When Zahir had received the call from Nick apologising for his absence from the house, he'd initially been shocked that the half-fae somehow pissed off an angel enough to earn a heavenly beat down. He'd taken a moment to get of the shock before making sure to find out which hospital the teenager was staying at. Bobby, who had been trying to listen to the conversation, tugging at his father's hand and asking how Nick was the minute his father hung up. That call occurred on a Wednesday night. The soonest they could visit Nick was on the Saturday. Zahir made sure to call ahead to make sure they knew when visiting hours were. In the days following, Bobby made what he considered the perfect 'Get Well Soon' card. He'd covered his bedroom in a fine layer of confetti, which of course had to be cleaned up before his father would let him visit Nick.

The Saturday of the visit, Zahir stopped by his parents place to get thermos of his mother's special soup that she made whenever one of her children were sick. She always seemed to have a pot ready even before one of them started to show symptoms. The word from his siblings had been that the youngest of the brothers had come down with influenza, so Zahir knew his mother would have a pot of her soup going right up until her youngest was better. Of course, he'd had to wrangle a thermos out of her for a non-family member, but having Bobby with him certainly made things easier.

So, thermos in hand, father and son made their way to the hospital where Nick was staying. Bobby insisted on getting Nick a teddy bear from the hospital shop, picking out the biggest one his father would allow him to buy. A nurse showed them to the young fae's room, reminding them not to wear the young man out. Bobby let go of his father's hand, running over to Nick's bedside.

"Hi Nick. I made you this card," the little boy informed him, holding out the card he'd made. Beside Zahir, the nurse grinned.

"I'll leave you guys to it," she said, before turning and leaving the room. Zahir followed Bobby over to Nick's bedside, a small grin curling his lips.

"How's hospital treating you Nick?" he asked, placing the thermos on the bedside table.

Nick was completely and utterly exhausted. He’d taken to walking small circuits with the aid of his crutches, despite the less than happy looks he got from his nurses. But if he didn’t at least try to move about, he started to feel completely depressed. No amount of TV or magazines could console him, and every time the doctor came in the room he felt worse than when he’d began. It had two really good things for him – his walks nearly always left him sleepy, and he felt like he was actually able to do what he wanted. Of course, his doctor wasn’t happy, and his nurses thought he was a troublemaker, but whatever. He didn’t do anything wrong, he just hated being cooped up.

Must be a fairy thing.

Still, when he slipped in to his bed, and found himself ready to go back to sleep, one of his nurses – one of the nicer ones, at least, checked in on him, and told him he had visitors. Almost instantly he perked up, though he was still feeling like he should probably be asleep soon. But visitors were exciting and always made him really, really happy. So far, Anthony and a couple of his friends made it in to visit, and he always felt better afterwards.

To his surprise, it was Zahir and Bobby, though, and when the boy and his father came in, Nick couldn’t help but smile. He liked the Al-Suyutis a bunch, and he had not really been expecting to see either of them here.

“Aw, you didn’t have to do that, Bobby! But thanks.” He said, offering him a smile and a fist-bump of approval. He took the little card and examined it, rather excited by it. It looked like more than a ten minute card, and who was he to look down at that? Besides. Confetti rocked.

He waved the nurse on, as she gave her blessing. She could have easily banned guests, since he’d taken his little walk for the day. Luckily, she hadn’t – like he said, she was nice.

Still, despite the fact that he was up and at’em, out of his coma, he knew he looked horrible. He didn’t want to scar anyone for life, and with his interestingly-colored face, he could do it. Most of the swelling had gone down, leaving him mottled and scratched. His split lip was healing nicely, though, and so long as he kept applying lip balm, it didn’t open up any more. Shaking his head absently, he scooted to the side so Bobby could take a seat up there with him, if he wanted. The room only had one chair, and he knew how much Zahir’s leg bothered him.

“Not so bad. They don’t have real food, and my doctor is a giant d—“ He coughed, when he realized he should probably keep his language G. Of course, the one fake cough hurt like hell and prompted more coughs, which only hurt more. Despite the meds, when he did stupid things like that he felt it. After a good ten seconds of ridiculous pain, he managed to get it under control, reaching for his cup of water. Ow.

