Day 29: Waiting Room/Lobby 1
When the nurse suddenly appeared after the intercom's announcement, Ritsuka could only stare at her. He had a visitor? He knew that Miku had one, but to think that he would get one? He couldn't imagine who would come to see him. Seimei was gone, Soubi was here... Or so he hoped. It had been almost two shifts since he'd last seen the older man
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The ominous blank was as frustrating as it was bothersome. He'd be in for a shock if someone involved in a past case decided to show up. He wasn't that popular, otherwise.
What he definitely hadn't counted on was his superior dropping in.
His heart must've skipped several beats, or maybe for a fleeting moment he'd completely forgotten the organ existed. As the man approached, Dean's features automatically softened, eyes glinting as he seemed to disregard everything around him, save for that one man, despite the vigilant awareness he was to maintain at all times. He swallowed hard, physical influence of this sudden warmth he was feeling in his chest starting to hit him, escorting him into a daze.
The man before him looked different to how he'd last seen him. (Not that it mattered). The beard was gone. Maybe he'd broken out of the facility. Maybe without the extra facial hair, they'd failed to identify him.
"Dad." His voice was hoarse, though even as he said it, he continued to be ineffably mesmerised by the sight of his father. He couldn't find it in himself to initiate an embrace. Memories of that night were etched disturbingly deep in his mind. So the next thing he needed to ask was: "... Is that you?"
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"Who else would it be?" He said, stepping forward and putting a hand on Jack's shoulder. He squeezed, as if anchoring his son somewhere that his delusions couldn't take him from, and then stepped back, eyes slowly surveying the room.
"Fine mess you got yourself into, Jack. Damn fine mess."
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Dean remained motionless as the other man gripped his shoulder, standing tall and confident like he was supposed to, meanwhile attempting to quell the tension building within and anticipating the disappearance of that damn knot constricting his voice. He wasn't to cringe or tremble, or start rambling about how much crap this place'd served him so far, on top of the ongoing fear his father might be dead.
"No matter what, you've gotta stay strong. 'Cause they don't care. They won't stop coming, not if you've scraped your knee, not if you've broken it. They'll use every card they can afford. You'll have cards, too, Dean. Just remember: play the game right, and you'll always win."
Various strains of chaos that rang around the room couldn't hope to distract him, sights locked on the older man as he shifted away. What he uttered next didn't quite register.
"... Wh- ..." Was the reactive response. Doubt arrived in abrupt, unpleasant waves. He'd almost convinced himself this was all an act. But no, there wasn't the slightest risk to take by at least addressing him by his real name, and not the ridiculous fake one they'd labeled him under, considering the nurses were too tied up with other patients to eavesdrop. He had to glance to the side for a moment, allowing a pregnant pause, his eyes narrowing as he began to feel out the presence of this anomaly.
"... Dad, c'mon," he spoke quietly, following the instinct to maintain the impression this was a hush-hush conversation, although an inkling of a laugh rattled his tone. A nervous smile twitched at the corners of his mouth before a look of genuine concern developed. "It..." He hesitated, kick-starting self-consciousness as he pushed himself to think of this as a test. "It's me, Dean."
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"Looks like this place ain't doing its money's worth, then." He held his hands together, letting out a long sigh before he looked back up at his son. "Jack, the reason we put you here was because of this whole 'Dean' business. Rambling at us about ghost-busting and demon-hunting..."
He trailed off, then tilted his head and gave Jack a hard look.
"Hell, the Impala's getting rusty and your mom's worried sick. You think you could at least try to get better?"
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"The hell's the matter with you?" Choking softly on the last syllable, his deadpan voice seemed to emphasise just how perplexing this was for him, head tilted as he took a small step forward, scrutinising the subject. Either this was a brainwashed version of Dad, or some sick bastard posing as John Winchester in order to knock the one and only Dean Winchester off his feet with bogus allegations.
The latter Winchester's tongue was momentarily caught by mention of the deceased.
"... Mom?" He grimaced, gulping as he mechanically chose to tread this rocky path in conversation. "... Dad, Mom's..." Alive and breathing. Apparently. He pursed his lips, his gaze again straying from his 'father'. This was bullshit. Mom, she... damnit, he didn't wanna think this over right now! Not while working through the abnormality that was the man in front of him. He knew this was his chance to score points with the guy... and as painful an experience this was, how torturous a challenge it might be, something knocked at the door to his current processes:
The obligation to take the heat for Sam, like always.
"... How, uh... How is she? Other than... uh, 'worried sick'." It was an awkward set of motions that managed to reduce the distance between him and 'Dad', though he was sort of towering over the seated man by this point.
... Never mind the car. Little rust'd never hurt his baby.
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He took in a long breath and rested his hand on his knee.
"It's all in your head, son. Ever since the car crash and the coma..."
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The faint glare diminished, brow no longer furrowed and his mouth drawn into an unyielding frown. He swayed cautiously on his feet, a glossy layer budding over his hard eyes. After a substantial silence, the younger man moved in a surprisingly calm fashion as he lowered himself into a chair beside his visitor.
He stared at - rather than into - the other man's face, gently clearing his throat.
"Dad I'm sorry." He'd established a hard-bitten tone; jaw twitching as he mustered an unblinking front. "I know I- I've let you down before, but..." An unadorned smile crept across his expression, the final word resonating as a strangled mumble. Another hush ensued while Dean went about locating those goddamn reins he'd been holding earlier.
"... Don't you worry." He gave a firm nod, stubborn sights permanently set upon his 'father'. "I'm 'a do whatever it takes to get better. I promise."
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