and then she'd say, 'it's okay, i got lost on the way, but i'm a supergirl and supergirls don't cry'

[regenerated]

Up until now, everything's been easy. As strange as it might be for most people to imagine, Claire Bennet's leap off the Compound has been the best thing that's happened to her yet on Tabula Rasa. Maybe it isn't the healthiest— after all, where the leap from the Compound was supposed to help her shed that mask, come face to face with all that fate's laid on her, now it's only granted a wish that she's held tightly to for months. All of a sudden, it's the lies that have become truth. She no longer has to think about the ideas her mind's brushed over in past months, wondering if invincibility comes with everlasting life, if wrinkles will never make it to her face, caused by smiles or frowns. The prospect itself is still one that chills her to the bone, lingering in the shadows of her thought, Claire realizing better than anyone else that there will come a day when she returns to the United States, when being a cheerleader is no longer an option, when her dad will come and take her into his arms, family man that he is. She'll have to search for Peter, for Nathan, for anything remaining of the two of them. But for now, one choice has been switched for another, and it feels pretty good.

She's probably driven the people at the clinic mad. Claire keeps on trying to pull off her bandages, keeps on running gentle hands over her injuries, relishing the way that the pain is different each time. This process is healing. Not reversing, not erasing all trace of what's happened, but instead an imperfect process that leaves her slightly fractured, slightly weak, all of the things that a girl her age is supposed to be. The bruises that she sees all over her skin might be about the most beautiful thing she's seen and felt in a long time, her eyes wide with amazement at the human body, that imperfect state of being and how it adapts. It's almost hard to keep the lie in place, with the way her lips spread into a smile at the slightest provocation, how laughs catch in her throat now because her lung hasn't healed enough to be used at full force.

But she can't hide on her own forever. Can't use fatigue as an excuse when all the doctors can see that her eyes are practically dancing. It's time for visiting hours. This is what she's been dreading.

Because somehow, she doesn't think that most people will believe her if she tells them this is the happiest she's been in almost a year. And honestly, she's not even sure if she should.

Comments

[lonewolflives]

"What the fuck, Claire?"

Arya had never made much pretence of being other than blunt.

She wasn't talking about the way Claire was prodding at the bandages, because that's an impulse she understood, or thought she did; testing the limits, reminding oneself of where the pain was, what it was like. She'd poked enough of her own bruises in her time, stretched against tired or damaged muscles.

No, she meant the leap itself, which as far as she could tell had no apparent purpose. And maybe that look in her eyes; Arya was fairly good at reading people, translating the way a face moved in all its unconscious ways into meaning, but she couldn't figure out the context in which that expression made sense.

[regenerated]

Claire's eyes squeezed closed as soon as the words registered. Of course she was being scolded. Were Claire herself in Arya's shoes, she had the feeling that she would have been bouncing off the walls with concern, pacing around the room— all things considered, maybe Arya was already showing a great amount of restraint. Or maybe, a smaller voice in the back of Claire's head sounded, maybe she was able to see more of Claire than the teen ever intended. Maybe the lie was just growing thin, and it was really her own damn fault.

"Hey," she replied in a voice slightly hoarse from disuse, trying for a smile, one that didn't quite make it there. At the very least, she could wave for Arya to come closer, pull a hand out from under the covers and hold it out to the other teen, beckoning. "Sorry."

Whatever excuse for a smile there'd been, it faded away entirely as Claire tried for her next words. "I... I slipped?"

[wishesandsmoke]

"If you weren't already injured, I'd shake you so hard," Eden says when she's allowed in from the hall where she's been pacing for what feels like days. Claire may not be all she has, the only friend left to her, but there are days she damn near feels like it and she is, at all times, family. The thought of her being hurt like this, of putting herself in the position to accrue this kind of damage, it turns Eden's stomach (it's not just the fact of family, a thing she's had little of in her life — it's that she gave that life for a reason, has this one only by the thinnest stroke of luck, could lose it again just as fast. Taking that kind of a risk isn't something that sits easy with her for so many reasons, but that has to be one of them: under the concern and the way it hurts to see Claire like this and the anger of a parent disobeyed, there's a thread of fury that she could take this for granted, no matter what she's been in the past). Instead of taking a seat in the conveniently located chair, she perches on the edge of the bed, shaking her head. "Your father would kill me. What were you doing up there?"

