Cabin Fever

[bashfulshifter]

Characters: Patrick Dawn and OPEN
Setting: August 11th - Room 1-16/First Floor Dorms, Floor 26 (Morgue), Floor 15 (Workshop), Floor 81 (Fifth-Block Lounge). If it strikes your fancy, characters might also catch him in the Cafeteria for breakfast. POST EDIT: last prompt is in the stairwell, non-specific time near the middle/end of the week!
Format: Starting prose, can match!
Summary: Rick is forced to leave his room after two days to get some food and do his job. Following his death in the Monster Souls plot, there are quite a few people he doesn't want to run into; he will invariably do so. Also, some initial reactions to the Individuation event; last prompt goes further into the consequences.
Warnings: Lots o' angst, possible descriptions of character death/attempted suicide(?). I would not be surprised if there's some violence involved.

Room 1-16/First Floor Dorms: The Cabin in Question

Rick woke up that morning the same way he had the day before: listless, emotionally drained and lacking motivation to do anything more than walk down the hall for the bathrooms, then walk back and go to sleep again. He probably wouldn't have even recognized that it was morning, if not for the internal clock that was Rusty the cat, prodding at his mind as he dragged himself from his dorm.

The smells were strange on this floor again, Rusty complained with annoying persistence. He'd neglected marking for far too long, and that simply would not do. Also they hadn't eaten for two days--and Rick had to agree with the rest of his souls that this much, at least, was inexcusable. He lumbered back to 1-16 to change out of his pajamas...

...but such aspirations were struck down upon inspecting his sweater and pants. Burned, sliced and stained with blood. The massive cut across the front of his shirt which nearly split it in half. Nearly split him in half. The pain in their eyes as he tore them apart, ripping their minds open with their own pasts. Enoch's snarl when he brought the Arch down.

Hurt them so horribly...an emotional WRECK!

Rick dropped his ruined clothes on the ground and stumbled into bed, curled into a shuddering lump while he pushed away the concerned voices in his head. He hid his face in his arms to avoid the judging gazes of all the ones he'd hurt. Something so insubstantial as food would have to wait.

Floor 26 (Morgue): The Necessities

Once Rick was finally convinced to feed himself, he began his harrowing journey through the Tower for the first time in several days. He intended it to be a quick trip, but every time he tried to leave the room, some other dire task wormed its way into his subconscious.

His job, for example--cleaning and maintaining the morgue on floor 26. He'd neglected it for most of the last week due to obvious circumstances; the idea of how disgusting it must have gotten since then did not improve Rick's mood. Covered corpses and random bowls of entrails aside, keeping the place clean didn't phase Rick as much as it probably should. His task was to make those nasty things disappear, anyways. It was less of an inconvenience for him and more a service to everyone else that happened to stop by.

...As if anyone made a casual jaunt to the morgue. The relative isolation of the place also helped, along with the monotony of scrubbing grime and the satisfaction of using one's hands to fix and improve. So, as Rick had hoped, getting into the swing of cleaning successfully distracted him from the troubles of the past week, and so long as nobody came to interrupt him he would feel much better on the outset.

Floor 15 (Workshop): Attempted Repairs

The idea of forevermore wandering the Tower in his pajamas was sufficiently embarrassing enough for Rick to bring his tattered clothes and stop by the workshop, in the hope that they were still salvageable. Given their current condition the task was...daunting, to say the least. Rick had somehow managed to clean the blood out after scrubbing the morgue, and the clean cuts wouldn't be so bad to sew together, but the burns...when did he even get those? Why couldn't he remember?

Unsettled by a combination of his missing memory, the memories that remained, and the dawning realization that his favorite sweater might be irreparable, Rick stayed stationary at his corner of the room and stared, pensive and troubled, at the mismatched fabric strewn on the table in front of him. Of course, the workshop saw a much larger volume of patrons than the morgue did, and the idea of running into anyone was slowly beginning to cloud Rick's thoughts and make him very jumpy.

Floor 81 (Fifth-Block Lounge): The Retreat

Well, that was terrifying!

Rick collapsed into a lounge chair and buried his face in his hands. Part of that was in defense of every person he came into contact with throughout the day, known or otherwise; he had been in no position to be social, and the effects of being social anyways were crippling.

The other part was to pretend like the three shadow things grinning at him from across the room did not exist.

They're only Shades, he tried to convince himself, thoroughly rubbing his eyes before peering over his fingers to watch them. They were Shades, right? He asked them on the way up the stairs, but they were mute, or otherwise uninterested in responding...but he was fairly certain that's what they were. I mean, they just seemed far too familiar to not be Shades. There just...happened to be quite a lot of them, following everyone else in the Tower. And now also him. Well.

