[For Clinic Visitors] Dated 15 July 2011

[broken_brushes]

Feeling physically bad was not something I was used to. As a teenager, I'd had my wisdom teeth out, and once when I was about twelve, I'd gotten a really nasty case of the flu. There had been a few times when I'd had a cough or the sniffles, but for the most part I was lucky enough to have lived both of my lives healthy. I wasn't used to my body

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[youlosetrack]

He's still recovering, still adjusting to using crutches, and though he's moved into an actual room, Mace still finds himself in the clinic often. Between Lexie's check ups and visiting Tunny it's as if he still lives there.

None of this makes Mace happy -- the few moments he feels anything approaching contentment, it's when he's outside and even then, it's hard getting used to all that open space -- and he likes it even less when he hears Shari's wound up in the clinic. His hand doesn't ache as much today (which he knows is because most of the problem is now gone), so it's no excuse for how much of a mood he's in when he gets to the clinic to visit her, frowning at the bruises he can see.

"What happened to you?"

[broken_brushes]

Worse than the physical repercussions of my little jaunt down below was the guilt. Had I not been in such bad shape, I am pretty sure Dean wouldn't have been talking to me at all, and while it wasn't what I would have done, I couldn't exactly blame him. Something about Mace, of all people, being worried for me made it sting all the more.

"I was stupid," I replied after a long pause, the brush going slack in my hand. It wasn't the most descriptive reply, but it was definitely accurate. I cleared my throat. "I went down to Rapture and it didn't go very well."

[youlosetrack]

The urge to scold her rises quickly, but Mace bites it back with little trouble. He can be angry all he wants that she's hurt, but it was her own choice to go down there, and it's not as if he has any right to tell her what to do.

"Are you okay?"

[broken_brushes]

My gaze dropped to my lap as I hesitated. For once, it seemed wise to consider whether I actually wanted to shoot back the typical blasé reply. If there's one thing that near-death and actual death experiences have in common, it's that they give you a boatload of perspective.

"No," I finally decided on, and glanced back up at Mace. "Not really. But it's kind of a long story."

[red_ponytail]

Bill hadn't been down to the place known as Rapture, but seeing Shari laid up in bed made him wish he'd done. He knew, of course, that Dean was more than capable, had done all he could. But Bill couldn't help but think he could have helped, somehow, if he'd been there. He could have, at the very least, been another set of eyes.

What mattered now, though, was not his own guilt over what might or might not have been. Shari was the important thing, the girl who'd come to be like another sister to Bill, even now that his actual sister'd finally come back to the island. He hesitated only a half a second in the doorway, steeling himself to be strong for her, even though it killed him to see her hurt, and in the clinic. Then he walked over, sat himself carefully on the side of Shari's bed, and gently took the brush from her before starting to brush her hair himself. His own long hair was fairly thick, and he'd had plenty of practise getting knots out.

[broken_brushes]

I don't consider myself a particularly emotional person. My tendency to bottle things up and play it cool was one of my biggest failings, the massive hurdle I never knew whether I wanted to overcome. Sometimes, though, even the strongest walls are made weak enough to crumble.

When Bill lifted the brush from my hand and began carefully untangling my hair without a word, all of the things I'd been struggling so long to keep pushed down seemed to bubble up all at once. Broken arm cradled against my abdomen, I covered my eyes with my free and sucked in a shaky breath.

"Thank you," I whispered, and wiped hastily at the tears that had begun to fall down my cheeks.

[red_ponytail]

"Hey," Bill said softly, pausing long enough to lean in carefully and kiss Shari's forehead. He lingered there for a moment, his hand lightly cupping her cheek, then sat back again and continued to work out the knots in her hair. "It's gonna be okay, yeah? You'll be all right." She was going get better, that was what mattered.

[broken_brushes]

"I'm sorry," I said as emotion surged suddenly forward. Whatever nick Bill had put in my wall by silently offering help had been enough to crumble the entire thing.

"I'm so sorry, Bill," I repeated between hitching breaths. "I'm sorry I didn't think more, I'm sorry I've been so horrible lately." The words just tumbled out. I couldn't stop them. "I know I haven't been a good friend to you since George left, and I'm just- I'm so sorry."

