damned_institute | Day 50: Chapel

Entry tags:

Day 50: Chapel

The last thing Claude heard was the Head Doctor's voice faintly filtering into the corridors of the ship before he found himself tucked beneath the sheets of his bed. It took a moment to register he'd even changed locations, but then he he abruptly sat up, fought the wave of nausea that washed over him, and felt the blankets beneath his fingers. The room. He was back in his room now. Under different circumstances, he might have wondered if last night had been some horrid dream, but the sharp pain in his eyes gave him a rude awakening. Hissing through his teeth, Claude buried the heels of his palms against his lids, only to discover two cold compresses had been taped over them.

"Good morning, Thomas," he heard the nurse's cheerful voice from beside his bed. Her sudden presence nearly made him jump out of his skin, and he sharply turned toward the source of the greeting, heart beating rapidly in his chest. "I'm sorry you're not feeling well today, but hopefully you can still enjoy some of the activities we have planned."

'Not feeling well' was a bit of an understatement. His hand hurt, his stomach kept turning with every movement, and it felt like someone had dumped a bunch of sand into both eye sockets. Right now, Claude just wanted the nurse to leave him be, but it didn't look like that was an option. Taking his uninjured hand, she gently tugged him out of bed, despite his protests that, no, really, he just wanted to stay in and sleep, please.

"I think getting out of your room a little bit will do you good," she told him. "I'm sorry your eyes are probably hurting, though. If you're ever feeling uncomfortable, don't hesitate to ask one of us for some pills."

"What about eye drops?" Claude asked tightly.

"Oh, no, too much of that could damage your eyes," she cautioned, and the sheer irony of the situation hit Claude so hard that it would have been laughable if he didn't already feel like crying right then. The nurse was as oblivious to it as always, however. "I know you usually go into the chapel during this shift. Would you like to go there again?" Claude didn't answered immediately, but that didn't deter the nurse. "Yes, I think that sounds best..."

In truth, he probably should have requested the sun room -- it was closer, for one, which meant the nurse didn't have to lead him as far of a distance. For another, lying down on one of their sofas sounded like a good option. But by the time Claude came to that conclusion, he was too stubborn to say anything, and he made his way up to the second floor, his footing slow, but steady.

The nurse deposited him on one of the central pews, next to the aisle, before leaving him to himself. Thankfully, it was still early in the shift. As he paused to listen, the room was mostly silent, save for the footsteps and hushed voices of the occasional staff member or patient who trickled in. But it was probably only a matter of time before others came. For some reason, the thought of being stuck in a crowded room made him tense, not necessarily because he thought anyone would pay him any mind, but because he simply didn't want it right then.

Somehow, the full implications of what happened last night hadn't sunken in: experiments, healing himself, the issue of whether he could actually go home after this, not being able to see, the ship, father. Instead, he just felt saturated with all of it, paralyzed by the horror of what they'd done to him, and the uncertainty of what it all meant beyond this moment. Claude took a shuddering breath, uninjured hand balling into a fist in his lap.

[For Guy.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Mello woke up roaringly pissed off, the head doctor's voice over the intercom blending together with the last thing he remembered from the insanity of the night: Matt's snarkiness as Mello had followed him out of the cafeteria. They'd landed in the game room, he thought, but everything after that graded into grey, then black. Except for his anger, which still burned red-hot. Fuck you, Matt, he thought, all the more vehemently for having been cheated out of saying it to the prat's face.

Maybe you've lost your touch - but I sure haven't, the prat had said. The worst part was that he'd intuited something was wrong almost immediately. So will L, next time you see him, Mello thought. Probably, everyone knows. Especially the people who knew the other one.

He needed to do more, was all. That had always quelled that whisper in the back of his mind before, and it would do it now, if he could do enough. It would. He forced himself to sit up, already tired of fighting a battle with his own mind on top of everything else. The opportunities last night had afforded, squandered or not, were past now. No sense dwelling on them. A small light cut through his gloom when he realized that everything he'd managed to collect was still here. Even the gun, thank god. Two bullets were better than none.

A glance at the other bed to see if the insufferable roommate was still asleep, and Mello secured everything under the mattress--and there, right where he never would have expected it, was the pipe he'd upended the mattress in his old room looking for. It would've been funny if it weren't so stupid.

Another day, another round of idiocy from Landel's. The visitors would obviously be fakes of some sort, and as for the suggestions, were they fucking kidding with that? He considered scribbling, Drop the damn act, and let us fight it out with you, and actually chuckled, right as the door opened, and the perky bane of his daytime existence came in.

