Nightshift 54: F21-F30 Hallway

[no_dont_go]

[F21]If Aigis hadn't been there to see it herself she would not have believed it. Martin Landel, the bane of her existence for the past week, was now gone. Replaced. And she didn't know what to make of the new authority put in place. She told herself it was her inaction that filled her with unease. For a moment, he had been there right where

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[saviored]

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Damon realized the radio on the floor had gone off, but deciphering what the hell it was saying was way down in the priority list. Backing away from the edge of his snapping point seemed more important. He'd be fine, though. Probably. Elena's voice cut through the haze easily enough, at least.

"Elena." She was all right. He'd hear it if she wasn't. From the sounds of it, so was Rick. Okay. Time to get everyone the hell off the floor.

He grabbed the wall and stumbled to his feet. He was still trying to figure out how he should offer Elena a hand without getting slammed with round three (once might've been a coincidence; twice-no way) when both flashlights predictably winked out of existence. Fortunately, his vision hadn't taken as much of a hit as the rest of his senses. Who knew why. Save some batteries. Maybe the good doctor Landel participated in Earth Hour.

Point was, it meant he saw pretty clearly Elena smacking herself with the end of her flashlight. Her blood registered with sharp clarity even before it visibly trickled from her nose. Normally, not much of a problem-he couldn't exactly play nice with the Council if he lost it every time one of them got a paper cut-but now was not a good time for anyone to be bleeding around him. Whatever instincts had gone into overdrive earlier hadn't completely retreated. Fresh human blood? Not helping.

He hesitated, licked his lips, felt the sharp tip of his teeth against his tongue for the briefest moment before it retracted. He obviously couldn't just leave her bleeding. For both their sakes, the sooner they stopped the blood flow, the better. And as for the teacher... Even if Rick wasn't blind as a mole, asking Rick to do anything right now would be like asking him to trip over Elena's foot and break his own neck.

Though the way this night was going, Damon was tempted to actually ask that of him. But he didn't.

"It's two inches to your right," he said impatiently as he pulled his t-shirt over his head, leaving him in the white sleeveless underneath. "Take it and stop moving." He crouched before Elena and pushed the shirt into her hands. For a moment he watched her, concerned. "Anything broken?"

He was sure she hadn't hit herself hard enough to break her nose, but he'd also been sure Elena and Rick knew how to keep their center of gravity in place.

[lookslikeher]

Even as her eyes adjusted to the dim light in the hallway, Damon's voice coming from right in front of her made her jump, though she took his advice, and his... shirt(? Oh.) and pressed it against her face. Which hurt, but, better that than letting it bleed freely. Gross. She bunched it up enough so that her mouth wasn't completely covered, and just scooted back to lean against the wall before settling down again. Well, they were there, may as well just sit. They couldn't trip and fall and ruin the night even further if they were already sitting. Right?

"I don't think it's broken, no. I'm going to have a bruise to explain though, aren't I?" Which she sounded more bummed about than anything else. She wasn't going to go around telling people she hit herself in the face, that was certain. Elena leaned her head against the wall, sighed, and absolutely looked the part of Troubled Teen.

"Are you okay? You saw something else, right?" She tried not to sound too pushy, but she was reallyreally curious. Her eyes shut as she tried to block out the panic that they were all going to be stuck with random strikes of memory from now on. It had the potential to drive them all insane.

"Have you been seeing anything, Rick?" ... Yeah, it was still weird, calling him that. She was just going to pretend it wasn't though, for now. Because maybe it wasn't weird, maybe it was just something she needed to get used to now. Since, for some reason, she got the feeling formalities could take a back-burner when they were all being held hostage by a crazy doctor who felt the need to make them all wear shirts with big, creepy smiley faces on them.

[deathandgin]

Two inches to the right. Oh, there it was. Plucking the flashlight from the floor, he hoped against hope the damn thing would still light up. As much as he wanted to slam the bottom of it against the tiled floor, it was already being finicky as it was. He flipped the switch back off, then back on.

Nothing.

Great. He slid to the side of the hallway as well, not exactly ready for someone to trip over him and break either their neck or his own. Luck so far said chances are it'd be his own. "What's broken?" he asked the darkness, trying to squint at the flashlight in his hands as if it'd help him see. After figuring out which way he needed to screw the top lens on, he tried to switch again. Let there be light. His temporary blindness was worth the ridiculous amount of comfort it gave him.

Now that the most obvious problem had been fixed, Alaric could actually focus his attention on the fact that someone was talking in the background - slightly muffled, slightly fuzzy. He swept the hallway for the source, spotting... a radio?

