Entering the greenhouse was almost like coming home, and Hanatarou had been looking forward to this shift for that reason. Everywhere else in the building was strange and confusing (and often dangerous) but in here was the familiar scent of soil and sun-warmed plants with the musty sort of enclosed-space smell overlaying it. His expression turned into something approaching a smile as he glanced around, moving ahead of his nurse for once.

She seemed encouraged by his enthusiasm, and stopped him long enough to offer him a tray of seedlings, with the suggestion that he go ahead and transplant them into an empty space in the herb bed. He bobbed his head in a vague sort of nod and settled down, almost cheerfully digging a small hole in the indicated spot and reaching inside to test how dry the soil was. Maybe if he didn't look around, he could pretend he was back at work in the 4th Division headquarters....

[free]

Scott wasn't really what one would call the sporty type, at least not currently. In the past, maybe. He could have called himself a hockey player at one point - in grade two (it totally counted). And he had been a jock in high school, hadn't he (he had at least played a lot of Track & Field for the NES, anyway)? Regardless of what his athletic status may or may not have been, sports weren't really what the Scott Pilgrim of nowadays was associated with. He was a fighter, not a lover sports guy. Still, he was surprisingly excited to be going out to the Rec Field. Maybe he wouldn't get any games on, but he could still work off those pesky bullet wounds, right?

He walked as fast as the crutch would let him despite the protests of his nurse and his injured limbs. His hand could grip just well enough to keep the crutch steady under his right arm (gravity did most of the work), and he was thus able to keep a good pace. "All right, not doing bad so far," Scott said to himself with a grin as he hobbled quickly across the field, heading for the goalposts on the far end. He had worked up a surprisingly steady stride by the time he got close to them. Crutch forward, then left leg swung out in front of it. Crutch, leg, crutch, leg, crutch, leg. Nothing to it! Sure, his shoulder was hurting like burning. Sure, his right leg was still giving him similar pain on a smaller scale despite not having weight put on it. Sure, his animal brain was constantly shouting, "WHY WON'T YOU STOP?!" Other than that, though, he was a-okay. He was determined to be. Otherwise, it was Game Over, wasn't it?

Soon he reached the goalposts and stopped, much to the relief of his limbs. He hadn't really gone to this spot for any specific reason. He had just wanted to prove to himself that he wasn't that hampered by his injuries. For now, he seemed to have made a good case for the affirmative on that point. He knew that he couldn't just stop at moving forward, though. He had to see how good he was going to be at fighting in this condition. How was his moveset going to be modified with a crutch added and an arm taken away? That was the million dollar ($1176470.59 CDN) question, wasn't it?

He tried something simple to start - a standing kick with his good leg. He quickly raised his left leg while leaning his armpit against the crutch, lightly touching the goalpost with the sole of his foot. Nothing bad so far. He did the same thing again, only harder. A small wave of pain shot from one leg to the other, causing him to wobble on his crutch a bit. Scott grit his teeth, not liking that result at all. This time he decided to try a small jump kick, just to spite that stupid injury. After backing up a good few inches, he pushed both feet off the ground. "Hiiiiya!" With the end of his crutch still on the ground, he gave himself a bit of extra momentum, letting it fling him toward the goalpost with his left leg outstretched.

One didn't have to be able to predict the future to know what that the result of that was going to be. Foot connected hard with goalpost. Rebound pushed him back against the crutch. Center of gravity over the crutch shifted too far back. Pain shot through both his legs and his injured arm again. This and the gravity shift caused him to let go of the crutch entirely. Body flew back over the crutch and crashed on the ground slightly behind it. Bum (among other things) ended up stinging and covered in grass stains.

"Owwwwww," Scott groaned to himself, fumbling for the crutch. It was in an awkward position, just beyond the reach of his good arm. ". . . Well, could've gone worse, I guess," he told himself as he used his left foot to start pushing the crutch back toward his hand.

[For Keman at first, then Peter and Indy later.]

It had all been going so well!

Seeing Cloud and Aerith(!) again had brought a now unfamiliar lightness to her shoulders. Work would be harder from here on out, but she wasn't on her own anymore. She was getting a second chance she'd never thought was possible. And then, then they'd trekked outside, totally ready to face the fog and the unknown (privately, the ninja had been a little worried; it couldn't happen again, it just couldn't, but what if it did?)—only to wake up. In their beds. As usual. Gaaaaaawd—!

