bakerstreet | Asylum Meme

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[warning] trigger warning

Asylum Meme

Meme, Interrupted

"People ask, How did you get in there? What they really want to know is if they are likely to end up in there as well. I can't answer the real question. All I can tell them is, It's easy."

Well, you've really done it now. You're in a mental institution. Maybe it's a modern facility with a therapy garden, compassionate staff members, and a warm environment meant to help nurse people back to health, or maybe it's a glorified dungeon where the government shoves people they don't want to deal with and patients are abused by staff. Regardless of what it is, you're there, and it doesn't look like they're planning on letting you out any time soon.

Maybe you're actually not supposed to be there and you're trying to arrange for your release. Maybe you actually are meant to be there and you're struggling with your illness. Maybe you're not a patient at all and you're just there to visit or earn your paycheck. It's up to you.

Rules:

1. Post with your character's name, canon, and your preferences on the subject bar, and set up the situation.
2. Tag other people. Are you a visitor? A staff member? A fellow patient? A hallucination? It's your choice.
3. Have fun!

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I felt warmth.

[It's been so long since he's felt warm that he almost didn't remember the word for it, almost couldn't join sensation to definition to put that feeling of not cold to that long-ago sensation of warm. He stares at their joined hands in shock and amazement, his lips twitching into a smile.]

Ginny, I felt warm!

[And in an instant, she feels so much better. Something golden spreads through her, bright and happy, and maybe she can sustain the spark long enough for something else. Maybe if she focuses, she can blow on that ember and have it flickering back to a flame she can only vaguely remember. Maybe things don't have to be so terrible.

Ginny has always acted on instinct. Her stubbornness and drive are a part of her just as much as her hair or her magic. (Magic, it's real, she's always known it; Muggles can't erase the life she's lived before.) So before she thinks more on it, she leans in to brush her lips to his, light and cautious, and they're cool on hers but she pushes at the heat flickering under her skin and maybe... Maybe.]

[He doesn't even know how to react at first, when she leans forward and kisses him. But then - it's there again, just for a blink, a breath (neither of which he does anymore but they're still useful measures of time) - a slight pressure, the tiniest moment of heat - the veil ripples and settles back into place, and there's nothing again.

He leans back, touches his own lips in surprise.]

Something happened.

It's real.

[Her voice is a faint, thrilled whisper, and she's watching him with her heart in her throat and for a moment, she sounds like she doesn't know whether to laugh or cry.]

You and magic and everything. It has to be. You said it yourself, something happened.

I felt it. I felt you.

[He touches his own lips again, though there isn't much to feel, too shocked to do much of anything else.]

I haven't felt in ... years. It's been so long.

Doesn't have to be.

[She wants to wrap her arms around him and have him feel that, but she can't manage that yet, she knows it. All she is capable of is little flickers of what sings in her blood, muted by the medication, but that's enough for now. It's worth the look on his face, the smile, the surprise. She teases softly,]

You've got to come back more often now. You've made things so much better here, d'you know that? You deserve the same.

Are you kidding?

[He looks up at her, silvery eyes bright, genuinely alight for the first time in who knows how long.]

You're never getting rid of me now.

[She smiles at him.]

I knew it would take a kiss for you to stay.

I'm not a hard bloke to make happy, especially where there's a pretty girl involved.

Don't go again.

[It's soft, gentle, imploring. She's still smiling but there's something else too, and her hand tightens instinctively like she can hold him here but her fingers pass through him and the illusion is broken.]

Please. It's so much worse when you aren't here. He's so much worse.

I can't make any promises, Ginny.

[Sometimes the grey comes without warning, swallowing him whole, and he doesn't know when or why he resurfaces next.]

But I won't leave you on purpose.

[She nods at that, but the joy in her expression is already shattering at the edges, and she has to glance away and bite down on her lip to keep from crying. She hates this, how she's become such a shell when she used to be nothing but fire, and there are moments when she's That Weasley Girl and there are moments when she can't manage it.

