takes it easy for a week?  'Doctor's' orders."

Gar Logan has posed:
    Gar Logan grimaces, with some of the details coming out being news to him, too.  He hadn't asked.  Hadn't wanted to find out at that point.  Wasn't ready to know.
    "That sounds… ow," says the guy who had to deal with part of his arm being bitten off before he was tossed into the sea to his presumed death.  "And I don't know anything about magic, except one of these days I'll probably be the rabbit someone pulls out of a hat, and that's not real magic in the first place."  He's in costume for one reason or another.  Supers do that.
    Squinting at Phoebe, he deadpans, "You do remember he's got an alter ego that's a cat.  Staying out of trouble for a week would be a new record by like four days."

Terry O'Neil has posed:
    "…I can stay out of trouble for a week…" Terry says, trying to sound a little wounded, but also with the half-hearted protest of someone who knows there are things that he really can't argue against.  He glances at Gar and reaches over to grab the green teen's hand and gives him a kiss, trying to look as innocent and ingratiating as possible.  "Besides… you and Kian can keep me entertained.  We've got video games.  And board games.  And you could bring Leo to visit me.  And April.  And mom—"
    Record scratch.  "Oh fuck.  Mom.  She doesn't know yet…."  He puts his hand up to his mouth in that classic look that every teen knows.  That look that says I Am Going To Be Up To My Ears.  Even if Agatha O'Neil can no longer ground her son, there are other things she can do.  Her motherly arsenal is formidable.
    "You're going to have to tell her, Gar."  Wait, what?  "I'm going to be too drunk to really do it correctly so Phoebe how exactly do we do this do I just lay there and then transform or what this is my first time doing something like this—"
    You notice he hasn't taken a single breath yet?  That's because he's talking too fast in the hopes that Gar won't be able to interject.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "I know, that's why I'm counting on someone who loves him to keep an eye out since I can't."
    At the mention of Terry's mom, Phoebe goes a little stiff, and then she straightens herself up, reaching to guide Terry to lay down.
    "Lay down, and relax, Terry.  I'm going to take care of you," the medical mage states, calmly to the two lads in the room.
    Phoebe replies to Gar with a slight smile, "I'll be out of touch at odd times.  Taking some fieldtrips with a new mentor, but if you have any questions, I can give you my number.  If nothing else, Red Robin and M'Gann both know how to get in touch otherwise," she states, and then she reaches up and delivers a sharp pinch to Terry's ear.
    "All right you, I'm going to start.  When you feel the pain from the pinch totally fade, transform," Phoebe states.
    And the teenager with the scruffy T-shirt, her braids all akimbo from moving violations from the way from New York to Metropolis brings her hands up.  One is laid on Terry's shoulder, pushing in slightly.  The other is laid on his lower stomach.  She closes her eyes, and light as bright as the sun peers out from between her parted fingers as she begins to heal Terry.  Of course, on this body, that little bit of bruising from her pinch is gone in a flash.

Kian has posed:
    Kían drops to a landing inside the doorway, folding up his wings behind him, although they twitch with nervous energy.  "Gar!  Iss Terry… ah."  His wings spread… and then re-fold, after taking a glance at the ceiling and remembering they make rooms wrong on this planet.
    He bows in greeting to Phoebe, and stands close to Gar.  "Iss there anythin' I can do… or should not do?" he asks, addressing her but watching Terry.

Gar Logan has posed:
    "I'll keep an eye on things.  I know what it's been like to be close to, uh, death, but I'm just gonna have to trust you that you know what you're doing and you'll be able to help.  But if it looks like something's not working, he has to go back to Terry before it's too late," Gar explains, rubbing an elbow of his after he's exchanged a moment with Terry.  "And I'm gonna be texting your mother about this, you know.  She's gonna want to see you as soon as she can," he adds.
    When Kian arrives, he waves him over.  "Hey.  Ahh.  Emotional support?  We're kind of in uncharted waters here.  Phoebe's gonna be trying to heal him magically."  He nods to her, the names given to him tucked away in his head for now before he squints at the pinch of Terry's ear again.