"I just want you to know," Yuffie informed her nurse, grabbing her journal from the desk on her way out, "that your hair looks spectacularly god-awful today. What did you do, stick your tongue in a socket? I'm not exactly hip on fashion, too busy badass for that fluffy stuff, but—"

Plucky looked ready to plant her face in her hands. Or to plant her hands somewhere else. To her credit, and much to Yuffie's eternal disappointment, she did—tried to do—neither. "One of those days, is it?" the nurse sighed, disapproval incarnate. "Well. You're just going to have to behave; the new batches of patients are due today. We don't want to make a bad impression."

"I am feeling so completely convinced of my wrongdoing," Yuffie confided. They stepped into the cafeteria, practically empty as of yet. The chocolate cake last night had worked a treat, whetting her appetite. Honestly, she was getting sick of pecking at scraps like a runt Chocobo in the snow plains—but not literally, of course. Ew. She got more than enough of that on those damn buses once a week. Now that AVALANCHE really was dropping onto her lap—and remind her to get the hell out of dodge if Barret ever took his turn—she couldn't afford not to keep her strength up. For one, she'd be a liability. For two, she'd get her spine chewed out.

"Fruit," said Plucky, hovering as her charge picked out her choices for the day. Rolling her eyes, Yuffie grabbed an apple, slinging it onto the tray alongside an 'English' sandwich. "That'll do. I'll leave you to your breakfast, now." Somehow, that sounded about as comforting as 'My name is Don Corneo and I am raiding through your panty draw', and Yuffie was stopping that thought right there. Oh, god. Eurk. Bad, bad, bad! Bad, brain. Bad. That—yeah, no. Just, no. 'Sides, the guy was as dead as a doornail, splatted across Da Chao's feet. Dirtying them, really, but somehow Yuffie couldn't bring herself to be sorry about that.

(And it wasn't like the creep'd ever end up here, right? Right!)

She took to a seat, dropping her tray and her journal both onto the table. The book fell pages-down; Yuffie flipped it over, thumbing through to the middle as she worked through her apple. An almost finished map of Gaia stared back at her, neat as she could ever manage. Dots for major locations, squiggles for mountains. Stars for the materia caves, Chocobos for the tracks. All labelled in Wutaian. It was just a little piece of the home she absolutely had to get back to, 'cuz Leviathan knew what kind of trouble they'd be up to their necks in without her.

[For Donna]

[from here]

Tim stepped into the hallway, closet rod in hand. There wasn't much of anything going on out here, like that wasn't creepy as hell. He decided to ignore how creepy it felt and just press on.

Nothing to see here, folks.

[to here]

[from here]

This was the part where S.T. hesitated. The meeting hadn't gotten anywhere near actual planning. It hadn't devolved into logo-design and acronym debates, but it'd been close. Not that a group of Holmes wannabes made ideal bodyguard fodder, but this place had dropped his standards. Any backup he could get was good backup. Ability to hold a test tube right-end-up was just a bonus.

If he got the chance, he'd never bitch at Tess or Debbie or any of the girls for cruising a parking garage. Park by the damn elevator, under the security lights, screw the gas mileage.

[from here]

Hallway? Check. Toolbox? Check. Flashlight turning him into a walking target? Check.

Destination? Shit, he knew he'd forgotten something.

The thought of going back, finding his beer, and seeing if there was enough left for a mild buzz was tempting. Really fucking tempting. Pull the covers up over his head and let the world spin without him. But he'd done that last night and he hadn't woken up with his face pressed to a shag rug. Trying to climb inside a hefty bag because someone had turned down the thermostat and attached as much of a diatribe as would fit on a post-it about foreign oil.

[to here]

[from here]

So far, so good; Junpei wasn't feeling any compulsion to go someplace he wasn't intending to. It was a relief to know that Evangeline wasn't going to vampire him to her side that night, despite the implications from earlier. Then again... what if where he was heading was where she wanted him to go all along, so it just didn't feel like a vampire compulsion?

Oh man, this whole vampire servant thing sucked. Junpei wasn't even sure if he'd be able to tell when Evangeline decided to call him to hold her hair while she prayed to the porcelain god or something worse - carrying her damn books.

[to here]

[from here]

Continuing down the hallway toward the outside, Momo decided she would scale the wall and head to the ruined town. It had been several days since she'd been there and she was curious as to what might be found in the other buildings. Her mind was much clearer now than the last time. Perhaps, she could see it in a new light.

