Day 33: Lunch

[tsunagari]

There was a knot in Sai's stomach as he was led back inside to the cafeteria. It was an unfamiliar feeling, and he tried to ignore it. What was it? Was he actually uncomfortable with his decision? He couldn't afford to be. This alliance with Itachi was crucial, and he'd just have to try and make sure the others saw it that way

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[son_ofkrypton]

[Waiting for Wolverine!]

Clark made sure to wash up quickly at the restrooms before heading off for lunch. While washing his hands under the running water - which was, of course, not overly hot or cold for the patients - he was aware of how easy it should've been to just let himself out under normal circumstances. But with his powers like this? No, it was too risky, both for the others (staff and patients alike) and himself. Luckily another incident with the heat vision hadn't happened again, but there was no saying it couldn't. Clark dashed some water from his cupped hands into his face, looking in the mirror and seeing someone who looked like a stranger in it.

It'd only been a week, but the week took its toll. He had shadows under his eyes and look tired, worn out.

Sighing, he dried his hands and left to be ushered into the cafeteria, withdrawn into his own little world and thinking as he went through the line for fish and chips. That phone call. He kept thinking back to that phone call Lex said he could have and it stood out like a beacon of hope. All he had to do was try to talk to his parents. Surely they'd help. They were good people, not matter what hints about them Lex dropped. Clark sat down at the table, staring down at the fish and chips and eating without really tasting them.

[ol_canucklehead]

Logan hadn't had time to respond to Faust before his nurse came to collect him, but what the man had said hit him like a brick to the head. He could identify with what his morning companion had said so easily, it was almost like he'd been listening to himself talking instead of another. And Faust had been right. He was living for himself now, just as Logan should be, trapped or not. He didn't have to be a pawn any longer. The man's message had been quite reassuring.

Logan didn't bother to wash up before eating; he'd barely worked up a sweat and had, on more than one occasion, eaten freshly-killed, raw meat after a day of hunting through the woods; he sincerely doubted anything he might have picked up on the rec field was going to cause him any problems. He asked to be led directly back to the cafeteria, although he was reluctant to leave the sun's warmth.

Upon arrival, Logan wasted no time in obtaining more food. As usual, he had smelled the lunchtime fare long before he saw it. Fish. An' chips. He shrugged mentally, it was good enough. Working his way through the line and quickly filling up a plate, making sure to include plenty of vegetables, he chose water to accompany it and looked around for somewhere to sit. He'd eaten breakfast alone, and his conversation with Faust had inspired him to seek out further company.

Moving through the groups of tables, Logan spotted a young man he'd spoken with the day of the riot. Didn't that kid also have a room in the same hallway as himself? It didn't really matter, he supposed. The kid looked dejected, and since Logan was in a pretty good mood himself, he thought he might take a shot at cheering him up. He took a seat opposite the younger man without asking, setting his tray down with a clatter by way of announcing his presence. He offered a small, wry smile before picking up the cheap-looking plastic fork. "Still alive then, kid?" His tone was laced with humour.

[son_ofkrypton]

Clark gave an almost guilty start, looking up as Logan sat down across from him.

"Yeah, I guess," he said, unable to keep from thinking back to the Chapel and his mysterious healing. "How're you?" he changed the subject quickly - maybe a little too quickly - looking across the table at the man.

He looked more or less fine. When was the last time he even saw him? Oh. Oh yeah, the riot. Logan had been telling him about a group of his friends helping people only to get interrupted by chaos breaking out in the cafeteria.

[ol_canucklehead]

Logan eyed the young man across from him warily as he chewed. He didn't need to be Emma or Chuck to tell when someone had something pressing on their mind. Sometimes, it just radiated from people. The way the kid had responded was the equivalent of a huge sign over his head that read "I got troubles, barkeep." He guessed they all did of course, but figured that the younger ones, those who hadn't experienced the kinds of pains he and some of the older patients had in their lives, would be hit harder by the negative effects of this place.

As usual, he wouldn't push if the kid didn't want to talk, that wasn't his style. But there was no reason why he couldn't lend an ear if it helped take the pressure off. His demeanour remained nonchalant as he replied, however. "Me? I'm fine. Well, as well as anyone can be here, I s'pose. Ya don' seem too well tho', kid, like ya got soemthin' gnawin' away at ya. Wanna talk 'bout it? People tell me I'm a good listener." Heh, ain' tha' tha truth, he thought with amusement, but didn't let it show as he kept working through his meal.

