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

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

"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.

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"Y- you were here?" he asked, honestly surprised. "Surely they wouldn't send you to a place like this? It's dangerous here! No place for a young lady like yourself."

He put more thought into that statement. "Well, it's not now, anyway. Maybe it wasn't like this when you were here. But why were you sick? Did the trip home make you ill somehow?"

-- Not nearly as well. Dorothy began to look a little bit uncomfortable.

"You can't remember it at all? I came here because of -- "

She hesitated, again, this time because she didn't like to think of how delusional she had been -- how she had imagined her friends as a scarecrow and -- well, sort of a robot, really -- and a lion that could talk, how she had thought that the glitter-encrusted red party shoes Aunt Em had bought for her at Wal-Mart for her birthday could do magic. How she'd tried to change her own life into a fantasy, like Alice in Wonderland, to make her feel more special. Kansas could never be a wonderland.

"Because I couldn't remember where I should be after I got hurt in the tornado. I was real mean to Miss Gulch, too."

"You couldn't remember?" he asked, now both confused and a little worried. Surely this was Dorothy! She was acting a little strange, but she seemed so much like her in every way. Well, almost every way. It was bizarre that she was treating him like he was the one with no brains when she couldn't seem to get her facts straight.

"Have you not got a brain in your head, Dorothy?" he asked. "You knew where you needed to go after that twister- you needed to go home to Kansas. Heck, that's why we went through all that trouble to get you home!"

She stared at him, a surprised, sad look. Her fingers tapped on the tabletop, showing her nervousness.

"I never left Kansas after the twister except to come here when the Doc thought he could help me. You know that. I was just talkin' a load of nonsense because I was sick."

"Sick?" he asked again as he leaned across the table, now visibly agitated.

He leaned back, wishing he could think more rationally, but to see one of his dearest friends acting like his homeland was some sort of make-believe due to an illness was beyond heartbreaking. "Why, this is the biggest load of nonsense I've ever heard. You're acting like we don't exist or something! Like the Oz and the Wizard and all of us never happened!"

Dorothy's gaze dropped to the table, and her hair swung into her face.

"But it did never happen. I mean, you and Zeke and Hickory exist, but all that stuff I made up with the Yellow Brick Road and the Emerald City -- of course I know now that it wasn't real." She sounded stubborn about it, as if she didn't want to be convinced that it was real -- she'd spent so long trying to convince herself that it wasn't that she didn't want to be confused again.

Maybe letting Doctor Landel fly her out here to visit Hunk hadn't been the best idea.

The Scarecrow frowned, not sure what to say. What could he say? She'd been forced to come here and was thoroughly convinced that her adventures had just been some figment of her imagination. Not only that, but they were apparently figments of his own creation as well? This just wasn't adding up.

"But how could it not be real, Dorothy?" he asked after a minute, trying to look her in the eyes. It wasn't going so well with the hair in her face, so he leaned across the table and brushed the stray strands back himself. "I mean, it'd be one thing if you were the only one to have imagined it, but I know I didn't imagine my entire existence. If that were the case, I would've surely put myself somewhere better than on a pole in the middle of a cornfield where I could be laughed at by crows."

When he brushed her hair back from her face, she looked up again; it looked like she was going to cry.

"I'm real sorry you believed my story, Hunk... maybe it made you sick, too... but your life is in Kansas on the farm with all of the rest of us. It always has been."

Her voice got quieter, as she tried to calm herself. "If you keep listenin' to Doc Landel, maybe you'll remember soon. Then you can come home."

Seeing her in this sort of a state was much, much more heart-wrenching than anything he'd experienced before. Not only was she talking about Oz in such a way, but now he'd gone and made her cry. His eyes glued themselves to his fiddling hands, unable and ashamed to look at her like this.

"Please don't cry, Dorothy," he pleaded quietly, still not looking at her. "I don't think I'm sick. I don't feel sick, though I'm not really sure what being sick is supposed to feel like, to be honest. I didn't even know what being hungry felt like until a few days ago."

He stole a glance at her, only to return his eyes to the table. "I don't know of any life in Kansas. It's not like you, who came to Oz knowing where you came from. There's just Oz for me. What is it exactly I'm supposed to be remembering?"

She gulped, trying to hold back the tears. It was even worse now that he wouldn't look at her.

"Nothing about Oz is real, Hunk. You're not a scarecrow; you've been workin' for Uncle Henry and Aunt Em since before I came to live there. You came here after you had a stroke -- you really don't remember any of it?

"Oz was just what I dreamed up when I was sick myself. I don't know why you remember the things I said when you don't remember the real things that happened to you."

There was a time when she would have been overjoyed that someone believed her; now, it was just discouraging.