“Um. Giant doctor…” He amended, but he figured Zahir would figure it out. “But other than that, it’s fine. I met this orderly who’s pretty awesome, and a couple of my nurses are great.” Nick shifted in his bed, glad for the pillow behind his back. “How about you guys? Surviving without me?” He tried to make it happy and upbeat, to the best of his abilities.

“Aw, you didn’t have to do that, Bobby! But thanks.”

Bobby grinned happily, returning the fist-bump. Cards always seemed to make things better, especially when they were hand made. When he'd got his appendix out last year, all his friends from school wrote cards and brought them to the hospital. Besides, the room was kind of boring and the card actually made it look kind of homey. When Nick scooted over, the little boy climbed up onto the bed. Zahir gratefully took a seat in the room's only chair, setting his cane on the floor. The weather was playing havoc with his bad leg.

The conversation soon turned to how Nick was. Zahir had to keep himself from wincing every time he looked at Nick. The poor kid had been beaten black and blue by... well, apparently it was an angel. By all accounts, Zahir wasn't what many would call a religious man. Up until this point, he had never believed in angels. Everything he'd ever heard at school suggested angels were supposed to be kindly, caring creatures. Apparently the reality was very, very different. Bobby made a face as he got a close look at Nick's bruises.

“Not so bad. They don’t have real food, and my doctor is a giant d— Um. Giant doctor… But other than that, it’s fine. I met this orderly who’s pretty awesome, and a couple of my nurses are great. How about you guys? Surviving without me?”

Bobby giggled when Nick nearly said a bad word, although it sounded high-pitched and forced. He bit his lip, looking over at his father. Zahir managed a small smile, watching Nick with concern. The older warlock shrugged, sharing a look with Bobby.

"We've been coping. Had a find someone new to replace you for a while..." Zahir explained, not at all surprised when his son interrupted him.

"She makes me pray before bed and say 'grace', Nick! It's horrible!" the little boy interjected.

"But she understands that this is a temporary thing."

Bobby shifted a little on the bed, looking at Nick's bruises, resisting the urge to reach out and touch them. The little boy bit his lip, looking down at his hands. He felt awkward asking Nick a question that was probably very stupid.

"Hey Nick... does it hurt? I mean... the bruises. Are you going to have to get a cane like Dad?" he asked, looking up at the older teenager.

He could practically see the desire to reach out and touch him in the little boy's face, and he was grateful he restrained himself even that little bit. The pain meds helped, but even they had their limits, and his drug-induced haze was nearing the end of its effectiveness. But he was managing - he didn't like the foggy feeling... but at the same time, he didn't like the pain, either. He grinned a bit, though it was an annoying thing. His lips could easily bleed if he smiled too wide, so it looked as restrained as the boy next to him.

Still, he shifted slightly in the bed, trying to get some of the discomfort out of his system. The side effects were less annoying than the actual pain, so he would deal with it.

"At least she knows." He smiled. "Don't worry. It'll take more'n a few broken bones to keep me out of the game." Bravado. Not an outright lie, but it was certainly not a whole truth, either. He wouldn't stop being active in life because of this, but he was definitely rethinking his 'be a supernatural creature' part of life. Ah well, Bobby probably wouldn't be able to sense that, since it was mostly true.

Who knew, though?

Then again, he glanced absently at Zahir, who might just be able to feel it out. After a second, though, Bobby's question was out, and Nick turned his gaze back to the little boy. Originally, he was going to say that no, it didn't, but that would be a lie. True, right this instant he was okay - the pain meds were brilliant. But overall? Yeah, it hurt. And when he got out of bed, he could barely stand properly.

"It does." He said, softly. "But I've got a lot of people looking out for me. My dad works a couple of floors up, and he checks on me all the time. My brother visits me, and the nurses are great." He said, softly. "The doctor says I'll be fine in the long term." He offered. "I don't think I'll have to use a cane. Crutches for a while, probably, but just until I can walk around on it right." It was a concern for him, though, and one he didn't want to voice. He hoped his leg would mend properly, but the doctor told him it was a clean break.

Angels were precise, apparently.

He glanced at Zahir, and smiled. "Sorry, boss. Didn't mean to call in sick so quick. Promise I've got a doctors note." Trying to find humor in the whole thing.

"At least she knows. Don't worry. It'll take more'n a few broken bones to keep me out of the game."

