damned_institute | Day 37: Breakfast

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Day 37: Breakfast

[for Sylar, I believe]

At the sound of the intercom, Wally jerked awake and blinked around at the room. He’d fallen asleep. He should have been up and keeping an eye open for ZEX, but he’d fallen asleep waiting on his bed.

“Idiot,” he groaned, ruffling his hair and sighing in annoyance. “Way to help a guy out, hotshot.” Hopefully ZEX hadn’t dropped by and thought he’d left or something, or wouldn’t be too mad at him for just forgetting about it like that. If he was lucky, he’d be able to catch up with the other patient at some point and explain what had happened.

Rolling himself a little awkwardly out of the bed, Wally took the opportunity to stretch his injured leg and test how well it was holding up. It was feeling a bit better, not so much that he could abandon his crutch or that it didn’t pull painfully if he wasn’t careful, but better. Tony had apparently made it through the night in one piece as well, which was a relief. He really didn’t feel comfortable about the thought of his roommate wandering about on his own with an injured arm. Not when Wally himself could relax and fall asleep in the apparent safety of their room.

Yeah, he wasn’t going to let himself forget that one in a hurry.

It was at that moment that the door swung open to admit one of the nurses. She seemed surprised to find him awake and ready to go already, but smiled warmly. “Hungry, are we Mr. West? Well in that case, let’s get you to the cafeteria. The staff have provided some delicious French Toast as well as a range of other foods I’m sure you’ll like. Now will you be needing a hand with your leg, dear?”

“No thanks, I can handle it,” Wally replied, smiling back. After all, it probably wasn’t the nurses’ fault that this place was so messed up, so it wasn’t like picking fights with them would do anything. With a cheery wave goodbye, Wally slowly made his way to the cafeteria, keeping a tight grip on his crutch all the while. Obtaining a plate of food was only slightly less difficult than it had been yesterday – he didn’t have the painkillers to work around this time – but he managed well enough, coming away from the buffet with a tray containing a plate piled high with slices of French Toast and slathered in maple syrup, butter, and sugar, as well as a glass of juice. Not quite as good as some coffee would be right now, but the sugar would hopefully make up for it. And, with how few people were here at the moment, he could afford to take more food than might have been considered ‘normal’ – he’d have most of it gone by the time anyone came to keep him company, then he could just worry about how many extra serves would be allowed before he aroused suspicion.

Feeling pretty happy with how things were looking so far, Wally hummed faintly to himself as he dug in to his breakfast.

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They hadn't been able to make it to the morgue before the night ended and Qui-Gon awoke with the medical supplies he'd collected strewn about his bed. He still didn't know their uses, except from what Leon had told him: the rest he would have to find out on his own. Sitting down at the desk, the Jedi Master quickly jotted down the writing on the small boxes and bottles on a piece of paper, folding it carefully to take with him; he'd have to ask if any Earthians could recognize them and explain them, although he did already get a good inkling from the labels.

Arriving at the cafeteria, Qui-Gon glanced around for Obi-Wan, wanting to know what he had been up to since they last spoke. It wasn't that he needed to monitor him, not like when he had been a young boy and a fresh Padawan. He was a full-fledged Jedi and Qui-Gon would expect different things of him now; Sanzo's death was still fresh in his mind and he knew Obi-Wan would be taking it hard still, despite his doubts and Qui-Gon's council. But he would have to accept what happened in the basement, unfortunate as it was, and move on. It was the Jedi way.

Still, these days, Qui-Gon sometimes wondered about the Jedi way. He kept it to himself, for now, but the seeds of doubt were there and he was well-aware of them.

Starting in on the breakfast, Qui-Gon ate as he waited for Obi-Wan.

Nightshift had ended a bit sooner than Obi-Wan had anticipated, unfortunately. Of course, without any proper planning or preparation, that in itself wasn't so surprising. Still, it had been good to run into Toph, even if they hadn't gotten anything done.

As Obi-Wan made his way to the cafeteria (accompanied by a nurse, of course), he made sure to check the bulletin. The news of Renji's death was unexpected and troubling. They hadn't known each other terribly well, but there was truth that the death of one affected all of the patients in some way or another.

He had personal experience with that, after all.

It was with a small frown that Obi-Wan finally entered the line and allowed the nurses to help put together his breakfast. By now he was accustomed to the strange Earthian dishes, so his mind was free to focus on more pressing matters. He was more than convinced that he'd made the appropriate decision in not informing the general populace about what was beyond south hall, but the Jedi knew that was only going to be a short-term solution in limiting the number of deaths in Landel's. In the end, there were going to be people who were going to ignore his advice and find what was in the arena, and Obi-Wan doubted they'd be prudent enough to keep the information to themselves.

Once Obi-Wan stepped away from the line with his tray, it didn't take him long to locate Qui-Gon. After their conversation from yesterday morning, the Jedi was actually a bit hesitant in approaching him, but he knew it would be foolish to keep his distance. As a Jedi, he was expected to put aside his feelings for the sake of duty, and being in Landel's afforded nothing different.

