damned_institute | Day 64: Waiting Room/Lobby 1 (Third Shift)

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Day 64: Waiting Room/Lobby 1 (Third Shift)

The idea that a friend from home would be coming to visit him today was something that had never crossed Zero's mind before now. For one thing, everyone he knew was definitely in another world as far as he was concerned, and he'd long since accepted that he'd probably never see his home or his friends again. (Or at least, not for awhile.) A familiar face suddenly showing up out of the blue was highly unlikely, if not downright impossible, to him. For another, he'd never heard of this 'visitor time' before to begin with, so how could he expect it to happen? No prisoner had ever told him that sometimes recognizable people might show up at the Institute on a certain day of the week to completely shatter one's understanding of this place and the way it worked.

(...Although. Knowing how Landel loved to screw with people's heads, it probably wasn't such a shocking idea. But still.)

So when the time to change shifts came and Zero was suddenly taken away from the other patients by his nurse, being led to a room he'd never been in before while being told in that damned cheery voice that Someone's coming to see you today! Aren't you excited?, the once-Reploid felt tense and confused by the whole thing. And understandably so. Who in the world could be coming to visit him? Why in the world would someone be visiting him? And how, if this really turned out to be someone he knew?

Moreover, would Landel really allow someone from his home world to just waltz right into this place without holding them hostage, too? That seemed kind of strange for a guy who got a laugh out of torturing people on a daily basis. Then again, said familiar face was probably brainwashed like everyone else. No harm done in that case...

...Well. Whoever it was that was supposed to be meeting him (brainwashed or not), they weren't present when Zero arrived at the designated waiting room. His nurse wasn't fazed by this, though, and she gave her patient an encouraging nudge toward some chairs. "They'll be here shortly," she said, as if trying to reassure him. (Was she seriously expecting him to be thrilled about this?) "Why don't you take a seat while you wait, Mr. Suzuki?"

Zero stood perfectly still and frowned at her. "No."

"Oh, this is not the time for one of your moods. Please sit down."

"I refuse."

"Mr. Suzuki--!"

He was defiant. There was no way he was going to sit while feeling so uneasy, especially if his nurse was going to complain about it. Why should he give this obnoxious woman any breaks, anyway? If he didn't stick up for himself like a stubborn old man, then she wouldn't stop bothering him. And the less she bothered him, the better.

Thankfully, she wasn't in the mood to press him about this. She opened her mouth as if to go off on another one of her scolding sprees, but then decided against it and shook her head. "Suit yourself," she sighed, then turned and walked out of the room, leaving him alone. (Finally.) Now he could wait anxiously in peace, without that bothersome woman pestering him every second. He moved off to one side of the room but stayed standing, subconsciously clenching his fists out of habit, watching other people (prisoners, nurses, outsiders) enter the room. No one he recognized yet.

He kind of hoped no one would show for him.

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In the thirty days he'd spent in Landel's Institute, the Doctor had always heard visitors announced on Sundays. But in the thirty days he'd spent in Landel's Institute, he'd never once been pulled aside and taken to meet with one.

Until now.

The nurse had found him right after brunch, informing him cheerily that someone had come by to see him—though she wouldn't say whom it was ("It's a surprise!"). She led him out of the Sun Room, turning to the right and taking him into one of the two rooms that flanked the reception.

"Take a seat, Mr. Smith," she said, still beaming at him. "Your visitor will be along shortly!"

The Doctor gave her a little wave before she turned to go, but he didn't take a seat—not yet. Instead, he started wandering along the edge of the room, trying to work out who might have come to see him—who might have known to come and see him. There was something distinctly not right about the situation; it all felt off somehow. He'd heard of visitors, sure—he'd read the letter that Donna had received—but that was still... Well...

He came to a stop, folding his arms as he glanced towards the door to see if anyone new had come in yet. There were a few people in the room aside from the staff, but none that he recognized. But maybe that was that the point?

Michael had been rather hoping that he could Mr. Smith around the same time that Tyler was visiting his friend. While neither of them would actually be close to each other - nor would that be a particularly good idea, since they were here to see other people instead of spending time together, as enjoyable as that may be - it would have at least been nice to know that, when the situation started to get particularly stressful, he could simply look up and see Tyler somewhere else in the room and take some strength from that.

But instead all he had was the memory of tightly gripping the other boy's hand as they'd walked back through the doors of the institute together, remembering all the notions that they'd both believed to be so utterly true during the time they'd been here. It was more than a little illogical, Michael knew, but a part of him couldn't help but be faintly concerned that he might have some sort of a relapse being here. But the doctors had told him that facing this had to happen eventually, and, well, Tyler had a point that visiting friends was probably a better way to handle it than anything else.