[son_ofkrypton]

Clark sighed. He wasn't going to mention Claire's name and make it more complicated for her if everyone suddenly started knowing about her memory loss. But it was the least he could do to ask around and see if anyone could help...even if he didn't go throwing out names.

The farmboy looked up at Logan, half-hopefully and half ready for him to show the same lack of recognition that Badou had. "Have you seen a tall, black bald man? Calls himself the Haitian?" he asked suddenly. His words came out in a rush, betraying how worried he was. "A...a friend of mine lost their memory. I think he can get it back, but no one I've talked to has seen him."

[ol_canucklehead]

It looked as though the young man was thinking frantically before he spoke again, perhaps deciding how much he should tell Logan. That was fair enough, he barely knew him, after all. Logan just kept on working away at his lunch whilst he awaited a response. His head was down, eyes scanning his food when the response did come, and he didn't notice the look on Clark's face at first, but it snapped up quickly at the boy's tone, and he saw the hope gleam in those eyes. Whoever this person was, he sounded pretty important to the boy. Logan's brow furrowed as he listened, and it was almost immediate that his companion was out of luck in asking after such a man.

"Sorry kid, no-one I seen here fits tha' description." The Haitian? He thought about it, and decided that he couldn't actually recall seeing any black patients in his time here. A lot of Asians, almost as many caucasians, but the darkest skin he'd come across was that rusty-looking tone of SubZero's buddy, the one who claimed to have been a robot. It was pretty strange, now that he stopped to think about it.

Memory loss. Now that was something he knew a bit about. Hell, if he hadn't recently regained all of his own memories, he might be inclined to seek out this Haitian guy himself. "Tha' happen in here? Somethin' tha doctors did ta yer frien'?" It wouldn't surprise him in the slightest if they had, the bastards. Without waiting for a response, he launched a several more questions at the boy. "This guy...this Haitian, wha', he's like a voodoo pries' or somethin'? How da ya know he exists at all if no-one's seen him? Ya musta foun' out 'bout him somehow, righ'? Ya tried askin' on tha board?" Okay, so now he did sound like he was pressing a little bit, but figured Clark would make his own mind up as to how much he'd tell to a strange, hairy old man he'd only met once before. He looked down at his meal again. "Ya ain' gotta tell me wha' ya don' wanna, o' course, makes no difference ta me." But it did make for interesting conversation all the same.

[son_ofkrypton]

"Oh."

Clark deflated a little before he went about trying to get himself to be more positive. So what if a lot of patients hadn't seen this man around? There had to be some way to reverse the memory loss, if not the Haitian, then someone else. Clark wasn't sure how he'd get them to return Claire's memory or jog it, but he was still hoping, still holding out that he could appeal to reason instead of having to rely on admittedly risky powers. It'd be too dangerous.

"I think they did," Clark admitted, thinking it was safe enough to admit this much. "And yeah, I think the Haitian was the one responsible for actually changing my friend's memory."

But how did Claire know about the Haitian? Logan brought up a good point. Thinking about it, Clark wondered why she would know about him. If he erased her memory, then why did she remember him? It seemed...sloppy. Why erase someone's memory and yet leave them remembering just who was responsible? It was almost like the Haitian wanted to be sought out.

Clark took a bite of his fish, not really tasting it. It was probably good, like the food in Landels, but he was too preoccupied to really appreciate it. "My friend told me about him, but....well, I didn't ask on the board just yet," Clark admitted, just barely managing not to hang his head a little. "But I've been asking around and so far, nothing."

He had asked around on the bulletin board, but not for the Haitian - instead he'd been caught up in asking if anyone had been infected with Kryptonite during the night "experimental" sessions with the doctors, believing that had to do with Claire's change. Really, he should've just been asking about the Haitian himself, Clark thought, brows furrowing a little in annoyance.

[ol_canucklehead]

As usual, Logan had devoured his meal scant minutes after starting on it. He sat back and watched the boy, idly picking his teeth with the fork as he'd done at dinner the night before. It would become a habit before long, no doubt. It was in no way comparable to a cigarette or a fine Cuban cigar, but it gave him something to do with his hands after eating. Listening thoughtfully, he waited until it seemed as though the boy wasn't prepared to add anything else before speaking up again.

