It was going to be a busy night. Maes Hughes had no less than three visitors slated for the night - Ed wouldn't take too long to deal with, Alfons he planned to just arm and give a few pointers to, and then.... Roy. Assuming Roy was going to follow through with what he'd said. Who knew?

At least he had a decent roommate. Hughes had to admit that he didn't mind Crawford - he seemed smart and had a good head on his shoulders. Not a bad guy to share personal space with. It was almost like being back in the military dorms.

Armed and with flashlight and radio in hand, Hughes stepped out into the hallway - in case Ed or Alfons had forgotten his room number.

As always, Tamaki woke up in his bed. He didn't know how he got there, but he woke up still in the clutches of fear he last remembered from the night. The fight in the hallway, Ed and Adel, the thing...

He was out of bed immediately, determined to make sure his friends were alright. He listened to the man on the intercom, not liking the idea of some big surprise. He didn't imagine any surprises could be good. And he hoped his friends felt the same way...

When his nurse came to get him, he chose the Sun Room instead of the chapel. He wanted no part of whatever was going to happen. He only hoped that Ed and Adel had the same idea....

They probably didn't. Agitated and worried, Tamaki paced along the window, hands behind his back, and waited.

It seemed from everything she heard that nightshift didn't officially start until nightfall, but there were no windows in her room, and she had no idea when that would be.  When dinner was brought to her, therefore, she ate it swiftly.  Not knowing what to expect, she wanted to be at least somewhat prepared--and not in the middle of eating--when it happened.

Her stomach was in no mood for food, but she forced it, like so many actions in her life.  She wondered how much of this she had done last night.  How far had she got through the night before they did what they did?  How much time had she lost?

It didn't really matter.  Whether she had forgot the beginning of the night or whether she hadn't experienced it at all, it was the same result: she didn't know what would happen next.

Discarding her tray to the side, she took this time to explore the room, seeking out anything useful.  She found a flashlight under her pillow, and quite conveniently, batteries next to a journal in the desk drawer.

( ... )

Lust was rather loathe to leave her lunchtime companion when the intercom chimed on. But there would be plenty of time to continue their conversation later, when night fell. Whatever pangs of guilt she still felt were ignored and crushed down - she had nothing to feel guilty for! These human emotions were beginning to get on her nerves. Again.

The Music Room seemed a good enough choice for where to spend the next few hours - the Sun Room was rather boring, all things considered - and Lust ignored her nurse as she was urged along to the rather tastefully decorated room. She had no care for musical instruments and had no idea what tape recorders or ceedee players were, but her nurse was more than happy to explain the small machines to her. And set one of them up for her. And recommend some music. Wasn't she just so very helpful?

Some sort of soothing instrumental piece filtered up into the earpeices and Lust's nurse finally wandered away with a smile. Fine. The homunculus took out her journal and a pen and began writing.

Dreamless slumbers were easy. There was no thought, no images of people or places you knew or ones conjured by your imagination. It was simply you in darkness until your eyelids cracked and the darkness gave way to a light you were unwilling to greet.

Barret dreamt of Marlene. Rather, he saw her visage stilled as a photo before his sight as he gasped a breath to break the chains sleep cast about him. He was in the same room he'd awoken in the night before. This morning was slightly different from the rest. It was this morning he sustained vast injuries he was acutely aware of by simply breathing in the institute air. It might as well been poisonous taint--everything about the place was taint. Only the stilled image of his angel made it seem endurable.

Yet even the remembrance of that little girl brought his heart to a chilling halt. This imprisonment seemed hopeless at every turn. It was as if every moment, if he wasn't confronted with the fact all escape was a little less than impossible, he heard new imformation to enforce this fact.

Wallace wasn't one for giving up, yet in his newest form of injury, he felt like a useless slab of meat. He recalled the days when he truly had something to offer, not only to the comrades that battled along side of him, but the little girl he grew to call his own and truly believe it in his heart.

His large hands gripped the sheets at his sides, inhaling a sharp breath not only at the pain, but the sorrow that was washing over him in a tidal wave of misery.

"Marlene..." he whispered in a trembling voice, shaking his head over and over at the troubling thoughts invading his mind. All attempts to banish them were futile, "Daddy don't know if he can get out of this one...but he gonna try..."

The words were not believable, not even as he spoke them. It was in his eyes--for the moment at least, he was giving up.

