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

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

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.

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Sam grinned at ducked away from the pillow, even though it only hit just barely above the knees. Claire looked fierce throwing it, so he thought he should give her the benefit of appearing properly cowered.

"Alright, fine, but I brought you the tap shoes just in case what you want to do is tap dance while in traction," he said, setting the shoes down on a tray while he pulled a chair up next to the bed.

"But you also take art class, so I brought you this-"

Reaching in, Sam pulled out what appeared to be part of a belt, some string, and a few random crayons all tangled together.

"I wasn't sure how much you could use your hands, so I made this for you."

Wrapping the belt around his head, Sam adjusted the placement of the crayons so that one was on each side of his head, attached to the belt.

"Hands free coloring for all your masterpieces."

She was just on the cusp of remarking that the tray that Claire was eating from those days probably wasn't the best place the put the shoes, but could only then gape in wonder as Sam pulled a long string of crayons from his pocket, not even daring to imagine what he was trying to do with them. When he tied it all around his head, though, like some ridiculously multicolored sweatband, Claire could only dissolve into further peals of laughter, until it very literally hurt to try some more, her hand going to her chest as she took deep gulps of air, shaking her head.

"Oh my god, Sam, if I mess up my stitches, it's going to be your fault— you know that, right?" she shook her head, dizzy from the effort as she fell back against the bed again. "I seriously don't know where you got that brain of yours. But this is... I mean, pretty awesome. I might even take it to class to show the teacher, see if I can't get it added onto the list of standard art materials."

Sam was glad to see and hear Claire laughing- right up until it seemed to cause her physical pain. Maybe he shouldn't try and cheer her up too much, not so much that she actually started bleeding again or anything that like that.

"No way, if you do that I'm just going to sneak and then the doctors will all think you're hallucinating or something," Sam added. Although really, he had no plans to go anywhere just yet. He wouldn't stay for a long visit, not unless she asked, but he wasn't just going to visit her and run either.

"My last gift is probably the most useful," he said, reaching in the back and pulling out a strip of black cloth. "To tie around your eyes, so if you really don't want visitors you can put it on and pretend you're sleeping."

"Uh-huh, except when I point out that it was totally Sam Witwicky in here making me laugh, I'm sure that I'd be able to get character references from a lot of people showing that you are just the kind of guy to do that to a girl," Claire pointed out, biting playfully down on her lower lip to stifle (and cope with) further pain. "Besides, you won't have an alibi set for what you were doing at this time of day."

Smiling, Claire held an arm out for the strip of black cloth, tugging it lightly over and reaching back to tie it around her head, lifting it just high enough that it went across her forehead rather than over her eyes. In a way, Sam had pinned down exactly what Claire wanted: space. But she knew as well that she had caused trouble for herself, in this respect. Dug a hole of her own that she could only pull out of through her own means.

"Can I just pretend to be a ninja instead?" she asked, lips curved in a smirk.

Sam stepped back a moment, bringing his hand to his chin as he appraised her look. Even all banged and bandaged up, Claire was far too adorable to look as menacing as a ninja should.

"I'm pretty sure that it's just kung fu students that wear the cloth around their head while ninjas wear the full on mask. At least, that's what 80's movies and cartoons have taught me."

Wrinkling her nose at him, Claire removed the strip from her head, laying it out on her lap instead and flattening it out as much as she could, before raising it to her face. Unfortunately, the band of cloth wasn't wide enough to cover more than just her lips, the edge of the cloth hiding right under her nose. For a few seconds, she was able to keep a poker face, but it didn't last long.

"Then it's your failure," she determined with a nod of her head. "Failure to bring me something that can help me hide my identity. And, and, total failure in bringing me 80's movies as well. I'm a 90's baby, Sam, I don't usually go searching before my birthdate for good entertainment."

"I didn't know you wanted help hiding your identity," Sam said. "If that had been the case, I would have brought you a fake mustache."

Sam thought the fact that she wanted to hide her identity was telling, although maybe she was just being silly. He supposed that if she jumped off the roof of the Compound, maybe she was hoping to get some alone time. Or a lot of alone time.

"But yeah, I just wanted to drop that stuff by for you."

"I think you'd have a hard time finding a fake mustache that matches my hair," Claire said very honestly, her nod slow, sage. "All this volume, all this bounce? Er, well, when my hair hasn't suffered through hours upon hours of hospital bed static, anyway. I'm not sure how you can manage to get that looking right on a mustache." She found herself unable to keep from laughing afterward, light and easy, doing her best to keep from taking deep breaths in the meantime. When she'd stopped, her look was softer, affectionate, laced with more than a touch of gratitude.

Her grin pulled up at the corner.

"You're amazing, Sam. For all of this. All the doctors should learn beside manners from you."

"I'm pretty sure I could make one with a few clippings from your hair," Sam said after a moment's thought. Some Elmers glue or maybe double sided tape and he'd have one seriously awful mustache for Claire to disguise herself with.

"It's no big deal, really. Just figured you could use some levity or something. I mean, you could have been sitting here dealing with some serious angst and been upset I made light of your situation. Then I would have regretted not bringing the bag with the emo hair-cut wig and the copy of Thus Spoke Zarathustra."

