Day 39: Sun Room [Fourth Shift]

[winged_moon]

Yue was all too pleased to leave the cafeteria by the time lunch was over, even if he still wasn't satisfied that Fai was properly taking care of himself. It was clear that Touya hadn't accepted the answers he'd been given and intended to find out just what the guardian wasn't telling him, and being watched so closely was beginning to get uncomfortable.

It was clear that the truth would have to come out at some point, especially if they were going to be spending any amount of time together. Avoiding him was entirely out of the question, but at the same time Yue stubbornly refused to consider the idea of just outright telling him about what had happened in the last week. It was a dilemma indeed, and only served to make him even more irritable than ever.

How could he admit any of it? That he was weak and crippled, betrayed and altered by his creator? That he'd almost broken the promise he'd given in exchange for Touya's power? The latter he couldn't help but be reminded of every time he saw this Touya, who had only just gone through it, and would remember it even more clearly.

Fortunately Yukito was staying silent for the moment, although he could feel his other self's disappointment at being unable to speak to Touya so far, and it didn't make him feel any better.

In the midst of all this Yue was rather dismayed to realize that the nurse wanted to lead him to the music room, of all places: that was the room where he'd met the Sakura-who-wasn't-his-Sakura the week before, and needed neither the reminder nor the inevitable noise in that room. He abruptly halted in his tracks and refused to continue on. The nurse seemed initially disappointed, but finally agreed to let him stay in the Sun Room instead; the guardian found a corner in which to stand, arms folded across his chest and lost in his own brooding thoughts.

[for Sokka]

Comments

[tightsofmight]

"Hey, it was the eighties! That's how things were done back then. Besides, even if the titles were a little...you know...the movies were pretty damn awesome." Now Peter was getting a little ticked. How could anyone dare criticize one of the greatest movie trilogies of all time? (Particularly when they were playing make believe as the title character - talk about backhanded compliments).

"And yeah, the second one is the one in Pankot. Although it shames me deeply to admit that I know that, seeing as how most people only remember it as the one with the volcano and the monkey brains."

This was a whole new level of dedication. He even had the 'I'm trying so hard not to beat the snot out of you right now' face down to a tee. But in all seriousness, what was the point? Was this guy actually insane? (And did that make this a real mental - no no, that couldn't be it...)

'Indy' was still going for the gold here. Peter had to roll his eyes. "You aren't the real Indiana Jones, because there is no real Indiana Jones. They made him up - Steven Spielburg and George Lucas. For crying out loud, there's even a ride in Disneyland! If that doesn't make it fictional, I don't know what does." He made a sour face. Why did everyone he meet automatically call him 'kid'? He wasn't some stupid little boy, for cripes sake. "And my name is Peter."

[its-the-mileage.livejournal.com]

"The eighties? As in, the 1980s?" Not all that recently, in other words. Indy wondered why no one else had brought the movie up or expressed skepticism about his name, if the whole damn planet had seen the thing. He couldn't say about the others, but Pierson for one was probably just holding out on him. Or maybe he just wasn't a movie buff.

"Evidently kids these days aren't big on doing research," Indy retorted. "If you actually knew how to use a library, I'm sure you could find any number of contemporary references to my life and work." What references, he had no idea, but surely Marcus had dedicated a book to him or something. Or maybe one of his old flames had written some kind of tell-all memoir in which he would feature prominently. "They probably still have my dissertation on file at the Sorbonne," he spluttered, mentally kicking himself for the weak line. He didn't exactly sound convincing, even to himself.

But the kid had kept going, and something else caught Indy's ear. "Wait a minute; did you say George Lucas?" That might be it. Harry Lucas--Harrison Ford plus George Lucas. It was a prank. Whoever had brought him here must have been chuckling to himself as he'd filled out the name in Indy's file. Had they not thought he'd figure it out, or were they just uninterested in whether he did or not?

He had no idea what "Disneyland" was--and a ride? Based on his life? What were they doing, racing people through abandoned mines? Why would anyone want to do that?--but that was another question best saved for some other time.

[tightsofmight]

"No, the 1880s," Peter snapped, "Of course it was the 1980s! Where have you been, living under a rock? Oh wait, let me guess - you were too busy falling for a blonde Nazi chick and looking for the Holy Grail. Must have been some adventure, if it kept you out of the loop for the past seventy years. And aren't you just looking fabulous for a guy who would be at least a hundred years old by now."

His next excuse raised Peter's ire even further. So what, now he was an idiot? Oh, what he wouldn't give to shoot some webbing in this clown's face. It looked like that was the only way he would get him to shut up at this point. "I've been to the library more times than the average adult, let alone any 'kids', and I can tell you with absolute certainty that the only place your name shows up in is in the Film History section. Believe me, I've checked."

Odd, though, that he would suddenly 'recognize' the name George Lucas. This was getting stranger with every passing moment. "Yeah, I did. What, are you finally breaking character now?"

From the corner of his eye, he caught sight of Harry chatting with a pretty, curly haired woman, and wondered idly if he should just give up and join them. As much as he loved arguing with a brick wall, he couldn't help but think that the afternoon would be better spent with someone who wasn't forty feet off their rocker.

[its-the-mileage.livejournal.com]

"109, actually. And just checking," Indy shot back. "When you've been here a little longer, you'll understand why I'm cautious about making assumptions about time here." Just great, so they'd thrown in the Grail story too. What hadn't been in the damn movie? It must be two weeks long.

Indy didn't have a good comeback to the kid's--Indy refused to think of him as 'Peter' until he stopped being such a rat--statement about having checked in the library, short of suggesting that he dig up a University of Chicago yearbook. He probably just hadn't looked anywhere near as hard as he thought he had; Indy knew the type. His 101 courses were filled as often as not with young guys like this one who thought they were the brightest stars ever to appear on the academic horizon, and as often as not they got a nasty shock back with their midterm grades. Assuming he ever got around to grading the midterms, that was. Some semesters that was up in the air.

In any case, Indy didn't buy the idea that the movie was the only record of his life, so he moved right along to the next point. "The nurses have been calling me 'Harry Lucas,'" he explained testily. "From what I've heard, they've given most of the patients fake names; I'm just trying to figure out if there's any logic to mine. Someone around here must think he's a real comedic genius."

He spread his hands, feeling a little helpless. When you came right down to it, he didn't have any real way of proving to this wiseass kid that he wasn't delusional; nobody here did. "Look, I don't know what I'm supposed to do to convince you of who I am, if you're even interested in being convinced. But if my being here is the strangest thing you've run across so far, your life is only gonna get stranger from here."