Day 40: Greenhouse [Fourth Shift]

[toxicspiderman]

Most days, fish and chips (and a cold beer or three) was pretty goddamned high on S.T.'s list of perfect expense-account lunches. Today, the idea of picking at greasy hunks of unidentified bottom-feeder odds-and-ends (politely known as scrod, to the delight of teenagers all across the Northeast) didn't appeal.

He begged off and collapsed into his bed, after using his damp shirt as an excuse to surreptiously check the contents of his closet. Bingo. His nurse watched his little show, unimpressed but (more importantly) unsuspicious. Not that his hairy chest was much of a catch today, pale and sweating from fever. At least she didn't tuck him in.

The intercom woke up up right on schedule, and pulling the sheets back over his head almost won. But a handful of unanswered missives and a vague sense of duty dragged him out to the bulletin, and from there it was easier to stagger over to the greenhouse.

It was warm inside -- a deep, humid warmth that actually penetrated to the aches in more joints and muscles than he could remember the names of. Like a sauna, without the hassle of finding someplace to look that wasn't a mound of pasty middle-management cellulite. Or a sweat lodge, without the opposite hassle of being conscious that he was the only white guy in the room. In fact, besides the nurses in holding patterns, he was the only person in the room.

He located a tray of tomato seedlings going rootbound in their tiny six-packs, and a potting bench whose location was a quick-and-dirty approximation of equidistantly far from anything blooming. He assured his nurse he knew what he was doing, and after a couple of successful repottings, gently sliding the little seedlings out and loosening the tangled roots, she seemed to agree and backed off. It was, by far, the most fucking theraputic thing he'd found in this hellhole so far, and he let himself sink into the rhythm of the task.

[Free!]

Comments

[31st-of-china.livejournal.com]

Sanzo put the seed packet down. It was more something Hakkai would've been into. Maybe Goku. Shit, he still hadn't seen the idiot recently either. Whatever the fuck had really happened last night in the caverns, it wouldn't prevent the monkey from going down there in the future. He wasn't even sure just how to go about stopping Goku this time either. He'd never gotten this fucking pig-headed before--

Another patient took the spot next to him. As much as he hated pointless conversation, he wasn't completely put off by it this time. He didn't like where all that doubt was going. The fact that it was happening in the first place was unacceptable, especially after he'd always put so much emphasis on non-attachment.

"That'd be a massive understatement." He didn't need a beer, he needed a shitton more than just one. Enough to get sufficiently wasted after all this. He'd encountered a lot on the way to India - sick, fucked up things - but this place was quickly about to top them. The whole thing was trial on his patience during the daytime. The night...

He glanced at the other patient. Part of his face was covered in bandages, and there was a hint of bruising. It looked like he'd run headlong into a youkai's fist. Whatever happened, it must've recent.

"And you look like shit."

[kindalikedit]

"You're not exactly looking too hot yourself," Dean remarked. And he really didn't. Okay, so he wasn't wrapped in bandages like some living mummy or on crutches or wheelchair-bound, like some of the other patients here, but Dean knew that look: the way Blondie's skin was too pale to be healthy, the dark bags under his eyes. If he didn't know better, he'd say the other guy had been hit by the same hypothermia magic Dean had earlier. "I'm Brian," he said.

He didn't offer his hand. Blondie didn't want it or need it, especially with how crappy he looked. Just standing here in the humid air of the Greenhouse, crowded around by all these plants, Dean swore he looked possibly nauseous. Dean didn't quite take a step back, just in case, but he did keep an eye out in case he had to jump backward. Ending the day with getting another guy's puke on him wasn't his idea of a good time. Aware of the nurses' eyes scanning the room, Dean helped himself to a pot, sneaking a glance at the other patients to clue himself in on what he was supposed to be doing to look busy. Potting plants was way too Home and Gardens for him, and while he could pretty much say he'd never held down an honest job in his life, gardening wasn't exactly a skill you needed in hunting.

He mimicked the others, taking a handful of soil and sticking it in the pot.

"So what got you?" Dean asked Blondie. He indicated with a little hand shovel his pale skin. "Not my business, but I looked like that the other day. Wonderin' if you ran into the same thing."

A sudden series of loud coughs made Dean look away sharply from Blondie, distracted for a split second. His eyes sought out Sam, but, he noted with relief, it wasn't his brother who was hacking up a storm; instead, it was the older guy he was with, and, as he watched, the guy hacked up a hairball. Dean watched, but Sam didn't follow suit, and while every part of him wanted to head over anyway, he had to keep his cool and not jump the gun if Sammy wasn't in trouble. His brother glanced over then. Dean met Sam's eyes. You okay, Dean didn't even have to ask outloud, dipping his head slightly. Sammy gave him a slight shake of the head, signaling that he had it under control.

Dean chewed the inside of his cheek, and reluctantly turned back to dicking around with the pot.

