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scossaelettrica in stedelweisslogs

don't you mess with a little girls dream cause she's liable to grow up mean;

Jan 16, 2009 03:14

Day: 21
Characters: Mello [strategicbail], Elle Bishop [scossaelettrica]
Summary: ~*THERAPY*~
DAY/NIGHT & Time: NIGHT | evening
Status: closed; complete

( there has to be more to life than this, because in our... confrontation with a cold cold universe, there is something comical to the idea that we can really impose our... our will on humanity-- power corrupts; and at the end of it all lies, of course the final phenomenon of deterioration entropy, which is a predictable disintegrations which the creative life ceases: everything has to fall apart; )

:therapy, #place: therapy rooms, † elle bishop, † mello

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scossaelettrica January 18 2009, 07:31:47 UTC

She had expected him to at least protest a little, but instead he was acting perfectly nice about it. It was refreshing, however alarming it might have been as well, and together she started up a slow, steady pace through the hallways with him, trying to figure out how long she could stall what she knew she had to do.

"I'm really sorry, you know," she started, hanging her head a bit, only speaking after a little while. "I'm not going to take away your memories. But..."

The but was the disconcerting thing in that sentence. Something else. Worse? Better? No way to tell.

"I have to thank you, too. For... being so cooperative."

She walked around for a while more with him, and it was more than obvious that she had passed several therapy rooms by the time she was rounding about again and repeating the path.

She obviously didn't wan to get started on this anytime soon.

"Sorry, I'm stalling," she muttered, sighing softly. "I want to do this about as much as you do."

At least she could move again, right?

She wasn't really sure whether she could consider that a plus at this point, anymore.

strategicbail January 18 2009, 09:02:32 UTC

The edges of Mello's mouth might have turned up slightly while her eyes were elsewhere, a brief sharpness passing over tired eyes. The look was gone as soon as it appeared, the blond willing his expression neutral. While he wasn't sure exactly where they were going, her hesitation was a promising sign. It might not save him from whatever this "therapy" had in store for him, but that didn't mean it worked in his favor any less.

"If you've been in trouble already," he said quietly, "then you probably shouldn't risk getting in any more. You're just doing your job, right?"

He made his interest in the surrounding corridors obvious, glancing from door to door in honest curiosity. Where would he be taken?

scossaelettrica January 20 2009, 20:01:00 UTC

If they did, she didn't notice. It wasn't that she was trying to pry, anyway, though in this case her wayward attention seemed to have much more to do with the way her stomach was knotting together and the way she was dreading having to hurt him.

... especially when he was acting so nice. A guilty conscience never did much to promote harming another human being.

"Why are you being so nice?" she asked, slight whimper evident in her voice. It probably sounded-- and was-- much closer to why are you making this so goddamn difficult for me, but, well.

"Come on," she finally said, somewhat reluctantly, looking downright pitiful in her position, opening the door for him to one of the therapy rooms. "It's not much, just an injection."

strategicbail January 20 2009, 20:17:41 UTC

An injection? A needle that could be full of any number of things he'd rather not have in his body. Since when was an injection considered 'therapy'? Weren't they giving him medication through his food anyway? Could this be some sort of brainwashing agent they needed to get directly into his bloodstream? Or a disease? The possibilities were endless if they were all a bunch of lab rats to them.

Mello froze in the doorway, body hesitant to enter as his thoughts raced to find a way out of things. It was with a great deal of force that he kept his voice calm. "You don't want to do this," he said. It wasn't a plea for mercy, as much as he desired it, but a statement of fact - a reason for his cooperation.

His hands remained in his pockets. Finally, slowly, he took a couple steps inside. "Are there cameras for this?"

scossaelettrica January 20 2009, 20:34:44 UTC

It could be worse, admittedly. Especially given what Elle could do. Did he know, she wondered?

It probably wouldn't make a difference to him, either way. He was still being injected. It was still his proverbial funeral. Well-- he wasn't going to die. But, still.