So with that in mind, he nodded and smiled at the nurses who greeted him, keeping his eyes open until he spotted the face of the man he'd actually come to see.

"Mr. Smith? ...John? I know it's been some time since we last spoke, but you do remember me, don't you?"

He'd stopped looking at the door long enough that someone had, it turned out, come through it and approached him. A smile lit up the Doctor's face at the sight of Brainiac 5 and he forgot—just for a moment—that he was supposed to be getting a visitor, that Brainiac 5 probably was the visitor.

"I would never forget you," he said, beaming at the boy. He looked... he looked alright. He'd hoped for the best when Peter had said that Brainic 5 was gone, but that hadn't quite stopped him from fearing the worst since. But here he was, looking well—or as well as he could, given that his body was obviously still human instead of Coluan. He'd have to tell Peter.

It was then that the Doctor was suddenly reminded of where they were, and his smile wavered. This wasn't the cafeteria, or the sun room, or any of the rooms that he and Brainiac 5 had usually met. He couldn't tell Peter that Brainiac 5 was here, because Peter was gone. He'd been told to expect a visitor, and now Brainaic 5 was before him.

Something in the Doctor's stomach sunk. He pointedly ignored it, gesturing towards a pair of nearby chairs to invite the boy to take a seat.

"How've you been?" he asked cautiously. "Where have you been?"

Michael relaxed as John directed them towards a pair of chairs without making any of the comments or asking questions that he'd honestly been expecting. So many of the people here had been convinced that visitors like himself had been brainwashed or whatever horrible thoughts their delusions turned to, he'd prepared himself for the chance of something similar happening here.

Admittedly John had said he could never forget him, but Michael was optimistic that he could potentially recognise that the boy he'd known had been flaw-- ill. (Not flawed, he wasn't a machine, never had been, and he was much better at remembering that now.)

Settling down into the chair, he smiled at the older man, his friend, and did his best to relax and enjoy himself as he might have before. "My recovery has been enough that I was allowed to return, John. Admittedly I've still some way to go and these things take time, but the delusions that brought me here are behind me now."

His cheeks coloured faintly with genuine pleasure as he continued. "Grandfather has even agreed to seeing a psychologist with me, and we're both working towards a mutually beneficial arrangement in which we're both happy.

"I've been keeping contact with Tyler as well, in fact," he added with a shy smile. "What about you, John? How have you been?"

That feeling in the pit of his stomach was growing worse, and his smile faded with every word that Brainiac 5 said. He looked happy about the things he was saying, but it was wrong—off—all of it. And being addressed as 'John' just drove the meaning behind the boy's words home. He wouldn't have minded, if it weren't for the fact that Brainiac 5 knew that it wasn't his name.

The boy in front of him wasn't quite Brainiac 5 any longer. (And who was Tyler?)

The Doctor swallowed, and there was a definitely moment of hesitation before he forced a smile back on his face. "Well... I'm alright—getting along; you know me," he answered. He was coping—he was good at coping, but it was never easy. Brainiac 5 didn't need to know that, but there was one bit he was willing to admit. "I've missed talking to you, though; I don't know that there's anyone else around here who'd be able to keep up." Well... Maybe the mathematician who'd been leaving posts on the bulletin, but even that was a long shot.

He reached up, starting to rub the back of his neck. There was also one thing he could add, one thing that he could really use to test how much of Brainiac 5 remained. "Speaking of which, I never quite managed to get you those schematics for the screwdriver. I've been carrying them around in my journal, so if you'd still like them...?"

Michael suppressed a sigh as John hesitated for that brief moment before smiling again. He might not be a disturbed teenager who believed erroneously that he was a super-intelligent robot from the future, but he was still very smart for his age. He noticed things like that, even if he wasn't exceptionally good at body language. That was probably why he had difficulty hiding his own reactions to the idea that John didn't believe him or something of the sort (what had he thought when visited by his own great grandfather, again?), casting a sympathetic, if frustrated, glace at the older man.

But it softened into surprise at John's words, and Michael had to wonder if he'd misread the situation entirely. Again.

"I've missed talking to you as well," he confessed. "It was nice, having someone I could talk to on a level that suited me, even if it wasn't about real situations, but who didn't treat me as though I was strange or like a child. People like you and Tyler, you helped me get to where I am now. I wouldn't be this person without you, John."

He smiled then, a gentle, genuine one that felt new and free somehow. "Thank you. For everything."

There, he'd said the one thing he'd really wanted to when he'd come here to see John again and it hadn't been as bad as the images his mind had conjured up. Michael was still reminding himself of this when John spoke up again, mentioning the... screwdriver...?

