damned_institute | Day 64: Waiting Room/Lobby 2 (Fourth Shift)

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Day 64: Waiting Room/Lobby 2 (Fourth Shift)

The time spent with Izaya hadn't led to much, but that might have also been due to the fact that Castiel wasn't functioning at full energy. If he'd been sharper, if he hadn't had his body holding him back every step of the way, maybe he would have worked harder to try and get some information out of the other patient.

As it was, Castiel had spent most of the day dealing with aches and pains on random parts of his body. None of it seemed to follow any pattern, and the rash on his hand was still there, making itself obvious to the rest of the patient body. He was, to be frank, exhausted -- and while part of him wished to fight against that because angels weren't supposed to get tired, the other part felt this urge to lie down.

He remembered how Dean had explained to him that he needed a certain amount of sleep each night. He also remembered how it had annoyed him at the time, how he had seen it as a waste. He would have apologized to Dean for his ignorance now, if he could have.

While the idea had been to spend the last shift in the Sun Room so he could at least lay down and rest, the nurses had another plan for him. He was told instead that there were some visitors who had come to see them, and before he knew it he'd been placed in some sort of waiting room. Castiel remembered looking into this room once before, though it had been night at the time. Now he knew what its purpose was.

He stood there awkwardly for a few moments before his nurse urged him to take a seat. Castiel found a chair and settled himself onto it, but he couldn't relax. He placed a hand against his injured shoulder, prodding at it for a moment. Who would possibly want to come visit him? There were a few options, but he didn't want to jump to any conclusions.

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Loki was actually rather disappointed that Thor didn't fight back. He always had in the past, too obsessed with his own pride and ego. Then again, on the Bifrost he hadn't fought back either, not until he'd been goaded sufficiently. It was annoying. As if Thor wasn't already the golden son, he had to insist on reaching some new level of noble righteousness, as if to shame Loki further.

He stared at Thor, hoping this was some sort of trick, but his brother had never been the sort to do that. "I'm right...?" he repeated, sounding almost lost. How could Thor agree with him, just like that? Unnoticed, a single tear - produced in anger - slipped down his cheek.

Only that sort of admission changed nothing. He was still Loki, despised of Odin's sons, he was still a monster wearing a false skin, he was still a King who had been deprived of his throne for the crime of trying to see to the safety of the realm and his father.

And then Thor had to go and be all noble about it. It wasn't fair, not at all.

That wasn't the sort of reaction Chuck had expected, as Lawrence had never been the crying type. He'd always bottled things up and then let it boil over, and while that sometimes led to tears, he was often too proud for that. If he cried, he did it where no one else could see.

For that reason alone, Chuck was affected by the sight, and he reached forward to put a hand on his brother's shoulder yet again. He didn't care how many times he was pushed away -- he would keep trying, because a sibling wasn't something you could just give up on.

"If you've been living with this kind of pain, you should have said something earlier. Now look what it's come to." His tone was gentle, though. He wasn't blaming Lawrence so much as lightly chiding him, because if they'd taken the time to fix this earlier it wouldn't have ended up with one of them in a mental institute.

Chuck didn't want to see this as a lost cause, though. Things were obviously even worse than he'd realized, but the more of it he could understand, the better the chance that it could be worked out somehow.

Loki stared at the man's hand, then turned his gaze back to Thor. "None of you ever listened! It was always be a man, be more like your brother, why aren't you more like your brother." The utter bitterness with which he said those words almost hurt his mouth.

He shook his head. "No. I am done with that. I know the truth of the matter now, and I shan't be turning back." His eyes narrowed. "You never cared about what pain I might have felt before."

It didn't look like he was going to be able to get through to Lawrence so easily, and Chuck wondered if getting into an argument like this was really going to do his brother much good when he was in such a state. But it wasn't like he could just back down, either -- he had to try and get through to him somehow.

"... Maybe some people said that, but I think if you were more like me, that would just be boring." He shrugged, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. But really, why would he want his brother to be a carbon copy of him? That wouldn't be interesting at all. Lawrence had always made his own path, and it was one of the things Chuck admired about him.