The nurses' cheerful voice barely registered as she rattled off about him missing breakfast. It didn't matter. He wasn't hungry anyway. She mentioned something about leaving the room, heading for the next scheduled activity, and nothing but complete blankness crossed his face as she continued to babble. She took his wrist, which was heavy and limp. He didn't even have the resolve to talk back to her, in which she must have seen his reluctance and silence as something more than what it was. Out of the corner of his eye, he finally saw a wheelchair positioned by the bed for convenience. Was his condition that severe? As he moved to seat himself in it with her aid, he noticed he in fact, was. He felt devestated.

It was interesting how she didn't make mention of his wounds. The clean stab through just above his gut was stitched on both sides, the gash as his knee was bandaged as was the slice at his gut. She must have thought them self-inflicted.

Maybe he really was insane.

He might as well have been comatose. His expression was non-existent as the nurse continued to ramble, pushing him down the hallway toward their destination.

When they entered the library, his care went from zero to in the negative numbers. She placed him gently at the head of one of the tables and asked if he needed help locating any books. When no answer came, she frowned but patted his shoulder in a comfort before leaving the broken patient behind.

He felt like shit.

Renji wasn't certain how he'd gotten from the room with Sora and Nowe back to his bed. He scrambled up and quickly checked; everything that he'd tucked into his clothes was still there, including the trauma shears and the start of the map. He quickly hid those things wherever they would fit - and not be too obvious. Hopefully Nowe and Sora had been safely returned to their rooms as well.

He didn't like it. He really didn't enjoy feeling even more like a passenger in his own life.

The head doctor, cheery on the intercom, was seriously getting on his nerves. Then the nurse showed up to collect him. She was annoying. He was quiet, and shuffled obediently after her, all the while contemplating just how good it would feel to punch any of the nurses, but this one in particular, in the back of the head.

Again, no rice. He got himself eggs, sausage, and toast, as well as a glass of juice. He sat down somewhere he'd have a good view of the door and started picking at his food.

[ From here. ]

As Zack entered the Sun Room, he wondered if he should close the doors behind them. They had been open initially, so perhaps leaving them that way would be a better plan. If they ran into any monsters, it would be preferable if they could make a quick getaway. It wasn't like they were trying to keep any other patients out, either, so he left the doors open.

Glancing at the doors that led off to the left and right from the Sun Room, he tried to see if he knew where any of them went off the top of his head. He was fairly sure one of the doors led to the showers, Arts and Crafts, and the Game Room, but he couldn't remember which was which.

Not that it mattered. The cafeteria was straight ahead.

Usually, Sora would have been overly excited about making gingerbread houses. It was exactly like Christmas Town, after all, and he had good memories of that place. (He'd gotten to meet Santa! What was better than that?) Unfortunately, he wasn't in the best of moods. Landel's had that strange quality of being able to upset even the most optimistic of people.

It had started with running into Saïx the night before. The Nobody had mentioned Kairi being in danger and Sora still hadn't been able to question him about it. Trying to talk to his doctor about it had also been a complete failure. And he'd missed lunch because his therapy had run too late.

So, hungry and unfulfilled, Sora glanced around the empty arts and crafts room. He got the feeling that once again he wouldn't see any of his friends enter after him. Not Riku, not Roxas, and Naminé was always busy...

At least he had made a few new friends. Nowe seemed really nice. So did Ginji and Kurama. And if he kept at it, he could probably make more friends. It was just hard to focus on that when he was so worried about his other friends.

Slumping into a seat, Sora started to snack on some gingerbread. He was so hungry... And this would hopefully keep him sated until dinner. And then it would be back to nightshift. He was growing sick of the same routine.

While Arts and Crafts wasn't all that bad, Gray Fox was greatly relieved when an intercom announced Lunch. He had almost reached the point where he was going to start eating more of the building materials.

Hamburgers. Not his first choice but he was by no means about to complain. Keeping his eyes on the so-far empty room, Fox made his way over to start the line and get his burger. Haphazardly picking out what he wanted to be on it. He wasn't a very picky eater, and, truthfully, he didn't think it was possible for a FOXHOUND agent to be a picky eater, at least, not after survival training.

The food actually did smell very good, despite coming from a cafeteria, and a hospital cafeteria at that. He took a seat that was near one of the walls and very quickly started in on his burger.

It had been difficult to figure out how many patients there were, since more had continually been brought into the arts and crafts room from somewhere else, but now, he had the feeling he'd be able to see just how large the patient population was.

And that man who looked like Snake would be here as well, hopefully.

It was silly, but Wilson was nervous.

Mental health was by no means his specialty. It was true that he more or less had to act as a counselor for his patients. Most of them had terminal cancer. The dates were never any good. Two years, one year, six months, three months. He could speak to people about dying well enough, but this was different.