Their curious gazes remained locked on his own. Realizing that he was probably being terribly rude, Rick straightened in his seat and addressed them quietly:

"I-I'm...s-sorry. I d-don't think I-I c-can help you."

They didn't move, but one cocked its head inquisitively. Or, at least Rick thought it was being inquisitive. He sighed and slumped forward again, a familiar tightness forming in his gut, drawing him inward.

"...I--I don't th-think I-I c-c-c-can help...a-anyone..."

He took off his glasses and buried his hands in his hair, and then he gave up and shut out the Tower entirely.

Stairwell: If only she were here...

By the last half of the week, there was little hope to be had.

Rick collapsed in the stairwell. Frankly he'd expected this to happen earlier, after finally reaching the Cafeteria upon hiking down one-hundred floors at the start of the week since the elevators were out, but at least he could pace himself, take breaks, catch his breath every couple of flights. At this point he simply didn't have the energy to continue—not helped by the fact that he'd stopped eating again—certainly not helped by the shadow children hounding him at every corner.

Where had he even been walking to? Had he really just been wandering the stairwell the entire day? When did he last sleep? All unimportant questions; all Rick could fathom was that he was tired, so immeasurably exhausted to even continue onward. And now that he could rest, perhaps the voices of his friends could fill the void that the voices in his head, growing as faint as the hue of his collar, had so conveniently left him...

He figured out who they were by midweek. The two children that paced around one another were his best friends, the Epps twins. They were the most vocal, although they talked amongst themselves:

All that training for nothing, I guess, said the soft voice of Clayton, layered with pity. For someone so attached to the astral plane, you'd think he'd learn how to control his own powers better, huh?

Gary's voice, glaringly sharp in contrast, answered without pause. It's almost as if he wasn't prepared for the Tower at all! Geniuses, these administrators. Had to go and pick the most useless pile of spineless meat from our universe! What makes him so special? Well, Rick? C-C-C-C-C-C-Come on, chubby, answer me!

They were frustrated at him—Rick could recognize that. He deserved every insult they threw at him, no matter how much they hurt. But the third sang to him only briefly, and was the sweet siren call that finally pulled him to the floor.

...Honey? What's that in your pocket?

She knew what was in his pocket. Ashamed, Rick couldn't bring himself to move.

Rick. Look at me.

His face was still wet, but he didn't have the strength to cry. Rick slowly looked up and locked eyes with the child that had returned his curious glances since it had arrived, never blinking, keeping steady with the pinpoints of olive green above her toothy grin. She was close to him now; the twins continued to mock and chide, but their voices were quiet whispers, mere salt in his wounds. Codi knew her husband too well—she knew her quiet words would get his attention much more effectively than his friends' insults and screams.

Give me the ring, she said.

Rick shook his head, even though his hand was already reaching into his pocket.

Patiently: You gave that to me, remember? They took it from me. I want it back now.

He managed a sob—quick, gasping, like a single yelp of pain. "...P-P-Please...I-I-I-It's all I-I-I-I—"

—I am what you have left. I'm here. Isn't that what you wanted?

Clayton chimed in: You aren't happy to see her again? Did the last ten years mean anything to you?

Shivering uncontrollably, Rick palmed his wife's wedding ring and held it delicately in front of his face. Codi stared from behind it, unmoving.

Honey...I know this is painful. But the least you can do is let me rest peacefully. Just give me the ring. Let me hold you...

Slowly, wearily, Rick extended his hand.

Comments

Floor 26

[stitchedupbodyguard]

For some odd reason, Veronica found herself pulled to the various medical parts of the tower, including the morgue. There wasn't any particular reason why she was there, it just reminded her of back home. Her estate, the surgery rooms, apparently it's all gone now along with her entire planet.

She didn't believe that though, no matter how much they told her.

"Excuse me?" she peered over the counter at the man currently scrubbing one of the tables used for dead bodies.

[bashfulshifter]

So engrossed was Rick in his dutiful scrubbing that he failed to notice the girl enter until she was nearly in front of him, at which point he predictably started and backed away before (more or less) regaining his composure. Not that there was much left for him to gather; a pajama-clad man in his late twenties with a face that is both unshaven and rapidly turning bright red is not a man who has a lot to offer in terms of sophisticated social discourse.

