damned_institute | Dayshift 62: Sun Room [Third Shift]

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Dayshift 62: Sun Room [Third Shift]

Last night had been a nightmare. That had to be what it was, but Ilia couldn't deny reality. In her anguish, Ilia had slept through the first half of the day plagued by nightmares. In her dreams she saw Rose's broken body all over again with Gamzee standing over her, his club raised to strike again. Somewhere, she could hear Martin Landel laughing.

Much like the battle last night, Ilia was overcome by her powerlessness. Was she really so useless? Why did it have to be the children who suffered pain and death? Why was she left alive here? She didn't wish for her own death, but if she could have given up her life to save Rose... But nothing could be done now

Ilia had failed to save an ally in need. If only her Captain could have been here, then just maybe his uncanny luck and drive might have saved them. He had a miraculous touch that could solve anything. Ilia now understood why she would never be on equal footing with him.

Miserably, Ilia roused herself at her nurse's insistence that she come eat. She didn't take a moment to brush her hair or wash her face. She just followed along as directed, trying to ignore the hallow feeling in her chest. Ilia wasn't hungry, but she took one of the bags offered to her and trudged to the bulletin. She addressed a few notes then added one herself. It wasn't the prettiest note, but Ilia couldn't produce the level of prose that Rose deserved. Instead, she wrote it quickly, like ripping off a band-aid. Short. To the point.

Her task done, Ilia found seat in the corner and sunk down into the cushion. Burying her face in her hands, she concentrated on breathing. She couldn't face the sun today.

[For ~~her children~~ Claude and Anise]

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"This isn't an interrogation, Prosecutor. If you don't want to talk about it, you don't need to." How many times had she said something like that to Ema, after SL-9? Don't talk about it, so I won't have to lie to you. Though that was really Badd's job, here. She was just the accessory to -- what should she call it? -- coddling an officer of the law?

When she got back to Los Angeles she was going to buy a case of Scotch and a case of baby bottles and make this Christmas unforgettable in the Prosecutor's Office.

Her thoughts had taken on an edge of hysteria, and she knew it. Breathe, Lana, before it spills over. Now, what were you talking about? Oh, right.

"He's just worried about you." At least he wasn't following Byrne around insisting he eat. She'd done that to Ema, sometimes. Though, if she was being honest, back home, it had usually been the other way around. Being nagged by a fifteen-year-old was, perhaps, not her finest moment. Especially since she hadn't ever thanked Ema for it. Well, the least she could do was try now.

She opened her lunch bag back up and looked into it -- not even the brownie looked appetizing. "Either the stress is getting to me, or Landel wasn't kidding about something going around. I'm not sure which I'd prefer, frankly."

A cold, definitely. Even the flu. But Landel had sounded far too cheerful about the prospect; he was up to something. If she hadn't slept through all of last night, maybe she'd know more. Maybe Byrne knew more. Which was why she'd brought it up in the first place, and her logic was going around in circles. Which was par for the course, really.

Byrne glanced up at Lana in surprise. Well...well yeah, he honestly didn't want to talk about what was bothering him. But at the same time, he was still trying to figure out these connections in his head, and he felt like he was just about to figure something...though his head just felt so foggy for some reason...maybe that headache was to blame.

...well, whatever. She was right. He didn't need to talk about it, nor did he even need to think about it. Once again, he'd put it out of his mind and focus on other things. It wasn't Ms. Skye's problem anyway...she didn't need to worry about him, and he didn't need to throw his problems at her. Byrne just nodded his head slowly, agreeing to drop this topic here. He wouldn't even argue with her suggesting Badd was just worrying about him (even though he really wanted to argue that because if he was really worried he wouldn't run around telling everybody about Byrne's issues and Byrne's problems and how dare he and uuurgh).

... Besides, there was something else to be concerned with here. Namely, Lana's stray comment about the 'something' Landel mentioned going around. Not just her comment - she didn't look too good, admittedly. Not a good sign. "You're not feeling well either, huh?" The prosecutor sighed. "I'd prefer the latter, personally. I'd rather this be thanks to something natural rather than stress." Rather not hear that they've all really been losing their heads.

Edited 2012-03-16 18:04 (UTC)

"Because stress would be so out of the question, right, Mr. Faraday?" She wasn't quite ready to be joking about all of this, but it seemed habit had caught up with her; pushing people away, with gentle humor as much as with more traditional means, had become a way of life.

"I'm not sure anything around here would quite qualify as natural. But yes, I don't feel very well at all." She closed her eyes and took stock. Her head was pounding, and she wasn't just not hungry -- food sounded revolting. She could eat under stress; she didn't always remember to, but she didn't feel like this. "I think I might even be running a fever. That or it's almost as cold in here as it was out in the courtyard, and I doubt that."

