damned_institute | Day 34: Breakfast

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Day 34: Breakfast

[starting off in M13]

The last part of the night was little more than a blur in Homura's mind. The men had rushed in, but not joined them, instead staying off to themselves. Before any of them had a chance to react, however, a voice sounded through the air, mocking some other person Homura had never heard of, and the patients themselves.

To Homura, whoever that man was, he sounded a great deal like a god.

But before he could ask questions, the demi-god found himself no longer in the chapel, but some strange room on a bed. Is that what Kenren had meant from his earlier warning? Homura sat up, glad at least that the world didn't spin when he did so. Then the same man from before began to speak again, with a completely different tone. It was confusing to hear him talk that way, calling them patients instead of prisoners as he had before. Homura listened quietly as the announcement was made, then got out of bed.

Maybe he wouldn't have to go anywhere yet. It wasn't like Homura knew where to go anyway, and that meant he had time. If this was his room, and if he had been here as long as Kenren had said, there was a chance he could find something with answers. The Taisho had even told him that Homura had seen Rinrei. Certainly he would've written something down, made a map, something that could let him find her again! He started with the desk at the end of his bed, first finding a small stack of notebooks. Picking up the first, he flipped through, turning the pages with quickening desperation as he found each one to be blank.

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Seeing the boy's distress wrung Armand's heart. "Why was she crying?" He wondered why Bridget thought it was his fault, but he didn't ask. "Did a monster hurt her?"

"No." Setting the fork neatly beside his plate, Bridget folded his hands in his lap. "I hurt her. I didn't want her to get hurt, but I wound up hurting her anyway." Bridget's breath caught for a moment and he had to stop and think. Collect himself.

"I met a girl last night and she ...." He shook his head, uncertain of what had happened. "There was blood and I, I thought that she was hurt." He shook his head. "She wasn't."

"Then what as it?" The idea of Bridget hurting anyone confused Armand. Despite what the child had said about his previous career, Bridget was one of the gentlest, sweetest people Armand had ever met in all his life. Almost like--he shook his head to dismiss that memory.

"What did the other girl do?" he asked. He couldn't keep his worry contained, but while Bridget sat so closed in on himself, he didn't feel comfortable touching the boy, even for comfort.

Bridget could feel his heart rate pick up as he thought about what had happened. "She..." He hesitated and his shoulders shook slightly. "Her hand was bleeding and I walked to her. I wanted to help but she... she launched herself at me and held her hand..." All the color drained out of Bridget's face.

"She was strong and she, she held her hand to my mouth..." He glanced up at Armand. "I can still taste it."

"Taste it?" Taste what? But Armand didn't ask out loud because he realized what Bridget meant. If it were possible for more blood to drain from his face, it would. His skin already felt chilled.

This could not be good. "Do you feel ill? What else did she do?"

Deliberately, partially to prove something to himself, he reached for Bridget's hand.

"I don't know." Bridget shook his head slightly. "It hurt. Like there was something inside and it wanted out, but it couldn't, so it started to tear up my insides. And.... I could feel her, in my head." His breath hitched again and he tried to keep from crying.

"I think I passed out." A mercy. The pain had been incredible. His hand under Armand's was ice cold, and trembling like a tiny bird's heart, but he made no move to take it back this time. He needed to touch, something to remind him that he wasn't as dirty as he felt, that he wasn't still covered in her blood.

Armand gripped the small, cold hand in his tightly. He was worried about the temperature, although he had no idea what else to look for if Bridget was undead now. The boy seemed unchanged if very traumatized. "Does it hurt now?" he asked. "It's fine to cry if you want. I'm your friend."

Bridget shook his head. "No. It doesn't hurt anymore. And I can't feel her like I did before." He took a shaking breath and smiled slightly up at Armand.

"Thank you though. For being my friend."

"I wish I could do more to help you. I'm not much of a friend." That smile broke his heart. "Now, tell me about your friend. I can't imagine you hurting anyone deliberately." He smiled back though, as warmly as he could and did not let go of the hand, even though it meant he couldn't do anything else.