That is to say, Rick is unable to answer. His expression does eventually settle into something less startled, though, and he manages to mouth a silent "yes?" It'd be rude of him not to address her, after all.

[stitchedupbodyguard]

Veronica's expression barely changes as Rick scrambles to pick himself up. His appearance didn't really mean anything to her, though she knew she had startled him, which left her a little embarrassed.

"S-sorry about that. I'm looking for someone, do you work here?"

[bashfulshifter]

Oh no--he'd made her uncomfortable, hadn't he? The blush tracked its way from Rick's cheeks to the base of his neck as he thought of the many ways he could continue to screw this conversation up.

"...U-Um...y-y-yes."

...And Veronica will need to do the leading from there. Rick was too busy staring at a point on the table just in front of her face to go into more detail, or extrapolate on who the "someone" is that she's looking for.

Floor 15

[immortalia]

Sertoria had found herself being able to somewhat relax after that whole ordeal. She was far from feeling okay once again, but she was on the road to recovery emotionally. So, to unwind slightly, she would find herself in the workshop that day working on a few of Doc's projects here and there. In her mind, as long as she had something to do to take her mind off of things, then she'd be able to heal.

Well, that was until she looked up and saw Rick in his own corner. Her normal soft blue eyes were narrowed in disgust at the boy as she turned her heel, focusing on anything that wasn't him.

Sertoria knew she said that she forgave Rick, but the wounds still stung horribly. Perhaps...

"Joshua, what would you do?"

[bashfulshifter]

For the time being, Rick was too engrossed in trying to figure out what--if any--fabric scraps could be used to patch the gaping holes in his shirt to catch Sertoria's presence, or her pointed heel-turn away from him. He did, however, hear her voice, and that snaped him back to reality quick enough to give him mental whiplash.

He straightened and turned to face her, but her back was to him and, try as he might, Rick was incapable of intentionally drawing her attention. It seemed like the right thing to do at first--this was the first time he'd seen Sertoria since he'd left her kneeling in the chapel, and though she'd more or less forgiven him over the network, it would take a lot more than than to assuage his frayed nerves. But there was so much he wanted to say--so much he felt needed to be said, but couldn't because of his own inability to express himself--that all he could do in the end was turn red and silently gape.

Then, horribly, the beginning of what would have been an apology clawed its way through Rick's vocal chords, and soon escaped as a strangled, apprehensive squeak.

[immortalia]

Sertoria soon had moved on to, yet again, organizing Doc's mess while Rick was in there. How the man worked in such clutter confused her greatly, but she had come to appreciate his chaos to her order. Still, while Rick was in there, she couldn't help but feel awkward even sharing the same space as him. Her back was still to him and she didn't seem to be shifting her position any time soon.

After all, he had hurt her rather badly.

Still, there was a nagging little thing in her mind to at least speak to him. See how he was... A little smile crossed her lips and she sighed. Joshua would have wanted her to check on him.

"Still think I should just deactivate myself, Patrick?" Her tone was colder than normal, brought to life with her robotic tone.

[bashfulshifter]

That comment stung as much as Sertoria probably wanted it to, if not more. Rick might not have been technically-minded--he didn't even fully catch the reference to Joshua, save that he'd name-dropped him during his tirade and, thus, he must be a very important figure to her--but one doesn't need extremely sharp deduction skills to understand what "deactivation" was roughly analogous to. And the notion that he could ever tell someone, with intentional malice, to...to kill themselves, struck Rick like a punch to the chest.

Once again Rick was unable to answer; this time, however, it's because he's desperately trying to choke back a sob. He dragged his eyes away from her back and leaned against the table, shivering while tears spattered his ruined shirt, paralyzed with dread.

Floor 81

[lightofhumanity]

chaos often came to this floor to stargaze. Though he knew that the stars weren't real, they were nice to look at, and they sometimes helped chaos think if he was trying to plan or understand something. chaos had intended to come here to think about the recent events, but he hadn't expected to see and sense Rick here..or the three shadow children crowding around him. Those puzzled chaos, since they did look a bit ominous and he couldn't get much of a sense off them.

Puzzled and a little worried about Rick,-who seemed to be feeling every bit of grief from what had happened when he was possessed-chaos walked towards the person, his smile gone. He had only managed to come into the room when Rick was speaking his last sentence, so he didn't catch what he had said before.

"Rick..what happened was not entirely your fault. You can still do some good for others..but what are these shadows?"

As he spoke, chaos saw a bit of movement out of his eyes and looked toward the entrance of the room..only to see five shadow children smiling and approaching him. And they felt a little..familiar. But..how and why? chaos didn't know, but it was probably best to help Patrick right now, so he fixed his gaze back on the person, trying to ignore the five children approaching him.

