Dayshift 43: Waiting Room / Lobby 2 [4th Shift]

[contentincloset.livejournal.com]

"Now you just have a seat and wait for your visitor like everyone else."

As the nurse went away from him, Kurogane huffed out some agitation but refused to have a seat. Hearing that he had a visitor had been one of the last things he'd expected. It was always the magician who got one, not him. And who the hell would want to visit him anyway?

During his first protests, the nurse had been telling him to behave since it wasn't nice to be sour to girls, so he knew it had to be a girl that was visiting. There were a few of those Kurogane knew could show up as a "visitor" for him, all of which were annoying. Some were worse than others too. He could probably handle if Sohma showed up, and maybe Amaterasu, but when it came to Tomoyo-hime... she was already hard to handle normally, no matter what world she came from. The Piffle version had been pretty much the same, just raised differently. If he saw her, even a fake her, she would probably be just the same and he'd have to at put up with it no matter what.

Eventually he chose to take a seat, knowing that he would not be leaving any time soon. Of course, he picked the one that was furthest into the corner to avoid unwanted conversations. He would already have to deal with a visitor; he shouldn't have to deal with anything more.

Comments

[boyking]

Well, this was unexpected. Sam sure as hell hadn't anticipated someone he didn't know at all dropping by for a visit. His first thought was demon because what else was it usually when strangers strolled over as if they knew him? But demons were different. Walked different, held themselves differently. This guy was moving through almost like he didn't belong. He looked kinda film noir in a way, trench coat and all, and hair that seemed as if he didn't bother to do anything but run his hand through it right after he rolled out of bed.

Sam watched the man approach, gaze somewhat wary. He took the time he had to decide whether or not he should play along for now and pretend like he actually knew this guy. His visitor certainly seemed to, a casual nod that indicated they were familiar, at the very least. Familiar, but still distant, maybe. No hello, no wave.

Could be the man just wasn't the type, though.

In the end, Sam just nodded back when it seemed the man wasn't going to come any closer. There was no point in letting on more than that until he could figure out the situation further. Unconsciously, he relaxed a little as he leaned forward. He could deal with a stranger and all the questions that came with who this stranger was and why he was here. If he had to admit, it might even be a nice distraction.

[damned-visitors.livejournal.com]

It wasn't much of a greeting, but Derringer also hadn't told him to get out of his sight or leave him alone, so that was already proof that he was doing better. He obviously wasn't on the verge of a nervous breakdown anymore, which was definitely an improvement.

Maybe... he could start to reason with him.

He took the seat, staying on the edge of it as he clasped his hands together in front of him. He needed to appear open, at least somewhat, if he wanted Matt to start feeling comfortable.

"It's been a while," he started, mainly just to open up the conversation. "You probably already know this, but your brother's case has been dropped." Of course it had been -- that was what happened when people hadn't actually been murdered. Though he thought it was strange that the brothers had been put in the same facility, especially if Matt was continuing to insist that his brother was dead.

Either way, he needed to wait and get a feel for the man's mental state before he went any further with this.

[boyking]

Sam studied him carefully, neutral at first, but he couldn't help the slight raise of his eyebrows when the man mentioned his brother. Dean's case? As in, a legal case? He couldn't think of what else it could be. That made no sense, though; Dean was dead, and in more than just the legal sense. Despite his brother being here now, it didn't change—

But it looked like pretending he knew this guy or what he was talking about wasn't an option here. Too much to catch up on. He'd only be left with more questions, even if he could pull it off.

Besides, mental institution, right? Running the risk of looking crazy wasn't exactly his biggest concern under the circumstances. If it bought him sympathy, if it bought him information, he could run with it.

He cleared his throat and flashed an apologetic smile. Until he knew for sure the man was a definite threat, playing it hostile wasn't gonna get him anywhere.

"I'm sorry," he murmured. "You're going to have to refresh my memory. What case is this exactly?"

