http://hes-deadjim.livejournal.com/ (![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png)
hes-deadjim.livejournal.com) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
damned_institute2010-05-15 02:15 pm
hes-deadjim.livejournal.com) wrote in damned_institute2010-05-15 02:15 pm
Entry tags:
- depth charge,
- hayes,
- kadaj,
- kibitoshin,
- matt,
- mccoy,
- prussia,
- reeve,
- the scarecrow,
- two-face,
- venom
Night 49: M41-50 Hallway
McCoy hadn't managed to get any sleep this time, instead spent the rest of the dinner nearly pacing with a nervous energy that seemed to to well up out of nowhere. He could feel it this time, his mind starting to drift on its own, back to those half-remembered thoughts earlier in the day, the ones that had had involved Chekov, Sulu. He couldn't remember the full details, he might as well have attempted to go catching smoke for all the good trying did, but it had something to do with their promotions. Sometimes Jim drifted in there, carrying some scars he didn't remember him having, and for some reason, the thought of him prompted a sense of wariness that shouldn't have been there.
He resisted actually pacing. He'd settled for lying on the bed and trying to get some rest. It was the sensible thing to do, because who knew how many hours they were actually getting of rest here? Humans needed a certain amount. He wasn't any different. And getting a few hour's shut-eye might be just the thing for the way he'd drifted off today and just now.
McCoy found himself instead staring at the ceiling, hands folded over his chest. There was that strange sensation that his limbs weren't quite long enough, his body temperature too low even though McCoy knew it was perfectly fine for a human. The room felt overly small, growing warmer by the minute...
The doctor was on his feet the moment the intercom sounded, relief flooding through him. He couldn't say he liked the sound of changes when it came to the Head Doctor. But to get out of this room and get his mind on work, instead of allowing it free reign to wander? An idle mind was a devil's workshop, something he'd learned in his youth.
He gathered his things quickly and stepped out into the hallway.
[to here]
He resisted actually pacing. He'd settled for lying on the bed and trying to get some rest. It was the sensible thing to do, because who knew how many hours they were actually getting of rest here? Humans needed a certain amount. He wasn't any different. And getting a few hour's shut-eye might be just the thing for the way he'd drifted off today and just now.
McCoy found himself instead staring at the ceiling, hands folded over his chest. There was that strange sensation that his limbs weren't quite long enough, his body temperature too low even though McCoy knew it was perfectly fine for a human. The room felt overly small, growing warmer by the minute...
The doctor was on his feet the moment the intercom sounded, relief flooding through him. He couldn't say he liked the sound of changes when it came to the Head Doctor. But to get out of this room and get his mind on work, instead of allowing it free reign to wander? An idle mind was a devil's workshop, something he'd learned in his youth.
He gathered his things quickly and stepped out into the hallway.
[to here]
no subject
Oh my goodness, oh my goodness, oh my goodness, oh my goodnesss-
He'd tried so hard all day! There wasn’t an inch of Doyleton Kibitoshin hadn’t scoured, not a single building he’d left unsearched, not one stone he’d not turned, and still, still he couldn’t find either Trunks or Dahlia. He’d even spent most of the trip wriggling around in his seat trying to get a better look at everyone else on the bus, and even on the buses he could just about see outside of his window. There was a chance they’d been left back at the Institute, yes, but… but…
This was hopeless. He didn’t have their fake names, so he couldn’t even ask his nurse about them. Why couldn’t he have been more organised, or better prepared, or-- or anything like that, like Haseo had told him to be? How had he managed to let them both slip away from him? Even worse, what kind of a guardian did that make him?
He slunk back down into his seat, staring dejectedly down at his desk. It was night, but the thought of going out all by himself was just unbearable. Goodness only knew, if he couldn’t even take care of two people, his own chances must have been pretty pathetic. But at the same time, the thought of sitting around all night was even worse. Somehow, he hadn't quite realised just how lonely it would be, all by himself. How did Franziska do it, night after night?
W-well... even if he was probably the worst guardian in the entire universe, he still had to do something. Even if it meant just getting in someone else's way or being a burden. There had to be something he was good at. Didn't there?