damned_institute | Nightshift 33: Disciplinary Therapy Room 1 [M-U for Homura]

He couldn't remember falling asleep, or even the sharp pang of a needle that would have sent him into slumber. But Homura recognized the signs of waking, the dull haze that covered his eyes for a moment, the slowly recovering awareness. And then the things that were abnormal, and so much worse: the uncomfortable feeling of straps on his limbs, his head. The position that left him vulnerable and helpless.

And a silky voice that in his half-awake state he might have mistaken for hers, if he'd not had the sense of a warrior.

"That isn't my name." The words were slow to form in his mind, but he spoke them strongly. Or so Homura at least believed. He tried to will himself to wake more, to move from that awful pose, but it was impossible.

For now, all he could hope to do was endure. He knew what these trials were made of, but refused to show fear for the one designed for him.

"What are you planning on doing to me?"

She smiled again, leaning down so that her lips brushed against his ear, and whispered, "I know."

He was such a defiant thing. Most struggled, some demanded answers, and yet here he was, calm and collected as ever. He was a seasoned warrior, a war god even and a few straps and an uncomfortable position weren't going to frighten him. Not much would, she suspected. At least, not until she started. She moved away from his ear, leaving behind the scent of wildflowers, and relaxed on the table.

"Toushin Taishi, isn't it? Or would you prefer we keep this relationship a little more personal and go with Homura?" Reaching over, she traced a line down his spine with her forefinger, smirking. "And I could tell you, but that would take all the fun out of it. You aren't in any place to make demands anyway. Really, you aren't even Toushin Taishi anymore. He died when you did, in that pretty little world of yours."

Slipping her hand off his back, she reached out and drew a rolling tray closer. The wheels bumped along the ground, causing the instruments to jump and clang on the metal surface. "We're going to get to know each other so well before the night is over, Homura. Isn't that lovely?"

A nasty thought crept into Homura's mind just then, thinking that the way her lips, her touch made his skin want to crawl was deserved. Certainly he'd made others feel that way, maybe countless times. But he'd known already how that brand of disgust felt, ever since the day he was born it seemed. And more importantly, there was a vital difference between Homura and this woman.

Homura would stop. He savored the struggle, but the freedom of choice, of will was a vital tenant he refused to break. This woman, however, had no intention of that. Such a thing was already quite clear.

"I'm aware of that. I worked too hard to die that way to forget it." His greatest accomplishment, perhaps the only one of his life. He hadn't been able to save Rinrei, or to create a new world. But he had struggled, fought with all of his being to live as he choice, and that had made his death a peaceful one. Even satisfying--as much as death can be.

"Lovely." Homura repeated the word, but certainly not in agreement. He wanted to know her, certainly. He wanted to see her face, to memorize its every detail so that when he took his revenge, he would know exactly who to spend the longest time torturing. But for now, he could only wait, and force back the dread that took root with the clanging of those tools. "I am not the Toushin Taishi, no. But you shouldn't underestimate me if you value your life."

She picked up the disinfectant and carefully rubbed it over her hands as she listened to him. The sharp tang of iodine filled the air and she sighed. She hated this smell. It was why she went out of her way to wear floral perfumes and keep herself otherwise tidy. There was something unnecessarily cold about disinfectants, as if her hands weren't already clean and perfect. It put a wall between her and the patients, her beautiful patients. It was such a terrible gap between them, especially when the one under her knife was such a fine subject of study.

Snapping her gloves on, she picked up her first tool of the night and tapped it against his lower back. Nothing sharp of course, just a shaver, but it was indications of things to come. She'd just draw it out a little, enjoy this special time meant just for them. Selfish, but Homura would understand. Hadn't be gone and almost destroyed the world for his own desires?

"And you should know you're powerless here, Homura. Your fire magic, your godlike strength - all reduced to nothing." She ran the shaver up his back, leaving it off for the moment. They'd have time soon enough. "Our meeting is just once and once only. Shouldn't we enjoy it? You'd think you would understand the value of every little chance, seeing how you lost it so quickly with her."

Here, she leaned down, letting her braid drop down where he might be able to see it, if he were looking in the right direction. "I can make it painless for you, or we can do it the hard way. The choice is yours."

First it was the strange scent that filled the room, then the cold touch of metal against his skin. The woman would be wary of leaving it in contact with him for too long, but even so, Homura looked for that opportunity. He wouldn't need long to transfer the energy, to spark the flame and perhaps even set her ablaze.

He was particularly inspired by the braid he saw just then, and by her words. There existed nothing in this word or in Homura's that would anger him so quickly as making a mockery of her.