[bashfulshifter]

Rick barely lifts his eyes to see chaos at first, too emotionally drained to even acknowledge his claim. It was his fault, plain and simple. By no means did he ever plan on trying to shove the blame on someone--or something--else. And how could he ever hope to do good for people if they were too angry to let him? How could he ever focus on helping others when all he could think of were those he hurt, who could only forgive him in words but never in spirit?...

Expressing these thoughts all at once would have been hard enough, had chaos not drawn the topic of discussion to the shadow creatures. It was an almost welcomed distraction for him.

"I...I r-recog--recognize them," said Rick, combing a hand through his hair while reapplying his glasses. The ones following chaos were definitely similar in appearance, but...also distinctly different, somehow. Not at all familiar.

"...D-Do you...know...?"

[lightofhumanity]

In chaos's mind, Rick was not wholly responsible, even though his plan to add one of the monsters consciousnesses to his arsenal was a little foolish. He would have to keep apologizing and make it up to people by working hard to make things better..but he was not wholly responsible and he would have to keep walking, even though he might not feel like it.

"I see..I cannot tell yet, unless they speak. Assuming, of course, that they can. However..might you know who some of them are?"

[bashfulshifter]

Rick frowned and looked intently ahead at the three shadows that he recognized. They had since migrated away from the two fellows, bundled nearby but just out of striking distance. Two of them seemed to stick closer to one another than the third, but otherwise Rick couldn't pick out any distinguishing characteristics.

After much scrutiny, he gave up and forlornly shook his head. "...If they're S-Shades...I, um...I d-don't know..."

[myblueskies]

"Go away, leave mister Rick alone!" Romeo pointed his finger at the shadows, who did actually retreat at least a little bit, to the staircase.

Romeo skipped over. "I don't know what they are sir but they just keep following people."

[bashfulshifter]

Rick nearly jumped out of his seat as Romeo came charging at the shadows, although he did soften up when he recognized who it was and did his best to look more cheerful. Romeo may have encountered the man at his worst, but he was still a kid, and it felt improper to have to subject him to his personal woes.

The shadows were likewise forgiving, retreating briefly but soon making their weary way back across the room.

"--W-Why--?" Rick quickly wiped his red eyes and replaced his glasses, "J-Just because you d-d-don't know w-what...Why d-did you chase them o-off?"

[myblueskies]

"Because they were making you sad sir." Romeo explained, "They make people sad that's what they do. But they run away if you chase them."

[bashfulshifter]

They...were? Rick cast a puzzled glance at his trio of followers, which froze in place but otherwise seemed completely innocuous. He'd just assumed that he felt sad because...well, because everything. The shadows were alarming, certainly, but...Romeo had been in the Tower a lot longer than himself...did he know something Rick didn't?

"...H-How...?" Rick frowned and shook his head, mildly flustered. "...Has this...h-happened b-before?"

Floor 81

[nobarnacles]

Zelgadis has his own tail of shadows to worry about, three of them that slink around behind him and mumble through their grins. Why are they grinning like that? He doesn't trust anything that smiles too much, especially if he doesn't know why they're smiling.

His annoyance at them is enough to stave off any bad feelings they could possibly cause him. For now.

He came to the lounge to catch a break and stare out into the emptiness beyond the tower, but peering into the fog isn't actually making him feel any better; if anything, it's just a further reminder of his removal from his home world. Funny that a compulsive wanderer would actually feel homesick. The whispering chorus of shadows doesn't help. He's still ignoring them.

An actual voice cuts through the whispers, though, and he looks to its source to find Rick slumped over in the chair. He has no idea what sort of trouble the shapeshifter got up to after their monster hunt, though a whiff of the aftermath came through on the network. With a weary sigh, he crosses over to Rick; it's not particularly characteristic for Zelgadis to be comforting, but people who mean well shouldn't needlessly suffer.

"Hey. Don't make it your job to help everyone. There's too much going on here."

[bashfulshifter]

...Now there was a voice he didn't expect to hear. At least, not one he expected to hear in good favor.

Rick twisted his head up, arms still partially covering his face, still curled defensively inward. Somewhere in those covered shadows hid a tired half-smile, and cheeks that were both red and distinctly tear-streaked. He should have been weary of seeing him here, distressed by the notion of more hounding questions or barked, impatient orders--but at this point Rick was simply too exhausted to be frightened.