This entire conversation was hard to swallow. Part of him desperately wanted to believe her, knowing she wouldn't lie to him- not intentionally, anyway. There was a chance this wasn't the real Dorothy, but she certainly seemed like her, enough that the Scarecrow himself couldn't tell the difference. It was more likely she'd been tricked somehow, or maybe enchanted to believe Oz wasn't real.

Another part of him didn't want to throw himself into any more doubt, though. He'd had quite a bit of that since he'd arrived at the Institute. He'd thought himself someone who was a clear-thinker, but he'd not been thinking well since he'd lost his diploma. He knew he should want to go home to the Emerald City, since he had duties and responsibilities, but he was admittedly enjoying the change of being human.

The thought that he might have been human all along was a little disturbing.

"I don't know anything about your aunt and uncle, aside from what you'd told us in Oz. Certainly don't remember stuff on my own. And I'm not even sure what a 'stroke' is, to be honest. But what you're saying is that you told me and the rest of your family about your... er, dream, and we believed it?"

She knit her hands together on the table and stared at them for a moment before gulping again.

"Yeah, I guess so. Nobody believed me at first... I never thought anyone believed me at all... but I guess now since your stroke it's all you can remember.

"When you got sick, they told me that a stroke is when things go wrong because your brain isn't getting enough blood. Maybe you won't walk right, or maybe you'll talk funny."

Her voice dropped to a level barely above a whisper.

"They told us you were real lucky to be alive and you'd need a lot of physical therapy. But Uncle Henry and Aunt Em want to hold your job until you can come back. They won't even hire a day laborer."

"Well, that... that would explain some things, wouldn't it?" he said nervously, his brain wandering back to the what-if-what-she's-saying-is-true tangent. "I do have a lot of trouble keeping on my feet, but I'm not used to being so stiff an all. I'm surprised Tin Man can move stand it at all."

He finally managed to bring his eyes to meet hers. "I really don't want your relations to go through any trouble on my behalf. Didn't you say things weren't going so well? I mean, if what you're saying is true and all, I may be in here for a long time. None of what you're saying is even vaguely familiar." Well, except for that part about something being wrong with his brain and him not walking right. Those parts were definitely close to home.

"It's brain damage, Hunk, but it should be real minor. If you can remember your life, they told us you'll be most of the way to recovery. Then it's just the physical therapy."

When he met her eyes, she gave him a stricken, earnest look, eyes shining with unshed tears. "It's no trouble. We all just want you to get better. I bet if you believe in yourself and listen to the people here, it won't take much time at all."

Brain damage sure didn't sound minor, judging by how easily he'd managed to get hurt already, but he decided not to voice his opinion there. She was already extremely worried about him- she really didn't need to hear about any of his injuries. His hand made its way to his shoulder- that wound was still quite sore.

He regretted meeting her eyes- that sad look made him want to stop defending himself. Maybe that woman who'd tried to warn him about the visitors had been right: the Institute sent someone who could and would affect him, whether she was trying or not. He was starting to wish they had sent the Witch after all.

"I guess I could give listening to the nurses another try," he said with a small smile. "Please, just don't look at me like that, okay?"

"All right. Like what?"

She was happy to see the smile, but then she frowned, biting at her lip. She missed Hunk, and even missed the Institute, but the visit itself was making her want to go home. Apart from all the familiar things around her, she wanted to hug Toto.

She'd noticed the hand going to the top of his arm. "Is somethin' wrong with your shoulder?"

The Scarecrow returned his hand to the table immediately, hitting the surface with a dull thunk. "Nothing's wrong- just... uh, just... " He paused as he honestly couldn't think of what he was trying to say, or what to say that wouldn't alarm her. He broke eye contact- that made fibbing a little easier. "Sleeping. I slept on it wrong."

He stiffened as he returned his eyes to her, seeing her still frowning. "And it's that look. You look so danged sad. Don't be! You said I was going to get better, right? Go home and see your aunt and uncle and Toto and whatever the other two's names were, right?"

He snatched her idle hand from the table. "Well, if you say I'm going to get better, I'll trust you."

Dorothy's face brightened immediately. She didn't seem to notice that he'd broken eye contact to fib to her; in the usual sense, she wouldn't suspect that of her friends and family, only of the bad people in the world.

"Of course you're going to get better! You're going to work hard at it, right?" She paused, then admitted, "I'm only sad because I don't understand why you can remember me but you can't remember anything else. But I know it's not your fault."

"Right," he agreed, not really sure how hard he could work at trying to remember something that seemed so wrong to him. He knew he was a scarecrow: his memories of Oz and his real body were so vivid. They couldn't be the concoctions of an ill mind when they were so real to him, could they?

