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'

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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Chris would much rather wheel Claire out of the clinic and go somewhere else than stick around. There's something about the place that he doesn't like at all, though honestly, it could just be the combination of it and Claire looking like she does. Even back when Tony had been in hospital, Chris had never stayed too long, usually only heading there when everyone else did.

"Yeah, alright," he says, though he feels guilty for it. Even just grabbing her hand feels wrong somehow, when he thinks about how he's fucked up. Maybe it'll be easier if he just leaves, but he know how shit it is to be stuck in hospital in the first place. So, he does take Claire's hand when she offers, though he has to move onto the bed a bit more so it's comfortable at all.

"Guess it was just one of those weeks. Busy, busy, yeah?" Though he'd mostly just spent the rest of the week in his hut with loads of pills and spliff, his own celebration of the fact that he's not dead.

There's an instant comfort that floods over when Chris stays put. Claire's not really sure how much of a right she has to it, but just knowing that he isn't going to simply turn and head in the other direction, it's comforting, a constant presence by her side. In many ways, Chris Miles is like quicksilver, too much life in him to stay rooted to one spot for long, and while it's definitely one of the reasons why Claire likes him as much as she does, times like these, she wishes it was more natural for him to stay around. The guilt starts seeping in only seconds later, though. This can't be comfortable for him.

And while Claire's not the worst at being selfish, it's been particularly hard ever since the rave. The sting of having been so tactless still hasn't worn off.

"Busy?" she asks, trying for amiable, normal, willfully ignoring the bandages which stretch across her chest and the slight pain in her side as she takes in air. "Yeah? What've you been up to?"

"You know... stuff," Chris replies, because he hasn't really thought of what to tell her. He can't say that he's spent most of that week on pills and weed; while that's really what's gone on, he can't help but think that he'll get that look from her that she gives him sometimes. It's the same one he got when she had her camera and he had his basket on the trampoline, like she's disappointed in him or something. It reminds him a bit of the one Jal used to give him.

"Birthday stuff, I guess. Only comes once a year, you know?" he adds, and tries not to think about the fact that maybe... maybe if he'd been around, she might not have jumped. He was likely off his face somewhere when it happened, instead of there to stop her doing it.

It doesn't come out all too often, but it seems pretty blatant in Chris' voice tonight. Shame. And it twists Claire's stomach just a bit, knowing that she's probably the cause of it, that the judgment in her eyes, her voice, it hits him. They're not really actions that Claire can easily turn off. Even though the last thing she wants is to hurt Chris in any way, she still doesn't think that the way he behaves is healthy. It's perfectly possible that the United States is just too Puritan by comparison, that weed isn't really all that bad for a person, but Claire can't help but think that what she takes greater issue with is the way that Chris seems to hide from everything else, behind the wisps of smoke and spliff.

He forgets to actually live in the world.

"Yeah," she manages to smile, almost laugh. "Yeah, that's what I've been told. Every year, my mom would tell me that I should have a party or something, because I'm only fourteen once, only fifteen, sixteen... bet she'd freak out if she ever made it here, already seventeen and everything."

"When your birthday comes round, you'll have one, then, yeah?" Chris suggests, "But your kinda party instead."

Not that Chris wouldn't want another party like the one he had for his own birthday, but he's pretty sure Claire wouldn't want the same thing. He doesn't think she enjoyed the party at all; from what Chris remembers, she spent it near the cupcakes and didn't drink. And it's not as if he even knows what Claire would want-- he guesses it'd be like the other island parties are, complete with like... fuckin' karaoke or something-- but he'd be willing to give one of those a shot, at least.

"Do you even know what my kind of party's like?" Claire asks, suddenly struck by his offer, her eyes narrowing as she tilts her head in his direction. She knows full well what his kind of party is, of course, and it does happen to be one where she doesn't entirely fit in, but that Chris is trying to make a concession for her sake feels pretty gratifying, as well. She leans back and over the pillows, trying to find a comfortable position without shifting too far away. "I mean, my birthday's in January, so it'd probably take a while to get back to it, but..."

She sighs a little, tilting her head from side to side. "Think movie marathons. And truth or dare, never have I ever... sometimes spin the bottle, if we're feeling really adventurous. Some of the girls on the squad also brought beer and stuff, but usually I didn't— I mean, the one time I had it at a party back there, things really didn't turn out well."

"I could do that. Truth or Dare, I've done that. Loads of times," He says, though it's never been a staple at any of the parties he's been to on the island or back home. He feels a bit guilty now, for missing her birthday months back, but he's pretty sure she'd been pissed off with him back then, for what had happened at his first party.

He's not gonna do Spin the Bottle though. That's fuckin' bollocks, it is. Besides, there's been enough trouble to come from kissing between him and Claire.

Chris is quiet for a second, not sure whether or not he should ask the next thing on his mind, but before he can decide either way, his mouth's already opened and the words are spilling out. "What happened? Back home, I mean?"

While Claire has the feeling that Chris' version of Truth or Dare would leave her in the dust, she smiles anyway, glad that he's humoring her. In the back of her mind, she also starts putting together a list of questions, mostly things that she's wondered about Chris now and again— it may be months yet until she gets the opportunity to play the game with him, but there's no reason not to be prepared for the possibility.

It comes to a screeching halt soon enough when Chris asks what happened. Should she be able to freely admit this sort of thing? Maybe to a counselor, but Chris is... well.

Breathing deep, she brushes her hair behind an ear. "A guy tried to... he tried to force himself on me. But he— he paid for it, in the end, in his own way."

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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