Chapter 15 Poignant Moments at Thirty Thousand Feet.

The baby was finally taking a nap on the seat beside Meg. His blond curls hung in precious ringlets, defying gravity with heavenly helices.

He'd had a hard time during takeoff, crying tearlessly through the cabin pressure changes, and Meg had held him until he calmed down. Creed sat beside Meg and the baby, offering the little boy gentle pats on the back. Meg had to keep from staring in awe when, to her complete surprise, Creed began humming a vaguely familiar, lullaby-like tune. His beautiful baritone vibrated through the notes in a soothing, mesmerizing way that even made Meg feel sleepy.

Evan was determined to get some fluids into the little boy. His dehydration was so severe; the on-board doctors were worried he was going to start suffering organ failure and, to be fair, they really needed to focus their attentions on Mom.

Feeling helpless when it came to what was happening to her mother; Meg focused all her attention on the little boy in her arms. Creed found exactly what they needed in the galley: a sports drink and a straw.

After stroking his face with a cool cloth until he'd relaxed, Meg took the straw and dipped it into the bottle of orange flavored sports drink held by Creed's large, caring hands. She placed her finger over the straw to capture the fluid then brought it to the baby's lips, coaxing him to open just enough to let the droplets into his mouth.

She tried not to smile when she glanced at Creed watching the baby's face so intently, willing the little guy to drink, that he was opening his own mouth and closing his lips around an imaginary straw. Meg's heart swelled with love in her chest for the gentle giant Creed turned out to be.

With persistence and patience, Meg and Creed continued this way, droplet after droplet, gently forcing the little boy to replenish electrolytes while hydrating him. After an hour, they got six ounces of the sports drink into him, but the effort was so exhausting to the little fellow, he'd fallen into a deep sleep.

Meg watched his long, blond lashes curl up and away from his closed lids. His lips didn't look quite so chapped and dry. His breathing and heartbeat sounded much healthier, even to Meg's untrained ears.

"Six ounces of fluid is a start," Meg whispered to Creed.

"Little man did good," Creed grinned at the baby's angelic face.

"Thank you for your help, Creed. You're a natural." She smiled widely over the baby's sleeping head.

"A natural what?" Creed asked, cocking his head as though truly unsure how amazing he was with the child.

A hot blush curled up Meg's neck and settled to burn her ears. "I just mean, you're really great at taking care of him," she stammered.

"Me? I didn't do anything a cup holder couldn't have done," Creed shrugged humbly. "You are the 'natural' here."

Meg, who had been staring at the baby's sleeping face, looked up to see Creed's dark blue eyes watching her with an expression of awe. Meg didn't have to be an empath to know what he was feeling; it was written all over his face.

"I like watching you care for him." Creed's pupils couldn't have gotten any wider as though they wanted to swallow the image before him whole. Though Meg was sure her hair was a rat's nest of crazy dark curls flopping out of her errant pony holder, she had fresh cuts on her face compliments of the rose bushes back at the Facility, her clothes were covered in dirt and her hand was still sporting the torn swatch off his T-shirt, when Creed looked at her she felt like the most beautiful girl on earth.

His love gave her body strength, gave her empath skills wings and gave her soul peace.

Meg felt her love for the man sitting beside her well up in her throat until she had to swallow the tears of sheer joy he made her feel. She knew now wasn't the time. Taking her lower lip between her teeth she gnawed thoroughly to bring her feet back to the ground.

Without another word, she turned back to the baby and started to stand. Gently, she moved to lay the little boy across two seats. Reading her intent, Creed reached to quickly lift the armrest between the seats.

In the overhead compartment, Meg found what she was looking for: a Sleeper Sleeve. She liked the fact that she could slip on the pillow and either lean on it or use it as a sleeping cushion. She found them on the last two flights they'd booked and had become accustomed to their versatility. Meg lifted the little boy's head and slipped the Sleeper Sleeve under him. The blanket up there wasn't nearly as soft as the special pillow, but it would have to do. Creed carefully adjusted the airflow of the vents to provide the perfect amount of comfort to the sleeping child.

Now that he was resting with some fluids in his system, Meg felt as if she could finally take a moment for herself. After a quick run to the miniature airplane restroom to freshen up, she made her way back to Evan and Sloan.

Alik, Farrow and Creed were already leaning against the cabin walls in the galley way where they'd laid her makeshift gurney on the floor and wedged pillows around her to cushion without interrupting the rigged version of "traction" they'd created.

Alik's face was pale.

He and Farrow had been keeping vigil by Mom from the moment they carried her onto the plane. No one obeyed the seat belt rules and after a stern discussion, the pudgy older woman who acted as their flight attendant gave up trying to force compliance, especially after taking one look at Maze's protective stance around the sick woman they'd brought on board.