Bridget moved his hand to hold the older man's tightly as he shook his head. "I've told you before," he said. "Armand is a wonderful friend and person and I don't want you to say bad things about him."

At the question, Bridget looked away again. "I woke up and Miss Sohma was there. She... she was worried about me, but my mind..." He frowned. "I was very confused. And then the girl with the blood she, she wantedme to go with her and Miss Sohma said no. They argued and then Miss Sohma..." He hesitated for a moment. "She went to slap the other girl and I, I just knew that if shedid that, the girl would hurt her." He looked up at Armand, eyes bright with tears. "Maybe kill her. I-I couldn't let her do that, so ... I told her I should go..."

He tookasmall, hicupping breath. "I hurt her because of that and she'smy friend. I didn't want to hurt her, but I did."

At that moment, Armand dearly wished his other hand was free of the sling so he could squeeze Bridget's shoulder. He settled for squeezing the hand back tightly. "She didn't understand. I'm sure she will understand when you give her a chance and explain. You saved her. That is being a good friend. Sometimes we don't see that."

Bridget looked up at Armand as though the idea of explaining himself had never crossed his mind. "Do you think she'll let me talk to her? She was so upset last night..."

"I think she will. She's your friend yes? Even if she was hurt." He hoped so anyway. He knew how hard it was to hear something difficult. "Do you want any help with it?"

Reaching up with his free hand, Bridget rubbed at his eyes and shook his head. The gesture made him seem even younger than his apperance alone had.

"No," he said, turning to smile up at his friend. "I should talk to her on my own. I'll explain and, well, I guess hope that she doesn't hate me. Thank you."

"At least then she'll know. And if she hates you after you've told her, it won't be your fault." He held his breath, hoping that Bridget would see what he meant. "You did your best."

Bridget shook his head, not wanting to dwell on it anymore.

"Enough about me. It's silly to think on." He lifted his hand and lightly touched the sling before taking his hand back and looking at his friend.

"What happened?"

Armand swallowed. "There was a large black thing in the kitchen. I was the last one of my group out and it clawed me as I was leaving." He looked down, embarrassed and ashamed of his stupidity. "Morrison had already been hurt trying to protect me."

Bridget blinked. "Is it bad?" He didn't seem to find anything 'stupid' about being attacked, unless you were one to walk up to your attacker and try to help...

"I was worried about you last night," he added. "I thought I would try the walls again, but I didn't make it."

"And I was worried for you. I almost wish you had done that now. It was stupid because I hung back and didn't pay enough attention." His own self-criticism was harsh. He shook his head. "I don't think it is too bad. I can move it a little. It hurts though." The gray shirt didn't do much to hide the bandages around to the back of his shoulder.

With a frown, Bridget shook his head, expression growing stern.

"Armand, are you a trained fighter, soldier, or hunter?"

"Neither. I am, however, a perfectly healthy adult male. I should have been more careful." He could match Bridget for stern. Barely.

"So?" He shook his head. "You don't have the training for a situation like this. Not everyone here does." He shrugged slightly.

"We're all going to come across things we can't do or that we coud have done differently. The point is to learn from your mistakes. So you don't make another one and wind up dead."

"It's not me I'm worried about. Morrison was seriously hurt protecting me. I don't like that. Not at all." Armand looked down at the cooling pancakes, which looked even less appealing now than they had before. "I should tell them I can't go with them tonight." Though the idea hurt more than he liked to admit.

"Why would you tell them that?" Bridget tilted his head. "If you want to go with them, you should. A mistake is a mistake. Learn from it and move on."

He took a breath. "It's a lesson everyone learns and one I would like you to learn so that you stop thinking you're such a bad person. I wouldn't be here if you were."

"I am not saying I'm a bad person, just not a reliable companion when there's danger." He would not look up at the boy. "I can't help in those situations. I'm a danger to everyone around me then."

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