Hopefully he would get the hang of it. He took solace in the fact that he had a bit more experience than some of the other doctors. Such as, oh, House? He wasn't sure what the chief of staff had been thinking when he hired him. It made him wonder if the administrators were as insane as the patients.

Even though therapy didn't start first thing in the morning, Wilson had made sure to be there extra early anyway. (He had to make up for House, who would undoubtedly be late.) His office was also cleaner than it would normally be - first impressions were important, after all, and that was probably even more true with mental patients. He heard the intercom, which meant his first patient would be heading in soon. He straightened in his chair, though his nervousness caused him to grab a random doodad off of his desk and start fiddling with it.

[ ooc: For Adelheid, Cliff, Dias, Eric, Hikaru, Riza, Scar, and Seimei. ]

Scar felt as if he'd passed out as soon as he'd gotten to his bed due to the admittedly strong fatigue and pain that having a badly injured arm tended to cause a person to feel, even one as conditioned and battle-worn as the stern-faced Ishbalan. He woke up feeling rested but regretful, and his fear that he'd wasted a Nightshift ripe with the possibility of discovered items and means of escape was confirmed as the intercom's metallic voice came forth and a bright-faced nurse opened the door and beckoned him towards the burly orderlies who were supposed to take him to breakfast.

The Ishbalan frowned a deep, dark frown. He wasn't quite sure if he could count the shameful number of days that he'd spent like an animal in a cage, and at this point, he wasn't sure if he wanted to.

He'd been tired lately, after all; perhaps some of the sentiment of hopelessness that certain other patients tended to exude was contagious for those who had seen more than their fair share of life and its losses. But no; simply wading in self-pity was no way to get things done; to use one's own self-loathing and use it as a motivation in the struggle for redemption--that was the salvation that Scar truly sought. Last night had fallen victim to physical exhaustion, but tonight he would increase his efforts tenfold to make up for the lapse into lethargy.

First, however--pancakes.

The days of the breadbasket seemed to be long gone as Scar entered the near-empty cafeteria with some feeling of foreboding that he was the first one to get his meal and sit down. He'd gotten pancakes and sausage, and more than a few fruits, not for the fact that he especially trusted the food here but for the fact that fresh goods had been few and far in between upon the harsh lands of Ishbal.

Scar's red eyes darted from the nearest nurse to the main entrance, and with hunger and thirst that no logic could quench, began starting in on the food.

And, with all the collectedness and calm that the Head Doctor of the night never truly seemed to have, the intercom came on with a brief click, its normality complimented by the pleasant sunlight that filtered into the cafeteria as nurses prepared counters and tables for the patients' first meal.

"Gooood morning, Landel's!" The Head Doctor said with a short yawn that in no way gave away the lack of sleep he must have dealt with due to his nighttime antics. "It's time for breakfast, and I hope you all got some good rest and are planning on getting some good eats, because today is Therapy Day, and we want to make sure you're in good enough spirits that your time with our doctors isn't wasted. Remember--have a good attitude, and you'll get further along in recovery in a day than some other patients do in a month!"

The Head Doctor seemed to pick up a large stack of papers that made a dull thud as he dropped the lot of them on his desk, and his fingers made slight rustling noises as he flipped through the files before him.

"Let's see... our current roster of doctors seems to be... Dr. Jonathan Crane, Dr. Gregory House, Professor Samuel Oak, Dr. Andrew Stegman, Dr. Hakubi Washu, and Dr. James Wilson. You will all be assigned to one of these trained professionals according to compatibility and their areas of expertise, so make sure to give them your utmost respect!"

The intercom clicked a little as the Head Doctor seemed to adjust the mic and pull out another pack of files.

"All right, and we also have some new additions to our tight-knit Landel's community! Everyone please give a warm welcome to Hans Davis, Nathan Fillion, James Hill, Drake Hornback, Samantha Paige, and Alan Yamamoto."

The Head Doctor seemed to draw back from the intercom before realizing that he was forgetting one last thing.

"Oh, of course, the menu for breakfast! Today, we will be serving buttermilk pancakes with a choice of syrup, butter, or fruit preserves as toppings, as well as the regular option of cold cereal. Remember to also pick up some fresh fruit for a healthy, balanced diet, and, as always, you can choose either water, milk or orange juice to drink. For your protein intake, you can choose from sausage patties, sausage links, or bacon--oh, and don't forget the hash browns! Mm-mm-mm!"

A pause, then a clearing of the throat.

"That's all for today! Be seeing you after breakfast!"

The intercom clicked off.