Castiel (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
freewill) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
damned_institute2011-08-21 01:09 pm
freewill) wrote in damned_institute2011-08-21 01:09 pm
Day 58: Men's Showers (Second Shift)
By the time that breakfast had ended, Michael didn't really know what to think.
The good part of him -- the part that went to church every Sunday and prayed that he could find justice for his clients -- wanted to feel for those two boys. They were going through Hell (and not the literal kind that they were thinking of) and he really did hold out hope that they would get their acts together. But the rest of him wanted to forget all about them and focus on himself. They weren't his responsibility anymore, now that the case had been dropped. The very idea of a killer had been a fantasy, after all. It wasn't his job to worry about them.
He certainly wasn't some guardian angel, either. He had never signed up for that and he had no idea why his mind had decided that was the case. Figuring that out was probably his key to getting healthy again, but it seemed like an uphill journey at this point.
Either way, it was good to get away from Matt and Eric. He needed some breathing room, some time to just let his mind clear out all of that crazy angel and demon stuff. Being religious was one thing; this was another, and he knew it wasn't right. He tried not to think about what his parents probably thought of him, but for all he knew they weren't even aware that he was here. In fact, Michael couldn't even remember who had admitted him. It was possible he'd just brought himself here.
A shower sounded like a real blessing, though, and he didn't hesitate to strip out of the uniform and find shelter under the hot spray of one of the shower heads. It was definitely more than just washing off; it felt like a cleansing experience, like he was scrubbing the very idea of Castiel out of his skin. He knew it wasn't that easy, that he could relapse at any point, and yet he tried anyway.
However, once he'd washed his body and shampooed his hair, he realized that he needed to give up the shower space for someone else who might need it. As much as he would have liked to spend the entire shift there, he did the right thing and went back to get dressed once he was finished, heading out into the Sun Room on a soldier's heels.
[To here.]
The good part of him -- the part that went to church every Sunday and prayed that he could find justice for his clients -- wanted to feel for those two boys. They were going through Hell (and not the literal kind that they were thinking of) and he really did hold out hope that they would get their acts together. But the rest of him wanted to forget all about them and focus on himself. They weren't his responsibility anymore, now that the case had been dropped. The very idea of a killer had been a fantasy, after all. It wasn't his job to worry about them.
He certainly wasn't some guardian angel, either. He had never signed up for that and he had no idea why his mind had decided that was the case. Figuring that out was probably his key to getting healthy again, but it seemed like an uphill journey at this point.
Either way, it was good to get away from Matt and Eric. He needed some breathing room, some time to just let his mind clear out all of that crazy angel and demon stuff. Being religious was one thing; this was another, and he knew it wasn't right. He tried not to think about what his parents probably thought of him, but for all he knew they weren't even aware that he was here. In fact, Michael couldn't even remember who had admitted him. It was possible he'd just brought himself here.
A shower sounded like a real blessing, though, and he didn't hesitate to strip out of the uniform and find shelter under the hot spray of one of the shower heads. It was definitely more than just washing off; it felt like a cleansing experience, like he was scrubbing the very idea of Castiel out of his skin. He knew it wasn't that easy, that he could relapse at any point, and yet he tried anyway.
However, once he'd washed his body and shampooed his hair, he realized that he needed to give up the shower space for someone else who might need it. As much as he would have liked to spend the entire shift there, he did the right thing and went back to get dressed once he was finished, heading out into the Sun Room on a soldier's heels.
[To here.]
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He undressed, leaving his clothes folded in a pile, and headed into the shower area itself. He stopped under an empty showerhead, and it was in reaching out to turn it on that he realized belatedly that he'd ended up with someone else to his left.
Firo wondered for a moment whether he should say something, or whether he should move—but the water was already running, and he just wanted to finish washing himself quickly. He settled on saying something, to break what felt like an awkward silence, "Hello."
With the one word, he gave a side glance at the other man—he was blond, and a little taller than him—but in that glance, his attention had also been caught. He'd thought the man had just been in the middle of scratching his head, but there were the white edges of what looked like (now that he was paying attention) a bandage peeking out around his fingers...
It was then that Firo realized he'd started to stare.
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It may have been thanks to that distraction that he noticed someone take up the shower next to his. Normally, he'd have just blocked everything to the point of honestly not even caring to notice. Not that it changed anything in the long run. He had no initial intention of acknowledging their presence at all. At least, not until they spoke up first.
He glanced over at the other, only moving his eyes at first as he assessed the other for a second. The guy was young-looking. A kid, probably. Someone who only just qualified for adult showers through technicality. Not really anyone worth being wary of. If anything, he had reason to feel wary. Maybe that was why he'd decided to say something. Or maybe it was some high school gym showers courtesy where he was from. There was a sort of awkward attempt at amiability in it. Nothing rude. Probably just something he did without realizing this wasn't exactly the most comfortable setting for a conversation, even if just small talk.