Momo knew traveling alone was not the best idea, but she was armed, in her uniform so she blended in well with her surroundings, and she'd be outside where her flashlight would not be needed. She was already on her second set of batteries and needed to preserve what she could. She was fairly sure she'd be alright against any of the Institute's monsters.

[from here]

Once out of the female block, Momo hesitated, unsure what she wanted to do. She'd left her room without a thought, her body automatically following the same motions she did every night once she'd secured Laevatein back in its hiding place in her room. She was feeling more comfortable with the broadsword, but there was only so much she could do with it while it was in its current state and she had no one to formally teach her. Celes' tips were certainly appreciated, but Momo was unwilling to ask the general for lessons, feeling as if she'd be imposing. She would just have to adapt her own style.

After a moment of thought, the shinigami headed to the left. She'd only had two options, really. She could have headed to the right and helped with the M-U rescue, but pacing that hallway while waiting for someone to be released from their torture was not something she wanted to do. Instead, she started toward the outside of the Institute.

[to here]

"Hzhwzut?!" Scott jerked awake, unconsciously kicking the blanket off his bed as the intercom crackled out and the door clicked open. He lay there for a moment, staring at the ceiling with groggy, half-open eyes. 

How long had he slept? Scott tried to remember. He vaguely recalled being woken on the couch in the Sun Room and told to stop snoring. When he thought hard enough, he could hear a nurse in his mind, telling him to come along for dinner. Even the prospect of food hadn't been enough to keep him from falling right back asleep, apparently. Why had he been so tired all of a sudden? It almost felt as though Christmas had come and sucker punched him in the face. Usually only copious amounts of turkey could make him so tired. Well, during the day, anyway. 

Funnily enough, he could smell cold turkey somewhere nearby. Scott narrowed his eyes. "I'm on to your game, Landel." 

Scott sat up quickly and immediately regretted it. "Owowow sleep headache..." He stumbled out of his bed toward the closet. It was night, wasn't it? He was going to need his ass-kicking implements. After changing into his real clothes (and after realizing his shirt was inside out and fixing that), Scott grabbed his pipe, flashlight, and the various little tools he had taken to putting in his jacket pockets. With that all ready, Scott rubbed his eyes, yawned, and headed out for the night.   

[To here]

[from here]

Beatrix had walked this path to the Sun Room so many times, she could do it in complete darkness. Which was exactly what she was doing. Knowing the way, there was little need for light as it would only draw creatures and other unwanted attention. Silently counting her steps, at the right number, the assassin headed left and down the hallway.

[to here]

Kaworu immediately gravitated towards the keyboard. It was not a piano, not truly, but it was attractive in all of the same ways. Music freed the mind from conscious thought, and Kaworu was feeling exceptionally weighed down by exactly that. There was a heaviness, as well as a lightness. He did not know where to begin approaching the situation with Shinji. It was a simple task to forget such things when the problem itself was caused by such an enamoring distraction.

Shinji needed to survive, he was supposed to continue, and yet he was here. This place would take his life without needing a reason. A soul so important could simply be put out, and the world would continue as it always had. It seemed wrong, but was it because it was not the way things should be, or simply because Kaworu wished it were so?

And yet, Kaworu could not say he was unhappy. He had done nothing to earn himself more time with Shinji. He had made his decision, and created for himself a fate apart from the Lilim. But as much as many Lilim wished the world to work in those terms, it rarely did. Events would move into place regardless of their actions. It was rare that something happened because an individual deserved it. It was only chance. Kaworu knew that he should not have been glad, but being with Shinji was indescribable.

His long, bony fingers moved across the keys easily, constructing Ode to Joy with each progressive note.

[Reserved for Albedo.]

The mere fact that she'd been susceptible to whatever hold the Institute had had on her yesterday was sufficient to leave Ayumu both upset and angry - no, not angry, downright furious, both at herself and whoever was responsible for that. But there was also the fact that because of it, she'd lost out on an entire day of work, and in several ways had ruined some of what she'd done already. That little conversation with Himura the day before, for instance, was something she'd sincerely prefer not to remember if she'd had any choice in the matter.

Unless the man was a complete moron, which, unfortunately, was one thing she couldn't believe of him, he had to have realized just who her brother was. After all the effort to keep that fact quiet (not exactly a secret, but certainly not advertised; half the Shinsengumi probably never even realized it because there was no reason to) she'd gone and chatted about it with him. Told him all about it, practically painted a bright target around a weakness that shouldn't have existed in the first place.