The fact that the man even knew he had a brother in the first place was unsettling. It wasn't a secret, but it wasn't common knowledge, either, given their aliases and the way they slipped out of towns with hardly a trace. When it came to the general populace, the feds had been one of the few who knew their identities, but after what'd happened with Henriksen in Colorado, that had pretty much disappeared, too. So who was this guy?

[damned-visitors.livejournal.com]

That was... unexpected.

The man tilted his head, simply staring at Derringer for a good few seconds before he made any further reaction. He could generally read people and tell when they were playing dumb (it was a necessity for his job), but Matt had just gone and thrown him for a loop. He had expected the man to possibly be delusional, but to not even recognize him?

At least the man hadn't said anything about not having a brother, but this was still worse than he'd even feared.

On the other hand, maybe it was better if Matt didn't remember. Having his memory jogged might make his condition worse -- it was possible he had repressed the memory as a healing mechanism.

Still, he couldn't approve of the man living a lie. That was the whole reason he'd decided to come.

"The search for your brother's murderer," he said at length. He couldn't leave it at that, though; couldn't leave any space for the man to cling back to his old beliefs. He made sure to stare Derringer straight in the face. "It was abandoned because he wasn't actually killed."

[boyking]

So that was what the man meant.

Dean had said that he'd been spun some fabrication that ran along the lines of the reality the djinn had crafted. If you removed the supernatural element from what'd happened to Dean, his brother being murdered and then discovered not actually dead was pretty damn close to the truth. Except without all the strings attached.

The pointed way the man said his last statement suggested something more, though, but Sam couldn't quite place a finger on it just yet.This was exactly why he'd wanted to get his hands on those damn files. It would've been really nice if he'd known what his alternate life was supposed to be.

"Right." He cleared his throat. "Right, of course."

He hesitated, trying to settle on the best way to get some answers without rapid-firing a bunch of questions. Had the "case" been dropped when Dean had shown up at the institute or earlier? Christ, he hoped not earlier. Either way, it'd be good to know, if he could find out for sure exactly how much time Dean had left before his soul was due.

"It was dropped—" How long had it been? When they'd first met up, Dean had mentioned he'd been gone for three days, which meant— "It was dropped about a week ago, wasn't it?"

His visitor must've been with some kind of law enforcement, then, if he was talking about homicide cases being dropped. Or at the very least, pretending to be law enforcement. It still didn't answer much by the way of who the man was and why he'd come here to talk about Dean specifically. Then again, when didn't it all come down to Dean?

[damned-visitors.livejournal.com]

That wasn't much of a reaction at all, and so he could only assume that Matt was merely trying to act like he remembered. He would have assumed that unwavering attitude if he actually recalled the whole situation -- unless being in this place had really calmed him down that much. The visitor was suspicious of both options, but he couldn't shake the feeling that Derringer didn't seem to know him at all.

Matt wasn't helping his case when he made a guess at dates and got it all wrong. The man frowned, his brow set as he took a breath.

"It's been three weeks," he said plainly, not one to sugarcoat what he said (not even with people who were unwell). He knew there was a chance that Matt had been out of it for so long that he honestly couldn't tell how much time had passed, but it was still hard to imagine that he couldn't account for two whole weeks.

"I thought you would have reacted more than this, Matt," he admitted, if only to see if he could pull some more emotion out of the man. This quiet caution didn't seem right. "You know that your brother is also here, correct? In this place, right within your reach. It's time to accept that he is still alive, Matt, and give him your help. Maybe it isn't my place to say, but I believe he needs it." It was a borderline lecture, but he felt that he had put up with Matt's delusions and obsessions for long enough that he was justified in trying to slap some sense into him now that the shoe had fallen.

[boyking]

At first, Sam wasn't sure he heard the man correctly. It made no sense, hadn't been something he'd suspected at all so that he was pretty much blindsided by this sudden revelation. Why three weeks? Three weeks ago, there'd been nothing. No word of Dean, no demonic gathering around Dean's burial site. He hadn't even been actively thinking about Dean three weeks ago, no more than what always lingered like a ghost in the back of his mind.