After setting down his tray across from his former Master, Obi-Wan sat down, but not before giving the other man a silent, polite nod in greeting.

Obi-Wan was...hesitant. It wasn't like him. Qui-Gon knew he could be cautious, but this wasn't like usual. But the fact that he faced it and sat down across from his former Master anyway said volumes.

"Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon said. His voice was deceptively neutral, but in truth, he was always glad to see his friend. The trials they had been through had forged something that wasn't just the relationship between Master and Padawan; he felt more connected to Obi-Wan than he had to any other being in his life, with one exception...and it was a dangerous road he walked, he knew, and sooner or later, a choice would present itself to him.

He still didn't know what he would choose then.

"I found some medical supplies - medicine, I believe," Qui-Gon said, getting to business since he knew a "good morning" would probably be a lie to Obi-Wan; it'd be better to let him know about the medicine he'd picked up last night. They would need them for when they went to investigate the North Door, sooner or later, and he wanted to be as prepared as they could be. "Here's the list," unfolding the paper, he set it on the table and slid it across with one hand to Obi-Wan could take a look.

It was so like Qui-Gon to get straight to the point with little preamble. Obi-Wan was somewhat relieved that he brought up something unrelated to what they had talked about yesterday, and it gave their conversation a definite focus.

Hearing about the medicine his former Master had found certainly peaked Obi-Wan's interest. Curious, he reached out for the the piece of paper and glanced over it. None of the substances were things he'd heard of before, but that would make sense, considering his unfortunate lack of knowledge regarding Earthian life. "We'll likely need to ask someone about these," the younger Jedi said after a moment. "The bulletin might be useful, but it won't be too difficult to find an Earthian to speak to personally if we need to do that instead."

It went without saying that they would need to find more information before putting them to good use. With medicine there came possible unforeseen factors like side-effects, allergies, and things of that nature. And with a backwards planet like Earth, Obi-Wan wasn't certain he wanted to leave anything like that to chance.

"I wish I could say my night was as productive as yours," he said dryly as he returned the list to Qui-Gon, its contents committed to memory. "I did run into Toph again, however, and we briefly spoke." She was someone Obi-Wan was interested in learning more about, and possibly working with in the future, but it was difficult to make definite plans like that when people were constantly coming and going through Landel's walls.

Yes, it had occurred to Qui-Gon that there might be some issues with using standard-issue Earthian medicine - he didn't need to hear it spoken aloud to see that particular thought running in his former Padawan's head. They were humans, like the Earthians, but there was no telling how big the differences between their kind and the Earth humans were - there could be...complications if they took the medicines. His theory was that the Earthians here were former settlers from thousands of years ago, from expeditions out into Wild Space that hadn't ever come back - if they had been on Earth a long, long period of time, it was possible they could have adapted and changed - not a lot, but enough - that it would be risky to assume all things safe for Earthian humans would be safe for them.

Still, the food so far hadn't posed a problem...

Obi-Wan brought up his nightly activities, Qui-Gon setting down his cup of water as he glanced across the table at Obi-Wan.

"Toph," Qui-Gon repeated. She was the charming young girl they met in Doyleton, the one who reminded him a little of Tahl. Tahl was long dead but thinking about her still brought on old pain and old joy - he still remembered what it felt that day when he offered to live his life with her, the anticipation, and how it felt like the galaxy had grown when she agreed. "Is she alright? Did you learn anything from her?"

He didn't fault Obi-Wan on not being "productive". It would be easy to trot out the old Jedi sayings - he even believed them - but Qui-Gon knew deep inside that Obi-Wan would need to work through this on his own, not just as a Jedi, but as a man. At least he seemed to have recovered a little, some of that dry wit coming back. Qui-Gon hid his smile, his expression mild as he took another calm bite of breakfast.

"She was doing well when I saw her," Obi-Wan said with a small nod. "She was using that 'earthbending' technique of hers in order to locate a friend of hers. Apparently she's sensitive enough to where she can distinguish between the vibrations an individual gives off through the ground." At least, that was how the Jedi understood it. "She's very gifted. I don't think she was able to locate her friend, however. It's possible he's disappeared like so many others..."

He didn't know for sure what became of those people, but given the evidence Obi-Wan had seen so far, he had a few good guesses.

Spearing an Earthian "strawberry" onto his fork, Obi-Wan drifted into silence. A part of him wanted to go ahead and bring up what one of them would inevitably have to mention -- about what had happened in the basement, and what they would do now that they'd been granted access to another part of the Institute. But Sanzo's death was still fresh on his mind, a raw, painful reminder of the cost of venturing into that arena, of playing with fire.

He would have to find Goku at some point, preferably before carrying out anymore plans. As the one responsible for the death of the boy's friend, Obi-Wan knew it was his responsibility, and his alone.

That was indeed unfortunate. It reminded Qui-Gon of that young girl he encountered so many nights back. Claire, was it? She too had been looking for her friend, a young man he realized was probably that same clone Obi-Wan mentioned earlier. She hadn't found him either. It didn't bode well.

