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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[swornandbroken.livejournal.com]

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?"

[kagurazuki.livejournal.com]

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."

[swornandbroken.livejournal.com]

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.

[kagurazuki.livejournal.com]

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."

[swornandbroken.livejournal.com]

"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.