damned_institute | Day 35: Bus 1

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Day 35: Bus 1

Sanji woke up groggily to find his nurse already in his room. He gave a sleepy and half-hearted "Buh?" before realizing that nurse meant dayshift, and he'd fallen asleep after dinner.

"Shit!" He sat up abruptly, which gave his nurse a start. "Nami-swan!" How had he allowed himself to sleep through an entire night? What if she'd tried to return to the basement? What if she'd been waiting for him to appear and protect her? He'd let her down!

"There, there. Calm down." His nurse set a familiar flannel shirt down on the bed and Sanji eyed it with confusion. The last time he'd worn that had been... "Sorry I didn't knock or anything, but I was so excited~!" A pair of jeans followed the shirt. "Today is the field trip into town! Aren't you looking forward to it?"

The chef had to admit, the town had been an interesting enough place the last time he'd been. If he could find Nami early on he might even be able to lead her around... So he didn't complain too much as he changed into the other outfit (which he really wished they'd let him keep - anything was better than the regular gray) and was led out to the first of the buses.

He took a seat near the front, hopefully easily visible to any of his crew - especially to a certain member of his crew.

[for Usopp!]

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Peter wasn't quite sure what had happened, but right as he and Harry had made their way over the wall for that second try, blackness had faded in and morning had come. He woke up suddenly, heart pounding with that sense that something was wrong. That transfer from night to day was way too disorienting at times.

But then he saw the empty bed and his panic grew as he stood up, running a hand through his hair and trying not to jump to any conclusions. The other bed had displaced sheets, so Logan had to be all right, at least to an extent. He knew the man couldn't be doing all that well, which meant that he needed to find him as soon as possible.

Spotting the same set of clothing that he had been given for the last Doyleton trip, Peter changed into the shirt, jacket, and jeans before a nurse came to find him. As they started to make their way down the hall toward the buses (and the nurse gave him his bagged lunch), he decided to bite the bullet and take some initiative.

"Excuse me, miss?"

She smiled over her shoulder at him. "Yes, Peter?"

"I wanted to talk to James, so would it be all right if we were put on the same bus?" He didn't see what was so terrible about that request, and all he could do was cross his fingers.

"Of course! It's good to see that the two of you get along."

Peter let out a sigh of relief as he was escorted onto the first bus, shoving his hands in his pockets as he once again had to push back those high school memories. He started down the aisle until he spotted Logan on his own and then quickly moved over to take the seat next to him. He couldn't help but put a hand on the other man's shoulder comfortingly, though he wasn't quite sure what to say yet.

Still lost in his melancholy reverie, Logan paid no attention at all to any of the other patients, or the staff, as he sat, shoulders slumped, just staring at his hands. Those hands, the hands that had hurt, had killed so many, either by the will of others or by his own. Had he ever truly had his own will, though? Or had he always had his strings pulled, even when he thought he was acting for himself? He decided he would never truly know.

Logan was so far away in his own thoughts that he hadn't even picked up the familiar scent of his roommate as he approached. At the touch of a hand on his shoulder, he recoiled reflexively, bringing the arm closest to him up as if to block, before letting it drop as he realised who it belonged to. His eyes were sunken pools of despair, and he held the haunted look of one who had lost too much, too many times over. He met his friends eyes for less than a second, before deciding he couldn't look into them anymore for the time being. In truth, he didn't feel he was worthy of such. The nausea rolled in his stomach once more.

"Parker, I..." He trailed off, unsure of what to say. "It...it was bad." He wasn't usually the most articulate of people, but this was a step down, even for him. He stared down at his hands again, hanging limp in his lap, only this time not even seeing them. All he could see was blood, and broken bodies.

When the other man pulled away, Peter regretted having made that physical contact in the first place. He didn't know Logan well enough to know how best to cheer the man up, but he figured that they needed to talk this out now, rather than letting the man simmer in his own misery.

It was obvious that his roommate was taking it really hard, and Peter wished that there was some way that he could undo what had happened to his friend. But he wasn't all that powerful, and it didn't seem like he could stop what was going on in this place. He was starting to feel like this was too big for him, and realizing why the others had been so intent on working together.

Especially when they had to be there for each other when stuff like this happened. Peter let out a sigh and nodded, not doubting that Logan had been through hell last night. "Where were you?" he asked, knowing that it didn't matter all that much and yet not sure what else he could say. "Look, Logan... It wasn't your fault, all right? You've come across other patients like that before, and you've seen how they don't have any control over what they're doing." As much as Peter believed what he was saying, he knew that the words would probably seem empty. If it had been him instead of Logan, he would have felt just as terrible about it.

Still, hopefully the fact that he was here and talking to him now was some small help.

Still unable to meet the younger man's gaze, the mutant could at least listen to him, although the words sounded distant, as if coming from the other end of a very long tunnel. It was several seconds before he responded, but in the meantime he at least managed to acknowledge his own hands again, for all the comfort that gave him. They twitched spasmodically. "Sun Room." He let out a long, slow breath, and his lip curled slightly at the faint aftertaste of cigar that still lingered there.

