[log] Look Away, Look Away [closed]

[rubikscomplex]

Characters: Gregory House, Stephen Strange, Claire Temple, Ecks, Rhys, Angel
Location: Building 29
Date: Night 202
Summary: Traumatized by their exciting adventure in the snow, a bunch of people turn up at a shed where House made the mistake of staying put.
Warnings: Severe injury (face mutilation), blood, burns, frostbite, narcotics withdrawal, suicidal ideations, general discussion of psychological trauma

[A small shed outside the school, going inside reveals sports equipment is being stored in here. There are hurdles, various sports balls, giant mats, and the like. There's nothing that could be used as a weapon, though, unless you're going to try to hurl a basketball at someone's head. This is the only place on the campus it's possible to stay in overnight--if you try to stay anywhere else, you'll be made to leave at 7PM. The following is written on the wall in blue ink: "This is Building 46 on the composite map. Contact @CaptSteveRogers for details." Underneath is a fairly accurate map showing the shed in relation to the school. The school is labeled "School. Food available in cafeteria; DO NOT STAY HERE OVERNIGHT." The shed is labeled "Shed". Behind the shed is a small army of snowmen armed with sports equipment. There's a drawing spraypainted on the inside of the shed. It has been labeled "GEROMY". The skin color has been left blank.]

Comments

Sleepless

[thewarningafter]

[At some point in the night Stephen's meditation finally leads into the actual sleep he desperately needs. It's not entirely deliberate; for a variety of reasons he'd frankly rather stay awake, but he'd needed to clear his mind and there's only so much a body can take before it demands rest.

The sounds that come from his spot by the wall are soft: little shifts in position, an incoherent mumble. When he wakes it's not with a shout but with a gasp, fingers grasping clumsily at the fabric of his cloak, his breathing more rapid than it should be as his waking brain struggles to ground itself in the present. Stephen lets out a groan as current circumstances come back to him, not much better than the dream he just left. Only then does he realize that someone else is awake and goes abruptly still again.]

[nursetemple]

[Claire catches it - catches everything, the usual twitching of someone having a nightmare, and waking up suddenly. Their eyes meet after he wakes up, and she doesn't move for a long time, before getting up as quietly as she can, and sitting by his side, shoulder to shoulder.]

What do you dream about?

[She asks in a whisper, leaving the question vague enough that he doesn't have to talk about the nightmare he just woke from if he doesn't want to.]

[thewarningafter]

[Stephen doesn't hold her gaze after that initial moment of eye contact, embarrassed and frustrated that he hasn't been able to keep this to himself. He doesn't shift away when she comes over, but he definitely does not want to talk about the dream. It's already fading aside from a few sharp images, memories of the Dark Dimension jumbled together with memories of things seen in the last few days. He keeps his own voice a whisper, not wanting to wake the others.]

What does anyone here dream about?

[nursetemple]

I don't know. [She's still talking just as softly, looking down at her hands.]

Personally, it's generally death. My loved ones dying. People I care for ending up here, and not making it. Or finding myself facing an anomaly that looks like someone I know.

[thewarningafter]

Death. Yeah.

[He'd been dreaming about death before anything had even happened to him here. Before Dormammu it had been the car wreck; now it's all conflating in his dreams with the anomalies and with House's death in the morgue. His sleeping mind has no shortage of imagery from which to choose.]

That why you aren't sleeping?

[nursetemple]

I don't know. Yes. Maybe. Every time I close my eyes I see us, out there in the snow.

[She stops herself, clenching her jaw. It's hard to admit it's fear, plain and simple.]

This place, it's just. Playing with my nerves.

[thewarningafter]

I hear it'll do that.

[He offers her a wan smile, reaches out a hand to give one of hers a brief squeeze. Stephen draws in an unsteady breath and lets it back out again.]

I dream about dying, mostly.

[nursetemple]

[She squeezes back, her smile just as feeble as his. It feels like so much work to try and muster energy to do any more than that.]

Are you scared of it?

[thewarningafter]

No. The dying itself doesn't scare me.

[Death had always meant a momentary reprieve from the pain.]

[nursetemple]

Then what about it does?

[She looks down at his hand in hers, the scars there. Constant pain, probably.]

[thewarningafter]

[Being trapped in it. Coming back just to die again for eternity. Knowing he'd willingly do it to himself again. And, yes....]

The pain. Losing control, feeling my body shut down.

[That's something you feel in dreams, right?]

[nursetemple]

Oh.

[Yeah, that's something she can imagine being terrified of, too. She leans her head back against the wall.]

Sometimes I see my friends and family, here. In my dreams they have to go through this place, and it's worse than dreaming of death.

[thewarningafter]

Oh.

[That does sound terrible. Stephen doesn't dream about other people, though, for the most part, and it takes until this moment for him to notice that that might be strange.]

You get any sleep yet tonight?

[nursetemple]

Not really. I'm not tired.

[It's not true. She's exhausted. But then again, she's always exhausted. Helplessly, mindlessly, she leans closer to Stephen, resting her head against his shoulder.]

I know I can't spend my nights wide awake, but I wish I didn't need sleep. It feels dangerous, to sleep here, and too many people need looking after.

[thewarningafter]

[He lets it happen, though it takes a moment for him to relax into it. This is...nice.]

More dangerous not to. We can't afford sleep deprivation.

[Stephen Strange: big fat hypocrite.]

[nursetemple]

[She rubs the heel of her hand against her eyes, sighing.]

I know. Half of what we're seeing and experiencing here already feels so much like hallucinations, we can't add to it.

[She lets her eyes close, more comfortable now than she's been in a while. Which isn't saying much, but is better than the extreme tension she's been carrying between her shoulders for days.]

What do you think about to remind yourself that it's not all bad? Loved ones? Work?

[thewarningafter]

[He lets out a huff of bitter laughter, because it is all bad, there's no reminding himself different. But he gives it a moment's thought.]

I have a goal. We have a goal. This isn't going to go on forever.

[nursetemple]

No, it isn't. [Whether they live or die, she's sure it's not a permanent situation.]

But I still end up thinking a lot about home, just to keep going. I would have given up already if I didn't.

[thewarningafter]

We'll get home. You'll get home again.

[nursetemple]

[She swallows hard at that, at the conviction in his words, and she nods, squeezing his hand again. She'd kiss his cheek, in thanks, but it requires too much movement, when she's actually, finally feeling sleepy.]

So will you. [She ends the sentence with a yawn.]

[thewarningafter]

[Stephen rests his head against hers. He's not ready to go back to sleep yet, but she sounds like she might be.]

Get some rest.

[nursetemple]

Hm. You too. [She closes her eyes.

Hopefully, they'll keep each other from nightmares.]

[thewarningafter]

[Stephen fully intends to sit up through the night, but at some point he'll drift off again. If he has any more nightmares this night, they're at least mild enough not to wake him.]