Then again, there was that notion that she might not be the real Dorothy, but she also seemed so authentic- so much so that he was willing to say and do just about anything to try to please her, to wipe that sad look from her face. She wouldn't intentionally lie to him. He knew that much.

So what was the truth? That was what bothered him.

"Maybe I remember you since you were yourself in Oz," he said, trying to rationalize. "I mean, you keep calling me Hunk, when I know myself as the Scarecrow, right? It's not like Dorothy Gale from Kansas was any different in Oz, aside from the fact that she was lost."

She sighed, looking disappointed, although she didn't pull her hand away. She spoke in a very serious tone, weighty for a girl still in her early teens, only just old enough to be traveling alone.

"The difference is that Oz isn't real, Hunk. It never was. I made it up. That's all there is to it. I made it up because I was unhappy at school and at the farm. The nurses here told me I made it up because I wanted to escape, but I couldn't imagine anywhere real to escape to because I hadn't really been anywhere. Then I came here, and I guess it was like escaping too, except even though I liked it, I just wanted to go home.

Don't you want to go home too?"

The Scarecrow felt guilty the moment her question was uttered, releasing her hand and returning his to their fidgeting. That question had been plaguing his mind for a couple of days, and he still didn't know the answer. He knew what the answer should be, but that's where it got confusing.

It wasn't something he particularly wanted to admit to anyone here, especially since everyone else he'd met seemed like they wanted to go home. They had families, friends, lives to get back to. He had a kingdom he was fairly certain was running the same as always without him. He had friends as well, but he didn't see them as much as he'd like. He supposedly had friends in this life as 'Hunk,' though, and Dorothy was here. She was something he didn't have in Oz.

He wasn't comfortable telling anyone else in this place, but this was Dorothy. Who could he tell if not her? There were only two others he trusted as much, and he was silently thankful neither of them were in the Institute.

"I honestly don't know," he answered as his eyes fell, being completely truthful. "For me, home isn't Kansas or this life you say I'm supposed to be living- it's Oz. I've got things I should be doing there, but... this is an escape. I know you say it's some sort of a grand creation of your mind, but it's very real to me. It's all I know. Until I got here, I didn't know what it was like to sleep or feel hungry or hurt or any of that! No amount of brains can tell you what these are like- you have to experience them."

He turned his palms upward, his eyes on his hands. "I feel that if I go home, I'll go back to being a scarecrow- an unfeeling scarecrow. I should want this, but I just don't know. This is a guilty pleasure, and I wish it wasn't."

She looked both surprised and disappointed.

"No, Hunk, your home is in Kansas -- Kansas. When you were there you could sleep and get hurt just fine. You were never a scarecrow.

"Why can't you understand that this is the real world?"

All the conflicts in his mind were wearing on him. That part of him that wanted this to be reality and not just some sort of an escape was giving him a lot of pressure. Even worse was that he was actually entertaining the idea that it wouldn't be so bad if it turned out that he was somehow an insane man who'd been human all along, and had been living under some elaborate delusion he was a monarch made of straw and burlap.

Well, maybe it wasn't such a terrible idea after all. At least if what she was saying was entirely true, he'd have a home to go to- one with friends and a job that probably made him feel more useful than sitting on a throne watching folks who were seemingly capable of taking care of themselves. He'd wanted a brain so badly so he could do his crow-scaring job better, but ended up with a job that required even less thought the majority of the time.

Wait, what was he thinking? He shook his head, forcing those thoughts from his mind. He was seriously questioning everything he'd ever known was true, and it was alarming. He felt so gullible and naive.

He also felt more guilt hitting him. If home really was in Kansas... he kind of did want to go home.

"I need more time to think," he said, not sure how to put his jumbled thoughts and feelings into a coherent statement. "I feel like I've not got a brain in my head to think with, but I need more time to sort things out. Try and make sense of everything and whatnot. Don't you worry about me, okay?"

The smile began to dawn on her face again -- ingenuous and sincere. Of course, his feeling that he didn't have a brain in his head was just a symptom left over from his illness, right?

"I can't help but worry about you. I guess you have to take as much time as you need, but I wish it would go faster. Do you think it might go faster if you listen to the nurses?"

"I suppose it would," he said. "I've honestly not talked much to the nurses- just to the other patients. It can't hurt to try, though." He had yet to see any of the doctors he'd heard about as well, but he was now interested in what they would have to say about his life in Kansas.

"I'll try real hard to remember some stuff on my own," he promised with a nod and a smile, elated to see her smiling again. "I won't let you down! You just take care of your family and promise me that you'll not to get into any trouble while I'm away. You've got good folks to take care of you, I trust."

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

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