A few more seconds passed. "There were a lotta people comin' through there...a lotta...kids." The memories were coming back thick and fast, and none of them were good. The twitching hands balled into fists. "Don' think I killed no-one, bu', there was...a lo' o' blood." An image struck him suddenly, that of Mikami lying there, split nearly in half, lying helplessly in a pool of his own blood. Logan was suddenly struck with the intense desire to bite his own tongue in half.

There was a slow, very faint grinding sound emanating from him. The sound of very sharp teeth grating against one another as his jaw clenched. "No' my faul'? Who ya tryin' ta kid, bub? I coulda stopped it, coulda fough' 'em when they tried ta take me away. Coulda..." he trailed off again, feeling helpless. So helpless. The mighty Wolverine, who had once gone toe-to-toe with Omega Red for 36 hours straight. The mighty Wolverine, who had once survived for six months trapped under a glacier by eating his own flesh, over and over again. The mighty Wolverine, who had risen from the dead more times than he could count...was now just a small boy, lost in the woods.

"Yeah, I seen it. Bu' 's a whole diff'ren' story when it happens ta you. Other memories rose again now, ones from before he ended up in this mess. "This ain' tha firs' time this's happened ta me. I though' I was ou', though' I was finally free. Guess I was wrong." He still hadn't turned his head. All he wanted now was to just end it all. But the curse of immortality loomed as large as ever in his mind. This was his curse. To forever wander the world, inflicting pain at the whims of others. He hated it. Hated himself.

If it had been the Sun Room, that could only mean that Wolverine had been forced to deal with countless patients trying to get by. It didn't sound like he had been lucky enough to be knocked out like the girl on the recreational field from the other night, either. Peter held back a sigh, figuring that that was probably because the man was so powerful.

He noticed how Logan kept looking at his hands, and Peter was pretty sure he knew what the man was thinking. He was remembering what he had done with them; the people he had hurt; the blood he had spilled. It wasn't something he could ever take back, but it wasn't a burden he should have to bear, either. Still, Peter felt hypocritical thinking that, since he would have been beating himself up the exact same way if he'd been the one they took.

"I don't think anyone can fight it," he pointed out, turning to give his roommate a hard stare. "You know you can't dwell on the what-ifs. You'll just end up destroying yourself if you can't accept what happened in one way or another." It was hard for him to be so harsh when Logan must have been going through so much, but it seemed like this might be the only way to get through to the man.

His tone softened then, and he kept talking. "The best thing you can do is try and find some of the people and apologize for what you've done. I'll bet you that most of them will understand that you never meant for that to happen." It still had happened, of course, but there was no way to undo it. All Logan could do was try to make up for it somehow.

Parker's change in tone caused Logan to finally lift his head and regard his young friend, as much as he pained him to do it. Despite all he had done, all he had been through, the man still had his pride, and that was what hurt perhaps most of all. It had all but been stripped away, once again. It had been over thirty years since he'd been able to break free of the machinations of those who sought to, and did, control him, but since he'd gotten his memories back, it felt like last week. And now, it felt like last night. Except, last night, he had been reigned back in once more. No matter how far he ran, no matter what good he tried to do, it seemed that sooner or later, someone would find him, bring him in, and turn him into a weapon all over again. He was sick of it. Sick of it all.

Forcing himself to meet Peter's gaze, he listened, finally, truly hearing the boy for the first time since he'd stepped onto the bus. The unwavering stare, so intense in one so young, bore into Logan's very soul, carrying with it the truth of the Spider's words. But then again, he was the Wolverine. He had convinced himself that he could fight against anything, and eventually he would triumph. Perhaps that was the problem. Perhaps he'd been fooling himself for far too long.

"Yer righ', kid. Bu' I destroyed m'self a lon' time ago. Don' matter if I accep' it or no', go' no choice bu' ta keep on livin'. Har' ta do otherwise when ya can' be killed." There should have been an inkling of wry humour in that statement, but there was none. Only cold, hard truth.

He barked a short, hard, humourless laugh in response to Peter's talk of apologies, however. "Apologise? Wha's tha' gonna do? Apologies ain' nothin' bu' empty words, kid. Ya think I c'n jus' apologise ta all tha people I've killed over tha years? All tha people I've loved n' cared abou' who've either been hur', or killed, because o' me?" He looked away again, suddenly feeling bad that he had snapped at the boy, when he knew he was only trying to help.

"No, wha' I gotta do now, is atone." Another memory from the night before sprang to the front of his thoughts. Takaya, pathetically holding his shattered wrist as he sat on the floor of the Sun Room, blood pouring from his head. But, I'm going to kick your ass once their fucking hold over you is gone though. He deserved it, deserved to be tied up and soundly beaten by each and everyone one of the patients he'd injured last night.

It seemed that for better or for worse, Peter had managed to break Logan out of the funk he had been in, and he got the feeling that even if the man was arguing with him now, it had to be better than watching him stare blankly at his hands.

"I wasn't talking about all that," Peter said with a frown once the other man had said his piece. "I'm talking about what happened last night. You're going to have to see the people you attacked on an everyday basis. You might as well talk things over with them now." That was what Peter would have wanted to do in Logan's place, but they weren't exactly similar. At least the man seemed to realize that he couldn't just give up, even considering what happened.

