Day 64: Sun Room

[overlimit]

This time, when Rita awakened, the drowsiness and disorientation cleared much faster than it had during the night. Being in a familiar room with traces of light helped with that. Instinctively, she tried to pull herself up, but the motion sent a piercing pain through her chest.

"Oh, Paige, let me help you!" a nurse cried from the doorway as she rushed to Rita's side. For once, Rita wasn't about to put up a fight, though she grumbled a bit as she was eased upright and to her feet. Her right arm was in a cast, which was kept immobilized in a sling. Wherever skin was visible, bruising could be found, and a particularly deep shade of blackish-blue could be seen peeking out from the edge of her shirt collar.

As they began to walk to the Sun Room, the nurse continued talking. "I hope you're not too disappointed at missing the field trip. But I have good news for you! The doctors say you'll be good as new in no time, so long as you take care and don't aggravate your injuries." The woman went on to list a number of activities the mage should avoid or ask for help with, as though Rita couldn't figure those things out for herself. Finally, they reached their destination and Rita was left in peace.

First things first: the bulletin. Since it was early in the day, there weren't many messages from patients yet. That was fine; it would mean her own message would be more visible. First, she needed to notify Taura of her situation, and then there were a few magic-related topics she wanted to inquire about...

Rita picked up a pen and a slip of paper, bent over one of the tables near the bulletin, and began to write... but the letters came out jerky and illegible.

"Dammit," she hissed, scrapping the paper and beginning again. Using only her non-dominant hand was more difficult than she imagined. This time, she wrote very slowly, taking care to write each stroke of each letter neatly. The result was still awkward-looking, but at least it was a readable start. She just needed to be patient... though that was a virtue Rita certainly lacked.

[Taura!]

Comments

[stop_the_rain]

It wasn't the waking up in a bed he didn't fall asleep in, or even having no idea how much time had been lost to the darkness that brought him here that bothered him most. Those were normal, just the average tourist's way of getting around Silent Hill!

What bothered him was the nurse. He'd never liked nurses, at least conventional ones, and the smiling, vapid-eyed looking middle aged woman who prattled on to him about the 'fine Institute' he'd found himself in seemed to be every TV cliche that had ever grated on his nerves.

This was all pretty fucked up, he decided, as he was led out of the little room he'd woken up in twice now. New tactic? Or...or was this his life now? Was this what the town had given him, a prison of a different sort? They wouldn't even tell him why he was in there, just that it was 'for the best' and he was receiving 'the highest standard of care'.

Maybe he was just like Ricks and Slater now. This was his own little private patch of Silent Hill. Nina probably hadn't been real, either, just the perfect sort of illusion to show a chivalrous ex-con. Was anybody else here really real, or just window dressing?

Or maybe...maybe they were stuck, too. Like Cunningham and him. Ugh, this wasn't fair!

Frustrated and trying hard not to snap at every white-clad figure that passed by, Murphy decided to look to what was likely to give him the most information. A board covered with notes and papers. At least that was normal! He stood by the board, frowning at the handful of notes. Nothing that seemed at all helpful to him....

Were the movie titles on the Activities Notice some sort of puzzle clues?

[For Harvey]

[dualistic]

Harvey woke up suddenly, drawn from the abandoned town and its undead residents back into the warm bed that he had gotten overly used to over the weeks. The transition was more jarring than usual, if only because he'd moved such a far distance away from the institute. This just went to show that no matter how far they tried to run, there was really no way of escaping.

Still, with any luck he'd gotten himself some more ammunition, which was bound to come in handy at some point, even if it was only by way of shooting Landel and Aguilar both in the head. He didn't have the time right now to check if the rounds had safely made their way into his box, though, seeing how a nurse walked in a second later.

"Come along, Mr. Eckhart. You always choose to go to the Sun Room on Sundays, don't you?"

Harvey was shocked that she remembered. These nurses didn't really seem like real people a lot of the time, so the idea that they could retain that sort of information was unsettling in a strange way. Still, he only nodded, letting her lead him straight into the Sun Room, where he quickly noticed the pattering of rain overhead.

While he had no interest in offering any suggestions or voting on what movie they watched today, he did want to see what else was being posted on the bulletin board. He didn't hesitate to step up to it, pausing when he realized there was already someone in the way.

"You almost finished?" he asked, not putting much effort into sounding polite. At least he wasn't being outwardly hostile, which was really more than anyone could expect of him at this hour.