Besides, Dean's memory only extended to three days before Sam's arrival. If he'd been brought back before then, what the hell had happened to his memory? Then again, given what'd happened with Lelouch—Dean's memory wasn't exactly untouchable.

The hows and whys didn't make a difference. Dean was down three weeks and Sam could barely keep his brother safe on a nightly basis. Not for the first time, the feeling that he couldn't do this, knowing that when the year was up, he'd be responsible for letting hell take his brother all over again no matter what he did—he didn't know who decided it was too much for him to ask to have his brother alive without watching Dean slip through his fingers each time.

A few seconds passed before it registered that the man was speaking. His gaze flickered up a beat too late.

He studied the visitor before him carefully, tried to not let it show that it bothered him more than a little, the suggestion that he hadn't spent an entire year trying to help Dean and break that deal, that he wasn't doing enough. More so because he couldn't say the accusation was unfounded. He should've done more, should be doing more right now. Only he didn't know how or what.

It bothered him, too, Dean's death being brushed off as if it'd never happened. As if he'd imagined all of it, and God, he wish he had.

"I know he's here," he replied finally, frustration getting the better of him as he gave up the pretense of playing nice or the illusion that he even knew who this stranger was. "I don't know why you are, though. What makes you so interested in me and my brother?"

[damned-visitors.livejournal.com]

There it was -- a spark of that anger and obsession and refusal to listen who anyone who even attempted to help most of the time. Matt Derringer had fallen into a destructive downward spiral ever since his brother's suicide attempt, and in the end it had more or less put him in the same exact shoes.

The memory loss was still worrisome, but maybe an actual explanation of who he was would help. He would have thought just his face would be enough, but it seemed like Matt had gone ahead and dug himself into a deep pit. It remained to be seen if he could climb back out.

"My name is Michael and I was the head detective on your brother's case. You and I worked side-by-side often, trying to aide each other until I became more and more certain that you were chasing after a murderer who didn't exist. I attempted to reason with you, but..." The man glanced away for a moment, taking in the nurses and the institutional feel of the place.

"It appears I've failed." They both had.

[boyking]

From what Dean had told him about his experience with the djinn, it sounded as if the world had been occupied with people they already knew, only playing somewhat different roles. That Michael had introduced himself as such instead of Detective [Generic Surname] implied that Sam must've known him pretty well for awhile now. Well enough to be on a first-name basis. But both the name and the face were completely unfamiliar; he'd run into a few Michaels, sure, but there were people named Michael everywhere.

Of course, not everything had to mean something more, but when it came to the stuff in their lives, he'd be hard-pressed to find a situation where a temperature drop led to a sudden snowfall instead of being blindsided by a ghost two seconds later.

Or maybe thinking that way just made him feel a little less out of his depth. Though it wasn't really helping right now. All he had were bits and pieces of this so-called life, and Sam knew he didn't have the time to sit here and just question Michael when he wasn't even sure where to start. He hadn't been sure where to start with anything ever since waking up here, felt like he was fighting a war on four fronts and then some. The deal, the patients, the institute, Dean. Himself.

Sam shifted, feeling a sudden restlessness.

"For someone who's so certain I'm insane," he said, barest hint of irony around the edges, "you seem pretty convinced I can help my brother."

Was Michael a demon? Did it even matter? Sam could've checked, but a demon would've revealed itself sooner than this and if it made a difference what Michael was, he couldn't say what that would be. He didn't trust people any more than he trusted demons, and either side were just as prone to wanting him dead. And forcing a demon to show itself wasn't the best idea in a room full of civilians. That was just asking to have a pile of casualties. Demons couldn't touch him, but they could sure as hell touch everyone else, and Sam really wasn't willing to go there again, to find himself the only one who ever made it out unscathed.

[damned-visitors.livejournal.com]

It was true that they knew each other well, but that was more from exposure than anything else. Friends? No, they had been nothing like that. They'd been two men on the same path, plodding down it for different reasons, and only up to the point when he had realized that they were going in the completely wrong direction. Little lost lambs.