[regenerated]

Of course Eden would be among the first to show up, Claire thinks to herself as soon as she hears the voice filter in from the entrance of the room. In a way, it's a good thing. Now, she doesn't have to lie, to twist her way around the matter of what she is (no, she reminds herself now, what she once was). And that in of itself is so freeing that Claire manages a breath, although all too quickly, it turns into a half-stifled sob as she reaches out for Eden, her fingertips reaching for a hand. An embrace. Anything. But on the other, it shatters her with crippling guilt, too, the fact that Eden might now have the impression that her supervision wasn't enough. And it isn't that.

It could never be that. But how is Claire supposed to explain?

"I—" Claire's voice sounds too thin for her taste, so she swallows, taking a breath with some difficulty. (Pain meds are addictive, she knows, so she hasn't allowed herself too much. Besides, there's something comforting about the pain, too.) "I didn't know, Eden. I didn't know that it'd be gone. Everyone told me... but I didn't think what I could do was magic, I didn't think it counted."

[getemtiger.livejournal.com]

Mary Jane had far more experience with the clinic than she liked. Two months spent there at Peter's bedside after Norman's attack, after the yacht party — if she had her way, she would never have had to set foot in there again, aside from visiting Meredith during her shift. Of course, having thought that only made her all the more aware of the inevitability of it, something she'd signed on for when she married Peter; it was practically part of the job description, a risk that would always be taken. She had just never expected it to be someone else she was going to see.

With the way news traveled, she'd come as soon as she was permitted, lingering by the door frame for just a moment before she walked in. If the sight of Claire there, bruised and broken and somehow seeming smaller for it, was at all unsettling (and it was, oh, it was), she didn't let it show. Instead, she summoned up what she could of a small, reassuring smile, having long since swallowed her worry. She'd come through it, at least; Mary Jane had been assured of that much.

"Hey," she said, quiet, as she took a seat in a familiar chair at the side of the bed. She had her suspicions, of course, of what had prompted this, but what Claire needed now surely wasn't to be berated. Any questions of that nature, she could get around to asking. There were more important things to take care of first. "How are you feeling?"

[regenerated]

The familiar sight of red hair in the distance made Claire's stomach twist. More than anyone else she'd met on the island, Claire trusted Mary Jane, loved Mary Jane, thought the world of her and never wanted to let her down. But the difficult thing, sometimes, in dealing with someone so patient and strong, was that their smiles hid a great deal. The soft tone of their voice made everything quiet, hidden, Claire finding it impossible to fully read Mary Jane's thoughts on the matter. All she knew was that her cheeks were feeling warm, uncomfortably so, and Claire knew better than almost anyone that it was a tinge of something like shame.

She squirmed, with some difficulty, in her bed.

"Hey," she replied at last, glad that it was easy enough to return that greeting as given. Unable to turn fully toward Mary Jane, Claire allowed her head to rest on the pillow, licking her lips, offering a tentative smile. "...honestly? I'm— I'm feeling pretty guilty. But also really... really amazing. And I don't mean because of the meds."

[floozyfacade]

It's not like she's never been in a hospital. The Penderghast children have had their share of breaks and sprains, of childhood complaints, and Olive's as guilty as Kale of getting into scrapes, though she's escaped the stitches he's brought on himself on more than one occasion. All of that, though, is nothing to this, and when she enters the clinic, it's with an unusual degree of trepidation. Claire's hurt, badly hurt, and though she doesn't look as upset or worn down as Olive might have expected, she's still bandaged and bruised, lying in that bed, and it's terrifying. They say the Compound isn't high enough that the fall could kill someone, but that isn't true. Height has a lot to do with it, but it's the impact that counts, and she's reasonably sure the right — the wrong — angle could have been the end of her friend.

Edging around the bed, she pulls the seat closer as she eases into it. "Claire, my God," she says, "what happened? Is there anything I can do or, or get for you or — ?" She shakes her head, abrupt, not sure what she's supposed to do here.

[regenerated]

Claire hates thinking about things like normalcy. Hates having to label things as regular or irregular, hates the fact that for all of the wonderful, horrific, miraculous, and impossibly strange things that have happened to the people on the island, that it still casts everyone onto some sort of scale, like there's now an ability to compare the weight of what one's experienced. Claire hates it. Doesn't want to think of her life as any more or less burdening than anyone else's, because in the end, what matters are the emotions, and less the events. But make no mistake, she considers that scale as much as anyone else.

