Why was Wick at the hospital? Did he end up there by taking a wrong turn? Was he ill..?

Heck, no. He was just there because he could be.

The small faery was wandering the squeaky-clean tiled-floor halls, sticking close to the walls in case someone in a wheelchair should come along and run him over. Wheelchairs looked like fun, actually. He'd have liked to play with one if he was big enough.
"This place smells funny," he remarked to himself, in a musing whisper, "'N it's too quiet..."

It was giving him a creepy feeling of deja-vu, too, even if he'd never actually seen the inside of the hospital with his own two eyes. Suddenly, for no reason at all other than he was curious, he walked into one of the rooms. A shiver passed through him at feeling a warding spell pulling at him. It was telling him he'd forgotten something,... there was something he had to do right away, he had to leave and go do it...
And then the feeling passed. He stepped into the room.
Wick didn't have a single thing to do. On him, that spell was useless.

Alexander might have been asleep for a number of reasons, and so did not see Wick. The first was that Keye had attempted to enspell him. This was unlikely because Keye did not have the energy to spare, and if the spell had been successful, Alexander would probably have broken it and yelled at him for wasting the energy. The second was that the man was exhausted...it was obvious, just from looking at his face. The third, and most likely, was that Bo had slipped something a little soporific into that healing spell, with a time-release on it.

Keye had woken again only a few moments ago (he was sleeping fitfully, and not terribly well. Alexander had probably been enspelling him), yawning and shifting his eyes around the room...not that there was anything new to see. Never was.
Wait a second, what was that by the door?
"Wick?"

"Wha-?"
The small faery's head snapped up, looking for the source of the voice. For a fraction of a second, he was afraid it might be Violet, - then he realized it was a male voice. And an oddly familiar one, at that. He cautiously edged over towards the bed. Dr. Barclay was off to the side, asleep in a chair, so it wasn't him. He wouldn't have called me by name, anyway. He'd have said something like 'little monster' or something, Wick reflected, with a faint smirk.

"Oh, 's you! Hi!" Wick exclaimed, hazel eyes brightening as he recognized Keye, "What are you doing here?"
Not waiting for an answer, he agilely climbed up on the bed, ducking under tubes to make his way up to the pillow. It was difficult to stand on, so he just sat.
"Wow, you look a mess," he observed.

"Oh, probably dying..." he replied nonchalantly. "I am a mess. In fact, I'm not even a person anymore...just a mess."
You know, Wick's being here might have an odd effect: since the faery is less close to Keye than, say, Alexander, but still a friend, the boy might be more open with him.
After all, since Wick isn't that close, there's less to hurt should he break away...whereas if Alexander abandoned him, his heart would break entirely.
Alexander wouldn't abandon him of course...but this is just the way Keye thinks.

"Are you joking?" Wick said looking at him curiously, "'Cause if you're joking, it's not a very funny joke... Acshully, you're making me sad."

He shifted around, leanng back, his innocent-looking eyes fixed on the human's face. "So, ya going to tell me what happened to you? You look like me that time I got almost killed, 'cept you look worse."

"I'm not joking."
A heavy sigh.
"Wick, he kept me for days and days..."
One of his hands twitched, and his face twisted. They were terrible memories.
"Tied up. He took me for walks, like a dog...I feel like nothing."

"Who?" he asked, looking alarmed. He poked Keye's cheek with a fingertip, "Who'd do that?... Y'know, I'd'a thought you were too big to be kept as someone's pet,... 's happened to me, and it's no fun at all."

He looked concerned for a moment, and worried. Wick didn't think that he was very good at this sort of thing - being nice to people in this way. He pulled himself up higher on the pillow, and started absently tying little intricate braids in Keye's hair. "Anyway, you can't be nothing. You're here, aren't you?"

"Crazy kid with weird black 'n' white hair..."
He flinched, even at Wick's tiny touch, paling even further.
Too big...
Shame set in.
"W...w...well, I...see...he did stuff...he didn't use his real hands..."
He was getting tearful. Oddly enough, it was only the second time since he'd been here.
"All right then, I'm not nothing. I'm a big, hideous lump of nothing much."

"That guy?" Wick exclaimed in an almost-squeaky voice, looking startled. "The same one who...? Oh,... I'm, - that's terrible..."
Note; Wick being truly sympathetic = once in a blue moon. The sympathy didn't last very long, though.

"You're being silly," Wick told him, not gaining any amusement or satisfaction from seeing him close to tears, "Don't just lie there feelin' sorry for yourself. It doesn't help."

"Well what'm I supposed to do?"
He sniffled.
"I can't move."
Come to think of it, Keye being stuck in a hospital bed is a recipe for disaster: he wouldn't be able to think of anything to do other than lying there feeling sorry for himself.

"Well, I can see that," Wick said. His deft fingers had already finished five strands of little braids, and he was working his way around, "I mean, okay, lie there. But feeling sorry for yourself, no. We can play a game or something, 'kay? What do you want to play?"

He was beginning to sound pretty cheery and lighthearted, "If you don't want to play, I can always sit here for another half hour and braid all your hair."

The braiding, what little he could feel, felt nice. He almost smiled.
"Wick, I don't feel like playing. I feel like shit."
Sigh. Damn that faery and his cuteness.
"...what game?"

"I don't know," he said thoughtfully, picking up another four strands of hair and winding them together skillfully, into what looked like Celtic knots, "Since you can't get up, we can't play tag. Or hide-and-seek,... or ,... well, we could play 'I spy'. You have any other ideas?"