For that reason, the hostile attitude Matt was now taking with him didn't surprise the detective much. They had spent much of their time together half-arguing, so this fit in rather well with what he would expect from the man.

After a brief pause, Michael heaved his shoulders. "I believe it's more that the two of you need each other," he corrected. "I have no explanation for why your brother became suicidal - that's something you would need to ask yourself - but it seems clear that the moment he was out of your life, you were unable to live it normally anymore. You... threw everything to the side for the purposes of this search.

"Maybe it's even that you need him more than he needs you. Regardless, I think it falls on your shoulders to help him back to himself so that you can both get out of this place and back to your lives." He knew that he could sometimes overstep his bounds when it came to lecturing people, but Michael was only saying what he thought the other man needed to hear. If he hadn't gotten all of this through his head yet, then maybe harshness was the only option left.

[boyking]

And what the hell was Sam supposed to say to that? His first instinct was to deny all of it, retort that Michael didn't know what he was talking about, but it'd be a lie and he knew it. He just...never wanted to think on any of that much. What was the point? Maybe if there were other options around, but there really weren't, and Michael was talking like he had a choice, like he could have the safe, normal life he'd wanted so long ago and keep Dean at the same time.

Wasn't like he hadn't tried, either. At first, anyway, keeping in contact with friends at Stanford. Plans to head back to school, ignoring the abilities he had because they didn't make him human. But reality had pretty much demanded that he choose one or the other. Dean or everything else.

Not much of a debate there.

Sam watched the man for a moment before breaking eye contact, gaze not quite dropping, but shifting to a point just past Michael's shoulder.

Whoever Michael was, he was...unsettling. The way he was saying all the things Sam had spent a good part of his life avoiding acknowledgement of. Those thoughts that lurked at the back of his mind, the ones that said he had no idea where to go from there if Dean died again. That he had no idea where to go right now. There was a part of that just wanted to pass it on to Dean, let Dean figure out what to do, because that was the way it'd always worked for so long. Ever since they were kids. And he hated himself for it because he was supposed to be over it by now. He should've been handling this just fine without dumping all this crap for Dean to carry. His brother deserved a break for once.

So really, who was this guy to act like Sam hadn't known from the start that it fell on his shoulders to get them both out of this mess? That he hadn't exactly been having a picnic while Dean was gone? Unable to live your life normally, and the only thought that crossed his mind about that was, what life?

He glanced back. "So you're telling me to be there for him, is that it," he said, the edge of derision not so much for the concept as it was for the sheer obviousness of it.

Though maybe a little of it was a reflexive defensiveness, born out of the fact that it hadn't been lost on him, the moments of awkwardness between Dean and him that hadn't been there before. There was a distance. He could feel it. A distance that Sam was pretty sure was his fault. He just—he didn't know how to close it, if it was even possible to close. But he could keep it from widening. He could keep them from falling down the same road they had in the months after Dean's deal, arguing with each other when there was so much they should've...He wasn't doing that again.

[damned-visitors.livejournal.com]

It seemed that Matt had fallen into brooding, but that was probably a good thing. He needed to take a good hard look at himself and realize that there was a lot of work to be done. It wasn't Michael's position to tell him "this is how you should fix your life," but he could insist that it needed fixing in the first place.

Then again, that much should have been obvious. Matt and his brother had been locked up due to insanity, after all.

The scathing tone that the man shot back at him was noted, but brushed off. If it took getting the man angry to make him realize what needed to be done, then so be it. Michael hardly took it personally.

"I'm telling you that I watched as you almost forgot all about your actual brother in your quest to find his murderer -- a murderer who doesn't even exist. Now that you seem to realize that and are even in a place where you and your brother can finally speak, I would imagine it would be in your best interest to mend whatever bridges have been broken." He really didn't know much about the relationship between the two, but it was obvious enough to him that their mental health hinged on each other.