"How is she?" Meg asked in a soft voice. The baby was sleeping only four rows up and she didn't want to startle him, though the rumbling of the plane itself provided plenty of white-noise blocking other sounds efficiently.

Evan had been crouched over their mother, his stethoscope listening to her heart. A worried expression seemed permanently etched into his young face making him look so much more than thirteen-years-old.

"She's a fighter." He said cryptically while sitting back and rubbing his face with both hands-a sure sign he wasn't telling them everything.

He turned his head and looked up at his older sister. His eyes were rimmed with red, probably from both exhaustion and unshed tears. He slowly shook his head sending her his true level of concern for their mother through their empath connection.

Tears welled up in Meg's eyes instantly. Sensing her distress, Maze inched closer to Meg and leaned his ample, muscular body against her legs. With an efficient nuzzle of his head he had Meg rubbing his ears-soothing them both.

Watching the exchange between brother and sister made Sloan's chest hurt. Trying to distract herself, she gathered a few supplies and walked the few steps toward Creed.

"We may as well clean you up, soldier." She nodded to his bloodstained side.

When Creed didn't move, Sloan found herself searching his face for a hint at what he was thinking. He had to slouch over a lot to fit in any sort of standing position on the plane. She wondered what it would be like to have to duck to fit places. As a petite girl, she'd never had that problem.

"Well? Please sit down and remove your shirt, Mr. Young."

Creed sighed deeply and pulled his massive hands out of his front pockets. He shrugged out of the stained shirt and sat, complying with the little doctor's orders.

Meg tried not to watch, but Creed's chest was so chiseled, it was a thing of beauty. Even the gash where the bullet entered his skin just seemed to add to the sexiness Creed had no idea he wielded with mind numbing precision.

Wow, Meg. Get a grip. Now is no time to be ogling the poor guy. We have enough going on without you getting all sappy and smitten, she scolded herself.

Sloan was good. She had the bullet removed, checked for internal damage, the site cleaned, and sutured all inside ten minutes.

While she worked, everyone talked in hushed tones.

"I used the inflight emergency kit to supplement my medical bag." Evan explained as he double checked the rate of flow in his mother's IV. "Thank God I thought to throw in a couple bags of IV fluid and tubing. I have also given her a broad spectrum antibiotic that I'm hoping will help keep infection at bay." Evan shook his head sadly. "If only I had an operating room at my disposal," he said wistfully.

"You're doing everything you can, Ev. You didn't do this to Mom," Alik reassured his little brother.

"Alik's right, Evan. No matter what, we're doing what Mom would have wanted us to do. We got everyone we could out of that horrible place. We helped Sloan exile and rescued the little boy-Danny Boy!" she blurted, snapping the fingers of her good hand. Her brothers looked up at her like she'd gone momentarily mad.

"That was the tune you were humming earlier," Meg's face brightened at the memory of Creed's handsome voice.

Sloan was securing a bandage in place when Creed shrugged. "It's one of the few songs I remember my brother whistling when we were kids."

"It's perfect," Meg smiled.

"I'd like to call the little guy 'Danny.' No doubt he's only ever been called by his meta number. He needs a name. Danny Winter."

Evan and Alik smiled at their sister's exuberance. "We're adopting him." Alik said matter-of-factly-the smile widening across his handsome, exhausted face.

"Of course, we are."

"Um, don't you want to talk to your mom before you make such an important decision," Farrow asked logically.

"Are you kidding?" all three Winter kids said simultaneously.

Creed couldn't help but chuckle at them.

"Mom will be upset that we only have one new addition to our family. She's going to be very worried about the other eleven still out there."

Meg frowned as she thought back to the empath vision she received when racing out of the hospital. The children had been sequestered somewhere off site. They were taken by Williams himself to a new location. Meg knew she needed to concentrate and send her empath feelers out to try to locate them, but she was too exhausted after working with Danny over the past couple hours. She'd been feeding him not just the sports drink, but soothing waves of her gift and though it no longer made her pass out from the effort, thanks to her learning how to receive strength from her family (especially Creed), after the hours of concentration she was very tired. And though she would only admit it to herself, she was also somewhat weakened. It took some energy to open to Creed's connection, and right in that moment, she was too exhausted to try.

"Farrow and I are going to head up front for a little rest. Call if you need me to take a turn keeping watch over Mom, okay?" Alik was still looking pale and if Meg had enough strength, she would have been asking him all sorts of questions about how he was feeling. Evan had been too busy trying to stabilize their mom to look closely at his brother's pained face.

"Sure, brother," Evan said without looking away from his work on Meg's hand. "We probably could all use a good week of uninterrupted sleep after last night."

"Amen, that," Alik muttered. He walked away, holding his sides. Evan and Sloan agreed he had several cracked ribs from the beating the soldiers gave him. Since the ribs seemed to be in alignment, there was nothing more to be done. Alik was going to have to heal on his own.

