unconsciousness would be an undesirable outcome

[self_composed]

On Sunday, Bella drives to the movie theater with Angela in tow, and her car breaks on the way home from Angela's house. She calls a tow truck, and calls her dad, and she goes home in the cop car and her station wagon goes on vacation to the mechanic.

On Monday, Charlie drives Bella to school.

As she's been discharged from the car and Charlie pulls away, a van driven by a panicking teenager screams out of nowhere towards Bella.

Making wishes is easy.

It is not automatic. It is not instantaneous.

The van creams Bella, good and proper.

Comments

[edgeofyourseat]

"They letting her friends see her now?"

[self_composed]

"Yes, visitors' hours began a few minutes ago, but please be quiet and don't disturb anyone," says the receptionist. "Miss Swan is in room 306."

[edgeofyourseat]

"Thanks."

Up he goes.

[self_composed]

Bella is indeed in 306, a private room in which she's being administered an IV by a nurse. He glances at Alice and says, "Her left hand's basically okay. You can hold it if you want, but don't jostle her or put any pressure on her."

[edgeofyourseat]

"What-all's wrong with her?" he asks, unable to keep his eyes off the still figure on the bed.

[self_composed]

"Coma, various injuries," says the nurse. "I got other patients to get to." He hangs up the IV and departs.

[edgeofyourseat]

Okay. So.

What's that thing Bella said once? What does he want, and what does he have?

He wants a lot of things. Bella better, for one. That's easiest, but it's not going to happen without some things he doesn't have.

When she put that whole treasure chest's worth of coins on her necklace, she only used up one square to do it, right? He takes one of the sparkly squares out of his pocket, sits beside her bed, and wishes for: all the stars, hexes and pentagons on her necklace, off her necklace and visible and touchable and in his hands.

[self_composed]

Poof.

He has the fifteen pentagons and the one star in Elias's opal-hematite pattern.

And one glowy, red hex.

[edgeofyourseat]

He piles the rest in his lap, picks up the hex, closes his hand around it, and wishes himself wish powers.

Just to see, he bites the inside of his cheek. Moving the pain from left to right makes perfect sense, and then there is a square in his hand, made of something like black glass that seems to suck in all the light it touches and give it back only grudgingly, in tiny glimmers.

"Fuck," he mutters, and uses it to wish the star back onto Bella's necklace.

He still doesn't know what's wrong with her, besides 'wrecked to hell'. Well, what does he have? Sixteen pentagons. And what can pentagons do? They can make you good at things.

He picks one up, and makes a wish.

[self_composed]

Bella's chart says that she is 17 years old and female and named Isabella Marie Swan.

Also, in fancy medical language, it says she was hit by a fucking van.

Head trauma. Skull fracture possible; they're waiting for the radiologist to have a second look at the X-rays, and apparently Forks hospital only has a radiologist part-time. Certainly a break in the upper left and lower right arms and a few fingers. Left leg and foot shattered all to hell, one clean break in the right femur. At least three vertebral fractures, several broken ribs, dislocated shoulder. Oh, and she's in a coma.

[edgeofyourseat]

...heh. Left foot smashed up, huh? Now that's funny.

With the medical knowledge he wished himself, he now has a very complete picture of what it's like in there. Better to try too much first than too little, because the worst it can do is just quietly not work: he picks up a pentagon and wishes her fixed.

[self_composed]

The pentagon continues to exist. Apparently it's not quite up to that.

[edgeofyourseat]

Okay.

Then it's piece by piece, and he knows what Bella would probably care about most. He wishes her head better first.

[self_composed]

A few visible scratches above her neck disappear, as the only observable sign.

Also her eyelashes flutter and she makes a small noise.

[edgeofyourseat]

Okay. Just to check, he tries to fix everything else. No dice.

Maybe it'll help if he wishes the pins out of her broken bones first. He can use a square for that.

[self_composed]

"Nnnnnng."

Bella is apparently waking up. She was unconscious; they didn't bother dosing her with painkillers.

[edgeofyourseat]

"Hi," he says. "I know it hurts, sorry, don't worry, I'm gonna fix it."

How about just her ribs and spine?

[self_composed]

A pentagon obligingly disappears. Bella takes a deep breath.

She opens her eyes and squints against the light.

"Heh," she says. "I don't remember. Did I get one?"

[edgeofyourseat]

"You did," he beams, "look—" and he bites his lip and shows her the triangle, with a sullen hint of red lurking for a moment in its black depths.

Then he tries fixing all the rest again, just to see.

[self_composed]

"Nice," she says, and she yawns. "Heh, you fixed me. I was getting a pentagon like every five seconds. Now I'm just tired."

She closes her eyes and opens them again. "Where's my dad?"

[edgeofyourseat]

"He went home," says Alice. "It's been a while. You want all these back?" He gestures to the pile of pentagons in his lap.

[self_composed]

She peers over at them. "Uh, maybe, I dunno, I have six new ones now... How are we going to explain this medical miracle?"

[edgeofyourseat]

"Well, it's not like I'm ever gonna need to borrow from you again," Alice says cheerfully. "Might as well keep 'em on your necklace for now, right? And I don't have a fucking clue, you're the smart one here. My brilliant plan for getting in here to see you was to wait for visiting hours and cry a lot."

[self_composed]

"Mkay." She squares the pentagons out of his lap. "Uh, hm. Medical miracle. Including pin-vanishing. Is my backpack in here? I dunno how big a coin I need to Jedi mind trick my dad and a bunch of doctors." She closes her eyes. "Plus my mom. He'd have called her."

[edgeofyourseat]

"Yeah," he says, and fetches said backpack.