"I will have my chance with her again. After this place is nothing more than ash, and after you have paid for your actions tonight." Both what this woman had done and what she would do. For who she was dressing herself as. "Do you think I haven't endured torture before? You are no different from the rest that tried to break me. And like them, you will fail."

"Oh, Homura," she said, voice tinged with sadness as she moved away. "I'm not trying to break you at all."

It was a sad thing, to see such a beautiful creature wrapped up in harshness. He had barbs everywhere where once he could have had something entirely different. Softness? Gentleness? Innocence? Normalcy or something akin to it. If only he'd been treated well when he first arrived in the world, then perhaps he wouldn't have turned out this way.

"I'm here to make you better," she said, flipped the switch of the shaver. The little machine jumped to life, blades humming as they reached for something to feast upon. Soon enough, she assured them. "If you truly want a second chance, then it would behoove you to be more polite to me."

Setting the shaver to the back of his neck, she pushed the longer strands of hair out of the way. She could pin those up later, once she removed a bothersome patch at the base of his skull. From there, they could begin his road to recovery and reinvention.

So many human things made sounds similar to the one Homura heard just then, more than he was familiar with, and too many to be able to place this one. The answer came soon, however, when he felt an odd coolness on the back of his scalp, a foreign sensation on skin that was too sensitive now that it was exposed.

His mind was racing, trying to figure out why, and failing to grasp it. But what she was saying, that Homura could understand, and he could respond to almost without thinking.

"My second chance will come by my own hands." Homura tightened his jaw, knowing pain could come at any moment, but at the same time not wanting to betray his anticipation of it. "I don't need you or anyone else to give it to me. And I see no reason to be polite to someone who is poorly trying to copy my lover's appearance while she tortures me."

It was always a shame when she had to shave a patient in preparation for surgery. Some of them had the most beautiful hair and it seemed like such a waste. Homura fell into this category and she swiped a lock for her own collection. Another one beneath her knife, this time to be saved rather than left to become cannon fodder. He had no idea how lucky he was. No idea of the bright future waiting for him.

Which was why she was getting angry now.

"You put too much confidence in your abilities, Homura," she said, pleasantries giving way to disapproval. She'd gone through all this trouble to give him a glimpse of what he'd lost and he snubbed her for it? Fine. Pain it was then. Pain that she would release him from later, and then maybe he'd understand and appreciate how a politeness could go a long, long way. "And this is for your benefit. Or it would have been, if you'd been nice."

The troublesome hair was gone and she put the shaver down, pinning the rest of his hair back and out of the way. It wasn't like he'd be able to feel what was going on inside his head, but getting to it? Oh, he'd feel that. She'd make sure of it now. Taking an iodine wipe, she spread the icy disinfectant over the area and then carelessly threw the wipe over her shoulder to the ground. "But you'll be so very good once I'm done with you. Your second chance, Homura. You'd best not waste it because we'll be watching you. Your life, your decisions from now on, the choices you'll make."

She paused and reached over, pulling a scalpel off the tray so the metals slid against each other. "Funny, isn't it?" she said, chuckling a little to herself. "How little things like memory can change so much in a person."

So he'd struck a nerve somewhere in there. Perhaps it had only served to make things worse for him, but it was still a victory, a small one, in this moment when he was utterly helpless. Such a small one, however, and Homura had to fight very hard not to gasp from pure reflex when that cold liquid touched his skin.

She kept prattling on about second chances, how Homura should appreciate it, make use of it, treasure it. And in his wildest imagination, he likely couldn't have guessed what she had in mind.

Until she made that remark about memory.

He knew she wanted him to realize, wanted him to guess what was coming. The panic he felt in his chest, clenching his throat; his agony at knowing. What would they take from him? How much, how long? A second chance given by stealing who he was now, who he had fought so hard to become!

"If I don't have confidence in myself, no one will." Homura fought desperately to keep his voice even, free of the trembling that would give away the truth, and its effect on him. He couldn't let her have that. Even if he couldn't stop what was to come--and indeed that helplessness terrified him--he would steal away her perfect victory, just a piece, and focus on that.

Hopefully it would be enough.

Oh, but he'd gone and been a clever one, hadn't he? He'd figured out what she was about to do - not that it would help him any. A smile graced her lips and once again, she wished he could see it. He had a piece of the puzzle, without the box to guide him and here she was, dangling the answers right in front of his face. Her hair, the scent of flowers, all of it - and he wasn't looking.

"We'll see about that, won't we?" she purred, turning the scalpel over in her hands. "We'll definitely see..."

