ataraxionlogs | put me in the hospital for nerves and then they had to commit me

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put me in the hospital for nerves and then they had to commit me

CHARACTERS: Alex "talkin' to myself" Shepherd, his poor CR, and aaanyone else who runs into him.
LOCATION: Lots of places. Scattered through the following week.
WARNINGS: General 'craziness' brought about by mask issues. Not sure where the threads'll go, but it could get a little dark if it takes that turn toward Bad Memory Lane. Alex isn't gonna be violent in any unplanned circumstance, but he may see your character as someone else, or something to that effect.
SUMMARY: Alex put on his mask a while back. On the 9th he put on the mask again. He saw some pretty bad things. The 10th, and Alex is pretty sure what he feared might be coming true. It'll take a little fixing up to make this engine rumble right again.
NOTES: Prose or action fine. And of course like usual, A-OK with any character interaction at any point in this narrative.

(Nov. 10th)

He's lost track of time again. Not in the way you do aboard the ship, either. Sometimes he loses pieces and ends up somewhere with no memory of traveling. It's mostly when he wakes up from sleeping (if he even wakes up at all before he leaves). Ever since he'd put the mask on yet another time and saw vacant dead eyes of too many people (wheeler riddled with holes, holloway with a gushing chin, mom and dad, halved, his brother soaked in lake water), he'd hid that thing away in his room and struggles to keep away from it. It's weird, because he's had that sensation before, like the mask were pills given to him day after day to ease his freewill. The mask itself is simple: A very angular red shape that fits against and around the face like a overwhelming bird beak; he'd have to be a complete moron not to know what it was referring to.

At any rate, he decided not to touch the damned thing again. Hopefully. But even trying to keep the urge to wear it at bay wasn't helping the fact that its already done the damage. Today he snaps awake and finds himself lying across the steps in the pool, half hanging out with his hand on the ledge. It shakes him up enough that he paces out of there, toward the showers and blasts himself with ice-cold water with his clothes still on—minus the heavy jacket. At this point, just to make sure he's awake.

("Did I say you could touch my jacket?")

He leans on the wall and feels frozen there for a moment, water dripping off chin and nose. Eventually he just walks back to his room, cold and wet but at least entirely lucid. He hasn't entirely holed himself up; that'd just make certain convicts upset with him. His 'patrolling' takes the stage front and center, and whatever work he'd done in the gardens was halted altogether. He doesn't go back to say so, either.

(Nov. 12th)

He'd fallen asleep after a few long hours of scribbling on the walls. Originally, he'd wanted to snoop, see if he could see anything regarding Chase's vision. Nothin'. So he just scribbled up the walls more with useless little pictures. He draws until his wrist cramps a little (and people may or may not pass by; he might invite them to draw if they want).

He wakes up leaning on one of the walls further out in the ship. There's a moment where he looks around, bleary-eyed, and glances up to a burn mark on the wall that a certain little girl had left back then, when they drew together; yeah, where she'd drawn a thing with a pyramid-shaped head and then zapped it out of existence for his sake. He wasn't scared of it like he used to be.... Wonder where that place was, that Murphy drew all those words at, though. Alex remembers going back and scratching it all out for him... He wonders if Murphy really could get it. That feeling like you slip away for a second, lost in your own... burdens? Thoughts? Memories? Who knows at this point.

"Mr. Shepherd, you--

--need to take your--"

"--been prescribing-"

"Shut up." His hands draw in towards his ears, as if a piercing sound had reverberated through the halls. He winces at the sensation, all the while bitter with the implications of hearing what isn't really there. Not that he didn't already have plenty of implications that he wasn't doing as well this month. "Just... shut the fuck up."

Or at least stop talking so loud. Christ.

(Nov. 14th)

Wakes up at the pool again. He just sits with his legs in the water, thoughtfully staring down into the scarcely rippling waters. Alex was afraid to visit here sometimes. Had a... dislike of anything like it, honestly.

For some reason, he feels okay. Sometimes he forgets why he didn't like it in the first place. Other times, he remembers how much he swam around in Toluca Lake, with his brother.

Wonder where Josh could be now...?

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Alex doesn't even notice the kid yet. Too busy realizing where he is, realizing he doesn't remember how he'd gotten here. He clumsily drags himself backward up the steps until finally he's resting beside the steps on his knees, where his hand drags through his hair and he utters a panicked curse under breath. Why? Why here? What's going on—

He's gotta' get outta here. But of course, when he goes to stand up he finally notices the little boy sitting on the other side of the pool; unsurprisingly, he startles at the unexpected sign of life; then again, maybe this kid isn't even real. Wouldn't be the first time he's imagined someone who wasn't there, and his brother is a sad reminder of that.

His hand's over his heart, and he sighs. There's uncertainty in his voice when he speaks, like he's testing reality (and yet he talks like he's talking to a kid anyway; keeps his tone careful and gentle).