"I never knew that extent of that pain until now, Lawrence," he insisted. "You always bottled it up."

Loki's anger faltered, slightly, at that. He couldn't imagine Thor actually saying those words, wishing for Loki to be himself rather than more like a true warrior of Asgard. A look of confusion crossed his face.

"You never asked," he said, almost low enough to be a whisper.

Maybe that was true. Maybe Chuck had been too busy with his own life to really consider what his brother might have been going through. But he didn't think it was fair to expect him to be a mind-reader, either.

He let out a sigh and shrugged his shoulders. "Maybe not. But... you don't want to waste away here for the rest of your life, do you? So how do we fix this?" He couldn't accept the idea that his brother would rather remain in this place than come home and get better.

Loki laughed humorlessly. "You act as if it's my choice to be here. I'm a prisoner." As surely as he would have been at home, though perhaps even more annoying since he had to deal with the nurses and their idiotic fabrications.

He laughed again, a short bark. "And when did there become a we? Talking to your shadow now? That seems terribly unhealthy."

"Don't," Chuck said, when Lawrence made that jab. His brother had always been good at that, at hitting right where it hurt and then digging the knife in. Chuck tried to collect himself again, as he shouldn't be arguing with Lawrence now of all times, but they were brothers. And some habits died hard.

"You're a prisoner because they can't release you until you're well. Not when you're a danger to yourself," he said, trying to even out his tone. "I'm here because I need to know if I can help somehow." Chuck wanted to think there was something he could do, but right now it seemed like he was doing more harm than good.

Loki smiled. "Yes, I suppose you would believe that," he said. "It's always much nicer to believe someone's gone mad." The expression turned thinner, colder. "I am no broken toy to be fixed."

Though he still wondered at that, the fundamental flaw of who he was that had made him a tool to Odin, someone to simply be fed a constant diet of lies until he could be used.

Loki snarled at the thought. "I am who I am. No amount of lies nor bullying has changed that."

It actually wasn't easier for Chuck to think that his brother had lost his mind. That was what had hurt the most, realizing that someone who was supposed to be so close to him had been going insane and he hadn't even known. But he tried to pull his emotions in, hard as that was for him, and let Lawrence air everything out.

"You are who you are," he echoed. "That means that you're the sort of person who would take his own life? Say what you want, Lawrence, but no one who's completely healthy would try to jump off a bridge."

And maybe that was his fault. Maybe Chuck hadn't been attentive enough and this was all on him. But that was why he was here now, and Lawrence simply wasn't letting him help.

Loki went silent and still, his face gone pale to the point that it had an unhealthy greyish tinge to it. He gripped the back of the chair again, so hard that his arms shook.

"I had no other choice!" he suddenly shouted, like the words had been torn from him. He'd seen no other way out, seen nothing but more of the same or worse, punishment for the great good that he had tried to do. "Everything I had done, none of it mattered. You saw that. I had no other choice." He bowed his head, jaw working.

What other escape had he, from Thor, from Odin, from everything that had gone so terribly wrong, from all the lies that had been built around him?

When Lawrence started to raise his voice, Chuck couldn't stop himself from meeting the eyes of a nurse. They were making a scene now, and while he really didn't care what the other patients or their visitors thought, he didn't like the idea of their time being cut short because his brother was having an outburst. Why couldn't they have been put into some sort of private room instead?

"What do you mean, none of it mattered?" he shot back, his face darkening with a frown. "You were successful. How was what you did not good enough for you?"

Chuck couldn't wrap his mind around it. Maybe Lawrence hadn't been a good football player, but it wasn't like everyone was meant to be successful in the same ways. It was true that their parents had never been as supportive of Lawrence as they should have been, but Chuck had always hoped that his brother would learn to live for himself rather than another's approval.

"Successful?" Loki asked incredulously. "Hardly. You saw to that. And Father..."

He hung his head, shoulders shaking. "And yet you still taunt me. Leave. I tired of it. There is no turning back."