Olive is, perhaps, the best proof of that. A girl who, as far as Claire can tell, has led a normal high school life. It isn't that Claire respects or expects less out of the other girl for it— she doesn't, and she still thinks Olive is one of the most remarkable people she's ever met. But how do you tell someone like that? How can Claire justify pushing something so huge onto Olive?

Then again, Zach managed, Claire reminds herself.

The expression on her face is one that carries a level of apprehension in it. Claire takes a deep breath, tries to keep herself from crying, but a tear rolls down from the corner of her eye anyway. "No, no, it's okay. I'm okay," Claire insists, shaking her head. "I just... y'know, I slipped."

Her lips press together; the statement isn't meant literally.

[irisewiththesun.livejournal.com]

It's been two weeks and the stitches are out now, the gash Seifer made healed as much as it will, leaving a long, angry scar that stretches across the top of Zuko's chest. Scarring is nothing new for him, and he's never been self-conscious about his face, so he's not about to start with this one. It's mostly hidden anyway, just a small section visible due to the v-neck t-shirt he's got on.

He definitely didn't think he'd be going back to the clinic this soon.

Zuko's got a scowl on his face when he walks in and stands at Claire's bedside, one that has nothing to do with his own recent experience and everything to do with how she's landed herself in here in the first place. "What were you thinking?" he says angrily, keeping his voice low and tightly controlled in an effort not to yell and get kicked out by a doctor.

[regenerated]

There's a part of Claire that worries as soon as Zuko says those words. What were you thinking? It's a question that could just hint at Claire's stupidity, hanging so close to the edge of the Compound roof, where the slightest lack of care would indeed have her plummeting down, by choice or not. But something about it strikes Claire as a deeper inquiry, as one that hints at the choice in Claire's hands, the consciousness that she's approached all of that situation with. It makes the guilt turn over, over, and over again in her stomach as she sinks further into the bed with a soft gasp, because she's not so sure she's expected this from Zuko. He's always been kind, before.

Something about the anger pulls out the rebellion in Claire, too. She knows that he only means well, that he doesn't intend to drive Claire into a corner and threaten. If anything, some of the people who've cared most in her life react like this. Her dad snapped whenever she worried him most.

"What do you mean, what was I thinking?" she asks, trying to inject force into her words, even when she's debating now, whether or not she should just tell him. "I slipped, okay? It was late, and I was just... I don't know, the stars were gorgeous and then all of a sudden, I slipped, I fell."

[curiously-cora.livejournal.com]

Coraline didn't know what she was doing wrong. She didn't know why people kept leaving her. She tried to be a good daughter and a good friend. She tried so hard all the time but it was never enough. Her family had left her, her friends left her and now Claire, even if it was an accident, had nearly left her. And it was her fault. Maybe if she'd been a better friend then it wouldn't have happened.

"Claire?" Coraline asked quietly. Pressing her lips together, Coraline looked at her curiously before taking a few steps in. "Hi."

[regenerated]

What kind of example was she setting?

It was the first question Claire asked herself, as soon as Coraline came into the room. Not that there was that big of a difference in years, but the greater distance between herself and Coraline, Claire thought, was the fact that the latter hadn't really found herself yet, though she'd made a firm effort to. Coraline hadn't managed to wade through all of life and compose even a vague sense of who she was, not as Claire had. The older teen wasn't nearly naive enough to think that she, as a high school student, had formed the person she wanted to be for the rest of her life, but she had a vague sense of it. Blurred, off in the distance. She wasn't sure if Coraline had the same.

So truly, what in the world was Claire doing?

She smiled in Coraline's direction, nodding so that the other teen knew she could come in, that Claire didn't mind. The guilt burned at her stomach like acid, more uncomfortable even than her injuries by far, but Claire steeled herself, willed herself to deal.

"Hey," she replied. "Hey, Coraline. I'm sorry you're seeing me like this."

[not-so-smooth.livejournal.com]

"Oh my god, Claire!" Sam said, bursting (as much as you could in a hospital) into her room.

"How could you not tell me? How could you keep it a secret? I thought we were friends. And all this time you've been keeping secrets."

Moving his hands from around behind his back, Sam revealed a bag he had been keeping there. Holding it up, he reached into it and pulled out a pair of tap shoes, Claire's tap shoes.

