Date: 2023-12-27 08:21 pm (UTC)
goodweather: (39)
From: [personal profile] goodweather
A hospital gown. They put him in a padded cell in the hospital. Of course they did. For a few moments, the loudest thing in the room is the blood thundering through the channels in his skull and the electricity pulsing in his nerves.

Then it's 2--

and then it's Darcy--

and then it's his mind, with the thought of his claws buried in Number 2's throat.

He jolts like a dog hitting the end of its chain, feathers raising in immediate alarm and fury and hate, what are they doing to her is the first thought that comes to him before Peter's warnings ring above all the rest--the cruelty, the mind games, the impossible trickery--and it occurs to him that this may just as well be Darcy as it isn't. It could be her, spirited off like he did to Peter, and it could be fabricated. That would probably be easier and he wouldn't ever know. And isn't that the funniest fucking joke? He's so easy to target. Of course they're using Darcy. You give someone a child, make them a parent, and you know exactly what to do to ruin both of their lives. It's just like that woman said to him once: we were gonna have a kid. I was going to break my own heart on purpose. So they put him alone in a padded cell and make him listen to her scream, and wonder if he's willing to risk the possibility that it isn't her.

It's not any worse than the nightmares he has sometimes.

"For what?!" he hollers to the ceiling. "For fucking what? What's the point of this? What the hell do you want?"
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