The Scarecrow of Oz (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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damned_institute2010-09-07 05:07 am
scarefaux) wrote in damned_institute2010-09-07 05:07 am
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Night 51: Doctor's Office 5 [Dr. Venkman]
[From here.]
The brown hues of Dr. Venkman's office looked black in the dim light from Scar's flashlight, making the room look far darker than the hallway and a hundred times less inviting than it had seemed in the daytime. The light crossing the desk brought the trinkets strewn about it to life as large shadows on the wall. The Scarecrow swallowed that lump forming in his throat, mustering his courage as he tip-toed into the room. He'd half-expected Dr. Venkman to be there for some reason, sitting in his chair, his expression flat no matter what was said to him, as was expected of someone who probably knew a great deal and was bored with simple matters of the body and mind. After a moment with no sound, no indication he was in the room, the former strawman crossed the threshold.
Luckily, the Scarecrow remembered the layout of the room from his visit only days before. Finding the chair near the desk, he pulled it toward the bookshelf along the wall. Though he couldn't read the framed papers hanging above the shelf just yet, he knew the general spot where the one he'd eyed was. If he could just find it and get his hands on it, maybe everything would fall into place.
First things first- he needed the light. "Over here, Scar!" he said in a whisper, motioning for the former lion to illuminate the wall.
The brown hues of Dr. Venkman's office looked black in the dim light from Scar's flashlight, making the room look far darker than the hallway and a hundred times less inviting than it had seemed in the daytime. The light crossing the desk brought the trinkets strewn about it to life as large shadows on the wall. The Scarecrow swallowed that lump forming in his throat, mustering his courage as he tip-toed into the room. He'd half-expected Dr. Venkman to be there for some reason, sitting in his chair, his expression flat no matter what was said to him, as was expected of someone who probably knew a great deal and was bored with simple matters of the body and mind. After a moment with no sound, no indication he was in the room, the former strawman crossed the threshold.
Luckily, the Scarecrow remembered the layout of the room from his visit only days before. Finding the chair near the desk, he pulled it toward the bookshelf along the wall. Though he couldn't read the framed papers hanging above the shelf just yet, he knew the general spot where the one he'd eyed was. If he could just find it and get his hands on it, maybe everything would fall into place.
First things first- he needed the light. "Over here, Scar!" he said in a whisper, motioning for the former lion to illuminate the wall.
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Scar had hoped that, perhaps, he would find something interesting in the office, but when he took notice of his surroundings, he couldn't help but to be disappointed. After all, there were little differences with the office he had visited during a therapy session. Expected or not, it was another practically wasted night. Lovely...
At least he wouldn't have to concern himself with this area again.
When the Scarecrow signaled for him to come over and apparently illuminate the wall, the former lion rolled his eyes and released a sigh. Still, he might as well provide the assistance. Perhaps the good-will would come in useful to him, somehow.
He had been about to shift the torch's beam to the wall so his companion for the night could find this ridiculous 'diploma' he so eagerly wanted. Following that, he would've likely made a comment, possibly tinged with sarcasm. But the former lion never got that far.
Instead, something made him freeze, made his eyes widen as his brain began registering that something wasn't quite right. He hadn't realized he had dropped the flashlight until he heard it clattering on the floor. Logically, its beam should be sweeping around the room wildly by the movement, he knew at least that much. But the former lion couldn't tell. He couldn't tell because...because....
...he couldn't see the beam.
For a moment, the former lion merely stood there, stunned. Then he began to tremble. And with a voice that sounded very much like someone trying to remain calm and just barely being able to do so, he asked: "That torch's beam...it has simply disappeared, right?"
But, perhaps he already knew the answer to that question. Because usually, he was able to see even without it.
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The flashlight rolled along the carpet for a second, finally stopping when it hit Dr. Venkman's desk. The Scarecrow took it in hand, finding Scar standing in the darkness. He looked okay, though completely petrified by some unknown terror. A look around the room, moving the light into every nook and cranny, left the Scarecrow more puzzled than frightened- there didn't seem to be anything there, aside from the two of them and Dr. Venkman's collection of knickknacks and diplomas. What had spooked the lion so badly?
The Scarecrow got his first clue when Scar spoke, his tone shaking as much as his body. Disappeared? He took a step toward the former lion, trying to figure out just what was wrong. "The light's right here, Scar- it's as plain as the nose on my face! Can't you see it?"
