WHUMP. [Locked]

[definitivestep]

Despite the way things tend to explode every time Sam leaves wherever he happens to be living at the time, he does need to get out every now and then. He felt the need for a little fresh - if freezing - air, and so he's ventured out into the cold. The Tower doesn't seem to have any parkas in the closets, and he should probably look into that, but

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[weareshadows]

There's a giant yellow hummer careening down the street, oddly quiet for, you know, a giant yellow hummer careening down the street.

A number of questions could probably be asked at this point, such as "Why is the hummer so stealthy" and "Who needs a hummer in the middle of Chicago" and "Who needs a hummer that eye-searingly yellow" and "Did the owners just not learn their lesson after their last visit ended in a velociraptor to the windshield?"

None of these questions will be resolved. Nor are they particularly important next to the fact of the matter: that fact being that they take a turn too hard, hit a patch of ice, and slip onto a trajectory which leads a large reverse-engineered military vehicle on a trajectory straight toward a pedestrian whose day is about to get dramatically worse.

The driver notices and twists the wheel just enough to send the car into a fishtail, managing to miss Sam by mere inches with the front of the car. The rear end, however, swings around before he Sam a chance to dodge and before the driver can get the thing under control...

There's a very

unfortunate

WHUMP.

...and then the hummer is off into the night again, with a squeal of tires and a conviction that if they get out of here FAST enough maybe "giant yellow hummer" will be a common enough descriptor of local cars that they'll get off scott-free.

And never come back to Chicago again.

[definitivestep]

Sam would like to think that he is not actually any worse at observing basic traffic safety than any other person, that this is just stupid bad luck and possibly some higher power's vendetta against him.

That doesn't change the fact that a hummer just came skidding down the street toward him, faster than he could get out of the way, and smacked him with the rear side of a very large, fast-moving vehicle. Predictably, he goes flying. Lands with a far too familiar crunch of some bone (or possibly bones) breaking, and he doesn't have time to sort out just what broke or how badly, because a millisecond later his head cracks against the ground and there's just white pain exploding in his head.

Someone somewhere nearby may be calling 911. And Sam, were he able to think past the pain, may be hating his life just a little bit more than usual.

[riversodeep]

If there's one thing that can be said about Chicago hospitals and other 911 services, it's that when they haven't been paid off by anyone, they respond pretty quickly. Police arrive first to get people back off the scene, but an ambulance is there within four minutes, and out of that ambulance step to angels.

The taller one, a stubbled male on his second shift, moves up to Sam and brushes a bare finger across his cheek, just enough to feel the shock of pain attacking him on every analogous point. "No spinal damage," he remarks to his companion, carefully repositioning Sam on the street. "Sir, can you tell me your name?"

The smaller angel, a woman with tied-back reddish hair, is already checking Sam's heartrate and breathing, and then moves to check his eyes for dilation-

And doesn't get too far, because it abruptly feels as though she's been hit by a hummer.

The pain is so unexpected that she jerks back with a hiss, her companion catching her, even when it feels deeply, personally wrong to get away from this person even if she knows he's where the pain is coming from, especially when-

Oh.

Oh.

...well, this would just figure.

[weareshadows]

The other angel's been a paramedic for long enough, and been called on enough supernatural weirdness, that he can pretty accurately pin a guardian angel in pain without even knowing that the person is a guardian in advance. As for Andy...

Okay, this is bad. Who the hell gets their ward on a job call, anyway? He might not know the ins and outs of guardianship, but for a Calling he's always considered to be a bad deal, this certainly SUCKS.

"Oookay," he says, stripping off one glove entirely, because there are certain things which are matters of basic math and he knows that having one person incapacitated by pain on the scene of an accident is twice as good as having two. "Let's play the old shuffle on this, Andy. And, uh, knock him out if he doesn't want to come on a trip back to the hospital for me."

Andy shoots him a dark look just before he lays his hand on the victim's neck, gritting his teeth as all the injuries drain into him.

[definitivestep]

Sam's not exactly processing things as quickly as he ought to be, which happens when you've just been hit by a hummer, but he gets there after a moment. He may not have noticed the way the woman recoiled, but the fact that after being touched with the other paramedic's bare hand he's suddenly in less pain than before leads to a few conclusions.

The first is that, now that he thinks of it, he's not all that fond of cars in general.

The second is... "You're an angel." Why is it he always runs into angels? There can't really be that many, even in Chicago. "You don't have to..." Oh, why does he bother? Interfering with callings never ends well, so he'll just move on.

And he remembers there was a question, somewhere back there in the haze of pain. "I'm Sam Tyler. I work for Torchwood, at the Kashtta Tower..." He doesn't know that they'll recognize any of that, but there's a chance.

[riversodeep]

There were many things that could have made this situation better. That was not one of them.

Andy doesn't have time to object to Alex going and healing the guy, seeing as she was a bit incapacitated by pain, and as soon as he's done, she's hoisting him onto her shoulder.

"Familiar with the breed, huh?" she says. "Well, I hope you've always wanted a guardian angel, mister, because I'm-did you just say Torchwood?"

She has, but only barely, the presence of mind not to follow that up with You're the ones with the psychopath problems and the freaky talking city-box!

Mac is going to kill her.