[badblood_rising]

Sam’s still more than a little bit pissed. He feels he has every reason to be, and what’s more he knows how to hold onto anger. But he doesn’t let that anger consume him and he knows that in the grand scheme of things, Shari and Neil’s stupid, dangerous hijinks are small potatoes. The only people they ended up harming were themselves. Sam wasn’t happy about that by a long shot, but the bruises that painted Shari’s face, those healed. They went away. And his annoyance with the pair of them could fade, too.

Just not yet.

He entered the clinic room with only the barest pause to make sure she wasn’t sleeping or had a visitor, and moved to grab a seat by her bed. It’s petty, but he almost enjoys watching her struggle with her hair, just a little.

[broken_brushes]

The moment Sam sat down, I gave up on my hair. I looked horrible and I knew it; having the rat's nest of my hair combed out wouldn't make much difference, and I doubted he cared anyway. Brush cradled in my lap, I stared back at him a long time.

"You can go ahead and say it, I won't argue with you," I finally prompted, then looked away. I'd been monumentally stupid. I wasn't going to try to deny that.

[badblood_rising]

Sam paused for a moment, considered actually saying it, then shook his head as his eyes drifted down to the brush in her hands.

"I don't have to say it if you get it," he said quietly. A huff of a laugh followed, dry and weak and with only the slightest bitter crack. "That was one of the things I always hated about dad. Harping on the same things over and over, even after I learned my lesson. And look how I turned out." Sam paused again, but not long enough for Shari to interject. "Just promise you'll be safer next time."

[broken_brushes]

"There won't be a next time." Whether he meant Rapture or simply potentially dangerous situations didn't matter. Had I the choice, I intended to leave the heroics to people better qualified.

"I'm sorry," I added after a pause, and finally turned my gaze back to Sam. I felt like I'd never be done apologizing.

[quileutejacob]

Jacob hadn't gone down to Rapture mostly because Belle hadn't and he figured the ITF probably had enough to deal with without him going and getting injured but he wasn't surprised Shari had gone. She was on the Council, after all, and it made sense that they would go and check out a new part of the island as much as the ITF.

When he'd heard Shari was injured, though, he couldn't help but be worried even though she was more than capable of taking care of herself. She looked...bad, but at least she was still mostly in one piece.

"You know you're not allowed to get injured, right?"

[broken_brushes]

One of the really nice things about Jacob was that I knew he'd never judge me, no matter how boneheaded I was. I deserved to feel bad about the choices I'd made down in Rapture, make no mistake, especially when you factored in that it wasn't just me being put in danger. But that simple steadiness was nice all the same.

"I think some of the people down in Rapture missed that memo," I replied, and paused in struggling with my hair to offer him a faint smile.

[quileutejacob]

Jacob gestured toward the brush. He knew next to nothing about hair but he could figure out pretty easily that Shari wasn't doing so well with it. Maybe it would make her feel a little more human even thought she was still laid up in the clinic. That was more than enough incentive for his part.

"Uh, do you need help with that? I can't put bows in it or anything, but I can probably brush it easier than you're managing right now."

[broken_brushes]

"I think I'm okay without bows, actually," I said with a soft laugh, and afforded the brush a long, considering look. I wasn't the best at asking for help, but under the circumstances, I probably needed to accept it.

"But if you're offering, yeah," I added, more quietly, and held the brush Jacob's way. "Thank you."

[off_the_ceiling]

"Wow, when you set your mind to something, you really follow through," said Jess, with a combination of amusement and admiration. "You know if it was me I would've let my head become a bird's nest for about six weeks. I'd amass a fantastic collection of hats."

[broken_brushes]

"I'm beginning to strongly consider the merits of headwear, I won't lie," I replied with a huff of laughter. "I don't know if I'm prepared to wear the pink bonnet the box tried to give me last Halloween, but I could go for a ball cap. Or a beret. Maybe a fedora, like Dick Tracy."

[off_the_ceiling]

"You could rock the fedora," said Jess, sitting down next to her. "If you're going to go hat, go big, though. A ball cap is way too pedestrian. You need something ridiculously tall, ridiculously floppy, or ridiculously cool."

[broken_brushes]

"Now I just want to pretend to be Stevie Nicks." My smile grew a bit brighter, more genuine. "I'm going to have to look for hats and long skirts and gypsy blouses. I'll wander the halls singing random Fleetwood Mac."