"Oh, you mean the toy you were always talking about?" he asked, surprised. It made sense when he thought about it; John, still caught up in the illusions his mind created, wouldn't think of it as a toy at all. "It was just a light and noise effects, wasn't it?"

To understand the horrors of war...

Such a thing was never expected of a nurse, even those whose duty it was to patch up the wounded, to watch over those who had been in pain and were sent within hospital doors. After all, she wasn't in the military; she wasn't able to stand on the sidelines of the battlefield, nor was she expected to go through basic training or hold a gun. Though stories had been told through movies and novels and other things, they never quite showed the true extent of what it could entail.

Not to the man, nor to those who had to watch them.

Though there was something in Mr. Suzuki's eyes that, if she looked hard enough into them, probably gave her some sort of clue.

...What was she doing here?

She shuffled on the balls of her feet, adjusting the strap of her purse several times, even though she knew nothing she did would make it comfortable.

Ever since that day...he still made her feel apprehensive and uneasy. That protectiveness that, for all she knew, had no warrant; the fact that he attacked Dr. Weyl without any sort of provocation...

He frightened her.

And yet, here she was, staring at the door as though it was going to eat her, heart thumping a mile a minute.

Come on. She chastised herself. You wanted to see him; see how he was doing. Maybe...even help him feel better. He might have been such a nice person before...before this. It would be wrong to come all this way and turn back now.

With a loud swallow, Nurse Celia Giroux opened the door, slowly stepping into the room.

Edited 2012-06-15 18:09 (UTC)

It couldn't have been more than a few minutes of waiting, but it felt like hours to Zero. There weren't many people coming into the room, and not one of those few people were recognizable to him at all. Had his nurse made a mistake? Or was he not supposed to be looking for someone he actually knew? ...Better yet, why had he agreed to do this at all? So far, all this 'visiting time' was proving to be was a waste of time. No one was showing up for him, so why was he still here?

Just as he was considering trying to sneak out, however, someone new walked into the room. He almost overlooked her at first, but realization was quick to hit him. His eyes shot back to the young woman; he stared hard at her for a few seconds.

And all of his thoughts died in an instant.

...It couldn't be. A sickening feeling filled his body, and his brain struggled to deny what his eyes were telling him. The level of shock that had hit him at that moment was immense, though his face hardly expressed it.

It couldn't be.

But her face...! There was no way he could ever mistake that face... But why? Why was she here?! Was this a trick? A low blow on the part of his captors? Was she even real? If she was, was she...was she also a prisoner? Please don't be...

Overwhelmed, the once-Reploid found himself approaching the woman without realizing it, stopping only a few feet away from her as he fought to overcome his shock. "...Ciel?"

Was it...really her?

"Celia."

It was an immediate reaction, perhaps borne of long-overdone habit; how many times had he called her by the wrong name, that strange look in his eyes and that...protectiveness he exerted clear in every pore? The word just spilled from her lips, even when she mentally kicked herself for being so immediate, so curt.

That was no way to greet someone, even if her insides were churning and her mind was whirling with what to say next.

Why does he always call me by that name? She wondered. Was that the name of a lover of his at some point? Maybe that's why he's so protective of me; I remind him of someone, and because of...what's wrong with him, he can't tell the difference.

Maybe...maybe that was it.

But even so, what did she say? What could she say?

Why was she here?

"I'm Celia Giroux."

Shuffling her feet and adjusting her purse, she made a warm, gentle mockery of a smile.

It was all she could do.

"I...I looked after you at the hospital, Mr. Suzuki. Do you remember?"

Edited 2012-06-15 19:15 (UTC)

.... What?

That voice...it was unmistakeably Ciel's. The way she spoke was just like Ciel, too. Everything was just like Ciel. Based on physical details, there was no way this woman could be anyone but Ciel.

But if that were true, if she were really Ciel, then why was she calling him Mr. Suzuki? Why was she referring to herself by the same name that was used in that letter from a few days ago, the one that had been undeniably written in Ciel's handwriting? Why was she regurgitating the same story that the Institute spoon-fed him day by day?

There were several ideas Zero could come up with to explain this situation, but none of them were stories he wanted to hear.

He shifted his weight uncomfortably, an uneasy feeling gnawing at his insides. Of course. Of course there had to be some sort of catch. Why else would Landel let someone he cared about so much just walk in here untouched? That would be too kind of a slave-driver like him...

The initial shock was starting to fade now; a need to know was quickly replacing it. When he spoke again, Zero's voice was a little stronger than before, his tone a mixture of bewilderment and concern. "Ciel...what are you talking about?"

There was that name again.