A towel was laid around his shoulders to catch what was about to fall and she grinned. This part was always the most beautiful. "Remember what I said about the pain, Homura - I gave you a choice. This is your doing."

Pressing the blade to the back of his head, she delighted at the sight of the skin resisting, bending like rubber before it finally split. The scalpel dug in, blood welling up around it, spilling over into the towel and dying everything a beautiful crimson. Like flowers in the summer or leaves in the fall. Artistic. She hummed as she worked, an old lullaby, and sliced through layers of skin until she reached her prize. Pulling the skin back, she cleaned the scalpel and readied the next part of the experiment. "How are you feeling there, darling?"

It didn't hurt at first, the blade sharp enough to do it's work cleanly. But only at first, for a moment that fled far too quickly, and Homura's eyes opened wide as the agony flooded his mind. But he would not react. He refused to react as she cut apart layer after layer of skin, cruelly digging in, pulling away. It was all pain, and she didn't have to see how it effected him.

How he clenched his jaw, fought the urge to scream as it seemed to go on without end. Homura balled his hands into fists without meaning to, but it was a minor consession, one he was largely unaware of.

He could endure this. He held on to that thought, knowing that it would end, that everything ended eventually. That he alone would age, that he alone would die.

She had stopped cutting, but Homura was slow to realize it. Slower still to hear her words, to be able to reply to them. Not an answer to her question, but words spoken in anger, hissed between still-clenched teeth. "You will suffer worse than I. Do not think this place can protect you forever."

He was being so strong. She liked it when they pretended it didn't hurt. It meant she got to try harder. She could see his hands ball into fists and smirked. Such good little warriors were always the most fun to break. Homura had the added fun of the patience of the gods. They could wait anything out, or almost anything, and it would be such delightful fun to see where his limits were.

Picking up the cutter, she ran her bloodied fingers lovingly down the handle, leaving streaks behind. He was angry. His anger was good. "I love it when they say that," she sighed contentedly. A click of a switch and the cutter jumped to life, the round blade releasing a high pitched whine as it whirred around. The hole didn't need to be big, just enough to let her poke about inside his brain. He'd feel fear and pain and a thousand other things tonight, especially with where she was headed. "Take a breath now. This is going to sound strange."

Leaning in, she touched the rotating blade to his skull, the bone screeching as the blade dug in. She had to remind herself that it only needed to be a small hole. Small. That was it.

Strange indeed, the odd pressure on the back of his head. Perhaps knowing, understanding exactly what was being done to him separated Homura from it somehow. Not enough to spare him the pain; no, nothing in that moment could have eased the agony that made him see flashes of white white, made his stomach churn with waves of nausea. But enough, just enough for a single moment of clarity.

She's cutting into my skull. She's going to open my head.

Homura had cried out, a single sound resounding off the otherwise quiet room. It cut off with a sharp choke, the remnants of his will, his adamant refusal to offer the woman any satisfaction. At this point, however, will meant little, so very little, and he would have curled into a protective ball to somehow save himself had be been able to move.

And there went pretenses, now he was laid bare upon the table before her. Another helpless victim, another handpicked sacrifice to the utter beauty that was Science. She no longer heard his confidence or his mocking threats. Instead, she heard his pain and his fear, felt it in the air and tasted it like a drug upon her tongue. He was bleeding and the blood was a pure as he was soon to become.

"Just a little more," she murmured. Her voice was soothing now, to alleviate the terror now that he had decided to behave. The hole was cut and she pulled the blade away, letting it whir for a few moments longer as she admired her work. A perfect circle, exactly the size and width she needed. She was so good at her job.

Switching the power off, she smiled and picked up a long thin needle attached via wire to a machine that sat quietly in the darkness. She'd pull it forward soon enough, but for now, she could give Homura a little reprieve as a reward. Reaching forward, she tappd the end of the needle against his ear and smirked. "The brain is a fantastic organ, isn't it? Combined with science, it's absolutely magnificent. This thin bit of metal is all I need to heal you or kill you. A little bit too far to the right and you'll be dead. A little too far to the left and you could become a genius. Isn't it exciting?"

Leaning off to the side, she pulled the machine close and patted its glossy metal frame. "Thin spikes of metal and this little machine, all set up and wired to work exactly as I need it to. I designed it. Isn't it just fantastic?" She laughed, the sound echoing in the now silent room. "Oh, that's right. You can't see it, can you? You will, later. But not yet. Oh...not yet."

How long had it lasted, the pain and the knowledge so unlike anything Homura had experienced before? Of course he couldn't say, had no means of guessing outside of an eternity, and doubted any other answer would feel so truthful.

