Day 50: Chapel

[full-score.livejournal.com]

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.]

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[whichwayagain.livejournal.com]

Having his night end with the doctor's voice was unpleasant, though it confirmed beyond all doubt that Doyleton was within his area of control. Morning, however, started with six sweet notes, none of which had been crushed despite Mihai's horizontal position. The mini-bottles were stowed away quickly, before the prying eyes of either his roommate or his nurse saw. He had no desire to lose any of them, be it to staff or stranger.

Shortly after, Mihai found himself being led not to the Cafeteria, but upstairs. Sundays ran on a different schedule, or so explained the nurse. Regardless of the day, however, Mihai had little use for the Chapel. Perhaps God had never favored him because of his disbelief, but Mihai had shed too much blood in his days to consider himself eligible for forgiveness.

Perhaps he'd have pleasant company, however, if Renamon's faith was similarly lacking. He'd moved into the pew on his nurse's prompting, then smiled at his fellow patient when the woman took her leave. "Good morning, Miss Renamon." Or had she been one of the ones who wanted to forgo the formality? Ah well. "I'm not disturbing you, am I?"

[diamondstorm]

When a body dropped into place next to her, the Digimon had to turn her head to see the identity. Already she was bordering tired of the bandage. The person seemed to be the man with the interesting name from a few days back. He, at least, seemed fine, which seemed a reassurance when it came to this place.

She inclined her head politely. "As well. You're not disturbing me." The 'miss' was all but ignored. Renamon was becoming used to others' expressions, even with her own distaste. "You look well. Did you ever find Badou?"

[whichwayagain.livejournal.com]

What had Renamon encountered to walk away with such injuries? When Mihai thought about it, he realized that he hadn't run into any of the famed monsters of the Institute so far. The nights had instead passed by with conversation and wandering--and as of last night, booze. Clearly the good fortune meant something disastrous was in his future, and Mihai's good mood soured a touch at the thought. Some might call his attitude overly pessimistic, but for him, it was unquestionable reality.

"I did. That same day, in fact. Thanks for your help with that." Badou's presence at least gave Mihai a grounding point of familiarity. Not the best one, perhaps, since it was Badou. But spending time with him brought an ease unlike what he'd felt with Reeve the night before. Badou brought a sense of home, and all the chaos that involved. "How have you been? Those injuries look severe." Particularly any involving the eye: it was unfortunate, as a lack of sight would only make the nights all the more dangerous. He tried to make light of it, however, particularly since Renamon seemed so serious. "You match Badou now, with the eye."

[diamondstorm]

That was one thing that was good, then, she thought. With the multitudes of people that vanished, finding one you knew could be seen as something of a relief. Renamon herself hadn't seen Badou for a few days. With the events of the past nights, she should probably make an effort to. It was possible he had heard something about those trials, and before then... Hm. She would have to see if he was free.

"It was nothing at all," the Digimon replied lightly. A simple confirmation of existence gave nothing for effort, though she knew that that reassurance was worth much to some, herself included. At the mention of her injuries, Renamon shook her head once. If the evidence from Nunnally pointed to anything, the eye would heal in time. "There's been worse," she offered dryly. "I'll be fine. I was simply assisting another." Here, in fact. How this place produced such mixed feelings in the Digimon. Her mien didn't change, but she acknowledged the joke, tone lighter. "I'll have to hope I don't need an eyepatch."

While she was speaking with the man, she would at least ask. From Beelzemon's words, not only had she and Nunnally experienced the doors opening into strange places. There was no harm in broaching it. "How was your night?"

[whichwayagain.livejournal.com]

Perhaps to Renamon and the grand scheme, telling Mihai that Badou was there really had been nothing. But for a man suffering from the worst case of being at the wrong place at any time, even that knowledge of someone from home helped to ground him. Mihai's acceptance of the warped reality around him would've come with much more difficulty otherwise. It made him think of Reeve, who Mihai sincerely hoped would have similar luck that day. The poor man had been struggling so much the night before for understanding; even Mihai hadn't had things so bad off his first night.

Renamon may have appreciated the joke in her own quiet way, but Mihai couldn't so easily accept her reasons. "Regardless of why, the fact that you're hurt isn't something to take lightly. Eye injuries especially make it difficult to fight. Half your sight is gone, and your perception of distance will be more difficult to adjust to." Mihai had gone through specific training during his days as a professional gun-wielder to compensate for it: shooting with one eye closed, then the other, taking quick aim under fire, judging the right shot based on a reflection. Anything and everything to make sure the Dragonetti's had the most feared assassin in the mafia. And he'd succeeded.

"If you get hurt too badly, it hurts the ones who worry about you too. Just something to think about. Badou doesn't need a twin anyway." Unwanted advice from an old man probably wouldn't sink in, but at least this way Mihai could officially claim that he'd told Renamon so should something worse happen again. He didn't want to, but best to be prepared.

"Decidedly weird." With his part said, Mihai moved on to answer Renamon's question. "I'm pretty good at getting lost, but even my skills don't explain what happened last night. None of the doors led where they were supposed to." A phenomenon that probably hadn't been limited to only himself and Reeve. "I even made it into Doyleton. Twice, I think. How about yours? The obvious aside, of course."