"Well." A wry, crooked smile came over the prosecutor's face, and he let out a small laugh. "A little optimism never hurts." As much as optimism in this place did tend to hurt from experience, and might even be foolish, given what went on every day and night. But who knew, perhaps it was all a sign that this place was finally getting to them.

How horrible of a thought that was.

The smile disappeared as Ms. Skye went on to describe her symptoms. "Sounds like we've got the same thing," Byrne replied with a sigh. "I might be running one, too. I don't have chills, but I have had a nasty headache all day...and also, I feel unusually exhausted and, well. Out of it, I guess." That was most likely why he was finding it hard to concentrate right now. Not because of everything bad that had happened to him, but simply because he was ill. Perhaps he had a worse fever than he realized and just didn't feel it as much as he probably should? It wasn't impossible.

The look on Lana's face, for a split second, might have given away exactly how painful she found optimism. Then it smoothed over into something in between bland and exhausted, as he reiterated the same symptoms back to her. She couldn't hide the symptoms, but she could hide in them, at least a little.

"And sleeping is the last thing either of us can afford to do." She sighed, and pressed a hand to her temples. "I just hope a cold is all it is."

"He didn't say anything unusual, last night, did he?" She'd fallen asleep after eating, and the next thing she'd known the reveille was blaring out -- if there'd been any cryptic hints to this, she'd missed them. Nothing on the bulletin, which pointed to no, but assumptions were a fool's errand.

"Me, too." At least if it was a cold, something harmless going around, then they had no reason to worry about it and they could just deal with being sick for a few days.

But what was 'harmless' in this place?

Sigh. Again. Byrne tried to think of what Landel had said over the intercom at the end of last night, but all he could really remember was a shard of glass being pushed into his hand just before everything had gone black. (That was, of course, at the real end of the night, and not the end where he'd woken up several minutes after 'dreaming'.) "I didn't hear it if he did," he confessed, scratching the back of his neck. "I missed the end of the night broadcast."

Although, Byrne did remember what was said at the beginning of the night... "Did you catch what Landel said after dinner, though? I remember him saying something about keeping around one of the military's programs and having some of the patients meet with him personally, but I'm not sure what he meant by any of it." And that didn't have anything to do with getting sick, either.

"Damn." She shook her head. "No, I didn't."

"I wonder if he meant the missions." Ilia hadn't mentioned meeting Aguilar, but Landel seemed more likely than his replacement to want a personal touch on the proceedings. "A friend of mine -- and, no, I do not mean myself, or my sister," she said that which should be obvious, since neither of them was terribly well-equipped for murder, no matter how many times they were framed for it.

"She was forced to run an ugly little errand on General Aguilar's behalf." She tried to remember how much had come out over the bulletin afterward -- a bit, but not the whole story. Hopefully she wasn't being as cavalier with Ilia's privacy as a certain colleague had been with Byrne's, but if he'd been paying close attention to the bulletin, he might be able to put it together. "I wouldn't be surprised if Landel liked that idea enough to continue, even if he had to admit he hadn't come up with it."

The missions...? Oh, right. Byrne remembered hearing about those over the board some time ago, when the military was still in control of the Institute. The 'errand running' that Skye said happened to her friend had been described on the board at the time, too. He couldn't remember what kind of 'errand' had been mentioned specifically, but that didn't matter so much, did it? Just knowing that Aguilar had been making patients do his dirty work for him was enough.

It wasn't hard to imagine Landel making the patients run 'errands' for him, too - nor was it hard to imagine Landel meeting those mission participants personally. "I wouldn't be surprised either, knowing how Landel is."

But that didn't mean the idea made perfect sense. Byrne crossed his arms and furrowed his brow in thought. "But what could Landel want the patients to do for him?" Did he still have a connection with Aguilar? Or what else could that madman be planning?

"I'm not sure it matters what they accomplish. More that he can make them do it, I expect." Because I could -- how many murderers had she heard say that. Or thieves -- It was there. The criminal mind wasn't that different from the normal one; it just lacked the restraints most people found in-built.

"I haven't gotten the impression Landel would have any qualms doing the things Aguilar asked for -- nor that Aguilar would." The General hadn't seemed quite as eager -- more that he valued expediency at the cost of compassion, but if that was true, a new question arose. "Or maybe he does need the help; Aguilar had quite the army, but he was the one who started the missions. Maybe it's just that we can leave here without ill affect."

Gladly. Joyfully. Except for the part where the missions had only been for a night, and had involved killing, with an incentive strong enough to get Ilia to agree.