Ciel, Ciel. Who was this 'Ciel', and why did he keep thinking it was her? It wasn't her, there was no way it could be her. But still he'd give her that look and talk like that, and...

Stop it! she wanted to scream. Stop calling me that! She's not me! Stop mistaking me for someone else!

Why wouldn't he see she wasn't who he thought she was? Why was he so concerned, and why was it that no matter how much he frightened her, she still couldn't leave him alone? Was it the protectiveness? The concern that tinged his voice?

She didn't know.

With a small swallow, she played with her high ponytail again. She didn't understand why she still wore it that way; maybe it was one of those little things she always did in youth, and it sort of just carried over. It was convenient, and it wasn't as though Celia was looking for any particular man to impress.

"I told you." She tried her best to smile, though even she knew that it had to be as pristine as a hairline fracture through plate glass. "I guess you don't remember. The doctors did say that you were having trouble with your memory."

'Doctors'. As much as people who enjoyed toying around with the mentally ill could be considered, she supposed.

"I was a nurse at the hospital you stayed at before you came here. I...I even sent you a letter. Did you get it?"

Oh, Zero remembered the letter, alright. But the rest? As far as he was concerned, it was all a part of the Institute's poorly-crafted lie, and nothing more.

Except for...his memory, in a way. Admittedly, yes, it was a trouble somewhat. Even though he'd been re-activated and running for a few years now, there were still gaping holes, blank spaces that he couldn't fill in despite his best efforts. But he was certain, despite his incomplete memory, that he was Zero. He was Zero, and his memories of his home world were real. This place could say all it liked, but it would never convince him - even by using his memory as a reason - that he was someone else.

So why...why did Ciel believe it? Did Landel do something to her mind, as unwanted as the thought was...? Or was she even Ciel? Perhaps she was a clone? ...No, that didn't seem likely. If she were a Reploid, he could believe that, but...

... If only he knew...this would be so much easier to take if he just knew.

"Yeah," Zero answered softly after a small pause, and then he paused again, thinking. He...he needed to find something. Something that would prove for certain whether this was really Ciel or not. Something he could ask, or many things. Maybe her story would slip somewhere. Maybe he would discover something else through explanation. ...Or perhaps he was expecting too much.

But he had to try.

"...What hospital." The question almost came out as a desperate demand, as his need to know the truth was growing so strong. The uneasiness in his gut was growing stronger, too. "Where...where did you come from."

Celia stepped back.

Just

one

step.

She should have felt relieved; perhaps happy at the thought of his asking questions. This was progress, right? He was starting to try to look at something beyond the fantasies, beyond the images that he had conjured up in his mind. Maybe he was trying to see Yuudai Suzuki, the man, rather than...whoever he had thought he had become.

Maybe he was trying to make sense of his muddled memory, and really try to see her through the delusion he'd conjured up for himself.

And perhaps she did, a little.

But with that tone, that cadence, it was hard for her not to remember where she was and who she was talking to:

She was in an insane asylum, speaking with a man who had attacked a man who saw him as his own son without provocation. He...

No. That might not even have been him; that could have just been his...his illness getting to him. You came to speak to him and you're going to do it.

And he got the letter. He remembered the letter.

"...Allegheny General Hospital." she murmured. "Allegheny County, Pennsylvania."

More. She needed to tell him more.

"You were unconscious there for about a year. I-It was a miracle you'd woken up, really. Someone must have really been watching over you that day."

Edited 2012-06-17 18:40 (UTC)

Allegheny County, Pennsylvania. Where was that? Only the last word had a hint of familiarity to it, and only for the possibility that it might have been something he'd heard of in the past. Not a place he'd visited personally, just a place that had existed. But as there was nothing but Neo Arcadia in the present (or, the present day in his world), it was hard to say whether that hunch was true or not...

...Still. Whether 'Pennsylvania' was a real place or not, it didn't change the fact that Zero had never been checked into a hospital there. For an entire year, much less.

"You're wrong," the once-Reploid said firmly, subconsciously taking a step forward to make up for Ciel's own step back. "I was never there. Don't you remember anything, Ciel? I..."

He stopped short. It was about that time that he finally noticed Ciel's expression, her hesitation. The way she'd just stepped away from him...

...No. This wasn't the way to do this. To Ciel, of all people...even an image of her... Zero's willingness to continue being harsh faded quickly, along with his sharp stare. If this was really her, then this couldn't be her fault. He refused to believe that she'd lie to him without good reason. There had to be something else...

A slow sigh escaped Zero's lips, and he briefly closed his eyes. "...What else happened."

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Day 64: Waiting Room/Lobby 1 (Third Shift)

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