She'd spent the shift in the Sun Room pretending to sleep, while in truth forcing herself into calm. After years of practice she could shunt away the useless and distracting emotions, focusing only on what was important and needed to be at the forefront of her mind, and by the time the intercom signaled the lunch period she was feeling considerably calmer. The time to silently observe others had, as well, alerted her to something she probably should have noticed earlier: Mello was back. Would her previous objective be reinstated now? He seemed to have far less of a bulletin presence this time, so perhaps not. Still, though, it bore investigating.

None of her thoughts were visible, of course, as she moved through the line, examining the lunch selection somewhat dubiously. Now with the benefit of Yuuko's memories she might recognize the food, but she certainly didn't share the enthusiasm for it that her imaginary self apparently had. Ayumu skipped past that part and settled for the salad bar and some bread, then positioned herself in a place where she could watch both the door and the rest of the room, setting her journal open in front of herself as though planning to write something. There was far too much that she'd missed, too much work to do now.

[for Okita]

Peter woke up suddenly, his body twisting in the bed and then forcing him to catch his breath in pain. Pain, which was coming from his middle because of the thing that had scratched him last night, and after that...

After that, Zach had jumped in front of him like some kind of martyr, like the exact opposite of everything Sylar stood for, to take the next hit for him. It got pretty fuzzy after that, so night must have ended right around then.

The man let out a pained grunt as he straightened himself up in bed. For some reason, he got the feeling that he'd slept in. There was no way for him to really tell without a window in the room, but he just knew. The fact that Sam's bed looked long since vacated was another clue.

Sam, but was he Sam again? Had the brainwashing worn off, as he and Roland had hoped, or was he going to have to go through this nightmare for even longer? He didn't know how long he could handle "Zach" and "Harrison" before he started going batty himself.

Pulling himself out of bed, Peter lifted his shirt and saw that he was tightly bandaged. The scratch most likely wasn't nearly as bad as the bite that "Zach" had received, but it still smarted. He let his shirt fall and then had to deal with a nurse chiding him for sleeping through the morning announcements. Not that Peter really cared at the moment. He was too busy thinking about last night and the fact that in a way, he now owed something to Sylar. Except it hadn't been Sylar. That was something he was sure of now.

Lost in his thoughts, Peter reached the Sun Room right as the rest of the patient populace was trickling in from breakfast. Sighing to himself, he headed over to the bulletin board and then saw a note written in familiar yet unpleasant handwriting. Holding his pen in a vice grip, Peter scribbled out a reply and then stalked over to an armchair and fell into it with a huff.

While Sylar was maddeningly frustrating, there was one good thing about the fact that he was himself again. It meant that Nathan was too.

[For Spock!]

For the second time, Rika found herself waking with a start. She blinked at the grey light streaming through the windows, and looked across the room. Anise was still asleep. So. I'm still here. Let me just check...

Rika put on her slippers and walked over to the desk, checking the drawer and breathing a light sigh of relief. Good, the knife was still there. She wasn't sure why it would be there - shouldn't they have confiscated the weapon? Either way, though, as much as she was reluctant to use it, she was glad to have it still there.

Just then, she heard the creak of the open door, and quickly closed the drawer. Her nurse peeked in, whispering, "Rachel? Time for breakfast. You should put on a sweatshirt, it's a bit chilly." Rika nodded, quickly adding the extra layer and following the nurse out into the hall and to the cafeteria.

She was used to a Japanese-style breakfast, so the idea of something sweet - which the nurse was avidly describing, with the waffles and fruit and syrup - was a bit odd. Once she walked in, though, she had to admit it smelled good. She filled her plate with waffles topped with blueberries, some sausage, and eggs, took a glass of orange juice, and took a seat. It seemed she was early, so she took a seat close to one of the windows and waited.

[For Ange.]

[inertia is a property of matter!]

Naturally, Dist couldn't do his exploring alone. It could be dangerous! Jade, after all, had his artes, and even if they weren't as powerful as they should have been, they were more than Dist himself had.

When he got to the end of Jade's hall, he walked right up the door and knocked loudly. "Jade!" He stood there for a moment before remembering that the doors unlocked themselves after dark. That made things much easier; he simply pushed the door open himself. "Jade?"

[lord I hope I did this right]

[From here.]