But all things end. The whirring continued, echoing in his ears, and it wasn't until he noticed that the source was gone that he realized the sound was stuck in his thoughts. That terrible buzzing, precursor to something he hadn't wanted to imagine, much less endure.

She seemed happier now. Did she think she had achevied victory over him, that Homura's natural responses somehow let her win? Or was it just the thrill of the power she claimed to hold, a tiny pinprick on his ear that could, by her word, do so much.

"Do...do you think it makes you a god?" He had been gasping, somehow his breath lost during what he had endured. It was a struggle to keep his voice steady, to hide the intense fire that burned on his skin and in his skull, but Homura thought he'd done well enough at it. "That is nothing to be so proud of. Strength borrowed, not earned."

"A god?" Her laughter rang against the walls, her mirth misplaced but genuine nonetheless. "A god? No, that's what you are and what you rebelled against, isn't it? Honestly." She chuckled and slipped off the table. "In a way, I suppose, but no, not in earnest."

The instrument was cleaned with loving care - a swipe of disinfectant, a careful drying, a thorough check of its surface. No imperfections, nothing out of place. She returned and sat down on the edge of the table, tapping a foot against the floor. "And this strength was earned, Homura. Through blood and sweat and tears, years spent to perfect this - my craft."

But why was she bothering to explain to him? It was much more fun to show him what her strength truly was and how he and all his godlike powers were useless in the face of it. "Now don't move or you'll end up a little to the right or left."

Holding the back of his head with one hand, she slowly pushed the needle into his brain. This required exact precision and she'd been practicing for awhile, just for him. He better appreciate it. Piercing deep, she stayed her hand as she reached her target and very carefully released the thin instrument. This was going to be tricky. She had to stimulate two areas separately in order to get this to work. "Not a muscle now, darling. We're just entering phase one."

He wanted to move. Oh gods in Heaven, Homura wanted nothing more in that moment than to thrash his head about, to in that way defy her orders and her smug sense of superiority, to defy that woman and show that he was still greater, a will that couldn't be touched.

But he couldn't. He couldn't risk it, that rebellion over something so foolish as this urge was. Homura hated this woman, surely, but he wouldn't dare to move, to harm himself and leave her to sigh and procceed to the next patient. And he was good at that stillness, having practiced for years in a prison cell, back in those days when he had no understanding of the world. Just his place in it, or what the gods wanted it to be, and a despair broken only by the promise that one day he would die and be done with it.

He felt that way now, and with every fiber of his being, loathed it.

He was being good because he had to be and the doctor relished that power. They always calmed down in the end, once a metal stake was in their brain. Their lives were always so much more important than their pride. It was a good thing, reminding them that there was always something more important than stupid hubris.

Like her and what she was about to do.

Her work, her masterpiece. A study of what happened if someone just tweaked a timeline, just a little. How different would a person be? How changed would they become? Remove a few small events, or one big one - where did that person end up? Curiosity welled up within her like the love for a child and she reached for a second needle. "Hush now," she murmured, well aware that he hadn't said a thing. "Almost there."

The second needle pushed deeper into his brain, reaching beyond the other, straight into the amygdala. The home of all sensory input and memory, this was going to be important for rooting out the exact memories she needed. They were so strong in him, so crucial to who he was, that she had to erase every trace of them - sensory, factual, otherwise. Clean slate. And nothing was better than a truly blank fresh start.

"Ready? Time to move on. Now, don't bite your tongue off. I won't be able to save you if you do." Checking the straps and making sure he was secured, his head kept still, she turned away and went to the machine. Switches clicked on and the metal beast began to hum. "We're ready to begin. Deep breath now."

She turned a dial and electricity surged through the wires, into the needles, and into his mind.

Homura couldn't so much as risk gritting his teeth, much less speaking to this woman. The words were easy to form though, his thoughts not impeded by those needles, nor was his growing hatred for her. At least at that moment.

But then the next came, and Homura's eyes opened wide as he began to relive the recent events of his life. The pains and pleasures he felt, from Landel's and before--sharp agony as a staff end was driven through his body, and sharper victory as he watched the new world, his creation form around him. Every detail from within and without, emotions and sensations, colors and smells, all of it as vibrant as the moments had been when he had lived them.

And then they were gone.

There wasn't a sense of loss, because Homura didn't know that he had loss. But confusion was rampant, as the demi-god realized that he was in pain, strapped to a table and certainly not in the tower of Konran. "What is going on?" Homura didn't move his head, some better part of his instinct warning against it, but his voice resounded with anger. "Where am I?"

