They had lights inside their eyes, they had lights inside their eyes.

[notaparker]

Not that the clinic isn't a marvel of coconut-radio-esque science, but it's a relief to be out of there. Lying around with no company but my own thoughts -- and, okay, a reasonably steady stream of visitors bringing snacks and episodes of Archer -- isn't really my idea of a good time. I'm not always the biggest fan of my own company

Comments

[floozyfacade]

"Jessica?" Olive walks a little faster when she sees her, hurrying over to stand near her, a hand going automatically to her elbow. "Hey," she says, "what are you doing?" It's a dumb question, she's obviously going somewhere. Scratch that, she's obviously trying to go somewhere, and Olive didn't even realize today was supposed to be the day she gets out of the clinic. Some friend she is, losing track of these things. She's on the way to the Compound herself with a ways yet to go, but not even with the intention of visiting Jess, just the bookshelf, but God, it seems like everything's crazy this week, everyone's hurting, and she has no way to fix it or, apparently, any ability to remember what's going on.

[notaparker]

Chase would call this the product of my psychotic one woman wolf pack thing. I don't think I have such a thing, and I wouldn't call it... no, actually, if I did, I would call it that, it's the kind of thing I would say, too. Still, that's not why I didn't exactly advertise that I was allowed out and about now. I just didn't want a fuss. I don't feel like I've earned one.

"Walking?" I venture, one arm around my stomach and the other on the tree. "Not right now, obviously, but sort of... generally, that's what we're going for."

[floozyfacade]

"No offense," Olive says, raising a hand and wincing slightly, "but that kind of looks like it's not really... happening." Obviously it must have at some point, seeing as how Jessica's some distance from the Compound, let alone the clinic, but it seems to her like strenuous exercise is really not what's needed here. Although it's strange to think of walking as strenuous exercise. "At the moment."

[notaparker]

"It hasn't... not been happening," I say, although my protest is kind of mild, and not just because I've learned better than to try and say things in a way that requires a lot of breath at the moment. "It just happens in fits and starts. Mostly fits, admittedly. Occasional starts."

And what's the alternative? If I can't make it to the graveyard, I'm hardly going to make it to my hut, twice as far away, and if I can't do that, I might as well stay in the clinic. You better believe that's not happening.

[slowspeedster]

While some people would probably call it crazy, Bart's gut reaction to seeing someone determined to get somewhere even if it hurt or killed them was to make sure they got there. That kind of determination meant that they'd try again the moment you turned your back, so it was safer to give in. He'd been on both sides of the line more times than he could easily count.

So all he did was stop and lean against a second tree and look at Jessica. "So, where are we going?"

[notaparker]

I do appreciate that there's no implication that I should be heading back to bed, to do some more resting. Because I shouldn't, because I've been released. I'm still under the weather, but I am free and clear.

As soon as I can get to where I'm going without stopping every few minutes, I will feel considerably more free and clear.

"Um," I say, hesitating on whether to say. It seems kind of odd, but, on the other hand, super speedy guy who's had zombie run-ins. There's odd and then there's odd. "The graveyard? You don't have to follow along if it's not your bag."

[slowspeedster]

"You got this far, so it's important to you. Don't get me started on the time Robin decided that he had to go into the field with a dislocated shoulder and a concussion," Bart said, smiling reassuringly. His face had frozen for a moment at the mention of the graveyard, but he controlled it quickly enough.

"I can take some of your weight if you need it. Besides, if you trip or something and need to go back to the clinic, I'd feel guilty for leaving. The only grave for someone I know isn't occupied, anyway. Another of this place's sick jokes."

[notaparker]

"I can walk, just... slowly," I say. Everything, slowly. It's annoying. Walking, talking, they're things I tend to do quickly, and not just because I'm from New York.

I take a deep breath, wincing slightly at the twinge as they inflate, and remove myself from the tree. I've sort of committed myself to the walking, here.

"This place is big on those, huh?"

I almost try to dissuade him from coming along, but he played the feeling guilty card. I'm powerless against it, because I understand it so well. Especially right now.

[notaparker]

It seems like he was headed in the same direction as I was, but there could be other things along those paths. Heck, maybe he doesn't even know where it's going and is just wandering. I've done that, myself.

Maybe I should mention? It can be kind of alarming to stumble upon, you know, graves.

I guess it's a normal part of a community. Not that we're a normal community, and it's way less full than expected, what with people disappearing rather than dying...

Little fuller, now.

Gosh, I'm morbid, today.

"I promise I won't fall over on you," I say, trying a smile. "Uh, hi."

[notaparker]

"It's just a flesh wound," I say, "you know, of... most of my flesh."

I don't suppose he'll get the Monty Python reference. Wait, is that racist? I mean, he's doing well, language-wise, but he doesn't seem fluent. I, obviously, would be far more out of my depth in his language. What with not speaking it.

Maybe I should ease up on the references.

Maybe I should drink a rainbow and heal all my injuries.

"I can walk. I'm not winning any races, but I can manage. Um, thanks, though. Jessica, I'm Jessica."

[leftwithmybones]

McCoy's been running since he woke up in the welcome arms of youth. Every chance he gets, he wakes up and he heads out for a run. He tries to avoid the main pathway and normally that means cutting through the graveyard. Typically, that takes him far away from people.

Today, well, today it doesn't. When he sees who it is, he's not surprised. McCoy slows to a stop, breathing in sharply as he takes her in. "Heard you found some trouble," he says, trying to keep his voice light to keep the worry out of it.

[notaparker]

Oh, humor as a way of avoiding things, you are my favorite thing.

"I wouldn't say found, I wasn't looking," I say. "I just kinda tripped over it. People really shouldn't leave their trouble lying in the middle of the street for people to... trip... over."

That was a lot of words. That was too many words. Not normally, but at present, I'm going to have to take a moment to get the old lungs back to capacity.

[leftwithmybones]

He'd lingered over the operating doctors when she got brought in, but at the time, he'd had just a bit too much to drink. It's a sobering thought -- horrible as that wording is -- but it's showed him that maybe he ought to be a bit more stringent in taking care of himself. "You okay?" he asks, a bit quieter than before. "All joking bullshit aside?"

[notaparker]

"All joking bullshit aside?" I say, then shrug, tightly, slightly hunched in on myself. "Not really. I'll heal. It's fine. I get to live, so, you know, that's swell."

And more than any of the denizens of Rapture get to say.