However, as he looked at him, he noticed the kid was just... staring at him. Again, not in a particularly rude way. But for a heartbeat, he stared back, wondering what he was so enamored with. Certainly, Klavier was used to being stared at, but it was usually by women. Or slack-jawed defense attorneys who lacked any sense of an inside voice.
So he tried getting him to stop staring in the same way he usually did: Klavier turned his face to him entirely and spread a bright smile. "Haha. Hello~ Is something the matter~?"
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Firo had been caught off-guard (something which seemed to be happening far too often lately) by being addressed in return, and he stayed quiet for a long moment afterwards, until he reached out to get some soap with a heavy sigh. He needed to get a better hold on himself; this was no way for a Martillo capo to act.
His eyes slid back to the blond man; he owed the man an explanation since he'd been staring—and anyway, he'd also been asked, after a fashion.
"I was just wondering what had happened." He gestured to his own head with one soapy hand, before starting to work the soap into his hair. "Did you hit your head, or...?"
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It seemed the boy was going to go for the former option, and Klavier only smiled as though oblivious as to what the matter could possibly be before taking some shampoo for himself. And that, as they say, was that. He was ready to forget it and move along. Then... the kid turned to him again and started speaking again as though to try justifying himself. He glanced back to him, blinking in a momentary surprise. And once Klavier realized what it was he was asking about, he froze in hesitation.
... Somehow, even though he had been aiming for the opposite, it was now Klavier who was feeling embarrassed. Though it had little to do with any sort of "shyness," per say. Klavier couldn't really qualify himself as shy in any sense of the word. But that didn't mean this wasn't exactly a vulnerable state to be holding a conversation. Especially when the subject was something that so prominently featured something he was self-conscious and uncomfortable about on its own.
But he was determined to keep his perfect composure and not act like it was as disconcerting as he felt it was. In order to accomplish that, he might have to be a little bold here. So he spoke, maintaining a small smile and trying to keep his tone as it was before.
"Ah. You mean this?" He carefully pulled his fingers away from the spot, carefully gauging the boy's reaction. ... He really hoped it didn't look that horrible, ohgodpleasesayit'snotthatbad ... "Ha. It would be nice if it were that simple. ...Might I ask, have you been here a while already?"
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When the other man said he wished it had been something as simple as hitting his head, Firo's first thought was: he must have gotten hurt in a fight. It took another moment before he realized the brawl between fellow prisoners or between the prisoners and the guards that he'd imagined was probably a lot less likely in this place than a fight between a prisoner and some monster or another—and anyway, he'd said it was 'complicated'. A fight was pretty straightforward, no matter who it was against, so maybe it had been something more complex. What that might have been, Firo didn't even have a guess.
"Oh, me? I haven't been here that long, actually; just a few days so far." He turned back towards the showerhead, reaching out one hand to get some more soap while he continued working his hair with the other. "And nothing's been what I'd expected of this week."
If he'd made it to Alcatraz... Would he have found Huey by now? Would he be working diligently on the job Victor had sent him to do? He wondered what was going on in New York now—back in 1934.
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Well... regardless of the reason, he had to admit he was at least a little less self-conscious about it after that (though he still found it difficult to stop thinking about it being there). At least enough that maybe he'd... just try carefully washing his hair around it without worrying about hiding it the whole time. ...Maybe there was a secret hint of appreciation in his smile for it.
He turned his attention away from the kid and back to getting some shampoo into his hair as he listened to the rest of his response. Hmm. So he was relatively new. Not enough to be a complete stranger to this place but new enough. "I see. Then there is a chance you may not have heard of it."
Ahh. How to explain it? It wasn't exactly the nicest thing to talk about. "They refer to it as... 'Sleep Studies,' I believe it is? It's the term used by the staff here for when they decide to... take a few people for the night. For some kind of experimentation, it seems." He kept his face and tone as neutral as possible, trying very hard not to think about the details. Just focusing on moving soapy fingers through his hair. "...I was thrown in a room with someone who would rather I have my skull opened."
Not exactly the most gentle or sensitive explanation, were he to be frank. Klavier didn't like it. It was fine to be blunt for something serious, but there were more graceful ways to speak of such a vulgar subject. He looked back at the kid only briefly enough to give him a smirk, a display to show he was fine despite the details. "I guess you could say nothing has been what people have expected when it comes to this place."
