Day 52: Library (2nd shift)

[longlivetehking]

Scar possibly couldn't have been more thrilled at the prospect of being escorted to the library. He had visited this particular room plenty of times to know that it was entirely useless and uninteresting - like most daytime activities, for that matter. Still, the nurse seemed rather convinced he'd like one of those silly books filled with papers

Comments

[quarter_english]

As soon as he heard his new acquaintance speak, L recognized the accent: Estuary English, a little like the faded hint of Winchester that was sometimes detectable in his own voice. It suggested that the man was probably a Londoner. If not, he had spent a lot of time in or around that city in the recent past. His voice was higher than L's, almost reedy in comparison, and he had an engaging air, one of intelligence and amiability.

L raised his eyebrows, which caused his eyes to widen, then glanced at the book. "No, not particularly. I seldom have time for fiction. I doubt, however, that the nurses would allow me to sit here for an hour without-- ahhh." Although his feet were on the floor, and he hadn't even attempted to perch on the seat of the chair, the ache in his lower back still distracted him. A definite twinge caused him to stiffen, straighten his spine, press his lips together, and tense and turn down the corners of his mouth.

After it passed, he exhaled, slow and cautious. His shoulders slumped again, and then after a beat, he shrugged. I can't see any point in trying to hide something as obvious as my condition, but people here can be injured in any number of ways, he thought; it wouldn't be obvious that he had been a victim of experimentation. "There's nothing I can do about the pain, at the moment." His best hope was that it would fade through the course of the day.

He decided that a topic change was in order, to shift conversational interest away from himself. "A minute ago: you were looking for someone?"

[timedork]

"Seldom have time for fiction?" the Doctor repeated in question. "That's a shame-especially around here. It would be a good time to catch up on some reading during the day... Well, could be. They don't exactly boast a large selection." A new selection of science fiction available or not, this library paled in comparison to the TARDIS library, or especially in comparison to the Library (infestation of Vashta Nerada aside).

Of course, the other man may simply have meant that he preferred non-fiction over fiction, but... Well, even 'non-fiction' had its own elements of fiction, when they'd gotten it all wrong.

The Doctor glanced down at his book once more, before closing it. He set it aside on the table, next to the stranger's own book, and then returned his full attention to the pale man. "I was... looking for a friend of mine, yes," he answered. He was reminded of Donna again by the bandage on the patient's head-she would probably look much the same today, when he found her... That didn't mean their situations were the same, but he gave the man a sympathetic look nonetheless. "Last night was... difficult, for her. I wanted to make sure she's alright, but I haven't seen around her yet."

He was starting to become just as concerned for this man as for Donna; it was obvious he was in pain from whatever injuries he'd gotten, especially when his words about it were taken into account. "But you... Can't the nurses give you something to help with the pain, or have they already?"

[quarter_english]

L frowned. A wave of disorientation followed, so he placed his left palm flat on the table to support himself. His gaze was steady and his tone calm as he replied, "There are more productive uses of time here--or uses that could be productive." He paused to let out a miserable sigh. "Maybe it's just wishful thinking."

If this man didn't think that they could someday turn the tables on their captors if they were careful in the application of their efforts, then why not? Was he content to wait, either to allow Landel's plan to play out, or to let others do the work of bringing Landel down? Or was it something else? Maybe he was trying to figure out who was active and who was passive. If that was the case, why?

L was sure that more possibilities existed, but in his current state, they were hard to quantify. At the same time, it was always better to avoid saying too much to a new acquaintance; he did what he could to avoid tipping his hand. The trouble was that wariness might lead him to say too little, and lose the chance to form a valuable alliance.

As he thought about it, the conversation moved to the friend, and then to L's own condition: a suggestion that he should look to the staff for help.

"I think they've done enough." He realized that his answer sounded short and bitter, so he continued, in a milder tone, "Aside from that, right now it's better that I'm aware of my limits." If he couldn't bear the discomfort, he would, eventually, ask for medication; there was also the disquieting possibility that it was already in his system, and that it would run out at some point during the day. That might explain the occasional waves of nausea, and his difficulty walking, but either could be explained without medication, too.

It would be better to shift the focus away from himself.

"What kind of trouble did your friend run into?" His interest was apparent in his voice.

[timedork]

"During the night, sure," the Doctor agreed with a small shrug. "Not much that can be done during the day, though, with the staff watching. Well, you could make plans for the night, try to find out from others what they know, but actually using the time to work towards any sort of real accomplishment? That would be stopped rather quickly, don't you think?"