"You're in my hands now," she said, smiling as she recognized the predicted signs. Recent memories, one's not so deeply rooted were the first to separate and disappear into the ether. She wished she could record his face as his memories disappeared, leaving nothing but a hole in their wake, but the dark was not appropriate for filming. And his expression was just for her personal satisfaction, not for the purpose of the experiment.

It was a sad thing that superfluous information had to be discarded like that.

"And I suggest you stay still." She turned the dial again, killing the electricity to his brain for a moment. A reprieve so the temperature didn't rise above acceptable levels. She checked the gauges on the machine, taking off her gloves to write something on a clipboard on the metal tray. Absently, she mumbled, "Results as expected...stage one..."

The pen hit the paper and she turned back to the dials, looking over her shoulder at Homura. She had to confirm how far back she'd gone. "And where do you think you are?"

"That is what I asked you." Homura tried to turn his eyes to see this stranger, who was at this moment little more than an emancipated voice. He didn't have time for such nonsense, not when his life was dwindling, his heart failing. In the morning was the final confrontation between his group and Sanzo's, and that event was one he wouldn't miss.

"I was waiting for sunrise on the battlefield. If you value your life, you will release me so I can return there. I have no time to waste with whatever you are doing."

Homura would only offer a single chance. Sanzo would come, and the last parts of his plan would fall into place. He refused to miss it.

Sunrise on the battlefield meant it was before his 'death.' She flipped through a few papers and then nodded, scribbling a note in the margins. It was a marvel of science that a person's memories could be so easily erased. Already he'd forgotten about the people here, the thin alliances and friendships that paled in comparison to his long life spent in Heaven. How interesting it would be so see the other patients' reactions when they realized how insignificant they were.

"I'll release you, Homura," she said with a smile as her hand went for the dial again. "Don't bite your tongue now. This is probably going to hurt."

She twisted the dial up again and waited as electricity pulsed forward into his skull, deep within his mind again. How much more could she steal? How far back should she go? Until he changed, she supposed. Until she had a pure specimen on her hands again.

Homura didn't understand, didn't have time to before the shocks came, and again the memories, the revitalization of points in his life, hundreds of years compressed into seconds, with accompanying sensations to match. Explosions in his senses, his thoughts unable to keep up with the flood, until it all suddenly stopped again, vanished from his mind and forgotten.

"Shien?" Homura sounded younger than he had moments ago, not for any change in his body, but in his mind. His eyes darted around, unable to see or discern anything in the dark that might help him understand what had happened. "Where is Shien? What happened?"

The machine cut off, she smirked as she realized what had happened. Interesting... She flipped through her file and remained silent for a moment, scribbling more notes into the margins here and there. A change of voice, an attitude adjustment, but not enough. Homura was regressing now. Gone was the absolute confidence of a god, replaced with...uncertainty? Something else?

The pen clicked against the clipboard as she put it down and smiled, looking over at Homura. "I'm giving you that second chance you asked for so long ago. You probably don't remember anymore - it was such an old, old promise," she said, smirking at the irony of it all. A god, reduced. It was almost laughable if it wasn't so entirely remarkable. If even the gods were susceptible to memory augmentation, then how far would it push a normal human? "We're not quite done yet though, so I suggest you remain quiet for now. Shut your mouth tight and don't bite your tongue, understand? It's best if you don't struggle, as well. It won't get you anywhere."

She waited for a sign of comprehension and then flipped a few switches, adjusting the power, tweaking this and that until she was certain she could slow the process. She was close now and had no need to jump centuries so much anymore. "Here we go." The final switch flipped, she cranked the dial up slowly and watched for his reaction.

"A second chance?" Homura barely had time to speak the question, to try and search his memory for that woman's voice before something happened, something that made Homura cry out in confusion. Memories, his worst ones: the deep voice of the Jade Emperor announcing his appointment, announcing her sentence. The snide leers of overconfident gods who hid the secrets of of the four, three gods and a heresy that dared to defy heaven, and got the fate they deserved. The quiet despair at being able to do nothing more than watch as his beloved was led off in chains, utter helplessness as Homura felt the weight of his own weakness crushing about his shoulders.

"Rinrei." Homura whispered her name, tears falling from his eyes for a moment. But only a moment before all that too vanished.

Flowers. Countless, brilliant shades of yellow and pink. Pollen on clothes, on skin. Honey-colored hair falling around him. The warmth of her body on his, surrounding him. Those things he could remember. Better memories, sweeter times. When he knew what happiness was.

