damned_institute | Day 37: Sun Room (4th Shift)

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Day 37: Sun Room (4th Shift)

There were still too many things on Armand's mind for him to truly relax. The morning with Alec had been a help. And seeing that TK was going to be well helped him know that it was time to work out something else, but what? He'd already, without success again, tried to reach one of the club leaders about his sole idea of something new and different. Maybe it was hopeless.

There was no way he was going to play with paper and glue like a small child, and he glared at the nurse as best he could until she gave up on the idea. There was a free chair in the Sun Room--in fact, there were many free chairs--where he settled down to see what the new patients looked like. Prisoners, not patients. He felt bad that he had to remind himself. Even if he was crazy, he wasn't going to give in to Dr. Landel's game, not today. He nibbled on an overgrown cuticle and kept an eye on the room. No dozing today.

[for Citan]

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"I suppose it is afternoon by now," Armand said, not willing to agree that it was good but still not liking to sound childish or grumpy at Citan. He feared his smile was a bit wan, but honestly he didn't feel there was much of anything to smile about today. He wanted to please his friend, so he tried. And he tried not to think about Alec. Alec was a subject he simply didn't want to bring up with Citan.

"Did you sleep well after... lights out?" he asked. TK said he hadn't, and Armand wondered if it was universal. "I think me and Morrison are both feeling pretty upset by how things have been going. We're letting you down." He lost hold of his smile, and his guilt shone through. "That's a lie. I've let you down, both of you, and I'm sorry. It's my fault Morrison got hurt, and I feel like we're getting nowhere, even when you have plans."

Citan was quiet for some time, leaning back and watching nothing in particular. Armand's lack of self confidence was both a blessing and a hindrance. A blessing because it made the younger man more easily malleable, but a hindrance because the boy did have potential. A delicate balance needed to be struck.

"Armand," Citan finally began, calmly, "I wouldn't expect a cat to grow wings and sprout a beak and take to the skies as a bird. And I wouldn't expect a young man such as yourself, with no background in these sorts of affairs and no experience with this manner of place, to be anything more than what he is. There is no disappointment in being yourself. We'll work everything out, you'll see."

It was a dangerous game. Less so since Morrison was not in attendance, but dangerous all the same. Citan had no wish to be discovered for what he truly was, not at this point.

Armand listened to Citan's encouraging words, and tried to apply them to himself. He could almost hear Percy's words instead. Most of the time, the man had been encouring, meeting Armand's fragile eagerness with honesty. But every time a man spoke to Armand in those patient tones, he heard something of the rebuke that he'd so richly deserved that January when he'd first met Jeanne.

"I'm afraid you'll have to work them out without me," he finally said. "I don't want to be responsible for someone else getting hurt." It wasn't a refusal; he wasn't quitting their company. He was simply deeply afraid of his own capacity for disaster, and what it would bring to his friends, men he trusted and admired. "Please understand, doctor. I have ideas of what someone could do here, even without fighting, that might be useful, but I think they must be stupid ideas, and I daren't tell even you, one of my closest friends, for fear you'll laugh at me."

"Doc," he began, finally after all this time slipping into the more familiar address Citan had invited from the beginning, "You don't know what it's like to be stupid, to know that your every enterprise will turn to ruin." He bit his lip to shut himself up. At this rate, he'd be claiming responsibility for the failure of the French Revolution to live up to its promises.

"And now you're just being silly," Citan said, raising an eyebrow. "I could call you many things, Armand, but stupid is not one of them. And I do not hold you responsible for what happens to me. Or to Morrison, or anyone else. Simply because you keep our company on the dangerous nights doesn't mean you hold any responsibility for our safety. Yes, of course I trust you and would turn to you should I become mortally injured and in need of a doctor. But luckily for us, I am a doctor, and therefor you wouldn't need to take me very far."

He hoped to lighten the mood some. He had to wonder just what manner of life Armand had led, to bring him to see himself in this light. It was true, what he said. Citan had no idea what it felt like to fail over and over. Failing was something he rarely did. Even his most monstrous creations and enterprises had succeeded.

"I promise you, my young friend, whatever it is you decide to divulge to me, I will not laugh at you. You would be surprised at what a person can do, when he turns his mind to think on it."

Armand flushed, torn between embarrassment and actually being upset at Citan's words. He still resolved to keep Alec to himself, at least for the moment. Citan made sense, but then again, he always did. "It's nothing really. It's an idea the club leaders disparaged before because they didn't want to think that someone besides themselves could be trustworthy." And who was Armand to claim that he was. At least he could claim honesty and diligence to his name.

"I think we need a way to... move certain important messages and items around under the noses of the staff. The message board doesn't work for everything, and people are constantly having to run by one another's rooms at the beginning of the night. We need a team of messengers, or couriers if you will, who will collect messages during the day to be delivered by hand or at night, and pick up items to deliver to another person at night." There he'd said it. He resisted his urge to cringe. "It's something I could do with some help, and it would only be moderately dangerous since most of the activity will be in the dormitory areas of the Institute, which are slightly less likely to have monsters."

"And of course, I think we need weapons." Everyone needed those.

Citan listened carefully, watching Armand mildly from behind his small glasses. It was odd, he felt, that no one else had come up with this. And that the so-called 'club' leaders had dismissed it. He was rather glad he'd never bothered to ally himself with any of them, if this was the idiocy that they managed things with. Five moments in Armand's presence was enough to prove to anyone with a brain that he was trustworthy.

