damned_institute | Dayshift 49: Bus 2

Morning hit without warning, with the sheer knowledge hitting the Digimon before anything else that today they were going back to Doyletown. Her feet hit the floor and she rotated her right shoulder experimentally. The skin stretched tight, soreness persevering, but it moved fine. She stretched her fingers then curled them into a fist, staring at the tanned skin that was her right arm. If something happened this time... She would be more useful. Her mind replayed the events of last week, and Renamon stilled, considering.

There wasn't much time left to her as the nurse bustled in with an armful of clothes, the same shade as the weeks before. The woman murmured a cheery complaint that it was too cold for skirts and left Renamon to change. The pants were preferable to the past two weeks, though the other item she was left with gave too much to irony. She frowned at it for a minute, then slid it over her head, reflecting that this motion in days or weeks past would have left her shuddering. It meant she was becoming used to this human body, and that was nothing that boded well. She grabbed her notebook before being led to a bus, and slid into a seat halfway down the aisle, pressing against the window. Again, the previous night had been more than short. Was it just her, or was there something more to it?

[for Haseo!]

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Heiji sucked in a breath, taking it in shaky gulps as though his lungs were the size of his fist. Shinichi was right, he had to tell someone before he ended up completely shutting down and causing another scene on the bus. He tried to still his hands by gripping the fabric of his jeans.

"W-We were going t'th'ki-kitchen. Me 'n Sen 'n this other guy she'd seen b'fore. 'N we were in th'Sun Room, 'n suddenly th' doors locked--" His voice hitched, remembering how panicked he was at being locked in with whatever it was. "--Th-they locked, and, 'n then th'lights all went out. 'N th'other guy started actin' weird. C-comin' at me wi-with a machete.

"'N I thought I was dead. I thought I was gonna die, 'cause I knew I couldn' fight 'im. He was a patient, 'n he was better'n me, and fucking possessed or driven or somethin' and..." Heiji's hands started shaking again. Recalling this was possibly harder than living it. The adrenaline was rushing through him, and his thoughts and feelings seemed almost magnified. Because he knew his panic had been justified. He knew now that he came so close to death, but somehow Sen had protected him.

But maybe things could have been different if he'd just attacked to save his own life. Maybe Sen would still be alive.

"He hit me, here," Heiji said, awkwardly patting his gauze. "And I jus'... blacked out. I thought I was dead, I thought he was gonna kill me an' you and Kuroba an' Okita an'... an' ev'ryone would never know an'..."

Shinichi found himself entering detective mode more and more. It was easier this way. He wanted to detach himself completely, treat Heiji like any other victim, but he knew he couldn’t. This was too close to home. Seeing Heiji like this was incredibly painful. It clouded his judgment, made him less objective. He had to remove himself, if only just a little.

He would help Heiji find Sen’s killer. He owed his friend that much.

The detective looked at the bandages, nodding. Heiji was lucky to be alive, and the other boy knew it. He was still obviously in shock, and the drugs probably weren’t helping any. They needed to keep taking this slow. That was okay. They had all the time in the world as far as Shinichi was concerned, nurses be damned.

“Hattori, the man who attacked you. Can you remember what he looks like? Do you think he’s one of the patients?”

"Y'r not list'nin'," Heiji said, as sharply as his fogged mind would allow, which wasn't very sharp. If anything, he sounded like a tired four-year-old in need of a nap. "He was a patient, but he didn' have any reason t'attack us. Somethin' in th'room... somethin' messed wi'im. Made the lights go out 'n covered up the moon. And there was like... hair. On the walls. Or s'methin'... Somethin' that... made it all move."

Though what was actual fact and what was Heiji's drugged mind feeding him strange information, he couldn't sort out. But he could've sworn the walls were moving. And seriously, what would've caused Sai to attack like that besides something that could snuff out flashlights and lock doors automatically? Unless Sen had some kind of problem with Sai, which didn't make much sense.

"An' if Sen had a probl'm wi'th'guy, why'd she let'im come t'the kitchen wi'us? Doesn'... make sense t'let an enemy wander 'round wi'ya inta a possible fight--too many... opportunities t'... t'accident'ly stab y'in'th'back."

“What, do you mean, messed with him?” Shinichi asked, puzzled. Heiji wasn’t making any sense. Something blotted out the moon, and…hair? Was it possible that the patient had just snapped, and in his injured/sedated state, Heiji was imagining things? It seemed likely.

He sighed. “I don’t think that Sen would be that careless, no,” he agreed. She was—<>was; it was still so hard to grasp—a samurai chick from the Bakumatsu, wasn’t she? And now she was dead. Killed by a psycho patient. That much, Shinichi understood. God. Did Okita know? Did they want Okita to know? Shinichi sure as hell wasn’t going to be the one to break the news.

At any rate, Heiji wasn’t doing very well right now. Not by a long shot. Shinichi knew he had to keep interviewing, but part of him wanted to spare his friend the pain of reliving it, at least until the drugs had finished passing through his system. “Do you want to stop talking about it until the sedatives wear off? You can try to sleep for a bit, if you want. I’ll wake you up when we get to town.”

Heiji was getting frustrated by his apparent inability to explain exactly what had happened in a way that was clear and concise. Shinichi wasn't understanding that this hadn't looked like a voluntary act of murder on the part of the patient, and Heiji wasn't able to articulate that when he was so drugged he couldn't think straight. He could only think in circles, which was getting both detectives nowhere.

Shinichi's suggestion that he wait until the drugs had been worked out of his system was probably the best alternative left to Heiji. He could better explain when he wasn't feeling so sick and tossed around. The motion of the bus would be enough to make him heave.

"Yeah..." he managed after a long, thought-chasing pause. The Osakan detective folded his arms and leaned on Shinichi. He'd lost Sen so quickly, would he lose everyone as quickly as he'd lost her?

"Don' go nowhere," Heiji muttered. A quiet entreat to his friend, and a plea to whatever was playing around with their fates in this upscale medical hell.

Shinichi smiled and put his arm around Heiji’s shoulders in a totally not-gay way. (He was just comforting his friend, okay?! There was a difference. Plus, Heiji was the one who was snuggling up to him right now…) “It’s not like I can go anywhere,” he pointed out, but he didn’t move. In a way, he was relieved that Heiji had decided to wait until the drugs had worn off to keep talking. It was a lot easier on both of them.

“I won’t leave you here to rot, Hattori,” the other detective said eventually. He didn’t even know if Heiji was still awake enough to even hear him. “How can you keep this idiotic rivalry going if we’re not constantly trying to upstage each other?

“We’ll stick together. I promise.”

Totally. Not. Gay.

Dayshift 49: Bus 2

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