I hate hospitals.

I know I've said it before and I'll say it again.

I hate them.

I hate the smell of chemicals and latex gloves, the sterile white rooms, and most of all, I hate the lab coats.

I scowled. I shouldn't even be here. One clipped wing and its all "Oh, we need to get you to the hospital!" Yes, it hurt like hell, but a hospital? It seemed unnecessary.

I wished I could go see Dr. Martinez instead. She already knows about us. Despite our recent "Saving the World" shenanigans, nobody really knows who we are or how to help us. But Dr. Martinez and my friend Ella were far away, back in the States. We were all the way in England, if you can believe that.

I smiled a bit, thinking of my Flock. Fang had carried me here, with a little help from Iggy. Angel had held my hand the entire way, bless her heart. Nudge hadn't stopped talking to me for the whole flight, but hey, that's just Nudge. Gazzy had even grabbed lunch. Bonus!

The door to my little room opened and the doctor who had treated me stepped in, followed by another woman in a lab coat. Ugh, whitecoats. Out of habit and instinct, I braced myself for flight, both metaphorical and literal. The doctor nodded formally to me, then came to the bedside to examine my bandaged wing. The woman sat in a stool by me.

"When can I get out of here?" I asked, not really hiding the bitterness in my voice.

"When you've fully recovered," answered the preoccupied doctor. "One week, maybe two."

"So, like, tomorrow." I muttered. We all regenerate pretty quickly.

The woman I hadn't met leaned forward and whispered, "Possibly sooner." She smiled as if we had just shared a secret.

I blinked in surprise. She hadn't even ogled my wings when she came in, unlike everyone else I've ever shown them to, besides the Flock, of course. Did she know something…?

Soon the doctor was satisfied with the condition of my damaged wing. He left without another word, leaving me alone with the stranger.

She was actually quite pretty. Her skin was like Nudge's, smooth and chocolaty-brown. Her dark hair was pulled up in a bun, but not a tight, stern old lady bun. More like a loose, fun kind of bun. If that's possible.

"Max?" She said.

I nodded.

"I'm Doctor Martha Jones. There's someone I think you should meet."