This seemed to appease Bobby, for whom saying grace and praying to a God he didn't believe in was a grave injustice. To be honest, Zahir was just glad that Nick wasn't hurt too badly and that he was recovering pretty well. He'd sensed the partial lie, nothing in his expression betraying that he had. He didn't know the full story behind what had happened, but there was no doubt in his mind that Nick would have been freaked out by it. Besides, the supernatural world was a very terrifying place on occasion. The fact that Nick wasn't letting it get to him too badly showed a lot of character. Soon, Bobby turned the conversation towards Nick's bruises. The little boy didn't like when those he cared about got hurt in any way, and Nick was probably the only person he knew to have ended up in the hospital. Zahir had been a little surprised at the question about whether or not Nick would need a cane, his hand falling to his bad leg subconciously. He made a mental note to have a good long talk with his son about what had happened when they got home, quickly turning his attention back to Nick.


"It does. But I've got a lot of people looking out for me. My dad works a couple of floors up, and he checks on me all the time. My brother visits me, and the nurses are great. The doctor says I'll be fine in the long term. I don't think I'll have to use a cane. Crutches for a while, probably, but just until I can walk around on it right."

Bobby nodded, looking visibly relieved. He gave Nick a quick hug, pulling back just as quickly with a look of horror on his face.

"Sorry!" he yelped with a sniffle. Zahir hid a smile behind his hand, clearing his throat softly. Nick was definitely in capable hands, and he had the added bonus of his father working at the hospital. The warlock was briefly reminded of his own stint in hospital after the canine demon had mauled his leg. His older brother had visited whenever his busy schedule allowed it, and he remembered having at least one of his parents sitting with him during most of his stay. He'd protested at the time, since he was a grown man, but these days he was somewhat glad they had stuck around.

"Sorry, boss. Didn't mean to call in sick so quick. Promise I've got a doctors note."

Zahir chuckled, shaking his head slightly. Well, at least he had a sense of humour about the whole ordeal.

"Don't apologise, it's not your fault some homical angel decided to attack you," he replied with a slight shrug.

"I apologise for the lack of flowers, but we did bring some of my mother's cure-all soup. If anything, it should provide something better to eat than the disgusting hospital food."

Bobby made a face at the thermos, leaning close to Nick.

"Don't listen to him, Grandma's soup is disgusting!" he whispered loudly, ignoring the eye-roll he earnt from his father.

He hadn't been expecting it, and the hug caught him off guard. The pain came almost immediately on its coattails, and the wash of power from him had been a knee-jerk reaction to stimuli. He'd felt it build in an instant, and he could barely choke it back. Between the sharp pain in his ribs - he didn't have enough medicine to keep him from feeling a rib-check, even if it was just a quick hug from a ten year old. Still, the power was thrumming in his head, and was practically begging for release - to stop whatever it was from hurting him.

"No worries." A noncommital phrase that he managed between clenched teeth. He was hoping that since the word didn't really imply that he was okay, just that Bobby shouldn't worry, that it wouldn't be considered a lie. Either way, a few deep breaths, and he was able to get past it. Broken ribs weren't fun, and his were no different. He was just glad he hadn't set the room on fire, or blown out the walls, or something equally dramatic.

Bobby looked mortified, and Nick just shook his head at him, trying to put on a good smile.

His focus shifted to Zahir, who was letting him off the hook for missing out on work. He was glad - he knew that where one of his friends worked, if she missed a day, even with a doctor's note, she got massively chewed out. He had no desire for that to happen, and so his laid-back response made him feel better, even as it made him feel worse. Zahir was wrong - it was his fault the angel had come down. He wasn't going to say it out loud, or even acknowledge it at all, because...

Well, he hated the truth of it, and he didn't want Zahir to know.

Still, at the mention of anything other than hospital food, he had a full-blown grin again, the chest-impact completely forgotten for now. He couldn't help but hold back another little laugh, as Bobby advised him that secretly, the soup was gross. No matter what Bobby thought, hospital food was always worse. He didn't know how they managed to get away with it - but who was he to criticise the healing method?

Oh, right, someone who knew how to cook.

Shaking his head a bit, he smirked to Bobby. "Tell you what, when my dinner shows up, I'll totally trade for the soup. You tell me which is worse." He grinned back up to Zahir. "Thanks. I appreciate it." He did, too - sometimes food was the best medicine. Friends being with him helped, too.

"So, how's everything other than creep-- I mean, the nice lady who's substituting for me?" Smooth. Real smooth.