"—Scared me there."

"You were sleeping in the pool." Around the pool, but Cid doesn't really see the difference. He's staring at him, face maybe a little too serious. But Cid's always been a little too serious.

He remains on the other side of the pool, though, still sitting. Watching him.

"I thought you were dead."

"Yeah? Not exactly, nah. I've had some pretty close calls, though."

Kid looks young. Really young. When was the last time he'd seen a kid so small, anyway? He's been locked up for a good long while back in the hospital, and then... well, Josh and the other kids were all grown up into teenagers... Would've been, anyway. He smiles a little, but it's sheepish, as he just sits across from the kid—straight across, like people at each end of a dinner table. Whatever the case, the panic he'd had a moment ago is sacrificed for the sake of the child, because... well. Kid.

He leans on his knee, eyebrow raised.

"Nobody keeping an eye on you? Or... maybe you're pretty good at sneaking off?"

"I didn't want to do my math," Cid says simply. Yes, he's good at sneaking off. Very good.

There's a pause as Cid backs up, moves around the pool, and he waits until he's closer to the other before speaking again. His voice is very flat, not that excited for much of anything, it seems. Even if he's curious and it shows in his face.

"Why were you near a pool? You're not supposed to sleep here."

"Not a fan of math, either," he adds (and man, he can sympathize). He looks up at Cid, not moving from his spot at all; the image of kids running away from him is pretty much a given, thanks to Silent Hill. So rather not make the kid think he's dangerous. He looks down at the pool, stomach uneasy. "I, uh... used to really like hanging around water like that. Guess not so much anymore; doesn't make me feel better like it used to."

Edited 2012-11-15 06:57 (UTC)

"So why are you here?" Cid doesn't get it--but he is leaning over the edge of the pool like Alex had been, squinting. As if the water held some kind of secret.

But, still. He lifts his toes to get further away from the edge, to look into the water. Nearly looses his balance and he's back with both feet planted firmly on the ground, moving a few steps backwards. That was close.

"I—"

Aaaand that's all he manages before Cid scares him. God, kid, don't give him a heart attack. He'd got to one knee with his hand held out protectively before he even had a chance to think—it works as a guard, limb jutted in front of the boy's chest to catch him should he really lose his balance. Too many unpleasant memories, too many horrible outcomes he's thought of. He sighs and puts that same hand over his chest when Cid steps back.

"Careful, kid; there's enough danger around here without pools."

"Everyone keeps saying that." Cid's watching the other's hand, taking in how the other's instinct was to immediately protect him. He's not one to trust--Sara has drilled that into his mind--but he's a little more open about it than his mother. Perhaps it's because of the man that was protecting both of them..

He's here now, but who knows? Maybe he needs more people. Maybe he doesn't need any at all. Cid has already made a very important decision: this is a guy that can be trusted. The Harrington boy is a lot smarter than he looks.

"You never answered my question," He points out. "Why are you here?"

He talks a little too well for a kid his age, Alex thinks. Or maybe its the fact that talking about this is difficult enough. But Alex wasn't much of a liar, not unless it was a severe situation, or someone who deserved to be lied to. This was neither. He sugarcoats a bit anyway, because leaving out why you're lying in a pool is a good idea.

"I sleepwalk sometimes. I woke up here this time."

"It's okay." Cid's nodding to him, as if pleased with the turn of events. He got an answer, and he liked getting answers. He liked them a lot.

So he shifts and, being careful not to be near the pool, he makes himself at home by sitting down on the concrete, crossing his legs. Staring at Alex. But Cid has a tendency to stare at everyone he's curious about.

"My mom put locks on my doors. Maybe you should."

Regardless of anything odd about the kid, Alex hardly cares; he'd been around kids more than he had adults or teenagers, back in high school. Chalk it up to being big brother and watching a lot of the other kids wandering around the town or coming over to play. Kids like Scarlet, like Joey. It's a solemn thought that passes quickly.

He smiles—it's little crooked, humored by such a pathetic thought. Yeah. Give the 22-year-old a lock to put on his door; is that what its come to, Shepherd? This kid's probably got a better grip on his life than you.

"That wouldn't happen to be because you like sneaking out to places like the pool room, would it?"

Edited 2012-11-27 10:01 (UTC)

Cid grins right back, all smiles and missing tooth. "Maybe." But that's a yes. He pulls his knees up, rocks back and forth because he doesn't really like staying still on this ship, he's decided. Makes him uncomfortable, puts him on edge.

So he shrugs. "Sara says I need to stay still but I don't like staying in my room."

"Sara?" Wait, his mom's really here? It sounds like he's not particularly alone with anyone other than someone he knows. If Sara's mom, then... well, that's relieving. It's good that a kid has his mom here. "You know what? I don't like staying in my room either. It gets kinda boring, huh? It's nice to stretch your legs."

He tilts his head to the side, frowning.

"... I'm guessing Sara doesn't know you're gone."