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Suddenly, he felt vulnerable, helpless. Was this room even save?! And what of the Scarecrow? Could he be trusted? He didn't know, and he hated that.
He drew a few shaky breaths, before he demanded: "Where are you?!"
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Ooooh. With Scar's light in hand, the Scarecrow got a good look at him for the first time that evening- the bandaging around his head, though partially obscured by his hair, was telling. Maybe something had happened to him... just not in Dr. Venkman's office.
He turned back toward the shelf, grabbing the chair and pulling it across the room, positioning it behind Scar. "I'm putting a seat behind you, Scar. You just sit down until we figure out what's going on."
He stood next to Scar, putting his hand on his arm, reassuring him that he wasn't alone. Senses-not-working angle aside, the scenario was a bit familiar- the Cowardly Lion sometimes needed a hand, too. "Is it just your eyes that aren't working?"
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One of his hands felt around, locating the piece of furniture behind him that humans used to sit on. Carefully, he lowered himself on its edge. "Y-yes," Scar confirmed, barely keeping his voice from trembling. Unlike what had occurred during the Doyleton, there was no way he could deny this was happening to him, not reason it as something perfectly normal. What was he supposed to do now?! His mind raced, but through the panic he couldn't make sense of anything. His thoughts were a mess. Everything was a mess.
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"I don't suppose this has happened to you before," the Scarecrow said quietly, their options running through his mind. He paused for a moment, knowing the next question was a tricky topic. "You were taken for the sleep studies too, weren't you?"
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The Scarecrow was right in the sense that it was a tricky topic. Had Scar been given the choice, he'd much rather forget it had ever happened, forget about all he had been forced to endure. But the still aching wound on the side of his head served as a persistent reminder. His expression darkened, which on itself would make all the more clear that the assumption was correct even despite the lack of a vocal response.
In his panic, in his desperation to forget that horrifying and humiliating night, he had failed to realize it. But they had done something to him, to his brain. Was...this it?! Was this what they had done to him?!
It took a moment for the realization to sink in, but when it did, panic and fear made place for anger and frustration. He didn't even notice his hands clenching into fists until he felt the nails digging onto his palm, but he didn't care.
They did this to him!! How dare they do this to him?! It was all their fault!
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His brow furrowed as he tried to think of anything he could do for the lion, but he knew there was nothing- if there was one thing his own experience with the clever little thing had taught him, it was that getting worked up only made things worse. The best solution was to just wait until his senses came back. It worked well enough during the daytime, but at night, there were somethings roaming the hallways, witches lurking in the shadows. They weren't safe anywhere, and certainly not with one of them blind. It was one thing to comfort a cowardly lion who was afraid of everything he couldn't see because it was likely there was nothing to fear in the first place; it was a horse of a different color to soothe a lion who'd been blinded in a place where there was genuine danger all around them (and worse was that he knew it. There'd be no convincing Scar it was all in his head).
"You can't let yourself get worked up," the Scarecrow said to Scar, patting his hands. "Believe me, I think I have an idea what you're going through, and getting flustered only makes it worse. That's how it's been for me."
He looked to the door. "I think we ought to get you back to the rooms for now, especially since we don't know how long it'll be until your sight comes back." That was granted it was coming back at all, but the Scarecrow liked to be positive. "Staying here certainly isn't safe."
SORRY FOR THE FAIL! DX
He felt shut off suddenly, and so utterly helpless. And he hated it. And he hated the head doctor for doing this to him!
The frustration and anger was directed at the wrong person, but the former lion couldn't quite care. Especially not now, when he wasn't even sure in which direction to yell at even though the other patient was definitely standing near him.
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"They're probably no safer than this room, but at least we've been through them once tonight, and I've yet to see anything in the patient halls." The Scarecrow paced for a moment, stopping in front of Scar. "We don't know how long it'll be until you can see again- it might be only a bit, it might be tomorrow, or it might not be at all." His own senses returned after only a short while; then again, he'd never lost his sight before. Was there a difference in Scar's experimentation and his own?
Clicking the flashlight off and on, the Scarecrow walked around the entire room, checking into every shadow and corner, opening drawers, scanning under the desk and chairs. "Okay, I've looked everywhere in here. Unless something can appear here in a puff of smoke or it's completely invisible, we're alone. Let's just wait until either the morning or your sight returns- whichever comes first. I'll be right here with you."