claire_ity
in
damned
Dayshift 22: Chapel
Claire woke up in her room just like before, with little idea of how she actually got there. This time, though, she noticed something different about the room. There was another young woman, a blond, sleeping in a bed across from her. Before questioning that, though, she made sure to hide the items she'd gotten that night in her closet, shutting
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But he recognised the footsteps which approached him and the cool stare resolved itself into something more familiar, something which made his stomach twist and tension rise in his body.
His hands clenched in his lap and he'd thought he was prepared for this moment, this reckoning, but the sound of his voice made Yohji's breath catch in his throat. He licked his lips, an almost nervous gesture before replying. "Aya."
He turned to the other man, regarding him with a mixture of relief and hurt and fear. He smiled weakly, a ghost of hisold one. "Never expected that you'd be the one Kritiker sent to kill me." Because what else could it be? He'd fucked up, become a liability and he'd probably only been put here to give the people in charge time to decide if they could still use him. But to send Aya...
He sighed, leaning back on the bench and resting his arms behind his head. "I never got to return your katana. I'm sorry." And there was a whole lot more he needed to apologise for, but if he started, then they'd be here all day and Aya doubtless had more important things to do.
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"I'm not here to kill you, stupid," he muttered before leaning back against the bench, head tilting back as he let his gaze flutter up to the ceiling. "And don't be. It's just metal." He meant the katana of course, but didn't bother saying so.
A shrill of muted pain throbbing through him, Aya winced as he felt the painkillers or perhaps sedatives or both lose their grasp on him. He hunched his shoulders a bit, hand coming up to press against his side where he had been stabbed. It didn't make sense, it should have hurt more.
Nothing really did make any sense, not even with Kurama's short briefing on the situation. Aya felt totally lost, trapped, suffocating.
"I thought you were dead," he finally muttered, tone forcibly calm.
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"Huh. Maybe they do believe in second chances." Or third or fourth or whatever number he was on by now. "Still doesn't explain why you're here. They said visiting hours were this afternoon." He took a moment to examine Aya more closely, noting that he wore the same clothing as Yohji himself. "You aren't meant to be here, Aya," he said with a frown. Kritiker had no reason to put Aya in a place like this. None.
The sudden movement, as though of pain made Yohji's eyes widen in worry, automatically leaning towards Aya to check for injury. "You hurt?"
The muttered question startled him a little but he shrugged it off. "Not the first time a building's collapsed on me, right?"
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He leaned back and tried to relax, Yohji's worry only managing to annoy him. He was fine! And yet, Yohji was one of the very few people he'd accept fussing over his injuries. The reason was complicated and he knew not how to dress it into words. But it also was the sole reason why he'd forgive Yohji, time after time. The playboy betrayed him in small and not so small ways, and Aya would eventually still decide to give in. Maybe it was because of Yohji's charisma, or because of something else. It didn't matter. Aya knew why Yohji did what he did, and that was enough.
"You say that as you'd know who is and who is not supposed to be here. Do you know what this place is?" He shook his head, pulsing of his headache making him wince again. "Do you know what day it is? They apparently have shot me full of drugs." His voice was a bit weak, maybe a hint slurred from the meds.
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He sat back on the pew, resting his arms along the back of it, legs stretched out in front of him in a lazy sprawl.
"It's a mental hospital," he replied flatly, mind working quickly to decide what he should tell and what he should leave out. Telling him about the night... it was so implausible during the day, and if Aya was here for Kritiker and heard Yohji talking about it... heh, he'd be in here forever if they didn't want him dead. He gave a brittle smile. "I figured this was where I belonged, where Mamoru... where Kritiker thought I should be." He frowned at Aya, still not quite able to bring himself to meet the other man's eyes. "But you're fine... why would they...?" He shook himself away from that line of thought, focussing on answering Aya's direct questions. It was easier that way. "Sunday, I think. That's what they said anyway."
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"Hn... Do you think it could be Kritiker's facility?" he asked with low voice. Yohji was right, Aya was safe as long as it came to productivity. But what he did not know was that Mamoru was quite not the kid they worked with back when Weiss was still just the four of them. Mamoru would sell all of them and probably several times for his new 'family' if the need be. "If so, I deserve to be here just as much as you."