[definitivestep]

Sam's already answering before she finishes that sentence - as soon as the words "guardian angel" are out of her mouth, he grimaces a little, pushes himself up, and says quickly, "I already had a guardian angel, and if you're going to tell me-"

Someone responding to the word Torchwood like that is not the best thing that could have happened. They may not be beloved by all angels (or even most angels... or many angels at all...), but that seemed just a bit more personal than he would have liked. "You're familiar with us?"

[riversodeep]

Right. "Torchwood" is not an encouraging word in this situation, and "I already had a guardian angel" is even worse. She's already carrying Alex to the ambulance, but-

"You're the guys from that whole immortal psychopath thing," she says. "Yeah, I kinda had a brush with you then. Well, I say a brush, but..."

He already had a guardian angel. This bodes poorly for both of them, but - and there's that bond kicking in already - she's finding herself more scared for him than for herself. Unless he's some closet axe murderer, but if that's the case, she'd really hope the universe wouldn't be feeding him victims.

"You're going to have to take a side trip to the hospital with me," she says, nodding at Alex. "Sure you know how this goes. I can't very much leave you here while I go haring off for parts unknown."

And on the way you can explain to me how you've already GONE THROUGH a Guardian Angel!

[definitivestep]

"We dealt with that," he says simply, in response to the "immortal psychopath" comment, because that's something he would like to make very clear. It's not the most encouraging thing he could say, but... apparently he's not very good at encouraging just now. He's still trying to get over being hit by a hummer. "You're the one that Thane- oh." He'll forgive her that reaction, then.

He hesitates for a moment at the mention of a trip to the hospital, and then grimaces and sighs. He's familiar with the guardian bond. He knows how this works. "Alright, fine. Do you have a phone?" If he's going to be gone longer than expected, he might as well let everyone know where he is. Not that any message he could leave would be very encouraging...

[riversodeep]

Andy, who's situated a pain-groggy Alex in the back of the ambulance, quickly retrieves a cell phone and hands it over. "My supervisor is an angel," she says. "Lived in Chicago for a long time, now. Trust me, he'll get what's going on. Quiiick trip out of your way."

She tilts her head at him.

"Do I want to ask how you already had a guardian angel?"

[definitivestep]

Sam takes the phone with a tight, strained smile and a nod of thanks, and dials the number for the Tower quickly, half-hoping no one picks up. If he can just leave a message... He holds up a hand in a "wait" gesture at Andy's question, and winces a little when the phone only rings twice before being picked up.

"Hello?" Gwen's voice. Wonderful. He's just going to make this quick.

"Gwen, it's Sam. I'm out of the Tower now, and something came up. I'm fine, but it's going to be a little while before I get back. ...I'll explain later."

He hangs up before she can say anything, and hands the phone back to Andy. "I didn't kill him, if that's what you're wondering. He's still alive." Not exactly well, but alive. "I died temporarily, not that long ago. I'm not planning on it happening again. ...I didn't get your name." He says all this in a calm, matter of fact tone. It's really the best way he's found to talk about his own death - because otherwise it just gets weird, apparently.

[riversodeep]

Better and better.

"Andy. Mackenzie." Andy climbs into the driver's seat, motioning him to take a seat next to her. "And yeah, I'll say that temporary death thing is something we'll be looking not to repeat. Is the poor angel still alive?"

Temporary death. She can handle this. It's Chicago. It could be worse. She could have a ward that turns into a chipmunk or something.

[definitivestep]

Sam slides into the seat with a sigh. At some point, this sort of thing happening in his life became normal, and that can't be a good sign. "Yes, he's still alive," he says, slightly annoyed. "We're taking care of him." We being Torchwood, obviously. Even if Sam hasn't been around him much. He's a little concerned his presence might make things worse.

[riversodeep]

"Sorry. Instinct." She starts the ambulance, flipping on the lights but not the sirens. Also, I'd rather like to know what your track record on killing guardian angels is. She doesn't say that part. "Well, of the two of us, you might actually have more experience at this," she says. "You'll be my first ward. Hopefully I'll be the only other guardian angel you'll ever need."

...nor will she say the part about I hope you don't make a habit of getting hit by whatever hit you either.

"You'd probably better tell me now whether you're in any sort of combat position. I worked as a field medic for the US Army for a deployment, so feel free not to soften the news."

[definitivestep]

Oh, this is a fun question to answer. "I used to be a police officer. Here..." He glances over at her. She can probably guess the answer to this. "I'm head of Torchwood Four. You've seen the sort of things we have to deal with, although usually it's not quite... like that." Thane was on the far end of the unpleasantness scale.

He pauses, and then... well, there a few things it seems only fair to tell her. "I've been in Chicago a year, and I've been shot, thrown into walls, attacked by things from the Rift, the target of an assassination attempt by archangels, and at the battle of the Main Gauche." Another pause. "Also, it hurts when people lie to me."

CONGRATULATIONS ON YOUR NEW WARD, ANDY.

[riversodeep]

Andy will not crash the ambulance into a tree to put an end to this madness. Andy will not ask how within a year one manages to become a target for archangels in the bloodiest angels-versus-demons fight the Chicago area has recently seen. Andy will not call Mac and give her any reason to tie her ward to a chair and lock him in a basement somewhere. Andy has this all under control.

"Okay. So, your job description is probably enough to get me hazard pay from the Guardian Grants Society, good to know. At least reassure me that you don't make it a habit of getting hit by cars; my favor pool with the local healing angels will wear down real quick."