Even metahumans take a little time to heal.

Chapter 16 No Pain, No Pain.

Meg sighed and leaned heavily against Creed, watching Alik walk hunched over just as much from the low aircraft ceiling as his pain-filled chest. Feeling her soldier's arms wrap around her waist, Meg didn't bother to resist when Creed pulled her gently into his lap.

He leaned his head down and whispered so only she could hear. "It's your turn to be held."

How he knew she was struggling to stay on her feet, Meg didn't know, but she was thankful for his strong arms around her while she allowed herself to drift in thought, only half listening to the others talk.

"I should really clean your hand, Meg. You may need stitches," Sloan offered, hesitantly.

Meg had washed her hand and rewrapped it with a fresh towel after her visit to the restroom. "Okay," she sighed, unconcerned with her hand as her mind raced to think of something she was sure they forgot.

Sloan unwrapped her hand and studied the torn flesh with the calculating eyes of a doctor before announcing, "Yes, you definitely need stitches. Do you want Evan to do it or are you okay with me?"

Meg frowned at Sloan, unintentionally receiving an empath reading from her as she held Meg's oozing hand in her gloved one.

Sloan was worried. She was sure she'd be judged for knowing about the test children at the Facility, and doing nothing to help them before now. Meg could also read how exhausted she was.

Before Meg could answer, Evan stepped up. "Thanks Sloan, I'll take care of Meg. You go ahead and rest for a while. We may as well take turns at Mom's side. I'll take first watch."

"Are you sure?" the young doctor asked, though relief was clear in her tired voice.

"Absolutely. Go find a quiet seat and rest. I'll come get you in two hours, and we'll trade places." Evan offered the girl a tired smile, encouraging her to do as he suggested.

Sloan nodded once, pursing her lips together in a tight smile before making her way back toward the front of the plane.

Evan turned to gather some materials before moving back to his sister and started cleaning the cut in her hand with an antiseptic that stained her skin orange.

"What's on your mind?" he asked his sister in a soft voice.

"Was it that obvious?" she sighed. "Sorry, a thought just occurred to me."

However tired Evan was, his doctor's hands moved with skill and precision, always gentle, always efficient, as though they had their own energy reserve from the boy to which they belonged.

"What thought?" Creed asked.

"Well, what did Sloan think was going on at the hospital? She's a smart girl. She must have known more than she acted on." Meg watched the orange antiseptic seep into the deep cut still oozing blood with every movement of her hand. "And just now, when she touched my hand, I got the very distinct reading that she's terrified of something."

"Of what?"

"I didn't have the stren...I mean I didn't have enough time to delve deeper than the most obvious emotion she was feeling."

"You think Sloan was part of the machine that performed tests on the children there?" Creed was frowning, a worry line pressed across his wide forehead.

"I don't know, but it would make sense that she would have at least knew of the testing. Don't you think?"

Creed was chewing the inside of his cheek, deep in thought.

"Hey Meggie, I don't have a local pain killer. Are you going to handle the stitches without it?" Evan was trying to focus on his task at hand, though his sister's words worried him more than he would have thought they would.

She swallowed hard. "How many stitches do you think I'll need?"

"You need at least six, maybe seven. I would offer you butterfly bandages if the gash were at a less movable location, but on the palm, yeah, you definitely need stitches here. I think I'll opt for the simple interrupted suture technique." Evan seemed to say the last part to himself as he turned to gather his curved needle holder and thumb forceps, surgical thread.

Meg sighed deeply too tired to think. "Okay little brother. But if you're upset at me about anything, you'd better not take it out on my raw hand, or I'll just have to kick your butt."

Evan smiled at the touch of that feistiness usually such a big part of his sister's personality.

Having prepared completely, needle poised and ready, he glanced at Creed for moral support when he said, "Okay, you'll feel a little pinch, Meg. Sorry. I'll be as gentle and quick as I can be."

Meg curled up against Creed's wide chest, still sitting in his lap. Her hand was resting on the tray table Evan had set up as a makeshift surgical table.

His fingers worked carefully, but the pain of the needle piercing her already angry flesh was enough for her to see stars. Creed leaned over her, pressing his forehead to Meg's wishing he could give her the strength for pain tolerance that seemed to come so naturally for him.

"Almost done," Evan breathed. Meg's left hand was clenched into a white-knuckled grip, her jaw locked and eyes squeezed shut. Just as Evan was positioning the last stitch, the plane pitched violently.

"Ahh!" Meg screamed as Evan's fingers jabbed the curved needle in her deeply.

The vibrations in the cabin persisted, worsening. Evan turned to check his mother, making sure nothing was going to fall on her or cause her to move.