When Homura had found his purpose.

The sadness was almost heartbreaking. If she'd been looking to be moved, perhaps it would have done just that - broken her heart. Instead, she was fascinated. He was showing weakness, vulnerability, gentleness - things that were never used to describe the man who had appeared at the Institute as Ethan O'Dell. The amazing power of memories - perhaps if they could drive him far enough back, he might actually believe that he was Ethan.

That was outside of her experiment parameters though, and tempting as that prospect was, she had to leave it for now. Writing a few notes in the file again, she let the machine idle. "Homura? What is the last thing you remember?"

Homura couldn't answer at first. His head was throbbing, pounding with an ache far worse than anything he'd ever known in his life. Even the dull passage of time in a prison cell hadn't been so bad as this, a slow agony, but gentle at the very least. Slowly he came to realize that something was wrong, though not what. And more importantly, the bonds around his limbs were different. Heavier, and more than just the chains he was required to wear as he wandered Heaven's halls.

They had captured him. But for what purpose?

And then the woman's voice made it through. Her words--had the gods found out somehow? But that was impossible! He and Rinrei had both been so careful, making sure to appear as nothing more than friends!

"I was wandering in the Courtyards. Alone." It was a lie, but Homura felt no guilt over it. He wasn't going to confirm the truth they might have already known, or worse, confess to the crime they might not. "Why do you ask? Why have I been brought here?"

He sounded so young and innocent. The doctor smiled faintly, taking note of his answer and the almost blatant lie that came with it. Getting up from her seat, she set the clipboard down on the instrument tray, leaning down by the table so that her hair alone could be seen. It was time for gentleness and healing.

At least for awhile.

"You've been brought here to heal and we're almost done. Almost," she said, her voice soothing despite the ominous ring to her words. Almost. Phase one complete and now it was time to move on.

Standing up, the doctor brushed her hair over his shoulder and moved to the table, placing a hand on the rods sticking into his brain. One by one, slow - easy. No need to hurt him now that he was being so good. Not more than necessary, of course. "Don't move now. This may hurt."

Slowly, she began to remove the metal needles, pulling them straight out so as not to damage him any.

"To heal?" Homura found some comfort, though little, when he saw the color of the woman's hair. He knew it wasn't Rinrei from her voice, but that shade was the same, and did it's part to help relax him. Only slightly though. The gods hadn't ever been overly kind to him because of what he was. Hair color wasn't a good reason to start telling this woman everything.

"I'm sorry miss, but I don't remember being hurt." She did seem to mean well, however, and for now Homura felt he could trust her for that much. But then she started doing something, something that was decidedly odd. A pressure in his head that Homura hadn't noticed until it began to shift, the demi-god frowned, though otherwise remained motionless as she had said.

Just what was going on?

"Of course you don't remember," she said, setting one of the needles down on the tray. She moved to take the other out and smiled. "It wasn't a very big injury, just a little tick I had to take care of."

The second needle removed and set on the tray, she cleaned her hands with iodine again and snapped on a pair of gloves. He was being so good now - it was a shame what she had to do in order to complete the transformation. His first memories though - these were important. God though he was, he was still powerless in the face of the Institute and it was important to instill that into him. The bone would heal soon enough and the hole wasn't a very large one. She'd just have to caution him not to get hit on the back of the head anytime soon. "It was an injury to the back of your head, but it's all better now. Be careful not to let others touch it, hm? I'm going to stitch you back up."

Taking the needle and the plastic thread, she closed the wound quickly and efficiently - something she'd always prided herself on. She was good at what she did and very fast at it. "There, all better. It wasn't so bad, was it?"

Not yet anyway.

Well, news that it was so easily repaired, although painfully--Homura hissed as the needle wove through his skin--was good to hear. But he still didn't understand how he couldn't have remembered. Not only getting hurt, but getting here, wherever he was. He'd been sleeping in the field with Rinrei, pleasant doze after their forbidden time together, in a place where the gods didn't tend to wander. It made no sense for him to be here now.

"Is...there was another god nearby." Homura needed to be sure that whatever happened to him hadn't affected her as well. If he was careful, he could ask. He would just have to be sure not to sound too concerned about it. "A woman, with hair like yours. Was she hurt?"

It wasn't a bad impression. Homura had heard the aloof voices of the other gods often enough to know what it should sound like.

After a moment, the demi-god sighed. "I guess it wasn't too bad, no. But I'd still like to know what happened, and why I can't remember it. And if you have something for headaches, it would be appreciated."