"Ummmm...."
He chewed his lip, glancing around the room.
"I spy with my little eye something....black."

Wick continued toying with Keye's hair as he looked around the room. Something black, something black,...

"That guy's hair?" he said hopefully, nodding towards Alexander. "Is that it?"

"...yes."
Too easy. He made a face.
"Your turn."

He smirked to himself. About a quarter of the human's head was covered in the intricate little braids, now. He was very quick at this kind of work.

"I spy with my little eye something that is,... um,..." Wick peered around the room, looking for something that would be difficult, but not too difficult, "... It's blue."

"The tray with the water on it?"
Some of the deadness seemed to have drained out of his eyes. Wonder of wonders, he was having a good time.

"Yyyyup, right on. You got it!" he said gleefully, not at all troubled that he'd guessed it on his first try, "Okay, your turn again. Pick something more difficult."

He started humming softly as he played around with the little braids,... he'd done so many now, that he'd have to do the rest of the hair the same way just to balance it out.

"I'll try..." he frowned, looking around the room again. Hospital rooms didn't exactly have a lot of color.
"I spy with my little eye something...off-white."
Lot's of white, but less off-white. So ha.

"Off-white?" he wrinkled his nose, grumbling under his breath, "'S not a color..."

He looked around the room, trying to decide what counted as white and what counted as off-white.
"Is it the,... the floor-things? Tiles, I mean?"

"Nope!"
He grinned.
"Try again."

"Um,... off-white,..." he frowned, still looking around the room. What the hell was off-white?

"The trim on the walls?" he guessed.

"Noooo..."
Ha, I've got you, you little monster.

Wick frowned, his gaze flickering around the room as if following a very fast flying insect. He began untintentionally tugging at the braids as he tied them, absorbed in searching for whatever it was that Keye was talking about.

"Ceiling...?" he guessed, without much hope.

"Ow!"
A twitch. Keye started to tremble.
"Y...yes...it's th-the ceiling..."
It was actually the venetian blinds, but...

Yes, Keye is actually afraid of Wick.

He smirked at having guessed right (or at least at being allowed to believe he'd guessed right).

"Oops," Wick cringed at the sudden loud noise from Keye, "Sorry, didn't mean to pull. I'll be more careful..."
He toned down the movements until it was nearly impossible to notice or feel, even if he was working very fast. "...Hey, whatsa matter? Are you cold or something?"

"N-n-no..."
He was keeping his gaze away from Wick.
Suddenly, he realized that Wick's sharp little fingernails were perfect for gouging at eyes and scratching...
Nothing was safe, in his world. Nothing at all.

"Then what're you shaking for?" he inquired, not seeming to mind either way - it was just idle curiosity. He waded his way to the back of the human's head, and began twisting the strands of hair there into more of the pretty loops.

"N-n...no r-reason..."
And really, there was no reason. Wick hadn't meant to hurt him the first time, and wouldn't do it again...so what was there to be afraid of?
Nothing.
Keye was getting completely terrified about nothing.
How pathetic.

"So what, you just start shivering, out of the blue?" he said skeptically, abandoning his braiding to clamber over the back of Keye's head onto his forehead, to look into his face. To Keye, he would appear to be upside-down.
"That's dumb. What would you do that for, huh?... You sure you're not cold?

Keye didn't like Wick being on his face. It made him nervous. He closed his eyes tightly.
"I'm sure, j-just leave me alone..."

"Well, okay, but I think it's weird," Wick shrugged. He leaned over and flicked Keye's nose, then retreated to continue playing with the human's hair (which he found to be endlessly amusing). "I'm almost done,... hee,... this is gonna look ,... interesting, when I've finished."

He flinched when Wick flicked his nose, whimpering. Beyond that, he made no sound.

Wick stopped braiding again, looking confused. He chewed on his lower lip for a few moments, deep in thought, before he slid back to his previous place on the pillow, by the side of Keye's face.

"Something's the matter and you're not telling me," he said plaintively, almost whining. He poked the human's cheek with a fingertip, careful not to scratch him. "So tell me already. I don't like secrets."

"I..." he wrung his hands. "...I'm scared. It's so stupid, I mean, no offense, but you're like this big. But I'm scared. I feel so dumb."

"That is pretty silly," Wick agreed, after a moment. Ordinarily, he'd be pleased to know that someone thought he wasn't an adorable cutesy fluffy thing,... but this was different. He wanted to be taken seriously (on occasion); he didn't want anyone to be actually frightened of him.
...
Well, he'd want Dave to be frightened of him.
But not Keye.

"You're right, I'm,.. well, way smaller 'n you. What could I do to you? Look at me!" he said in a teasing tone, giving the human the most innocent look his baby-face could have, "I'm tiny, I'm -"
Didn't want to say this, but did-
"Pretty much helpless, harmless, you name it. Now is that any reason to be scared?"

"Well, y'know...your fingernails are pretty sharp, and if you put your two hands together, you could probably take out most of an eyeball..."
He frowned, blushing...how could he be afraid of such a little thing.
"I don't know why..."

"Ewwwww, gross! I'd never do that, that's just - yuck," he said, sounding disgusted. He wrinkled his nose, "No, really, that's just icky..."

He shook his head to dispel the unpleasant mental images that idea had just conjured up.

"... If you don't know why, then just think of why not," he said, as if it was the simplest thing in the world.

Keye had to chuckle slightly at Wick's exaggerated reaction.
"Well...all right. I'll try, anyway."
That's the second time Wick's helped him out in the space of half an hour, you know.
"Thanks, Wick."