damned_institute | DAY 45: Sun Room (Second Shift)

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DAY 45: Sun Room (Second Shift)

There was something fishy going on in the Institute today. All over the bulletin board, people were talking about having "woken up", having been "cured"... and it seemed as though ZEX was one of them. Tanaka wouldn't have recognized the note at all if it hadn't been signed - his wording, his handwriting, even his name had changed - and a part of him still wondered if it had been an imposter, trying to pull the wool over the Captain's allies.

But it'd be easy enough to find out the truth. Whoever it was had agreed to meet him, and Tanaka was waiting for him just outside the cafeteria doors, ready to catch him as he came from breakfast. If "Max" was an imposter, then he'd discover the identity of a hidden enemy. And if he was really ZEX...

...well, he'd have a whole new set of things to worry about.

[for a ~~spoiled rich brat~~ brainwashed Admiral]

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"Shut up."

This time there was more than coldness in the man's voice- this time it was downright hostile. Forte could have been screwing him around, or trying to be cute, or just plain old being a brat, but Aaron didn't even consider that.

His nurse was staring. Aaron let out a long breath, raked a hand through his hair stressfully and counted to ten (it never worked, but it was almost habitual by now). "That's Price to you." Detective Price, he wanted to say, but the odds of that ever being him again were laughable.

With the snap at Frank and his response, it was obvious he wasn't talking to 'Depth Charge' anymore. He sat back up, with a twinge of pain in his side again, to get a better look at the other man.

"So, I guess you're feeling... yourself, today, too?" Frank's first impulse was to say 'feeling better' but that definitely wasn't the right word. He was saner than he could remember being in weeks, but felt like crap, it sounded like Aaron Price wasn't having much fun either.

Aaron eyed Forte warily, weighing up the question before deciding on a response. As much as he wanted to pretend that kind of question wasn't even necessary... "Yeah. I am."

He paused. Forte... Depth Charge had been pretty worried about Forte, huh? There were a lot of emotions tangled up in the back of his subconscious Price didn't even know how to go about untangling, detached and distant like a star in the sky. Or a penny down a drain. It was disconcerting, knowing that someone else had been so in control of his thoughts and feelings for so long. "You got a name?"

Price was sizing up Frank as well, and he seemed unsure of how to respond. It was confusing, not sure how he should feel about the man, how much of their interaction was real or imagined. Forte felt like he owed Depth Charge his life, but that was for something that he thought happened when they were both safely locked in their rooms. On the other hand, he'd felt like they had so much in common, and here they were, both momentarily sane, and having to face reality. With a sigh, he gave up figuring how he should feel about Price, and just answered his question.

"Frank. And, sorry. I shouldn't have brought up... the thing." He'd have been pretty pissed too, if someone had thrown stuff that Forte had said back in his face.

Aaron hadn’t been expecting an apology; the tightness in his chest loosened up a little and he could think straight without seeing scarlet. You’re all hot air, Price. I’d say you were losing your edge, if I thought you had one to begin wi-“It’s fine,” he lied quickly.

Trouble was, was that Aaron Price talking or Depth Charge? The latter had spent the best part of three days convinced For- Frank was dead and in mourning, whereas the former had barely any idea of who he was talking to. Looked like the kind of punk kid he used to deal with as a patrolman, but who was to say, in a place like this?

And then there were the injuries. Depth Charge would’ve told him they were from a giant cat attack, but if he didn’t realise that was bullshit now he was never getting out of here. Time to put that ghost to rest; taking a deep breath, Aaron nodded at the crutches. “How’d you do that?”

How did he get hurt? "Y- uh.." Frank started to say something but cut himself off, remembering that it was a dream, and Price probably wasn't even there. "I don't know, I blacked out for a few days, and don't remember what really happened. Probably just hurt myself trying to escape."

Aaron stiffened as his mind automatically filled in the blanks of Frank's abandoned sentence: You should know. And yeah, he did know, but there was no way he was letting himself acknowledge of of it as real in any way. Ordinarily this was the part where he was supposed to interrogate the hell out of the kid- 'hurt himself trying to escape'? Was he serious?- but that would mean picking holes, and, goddamnit, he was not about to pick holes in his own sanity.

"Figures." He sat up a little on the sofa, rubbing a hand through his hair to try and fix it where it had ruffled at the back. "So you're gonna be getting out soon?" He didn't know why he was asking or why he should care, but there was still that part of him that thought he should and Aaron just wasn't up to arguing with it.

Frank saw Price stiffen when he answered. He assumed that something had happened and he saw it through the crazy-filter, or he just forgot it and replaced it with a too-real dream and Forte couldn't tell the difference. Either way, it looked like Price was involved in some way. Was he there, did he know what really happened or would he remember some monster too? On second thought, who cared, Frank wasn't a detective.

The next question was a much tougher one. Frank leaned back and closed his eyes. He stared at that face again, and thought about what he'd said to the crazy guy in the cafeteria. "I... doubt it. I can't remember what's real and what isn't." Thinking about ending that man's life, the blood running down his chest... his stomach twisted, and he felt the guilt on him like a weight, like the world was trying to crush him in place. He wanted it to stop, to be someone else that didn't feel like that all the time.

He opened his eyes again and realized he was grimacing. "No, this is probably where I belong."

Edited 2009-11-11 00:02 (UTC)

But if this was where Frank belonged, where did that leave him? He'd let reality slip away from him too; hell, even now he was having trouble working out what was what, and he was a damn police officer. There was no way he was going to still be here in a way, no fucking way, and... and...

Aaron watched the expressions run across Frank's face like a late tide lapping at the beach- hesitation, disgust, guilt, maybe even a little fear, too- and felt a strange stab of guilt. Here he was, looking at some kid fucked up enough to have to spend what he figured was the the rest of his life in a mental hospital, and all he could think about was himself. Protect and serve my ass.

"Maybe," he said eventually, purely for the sake of giving an answer. He couldn't look Frank in the eye anymore.

Frank was starting to think about what he would do if he got out... if there was anything left for him after this episode...

Blech. Forget it. He was talking to people so he wouldn't have to think about that crap.

He looked back up at Price, losing his serious expression. "So, what about you? Think you're getting better, got things to do when you get out?"

"Something like that," Price answered vaguely. Now he couldn't even look at Frank- there too much danger of his expression giving him away of the kid could see his face. When, if, he got out, if he could just get his act together enough to make nice with the nurses and charm the hell out of the doctors, he was getting back on that bastard's trail and this time he was going to do a better job of not getting caught at it. Just so long as he was in control of the situation he wouldn't have anything to worry about.

His eyes flickered briefly back to Frank. "Just... unfinished business." There was a finality to the way that he said the words that indicated that the case (no, the matter, the case was still open) was closed. No arguing.

Before Frank could reply, the announcement came on to signal lunch. With little help from a nurse, he got himself back upright again, to shuffle into the cafeteria again. All this back-and-forth was easier in the wheelchair!

He looked back at Price again, "Alright, well... good luck." They were both pretty deep in their own problems, but talking to Price just now, he seemed like an alright guy. And if he needed to get out so he could do whatever (it sounded like he had a score to settle), then more power to him.

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DAY 45: Sun Room (Second Shift)

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