[stop_the_rain]

Murphy looked away from the board when he was addressed, and shuffled out of the way with an inclination of his head. He doubted the movies meant anything - they weren't even the ones from the movie theater. He was just standing there taking up room at this point.

"Sorry," he mumbled, not used to this sort of environment. Unless he was at workshop, in the yard or in the caf, Murphy was used to being in his cell. This 'roam around normal rooms' kind of confinement was hard to acclimate himself to.

He rubbed the back of his neck and debated a moment before speaking up. Hell, it didn't hurt to ask questions.

"Uh...is this updated all day?"

[dualistic]

If things had gone his way, the stranger would have moved away and found someplace to sit and he would have been able to read the morning messages in peace. But things hadn't gone this way since he'd woken up in this place -- no, since before that -- so he wasn't overly shocked when the man asked a question instead.

Harvey's gaze had caught on a familiar name -- his roommate's -- and the message attached to it. Lunge was gone? That shouldn't have been a surprise seeing how the past few days the man had either kept to himself or slept through dinner, but it was still something of a shock. They had been roommates for longer than any of the other people he'd been forced to share a space with in this place.

Maybe the most frustrating part of that was that he would have to start all over again with someone else, but he could deal with that later. For now, this guy was asking him something.

"We're allowed to post things up all day, if that's what you mean," he said with a shrug. "It definitely gets the most activity first thing in the morning, but if you put something up you'll have to check back periodically for responses." It was a pain, but at least they had some way of interacting with each other that wasn't face-to-face. Seeing how he didn't have the most charming of appearances, what with half of his face being swathed in bandages, that sometimes worked in his favor.

[fourstonewalls]

The voice on the intercom sounded twice as loud as usual, and Lana resisted the urge to pull her pillow over her head. Besides, that would require moving, and she wasn't sure she wanted to. Everything ached, especially her legs. Running several miles while ill wasn't the kindest thing she'd ever done to her body, especially when she might well have been able to stay put. Zero and Leanne couldn't have, though, and it wasn't like the night had been completely unproductive.

Still, staying in bed didn't sound so bad, at least until Landel reached the end of his monologue. Medicine. Hah. Either it would be a trap, or it would lull them into a false sense of security, and even as muddied as her mind felt, she was determined not to fall prey to either. When the nurses bustled into the room, she stood up, nodded to them, and walked out into the hall without a word.

There was no hiding the rash on her hand and arm now, so she didn't bother trying to hide it, or the fact that she was walking more slowly than usual. Instead, she asked for -- and received -- a glass of water, and sat down on one of the couches, propping her feet up. Keeping her eyes open was a challenge, but one she managed handily. Just because she could no longer hide her illness didn't mean she couldn't hide the fact that it terrified her.

[Scar!]

[envy_the_sinners]

Another morning in this hell.

The intercom awoke Scar in something of a daze as he struggled to bring his eyes to focus on the ceiling. The constant touch of nausea still hadn't run its course, and his head still pounded a bit. The white cloth around his right hand indicated that he had been properly attended to some time in the night.(When, he had no idea) But it wasn't enough to cover the rash that was still spreading up his arm. Scar scowled, letting his head fall back onto the pillow.

He was exhausted and achy, but try as he might, his nurse insisted that he rouse himself. Apparently it was Sunday, so he was allowed to sit in the Sun Room. Brunch would be later, according to the overly cheerful orderly.

The disgruntled yet groggy Ishbalan shuffled into the Sun Room, which was thankfully still relatively empty. Then the nurse started blabbing about making friends again. Simply for the sake of keeping her quiet, Scar slumped into a chair next to a woman who, upon closer scrutiny, had a similar rash on her arm. It was good to know that, at least, he wasn't alone with this damn sickness.

That didn't mean that it didn't unnerve him, though.

Questions about this place still circled his head like vultures. Scar couldn't find a point in any of this. What had he found, the past three nights? What had he accomplished? Nothing but getting hurt. Perhaps this woman knew more about it all than he. After all, this was only his fourth time waking up here. (Was it really only four days? It felt like an eternity.)

"Do things like this happen often?" He indicated the rash on his hand, then turned his gaze to properly acknowledge the person lounging next to him.

[fourstonewalls]

"Sundays?" Lana raised her eyebrows. She knew exactly what he was asking, but it gave her a few moments to come up with an answer. It also gave her a chance to study the man beyond noting the rash on his hand. She'd seen him a few times, in the hallways; the scar across his forehead was rather memorable. All of the times had been recent, though, so he hadn't been here long -- this might be the first of Landel's games he'd run into.