"So, yer sayin' this...'Haitian' guy, is wha'? One o' the doctors here? Yer frien' been dragged ta them rooms upstairs a' nigh'?" Those rooms. Those damned rooms. He would gladly let Landel do whatever he wanted to him in exchange for keeping the other patients out of those rooms. Logan caught himself gritting his teeth again, and forced himself to regain some composure. He decided to steer the conversation back toward the Sun Room's bulletin board. "Ya shoul' put a note up, kid, see if anyone else's heard anythin'. If yer worried bout people knowin' who ya are," He glanced over to the table where Parker was engaged in conversation with that damn Brock kid again, even after Logan had insisted he stay away from him. "Then jus' don' leave yer name. Or otherwise, get someone else ta do it, so no-one can trace yer handwritin'. Migh' be worth it." His mind now moved to the original topic of this conversation, that of memory loss.

"Ya sure ya wanna help yer frien' get their memory back, tho? It ain' always a good thing." Logan sighed, closed his eyes briefly, and set the fork down before taking a large swig from his glass of water. "Lemme tell ya a story, kid, one tha' migh' make ya think twice before ya go rushin' off thinkin' yer doin' a good deed." He presed on before Clark could interrupt. "There's this guy, an' ol' guy, mebbe a hunnerd years older than yerself. He had his memories taken from him too. Drove him nuts. All he could ever think 'bout was tha pas', agonizin' 'bout wha' he'd done an' could no longer remember. Fough' his way 'clear 'cross tha worl', tryin' ta fin' answers, tryin' ta fin' out who he used ta be. Well, one day, he did fin' out. Foun' it all out, an' it turns out, tha' once he knew, he really kinda wished he'd jus' left it be. Ain' tha' ironic? Foun' out he'd been used, been brainwashed n' forced ta kill people fer almos' all o' his adult life. An' not jus' bad people, either. Innocen' people. Women. Kids." Whilst Logan hadn't directly implemented himself, the pain, the bitterness, was etched pretty clearly on his face.

"An' now, he spends all o' his days huntin' down tha people who did tha' to him, so he c'n enac' his revenge. 'S'all he's got left ta do, an' every nigh' he sees tha screamin' faces o' tha people he's killed, the people he's los'. He's a broken man, with nothin' lef' ta do but ta keep on doin' wha' he was forced ta do. Ain' no way ta live." He paused, took another gulp of water, and looked Clark squarely in the eye. "Jus' think 'bout tha before ya do anythin' ya migh' regret, bub. Sometimes it's better fer a person ta ferget."

[son_ofkrypton]

Clark wasn't so sure Claire's situation was like this guy Logan was talking about. For starters, Claire wasn't that old (how could someone be that old and be able to do the things he said they could do?), and secondly, she'd just lost a week, right? A week in Landels, in fact. How would it hurt to try to recover that week for her. He was definitely more confused and conflicted about this than he was a few minutes ago.

"So what should I do?" Clark asked. He felt right now like he was out of his league here, like the kid he really was supposed to be and not some alien from some planet he'd never heard of until recently. "My friend's missing a week. She doesn't remember coming here or even meeting me."

The "she" slipped out before he could catch himself. Clark was one more aware that he really did have the worst poker face out there. Yeah, he could put up a notice on the bulletin board and was planning to, but now he wasn't sure what to do now. Maybe he should tell Claire he was looking into this?

[ol_canucklehead]

"Yer askin' fer my advice? Ain' ya been listenin' kid?" The outburst was sudden, and given without thinking. He'd just set himself up without even realising it. Dammit. Gettin' ol'. Logan sighed again.

"Look kid. Jus' do wha's righ'. But...make sure, a' leas' as sure as ya can, tha' it is righ'. Don' make mistakes like some stupid ol' man."

He'd heard the 'she' sure enough, but paid it no mind. Could be anyone of easily fifty patients here, maybe more. "A week o' this? Yer frien' is probably better off not knowin', righ'?" He didn't sound too convinced. On the one hand, sure, it was better to forget a week of abject misery, but on the other, his friend had potentially lost a lot of important information in regard to either getting out of here, or getting to Landel.

"A tha very leas', make sure it's wha' she wan's. Seen a lot o' good kids get burned tryin' ta play tha hero fer tha sake o' some nice young girl. He closed his eyes again. It wasn't only kids who made that mistake, he lamented to himself.