He turned his mind to the issue of Captain Kirk. Upon further reflection, it was painfully obviously that he'd been brainwashed or at least had fallen to Stockholm syndrome. What would cause that so quickly though, was a mystery to Chekov. It had to be something akin to brainwashing--short term brainwashing at least. Or possession by some higher entity that the Captain was now doing battle with in his mind. But these were just ideas.

The better question, he thought, was what would he and Commander Spock do once they'd tracked down Bill? Commander Spock must have had some kind of plan, otherwise he wouldn't have suggested putting this particular mission into action. From what Chekov could tell of his conversation with Bill, there wasn't much of Captain Kirk left--even if his mannerisms were similar. At least, they were similar to when Captain Kirk had taken command of the Enterprise and gave the ultimatum: either Nero was going down, or they were.

The intercom's jingle signaled yet another announcement.

"And our excellent behavior continues! Well, I am extremely impressed indeed!

"In any case, it's time to stop our socializing, unfortunately, and for the patients to return to their quarters for dinner. Be aware that new roommates have been assigned due to our influx of new patients and discharged old ones, so please be hospitable should you find yourself with someone new!

"As for dinner itself: tonight, we'll be serving shrimp and vegetable tempura along with delicious chicken teriyaki. Yum, yum, yum! As sides, we will also be serving boiled, salted soybeans, rice, and of course the appropriate soy and tempura sauces. Our regular assorted drinks and vegetarian substitutes are also available.

"I hope you enjoy your meal!"

The intercom clicked off.

[ All room threads go in response to this post; please post your character's room number as the subject line of the initial post. Find new room assignments here. ]

Today was really trying to rain on her parade, wasn't it?

Well, it wasn't gonna work! Hanna was determined to stay strong and cheerful, in spite of Kenshin throwing a mega bitchfit and that the chick from the library being… Yeah. Her flightiness had been bad enough, but the half glossed-over memories had bordered on terrifying. Had she really been that far gone? It had to have been the meds. Just the meds. Yuffie was a douchey, semi-sociopathic klepto ninja thing, but even in that imagined world of hers, she hadn't gone around slashing people to ribbons for fun. Had she? Ugh, Hanna didn't even know anymore. Crazy people were capable of crazy stuff

Hanna's gut clenched just thinking about it, and she turned determinedly back to her lunch. The food wasn't exactly great, but it was better than some of the stuff she'd eaten. Like Stan's Deep fried Twinkie and mashed banana hot pot. Or, y'know, the normal stuff that teenage semi-runaways ate. Craptastic sandwiches and super economy potato chips, when she could get them, and whatever was in Tiffany's fridge when she couldn't. Dignity was dignity, and dignity was important, but being able to scratch a living from a rock was a handy life skill to have.

Stuffing another few chips in her mouth, Hanna did her best to ignore the door—and, by proxy, anybody who happened to come through it. Nostalgia trip aside, hadn't the Head Nurse said something about a whole new batch of crazycakes? Now she'd feel even more like a sardine than ever. Great.

[ For Cloud? :D ]

Mori woke with a start. He lay on the bed for a moment, staring up at the ceiling and sighed quietly. Another day, another round of shifts and people and-- Wait a minute. Breathing in carefully, Mori's brow knit together as he realized that his ribs were no longer broken. After testing his collarbone, he found that it, too, was healing faster than it should have. Not that he was complaining, but there was something odd about broken bones setting so quickly. Pushing himself up out of bed, the teen shook his head, knowing that he'd have another day or two of the sling and then he'd be free from it.

But more important than that was finding out how Mitsukuni was doing. The last thing he remembered was the bathroom and gathering metal. Since they were together at the end of the night, Mori was certain that Mitsukuni would be fine, but...well, he still liked to confirm such things with his own eyes. With the twins gone and Tamaki still missing, Mori didn't want to take any chances anymore. Especially not with the strange announcements this morning.

As usual, his nurse came to collect him and helped him into his sling. Then he followed her quietly into the cafeteria, taking notice of the unusually empty bulletin board. They really were cracking down on it already. Weird. Even weirder? For once, he was the first into the room. Picking up a tray, he pointed out what he wanted, making sure to take double of the pancakes (asking to keep them away from the sausages for now), double of the strawberry jam and biscuits, and an extra helping of fruit. To top it off? Milk. It'd help his bones mend. Hopefully.

Going to a nearby seat, Mori took a look around the empty room and shivered. Kind of eerie in here without anyone else but the nurses. Someone was certain to come sooner or later though, right? He hoped so at least.

[for Chihaya]