Sighing, her shoulders slumped visibly and she looked downright devastated. "No. I don't. Never have. I really, really don't want to. I mean, it's not even like--" cutting herself off, she wasn't about to tell him how it could be about ten times worse if he liked Claire at all, even just as a friend, or... a person. "It doesn't matter." Shaking her head, she added, "of course there's cameras. There's cameras everywhere. Even in the showers and the bathrooms."

strategicbail January 20 2009, 21:18:31 UTC

Mello had assumed as much - practically been told as much, but it was better to hear it from one of the staff members (for as much as he shouldn't be trusting them). He sighed, brushing his hair away from his face in a brief show of anxiety before stepping the rest of the way in.

If he struggled, he was just going to be injected anyway - perhaps worse. Generally, he fared well at getting out of these situations before being incarcerated, but in this case he hadn't been given that opportunity. Getting out of this place was going to be much more difficult without outside help.

And as Matt had mentioned, though he didn't think his friend was quite yet aware of his own situation, he'd already died once. What was he supposed to do when he got out? "Then do it."

scossaelettrica January 20 2009, 21:33:43 UTC

Nodding, as if her only will came from his command, she grabbed one of the syringes from the cabinet, gesturing for him to sit down as the door closed behind them.

The regular stuff. Pulling his sleeve up, antiseptic, cleaning the area... she closed her eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath, as if trying to convince herself that this was her job, and then she pushed the needle in.

The poison was slow-acting, but nevertheless effective. She wished there was some way to tell him that it would wear off after some time-- a few days at most-- but like she'd said already, with the cameras here, doing as much was hopeless. She didn't want to hurt him, didn't want to hurt anyone, but she didn't have a choice.

It would enter his bloodstream, rushing through and through until it reached his brain.

She might be gone by the time it did anything, but there was no way to be sure. Either way, the second it reached his brain, he wouldn't be able to see a thing.

He hated feeling helpless, out of control-- his chart had said as much. He was a sociopath, just like her, and to him, losing a sense could potentially be worse than losing a limb.

At least, that's what they'd told her when she'd gotten her chart for the therapy.

She just hoped it would come back soon.

"Okay," she whispered, head hanging, pulling the syringe out again and throwing it in the trash.

She felt so drained, and she'd hardly done anything. Somehow she felt if he'd fought, it might have been easier.

strategicbail January 21 2009, 00:24:36 UTC

It would be best, he decided, to sit still and see what happened before making any sudden movements. He did turn to look at Elle slowly, however, making sure to keep his expression neutral.

"Are you going to take me back?" It might say something about what they'd given him, depending on her response. That was, of course, unless it was going to become readily apparent. "Or am I supposed to be left here?"

scossaelettrica January 21 2009, 01:29:21 UTC

"Yeah," she said at first, before realizing her mistake. "That-- um. That is, if you want me to. If you don't, that's... that's okay. If you just want to walk back by yourself, I don't mind. You can to that. Or I can bring you back."

She was feeling horrible, right about now. Granted, she had every reason to. There was that little question of whether he'd make it back to his room before his sight disappeared, but decided that he'd probably find his way back anyway. He seemed like a smart guy, anyway.

"It's up to you, really."

strategicbail January 21 2009, 02:55:43 UTC

"I'd prefer it." The hesitation was noted. Mello was willing to believe she honestly felt bad. Her actions until now said as much, and she was a damn good actress otherwise. The fact that she'd answered yes so quickly told him he might be needing the help, though he'd yet to feel anything out of the ordinary aside from the twisted knot in his gut due to worry over the outcome.

He blinked rapidly for a moment, rubbing at his eyes. The irritation was soon gone, however, and he continued to remain still.

"I've at least been lucky in some respect," he said with a wry smile, trying to keep himself calm. "The person in charge of my treatment could have been anyone else."

scossaelettrica January 23 2009, 15:36:41 UTC

"Yeah. Okay." Nodding, she just sort of took his arm, slowly leading him back to his room, face a somber one, the emotions running through her strangely sobering in the wake of the last few days.

"I'm glad you think so. I, uh-- don't tell anyone, yeah? My job is, ah..." Shaky, at best?

She knew the precarious position she was in, but in the end it was all worth it, right?

Yeah.

The thought made her smile a little. The way back seemed much shorter than the way there. The worst was over, after all.

"It was only an injection, right? It could have been worse, and all." She hung her head, feeling a little guilty. "Sorry I can't tell you more," she whispered, nodding, before just rounding the corner and disappearing down the narrow hallway, guilt following her right behind.

He'd figure it out soon enough.

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