"I went to see what classes you were taking and if you had any homework. Then I found out you were taking tap. Friends don't keep secrets like the fact that they're tap dancers from each other."

He was being ridiculous, but Sam figured that Claire would be ready to talk about what happened on her own time, if she was ready to talk. And there was no guarantee it would be with Sam, either. Hopefully this way she would at least be seeing someone that wasn't going fret over her or be upset with her.

[regenerated]

Her eyes widened first with shock. She wasn't really expecting Sam to show up out of nowhere, after all, a friend so recently made and not one she'd gotten as much time as she would have liked to know. Worse yet were the accusations that he threw at her, ones that suggested that he knew something, ones that immediately had Claire running through her mind and trying to figure out who had snitched, who had told, knowing that she needed to find them and a way to silence them. (Not in a scary way, not that she would have wished harm on them, but a pleading look went a long way, sometimes.) She pushed herself higher on her bed, trying to think of how to explain, her lips parted but no sound coming through.

And then he lifted the tap shoes.

Claire stared, wide-eyed, for a few more seconds, before she burst out into laughter.

"Oh my god, Sam, don't do that!" she laughed, coughing a little at the end before she picked up one of her many pillows and chucked it as well as she could in his direction. Which, given her strength, wasn't too far. It bounced against his shin, at least. "And hey, I can totally take tap dance if I want, and I don't have to tell anyone. They're my feet, I'll do what I want with them."

[arrowette]

When Cissie had heard about Claire's accident, she had wondered. Sure, it could have been an accident but she knew that in Claire's world, she could regenerate. Maybe she hadn't realized that this place took that kind of thing out and thought that she could heal and everything would be okay - but that left the question of why she jumped in the first place or if she even had.

Still, no matter what happened, she was grateful that someone had been able to find Claire and get her help and that she was going to be okay. Her friends were very important to her - they were like her family and Claire was most definitely in that category.

"Hey," she poked her head through the doorway with a shy smile, hoping Claire felt up to having visitors. "How are you feeling?"

[regenerated]

The doubt was slowly beginning to fade away. Claire doubted that it ever would, fully, any time someone looked at her differently, made her feel like she was part of some vague other, pressing her fears into her more strongly again. But the longer that time went by with people like Coraline and Cissie coming voluntarily to Claire, still getting to know her in spite of all that they'd seen and been through, the more Claire felt that maybe it was okay to trust. Maybe they weren't just trying to get something out of it all (and now that she knew she couldn't regenerate, it's not like they would have, anyway).

So she smiled, and perhaps it was weak, but the gratitude ran further than it had in months, apology laced in that look.

"Good, actually," she said quietly, nodding to the seat by her bed if Cissie wanted to sit. "I'm actually... really good, honest. I've never really been in a clinic like this before. It's kinda cool."

[not_the_s]

"So," Kon says quietly when he comes inside enough to see her and see just what she's done to herself. "Do you want to tell me just how long it'll take for you to heal enough that I'll be able to beat some sense into you?" The words should sound angry. Instead they're more worried. He's always seen Claire as happy for the most part. Has he been so horribly wrong?

[regenerated]

The words are shocking. So much that Claire feels herself rooted to the spot as she tries her best to process them, staring over at Kon with a slight bit of alarm, wondering how much of it shows on her face. He doesn't know, she has to remind herself. He doesn't know that she used to heal in seconds, that really, once upon a time he could have literally beat her and not even left a single mark the next minute. There's just something about it, even if Claire knows Kon would never actually do such a thing, but something about the statement that makes her stomach churn with acid.

Maybe she really has upset him that much.

"Don't say that," she shakes her head, her eyes sliding to a close briefly, before she looks him steadily in the eye. "I just slipped, okay? And believe me, I don't plan on going toward heights for a while anymore, because that? Was not fun." Claire takes a breath, then winces.

"Stupid as I'm sure it sounds, it even hurts to breathe."

[thethirdwonder.livejournal.com]

"You know, you really should leave flying to professionals." Cassie teased from the door with a half smile. She came late in the day, after all of Claire's close friends had had their turn. She'd hadn't talked with the other girl much but clearly that had to change if she was friends with Cissie, Kon and Sam. And now was as good as time as any.

"I mean come on. I already have to share with Superman and Superboy here on the island. Not to mention, people might start mistaking you for Wonder Girl and then where will I be?" She kidded as she walked into the room.