"It's nice to see you smiling, Michael," she chirped, so of course, Mello immediately scowled. It didn't derail her cheer. "You'll have a lovely brunch later, but right now, you get to choose!" She said this as if he ought to have thought it was Christmas and his birthday rolled into one. He let the frown settle in for the long haul. "Would you like to go to the chapel, or to the sun room?"

"Chapel." Less chance of running into Matt, or, come to think of it, L, there.

Mello hadn't been a believer in a long time. He was still faintly annoyed, a wavelet in the tossing sea of annoyance, by the chapel here, everything watered down to the point of being meaningless. He sat in one of the pews, consciously sprawling, and thumbed idly, discontentedly, through one of the insipid hymnals.

[for Kagura! <3]

For Kagura, the night had ended quickly. She'd only run into Haine for a short time before she was awake in her bed again and there'd been no Bridget or Ritsu. She took a few deep breaths before she pushed herself out of bed. They couldn't have left her behind, could they? She sighed quietly as the nurse arrived and when asked where she wanted to go, the chapel seemed as good a place as any. Quiet, at the very least.

Most of the patients already had people to talk to, but she saw that Mello hadn't anyone to sit with. He'd always treated her nicely and he did seem a little upset? Or maybe he was just concentrating on his hymnal? Either way she bowed slightly before taking a seat a polite distance from him. Unlike his sprawling, she sat rigidly, her posture perfect and learned after years of a strict upbringing.

"Good morning Mello-san. Ah, I... I hope it's alright if I keep you company for a bit?"

Kagura, the girl who thought he was nice. Mello wondered if someone predisposed to like him, for whatever bizarre reason, would notice a difference. The last time they'd talked, he'd been focused on what use he could make of her. Now, it was sobering to think that this shy and awkward girl seemed to have found a way of coping with Landel's better than he'd managed to.

She'd been here longer than a lot of the people he'd met. Surely she knew something about the torture sessions. But small talk first; it couldn't hurt for her to stay deluded. Mello set the hymnal aside. "Hey, Kagura. Did you end up anywhere interesting last night? My-- We found this crazy, huge room with fancy doors." There was a slight hesitation where he would have said 'my friend and I.' Matt didn't deserve the title right now.

"No idea what that one was about." He gave a short laugh.

He seemed alright with her staying, so she did relax, if only slightly, smiling faintly as she listened. A fancy door? She looked down for a moment, trying to place it, then slowly shook her head.

"I'm sorry, I don't think I've seen anything like that before. Ah- but I do have some maps. The only big room like that is downstairs I think," she tried, folding her hands in her lap. "I didn't get very far at all. I was going to go visit my cousin and my friends, but they weren't where we agreed to meet. I really hope they're ok."

The last was said as calmly as she could, attempting to push shaky emotions out of her voice. She didn't need to burden Mello with her problems, but she was concerned, still not having found any of them.

"I'm sure they're all right," Mello said automatically. It took no effort at all on his part, so why shouldn't he?

It was sounding more likely that the room had been at the Institute, after all. If he'd concluded anything about the guiding philosophy behind this place, it was that nothing was benign. That room was there for a reason. He and Matt could-- No, they couldn't. Mello was determined to wait for an apology. Right. The guy who's dead because of you is the one who should be sorry. He suppressed a sigh. Shut the hell up.

"There was another weird room." He'd have to tread carefully into this topic, and he curled his hands, resting on his legs, into the fabric of the ugly sweats to keep from making any sort of betraying motion towards the back of his neck, where the bandage had been replaced with a smaller one since last night. "It didn't have anything in it but a surgical chair, but it was still creepy as hell." He glanced over at Kagura, seemingly casually, but watching closely for a reaction to this description. "Do you know anything about that room?"

Mello might be sure; he didn't even seem all that worried, but Kagura couldn't let it go so easily. She'd have to keep a sharp look out for them, and putting up a bulletin post later wouldn't be a bad idea either. Hopefully Mello really was sure and not just brushing off the concern.

"A weird room?" she repeated. Why would he ask about the rooms unless he'd been in them? But then, he'd only known a little about the rooms downstairs, so maybe he just needed some help figuring them out.

"Mm. That might be the place they take people at night. When they do those awful, awful things to them," she shook her head. Enough of her friends had been taken or vanished that it wasn't something she wanted to think about, but maybe it was one of Mello's friends?

"Did something bad happen to one of your friends? Did they get taken away?"

"They took my roommate the night before last, and now he's gone." Half of the truth, but entirely true on its own. Mello debated silently for a moment before deciding to go with the concerned-friend route, one he was annoyingly unsure he could pull off, but the best strategy for now, he figured. "I don't even know what happened to him."