"The rash itself is new, as is the accompanying threat. It fits the usual modus operandi." She'd never admit it to anyone, but sometimes she loved her job just because she was able to say modus operandi with a straight face. "Forcing us to turn on each other, bizarre aliments and afflictions, and vague premonitions show up about, mmm, biweekly. This one has taken an unusually long time to come to fruition."

[envy_the_sinners]

The Ishbalan nodded, turning to stare rather blankly at nothing in particular. He was having trouble focusing. He definitely needed sleep, even though it didn't feel like an option around here.

"You think these... vague threats are on any solid ground?" Or were they empty words designed to, as she had said, turn them against one another?

Scar sneered. Biweekly. It was even on a schedule. Perhaps she used the term loosely, but in his mind, games were games.

And this Landel man was just enjoying the show.

[ninelivesonce]

Morning dawned, and Taura still felt like herself. At least as much as I ever could, here, she added. Not sick, not dead, and ravenous.

Except it wasn't breakfast yet. Her shoulders slumped, and she slowed to a stroll. She'd check the bulletin, first, and then maybe go up to the chapel. She wasn't religious, but it was kind of pretty, and -- wait!

Was that Rita? It was. It was one thing to hear about people coming back from the dead, and another to have Rita standing a few meters ahead of her, struggling with pen and paper, but breathing and alive and right there. Taura gulped air, and then continued her slow approach.

"Want a hand with that?"

[overlimit]

Rita had barely gotten through one sentence when someone approached her with an offer of help. She lifted her head to snap at whoever it was – it didn’t matter if she was struggling, receiving help for something so simple was just insulting – but when she saw that it was Taura, she merely paused with her mouth half-open.

There was a moment of silence, and then she reached over, crumpled the paper she was writing on, and tossed it into the wastebasket with the previous attempt.

“… Actually, you’re the one I wanted to get in touch with,” she explained once that was done. While Rita didn’t enjoy being caught off-guard, the fact remained that this was a convenient encounter. She had a few things to ask Taura – and Taura probably had some questions for her as well. “Got a minute? Let’s sit down somewhere.”

[ninelivesonce]

"All the time you want." It was a miracle, that's what it was, in a place that already specialized in them. Even if most of them were anti-miracles. All the wonder, twice the horror. Hopefully this one didn't come with that kind of price, though she thought perhaps she'd avoid saying voicing that concern out loud.

She found a set of chairs -- there were several nearby, but she thought this conversation would be better with a little privacy, and so she appropriated two over in a corner. "What...happened?"

[overlimit]

Rita followed Taura to the chairs, easing herself gently into one. It didn’t seem to matter how careful she was – every movement sent pain surging through her chest. She was just going to have to endure it until she could do something about it.

“That’s what I’d like to know,” she answered with a groan. “I blacked out after the brat hit me with that blast. The next thing I knew, it was a day later and I’d been stuffed into a drawer in some kind of… morgue.” It wasn’t like any morgue Rita was aware of, but the room’s purpose was self-evident.

Though there were a number of things she wanted to ask Taura, sorting out the events of that night was probably a good place to start – for both of them. “Can you tell me anything about what happened in between?”

[hairraising]

Rapunzel entered the Sun Room with feet dragging faintly, familiar grey clothing sagging on her body. Last night hadn't been the worst night she'd had since getting here, but in a way, the fact that it wasn't the worst night ever was hard enough to think about. That said something about the kind of life she was getting used to here — the life that Eugene would have to get use to too.

I guess he might be better prepared for this sort of thing than I was when I got here, she thought, chewing her lip as she flashed back to him bashing in that giant bird's skull, covering himself in dark blood. Still...

Talking with Tsubaki after waking up had helped. The two of them had told each other about their nights, and hearing that Tsubaki hadn't been hurt had been a relief. She could only hope that no one else had been seriously hurt either. Though, with so many of those birds in the sky, it was hard to imagine they hadn't hurt anyone. She needed to check on both Eugene and Kratos tonight; they were going to need healing after the run-ins they'd had with those claws.

From the looks of the board, a specific person had been the cause of the crash the day before. Someone had even posted a detailed account of what had happened. Rapunzel ought to have been mad, maybe, but ultimately she couldn't be. Maybe she was just too worn out to get riled up about it, but she could also just see where the man was coming from. As someone with her (ahem) "unique perspective" on long-term confinement, she could relate. Oh how she could relate.