[regenerated]

Maybe Claire didn't know Cassie all that well, but she the blonde did know was that this was exactly what the doctor prescribed. That after trying to explain countless times to people that she was fine, that she didn't want the teary-eyed hugs or the concern, because they only made the guilt curdle in her stomach, having someone who just came in with a light quip was the most comforting thing in the world. So she smiled, and maybe it was a little weak from all the exertions of the day, physical and otherwise, but it was a smile fully meant and one deeply grateful as Claire tilted her head toward the empty seat by her bed, inviting the other girl to stay a while.

The people from that world really were amazing.

"Well, you know," she said with a grin. "The ideas we get at two in the morning, I swear. I really thought that I could do it. Serves me right for watching superhero movies shortly before bed. Never again."

[giftless]

The stress of the previous day woke Edmund up, it seemed, from something of a waking dream that had clouded his thoughts for the past few weeks. But that had been yesterday. Yesterday had been panic and fear and desperate prayers that he wouldn't have to lose someone again so soon. It had been jarring and left him quite literally shaking, but now, though he felt awake, he felt tired, too. It felt as though the emotions of yesterday -- of all the past few weeks really -- had been too much for him and, though he felt it all now, he wasn't prepared to feel them all.

He sat down beside Claire's bed regardless of that tiredness, visible in the corners of his eyes and the slight pallor of his skin that made his freckles stand out even more. He couldn't shut these things off now which meant he couldn't ignore them either.

"Don't do that ever again, Claire," Edmund said quietly. "Please."

[regenerated]

Most memories faded. Some, within days. Some, even within minutes. The first time that Claire had hurt her hand, back during that scuffle with Jackie, all she remembered of that was red. The first time she'd shown Zach what she could do, all she could remember was the feeling of falling, like a bird who'd lost its wings, panic rising and escaping in her through a scream. Driving Brody into a wall had been rage. Escaping from Sylar in the school, that had been terror. But what Claire remembered of that night, when she'd taken her leap off of the Compound, was just Edmund. The look in his eyes, at least twice as terrified as her own, and the sound of his voice, thin and shaking. Watching him step into the room seemed to reinforce all of that. She pressed her lips together, not saying a word, merely watching as he sat himself right down next to her bed, probably more loyal of a friend than she deserved.

Stifling the sob that rose in her throat, Claire reached a hand out, wondering if he'd take it. "I'm... so sorry," she managed to choke out, face flushed from the effort. "It won't happen again. I swear."

[daretodo]

When I first went to Tony with the idea of the O.R. last -- and it was my idea, that whole project was and is my baby -- I brought up the fact that we both would've died after Norman's attack had we needed surgery. Can you imagine that? I would've survived having the tar beaten out of me, sure, but it's the process of patching me up that would've done me in. It was absurd. And given that I'm a veritable magnet for trouble -- which just so happens to include having the tar beaten out of me on a semi-regular basis -- I felt, very strongly, in fact, that having a functioning operating room and improved medical facilities was in the best interest of everyone on this island, all the while hoping that no one would ever need to use any of it.

Yet in a matter of a couple of weeks, I've seen the inside of not one person's chest, but two. There's just something about this year, I'm tellin' ya. At the rate we're going, things might not be so unlike home soon enough.

With a stack of homework for all of my classes she'll be missing tucked under my arm, I collapse into the chair someone's left by Claire's bed, uninvited. The smile I've got plastered on my face belies the weariness I feel everywhere else; it's been a rough couple of months, even for me, and now I have this to add to the pile, someone so close to Mary Jane getting so injured. A part of me wonders if I shouldn't be stern -- read Claire the riot act, as it were -- but it's my experience that that's the last thing you want when your body's in the business of pulling itself together, so the friendly air stays put.

"Well, if your plan was to get out of class," I say, brows lifting as I set the assignment sheets down on the bedside table, "have I got news for you."

[regenerated]

Sometimes, I don't know how people put up with teenagers. I know that I'm still right smack in the middle of being one, but already I'm starting to see a lot of things in retrospect, habits and tendencies that I've had ever since the hormones started going crazy (so to speak). Realizing that it's almost a rule that we don't think as carefully about our actions before we jump. That having people hold their arms out in front of us, keeping us from what we've got our minds set onto, it just makes us run forward with greater force. Last night is probably one of those things that I should have thought through a lot more carefully. Talked to an adult about. Sure, maybe my situation is a little different. Maybe my life back home was, in those last few months, nothing more than a continual reminder of the fact that secrets are just going to be part of my life. But there's only so much that those excuses can cover.