"No." Cid shrugs, but when he looks up it's with a teeny-tiny smile. "She likes to worry." And it's not a bad thing, either. Especially because with a kid like Cid, Sara should be cautious. But Cid nods to Alex.

"Do you have a kid?"

"... No. Not me." It's spoken with a tiny, sad little smile, because honestly... the thought of having kids scares him. If any woman would really want to deal with him after all of this? Well, he'd fuck everything up with the paranoia that he'd ruin his odds. He knows he'd never be like his father—never—but there still leaves the fact that maybe he's just not good enough for that...

"Is Sara a good mom to you? She sounds like she's a good one."

Lilian had never bothered really caring where he was...

"We can talk while I walk you back home? It's not that safe around a ship like this. We should stick with our friends and family around here, y'know?"

Cid nods, figuring there's no harm in the other delivering him back. He's almost done, anyway. And the only reason he'd wandered out was because of a mixture of boredom and curiousity. Both had been sated, for now, thanks to Alex.

So he gets up, shakes himself off a little and quietly moves small legs towards the much older man. Walking back to his mom seems nice, he thinks. Now.

"Yeah, she protects me. I used to think she was bad. Do you have someone to take care of you?" Cid asks, blinking, looking up.

His smile falters a little, but he keeps it anyway, looking back to the door and moving when the other seems like he's ready to go. But there's some confidence gained when he finally replies. "Yeah. I have people here... good, nice people. They take really good care of me."

He looks back down to the child.

"It's nice, having someone there to take care of you, huh?"

"I want to take care of them, too. But I can't." Cid's expression doesn't necessarily darken, but it does take on a different expression--perhaps too serious for a five year old, though he reaches his hand up, wanting to hold Alex's. It's easier to keep pace like this.

"That's why I want a gun."

...

"I understand... When I was little, I wanted a gun, too."

He wanted to be 'strong', like his father. In the end, it didn't change much. Just made him a little better at shooting creatures in the face. Alex lets the boy take his hand without any complaint, even if something icy and pained fills his heart up; yeah, Cid's not the first kid to hold his hand like this. When they were younger and Joshua was nervous, he'd reach over and hold his hand.

Things changed since then.

He bites his lip, letting the other lead the way.

"Guns help sometimes... but sometimes they do more bad than good. You should wait to get one when you're a little bigger, so you don't accidentally hurt the people you want to keep safe like some people do by mistake..."

Cid freezes.

He freezes and his had tenses up and when he looks at Alex, he's holding onto his hand. Maybe it's a little too tight, but Cid's shaking his head. Refusing to move.

He knows. He knows, he knows, he knows but Cid knows that he can't know. That that's stupid, that he's overreacting. He has to calm down. He has to make sure he'll be okay.

Alex doesn't know. He can't. He doesn't know he cannot know he doesn't he--

Cid can't help it:

"I didn't mean to...."

Edited 2012-12-15 08:00 (UTC)

He tilts his head, confused for a moment, like he'd done something just now Alex wasn't aware of. Then he realizes he must be referring to the gun talk, and very calmly and carefully squeezes Cid's hand.

"Hey. Look at me."

He slowly crouches down, and the look he has is anything but judgmental—or disappointed. He didn't need to know what the kid had done; the fact of the matter was, he was a kid. When Josh died, Alex was too old to have an excuse; he hates himself every day for what happened, wonders often if he should've died after that to compensate for the pain he'd caused.

But this is just a little boy. And he knows how it feels, to be scared of the way people look at you. And for doing something without meaning to, afraid of consequences.

"I don't know what you did, but whatever it was... I understand. I hurt someone I wanted to protect, and I didn't mean to do it... So don't worry about feeling that way around me, okay?"

"I want to be good," Cid insists, and he's squeezing the other's hand tight, tight tight. He almost thinks he's going to break it. "And then.. And then I did it again."

He's shaking his head now. "There are monsters on this ship. What if I'm one of them? Maybe that's why I'm here and my mom is here on accident...."

He shakes his head, keeping his gaze level and soft.

"You're not a monster. There are people here who can be monsters, but not you, kiddo. If you wanna be good, I believe you can be good. And if you keep trying, I'll keep trying, too. Okay? We'll keep an eye on each other and make sure we don't turn into monsters."

He nods, brows furrowed and voice cautiously hopeful.

"Sounds okay?"

"Can we do that? Can we not turn into monsters?" But Cid knows Alex isn't lying about telling him this--because he notices that look. He's seen it in Sara sometimes, seen it in the way she looks at him after he's had a tantrum. After everything happened.

"...I'm glad."

"Yeah. Yeah, me, too."

And Alex smiles, moving to stand back up.

Something about this hurts him--holding a boy's hand, calming him, letting him know everything'll be alright... it brings back memories. Most of them are good, and that's why it hurts so bad.

"We won't turn into monsters. Me and you, we'll be okay."

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