- after you tonight. The bad news? Something funny is definitely going on. All I was able to decipher is that it has something to do with food.

First of all: who? Second: what? Third: why did he bother asking questions anymore? Nothing was going to get answered anytime soon. Or ever.

He popped his attention back to their traveling brigade at the sound of his name. No Mr. Saltzman this time? "Uh, no. I mean, no flashbacks or anything."

[saviored]

Watching Rick fumble with his flashlight was a little like watching a car drift on an icy road. You were ninety percent sure nothing would actually happen, but it was possible someone could die.

Damon turned his attention back to Elena. At least the bleeding looked like it was slowing down. Apparently, this was a cue for him to take his turn because when he pressed absently against his side, he felt a slight burn and a definite wetness beneath the bandages. You know what? Not even going to comment.

"Time of my life," he replied dryly. He got back to his fee and leaned against the wall, beside Elena. They couldn't all be sitting like shark bait, and since Elena and the teacher were floor-bound unless they wanted another go at Twister... "What I saw was old news. You must've both passed the memories over on contact so I suggest neither of you touch me again or-move at all, for that matter."

Whatever was causing his trip through other people's heads, it couldn't have anything to do with Elena's current...memory quirk. The way it was happening was too different; Elena's memories were her own, not grafted on from anyone else. Compulsion couldn't possibly be responsible for this. Witches? Well, obvious, he supposed. There wasn't much to pick and choose from. Witches, vampires. That was it. And the Lockwoods, but he wasn't taking that one on tonight on top of the rest. Either way, someone was screwing around with them. He'd really like to know who. So he could put their head on a plate.

[lookslikeher]

"You think we should just stay here?" Elena made a point to look around the hallway as if to remind him that ..they were out in the hallway before peeking up at him. She was just going to tactfully ignore the slight nauseous feeling she got from tipping her head back, just so she could give him a look. Which was half covered by his shirt anyway. Whatever.

Even if they couldn't seem to go five minutes without something annoyingly painful happening, she didn't think the 'sitting duck' tactic was their best shot. But then, she wasn't in any position to be calling the shots. So.

The fact that he wasn't experiencing the same type of memory jumps she was made her a little nervous, if not just because now they had double the amount of things to try and piece together. They knew Elena had been compelled, somehow, but Damon? Vampires couldn't compel other vampires. That was pretty basic.

But this all still went along with the fact that the Salvatores didn't have their full strength here. The same questions that they couldn't seem to find the answers to on their own. How, how, how, how, and how.

"Don't you have a roommate we can barge in on?" Not the time to be a brat, but she didn't seem to care. "I would rather sit-and-don't-touch-anything in an actual room than out here." A pause. "Just not an old abandoned room with defective beds."

[deathandgin]

Regardless of the horrible luck he'd had so far, Alaric wasn't about to just spend the rest of the night on the floor. The least he could do was spend it standing on his own two feet.

Retrospect, 20/20. Yeah.

Since he was leaning against one of the walls of the hallway, he used it to help anchor himself against the prying hands of gravity to get to his feet relatively incident free. The flashlight didn't spark or flicker or explode in his hands, which was a plus. So far, so good. He even had the balance necessary to kick off the stupid slippers so he didn't have the excuse of slippery footwear anymore. Just good, solid feet on... really cold tile.

Now that his simple venture had been completed, he could go back to having a normal conversation. "When you say passed on, are you saying... those weren't your memories?" He might as well ask a question that there was a chance of getting answered, because asking why touching Damon at all had something to do with his memories wouldn't get him anywhere.

- All I was able to decipher is that it has something to do with food.

Okay, okay. He'd consider it, only because nothing else was making sense, so why start now?

"I think she's right, Damon," Rick said, letting go of the wall and pointing his light at the floor. "If there's - whatever around, a room could be the best bet. Er. An occupied one. If we don't touch anything." It would be a feat, but he was willing to take the chance in case the tribbles-with-teeth decided to come back a second time.

The flashlight flickered off again, emitting an audible sparking noise. Rick rolled his eyes, sighed, then because shaking the damn metal tube in irritation. Big surprise that it slipped out of his hand and hit the floor again, cracking against the tile.

He was never going to live this down.

Placing one hand on the wall, he used his foot to probe the immediate vicinity for the light. No where that close, then. Of course not. He released the wall and took a step forward - big surprise! - finding the flashlight so unexpectedly that his foot rolled off the tube and he slipped forward while still half facing the wall. He didn't have a chance to whip his arms out or do more than grunt before his head cracked against the hard metal of the door as audibly as the flashlight hitting the floor.

When his body slumped to the ground, it was all dead weight.