Terry O'Neil has posed:
    Terry takes a deep breath, and glances over to Kian as he lands inside the doorway.
    "Kian!  You could come over and… distract me with your mind!" he says, waving the bird-man over.  The redhead brings his bracelet over to his eyes, so he can see them in the mirror reflection.  "I'm going to need distraction in just… a bit…."
    When the pinch pain fades, he waits until Kian is by him and Gar, nods to Phoebe, and says the words.
    And then, after the rainbow light has faded, there is Vorpal.  And the blood starts to flow from his arm.  And his stomach.  And he takes a deep breath, eyes screwed tightly shut in the moment that the other body materializes, having been frozen in time from the moment that the injuries were sustained and Vorpal had switched to Terry.
    "Nrrrhttthhhmp!"
    Hands and toes curl in pain and he actively has to bite down on his muzzle so as not to let out a mighty shout as the pain asserts itself and Phoebe's energy hasn't had a chance to soothe his nerves yet.  Tears roll down his cheeks.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    Phoebe wouldn't lie.  This was Bad.
    The amount of damage takes her by surprise as her lay-on of hands presses in on the Cheshire cat's shoulder and down against his stomach.
    "Hold his shoulders.  Don't let him bite his tongue," she states to the assembly, and as the rainbow light fades on Vorpal's form, Phoebe's sunlight gets stronger between her palms and his body.
    The shoulder re-attaches neatly, fibers reaching out to join one another, capillaries and veins and sinew drawing together like a slow-motion Velcro.  Skin knits.
    That hole in his stomach, though?  That is going to take more focus.
    But as she heals, Vorpal would feel the nerves stop burning, a warm feeling against the nerves, numbing and tingling as they're healed and the feeling of cool water drawing down his veins the wrong way, magic tracing itself over his body.

Gar Logan has posed:
    And this is how it comes to pass that Gar gags Vorpal.
    First, he grimaces at the sight of the injuries, sucking in a hiss of a breath.  "Damn, you weren't kidding!" he exclaims, and his first impulse is to touch a hand to Vorpal's shoulder just as Phoebe's calling for a hold on him, leading to him looking quickly toward Kian.  "Keep him in place."
    Gar turns to one of the cabinets and rummages around, coming up with a piece of rubber that looks kind of like a large bit for a horse.  Pressing it to Vorpal's mouth, he says urgently, "Open up, and bite down on this if you have to.  It'll help."  He watches as some of the healing begins to actually take place before his very eyes, like something that would have been seen in the days of low-budget horror movies, or done by CGI today.  "Just hold on.  It looks like it's working," he adds, giving Vorpal's arm a squeeze where it's not undergoing the healing process.

Kian has posed:
    Kían was already reaching for a shoulder—it's his Akiár training, from emergency Services.  He's learned some of the basic mind-to-mind pain-dampening techniques used among his people.  He can't make it stop hurting, but he can try to lighten the pain a little.
    If it works on human minds.
    And if he doesn't get distracted by the Vorpalness of Terry's mind.
    And if he doesn't get knocked out of the connection, since he'll feel some of what Terry's feeling himself.
    So, shoulder: really, it's all the birdman was able to look at, he caught a glimpse of the other injuries and nearly fled to a far corner of the room.  And then, he concentrates… and lets out a half-stifled "nnh!"

Terry O'Neil has posed:
    If pain weren't so overwhelming, Terry would have thought to ask Gar how the hell he know where to find the gag—but as it stands, he eagerly bites down on it as Gar and Kian keep him from struggling too much.  This is a good thing, and Kian is given a front row seat to witness what, exactly, happens to Vorpal's when magic the likes of Phoebe's goes through him.
    At first, there is pain, but as the soothing magic works its way through the chaos cat, there is a level of relaxation that takes over.  The psychic funhouse that is the Cheshire Cat's mind becomes even more unusual, colors become more vibrant and things start to seem funny that… really aren't. Like—
    Oh my god, there is a hole in my stomach!  You know, my aunt used to say that the way to a man's heart was through his stomach—
    Lovely woman.  Absolutely terrible surgeon.
    It's like Kian suddenly has a stand-up comedian monologuing in his mind.  That's not the only effect, though… the light coming from the windows seems a lot more… ethereal, and there are the faint strains of music coming from somewhere.  A discerning enough ear might recognize the first movement of Beethoven's Sixth Symphony: The Pastoral.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    Phoebe is keeping her concentration, grateful for the help as she guides the magic to the places with the most damage.  Terry's holy stomach is taking a lot to work through, first the internal organs regrowing, and then the ligatures holding them in place, the muscles and sinew of his stomach… is that Beethoven playing?  What?
    Phoebe takes a shuddering breath, shaking one hand out and then the other as she flexes her fingers.
    "At least he's relaxing—now just keep him from getting up… nearly…."

Kian has posed:
    It's not a mental rollercoaster ride for Kían since they don't have rollercoasters.  It is instead severe mental turbulence, like the winds in a major thunderstorm, up in the cloud itself.
    Never mind how Kían knows what that's like.
    He doesn't try to direct where Terry's mind goes, he just rides along and tries to smooth out any jangles.  Not as easy as it sounds from the inside.  Outside, in his body, he giggles softly.