But he was probably still going to beat himself up about it.

Logan's last statement made Peter raise an eyebrow. "Atone," he echoed. "But what does that actually mean? What are you going to do about it?" If all it translated to was feeling like crap about the whole thing, then Peter didn't see what the point was. He knew that Logan couldn't fix what he had done, but there were still certain actions he could take. That was Peter's opinion on the matter, anyway.

Logan's gaze returned to meet Peter's once more, although the empty sadness there had been replaced by a look of steely resolve. His eyes bore into his friend's own, and would have been intimidating, if that was his intention. "Ya migh' no've been, bu' I was. 'S' tha same, 's'no differen' from tha other times. Whether it happened here, or in Siberia, or tha jungles o' Brazil, 's'all tha same ta me. Seems 's'all I been doin', m'whole life. Hurtin' people, an' rarely gettin' a say in whether or no' they deserve it. Worse still is when they make me believe these people deserve it, 'specially when they don'. An' tha's wha' I mean by 'atone', kid. I got a chance. I know I can' change tha pas', can' change wha' happened las' nigh' anymore than I c'n change tha things I done fifty years ago. Bu' I c'n make up fer it, or a' leas', try ta." He now held the look of a man possessed, of someone trying to convince himself that if he did enough good, all of the bad memories would just melt away. They wouldn't, of course, but if he kept telling himself that, he might just be able to sleep at night.

"Wha' I mean is, tha I'm gonna try'n do everythin' I can ta help whoever I can. M'life ain' m'own no more. It belongs ta whoever I c'n keep from hurtin', even if it means takin' tha pain for 'em. I don' know wha' tha odds're o' gettin' people outta here, or shuttin' Landel down. Don' know how lon' it'll take. Bu' I swear ta ya, kid, tha' I'm gonna stay here as lon' as it takes, 'n figh' wit' eveythin' I have, until I done both." Logan's fists were clenched again now, and he was talking through his teeth. He meant every word of it.

After several seconds, he relaxed, the fire slowly fading from his eyes. He took a deep breath, looked down briefly, then back up at his roommate. "Yer righ' again tho, Parker. In tha shor' term, I guess I gotta a' leas' 'paper over tha cracks'. I'll try'n keep an eye out fer any o' tha kids I tussled wit' las' nigh', an' a' tha very leas', they c'n ven' at me." A half-smile, again with little humour. "A' leas' I c'n take it if they feel they gotta pay me back."

Hearing the man reflect back on things that had happened years ago, on places that Peter had never dreamed of visiting - it just reminded him how different their lives were. Or rather, how much longer Logan had lived. Peter knew that he had just been telling Harry that someone wasn't more right just because they were older, but having it put into perspective like this was still somewhat overwhelming. He felt like they were on completely different levels.

Still, it was easier to follow along with the other man's logic now, and Peter nodded as Logan explained himself. In the end, their goals were still the same: protect others, and stop what was going on here at Landel's. Now Logan just had that much more of a drive to do it.

Peter knew the man was going to be hurting for a while after this, but at least they would have the chance to talk it over every night at dinner. He wasn't sure how much of a help he could be, but he could still make the effort.

"Well, looks like you've got your head on straight," he said with a small smile. "Just don't let this drag you down. That's what they want to happen - they want to break us apart until we're not strong enough to fight back anymore, so..." He paused then, figuring that Logan already knew all of this - though it probably helped to hear it from someone else.

The buses were coming to a stop, and Peter glanced out the window for a moment. "Did you have any plans for the day?" He had been so busy worrying about his roommate that he'd barely been thinking about the field trip.

Even in the brief time they'd been able to talk on the bus ride in, Logan felt a little better. Not good, but better. This, he reminded himself, was why it was important to work with others when he could. Sometimes just having someone there who was willing to listen could make a significant difference, could help to ease the burden on his old, tired shoulders.

"Yeah, if ya say so," he smiled a little wider at the 'head on straight' comment. That was Logan though, always fluctuating between 'wise old man' and 'unrelenting psychopath'. It was a hard way to live, at times. "Don' worry too much 'bout me, kid. Sure, I''ll hur' fer a while. Always do. Bu' it won' drag me down. If things like this did, I woulda given up a lon' time ago. I'll keep fightin' till I'm dead, kid. Ya go' my wor' on tha'."

He too sensed that they had almost reached their destination. Suddenly feeling eager to get moving, he stood before the bus had even come to a complete stop, and his eyes tracked the scene past the window also. "'Spose I shoul' try n' fin' Cole. Guessin' he prob'ly wansta know wha' happened las' nigh', too. Other'n tha'...maybe I'll take yer advice n' try an' track down some o' tha kids I crossed." He turned away from the window as the bus pulled to a complete halt, looking down at his friend.

"Hey, thanks, kid. I appreciate it." A warm smile this time, genuine. He was glad he wasn't alone in this mess, and wanted to show it as best he could.

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Day 35: Bus 1

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