Author's Note: This was designed as a prequel to a story involving Anthony going to the asylum. It takes place in the revivalverse and involves revival characters, but differs slightly. My take on the revival is that Toby is the only person who "is" their character and everyone else has been mentally cast by him. Anthony is directly involved in the action here, which is why I'd consider this a revival-original hybrid. I may or may not write the story meant to follow this.
Calm
She hated him.
Why did he have to cling to her like a child? He was far too old for that. She dreaded visiting him because of it. She dreaded opening the door to that particular chamber of the asylum because she knew that sitting right behind it was him. He would always be the one by the door. Not even the violent drunk could steal that coveted spot from the troubled young man. The moment she would enter the room, he would attach himself to her, and she would have to pry him off before leaving. She hated it.
Why did he have to need her? It was horrible to be needed. It was horrible to be coveted and sought out and desired by someone simply out of need. He made her feel so low that sometimes she considered leaving the asylum altogether. It wasn't allowed, of course. They (meaning the staff) were all made to stay there even when not on duty. It was said to be because of the breakout a few years ago. She knew different. They didn't want it to get out what went on in that place. Sometimes the supposed cure was worse than the disease.
Escape. She wanted to escape the asylum and start over again. To be a woman of her age and unmarried, without any true companion, was to be miserable. She couldn't deny her lonliness. All chances of ever being happy, of ever being loved, were doomed when she took this job. Even in her childhood she had never had a sweetheart. Never had someone she needed. Never had someone she loved.
She hated him because he needed her. She hated him because he might love her, and she had a feeling that he did. But most of all, she hated him because he couldn't love her like she wanted him to. He couldn't sweep her off her feet. He couldn't romance her. He could scarcely manage to walk two steps without clutching at her arm. His mental state dictated his age: he was a child. And he was all she had
He saw in him his salvation.
Here he was, the reckless youth, the handsome sailor of his seemingly illogical story. Here was the hero- but then again, there weren't any heroes in his story. Here was his proof. Here in the flesh was a man whom, according to popular belief, was the creation of a young urchin with the mind of a young boy.
Naturally he sought to befriend him. He had always admired the man. He spoke of him with great respect when he told the story to the doctors who were supposed to help him. They never did promise to help him, though, only to get him the help he needed. Sometimes he thought he'd be swept away in an unending sea of doctors, each testing on him their previously untested treatments.
He really did have a lot of respect for the reckless man. Though the sailor wasn't the best at protecting what he loved, the sailor had done a better job than he had, and for that he idolized him. After a time, he did come to dislike him, just a little. He noticed that his doctor, or at least the doctor who came to him the most- though never willingly- was visiting the sailor, and more frequently. Here was the sailor, taking away the only companion Toby had when he had one of his own waiting for his return. Toby assumed that Johanna was waiting, but he could never be sure.
If the sailor had his Johanna, then why did he need Toby's doctor? If anyone needed her, it was Toby. He was sure of that. He was sure, too, that Anthony thought only of his young lady. But not so sure that he didn't keep an eye on him.
He loved her. He missed her. He thought only of the day when he could see her again. But he knew that it was better for her if he were here. Better for Johanna to be left alone than for her to marry a madman.
How could he have been so blind? Insanity. That was the only logical explanation. For him not to see what his dear Johanna had seen so clearly was a sign of madness or blindness, and Anthony was not blind. So off to the madhouse it was. At least, thought Anthony, he had not been carried away. At least he come to the asylum of his own free will.
The asylum smelled and sounded like a zoo. Even within its walls, though, there was cruelty and kindness, justice and injustice. Anthony had found kindness in the form of Tobias. The young man had recognized him instantly, and implored his help in proving his supposed illusion a reality. Anthony had rushed to the youth's defense, knowing all too well that he spoke the truth.
Anthony had also found another friend, a woman who worked at the asylum as a doctor. He had spoken with her frequently, and liked her quite a lot, though she had tried to send him back to Johanna numerous times. Anthony was not so easily displaced. He was a headstrong young man, and he knew he was insane. And he was not going to leave.
They were stuck here.
They were all unable to leave. Whether it was a need, or a want, or a requirement, they all had to remain at the asylum. They had so much in common, yet they were still too different to fully understand each other presently. They were lonely, but they were decidedly not alone. Whether or not this was for the better was still questionable.