MARIEL

25~Room 207~

Phil tapped softly on the hospital room door, 207, and leaned his head forward to listen for a response. He heard a soft murmur in the room and approaching footsteps. The handle turned and Todd stood in the doorway.

"Oh! Hi, Phil, good to see you. You okay?"

Awkwardly, his pride still reeling from seeing Fr. Jerome awaken without his help, Phil nodded. "Yes. You attended my wife's funeral, so I figured it would only be fair if I visit your son. Is he awake? May I come in?"

Todd stepped aside. "Of course. Hawk, it's Phil. He came to say hi."

Phil walked into the room and winced at the sight of the teenage boy, who was wrapped completely in casts. His face was multiple different colors from excessive bruising. He locked eyes with the boy, and Hawk's brown eyes followed him as he walked past the hospital bed. Hawk's head did not move... it could not move.

"Hello, bud," he said, stepping past Mary who sat dozing on the cot. Phil approached the bed, careful to avoid touching Hawk. "Rough week, huh?"

Hawk's eyes glinted at him. "To put it lightly," he said softly.

Phil nodded in agreement. "It's been a horrible week for me too, losing my wife and all that." He twiddled his thumbs. "Anything I can do to help?"

A tear trickled from Hawk's eye and down his bruised cheek. "No."

Nervously, Phil gnawed the corner of his mouth and turned to look at Todd and Mary. "Be honest. When is the last time you two got any decent sleep, hmm?"

Todd glanced at his wife, who dozed peacefully on the chair. He shrugged. "Been a minute." He tried to laugh but found he could not.

Phil glanced at Hawk, and then back at Todd. His blood pressure was still high from Mariel pulling him into the restroom, slamming him against the wall, and making him promise once more that he would attempt to heal Hawk. He had, of course, agreed. He had not wanted to risk the pain of more fingers broken. "Why don't you guys both go home and sleep? I'll stay with Hawk."

Todd's eyes brightened and he sat up in his chair, and then slumped his shoulders again and shook his head. "It's okay, Phil, we'll be fine. We really appreciate it, though."

Phil stared at him. "Please. It would mean a lot a me and," he feigned sobs, "I can't spend the night in that house. Not without Carolyn. Let me do this favor."

Todd touched the arm of his sleeping wife. He looked at Hawk. "You alright with that, kiddo?"

Hawk was asleep. He remained upright in his casts, his eyes shifting back and forth beneath his eyelids. Taking that as a response, Todd rose to his feet and lightly shook Mary until she awakened with a grunt.

"We're going home to sleep tonight, Mary," he whispered. "Phil offered to stay with Hawk."

Eyes heavy with sleep, Mary looked at Todd and then her eyes fell upon Phil. "Oh," she said softly. "Okay... are you sure about this, Phil?"

"Yes. I would be saddened if you didn't allow me. Hawk is like a nephew to me."

Mary stood and stretched. "I suppose it'll be nice to have a night in our own bed. Thank you, Phil. Thanks so much."

A slow smile crept across Phil's mouth. "My pleasure. Tell Esther hello for me."

Todd and Mary Caravan kissed their son and then left. They had advised the hospital staff of the arrangement, and made sure Phil understood to call them if any issues arose. Phil promised, and they left him in the room alone with the sleeping teenager.

Phil pulled up a chair and sat beside the bed. "Hawk." He whispered the name. "Hawk," he said a little louder. "Are you awake?"

Hawk did not open his eyes. A small snore escaped his lips.

Phil rested his hands on the bed railing. "When you wake up," he whispered, "you'll be very confused. Very happy. But perhaps a little frightened. Embrace the feelings but understand that this is from God." He paused, looked at his trembling hands, and then reached for Hawk.

A knock on the door startled him and he withdrew his hand. A large, female nurse hustled into the room with pills in hand, smiling at Phil. "Time for his meds," she whispered, coming towards the bed. "How long has he been sleeping?"

Phil tightened his lips, trying to control his face as annoyance crept in. "He really needs sleep. He just finally got to sleep too. Do we really need to wake him up?"

The nurse glanced at the clock and then at Hawk, then back at Phil. "Hmm. Well, these are for his pain. I don't want to him to wake up in horrible pain, you know."

Phil extended his hand. "I'll give them to him. I'll give him about ten more minutes and then I'll make sure he takes them."

The nurse seemed satisfied with the arrangement. "Alright! Here you go! Poor guy." She looked at Hawk and put a hand over her heart. "Okay. Call if you need anything."

Impatiently, Phil nodded and watched as the nurse left the room and closed the wide, wooden door. He turned his attention immediately back to Hawk, who was still sleeping. He waited a moment to see if anyone else would enter the room, but after a minute, no one did.

He approached the bed again and stopped. It was like deja vu, but this time with a child instead of Fr. Jerome. Phil's body went cold at the thought. Somehow, some way, Fr. Jerome knew. But, at this point, did it matter? The messenger of God clearly gave him instructions to use his gift. It was only a matter of time before everyone knew.

However, within his church, he felt it necessary to remain under the radar until he could ensure he could present himself as a leader of the church... not a heretic. And he was sure some would think of him as such. But, as he outstretched his hands, he knew in the end it would not even matter. He, alone, had this gift and, with it, eventually it would be -

"Time to change the world," Hawk murmured in his sleep.

Phil retreated a little, and then with sudden vigor, grasped Hawk's face. The boy's eyes flew open and, as terror entered his eyes, he tried to speak. "What - are you doing?"

"It's time to change the world," Phil hissed, grasping his face a little harder. "Sleep now."

Recognition of the statement filled Hawk's eyes and panic crept over his face. His eyelids fluttered shut as Phil felt the cold release of healing through his fingers. Jameson fell back, gasping, but the boy had fallen back asleep. For a moment, Phil stared as if expecting Hawk to come awake and begin moving. But the boy lay there, still immobile from sleep, so Phil left.

The bright lights of the hospital stunned his eyes as he left the room. He walked down the hallway, his eyes shifting as nurses and doctors walked past him. An old woman wheeled past him in a wheelchair and he reached out, brushed his fingers against her forehead. A young woman, coughing hysterically, shuffled towards Phil and he touched her arm as she passed him. A middle-aged man on crutches limped towards him, and tripped. Phil caught him, grasping his arms tightly and staring into the patient's eyes.

"Thank you," the man said, and bent, on instinct, to retrieve his crutches.

Phil had already walked away. His eyes were set to the elevator down the hall from where he walked. The doors opened and a bloody patient lay on the bed the nurses wheeled towards Phil. Blood was caked over his face and the white cloths on his body were stained and wet with blood.

As the bed passed him, Phil touched the patient.

Someone shrieked. And as he entered the elevator, he turned towards the screams of confusion, happiness, and fear. Doctors and nurses ran about, trying to control the healed patients as they bounded throughout the hall in shock and happiness. Happily, the man on crutches sprinted back and forth, waving his arms in circles. The bloody patient who, no longer bloody, had been in the bed bounded joyfully from it, his face shocked and excited. Then, Phil heard one last scream... a scream from Room 207.

"Nurse! Nuuuuuurse! I can move!"

As the elevator doors closed, Phil smiled.