It's been nearly a year that I've been on the island, and every single person who's found out about what I am— was, sorry— has been understanding. I'm not in a lab. People aren't poking and prodding, trying to figure out what it is about my DNA that makes me special. I could have turned to any one of those people who knew, told them about my worries, maybe get pricked by a few needles and leave it at that.

Instead, I jumped off the balcony. Yeah. How's that for teenage idiocy?

That said, the smile on my face as soon as Peter drops that pile of sheets down on the table next to me, it's pretty ridiculous. My cheeks actually ache from the effort. I know that there's probably a whole lot more that he's feeling. He's a teacher, a council member, a husband, and... kind of like an uncle to me, even, though we're not the closest. That combination has got to be tiring. But he's still... he's still Peter. And that makes things a little more okay.

"Drat," I say, snapping my fingers in mock disappointment. "I thought I'd totally get the pity vote, this time. Instead, it's breakfast and worksheets in bed, huh?" I glance over at the pile, more than a bit tempted to start on it immediately, like that might start to make up for all the trouble I've caused.

[quileutejacob.livejournal.com]

When Jacob heard about Claire's accident, the first thing he did was run down to the clinic to see how she was doing. He wasn't sure exactly how it happened and he was pretty sure that it was rude to ask but visitors, at least, might be welcome.

Along the way, he scooped up some flowers (hibiscus, he thought, but he was no gardener) to bring to her room.

"Claire? How are you feeling?"

[regenerated]

Claire had yet to figure out what kind of reactions hurt the most. There were some people who'd shown up looking the very picture of anger and hurt. Others, who tried their best to ignore the problem, moving forward as though nothing had changed. Others, who appeared tired, slumping into the seat next to her and looking as though they'd never stand again. All of them left Claire feeling vulnerable, exposed, so much smaller in her bed than she'd felt initially.

But when Jacob swept into the room, she didn't feel any of that. He didn't come with prying questions, with any anger, nor even with the sort of worry that most wore on their faces, as though Claire was just on the cusp of falling apart. Instead, he came with flowers.

Claire smiled, in spite of herself.

"Much improved," she answered with a tilt of her head. "I was waiting for the flowers and balloons to start filtering in, seriously. This place would be vastly improved with that splash of color."

[noonelaughed]

Chris hates hospitals.

See, the thing about hospitals is that people tend to go into them and never come out. The last time he saw his brother was in a hospital, and Chris is convinced that if he hadn't insisted on going back to his and Cassie's, he wouldn't have made it out of hospital either. The compound clinic might not be an actual hospital, but it's as close as it gets on the island. So when he'd heard that Claire had fallen off of the compound roof and there'd been surgery and all that, he hadn't been able to help but think of Peter and when he'd found out.

It's likely a good thing that she hasn't been allowed visitors until now; it was days before Chris could wrap his brain around heading there anyway, at least not until he'd found out that she isn't going to die. It had seemed fair though; Chris isn't allowed anything good anyway. Not Peter, not Jal, not even his own fucked up life, so why should he get to have her as a friend? As an anything?

Still, it's more than a relief when he hears she's okay, and he'd feel like even more of a shit friend if he didn't visit her, so he finds himself there that day, as cautious about speaking as he was about entering the clinic in the first place.

"Alright, Claire?" he asks, and it's likely about the dumbest thing anyone's ever said to someone who's in hospital.

[regenerated]

It's a simple question, all things considered, that Chris Miles poses to Claire as soon as he's stepped into the clinic. Maybe that's the tricky thing about Chris. You never figure that a guy like him is going to have all too many layers, that he's the opposite of subtle, that you can see what there is to him and know what to expect. But it's never true. Claire knows that well already, has learned time and time again that there's more to Chris than what meets the eye. There was a time when she allowed him to wear down at her inhibitions, when he had her feeling freer than she ever did before. Of course, that came to a screeching halt, as things like that were apt to do, but what matters is that there's a certain level of honesty between them, that makes meeting his gaze simple and stomach-flipping all at once.

"All's well on the western front," she replies, a soft smile the only apology on her lips as she holds a hand out in his direction, to where he lingers as though hesitant. Of all the things that she could have done to scare him, Claire hopes this one isn't the last straw. "Seriously. I'm fine."

