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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[zip-it-good.livejournal.com]

Bucciarati looked at her blankly. "Doors?" he repeated, confused, "What happened?"

Was that the reason that the nurses had sedated him? To keep him from being injured...or escape? From what Bucciarati could tell, the nurses meant no harm to him and seemingly cared for his health. Landel himself was another story, of course, but it seemed unlikely that everyone in Landel's employ was as evil and twisted as he was. If Landel was able to put up such a flawless facade during the day, who was to say that the staff had any idea what was going on?

"No, I..." Bucciarati began, touching a hand to his forehead, "I was asleep, I think. Embarrassing, I know. If it's not too much trouble, could you tell me what happened? I wouldn't want to be caught unaware if something similar happened again tonight."

"Ah, by the way, my name is Michelangelo." Bucciarati said, smiling, "A pleasure to meet you."

[fangirlfatale.livejournal.com]

Morgan stopped to consider what that information was worth, then decided not much. Pretty-pants here could always ask one of the other prisoners (way more than she'd seen yesterday or last night--how many were there, she wondered again) or just wait until tonight to see it for himself. But she couldn't think of any advantage in not telling him herself, either, so she shrugged and answered. "The room doors unlocked after dinner. I went to look around, but every time I tried to go through a door, I ended up someplace...weird. Like from a hallway that was supposed to lead outside, into a pantry, into a bathroom, all through the same door."

Giving her name was another thing she had to think about--not that she was in hiding, but having too many people know your face could be bad for business, especially in a closed place like this. But hey, if this guy or anyone he knew caused her any trouble, she was pretty sure she could take him down easy, so she figured she might as well go for it.

"Morgan LeFlay, Mighty Pirate Hunter™," she announced grandly in return, giving him her best professional smile right back.

[zip-it-good.livejournal.com]

"Interesting..." Bucciarati muttered, stroking his chin thoughtfully.

The situation that Morgan described reminded him of what had happened when he had fought the boss. All of the sudden, he would be somewhere else without any memory of going there. Of course, the distances traveled had been rather short and he hadn't even left the same room during the fight, but who was to say that the boss hadn't merely been toying with Bucciarati? If a man was willing to kill his own daughter to keep his identity a secret, there was no doubt that he was at least a touch sadistic.

"In any case, thank you for that information, Morgan!" Bucciarati said, smiling, "I suppose I owe you one now, eh? Well, my profession was based around doing favors, you could say, so I guess I'm used to it by now...anyway, should you ever need something done, feel free to let me know. You've helped me, so now it's my turn to help you."

After pausing for a moment, Bucciarati leaned forward, his hands clasped together. After muttering a quick Hail Mary for his friends back in Italy, he spoke once more.

"By the way, is there anyone that you're here for?" he said a bit more seriously, "Perhaps its none of my business, but even one more prayer can help."

[fangirlfatale.livejournal.com]

And this was why it paid to be professional: a favor she hadn't even had to negotiate for. It wasn't smart to rely on offers like that, but having the option of calling in the debt couldn't hurt, as long as she wasn't the one with the debt. "Thanks," Morgan said with a bright smile. As an afterthought, she added, "What profession is that, by the way?" Not a pirate, right?

His question threw her for a second, though, and she frowned while she thought about her answer. Praying? Morgan didn't have a lot of patience for that stuff. She figured if you wanted anything in life, you'd better pick up your sword and some rope and go get it, not sit around depending on someone else to do it for you. If anyone she knew could use a little divine help, it was definitely herself--getting stabbed in the gut kind of trumped most other petty complaints out there, in her book. But saying that might be a bit overboard, so she just said, "No thanks. For the problems we've got, I'm not sure praying would do much good."

Cold steel would, though. Maybe she should ask him to pray for her to find the blade of Dragotta tonight so she could give LeChuck what was coming to him.

[zip-it-good.livejournal.com]

"Oh, it's the least I could do!" Bucciarati laughed, "One good turn deserves another, no? Especially in a hellhole like this. I may not look like it, but I'd like to think that I'm pretty good in a fight, so if you ever need some extra manpower..." Bucciarati grinned and gave a thumbs up. "You know who to call!"

"As for profession..." Bucciarati said, his expression hardening, a frown forming on his face, "I could tell you, but then I'd have to kill you." He paused for a moment, the serious frown still on his face, but eventually he snorted with laughter, "Ah, I'm just kidding! I'm just a fisherman. Pretty dull, I know, but it's what my father was and I guess it's what my son'll be if I ever find the right girl to marry. The pickings are pretty slim, considering I live on a tiny island off the coast of Italy, but who knows? Maybe someday I'll meet my soul mate."

Oh, if only it were that simple. If Bucciarati's father hadn't rented that boat to those drug dealers years ago, perhaps Bucciarati would be a fisherman. He had always wanted to follow in his father's footsteps, after all. It had always been so beautiful back at Bucciarati's home village. Then father had been shot and Bucciarati had to protect him in the hospital...and now Bucciarati was a member of the very gang that had killed his father. As for finding his soul mate...Bucciarati sincerely doubted that he would have any time to date if he ever escaped the institute, much less raise a child.

"Suit yourself," Bucciarati said as he kneeled at one of the pews, "You'd be surprised at how much faith can affect you. I know that it's gotten me through some of my hard times."

She had passed on Bucciarati's offer, but he decided to say a quick Our Father for Morgan anyway. Everyone here needed all the help they could get, whether they believed in its source or not. Once he was finished with the prayer for Morgan, however, he began praying the rosary for his team back in Italy. There was no doubt in his mind that they would need it.