He gave the man a friendly smile. "All I mean is that taking an hour or two out of the week to do a little reading wouldn't hurt. Might even help."

The Doctor couldn't argue with the man's other point, however; the staff certainly had done quite enough already. Maybe what went on after hours wasn't the nurses' fault-he liked to think it wasn't, in hopes that they were victims of deception rather than willing collaborators who knew well what those who should have been in their care were going through-but having a sense of bitterness towards them... The Doctor couldn't be sure of the man's circumstances, but from his rather obvious condition, he could understand that sense of bitterness, of resentment.

Instead of commenting further on the man's state, he promptly latched onto the man's question about Donna, the smile that had been on his face slipping away. "She... was taken, last night," he answered. "For the- the sleep studies."

[quarter_english]

"Active accomplishments, certainly," L replied, with raised eyebrows. "Still, while knowledge of all kinds may be useful, I don't think that anything we find in books here will have much practical application." Little was left for them to find that could constitute a clue. L was still convinced that his theory--that changing elements were more important than static ones in terms of his investigation of the Institute--would prove to be true.

The conversation moved to a topic that was more pertinent and interesting to him, and he was pleased, at first, by how easy it was to get the man to begin to talk about his friend.

"Mm," he replied, with a nod; the soft noise of acknowledgment preceded an intent expression. Focusing was more difficult for him than it should have been, but he gathered together the shards of his concentration and aimed them at the topic at hand.

When making a new acquaintance, L had a natural inclination to be suspicious of them. Sometimes, their stories were outlandish; in other cases, he had no idea how many of them were likely to misrepresent their own former importance, although he could guess based on certain behavioral cues. He had determined, early on, that most patients had a vested interest in leaving the Institute, but it would be naive to assume that everyone shared that goal. The best approach available to him was to make a decision about each person upon meeting and talking to them--to rely on his instincts--but he still wished that he had the time and resources for more thorough observation. He was irked by his inability to vet possible associates.

It was evident that Landel was childish, and most likely insane, but equally obvious that he wasn't a fool. Therefore, he probably expected patient plots against him. Either the balance of power was tilted in such a way that Landel didn't consider the patients a threat, or he had considered possible threats based on his personal knowledge of the patients, predicting their possible courses of action and planning against those contingencies, or he was able to keep tabs on them in some way. There was the watchful staff, the possibility of spies among the patients, and the possibility of hidden cameras and bugs. L hadn't found any of the latter, but it would help either to keep looking for them or to assume that they were there.

When he took all of those factors into consideration, it was easy for him to admit that they were discouraging... but what choice did he have other than to keep working? The doctor who had performed the procedure couldn't have any illusions about L's opinion of the situation, which meant that there was a strong chance that Landel was also aware of it. Furthermore, it would be easy for L to ask to meet his new acquaintance's friend and judge her condition for himself. It all led to one conclusion: the probability of the man being a spy for the Institute was low, because in this situation, a spy was unnecessary... and the concern in the man's expression appeared to be genuine.

"She's probably all right, or she will be. I can assure you that it won't have been an easy night for her; however, I haven't heard of any casualties directly related to the procedures. Please understand that I don't mean to downplay the severity, but to my knowledge, they're mostly minor procedures. Sometimes they have a psychological component." He had been able to gather little else, so far, from the notes Javert had given him; he'd had almost no time to study them.

"Your friend is strong, Mr...?"

[timedork]

The Doctor wasn't going to try to persuade the other man into taking time to read-it was true the practical application of fiction was a rather narrow field, but there were cases where it could come in handy. Very, very handy. But if he thought his time could be better spent towards other purposes-conversation, for one, which was useful in its own right-that was his choice.

"I'm the Doctor," he said, supplying the name the other had been fishing for. "Just 'the Doctor'. And my friend is-the one who was taken for the... procedure-'Donna' is her name."

He may not have asked for Donna's name as well, but the Doctor wanted to give it, in some slim hope that this man might have known her, might have seen her somewhere, and could tell him how she was since he hadn't found her yet to see for himself.

The Doctor gave the other man a small, albeit strained smile. "I'm sure she will be," he agreed. "Alright, I mean. Sooner or later. She's one of the strongest people I've known, but... I'm not entirely sure what they did to her, and it's the not knowing that-... Well, I'd just like to see that she's alright for myself. Tried to rescue her, last night, but by the time we got there it was already too late."