A Multifandom Asylum RPG

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Day 57: Waiting Room / Lobby 1
[shou] this ain't right
oneman_onekill wrote in damned
Somehow, he'd managed to eat all of his food, and grudgingly, Niikura had to admit that he felt a lot better after brunch. That pink stuff tasted like crap, but it did its job, which was to keep him alive. Still...what did he have to do around here to get some food, short of raiding the kitchen at night? Not that he couldn't do that, it was just that he liked to reserve his evenings for more productive things...

...food was productive.

Niikura growled under his breath and shook his head. He really needed something to take his mind off things right now before he started daydreaming about burgers or something. Maybe a nap or...a movie sounded nice. He'd seen the suggestion box at the board, but hadn't really been in the right state of mind to answer it, too caught up with some other conversations. But really, the more he thought about it, the better it sounded. Alright then, off to the Sun Room--

--or not. The soldier pushed him straight through toward one of the lobbies, calmly explaining that today, he had a visitor. The news was so stunning that Niikura couldn't find it in himself to complain until he was already sitting down in one of the chairs by himself - at which point, it was kind of useless to complain.

A visitor, huh? Had Hazama or Takasugi or someone figured out where he was? He wouldn't put it past them, although he would've liked it more if they'd managed to swoop down for the rescue a little earlier - like, say, a whole week earlier. Other than that, he couldn't think of anyone who'd actually take out the effort to visit him. Some cop? A classmate? This was almost getting nerve-wracking. Niikura's foot tapped as he stared anxiously at the door. Who was it going to be...?

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The soldier wouldn't elaborate. Claire trailed after the man in a bewildered gait, a rabbit-like thumping in her chest. What was this about? What visitors? Who would be here to visit her?

Certainly no one she knew. All the Americans she had met were either dead or trapped on the island again.

It could be Michael, she supposed. Michael and Walt. They had made it off the island too. Yet you'll have to pardon her for saying so, but they could just hop back in their car and turn right around again. Claire wanted nothing to do with either of them. Walt might not have done anything, true, but she had nothing to say to him. Nothing to do with either of them at all. Aside from that, she was stumped. She had no family, no -

...That wasn't true. Not entirely.

The suddenness of it all, the presence of a solid, real possibility had turned the soles of her shoes to glue. The soldier grew to the size of her hand ahead of him, unawares that his charge had halted. The mistake didn't go unnoticed for long, though, and Claire was virtually dragged the rest of the way to a room she had never set foot in before. Shaking, she wallowed over to a seat, sitting down stiffly and gripping the arms of the chair with knuckles nearly as white as her face.

The only person she knew in America right here, right now, was her son Aaron. If whoever was taking care of him now heard about her - heard that she was trapped here in this awful place, would they bring him to her?

The thumping turned to pounding, as if someone had taken a mallet to an anvil and took to it with the ticking pace of a clock. Claire couldn't think at all.

Edited at 2011-07-01 02:53 am (UTC)

The entry room was a lot more crowded than he figured it'd be. He should have realized it'd go this way. People could only visit once a week. So of course it'd be packed to the sodding gills in here. So Chace was being especially careful about keeping the child on his lap entertained. Last thing anyone wanted was a cranky and bored three-year-old throwing a tantrum. Thankfully, Adam was always pretty well behaved as long as he was kept occupied. And right then he was fully focused on the open National Geographic magazine, pointing each animal out for his Dad who pretended to be confused by each picture.

They went along like this until one of the nurses finally approached to say Charlotte was ready. And Chace... took in a slow breath before excitedly telling Adam it was finally time to see Mommy. Luckily, for Adam's sake, he could hide his slight nervousness. Chace had no idea how much or how little Charlotte may have progressed. Or if she was still angry with him. But he was determined to put that aside and make this a happy visit. So he took the boy's hand and together, they followed the nurse toward the next room.

It wasn't hard to spot her. Even if her hair was still more of a ragged mess than he'd have liked, she still stood out among everyone else in the room. Stood out like the sun. And God... as much as he knew he had missed her, it didn't hit him hard until that very moment when he saw her. Charlotte... She looked good. Cleaner. Calmer. Sitting still in a chair, at least. It was a sign of improvement. But she didn't look particularly happy. They told her they were visiting, right? Maybe she was still mad, after all.

Adam, on the other hand, didn't have any of these problems flying through his head. Oblivious to all else, the boy's face lit up in recognition once he spotted Charlotte and pulled away from Chace's grasp instantly, stomp-running the short distance between both parents with hands stretched out toward her. "Mommy!"

Her heart stopped altogether when she heard that voice. Claire whipped around in her seat like an animal on edge, the impression only deepening when her eyes went owl wide. There was the most beautiful little boy she had ever seen running towards her. Chubby cheeks and a pert nose, shock-blue eyes and a thin tuft of pale blond hair. His hands were outstretched, each tiny digit perfect and round, straining for her. A smile wider than any she'd seen.

He'd called her Mommy.

Claire choked, as if a hand had taken hold of her throat and squeezed out a sob. She nearly fell as she scrambled from the chair, shaking like mad and gasping through an open grin. Tears shot down her cheeks unnoticed as the two met. Claire stumbled to her knees and half-slid the rest of the way as she took hold of him. Touch told at once that this was no imposter. No illusion. Claire gathered the little boy to her chest and felt his warmth sprout life inside her once more. She could feel her heartbeat again.

This was Aaron. That was his little nose, and he had her eyes and hair - oh, he looked like her mother, she could see it in the shape of his face and the way he smiled. His grandmother. Claire choked for the second time and pulled him just loose enough that she could look him in the eye. Her face was a mess now, splotchy red, trembling lips and eyes dripping with tears. She kissed him on the forehead. "My baby..." She kissed him twice again, stroking his cheek and smoothing his hair and marveling at how something so perfect could exist in a place like this. "Oh my god, Aaron. Mommy missed you. Mommy missed you so much, she can't-"

Her throat swelled shut, and she could speak no more. The only sounds she made as she held him close again were wracking, breathless gasps and whimpers. Happiness would snap her in two right now, she felt it so tensely in her bones. Her gut was nothing but knots now.

She had to blink her eyes clear to look up and see without blurs marring the setting, searching out who had brought her son back to her. Who had saved her. Vision came back to her, and there was a man not three metres away.

Just as suddenly as Aaron's touch brought the all the sun's warmth to her body, it was snuffed out with an icy wind.

She lost the ability to speak for real now. Crying wasn't the cause anymore. Words were rushing to the tip of her tongue and begging for release, but every one of them rebounded off an impenetrable wall. The closest she came was a drop of the jaw; wordless, silent, and yet speaking volumes.

Charlie Pace was standing there.

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