Eventually, Rapunzel found her way over to one of the couches. Hopefully Eugene would be in here soon enough, she thought as she sank into the cushions. She couldn't imagine he would go up to the chapel, unless he led a secret double life as a monk that she didn't know about. Flynn Rider: Thieving Priest. Sounds like the title of a book, she thought, cracking the first small smile of the day.

[Flynngene]

[brokensmolder]

Eugene stared at the ceiling.

Just like yesterday morning, he found himself lying in bed with no knowledge of how he'd gotten there, but this time he didn't have (almost?) dying as an excuse. One minute they had been fleeing into the woods, away from the buses and the birds and the minor carnage they'd caused towards the relative safety of the trees; the next, he was 'safe' in the bed that he figured would be his until he broke out of here, his clothes changed and his leg bandaged. The same woman as yesterday came in chattering cheerfully as she went about checking that his bandages were secure, but all he could see was a face that was barely recognizable as a face horribly twisted into a death grin and a metal-taloned hand reaching towards him...

What had happened to the nurses on the bus?

Had they survived Kratos' glowing red fireball (and it was a mark of how bizarre/terrifying the last twenty-four hours had been that Eugene was completely comfortable with the whole glowing fireball thing) or whatever else the night had thrown at them? Were they here? Would he see them again, human as they had been, or was their nightmareish (actually, not "ish;" it was a nightmare) transformation permanent?

"You're looking a little pale there, Mr. Bartowski. Does your leg hurt?"

After that, Eugene at least made a token effort to keep up the facade that everything was hunky dory in Flynn's world. He was both sarcastic and charming, deftly flirting his way out of being stuck with a cane for the rest of the day. Sure, his limp was one for the record books, but he still had his vanity.

The cheerfully sunny woman led him into a cheerfully sunny room, and some of the dark clouds that had been hovering over Eugene vanished. Rapunzel was there, sitting on a couch and looking whole and well and safe. He flopped down beside her, drawing her close (just to make sure she wasn't hurt. Of course.).

"Some night."

[hairraising]

Rapunzel didn't take long to notice him coming her way. Even in the Institute's dehumanizing grey ensemble, his face stood out in the crowd. That faint smile still on her face, she welcomed him to sit by her side and she let him draw her close. Her head rested in the crook of his shoulder as she settled into his warmth. "Yeah... Yeah, you never really get used to it," she answered, voice barely above a sigh.

Her hand found its way to his, and she stroked his thumb idly for a while, background chatter from around the room the only sound between them. "You were on the bus that went down, right?" she asked after the moment had passed. "I heard it happened because someone got rowdy. Is that true?"

[thecamellia]

_{[Lokiiiii, come to me~]}

The shadow cast by the night’s events had sat over her all throughout her morning routine, chilling her in unnamed places. But despite her distraction, there had been one thing she couldn’t forget: Rapunzel. Finding out that her roommate was okay had helped a little.

But only a little. There were still others out there, others she wasn’t so sure about. And there was still the Head Doctor’s “sickness” to contend with.

It was enough to make Tsubaki want to crawl under the covers and block the world out. Withdrawing just wasn’t an option, however, and Tsubaki willed herself to keep her composure on her way past the entry room, even if she spared it a long look. Done was done. She knew it, but it still hurt. Was Landel truly reaping all the souls of his victims, or was he just mutilating bodies for the sake of it? Either answer was horrible.

Given that the Institute was still feeling the aftershocks from last night, the first stop of the day, first and foremost, had to be the bulletin board. Tsubaki knew there were a few people who might be looking for her, and she was sure most people would be headed that way, so it seemed like a good place to linger in. Any news would be good news. The quiet defeats and disappearances were just as significant as the… as the public defeats.

Against her will, an image of the blood-splattered entryway rose in her mind, and she sighed to herself under her breath. But she didn’t let her dread show in her eyes. No. She couldn’t. Not now.

Not until everyone was free and they could go home.

[complicatedliar]

Morning was about as pleasant as normal, which was to say highly annoying, but Loki was equal to the task of dealing with it. As expected, the room showed no signs of the hasty operation that had occurred there the night before, though Loki fancied he did catch a whiff of latex off his hands - possibly wishful thinking, though. He gathered up his normal supplies - notebook, pens - and greeted the nurse with perfectly mimicked cheer, asking to go to the Sun Room.