"I wouldn't know. You were the only one brought to me." There was no point in crushing him just yet. Let him have his delusions that his beloved was still around, and she'd gain better data. Data was what mattered now. Well, that and perfecting the experiment. "The blow was a hard one, that is perhaps why you don't remember."

A blatant lie, but delivered with conviction. Would he believe it or ask around it? Whichever it was, he was finished on this end. Loosening the straps just enough to let him turn, she prepared the next part of the experiment off to the side, in the dark where he could not see. "Turn over will you? I'll get something for your head."

"Oh." A simple reaction, but all Homura could risk. Further prying about Rinrei would only make her more suspicious. Whatever had happened was already bad enough without him making a careless mistake. A hard blow made sense, though it was an even more troubling thought. The gap in his memory of course provided no answer, and nothing good could have led to such a strike.

But how to find out without raising too many questions? Homura knew that it was dangerous, but he needed to find out the truth.

As his straps were loosened, the demi-god sat up, moving carefully. His vision flashed white for a moment, Homura wincing as he shifted. "Would it be all right if I don't lie down just yet? Since I got struck there, I'd rather not put pressure on it."

After a long moment, he sighed, turning to look at the woman as best he could in the glaring light. "Could you tell me what happened?"

Edited 2008-07-13 10:33 (UTC)

"You really should lie down though. The headrest is designed to keep pressure off the back of your head. I suppose a moment or two wouldn't hurt though. It will take me a bit to get your medicine ready." Lies. Such pretty little lies and he'd eat them all right up. He was worried about his precious lover, not about what was about to happen to him. She stood off to the side, the instrument tray hidden in shadow, metal and bottles clinking together. A farce, just for him.

His innocence, his careful distrust - it was all so cute. She picked up a syringe, filling it with painkiller and came back, motioning for Homura to lie down. "This will make you dizzy if you don't lay back down, Homura. As soon as we take care of your headache, I'll tell you everything."

Homura watched the woman, at least as much as he could. But the bright lights only added to the agony of his headache, and he had to squint to see anything at all. Even then, the best he could make out was a vaguely god-shaped blur. Still, she seemed to mean well enough. Even if the gods hated him, Homura had the benefit of being kin to the Jade Emperor, and of the laws saying gods couldn't kill.

So when she told him to lay down again, Homura thought nothing of it. As she said, there was blissfully negligible pressure on his wound, and hopefully the medicine would help.

"Thank you." Homura meant the words, and said nothing more as he once again thought of Rinrei. Maybe it was just him. It wouldn't have been the first time some band of gods decided that the heresy shouldn't walk the same holy halls as they did. Rinrei was probably fine, if worried about him. Homura smiled a little at the thought, thinking of her happiness when he came out perfectly well.

He'd have to see her soon. Homura didn't want to make her fret too long.

He was so cooperative. Such a change from before when he'd been all spitfire and threats. "I have to tighten the restraints again. Just in case the medicine does make you dizzy."

What a lie. She made her way over, setting a capped syringe on the table and locked him back against the operating table. She wondered if, later on should he ever regain his memories, he would recall the time when he could have made good on his threats. How frustrated would he be? She couldn't wait to see.

Swabbing down his temple and the middle of his forehead, she uncapped the syringe and injected the painkiller. It would, of course, help later for what was coming, but it was also a nice little anesthetic - what he would have received earlier had he been as good as he was now. "There, just a pinprick, hm? Wait for a bit while that takes effect."

And while he waited, the doctor pulled the tray around and snapped on a new pair of gloves. The procedure wasn't finished, not by a long shot and she had just a little bit of cosmetic surgery to do before he could be let out into the halls. "How are you feeling, Homura?"

Homura closed his eyes tightly when he laid back, the bright lights shining directly in his face too much to look at straight on. At least for the moment--the pinprick of the needle was sharp, but it heralded the coming of sweet relief, something Homura was desparately looking forward to.

The numbness couldn't come quickly enough, though it left Homura more dazed than he was expecting. Dizzy indeed, and he thought that if it weren't for the straps, he would have fallen off the table just then. "Off balance." He spoke quietly, truthfully, seeing no reason not to give an honest answer to the question. Something struck him as odd, however, hearing the sharp snap of the woman's gloves, the clanging of her tools as she rolled the tray over.

"Is there more?" He could only guess, still hesitant to open his eyes for the white he could see through the lids. The injury might be worse than he thought if she wasn't finished. Just what had happened to cause all of this?

"Yes, just a little." Making sure the restraints were secure, she strapped his head in place and smiled down at him. Now he could have seen her magnificent smile, but he had to go and close his eyes. Ah well. Memories of honey colored hair and sweet lies were all he would have then. Such a shame. She'd been told she was quite pretty.