"You are so not going anywhere near my hair," Claire shook her head, a warning look in her eye. As thought to protect her locks, she pulled them over her left shoulder, away from where Sam stood, although she was also finding it quite hard not to smile at the very thought. "Besides, my hair is way too fine to be a beard. Not that I've really known a lot of people with beards or anything, but sometimes my dad didn't shave when he got a few days off work, just so that he could come around and tickle me with it. I always complained so much, because it was all scratchy and stuff."

Lifting her chin, Claire managed a small laugh, before shaking her head. "Meanwhile, my hair is carefully tended to. Back home, I used Herbal Essences. Here, I use whatever plant oils I can get my hands on. Less convenient, but probably better for my hair anyway." With a small sigh, she rested her head against her pillow again.

"But, you've got me pegged right, don't worry. I mean, yeah, sometimes I get mad when friends joke too much about a serious situation, but you weren't making fun of it or anything. Just distracting me, and laughing like this, it's good."

"Oh sure jump off a building but heaven forbid I touch your hair," Sam said, rolling his eyes a bit and hoping it wasn't too soon for "you jumped off a building but..." comments.

"And they do say that laughter is the best medicine, although I'm not sure that was still true if you had stitches somewhere on the torso."

She slipped a little further under her covers, feeling embarrassed. While Claire didn't think that Sam had intended to send a barb her way with his words, it did feel silly, in retrospect, to be joking so lightly after what happened. Laughter was the best medicine for the moment, and Claire was still glad for all that Sam had done for her, but at the same time, it was a fleeting relief.

"Well, I'm not going to jump off a building again anytime soon, so hopefully that becomes a nonissue," Claire offered a crooked smile. "And hey, it is totally possible to laugh inside my head, and not wheeze enough to pull my stitches. Which I did get, since... punctured lung, they had to cut in and make sure the bones were set properly again, it's kind of gross."

"That is pretty gross, and now every time I get hit in the side I'm going to freak out that's going to happen to me, so thank you for that," he said, grinning back at her. He was glad she said she wasn't going to jump off a building again soon (although soon was not as good as never), at least she was able to talk about it in some sort of fashion.

"But look, I wasn't going to hang around too long unless you want me too. I figured you'd have a lot of people coming to check up on you today and you'll probably be sick and tired of it before the day is out."

"As long as you drink plenty of milk and don't waste away to a fine, brittle pulp in bed, I'm sure that your bones will be fine and strong," Claire shook her head with a soft laugh, even as she felt the color slightly draining from her cheeks in spite of herself. Fortunately, it seemed like Sam had pretty thick skin, that he wouldn't honestly be that traumatized by all that had happened to Claire. But she did have to be careful about how much she revealed to others who stopped by.

With a softer look, she glanced up again, wishing more than anything that she could give him a tight hug as thanks for having stopped by. "I do want to hang out with you," Claire said first, "and be dorks and learn about the difference between kung-fu artists and ninjas, but... I've been enough trouble for the doctors already. So I should probably get some sleep. But as soon as I'm discharged, we need to hang. You still haven't brought me fruit yet."

"Anytime, Claire," Sam said, giving her a smile. "You know, except when they're changing your bedpan or something. Aaaand I have no idea why I just mentioned that, pretend I didn't. And no, no fruit yet but I do have a map of the where I've found fruit trees or bushes on the island."

That part was true at least, she'd thrown down the gauntlet at that and he intended to pick it up.

"But take care, okay? I want you to get well soon."

At the mention of bedpans, Claire let out a surprised gasp, before grabbing a pillow and chucking it in Sam's direction, dissolving into scandalized giggles. Even if it meant getting scolded by one of the nurses later, there just wasn't any way for him to defend what he'd just said. "No," she shook her head, laughing. "No, I'm not going to just let that one slide, oh my god, Sam."

Leaning back against her remaining pillow once more, she waved after him.

"But talk of pee aside, it really was great of you to visit, Sam," she sighed, expression largely content. "Thank you."

Sam laughed and cringed into a defensive position as she let another pillow fly. He wondered just how many she had there to throw at him. Probably more than he actually wanted thrown at himself.

"I'll come again in a few days, okay?" he told her, smiling at how pleased she currently looked. "Bring you some more things to keep you from getting bored."

Whether or not he was fully capable of the cheering up he could do, Claire appreciated the efforts nonetheless, more than she could really describe without bursting into tears. Everything that day just felt overwhelming, sometimes in a good way, sometimes in a way that made her feel far too close to the damsel in distress that she was always claiming that she wasn't. Either way, she tried to keep it casual while Sam was still there.

"I look forward to it. Provided you don't talk about bedpans again," she warned, allowing herself a brief laugh as she shook her head.

"I promise, not bedpan talk from here on out," he said, raising his hands in surrender as he backed up to leave. That was a topic of conversation that he would be more than happy to avoid in the future.

"I'll come back and check on you later, okay?" he promised. He wouldn't stay very long any of the times, but he would make sure that she was doing okay.

Claire's expression softened as she watched him back further out of the room, feeling apologetic over not having the energy to properly engage with everyone who'd visited her that day. But as far as conversations in clinics went, Sam's had been one of the most energizing, and for that she couldn't be more grateful.

"You'd better keep that promise," she laughed softly, waving after him. "But okay. I'll be waiting."

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

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