Loki knew he was supposed to speak with Tsubaki at some point in the day, and he was in a cheery enough mood to do so without driving himself completely mad. Still, he stopped short in the entrance of the Sun Room, catching site of Rita.

...well then. He might be playing a little revenge joke on someone.

However, she was already speaking with someone - that alone indicated she probably wasn't a hallucination, which was certainly a nice thing to know - so he didn't want to interrupt her.

And Tsubaki. Right.

Loki went over to the girl and sat next to her. She wasn't exactly looking her normal bright and cheery self. "Good morning," he said.

[thecamellia]

Her gaze had wandered to Leanne, who stood scowling by the bulletin board, but when someone approached her seat she blinked and looked away. “Hello,” she greeted as Lingormr took a seat beside her. “It’s good to see you.” Being someone she had wanted to check in on, this was definitely true. Turning to face him, she added, “How are you?”

After last night, just being up and moving was a good sign. And… Her eyes dropped to his hands. If he had a rash like Sora, Leanne, and Kurogane did, she couldn’t see it. That was a good sign, too, right?

All things considered, Tsubaki didn’t know what she would do if any more of the people she knew ended up sick. It was easier protecting someone from a giant, predatory bird than something worming its way through their body.

“I hope you got away okay last night. That was a… bad situation.”

[oneman_onekill]

As soon as he opened his eyes, Niikura's heart seized up in a panic. He all but flung himself out of bed, and it took the nurse at least ten minutes to calm him down enough to convince him that sprinting to Shiina's room was a bad idea.

"No, you don't understand, I have to make sure--!"

"Tsuneo, I'm sure Reiko is exactly where she is supposed to be. In fact, she might still be sleeping. You don't want to disturb her, do you?"

He wanted to shout her down, but reminded himself that doing so wouldn't gain anything, just sedation. He needed to be calm, at least outwardly. Niikura took a deep breath and willed himself to believe that Shiina was alright at least for the next five minutes. She's fine. She'll be a bit shaken, but nothing you can't handle. He was lying to himself, but right now, that was the only way to keep himself from putting a fist through whatever happened to be closest.

There was no Shiina in the Sun Room, and he nearly stormed out the instant he realized that, but patience...in the end, Niikura resorted to pacing anxiously around the room, eyeing the door every three seconds. If she didn't appear, he didn't care what happened to him. He was going to find her one way or another. She needed him. She wasn't supposed to be involved in anything, ever. She was supposed to be safe, spared from all the things that he would deal with for her.

...He needed her too. Even if she called him "Hazama" sometimes, he knew. Shiina was the only person capable of keeping him in check.

[NOT!GIRLFRIEND HELP]

[requitedfate]

Shiina woke with a gasp. Shou. He had been there, right in front of her, and those birds had--

"Reiko, are you still unwell?" A cool, soothing hand gently touched her forehead and Shiina snapped into the present. Her nurse was eying her with concern. In her other hand was glass of water, as if she had preempted Shiina's nightmare. She handed it over and Shiina gulped it down.

"It's Sunday, so brunch will be served in another few hours. Would you rather sleep in a little, Reiko?" Surprised, Shiina shook her head, getting to her feet shakily. As kind as her nurse's words were, Shiina couldn't just put things off. That was running away. She couldn't run any longer. Not with this fever. Or the rash, which was creeping further up her arm, nearly to the elbow now.

"I'll rest in the Sun Room. But can I have some medicine?" She still felt the fever burning in her head, though it was just as light as it had been for the past two days. Smiling, her nurse obliged her then led her off to the place Shiina had dictated.

Moving through the doors, it wasn't hard to spot Shou with his telltale white hair. Her strong mask cracked when her gaze met his, and she could feel wetness building behind her eyes. She bit her bottom lip, if only to keep it from trembling.

[oneman_onekill]

He had even tried replying to some stuff on the bulletin to try and alleviate some of the nervous energy building up, but all that had done was make him angrier as he looked over the account from the bus that had crashed and the bastard who had the nerve, after all he'd done, to come out and say that 'no one was put in any danger'. What a load of bullshit. In the end, Niikura had been forced to distance himself from the board as well before he put a fist through that.

Just as well because right then, Shiina walked into the room. Niikura's face lit up as their eyes met, a smile of relief on his face as he bounded over to her. "Nagasawa! You're alri..." The word and his smiled died when he saw the tears beginning to well up in her eyes. Oh, no. It was probably better that they were seated for this. Taking her gently by the arm, he guided her over to an empty couch and then plopped down next to her with an arm around her shoulders.