Her lower lip feels chapped as she runs her tongue over it, betting that she looks a mess right now. Probably needs a decent shower, or at the very least a comb. But something tells Claire that Chris isn't going to mind.

[ourshinycity]

It took a lot to get Peeta angry, but it wasn't impossible. His anger was rooted in some of the usual places, but he had always managed to keep it under control. Of course controlled anger was dangerous, but it was better than lashing out at everything. The moment that he had heard about what happened to Claire, the fact that she had done it to herself he had felt the anger rising up in him. It was frustration more than anything. A desire to go back and time to stop her, to catch her. To show her that she didn't need to be invincible to feel alive.

Walking into the kitchen he was holding a small box of buns. They were cinnamon rolls, one of his favourites. He had debated about whether or not to bring anything, but in the end he couldn't visit her empty handed.

Standing at the foot of her bed, his face in a line as he stared at her face he lifted up the box to show her. "I brought you something. To make you feel better." His voice was soft, stern as he wondered why but didn't voice it. He couldn't start out with the anger. That wouldn't get him anywhere.

[regenerated]

The smell wafted into the clinic before Peeta appeared. That was how she knew. Claire knew a number of the people on the island were phenomenal bakers, but among her best friends, there was only one who would think to do that first. In those several seconds, with sugar teasing at her nose, Claire was able to prepare herself for Peeta's entrance, the disappointment that he was sure would be in his eyes. He was one of the few that Claire had told about her ability, the way that she could heal from every tear, every burn, every broken bone, and nothing had changed between them for it. That afternoon they spent by the trampoline was still firmly lodged in her memory, the way he hadn't shied from running his fingers along the curve of her cheek, the way his eyes had lingered on the curls of her hair. Maybe that made this more of a betrayal than anything else, to know that Peeta had trusted her, only to have Claire throw that trust aside entirely.

She took a deep breath to steel her nerves, before offering a soft smile as he came in.

"That... smells amazing," she sighed, resting her cheek heavily against the pillow. "You spoil me."

[first-pink-lady.livejournal.com]

Rizzo strolled into the clinic, sunglasses on, collar popped up, scanning the room for blondie, expression unreadable.

Spying Claire, Rizzo came over and propped a hip on the nearby wall, took off her sunglasses and tucked them into her shirt, crossed her arms, and levelled a look at the girl.

"Better ways to do it." She said, almost flippantly.

[regenerated]

It was just like Rizzo to come strolling in, skirts all billowing, shades propped on her nose, and to get right to the core of matter. At least, as far as the other girl was aware. Claire took a deep breath, hardly even having time to compose herself. But that was the way it had always been with Rizzo, and Claire didn't mind having that continue. It felt normal.

As... abnormal as the question Rizzo asked was.

Licking her lips, Claire shook her head, breathing in and out, slowly. Steadily. "That wasn't what I was trying to do, Rizzo. I... I slipped, okay?" she said, her expression tired. Melancholy. Unsure how she was supposed to piece that life of hers back together again with everything that she had done. "I didn't want to kill myself, I'd never want to do that. There's too much I've got going for me here. Friends I can't bear to leave."

[a-real-viking.livejournal.com]

"Mighty Thor," Hiccup breathed, standing in the doorway. He knew all about bad injuries, had some himself now, but it was still a shock to see any of his friends like that. With the tousled blond hair it was all too easy to imagine Astrid on that hospital cot.

"Though, uh, I guess that's probably not the right thing to say. Um..."

Toothless smacked him with an ear and slipped past him to get a better look at her.

"You okay?"

[regenerated]

As much as Claire loved Mr. Muggles, there was no doubt in her mind that there were a lot of pets on the island who were a fair amount smarter than her Pomeranian. Toothless just happened to be one of them. While the blonde completely expected to return to her hut with Mr. Muggles being unaware that anything had happened at all, the dragon looked concerned, immediately trying to take in the amount of damage that had been done to her. It made Claire wonder how often Vikings got injured, especially considering Hiccup's leg.

"I'm as okay as I can be?" Claire offered with a hopeful smile, glad that Hiccup had arrived, and glad that he hadn't immediately started questioning her like so many other people had. "I mean, stuck in bed, kind of hurting around the chest, but things could a whole lot worse. And now I've got a Viking and a dragon both visiting me at once. I'd say that's kind of a win."

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