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"I've heard of that," he said. "Not by that name and not the details of the experiments, but... I know a little, at least." If it weren't such a serious topic, Firo might have laughed; it was one of the first times since he'd gotten here that actually had some idea of what was going on.
Instead, he leaned forward to douse his soapy hair with the shower's spray. Once he pulled back again, he pushed wet hair away from his eyes and added in explanation, "Last night I went with someone to try to help the people who'd been taken in for the experiments." What they'd found had been a young man covered in blood and barely able to stand; this man's injury looked much better, but that was probably only because it had already had some time to heal.
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At that claim regarding the night before, however, Klavier turned to him in absolute surprise. ...It wasn't something he advertised much, but his opinion of the people here in general was incredibly low. From what he had seen both in person and on the bulletin board, most here were selfish and deplorable. Some even savage. Even with as many people he spoke to and shared information with, the amount of people he legitimately trusted could be counted on one hand.
So to hear that this newcomer had teamed up with someone else and that both had gone to help the people taken for experiments... It was astounding. And wonderful. It almost restored a little faith in what passed for humanity in this building. Almost. At the very least, it showed what kind of person this boy was.
"Did you manage to help any of them?" he asked, the friendly tone suddenly gone. He had no idea who had been taken nor how many. Nor did it matter. All that mattered was that they had gotten out of it alright. Klavier was sure that at least some of the disappearances that occurred in this place... were probably experiments that didn't end so well.
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"We only found one," he answered. "Peter didn't really have time to treat him; the kid wanted to get somewhere safer right away, and it was morning before we knew it."
He sighed, taking a bit more soap to wash his body now that his hair was clean. "He left a note on the board this morning, though. It seems he can at least walk today, which is more than I can say for his state last night."
At the very least, maybe just being there had helped. There hadn't been much Firo could do for him other than provide protection, but if Peter had had just a little more time, to have finished examining him and seeing to whatever had left all that blood....
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But he could imagine what kind of state that person had been in. And what kind of sight that must have been to come upon. It was enough to make one's blood boil when they thought about it. Monsters. All of them. To butcher and hurt people for their own benefit like this. Like they were all tools. And they believed they would never be caught and punished for it. No, he would see to it every last one of them was brought to justice. If it was the last thing he did. He swore to it. Right now, though, he should be looking at what little positive there was to look at. And that was the fortunate rescue of at least one.
Taking in the kid's small sigh, Klavier pulled his eyes away from the other and smiled. Rather than it being there for courtesy's sake, it was actually genuine. "...He may not have been able to even do that much today had it not been for you and your companion. It probably doesn't feel like you did enough, but trust me. You did plenty."
This place needed more people like this kid. People who were willing to do the right thing and help others. Without expecting something in return at that. Such a novel concept here. If no one else, Klavier at least appreciated it more than he would ever say.
"By the way. I don't believe I ever introduced myself. Klavier Gavin."
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He wasn't so sure they'd done enough and he definitely wasn't sure they'd done anything that would have helped the young man walk when he otherwise might not have, but he was willing to take Klavier's word for it—he'd been through an experiment (even if the details were probably different; the young man from last night hadn't looked like he'd had a head wound), so maybe in that kind of situation, just being there was enough. Being seen at a moment of weakness like that had to be embarrassing, but there would also be the relief of knowing someone had come for you.....
Firo made a vague gesture towards the bandage on Klavier's head. "Did anyone help you when you got that?" he asked, curiosity getting the best of him.
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The question, again, caught him a bit off guard. He supposed it was only natural, given the flow of the conversation. But he honestly didn't want to talk about it. ...Kind of brilliant, that. Torment people enough and they won't want to share details, leaving the general population ignorant. It was kind of annoying. Either way, he was avoiding the bait of releasing more details regarding it. Especially when he wasn't being directly asked.
"No." It was said bluntly; simply stating a fact. And that was how he would continue speaking about this sort of subject, especially when in reference to himself. The last thing he ever wanted was to be pitied. "I don't think it's terribly common for that to happen, to be honest. You would have to know where they are held and hope you can manage to get to them. ...Or else hope to be there when they make it out, as in your case." Kind of depressing if you thought too much on it. Klavier smiled. "Which is why last night was so fortunate."
He finished rinsing his hair, figuring that was enough risk of infection for now. They were probably going to embarrass him and change his bandages anyway. Then, a thought occurred to him. "Where... is it that you found this person, exactly? Around what area?"
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Either way, he wasn't going to pry further, this time. Klavier had already answered that no one had helped him, and whether or not someone had tried wasn't as important in the end.
"We found him upstairs," he answered instead, tilting his head up as he recalled the way Peter had led him. "There was a hallway to the left of the stairs. The second door in it was locked and led to another hall with doors on either side. He came out of one of those rooms."