Day 44: breakfast

[thatdamnedninja.livejournal.com]

Yuffie had died.

No, really. Seriously. She had actually died. Bleeding all over the place, making a horrid, sticky mess and scaring the hell out of Suzaku; she remembered it clearly. Kind of. Sort of. Through the blood loss, the pain, and the visions. Through Aerith's voice whispering in her ear, Cloud's stricken eyes, and her own panic. As bad nights went, it had been Bad, capital B and all the trimmings, and oh, god. She sat, trembling on the edge of her bed, eyes closed and hands pressed hard over her racing heart. The by-play between Landel—Landel!—and Lydia barely even sunk in. There was nothing in the whole world, any world, that could prepare you for something like…

Had it all been some kind of hallucination?

Had she imagined the whole thing?

No… She didn't think so. Nightmarish or not, Yuffie knew reality. But if it had been real, how was she alive now? That kind of pain wasn't something you could just cook up, was it? She thought about it all the way to the cafeteria, drifting behind her nurse without focus or intent. Maybe if she tried to stay clinical, tried to step back… But she'd never been good at that when things got personal. And every time she closed her eyes or blinked, she swore that the scenes played back to her, like an overused commercial on a crappy channel on a crappy TV, in a run-down dump of an inn that smelled like mothballs and yesterday's breakfast.

The scent of blood and damp, rotted wood clogged her nose. Disgusted, Yuffie shoved her bowl of cereal—handed to her by a clucking Plucky—off to the side so that she could melt into her chair, palm heels scrubbing against her eyes. Too much. This was… Too much. She couldn't even paste a plastic smile on her face to make herself feel better. Her usual shield, the white noise of inane babble that could filter out almost any crisis, was in tatters all around her. Five minutes, she gave herself.

Five minutes (not) to think, five minutes to get her act together, because there was no way she could let herself shatter here. No way…

[Closed to Sheena]

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[moral-liberty.livejournal.com]

Kaworu thought back on that moment, and how strange it had been to consider such a possibility. He had never conceptualized something like that, although he had spent his whole life being watched. There had always been someone taking notes in the corner of the room, through a window, across the examination table. He had never felt violated, nor had he wanted for privacy, because there was nothing to protect. Kaworu himself had been blank for most of that time, with only brief experiences to punctuate his memory. Otacon, it appeared, had never witnessed those years of nothing. Instead, he had seen something during the last few days.

What had Otacon thought, when Kaworu had died on a television screen? Dying seemed much less important than the silent elevator ride up to the apartment Kaworu had been given. Realizing that he had been given a stocked kitchenette, and then the relief that Shinji knew what to do with the food. Shinji insisting he be allowed to sleep on the floor. Moments he had laid in bed, listening to Shinji, somewhere between wakefulness and sleep. What part had Otacon seen? Which was most important?

"No," he said with a sad smile, though it was not Otacon's knowledge that bothered him. It was only the growing distance between himself and the past, which no one could stop. "It is only a fact, which cannot inherently be wrong or right. It is, or it is not. Either the repercussions or the intentions, then, are that which determine righteousness." Kaworu scuffed the toe of his slipper on the floor in an unseen move that was very much like any other teenager trying to collect their thoughts. He remained otherwise serene.

"You are afraid you have upset me," Kaworu theorized. "But you have never done so. You have a kind heart, and your intentions were not cruel. So why do you think it was wrong?"

[141-12.livejournal.com]

Otacon laughed, somewhat self-consciously. "Ah, well..." His shoulders had relaxed when Kaworu absolved him, but there was still something about the young man, something he couldn't read. Paradoxically, he was finding that the nuances of a person's features were a good deal more difficult to read than those of an anime drawing. You'd think more details would make it easier to catch subtleties.

"Most people actually wouldn't be too happy to know that they're thought of as... fictional by someone else." Otacon toyed with his fork again, but seemed more thoughtful than nervous now. "And they don't need me adding to their existential angst either. It's probably bad enough that I know all these personal details about other patients. I mean, it's not just you I've recognized in this place."

Assuming those names on the bulletin board really did correspond to the characters he knew. Judging from the arguments he'd seen between several of them, Otacon was almost certain they were. It felt like a strange, uncomfortable invasion of privacy — in his head was information he could've used maliciously if he so desired, but a lot more that didn't serve any purpose. Just scenes of a person's life, meant to flesh out a character, not be held over their head as blackmail.

Not that he was even thinking about it. Like both Fox and Kaworu had said, Otacon was too kind-hearted to ever use this kind of information to hurt people. But still, he didn't trust himself to hide it well. He'd never hidden anything well, as Kaworu could likely attest to.

Otacon speared a piece of fruit on his toast. "I'm not sure being thoughtless is much better than cruelty when it comes to intentions. Sometimes it's worse, even. If you were someone else, what was an accident on my part could've just aggravated the mental and emotional torture you've already gone through in this place. I don't see how knowing that I know too much about them could help anyone."

[moral-liberty.livejournal.com]

Kaworu was momentarily fascinated by Otacon's eating habits. He considered trying to imitate him, but in the end decide not to, and ate his fruit without any toast attached to it. It tasted fine, though he was as unenthusiastic about eating as ever.

"I am only myself," Kaworu said simply. "You have helped me see beyond my life." But after he spoke, Kaworu considered whether or not this was what Otacon wanted to hear. He didn't know if it was enough to convince him that what he had done was not misguided, to wipe away the tension and sadness in his face. Kaworu's explanations had never been able to comfort Shinji either. Others had reacted strangely to him, and stared at him with apprehension when he spoke. It was difficult to know where he stood with Lilim. He heard them talking happily to one another, but so often around him there was a quiet tremor, or a complete withdrawal. Fear of what he said, or perhaps that they would hurt him. He wasn't sure.

"You worry frequently, and fear to tread where you could possibly hurt someone. There is no way to avoid causing others pain, because it is the nature of living. Even if you love them," he said, staring into the pores of a strawberry intently. "You cannot help what you know or what you are. If this is injurious to others, could you change yourself? Would you even wish to?"