Nothing, he knew, could erase the look on Odin's face, the knowledge that everything had fallen to pieces, that he could never return to what he had been. Though it was still so confusing, knowing that everything he had been was a lie, fed to him by the same man whose approval he still incongruously wanted.

Though of course such a thing was doubly impossible, because Loki would never be anything like Thor. Loki pressed one hand against his forehead.

At this point, Chuck had completely lost track of what his brother was trying to argue. How had he ever hampered his success? He'd only ever wanted the best for Lawrence, and yet somehow the man had never been happy despite that.

"I'm not taunting you," he said with a frown. "Why would you assume that? Do you really think I would have come all this way to taunt you?" Chuck moved forward and placed his hands on either of Lawrence's shoulders.

"Please, I want to help you. Why won't you believe that?" Even if his brother was telling him to leave, Chuck was stubborn by nature, and he wasn't going to let this fall apart that easily.

For a moment Loki stared at Thor, eyes gone wide. His brother seemed so earnest - how was that even possible?

It wasn't of course. It was a trick. It was just one more lie, one more thing they wanted to feed him, use him, make him into a tool. Thor was part of that, always, made greater by having Loki in his shadow. "Such sentiment," he whispered.

The proximity was too much, too much temptation and too much of a mockery.

Loki bowed his head, one hand subtly slipping into his pocket, finding his pen and pushing the cap off with his thumb. In a lightning fast motion, he pulled the pen from his pocket and jammed it into his brother's side, hard enough to punch through clothing and into flesh.

"I'll not be fooled by you again," he hissed. "Not by your and not by your father! I will no longer stand in your shadow and I won't be bullied!"

Edited 2012-06-23 23:45 (UTC)

When Lawrence whispered something, Chuck frowned, not having caught his words completely. He tried to pull forward, so that he could ask his brother to repeat himself, but that was when the unexpected happened.

Something sharp and thin jabbed through his shirt and then into his torso, causing pain to explode from the impact point. Instinct forced Chuck to jerk away and he ended up stumbling into the seat he'd been occupying earlier. Completely overwhelmed, he stared down at his shirt, which was quickly staining red with blood, and then looked up at Lawrence. Confusion and betrayal shone in his eyes.

"What--"

The nurses didn't take long to respond, rushing over with sedatives so that they could contain the rowdy patient. Chuck watched them with a detached stare, swallowing around the fear and disappointment in his throat as he realized just how far his brother had fallen. He wanted to say something -- about how he was fine, about how they didn't need to punish him -- but he couldn't form the words.

It didn't really feel like triumph. Loki stared at Thor, at the blood staining his shirt, eyes gone wide. Thor really ought to be attacking him just now, he thought. And it was likely a fight he'd lose, but it would be uncomplicated, less enraging and difficult than this apparent lie of sympathy.

It had to be a lie, right? It made no sense otherwise.

Loki should have expected what happened next, but he wasn't in the most rational of places. The orderlies grabbed him, and he did struggle at first, glaring at Thor the entire time as he shouted, "Unhand me!"

Then he realized that he still had his game to play here, one that he had probably damaged very badly by letting Thor upset him so much. He blamed his brother for that as well. Loki stopped struggling even before the needle with its load of sedatives slid home.

Then things went a bit funny, and it was difficult to be angry while in that state.

It all happened so fast that Chuck was barely able to react, not to mention being distracted by his own wound. He'd gotten worse injuries while playing football, but the blood and the knowledge that it was his own brother who had hurt him like this was making him feel dizzy.

Lawrence's yelling echoed through his head as Chuck watched him get pulled away, saw his eyes cloud over as the sedative took hold.

A nurse came up once the room had been cleared to offer him assistance. Chuck wanted to yell at her and demand to know why they hadn't been able to fix his brother, but he knew that would get him nowhere. Hand pressed tight against the wound, he stood from his chair and went to get treated.

He would just have to come back another time. He wasn't giving up that easily, no matter what Lawrence said.

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Day 64: Waiting Room/Lobby 2 (Fourth Shift)

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