[son_ofkrypton]

That hit way too close to home. Clark couldn't help hanging his head a little. He'd played hero and interfered more times than he could count in people's lives - Lana, Chloe, Pete, among others - and somehow he'd just assumed that it was his business, like just because he'd been born with these powers, it meant he was the one who was supposed to be judging. Logan's words were like a wake-up call, leaving the teenager conflicted and wondering what he should do when he got back home.

What Clark did know was that he wanted to talk to Claire. Soon. Maybe he'd thought he'd had the best intentions trying to do this on his own, treating Claire like she was made of glass. Okay, so that wasn't too far from the truth: Clark sometimes - okay, a lot of the time - felt the world was made of glass or cardboard or something, what with how he had to hold himself back all the time. But this wasn't her physical safety. This was Claire's memories. This was different.

"I'll talk to her," Clark said. He managed a sheepish, guilty smile, as he clarified a little more for Logan: "I don't know if she found something out or not, but she didn't remember meeting me or being here at all. I've been thinking she found something out, but we haven't found any clues so far..."

Clark intended to. He'd only known Claire for a few days, but he did consider her a friend. It was what friends would do: they looked out for each other.

[ol_canucklehead]

As Clark's head dropped, Logan felt bad. What was he thinking? Preaching to some kid he didn't even know? Was this what he'd become? A bitter old man, sitting here thinking he knew everything, carrying on and trying to convince the 'youth of today' to try and lead a 'good life'? In a way, he supposed that was true. It seemed that the opiate of the old was to aimlessly spout their past mistakes to the young in the vain hope that they would actually listen. It would never happen, of course. But he was old. Older than he had any right to be.

Logan smiled. "Jus' don' do anythin' too hasty. Look after yer girl, no matter wha' happens. A good girl's tha mos' importan' thing in tha worl', or a' leas' tha's wha'll ya'll be thinkin' when ya fin' one." His tone was wistful, but honest. He had no idea if the 'she' in question was Clark's 'girl', but a part of him hoped so, despite his own experiences. It was one thing to just stick together, but to have that kind of closeness, well, it could drive a man to survive almost any kind of hardship. Well, almost any kind. He was still surprised that he'd survived through the loss of so many of his loves. He didn't even want to think about the one whose life he'd taken himself. But of course, he did.

[son_ofkrypton]

"She...she's not 'my' girl," Clark threw in, blushing red now. He liked Claire, but not like that! He had Lana, he told himself, and she had to be worried about him and looking for him like his other friends and his family. But he didn't have to like Claire that way to feel like he had to help her. He wanted to help her because it was the right thing to do. "Friends help each other out. Or they're supposed to."

But Logan was right about how it felt to find that special someone. Clark had always been teased by Chloe and Pete for his "crush" on Lana Lang, but he'd always felt that she was that special someone...even if he couldn't get within five feet of her before without feeling sick. But without the kryptonite necklace and helping her through Whitney's death, their relationship had taken a turn for the more serious with his birthday a few days ago. At least Logan knew what it felt like to feel around someone like that - Clark felt bad to admit this, even to himself, but Logan looked like more the loner time than someone to get all romantic.

[ol_canucklehead]

It was all Logan could do to stop himself from bursting into laughter as he watched Clark turn crimson. How funny it was, that he'd started out the conversation with the intent of cheering up the kid opposite him, only to turn once again to the bitterness of his own past, and then have the tables turned when this formerly morose boy was putting a smile on his own countenance. "Sorry. Din't mean ta embarrass ya, kid."

The smile faded quickly however as his hearing picked up on what was happening at Parker's table. It seemed the conversation was swiftly becoming less and less civilised. He watched as Peter's new friend suddenly lunged at the blonde kid with a fork, impressed at how quickly the young man had moved, but grudgingly equally impressed at Brock's catch.

Gritting his teeth again, Logan half-stood before returning to his seat. At least Parker had someone to watch his back, and it wasn't as though Logan should be going around babysitting his roommate all the time. That said, he would step in if Brock tried to land something on Parker, and drugs be damned, it would be a good long time before Brock forgot that if it happened.

He refocused his attention on Clark, and thought ruefully about the young man's last comment. Truer wor's ain' never been spoken. He realised he hadn't said that aloud, and it was only polite to respond.

"Ya got tha' righ' kid. Sometimes frien's're even more importan' than tha' special someone." He looked wistful again. He couldn't even count the times that friends had helped him through the death of a woman he'd loved, there seemed so many. Although still in the back of his mind, a niggling thought was still trying to convince him that he wasn't the sort of person who was deserving of friends. But still they stuck by him. He was thankful for that.