[31st-of-china.livejournal.com]

"Sanzo. And it depends what 'the same thing' is. What did you run into?" Had this man been to the basement? Whatever the reason, he didn't like the fact that Brian had actually brought his condition up. He was fine and he was getting tired of people thinking otherwise; it was just getting too humid in here for some reason.

There was an explosion of coughing nearby, loud enough to draw Brian's attention. Sanzo glanced over at the source, in time to see another patient choking out...what the fuck was that? That wasn't--

It was. It was a honest-to-gods clump of hair, shaped roughly into a sphere and shiny with saliva. Sanzo couldn't stop the slight look of disgust from crossing his face. He looked back at the empty pot. Who the hell ate hair? The only way he could see human hair (and it definitely looked human) being ingested in that amount was if he was similar to some of the youkai filth.

A cannibal?

Sanzo spared one last glance at that patient, memorizing the face. If he was one, it marked him as potentially dangerous.

[kindalikedit]

Dean shrugged. "I didn't get a good look. Went outside and ran into this thick fog. All I know is I heard a female voice chanting this weird crap," and it was weird, even for him, 'cause it sure as hell didn't sound like the typical things you'd expect to hear from a witch's mouth, "and I was gettin' hit with..."

He trailed off, not entirely sure if he wanted to go with the "it's magic" route. If he'd been hit with the same mojo, then great, they'd have a common enemy. If he didn't, Dean supposed he could always take a page out of Ron's book and pretend he was just coping. So long as he said he didn't actually hunt these things, he should be fine.

"Magic, I guess," Dean said. "Like, suddenly there was this feeling of freezing cold, colder than anything I've ever felt before. And it actually got worse even though I booked it outta there."

He glossed over getting rescued by Ron. That wasn't important. What was important was finding out if Sanzo ran into the same witch; better yet, if he knew what she looked like so he could find her. The best Dean himself had seen was just a fleeting shadow against the fog and her voice, but trying to root through all the patients and staff, hoping to find that voice? Wasn't gonna be easy.

[31st-of-china.livejournal.com]

"I didn't run into anything like that." Sanzo said coolly. Whatever that was. A patient? Or one of the creatures here? The chanting implied a need for something to help focus the power. "Another patient ran me through."

He didn't miss that small hesitation at the word 'magic'. Maybe they didn't have spells or abilities like that back where Brian came from. It was possible this was the very first time he'd ever been confronted with something like it, and now wasn't sure how to deal with it. Or the fact that it existed.

...Or he was trying to cover something up. Sanzo wasn't sure what that'd be just yet. But he knew better than to assume on good faith that Brian was telling the truth. Everyone lied. The difference was whether that lie would get your ass killed or not. Sanzo didn't harbor any illusion that the other prisoners were his allies. It didn't matter if they were all in the same shithole, that didn't mean a damn thing.

It was clear he was new to all this. He had to get this pre-emptively. "And I want to make something clear. It's obvious that you're new. And I'm not going to babysit you: find someone else."

[kindalikedit]

Getting run through? Yeah, that'd fuck a guy up: Dean was frankly surprised he was standing and not, y'know, resting. Then again, he had no idea how long ago he'd been stabbed. What Dean did know was that it sucked for Sanzo that he'd been tagged, it also told him that obviously he had to look out not just for the monsters, but also for the normal humans.

It probably didn't need to be said, but it still didn't surprise people: people were crazy and getting thrown into a place like Landels? Probably wasn't helping. The only person he knew he could trust for sure was Sam.

Any sense of sympathy he had vanished once Sanzo rounded on him and started to bitch him out. Dean's eyebrow rose. Okay, dude, not cool. Sucked he'd been tagged, but he wasn't about to stand here and get treated like he was a pain in the ass who needed handholding and diaper changing. In short, a friggen civvie. Dean set down the pot, didn't slam it, and turned toward Bitchy, his lip curled in a sarcastic smirk. At least he wasn't gonna start swinging, like he had yesterday. Slugging Slappy in the face had been, what was the word? Oh yeah. Relaxing.

"Pretty sure I can handle myself." Dean's smile wasn't at all friendly; he wasn't even trying. It was almost an unconscious challenge. "Least I know to watch my back."

[31st-of-china.livejournal.com]

Sanzo's mouth curled into a slight sneer at that. How often had he heard that before, and it turned out to be a load of bull? How many times where people laughed at the idea that the nightshift just might be more than they could handle? Maybe it had sounded crazy the first time, but he'd known better than to completely ignore it.

The monk didn't quite glare at Brian, instead gave him a decidedly chill look. It hadn't been about watching his fucking back. He hadn't gotten ambushed like a dumbfuck kappa.

He wasn't going to rise to that bait just yet. Of course Brian'd chose the most moronic route to go; he didn't like being told point blank how things were going to go down and grabbed the nearest thing.

"This is coming from the person who ran outside and got hit by a little fog." Brian was smiling, but Sanzo wasn't taken in by it. He'd seen that look on Hakkai and Gojyo's face before. Mostly the roach's. The monk just jerked his head slightly at the bandages on half of Brian's face. "Those wounds? You can handle yourself, I'm sure."