Gar Logan has posed:
    Any good medlab would have stuff like that.  Gar was just thinking quickly.
    He watches intently without really understanding how the magic works, chaos or normal or otherwise.  Is any magic normal, really?
    He squints at the faint music, then shakes his head.  "This is tame for him.  It looks like it's working, though.  Uh… keep it up."

Terry O'Neil has posed:
    And what about those FERRETS, amirite?  They're constantly sneaking around and stealing things, and then biting people when they discipline them—Hey, you don't think Robin is secretly a ferret?
    As the magic courses through him, the Cheshire cat is in drunken bliss.  The gods can keep their Ambrosia, Vorpal could be high on goodness any day of the week!  The medbay has disappeared by now, separated by lush forests with golden sunlight bathing everything.
    And the music grows louder.  And, of course, in come the Nymphs.
    They dance around, clad in diaphanous robes and drapery, which glides gently with each movement.  And Gar might notice there is something very familiar with the Nymphs.  One of them is clearly Harley, cavorting in the air while swinging a mallet, but in a very artistic manner.  Another one is Donna, decked to the nines in Greek paraphernalia and dancing with another nymph whose back is turned to all until one graceful twirl reveals her to be… Raven.  But it's so wrong, because she is smiling.  And it's kind of terrifying.  But it's not nearly as out of place as when Nymph Cyborg prances through the glade, striking delicate poses leaning against a tree here and there, with Nymph Caitlin flowing right behind, imitating those leaning poses but in her case resulting in trees toppling over when she leans over them.
    On the table, the healing progresses according to plan.  Vorpal is no longer making muffled screaming noises, but he's humming instead.  Yes.  Beethoven.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    Phoebe breathes out, able to open her eyes, though she's swaying slightly before she glances up and notices that the Medlab is now a meadow with various dancing nymphs.  As a Gothamite, she is rather unnerved by the Harley one, but she remains her laying-of-hands on the feline oddity before she has to tap out a little bit.  Her hands sting.
    Terry is about 90% there; now it's all just ugly bruising along his stomach and to his chest.  Normal superhero injuries.
    Phoebe wobbles on her stool, and then falls off it to the side with a 'thump!'

Kian has posed:
    Kían has no idea what to make of this, and he's hard pressed to say which is weirder—Raven-nymph or Cyborg-nymph.  Instead, he just tries very hard not to think about it.
    He doesn't totally disengage his mind, but he does back off a little, no longer needing to help manage Terry's pain levels, not yet enough to be fully aware of what's going on in the physical world yet.
    The question he asks is, of course, obvious: {Is this Wonderland?}

Gar Logan has posed:
    "Um…" is about all Gar can come up with upon seeing the product of Vorpal's imagination, running wild around them.  He knows it's not real, but he'll be damned if it isn't crazy.  Because it's absolutely crazy.
    Soon as the stomach wound is closed back up and Phoebe topples, he looks immediately to Kian and asks, "Is that normal?  Wait, what am I saying?  Nothing is normal about this.  Help make sure she's gonna be okay."
    As for him, as for Vorpal, he bites his lip and reaches down to pinch at both of the cat's ears.  "Hey, wake up, dude.  Come back to us.  It's done.  You're okay.  You look more, uh, colorful than usual, but no gaping wounds or bleeding or any of that."  He also reaches for that bit, to toss it aside into a nearby sink.

Terry O'Neil has posed:
    "I am Wonderland!" Vorpal says with a cackle once his muzzle is unobstructed, answering Kian's thought with words.  Around them, the mythical festivities reach a new frenzy as Nymphs are leaping with surprising agility.  And then, the forest opens up to reveal an ocean with painted waves that move in a very stiff, decidedly 18th-century-stagecraft way.  Out of that faux roiling ocean there rises a gigantic seashell, and when it opens it reveals—
    It isn't unusual for Kori to be found in the altogether up on the rooftop.  By now, this is a regular occurrence for anyone who has spent any time up on the pool on a sunny day.  What isn't usual is seeing Kori emerging from a clam, using her enormously long, flowing hair to cover herself up while a tiny winged Gar and Kian fly around her, bringing some sort of drapery to her as if to either cover her up or give her a towel.
    "Have I ever told you you are sooooo pretty?" Vorpal says, grinning at Gar, "You are so pretty and full of forests and your eyes are like emeralds and Kian is pretty too, all those feathers and—"
    He blinks.  "Oh no Phoebe dun' fall over!  Gar, help her!  She put me back together, like I was Humpty Dumpty and she was all the King's men!  You gotta treat my friend nice!  For saving me!  You should… you should buy her a… treat her to a… I know!"  He points a finger upwards.  "Buy her a five courser meal!  Wait.  Wait.  No.  That's… that's wrong.  Although she might be hungry enough to eat a horse!  But not five!  Are you, Pheeeeebeee?" he says, turning on his side to glance over at the downed Phoebe.  "You fainted from hunger didn't you?  We gonna feed you.  We gonna feed you aaall the food in the tower~ This feels so good, you know?  I've never been this… woooosh!  I'm so pumped full of goodness!  I've never been pumped full of goodness before!"  He rolls onto his back.  "Wait, no, I'm wrong, there was that one time when Gar—"