Picking up a scalpel, she pressed a finger to the middle of his forehead, testing the area. "Something was stolen from you, Homura. I'm going to give it back."

Whether the anesthetic had already taken effect or not, she didn't much care. It would dull the pain after and that was all that mattered. Placing the blade's edge against his skin, she said, "You'll be better when I'm done."

She pressed and the skin split, blood welling up, and she smiled again.

"Stolen? What--" Homura's words were cut off in a sharp hiss, the blade of the scalpel sharp against his skin. Whatever she had given him was slow to act, taking the edge off but not the full effect.

Something wasn't right about all of this.

Homura tried to move, but it was far too late for resistence. He opened his eyes, trying to find the woman he'd heard speaking, trying to find balance in the spinning room. He couldn't focus, lights splitting into threes, splitting his head with fresh pain.

Homura hated situations like this. It was a new thing to him, to know hatred for his treatment. But certainly this meritted it, for the emotions it sparked within him. "What are you doing to me?"

"I told you. I'm giving you something back that isn't so easily obtained." The scalpel dug into his skin a little deeper, cutting a small line into his forehead. She withdrew it and then crossed it with another, creating a neat cross. Taking a clean towel, she dabbed at the blood running down his face and sighed. He would be so beautiful when she was done. Restored to his full glory and returned to himself.

This was easy. Merely inserting something and getting it to graft. Nowhere near as hard as erasing centuries worth of a life lived. Cosmetic surgery, really - simple, something she could do in her sleep. She uncorked a bottle and then forced the skin open, holding it with one hand while her other hand picked up a pair of tweezers. She reached into the bottle and removed what looked like a small bead cut in half. Pushing it beneath the opened skin, she made sure the better portion of the globe remained on the surface. Closing the skin over the sides, she pressed the little ornament in until it sat evenly. There. Almost perfect.

Humming as she started to stitch him up, she proudly gazed at her handywork. Now there would be nothing to distinguish him from his old self. Nothing, of course, but the uniforms. "All better. Isn't it lovely, Homura? You're you again."

Homura peered, but he couldn't make out the woman's face. All he could see was shadow surrounded by light. Not even enough to see the chakra the woman should've bore if she were a god, if this were Heaven. But Homura wasn't sure any longer, simply because in all the rumors he'd heard, there had been no talk of a woman so insane.

She would have been talked about. By the guards, by the court officers who thought themselves superior. Someone.

"Who are you?" Homura tried to focus on his own suspicions rather than the pain, or the dull haze it was fading into. "I've never not been me. Do you think you can toy with me because I'm a heresy?"

"Let me go! You've treated me, haven't you? I want to leave."

The final stitch in place, she snipped the thread and contemplated bandaging up her handiwork. It would be a shame to hide that away from him and likely the good day nurses would do it for her... Ah, best to leave it then, she thought. Give him a good night where he could display his godliness and feel none of the arrogance.

"Why, I'm a doctor," she said, putting her tools away. The tray was rolled away into the darkness, as was the giant machine - packed away into some invisible corner. "That's all, just a doctor."

Coming back, she sat down on the edge of the table and smiled at Homura - maybe now he would see it. A smile outlined against the shadows that otherwise obscured her face. "I fixed you, not toyed with you. It's time for you to play now though. Don't get hurt, hm? I did put so much work into you."

Tracing a finger down his jawline, she moved away, waving over her shoulder as the sound of her footsteps gradually faded out. As soon as they were gone, a lock clicked and a door was revealed. Just a moment or two more and the restraints popped off, leaving Homura free to wander.

Homura had no choice but to lay there, to endure what the so-called "doctor" put him through. The worst of it was thinking that she likely wouldn't be touched by Heaven, who had much better things to do than seek out insane women who picked on their unclean creatures.

He didn't understand her words, about time to play, and about not getting hurt. What was clear, however, as she vanished into the darkness, was the freeing of his restraints. Little good it did him, however, as Homura's head spun the moment he tried to sit up. Whatever the woman had given him did its work, the pain fading to a dull, distant throb. But everything else seemed to separate as well, even the feeling of his feet on the floor.

He thought they were on the floor. Homura was almost certain they were.

He knew he couldn't wait, however, couldn't linger in that room in case that woman came back. With a single goal he forced his way to the door, moving with slow, unbalanced steps.

He had to get out. He had to find Rinrei, find out what had happened to them.

[To here]

Nightshift 33: Disciplinary Therapy Room 1 [M-U for Homura]

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