Night 69: Mail Room

[ever_loyal_dog]

[from here]

Soushi was somewhat surprised when the door opened easily and though it was hard to tell if they had wound up in the room they ought to have and not some strange portal through time and space, it did look normal enough. There was the same bland carpet and a few shelves, though not much of note. It seemed like some sort of inter-office mail system and as his eyes fell on the letters that dotted the shelves, he couldn't but be reminded of the letters he'd shared with his own master. It didn't seem to be the room they were looking for, but it still held promise.

"I'm not certain if this is the room, but would you mind terribly if we had a look around?" he asked as he turned toward Castiel.

Comments

[freewill]

When the first door opened without complaint, Castiel assumed that it was the wrong room. It shouldn't have been that simple, but he walked in after Soushi nonetheless, taking a look around while using his flashlight to brighten up the darker corners. It didn't take him long to identify it as some sort of mail center, where letters would supposedly be delivered to patients.

He'd seen patients receive mail before, though he'd never gotten a letter himself. That was no real surprise. Even if there was some imagined life for him out there, he found it hard to believe that anyone would bother to write him.

Soushi seemed to think that there might be something for him here, though, and so Castiel shook his head in reply to his question. Perhaps Soushi was thinking of that master he'd mentioned before, the one he supposedly served so loyally. "Go ahead."

[ever_loyal_dog]

He did what he could to make sure the room was clear before he walked toward the far wall where the letters were being sorted. His eyes had adjusted somewhat to the dim lighting, enough so that he could at least tell that the letter seemed to be addressed to a patient. Though how long it had been there or whether it would ever reach the recipient was another matter entirely.

"Thank you."

Soushi skimmed a few more letters before he understood the layout of the mail slots, but when he reached the box that ought to have held mail for his assigned room, it was, unfortunately, empty. Pitiful, he supposed, that he should even trust to hope that there might be something of her here. His fingers traced the dusty box for a moment before his eyes fell on the unsorted letters. If mail could be received, could he get a letter out as well? But if patients couldn't leave the grounds without finding themselves here again the next morning, how would a letter get any further?

Perhaps it was naive to think so, but Soushi resolved to drop a letter here come the next nightfall. If letters were being received, surely they were getting out somehow too, he reasoned.

"Have you received any letters during your time here Castiel-san?" he asked.

[freewill]

As Soushi searched through the mail off to the side of the room, Castiel started to look for the mail slot that belonged to him -- or rather, to Michael Collins. He already knew there would be nothing there, but checking would be a better usage of his time than standing around waiting for Soushi to finish what he was doing.

Castiel hadn't completely forgotten, either. Those fake memories that had been implanted in him that one day were fuzzy by now, having faded more and more out of his mind over time. But he still remembered how Anna and Gabriel had been true siblings to him in this fake life, even if their names had been changed. (To what? He couldn't remember.)

Still, as expected, the slot labeled "Collins, Michael" was completely empty, and that seemed to be the case for Soushi as well. This room was likely just for show, something to give the more optimistic patients a sliver of hope, only to wrench it away from them again just as quickly.

"I haven't," he said in response to Soushi's question, turning to him with a small shrug. "I have seen other patients receive mail, though it's usually handed out by the nurses during the day." And that was only on the days when those visitors came in, as far as he knew. Castiel recalled Dean and Sam's visit to him and clenched his hand into a fist. Reclaiming them was still high up on his list of things to do.

[ever_loyal_dog]

Other patients received mail? At least it wasn't a completely wild and crazy idea then. Maybe he could reach Ririchiyo that way. It seemed fitting, somehow.

"I see. I wonder then, why their loved ones wouldn't come here to help them, if they know they are here. Instead of just writing the letters," he started back toward the door. There were other places to try to find tonight. If he spent any more of his time dwelling on letters, he might never find any clues as to how to reach his master again.

He supposed the letters could be faked. But he would know in an instant if the penmanship was Ririchiyo's or not. Maybe the letters came typed instead? Something just didn't add up.

[freewill]

"They do come, sometimes," Castiel said by way of clarification. He was surprised to find that no one had told Soushi about the visitor day yet, especially as it was coming up in a couple of days if he was counting correctly. He'd become slightly disoriented after he'd spent that one day asleep, but either way, he knew it was coming up soon.

"Every Sunday is a visitor day, where so-called loved ones will arrive and meet with certain patients. They're brainwashed to believe the lies that the nurses and doctors spread here, however, so it wouldn't be the sort of reunion you'd expect." His conversation with Sam and Dean had been awkward and stilted for a number of reasons, and it wasn't something he wished to repeat.

Since it appeared that Soushi was done with this room, it was about time to move on. They didn't want to run out of time in the night before they reached Soushi's intended destination, and so Castiel slowly limped back out into the hallway.

[To here.]