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "Thaaaat's enough right there, Terry!" Phoebe interrupts from the floor, appreciatively looking up at the folks to help her up, and she cracks her neck.  "Today I fought a friendly death in a little way and won.  Hope that carries with me," she states… and her stomach grumbles.  She gives a flat lipped face.
    "I have the oddest craving for birthday cake ice cream with rainbow sprinkles," she announces, and then turns to look at the stage-waves, and the unusually unattired Starfire.  She raises her shoulders, leaning back to support herself on the table and just gives a soft 'huh' sound.
    "So.  In case you did not realize, Vorpal gets very, very happy drunk on holy magic.  And I heal with holy magic… mostly.  It's complicated.  So."
    She pushes Terry back down to make sure he stays on the table.
    "No running amok for a week.  Your shoulder and stomach are going to be very tender.  Go light on dairy and rich foods."

Kian has posed:
    It is with an effort that Kían extracts himself from the cat's mental meanderings.  He opens his eyes, looks around, blinks a couple times, looks around again, and blinks some more.  Finally he stares at his own hand.  "I am not touchin' you, Terry, but I still see what I saw in your mind."
    He reaches for Gar's shoulder, in hopes he's both real and stable.  It's so hard to tell right now.

Gar Logan has posed:
    The visuals just leave Gar staring, forcing him to shake his head and then close his eyes in an effort to block what he's seeing.  The words from Vorpal?  The words that make little sense?  They just keep going.  Train of thought.  Drunken ramblings.  Weirder than usual from Vorpal.
    That is, just up to the point he starts to talk about being pumped full of anything.  "Hey!"  His hand immediately clamps over Vorpal's mouth, muzzle, whatever, and a rush of heat is felt in his cheeks and ears.  "It was whipped cream!" he insists, only making it worse.  "I knew a cat who would try to eat it right out of the canister, and I thought it'd be funny if…."  Much worse.  "Never mind."
    Clearing his throat as Phoebe gets back into things, and Kian backs off before coming into contact with his own shoulder, he mutters, "How long before… that wears off?  If it's the whole week and he has to stay that way…."
    It might be the first time Gar doesn't want to see Vorpal!

Terry O'Neil has posed:
    "Oh… okay.  I won't eat rich dairies… for a week… and…."  The Cheshire cat yawns for a second, and glances at Gar.  "…I thought you liked me.  Your words have such a sting to them!"
    And that's when a little wasp buzzes around Gar's head.  Yes, it is Nadia.  But it really isn't Nadia, because Nadia has a human body, whereas this is a wasp with Nadia's head on it.
    Another stifled yawn.  "This was… exhausting.  Having a hole in you.  I think I'm gonna… Kian… make sure Phoebe gets her cake… get her a nice birthday cake.  Not the ones Gar picks…."  yaaaaawn.  A drunken, grateful glance to Phoebe.  "I owe you big.  Pheebs.  You're solid.  You're awessome… you're…."
    And his eyes close and he falls asleep.  Fortunately, that means that all of the illusions are dispelled and the medbay returns to its regular, boring (in Vorpal's opinion) appearance.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "I was actually hoping he'd maybe pass out after the initial manifestation of his power and then sleep through a good portion with just cartoony pink elephants hanging over his head, but—"  Phoebe draws her dark eyes to Gar, and gives a slight smile, and the younger healer gives a smile as Terry passes out.
    "Ah, there we go."
    Phoebe teeters again, and then she reaches into her bag.  She takes out a card with #GothamHope and a website crossed out, so that it's just a phone number.
    "Keep him as calm as possible with… ah… no strenuous activities."
    She tries to remain professional, bringing her hands behind her back.  "Vigerous physical activity should wait until the bruising goes away.  The remaining magic in his system from me will help him heal the brusing faster than normal, but best to make sure he's on his best behavior.  Ambient empaths and psychics should probably keep their distance as well, because I have no idea what his dreams are going to be like following that much holy light going into him."

Kian has posed:
    "I will not avoid Terry," Kían says.  "I haf been in his min' before.  I will help him heal internally while he heals ex-ternally."
    He reaches down to brush Terry's hair back a little.  Sproing, Terry's hair is having no truck with that.  "Even if he iss not awake, it will be good if he knows we are here."
    He does not add, 'Also wow, that was intense, I want another taste of that,' not out loud.