Log: Clarice & Doclady Dr. Bartlet

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After seeing Doug get shot...



Even though Doug and Marie-Ange were both sedated in the medlab, Clarice was still carefully opened the double doors, making as little noise as possible. It was just something about the place that made her feel like she could be quiet and it was okay.
"Doclady?" she called out, heading towards Dr. Bartlet's office, "You awake?"

"In here, Clarice," Madelyn replied from the medlab kitchenette. She was microwaving a TV dinner, knowing Lorna would probably kill her if she knew, but not wanting to leave the lab just yet. Amanda was in watching over Marie-Ange, and Doug was still
sleeping. "How are you holding up, kiddo? You sounded a bit... well, not okay in that reply of yours."

Clarice shrugged slightly lopsidedly, one shoulder sported a large canvas bag with giant needles sticking out of side, "Okay."

"Uh-huh." Madelyn wasn't fooled, but she didn't want to push too hard. "You want something to eat? Someone restocked our frozen dinner supply, and some of it actually resembles food."

"Nah," she shook her head, sitting down on the sofa indian style, she was entirely to still, "not hungry."

Okay, not hungry and sitting still. Not good signs. "Hey, Clarice, you know, if you need to talk..." Madelyn began, unsure of how to put this. She wasn't like Kurt, who seemed to exude comfort. Taking a seat next to Clarice on the sofa, dinner forgotten, she hazarded putting an arm around Clarice's shoulders. "Tough day, hey?"

"I had an apple a few minutes ago," Clarice elaborated, hoping Madelyn wouldn't think she wasn't eating, "Just not hungry now. I don't know why I'm 'having a wiggins' as Jamie would say."

"It's all right, I'm not about to pounce on you and start the force-feeding." Madelyn reassured her. "Just... It's okay, you know? To be having a wiggins. You saw one of
your classmates get shot, I think that would be enough to freak out anyone, even a seasoned veteran of Xavier's School of Disasters."

Snorting derisively, Clarice began to rummage through her bag, pulling out a foot or so of knitting and her stolen beaker, "I've been through what? A government attack, demons, Paul getting nuked by one of my friends, etc etc etc, I know most people here have killed someone or a skippy at some point or another. Hell, Sarah even enjoys it. I've worked disasters with RedX, I've seen blood and everything. So why's this different?"

"Because there are limits. Going through all that... It doesn't necessarily make you impervious to things, kiddo. Sometimes it just piles up, until only a small thing is
all it takes to knock the whole lot down again. Like the last book you put on a stack that upsets the balance." Madelyn watched Clarice pull out her knitting. "That's a lot of sweater for one little beaker," she observed.

"Oh, it's not for Beakie anymore," she placed the beaker on the floor, "It's just knitting now. It's easy once you get going. It's the start that's hard. Why isn't life like knitting?"

"Some would argue it is. At least when I attempt to knit, any way. Dropped stiches all over the place."

Clarice laughed, "That's why I only have a little done. I keep having to take them out and redo them! But you can't redo life."

"No. But you can rehsape it, try and make something out of the tangle..." Madelyn shook her head. "Can we pick a different metaphor? I'm terrible at this one."

Now Clarice's laugh turned into a grin, "But you were doing so well too! It's just...you'd think you'd get better with practice at all the crazieness here. And we don't, we cope less and less."

"It only seems that way because we haven't had time to recover from the last crisis." Madelyn nodded at the door to Illyana's room, which was visible from where they sat. "Powers or not, you aren't superhuman when it comes to this sort of thing, kiddo. Give yourself a chance. You're seeing Leonard, right?"

"Sometimes..." Clarice trailed off, it had been a lot less than sometimes until recently when it had been 'suggested' she start going again, but even then it hadn't been that often, "Other people need him more."

Madelyn closed her eyes and counted to ten. And then again. When she was sure she could speak without snapping, she said: "It's strange, how often I'm hearing that. 'Other people are more important than me.' What on earth makes you think that,
Clarice? That your problems are any less important? That you're less deserving of help? Leonard is here for anyone who needs him, the same as the doctors are, but we can't help you if you won't come to us. The same as we couldn't help Doug because he
didn't come to us." Okay, perhaps not as calm as she'd hoped, but she was really beginning to be frustrated with all this...

"Oh." Clarice said, quietly, not really considering things like that. "It's not that I don't deserve it...and I do see Dr. Samson sometimes. But I'm not anorexic or on
drugs or depressed or anything. And fencing and working down here helps, I mean, it puts things in perspective."

"You don't have to be broken to need help, Clarice. In fact, we prefer to get people before that stage. It's easier to help someone before they go completely to pieces." Madelyn slipped her arm around Clarice's shoulders again, hoping it would be
better received this time. "Like Jubilee and the not-sleeping. If she'd said something earlier, I could have helped her without actually having to sedate her for twenty four hours."

Clarice laid her head against Madelyn's shoulder, her knitting still sitting untended in her lap, "It's just...I am eating. I am sleeping. I do my homework. I just, I dunno. Is this it? Not Xavier's, but the craziness. Is that it?"

"No, it's not. It shouldn't be. There should be fun, and parties, and boyfriends and all the rest of it." Madelyn's voice was a little bitter. "We try so hard to give you kids a chance at a normal life, and it seems like every time we turn around, things just get worse. I'm sorry, kiddo. I wish I could stop it, I really do. But I don't have that power." Not any more.

"I know you try," she picked up the knitting and almost mindlessly began to weave the yarn with the needles, a sign she was feeling better, "Thanks. For y'know, listening. And whatever."

"Any time you need it, kiddo," Madelyn said, recognising Clarice needed some space to pull herself together. Besides, the microwave was beeping at her to take her dinner out of it, already. "Same goes for Leonard - you need to talk, go and see him, okay?"

"Okay," Clarice nodded, "And you can have Beakie back, he doesn't like sweaters. They itch."