"I'd ask if everything's alright, but...stupid question, huh?"

[survives]

There was something entirely too disorientating about going from Doyleton to back in her bed at the Institute, as if the distance she'd covered the night before meant nothing, as if she'd never even left it. And wasn't that a tempting thought just then, staying in bed? It was almost as if she hadn't slept at all, with just how very tired she felt upon waking, her limbs feeling heavier than usual. Likely a result of racing to town while running from monsters, but it sure didn't make it any less annoying.

...Not to mention her arm. One look at it, at the way the rash on her hand had only spread during the night, (enough that she couldn't even begin to imagine how to hide it now) and the urge to crawl under the covers and hope it was all only a bad dream increased tenfold. There was something about this place doing this to her, something even worse than the monsters and nurses and even the townspeople. And she couldn't deny, at least not to herself, that the thought was absolutely terrifying.

But giving into that fear, that was exactly what Leanne couldn't do, exactly what she couldn't let herself do. Landel's voice on the intercom was enough of a reminder of that. He was behind all of this and, if she had to be stuck here, she'd be damned if she couldn't find some sort of way to strike back at him.

So she let herself be led by a nurse into the Sun Room, making her usual stop at the bulletin board... and quickly finding out just what had caused the commotion last night.

There were plenty of notes explaining the situation inside the crashed bus: one even giving the name of the person who'd caused it and another having a detailed recounting of it. Leanne couldn't quite help a scowl as she read, her arms crossed. Of all the stupid things... She couldn't blame the guy for trying. She wanted to get out too, after all. But his method? Stupid. Completely stupid. And thanks to him, they'd nearly gotten themselves killed by those birds.

Huffing out a breath, she leaned in closer to the board, all her earlier worries temporarily forgotten. What else had they written about last night...

[Achtung, baby!]

[ryuuzaki]

The pain in L's shoulder woke him up.

It was still sharp, but not as bad as it had been the night before, and he could feel that a patch of gauze had been taped around it; the entire area was bizarrely inelastic, not like skin should be. He was clean, and dressed in a clean t-shirt and sweatpants, all the blood cleaned up. The only bright spot in the entire debacle was that his latest Doyleton sweater had probably been beyond salvaging and would have to be burned as medical waste.

Further down his arm, the rash was spreading. It was up past his wrist now. The other symptoms... his aching head and body, his exhaustion, what felt like a persistent low fever... those were also still present, getting worse. Running around in the cold last night, a night when he might honestly have elected to stay in bed, couldn't have helped. He still felt chilled and unwell, and wondered what a real doctor would say. He had worked through illnesses like this before with a lot of medication and determination and not too much other difficulty, but he hadn't had to go through the additional trouble of fighting off enormous, filthy birds of prey. Who had apparently taken an interest in his sex life.

When the nurse arrived, he asked her for medication and for assistance with getting a sweatshirt on over his head. She helped him with the sweatshirt, clucking over his injury—"We just have no idea what happened to you! Be more careful, Daniel"—and supporting his arm as he lowered it. She produced a sling and insisted on helping him with that, too. He doubted the injury was bad enough to require it, but anything that might help speed up the healing would be fine with him... furthermore, it would hide the rash. He let his arm rest in it, and swallowed the pills she gave him in response to his request. The analgesic was different, probably stronger. Maybe narcotic. He'd know later, if he got drowsy or nauseated.

He had to ask her a question, one that it would be better not to put off. He had a strong suspicion of what the answer would be, but he needed confirmation.

"My friend—Otto Jung. I haven't seen him since Friday. Is he sick?"

Her eyebrows went up, and she seemed mildly flustered, as if she hadn't been expecting him to ask, or couldn't place the name without a brief mental struggle. "Oh—yes, Otto, the older gentleman. I remember seeing the two of you together. No, Daniel, Otto's been released. Isn't that great?"

"Great," he echoed, without enthusiasm. "Yes."

Although he had expected this, the disappointment—the sinking feeling in his stomach—was more powerful than he would have anticipated. Release was better than death, but at best it meant that the person in question had had their identity completely overwritten by the one Landel had forced on them, that they were no longer themselves or, he was sure, anyone they would have wanted to be. Not recovered, but lost, like Abe had been.

"You should be happy for him. But maybe he'll visit you one of these days... or maybe you'll be well enough to go home soon yourself."