"There is a great deal of time wasted at night by the need to impart information to one another," he agreed, nodding. Honestly, the idea had merit. And if they wished to do all they could to ensure that their plans were truly kept secret....

"I can't help but worry, of course, that you would come to some harm," he pointed out, frowning some. "But I suppose you face as much danger making it to our meeting point as you would running letters. But I'm afraid I don't need any weapons myself. I prefer to use my own two hands."

Armand bit his lip. Citan seemed to think that he meant to leave them to do this, and maybe he did, but that wasn't what he meant to say. He kept his eyes down, out of embarrassment. "You've said you don't need a weapon before, but Morrison and I do. I am going to have one made by the lady weapon-maker so I can wait, but I think Morrison needs something sooner than that." We're different than you he wanted to say.

"I get to our meeting point every night unarmed and without a light. I have the route memorized." Though his heart always jumped into his throat when he had to cross into the wider hall area near the nurse's station where he'd lost both light and knife in one night when another patient had attacked him. He and Morrison had been burned that night, and Citan hadn't been there.

"I think you're a man used to solving problems. We have a problem. The whole Institute has a problem, but I'm more worried about us three. I don't want to lose you both as friends."

"Oh, don't worry about me, Armand," Citan said, in a dismissive manner. "Problems have a way of working themselves out, even if no one tries to solve them."

Things worked out, one way or another. Honestly, this entire charade was losing its appeal and growing boring. The challenge had been something at first, as Citan had never been one to simply sit and do nothing or focus on one aspect of his learnings. But now the easy, soft and comfortable life of a royal physician was seeming like a wonderful thing. Nothing better! And he could tinker with his machines in the evening, after dinner, and retire to bed with Yui....

He had to admit, he was growing homesick.

"Well. I support your idea, Armand, and weapons aren't too terribly difficult to come by in this place. We'll be fine."

"So you don't mind if we look for weapons tonight?" he asked, surprised and abruptly eager. Armand sometimes wondered why it was harder to keep control of his emotions here. He vaguely hoped it was because living at the Institute was difficult and tiring, and not because he was as weak as he suspected he was.

But support from Citan was nothing to sneeze at. Armand sat back now, not as worried as he was. "This place is notorious for protecting the most likely areas to find weapons. There must be some medical equipment upstairs. Perhaps we should go up there tonight. Which night is it... uh, are people being kidnapped or forced to fight?"

Citan blinked, as though taken aback. "Why would I mind?" he inquired, quite curious as to why Armand thought he would have some protest. If he and Morrison needed weapons, they needed weapons. And he agreed that it would be a wise idea to arm them both.

"Scalpels can be found where medical supplies are kept," he added, remembering his own. "I've one of my own, though not to use as a weapon. And I believe that tonight they perform experiments." As long as they kept to their schedule, of course.

"I thought you might because... if we do that we won't be working on your plan to dissect monsters." Armand wasn't completely certain what dissecting the monsters would teach them, but he wasn't a scientist either. To him, blood and guts were just gory, not interesting or informative, but he wasn't going to dismiss it as potentially useful. "And... I want to try to get Morrison's help with the messenger service. You are right that it won't be completely safe, but I want to help, and I'm virtually useless in a normal fight."

He nodded, still a bit hopeful in his musings. "You've been to where those supplies are? Do you suppose it is near where the experiments are done? If it is, that hall would be crowded and perhaps protected."

Citan waved his hand. "I'm sure we'll run into something I can cut into, no matter what we're doing." Perhaps he'd even have more luck, as seeking out the creatures had resulted in little.

Though if Armand and Morrison were going to be flitting about with this messages idea, Citan had to wonder where that left him. He had little desire to be a mere courier for the prisoners.

"Ah, no," he went on, showing no trace of his thoughts other than that he had been lost in thought. "It was given to me by someone who had. I can't say where the room was, only that it was on the second floor."

"Well, I suppose we'll just have to see when we go up." Armand didn't like not knowing, but how could people know anything here. "Do you have any ideas of something else we can do to get something sharp into Morrison's hands?" He still wasn't thinking of finding anything for himself in the faith that he'd be able to get something made before too long had gone by.

"There are the so-called alchemists, but it seems they have a wait list," Citan mused. "We're most likely better off searching on our own. The second floor seems to have the most supplies, I imagine we'll find something there." And it was always worth exploring up there again. Citan had only been once or twice at this point.

"The second floor it is." Armand felt happy to have a plan, and it showed. Not just that he smiled--he did that even if he was unhappy--but he seemed relaxed. The awful shadow of making decisions had been lifted. "That is where my little kitchen knife came from, and the broom handle."

"I don't often see you during the day, Is everything well with you?"

"Oh, I'm fine." Bored and restless, but otherwise fine. "Not much to report, I'm afraid. The days are really rather quiet around here." He'd spent his day in useless conversation and consoling distraught children. Hardly anything worth mentioning.

"And, well, you've heard how my night without you went." Also nothing to report. And he hadn't seen that woman around lately. A pity. She had been quite interesting.

"They are quiet, aren't they? For a real insane person, I imagine it's meant to be restful." But he knew Citan wasn't crazy, nor was he of ordinary intelligence. It must be awful. "I hope you are catching up with your naps then," he said, trying to make a joke. That's what Percy would do when he couldn't do anything useful. Nap.

"I am happy to hear you're still healthy. Sometimes people get sick, even when they're not hurt." He didn't know what else say, because he had secrets on his mind. He glanced back over at the message board, hoping to see Alec stop by. "So I suppose we can meet in our usual place and try not to delay too much this time."

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Day 37: Sun Room (4th Shift)

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