Obi-Wan fell into silence. It wasn't exactly comfortable, for Qui-Gon could feel the conflict in his friend and knew without asking what was on his mind. They had both had to kill as Jedi in self-defense. But that didn't mean it was - or should be - any less difficult to cope with the act of taking a life, and the circumstances in which Sanzo had died had been even more complicated than normal. Qui-Gon didn't speak up at first, sighing quietly to himself. He wanted to give Obi-Wan more time to himself, but it seemed to him like he was waiting for him to bring up the basement.

That wasn't the only thing Qui-Gon was thinking of, though.

"I couldn't find Goku," Qui-Gon said, glancing at Obi-Wan with a steady gaze. The young man had watched Obi-Wan kill his friend in front of his very eyes, so it was not surprising he might be avoiding the both of them if he blamed them instead of Martin Landel. "I can't account for Callisto or Goku. It's possible they might try to enter the basement again."

He certainly didn't trust Callisto - she had been more than willing to turn on them, if only seemingly for her own gratification, and if Martin Landel was indeed past the North Door, then she just might get her wish to meet him. As for Goku...they didn't know. Qui-Gon hadn't been with him long enough to form a well enough impression as to how he would handle grief and that terrible loss. They didn't know what he would do, if he would try to head north for his own reasons. But Qui-Gon doubted Callisto or Goku could be objective about their motives and detach their feelings from their goals.

So Qui-Gon hadn't seen Goku, either. It troubled Obi-Wan to think that maybe the boy was on his own. Hopefully he had friends he could go to, but even then, he knew from firsthand experience that coping with a friend's death was far from easy. Landel's was dangerous, was capable of pushing everyone to their limits. A loss like that could easily drive someone to desperation.

Hopefully Goku had more sense than that, but the fact was that Obi-Wan didn't know the boy well at all. It was impossible for him to predict how he was going to act under these circumstances. Regardless, however, the Jedi knew he couldn't leave him to his own devices without at least checking up on him.

"I'll continue looking for him today," he said at length.

As far as Callisto was concerned, Obi-Wan couldn't say he was too keen on the idea of working with her in the future. She gave the impression that she was someone who was far more concerned about her own interests than the well-being of her companions. It was a little unsettling that neither of them knew of her current whereabouts or plans, though.

"I wouldn't be surprised if the basement was their goal," Obi-Wan said after another moment. "Although I admit something about going somewhere Martin Landel actually wants us to go strikes me as a little dangerous." Which was a terrible understatement, but he knew Qui-Gon would know what he was getting at.

Qui-Gon finished his breakfast before pushing the tray to the side and giving Obi-Wan his full attention.

"More than a little dangerous, I'd imagine," Qui-Gon said. "But I believe we as Jedi must risk it."

He didn't want to speak specifically for Obi-Wan, but he knew this was his duty to investigate as much as it was his old Master's. If there were answers, they would have to seek it. If it was as dangerous as the Arena...selfishly speaking, Qui-Gon had to admit he wanted to be with Obi-Wan when they tried the North Door. There was no telling if there would be another trial. And while Qui-Gon knew he had to let go of his friend, he couldn't deny that this time he would come with, no matter what he said. They would face this together, as Jedi.

"While I don't think it's something that should be done carelessly after what occurred the last time we ventured down there," the younger Jedi said slowly, "I do agree that it is ultimately a risk you and I must take." Obi-Wan did want to stress the importance of prudence in this case, though. It was a fact that Martin Landel was expecting them to go down there; there was simply no way to know what they would find.

Except by investigating the area themselves, that is.

"When will we be going?" he asked after a moment. There was no point in asking if they would be working together or not -- under other circumstances, it was possible they would have split off into two groups, but since access the North Door was restricted to only a select few, that left them with even fewer options.

Despite their differences, and everything that had happened up until now, though, Obi-Wan knew there was no other person he'd rather work with.

"Let's try tonight," Qui-Gon said. He gazed into Obi-Wan's eyes, searching his face. "I'll meet you in the Main Hall outside the patient blocks."

He didn't need to tell him to be prepared. He didn't need to warn him about the dangers. It wouldn't be respecting Obi-Wan as the Jedi he was to treat him like a Padawan. Qui-Gon knew it would be dangerous, possibly more so than the Arena. But whatever happened, Qui-Gon would face it with his friend and confront this: they were a long, long way from help now, possibly in another galaxy, and as far as he knew, they were the only living Jedi in the area (the other lightsaber he'd seen had been covered in blood and it was possible the Jedi - or Sith - had been killed).

Tonight, then. Despite what had happened two days ago, Obi-Wan knew that tonight was as good as any. They both had sufficient weapons, someone trustworthy to work with, and were in good health. It was likely going to be dangerous, especially since it was apparent the whole thing was planned by Landel. But as long as they were cautious, exploring the North Door was for the best.

It was their duty, after all.

"All right," he replied. The Jedi met his former Master's gaze, unwavering and true. "I'll head there as soon as the doors unlock."

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Day 37: Breakfast

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