"I'm afraid it may be quite a while before that happens." Ordinarily, he would have let those words drip with regret; today couldn't muster the proper faux-mournful note, and sounded as flat and bitter and dismissive as he felt. What was the point of trying to appear to be moderately compliant? He might not be alive tomorrow to care whether or not the staff continued to see him as a well-behaved patient. In the meantime, this glumness was only to be expected from a patient who didn't feel well, was injured, and whose friend had apparently left him behind. It wouldn't cost him anything to let it stand.

She gave him a pitying look, and he retrieved his journal and a pen with a free hand, like every other day, and trailed out of the room after her. The sling was convenient; it made it easier to carry the journal and pen.

It was Sunday, so they wouldn't have breakfast right away. He could go to the chapel... it would be a pleasant, quiet place to mull over the ruinous state of his investigation and the encroaching possibility of a weird, stupid death... but proximity to the bulletin board would be vital today, so he'd have to pick the Sun Room. He left a simple note about Lunge's release, took a bathroom break, then read over the replies.

One took him aback: Someone who recognized Lunge's name from their own world. The circumstance wasn't outlandish, but to his knowledge, no one who came from where Lunge came from had been in the Institute in the time that L had been there. The timing was interesting, even if the event itself wasn't out of the ordinary.

He left a response, then waited at a distance, keeping his gaze fixed on his own note to see who would approach it, specifically looking for someone he didn't recognize, and noting which of the people he did recognize also approached it.

Only one unfamiliar person left replies to his note. She was young, maybe a few years younger than him, with long blonde hair and an athletic build. Attractive. If she knew Lunge, even by reputation, she might be German, but that might as easily not be the case.

He and Lunge had never really exchanged much personal information; the nearest they had come to it was the night two weeks earlier when they'd found themselves either in the Kira Task Force headquarters in Tokyo, or an approximation so close that it had manage to accurately reproduce details like the passcodes that L had set on safes. That night had demonstrated something about L to Lunge, but L had never been shown a corresponding picture of Lunge's milieu. The most he could say was that experience had shown the inspector to be quite competent for the purposes of investigating Landel's. The girl might be a former suspect of his... L would have to take his own best guess on that score after talking to her.

She was sitting in a chair by the time he approached her; he collapsed into the corner of a neighboring sofa, legs sprawling in front of him.

"Hello. You're the one who comes from the same place as Mr. Lunge?" His exhaustion was evident in his voice.

[Miss Fortner]

[mirrorimage]

Nina rubbed her eyes as she drifted back to consciousness. Her first thought was that everything that happened last night must have been some weird dream.

But no. Looking around, Nina realized that she was back in what looked like the same room she'd woken up in the night before, with no memory of how she'd gotten there. A woman in a nurse's uniform appeared in the doorway just as she was sitting up. Had it not been for the strange announcement last night, Nina would have started trying to explain everything to the nurse, or maybe trying to demand answers from her about what was happening, but as it was, she had no idea what to think. Was it safe to ask this woman anything? Did she know about what had happened last night? Could Nina even explain it without sounding crazy? She wondered about Murphy, too. Was he okay? She remembered him being fine the last she saw of him, but... if she was back in bed, where was he?

For now, she kept her tongue, but as she climbed out of bed, she heard the woman address her as Klara, a name that -- unlike "Anna" -- brought back no long-repressed memories or strange feelings. Blinking, she told the nurse, "I'm sorry, I'm -- I'm not Klara. I'm Nina." Maybe she looked a little like 'Klara', she thought. Maybe the woman would say something to indicate to Nina that she was trustworthy, and more questions could be asked.

But the nurse's reaction to that was simply to cluck her tongue and that it was important not to run from the past and to accept her real identity.

Words that stuck a chord with Nina, though for precisely the opposite reason the situation seemed to suggest.

The situation was dizzying. Nina grabbed her journal and pen, thinking she might want something to write things down with, before the nurse lead her out of the room. Nina trotted along in the direction she was guided, without fully understanding why or where she was going.

No matter how confused she was, though, Nina realized she had no choice, at least for now, but to cooperate. The horrific vision from the night before was still swimming in her mind. Had the people in charge of this place been responsible for that? It made her angry to think so.

Part of her kept expecting to suddenly wake up from this bizarre, stress-induced nightmare. As they walked, the woman explained that her brother had checked her in -- for her own good, of course. Nina's brow furrowed in confusion, and she almost protested that her brother was dying. She wondered if it were possible for Johan to really do something like this. But no -- she saw him hit the ground, and what was more, getting her sent to... a mental institution? Was that it? The nurse's words seem to be implying that was where she was now... didn't seem like the kind of thing he would do.