He's lying, of course. Everyone leaves you, Ginevra dear, everyone except your Tom. Leave them first. We shall try again; and this time, don't forget to make your goodbyes on the walls.

Ginny draws in a sharp breath and leans back against the wall, drawing her knees up to her chest but keeping her hand out and in Cedric's as best she can.]

I'd go with you. You know that.

You can't.

[He's certain of that. He has a lot of questions about this whole 'being dead' thing, but one of the absolute, solid certainties that he's managed to puzzle out on his own is that the living can't come with him. He lines his hand up with hers as best he can, hopes the cold isn't too uncomfortable for her.]

I wouldn't want you to. It's awful. There's nothing. It's just ... nothing. No light, no shadow, no sound - you just ... stop. I don't want that for you, Ginny.

[For a heartbeat, she looks confused at his answer, because she hadn't been speaking to him. Or had she? Wouldn't she rather be with Cedric than Tom? But he'd just said... which he, though? Bollocks. Ginny closes her eyes briefly and focuses on Cedric's hand in hers and tries to push the warm glow of her magic into it again, but it's not as easy now as seconds before. One step at a time, then.

She listens to his words and they sadden her; that isn't what he deserves. None of that. She opens her eyes to look at him and say as much.]

I don't want that for you either, though. Listen to yourself, you just said it; it's awful. I—know I can't go with you. Doesn't mean I want you to be alone.

Edited 2012-09-03 05:56 (UTC)

That's why I said I won't go back on purpose.

[There's no warmth this time, even though he can see her focusing her magic. He just keeps his hand by hers, so they can still pretend, even if it's clear her hand has gone through his by now.]

I don't want you to be alone, either.

[She can hold hands in the dark with a ghost. It's better than being controlled by the other one, right?]

No. The Muggles think I'm mental. Sometimes I think I'd believe them if it weren't for you.

If you're mental, then I am too.

[His smile is brief, the sunlight slanting in through the window lighting it for a moment.]

And I'm pretty sure I'm not.

[She looks at him, brows knitting in genuine curiosity.]

What makes you say that?

Because I'm dead. You can't go mad after you're dead. Too much change.

[He almost looks rueful.]

You don't change when you're dead.

You don't?

[She meets his gaze and smiles a little, fingers fluttering against his hand. He's never really spoken about being dead to her, but she can't bring herself to ask more questions on it right now. Not when she'd balanced on the edge of both worlds again in the name of Tom's games.]

Wish I'd known you before. You're brilliant.

[He shrugs, modestly.]

I'm okay. Not if you go by my dad, though. He thinks I'm the greatest thing since they invented magic. It's kind of embarrassing.

Your dad loves you.

[And probably visits your grave more than anyone else visits her. At least, that's what it feels like to her. That makes her heart ache a little and maybe the magic flickers again with the emotion, just for an instant. Maybe because she'd like to say that she might love him too. But she doesn't know. She can't trust everything she thinks.]

What do you remember about magic?

I remember the common room.

[That's the strongest memory from when he was alive, because that was a place where he was so consistently happy. The Hufflepuff common room was always a safe, happy place, even after they'd lost a Quidditch match or OWLs were right around the corner or you'd just had a bad day. Full of light, full of life, safe.]

I remember going in there, just by the kitchens, and feeling like I was going into another world.

[Common room. If she closes her eyes, she can see her own, all scarlet and deep, warm gold; the view from a tower and out over the grounds. And Cedric says kitchens and a smile flits across her lips.]

I used to nick food from the kitchens. Bet you could get in there whenever you liked.

It's not really nicking if they just give it to you. 'Oh please take this ham! Please take more tarts! Can you take this turkey leg too?'

[He smiles, more genuine now, looking up at the ceiling as though he could see it.]

I'm surprised I didn't weigh seven hundred pounds.

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