Nearby, Rick's phantoms slowly backed away; whether in respect of Zel's personal space or in fear of him was up to question.

"...If only," he murmured, mostly to himself. The hand holding his glasses unhooked itself from his hair and made idle gestures by his head. "...I...I-I w-wish...I-I w-w-were a-able...t-to w-worry a--about...everyone."

...Not just the half-dozen or so individuals that he'd distressed so badly that he couldn't focus on anyone else. It's a vague statement and Rick knows it, but collecting his thoughts is difficult enough as it is.

[nobarnacles]

"Why? That seems like you're causing yourself a lot of trouble for no reason."

He doesn't mean it as a rhetorical, self-help type question; it's an actual legitimate curiosity, coming from someone who made the conscious decision quite some time ago that everyone else could deal with their problems just so he can work on his own.

Behind him, his shadows whisper some vague things about how he abandoned them for his own selfish goals. He shakes off the thought, still focused on Rick with an expression of unfiltered pity.

Dormitory Room 1-16

[fragileprophet]

When Ion woke up, it was no surprise to see his roommate still asleep--or at least, it had becomes something unsurprising. Rick hadn't left his bed (or had hardly left it, as far as he knew) for days now. And...well, it was concerning. Especially seeing how much he was shaking. Ion couldn't just leave it as it was. It couldn't have been Infiltration--that had been over a week ago, now. And...come to think of it, Rick had been strangely absent in that past week, hadn't he? Ion had been so preoccupied with himself that he had hardly noticed until now. He felt a bit ashamed.

So something else must have happened. Not that that would have been unsurprising, considering where they were. His face the perfect picture of worry, Ion slides from his bed. This seems too important to address later, when he's woken up a bit more.

"Rick...?"

He takes a few hesitant, careful steps toward his roommate's bed, hugging himself in order to keep from reaching out and touching him. It seemed like a bad idea, given the blonde man's state.

"What's happened?" The tone of his voice is gentle. Ion knows better than to ask if Rick is feeling alright when it's so obvious he isn't.

[bashfulshifter]

Rick's arms slowly drew back from his face so he could peek over his hands. His eyes were red and puffy with tears, and for the moment all he could do was stare and shudder.

Then he curled back up and, with a series of deep, halting breaths, tried quickly to regain his composure. Something about revealing his personal ills to someone half his age didn't sit comfortably in Rick's mind--Ion shouldn't be troubled with his problems.

Nevertheless, it takes a considerable amount of effort to even speak, let alone calm himself to a point of being presentable again. Still curled up, Rick barely managed to mumble:

"...S-Sorry...f-for...w-w-waking you..."

[fragileprophet]

"You didn't," Ion assures gently. And it was true. He'd always been a bit of a light sleeper, anyway. Always tossing and turning and unable to get quite comfortable enough to sleep soundly. He was used to it--brushed it off as just another part of his constitution that was determined to keep him as exhausted as possible even when he was resting. Besides, even if Rick had woken him, Ion could have hardly been upset.

His concern only rises as he watches his roommate, and after a quiet debate chooses to seat himself at the edge of Rick's bed. Ion folds his hands in his lap. "Is there anything I can do?" He pauses, looks apologetic. "You probably don't want to talk about it...I'm sorry for bringing it up. But maybe it'll help, at least a little."

Morgue

[forhislegacy]

[This is a face Rick has probably seen in passing before - Anise was close friends with one of his roommates, after all, and she did have a way of inviting herself in and making a general nuisance of herself. Today is no different. She's taking the stairs to get around, and when she sees him in the morgue, she stops.

She watches him for a few moments before calling out to him.]

Hey! Do you need any help in there?

[bashfulshifter]

Eh?

[Rick stops scrubbing and looks upward, pulled abruptly from his cleaning-induced trance, and he catches the curious eyes of Anise--but only for a second before his own reflexively dart to stare at a point just past her face. Mildly familiar or otherwise, it takes a few seconds for Rick to get up the nerve to answer, stammering all the while.]

...A-Ah...th-thanks, but...I--I think I...I'm, um... [The rest of that sentence disappears into his usual background tone of stuttering.]

[forhislegacy]

Youuuu're what?

[Anise has made up his mind for him, apparently. She hops up onto the railing and then down onto the morgue floor before marching right up to him. She is nothing if not tenacious.

A single shadow - formerly following her - lingers on the stairs as if uncertain whether or not it would be able to make the jump the same way. It ends up taking the stairs the rest of the way instead, so they have some time to themselves before it actually catches up.]

Looks like a big job.