For one terrifying moment, Nina wondered if she really was going crazy. But no. The life she had known before felt too real, too vibrant in her mind, to be a hallucination. Unless this is the hallucination, she thought, trying to fight the heavy fog of confusion that was trying to settle over her mind. But why would she ever hallucinate something so strange, or as horrible as what she saw last night?

Once inside the Sun Room, she glanced around, although there was a dazed quality to her movements and a glassy look in her eyes. The confused fog had settled over her and refused to lift now. She ran over the nurse's words in her mind, trying to make any kind of sense of them, although trying to make them make sense made her head start to hurt. None of this made sense! None of it.

There was a bulletin board in the room she'd been guided to, at least, that caught her attention, and she started to go over it, curious. She had no idea what to expect to find there, but she looked anyway. To her surprise, it appeared that other people were leaving messages there. And they didn't seem to be people like the nurse, or the voice that came over the intercom last night, although without seeing who had left the messages, it was hard to understand the purpose or meaning behind some of them. But at least they seemed to be made by people like her, whatever she was here.

She scanned the messages left there, forcing herself to concentrate through her own dazed funk, before two in particular caught her attention. There was one that sounded like Murphy, and it made her smile. If it really was him, then he must have been okay after all. One was even more interesting. It mentioned a name -- "Inspector Lunge" -- that made Nina's eyes go wide and her heart nearly stop beating.

She knew that name. He was the detective who had pursued Tenma for so long, wasn't he? Yes, that was it. He was investigating the middle-aged couple murders. Nina had never met the inspector personally, but she knew enough about the middle-aged couple murders -- that was to say, everything there was to know -- to know who he was. And someone here knew him? But he was gone now? Why? What had happened to him? She wrote back quickly, hoping that whoever had written the note would respond.

They did, surely enough. Again, Nina wrote back. The next time she saw a response, they wanted something that gave her pause: to talk to her. There was no telling who she could trust here. Should she agree to that? But then, it wasn't really an unreasonable thing to ask. Besides, Lunge was supposed to be a very brilliant detective. He wasn't the kind to become close to an untrustworthy person. And Nina wanted the same thing the mysterious person she was writing to do. More information, about Lunge and about this place.

Maybe they could trade one for the other.

That was it, then. They would talk. Nina would periodically go back to the board, to see if anyone responded, but so far, the person didn't. She sighed heavily, and took a seat in a chair. How long would she have to wait for a response?

Not long, apparently, even if it didn't come in the form she was expecting. A voice made her jump. The man who approached her and startled her with his sudden question looked like he was close to her age, with shaggy dark hair, and dark circles under his eyes. Nina couldn't help glancing at the sling he was wearing, too, and wondering how he'd been injured. What on earth was wrong with this place?

Her posture was in direct contrast with his. She sat up straight in her chair, back rigid, legs pressed firmly together in front of her, as he poured himself into the sofa, legs sprawled out in front of him.

"That's right," she answered. She wondered, but didn't ask, how he knew it was her. "You were a friend of his, right?"

[ryuuzaki]

"A friend...." He trailed off, then answered with a nod. "Yes, I suppose so."

It was hard to determine whether or not this was accurate, but Lunge had been closer to a friend than the previous person he'd applied the term to.

That investigation seemed far away now, less relevant than ever... yet if he managed to survive the Institute and return home, it would be waiting for him there, regardless of the condition he was in when he got back. Then again, there were several respects in which a stay in a real hospital might be good for him. He didn't need an excuse to leave the premises of the headquarters and go into hiding, but if he wanted a good one, that would be it.

Pushing his slippers off and leaving them on the floor, he folded his knees up close to his chest and let the corner of the sofa support him. He knew that he looked as tired as he sounded. The kind of night most of them had had could account for that, and if it wasn't enough, the medication usually prescribed for an injury like his would cover the rest. It cast a pleasant, numb haze over everything.

"You said you only knew of him. Did he know of you, Miss...?" He would be watching her face, the amount of speed and calculation in her gestures, the little signals that might give him insight into her state of mind. It would be vital to allow for a certain amount of uncertainty and trauma in a new arrival, but even so, he thought he would be able to tell if she lied to him. His headache would probably confirm it.

The real point, however... would he have trusted you?