He frowned, glancing Yohji from the corner of his eye, dark red bangs veiling his vision slightly. "...Yohji. Are you..." Okay? How could he ask that from a person who had been willing to throw all his memories away gladly? "...so, your injuries have healed?" Aya finished silently, not being able to ask what he wanted, even if the drugs had loosened his tongue a bit.
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He leaned in close, allowing him to speak more quietly and still have Aya hear it. "I don't know," he answered truthfully. "There was a doctor the other day, he didn't seem to know anything about me. If they were Kritiker, you'd think they'd know everything." And if it was an attempt to deal with their mental problems so they could still function as killers, then they'd definitely know about them. "They use different names too." He bit his lip, mulling over some of the more unpleasant theories he'd come up with, but he needed to know more before he could elaborate.
He flashed Aya a smile. "Me? I'm just fantastic." He took a deep breath, voice cracking slightly as he continued. "How can you ask that? So fucking calm! I tried to kill you, Aya. You should be glad I'm locked up. You should have killed me back there."
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"I know!" he hissed, finally whipping his glare back at Yohji and pinning him down with it. "I know!" There was the anger he'd been trying to conceal, the guilt and fear. "You do not have to remind me of that. I knew something like that would happen, but both you and Mamoru refused to listen. Why couldn't you just break away back then?" Normally, Aya wouldn't have said any of this, maybe it was because of the situation, or the drugs, or both.
His heart was beating so fast, breathing erratic, a wave of nausea and dizziness washed over him and he doubled over again. Another arm propped to the back of the next pew, cheek leaning against his wrist, he still refused to let go of Yohji's hand.
"We need to get out of here," he whispered, the darkness behind his lids spinning. It already had changed into we instead of him at the mere sight of Yohji. Damn his attachments and stubborn nature, he'd never abandon any one of them again.
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"'Cause that was going so well," he said, sarcasm trickling into his voice. "You saw me. I was a wreck. I'd have ended up snapping and in prison or one of these places even if I hadn't rejoined Weiss."
Aya doubled over again and Yohji touched his back with his free hand, concerned for him. Was this some kind of allergic reaction to the drugs? If it was then this could be really bad. And then he spoke, and even in the middle of looking like he was gonna' convulse, Aya was the voice of practicality.
"Easier said than done," Yohji said dryly, deciding to bite the bullet. Maybe it'd convince Aya that he wasn't worth it. "It's not exactly a normal hospital."
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"It never is, is it?" he said finally, tired of arguing with Yohji. He fell silent again, not knowing what to say to anything Yohji had spat out. If it was true what Kurama and Yohji had said, he had no hurry anyhow. The only thing he knew that there was no doubt about Yohji being himself, always thinking about Yohji. What he had done when rejoining Weiss and what he could have done without didn't much differ from each other.
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Aya's dry comment brough a soft snort of laughter from him. "Yeah, I guess not." he sighed softly, steeling himself for the reaction he'd probably get. "It changes at night. Doors open, you get attacked by giant scorpions and little mud... things." Now that he said it out loud and in the light of the morning... well, he really had to doubt it himself. How sure was he that it wasn't just hallucinations and nightmares? He really needed to find Cliff, make sure it'd actually occured.
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Straightening to sit up, he took Yohji's hand from his side and moved it aside, his cold fingers brushing over the playboy's knuckles before pulling back to his lap. "As for what I did... I did nothing. Someone stabbed me. Boldly at the crowded street. That's when I ended up here." He did not mention that he had not called for help, surely thinking he would die. The slight regret in the soft sigh following his words.
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He raised an eyebrow at the startling news. Someone had dared to attack Aya in broad daylight? "An assassin?" he asked curiously. Their enemies had always worked more covertly than that.
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Feeling a shiver run down his spine, he wrapped his arms around himself and pulled one knee up to prop his feet to the ledge of the bench even if the bandages tightened on his skin uncomfortably. "How big is giant?" he asked silently.
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His concern grew when he saw the shiver shaking Aya. This wasn't right. Aya was the one who was always determined, always there. Was he ill or something? Or was this place really affecting him so badly? He forced his mind back to the topic. "Ummm, 'bout the size of a medium-size dog, I guess." Okay, it didn't sound that big now, but the other night it had been a very big deal. And scorpions did not grow to the size of dogs!
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Catching Yohji's worried look, Aya straightened up, steeling himself for whatever was needed this time. Weakness didn't become him after all. "What do they call you? The nurse addressed me as Seto Kiyoshi."
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