Skye's initial reasoning made sense. A big part of Landel's excuse for most of his actions in this place seemed to be so he could assert his control over the patients; that could easily be a reason for the missions as well. (Plus, Byrne, too, had seen many criminals breaking laws while justifying their actions with 'just because', so it wasn't like he was going to ignore the possibility of that being a reason for this, too.) But Landel going through the trouble and risk of sending his patient 'stock' away from this place and possibly losing them? He had to have some kind of reason for it besides 'just because', right?

"That theory sounds more likely," Byrne said in response to Lana's consideration that Landel needing the help of the patients was also possible. Definitely seemed more plausible than 'just because' to him. "But--I know little here makes logical sense, but I can't help trying to make sense of this anyway. Why would Landel want to risk losing patients with his so-called errands when supposedly he and this world need us for their survival?"

That had Byrne seriously confused. If this place was intended to be some sort of 'last hope' after an almost-apocalypse struck this world, then for what reason would Landel have certain 'programs' around like the nightly torture sessions? Or why would he want monsters roaming around here? Unless Lydia had been lying?

...Wait. First off, did...Lana know about the whole 'possible reason for their being here' yet? Oh man. If she didn't know...

Annoyance shocked Lana's mind out of the fog of grief and illness, if only for a moment. Had everyone known about the (rumored) nature of this world except her? Had she been so busy trying to protect Ema that she'd missed the obvious lying in plain sight? It wouldn't have been the first time. And, if she was honest, there was little she wouldn't give to have it not be the last, either.

"Mmm. How much does it cost him to bring in new ones, though? Perhaps we could be both critical and expendable. Though what he needs half the complement of the Prosecutor's Office for is still to be seen." Having quite a few people who'd worked together before actually made a great deal of sense if one was putting together a new legal system, but if they were doing that, they could just have asked. All of them wanted to go home, but the idea of building an entire world's judicial system from the ground up? Tempting.

Especially since many of them had little or none of it left to go home to -- Prosecutor Faraday was going home to die, she was certain to be disbarred, Gant had likely been on Death Row, Badd had called himself an ex-Detective...quite a few of them could have used a fresh start, and the ones who didn't need it tended towards bright-eyed idealism and would probably help out of the goodness of their hearts. Meekins would probably have gone anywhere she asked him to, despite knowing her sins.

Lana brought up two good points, the first of which was debatable but not impossible. Admittedly, though, it was unsettling to imagine the people here being thought of as 'expendable' by Landel, even though such a thought wasn't difficult to imagine (because, well, it was Landel). It was probably so unsettling to Byrne because there were so many kids and young adults here. Kids who, unlike him, had so many years ahead of them, their lives just barely starting. But he wasn't about to bring that up out loud, in case Lana's sister Ema was indeed as young as he'd been assuming she was. Mentioning the younger patients here with words like 'expendable', even in order to condemn said words, would be a rather tactless thing to do right now.

So instead, Byrne would frown and nod his head, choosing to say nothing on that particular point. (At least it seemed like Lana knew about the theory of why they were all here - or at least, she wasn't surprised to hear it in general terms if she hadn't.) "See, it's little details like that that make me think there's something else behind all this madness," he said, shaking his head. "Some bigger plot we aren't aware of, rather than Landel just picking and choosing random people off the street to throw into his cruel torture games of his. Why did he bring so many people from the same office here? And why does he need lawyers and detectives to prevent an apocalypse, anyway? There has to be some--"

Unfortunately, the intercom came on to interrupt him before he had the chance to finish his thought. If the intercom was on now, that meant...oh, damn. Lunch didn't feel like it'd lasted very long at all. Byrne hadn't even eaten anything - not that he would have had he not been talking to Lana, his headache having killed any appetite he might have had. "Looks like we'll have to continue this some other time," the older prosecutor commented unhappily. He tried to give Lana a reassuring smile as he stood from his seat, preparing to leave for the next shift. "Well, try to stay strong, Ms. Skye. The trial's not over yet. I'm sure we'll figure this all out." One way or another.

Hopefully.

Faraday's thoughts echoed her own; it was both frustrating, as those thoughts comprised a list of questions without answers, and confirmation. Both of them were thinking rationally, despite their respective losses.

"Likewise, Mr. Faraday." He sounded more sure than she felt; was he really that optimistic, or was he just better at faking it that she was? She'd never tried faking happiness, or hope; those always rang false.

But the least she could do was try. She folded her lunchbag closed, realized she couldn't take it into the showers, and set it back down on the table. "If I find any more ...inconsistencies, I'll let you know."

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Dayshift 62: Sun Room [Third Shift]

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