He looked down at the floor, battling the sense of futility he'd always been able to shake off easily before. No one had yet offered him a glimpse of hope about being able to get the effects reversed. Landing in the empty version of Tokyo had done it, only for it all to get yanked away again. If Mello could find a way to pinpoint the cause for that effect, it wouldn't be hopeless. But it was entirely too specific a question to take to the general population. Have you been fucked with and randomly, temporarily cured? Sign up here! Yeah, that would be sure to go over great.

"What about your friends? Would any of them be able to tell me anything about it? I mean, if they'd be willing to, of course. It must be horrible." Overacting or not? He'd see. The pathetic part was that the uncertainty in his voice wasn't wholly faked.

"Mmm," she nodded, half tempted to reach over and giving him a reassuring touch, but that would probably be much too forward. They'd only just met- this version of Mello at least. But honestly, the situation was far too familiar not to feel a twinge of sadness, memory of her own friends who'd been hurt and gone missing. "I'm so sorry."

Against her better judgment and propriety, she let a hand rest on his shoulder, offering her condolences. Losing a friend like that was never easy. "I'm sure... they would if... if they were still here. But everyone I know that's been taken... they weren't around very long after."

Mello was unthrilled about anyone touching him even at the best of times, and downright averse to it since the night before last, but he managed not to shake Kagura's hand off or hunch his shoulders.

The lawyer, Edgeworth--who seemed to have gone missing himself--had said the same thing. Did that mean Mello and Lunge would shortly find themselves 'released'? He felt sure that wouldn't include undoing the damage that had been done to him. Unacceptable. Mello intended to get out on his own terms. Look around you, he thought, and be logical. Think about how L can't reason his way out, how that asshole with the chainsaw can't fight his way out. What makes you think you have a better shot at it?

Then he did slump, just a little, before catching himself and reasserting his sprawl. He gave Kagura as much of a smile as he could fake. "I saw Emmett the morning after. Then he was gone, and they stuck me in a different room." He pulled a face, still annoyed about that. "Do people always disappear that soon after?"

She let her hand stay for a moment, lifting it when he sent her that sad sort of forced smile. It took a great effort of will not to let a tear or two spill over for him as well. She knew exactly how it felt and it broke her heart to see others that she cared for going through a similar pain.

"I don't know," she admitted. Badou had said too that sometimes it was best to be honest. Mello probably didn't want any sugar-coated lies or sweet nothings to get him through this. He was stronger than that. "Sometimes they disappear without that ever happening. Last night was... I think the fifth new roommate I've had. I'm starting to think I might be bad luck. But... if you're worried Mello-san, maybe there are others out there who could answer that for you better than I could."

Kagura looked so concerned, Mello almost felt bad for being irritated at her lack of useful information. Almost. He still thought there was a connection, but he couldn't ignore that possibility that it was simply random when people left. Like so much here seemed to be, as if the Institute were out to personally thwart any attempts at finding patterns or making sense of the shit that happened.

"This place is bad luck, not you," he said. "Do you know of anyone else looking into those so-called experiments?" Once, he would've been determined to investigate on his own, do all the work and reap all the rewards. Now, he had to admit, if only silently, that duplicating someone else's efforts would be a waste of time. One thing that annoyed him about Homura and his gang was their insularity, their seeming assumption that there were people who deserved to know things, and people who didn't. Maybe it had stung because they hadn't been in a hurry to move Mello from one category to the other, but still. Despite the healthy suspicion he harbored for a lot of the other prisoners, he was starting to think opening things up could only benefit everyone in the long run. Especially himself.

She smiled a bit at his unexpected kindness, even if it came in the form of cool logic. It was certainly better to hope that was the case. She'd hardly gotten to know some of her roommates before they'd vanished again. But if she paused to think about who she'd known that might know anything about the experiments, it was a fairly small list. Leon would've been a good bet, but according to the man on the bulletin, whatever they'd done had been enough to turn Leon into just another monster here. And Toshiro... he might still be here, but she hadn't seen his bulletin posts for a while. As sad as it was to think he might be missing, keeping a distance the second time, now that he didn't remember her, was helpful. She couldn't deal with finding him in that awful state twice.

"I don't think so. Not personally," she shook her head. "I'm sorry."

"If you hear anything, let me know, all right?" He didn't think she could possibly guess his interest was both personal and urgent, but he added, just in case, "Someone ought to do something about it." If she asked why he cared so much, which she probably wouldn't, he could simply tell her, or remind her, that he'd been trained as a detective, a small truth to part with in exchange for keeping the larger one concealed.

The problem would be getting people to come forward. Mello wasn't unaware of the irony of wanting all the details of what had been done to others while still being deeply reluctant to spill the story of his own experience. He'd worry about that when and if he had to.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Day 50: Chapel

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject