Author: Kaisre
Rating: T
Summary: Toris abandons an easy life in Kaunas to work at an asylum plagued by desertion and rumors. He should've known his decisions would eventually lead him to a rather secretive history following a certain Russian.

Characters: Lithuania // Toris, Russia // Ivan, Prussia // Gilbert


- Lamentia -

- II -



It seemed the facility's pharmacist wasn't expecting a request of drugs for Ivan. He said they had nothing in storage under that name but Toris politely insisted that Ivan was to take the medication during that time—he even showed the man his assignment sheet. Afterwards, the pharmacist rushed to get the medicine for him, finally.

Toris was already running late when he came back, carrying a foam tray carrying a small meal. Apparently, finding his way through an unfamiliar building, where the drug wings and cafeteria were anything but close to each other, wasn't enough of an obstacle for him on his first day.

Ivan was still in the same position when he arrived. The other lifted his head and looked at the food indifferently, showing no signs of hunger.

"I do not want them."

"What?" Toris asked incredulously, taking big gulps of air to regain his breath. "You haven't eaten since noon, have you? I'm sorry I'm late, Ivan, but it's almost seven."

Ivan turned his head, voice cold and reproachful. "Nyet. It is not necessary." He looked back at the offending tray in Toris's hands. "Where is the medicine? Why have they not come yet?"

Toris frowned, the red and white pills clearly visible on their own little tray. "I don't know who 'they' are, but I have your medicine." Leaving one hand to hold the tray, he pinched up the glossy pellets, rolling them in his palm as he offered them to Ivan. "I have water t—is there something wrong?"

White lashes shadowed his eyes when he narrowed them, making no move to accept the pills. "This is not… this is not normal." He looked suspiciously up at him. "What are you doing, Toris? What do you want?"

Toris felt like he was being accused of something when he stood there dumbly. "I'm giving it to you." He insisted, motioning with his hand, but Ivan only shook his head.

"That is not what I mean…" He trailed off slowly, his eyes defocusing and refocusing. His hands twitched as he sat there, staring off blankly. "You… really are late. You would want to leave now," he murmured, sounding covert. He collapsed against his bed, closing his eyes as if he weren't concerned about the food or pills anymore.

Toris frowned, clutching the medicine in his hand. "Not until you take the medicine," he said firmly, adding, "please." He sat down, the mattress sinking an inch to support his weight.

Ivan grunted, digging his fingers into his flattened pillow. "No. I will take them tomorrow."

Toris only sighed. "You need to take them now. It'll be a long time till morning. Please, these will help you, Ivan."

Clenching his eyes tighter, Ivan shook his head. "Go away. Did they not tell you?"

He didn't answer at first, feeling lost. It didn't take a whole day to realize how enigmatic this man was to him with all his sayings—full of meanings that would escape him. "I don't know, but it doesn't matter… I'll leave if you take the medicine."

With that, Ivan reopened his eyes, peering up at him. "It is not what I mean…You are… difficult?" He suddenly hissed, hands moving to dig into his own hair now. "Zaknis… No, Toris, you are different." He forced himself up with great effort, his eyes seeming to constantly be darting to his side. "Let me be. I will take it tomorrow."

Toris opened his hand to stare down at the two pills, deciding what to do with them. Ivan needed to take them now—that was for sure. The facility's pharmacist told him the drugs were used to subdue hallucinations and battle depression. The prescribed medicine was dangerously concentrated—dangerous to anyone else besides Ivan if they were to ingest the medicine completely.

Brows furrowed, he started to lift the pills closer to his face to read their inscriptions, but pale fingers quickly reached out and kept his hand from getting only closer.

Toris's looked up to see Ivan glaring at him, his pupils contracted in subdued panic. He looked so afraid all of a sudden.

"Give me it."

He didn't wait for the brunette to hand him the medicine. Swiping the pills from his open hand, he shoved them into his mouth and swallowed thickly. A second after, his chest heaved greatly and he was reduced into a sharp coughing fit.

"Ivan!" Toris moved quickly to support him, frightened that he was choking but the coughs soon subsided.

"…'is normal…" He rasped, pushing his body away from him. "Leave. It is not pretty…" Even when he said so, he still retained his grip on Toris's wrist. His free hand flew to his own neck as he let out a choked gasp of pain, the skin over his jugular rippling ominously.

"Ivan— A-ah!" The hand clinging to his wrist tightened considerably, threatening to snap the slender bone.

Wheezing, Ivan clutched his chest until his breath returned to him. His hand loosened and fell, thudding dully against the sheets. Toris reached for the glass of water again, pressing it to Ivan's lips, who let out a word of protest, turning his face away.

"No… I-I do not want it to be stronger…"

Toris shook his head. "Your mouth is dry. You'll be dehydrated if you don't drink."

With more gentle urging from the offering man, Ivan finally gave in and took a reluctant sip. When the water dripped down his newly-parched throat, he groaned and took the whole cup from Toris, emptying it.

"Spasiba…" He murmured, wiping his mouth. He carelessly dropped the cup on the tray of untouched food.

Toris kept his eyes on him, watching to see if the other would have any more problems. Noticing his concern, Ivan explained, "That is what the medicine does. Normally… it is not given to me in that form." He stared at the red hand-mark appearing on Toris's arm. "You are hurt, yes? Do not tell—they will take me away again."

Toris rubbed the afflicted spot, relieving it just a tiny bit. "The medicine… does it taste bad?"

The corner of Ivan's mouth twitched. "Mozhit byit. So you really do not know?" He rubbed his neck again even when the minor spasms had vanished. "It is strong—too strong. It burns my throat and I will experience its effects again later, in sleep."

The Lithuanian stood up slowly, his time to leave coming close. "I see… So that's why you don't like it."

"Nyet." He couldn't hold it back and that smile crossed his mouth again. "You are wrong, Toris." He shifted in the bed, turning his body and wrapping the sheets over his arms in a similar way like earlier. "It is getting late; nights are never pleasant. Leave the food here, Toris, or the others will see it."

Assuming he would eat it before bed, Toris nodded and stepped back. "I'll pick it up in the morning. I'll see you tomorrow, Ivan."

"Oh?" The other was staring out the window. "Marcel is not coming then? He does not come as often anymore—I have no favor for him. It will be good if you replace him." He faced him now, the hazy curve still on his face. "…Tomorrow then. Sleep well, Toris."

-x-X-x-

The spell broke when the young man left the room, leaving him in silence. His vision ran red and Ivan looked down to see his right arm convulsing against his will. Pills were slower than needles, but the effects were always the same.

The clouds outside cleared, bathing the prisoner in a comfortless light.

He let his eyes rest on the spoiling food. "It is not as you say, Toris—we are not the same."

-x-X-x-

Served sixteen months as part of a peace-keeping division deployed to the middle-east.

Suspected in the death of a fellow soldier. Found not guilty.

Showed signs of schizophrenia before deployment and post-traumatic stress disorder afterward. Diagnosed as severe cases.

Convicted for murder.

"Murder." The word was bitter on his tongue. The cab he was riding in slowed to a stop outside a lonely-looking drug store. Toris handed the driver the proper amount of money and got out of the vehicle.

He tucked the papers into his shoulder bag, entering the lit building. He had gone through the trouble of taking an hour-long drive to this particular store to see an old friend of his. Enemy, maybe, but Toris preferred to be on the former side.

He arrived at the drug counter and rung the bell that was found there. A stream of curses could be heard from inside one of the rooms.

"God damn it, I thought I already took care of every—oh, it's you."

The disgruntled man who had revealed himself was clad in a white coat and loose shirt. His platinum hair was a mess and the dark circles under his maroon eyes didn't make him look any better. Toris couldn't help but grin.

"Taking the late shift, Gilbert?"

The man named Gilbert jerked his head, grinding his teeth. "I can say the same for you. We got a lot of orders for the past seven days so my boss is making his technician, me, stay late and do all the distributing for all the idiots who can't bother to stop by during the day." He took a breath and grimaced. "Like you, for example. Anyways, how was the first day for our little psychologist?"

"Can I sit down?"

"Whatever, I have till midnight. I might as well get entertainment."

Toris pulled up a blocky-looking chair to sit on and propped his elbows on the counter, resting his chin on interlocking fingers. "Actually, I just needed to ask you something."

Gilbert did the same, propping his feet up. "Oh, really now?" He chewed his lip. "What would you want from me?"

"Well, I've been assigned a patient with severe disorders on my first day—but that's not what I'm asking about. We never properly studied the drugs used to treat these problems. He's diagnosed with schizophrenia and post-traumatic stress disorder. What are the side effects of the drugs?"

Gilbert thought deeply, sitting back. "That's a painful combination. Let's see… give me a moment." He closed his eyes, his lips moving to the shapes of unknown words. "Right… We don't get many people with PTSD—the few that are out there choose to go to the bigger hospitals and wards, it's their best bet anyway. Treatment is mostly through therapy—that's where you come in, obviously. Though, doctors do use the stronger anti-depressants, the ones that are extremely dangerous when overdosed. They use drugs like fluoxetine, the stuff you find in Prozac.

"Schizophrenia, on the other hand, is common in our customers. The levels are unusually high in this country--along with the broader issue of depression. There's a different range of drugs for people afflicted with schizophrenia though. Their effectiveness and side effects depend on the person himself. For minor cases, the effects aren't so bad. Otherwise, you get symptoms like muscle spasms, drowsiness or restlessness, dry mouth—stuff like that. But more seriously, long term use can lead to tardive dyskinesia... It causes involuntary movement in the body—pretty dangerous in the more serious cases. All these range from minor to severe, it just depends on the person."

Toris nodded. "I remember reading about it. Post-trauma was a big issue at the university—I spent the majority of my time studying it and Gordon sent me to work at a criminal asylum."

"And you've been assigned someone suffering from both." He frowned. "You're pretty loaded for your first day, Laurinaitis—and you don't even have any professional experience."

"He's not bad…" Toris defended slowly, "He's not vulgar or boisterous, things you would expect to find in a criminal."

"How about the suave and manipulative type?"

He shook his head. "No, not that either. I can tell a man's motives the moment I meet him, though… I admit this one is a mystery to me. His actions are unpredictable in the more subtle way—it's hard to decipher what he says. But, he doesn't spew out random madness either."

Gilbert yawned, rubbing his eyes grudgingly. "Jesus Christ, it's getting late. Where do you work now anyway?"

"Visailis. It's an hour drive south from here. A little longer away from Kaunas."

The maroon eyes were fixed on him in disbelief when the other's feet dropped to the floor. "Your professor sent you there? Visailis, the criminal ward on a hill, surrounded by hills? Where hundreds were sent to die?"

Toris sighed, exasperated. Of course this guy wouldn't take things seriously. "Okay, now you're just being ridiculous, Gilbert."

"I swear I'm not." He looked at the Lithuanian as if he were insane himself. "You seriously don't know?"

Toris scowled in annoyance. "Why does everyone keep asking me that?"

Gilbert ignored his comment as he went on. "The last deaths recorded happened a long time ago, during the Cold War. I guess I was exaggerating, but it was turned into an interrogation facility by the Soviets. Then it was remodeled into a psych ward, though I doubt the people the Russians locked up were actually those of the insane. The facility was found corrupt when the Soviets left, so it was closed down for another five years or so."

Toris was skeptical, but he did have to admit he was curious… "I don't really see why it matters. The country is old—there are a lot of surviving buildings out there that are being reused, even though they have a dark history. The asylum isn't that different."

He shrugged. "It's the rumors, I guess—no one wants to work there. I was offered a good position at Visailis, just like my old man, but I followed my advisor and took up the job of a pharmacy technician. Now I'm stuck here distributing medicine, fixing the machinery, and dealing with the customers' complaints." Sighing, he added, "Well it's better than working with the dangerously insane. If you ask for my opinion, they're the worst kind out there."

Toris frowned, probing deeper. "But you just said your father works at the facility, right?" He asked, but Gilbert shook his head.

"Nein. He quit the job and went elsewhere for something new. After all that trouble of moving to a new country…" he spat, the last part seemingly said to himself rather than Toris. "Whatever. I think your professor is crazy, sending his best pupil away from the famous medical facilities of Kaunas to tend to the unwanted."

"I chose to go at his recommendation."

Gilbert gave him a funny look. "You're an idiot, Laurinaitis," he remarked bluntly.

Toris shook his head, pushing his chair out and standing back up. "I have to go. Thank you for the help."

The other scraped his teeth together. "…You're welcome… Oh, I almost forgot." He leaned behind the counter and took out a special bin, selecting a paper bag from it. He handed the package to the brunette. "Here's your prescription. Receipt is attached. We'll be expecting you in around a month—that means don't overdose, and don't skip out on them either. Just sayin' so we don't get sued."

"I'm not addicted. It's disgusting." He reached out to take the package, but Gilbert pulled it out of his reach at the last minute.

A grin split his face. "I think it's my turn to ask you something."

Toris rubbed the sides of his head. He was already exhausted and he couldn't wait to get back to his quarters. He had work tomorrow too. "Alright, what is it?"

It seemed the German liked to take his sweet time with his question until, "Do you believe in ghosts, Laurinaitis?"

Toris paled, his skin turning white enough for Gilbert to notice. His grin widened in cruel amusement.

"… I'm not in the mood for anymore stories, Gilbert." He reached for the medicine again, but the assistant did not give it to him. Toris was starting to consider leaving the store without his prescription.

"That doesn't answer my question. So have I finally found our ace student's fear?" Gilbert taunted, quickly moving in to take advantage on him. He stared deep down into those forest-green orbs, looking for his answer.

And Toris stared back, unfaltering under his scarlet gaze. They stayed like this for several seconds until the younger man broke the tension.

"No. I never have—you assume too many things about me." He snatched the bag from Gilbert's hand and turned around, leaving the store without a backwards glance.

-x-X-x-

It was the truth—he didn't believe in ghosts. But it didn't mean he held no fear for the void. Death and dying… the end of the journey for every man proved too ominous for his liking. Now that he thought about it, his fear of the dead might've sub-consciously pushed him away from the medical branch.

And thanks to Gilbert, he was wasting time laying in bed, awake. He was crammed with way too many thoughts to sleep, even though his body was begging him to rest.

Don't think about it… It's only Gilbert—he just loves to say things to bother you. He wants to deprive you of sleep, it's all part of his plan. He's just bitter.

Toris felt the distinct ache in his stomach and he groaned quietly, rolling over to find a more comfortable position.

Another precious hour drifted by when Toris slowly moved his thoughts away to Ivan. He wondered what it was like, staying in the same room for days on end. He wondered if he slept at night. He wondered if the food was still there; if he ate it or not. Almost a day without food must be painful—Toris knew the inmates only received three meals a day.

Now that he was finally granted some peace, Toris worked on deciphering his nature. One day was far from enough to get to know him properly, but he may as well start.

Toris was working with the criminally insane—there was no doubt about it. Perhaps Gilbert was right in that one aspect. Maybe these people were the worst types to work with. A criminal who was sick in his head was unpredictable and dangerous.

Yet he was permitted to enter Ivan's ward without supervision. The entranceways in and out of the building were heavily secured—Toris was required to verify his identity when he left for the day, especially since he was a new intern. Very few of the windows opened, and every one of them were built with black bars on the exterior, marring an otherwise peaceful landscape of hills and trees. Yet despite all that security, all Toris needed was his identification and a card key to gain access to its respective personal ward.

The facility also seemed strangely vacant. He wasn't given a chance to see any of the other patients. Lanka only outlined the specific procedures for Ivan and no one else. She didn't even bother to assign him a veteran employee to work under. Alfred briefly mentioned the staff, and aside from the few who worked at the pharmacy and cafeteria wings, Toris came across no one.

Well, he should be grateful he wasn't put in charge of every inmate.

Unpredictable, dangerous, a twisted and distorted vision of the world—those were the three things these people shared. Though not as a family and not as men on equal standing with the rest of society.

They were unwanted. Maybe Gilbert was right about that too.

Toris read about the criminal mind—in books, articles, and anything his professor gave him. It was either an exceedingly dark or blissful place. For some, there would be a pathway back to reality. For others, there was not.

Ivan was unstable. For his first day, the Russian did not come off as violent to him. Perhaps a bit unnerving at times, but not disturbingly violent or murderous. He was a mystery to him, but Toris could see the cracks in his eyes as clearly as the cracks in a mirror.

"Do you think I am crazy, Toris?"

Toris shut his eyes and curled up, giving his mind another nudge to fall asleep.

What is crazy anyways?

Thinking about it again, Toris wondered if he was lying. It was likely—after all, Ivan was just another inmate.

But it didn't feel right. Ivan is crazy. It didn't feel right and nor did it feel true. Even when he said it in his head, it felt like an blatant lie.

Then he remembered why Ivan was imprisoned anyway—murder.

He had delivered death to one person—maybe even two. In his mind's eye, Toris tried to recall the other's face when he spoke to him.

Picturing Ivan's empty smile inside of his own head made his neck prickle, but it wasn't horribly frightening. The other man was like a child almost. His eyes would never stay still and sometimes Toris would catch his lips or hands trembling when they talked to each other.

Despite the other's occasional quandaries, Ivan wasn't entirely someone unpleasant to be around. He remembered the feel of his calloused hands within his own. He remembered how he slowly returned his gestures and gathered enough trust to reveal his name. After all the time that took, Toris almost felt guilty knowing it beforehand—like he had peeked into someone's secret.

His palms prickled and Toris closed them.

Do you really trust me, Ivan?

He buried his face into his pillow and sighed, exhausted. He was just another staff member to him, probably. It would be foolish of him to think he could gain one's trust so easily. Trust was something precious—something to be gathered and built over time.

Having one person to tend to might be my advantage. Unless she assigns me another job in the morning, I can concentrate most of my efforts on him, I guess.

It will be difficult. Maybe Toris couldn't call him crazy, but he couldn't say Ivan was normal either. Even so, he was determined to untangle those threads of thoughts and find the meaning behind his words.

Maybe… maybe you can trust me to try my best.

-x-X-x-

First note, Visailis is entirely fictional, though it was based off the little tidbits I learned about Lithuania's cities during the Soviet era. It was common for old fortresses to be used as torture and interrogation facilities for protesters and members of the opposition.

I think I gave Gilbo a bad rep in The Cat's Cradle, so here he is again, appearing without most of his douche-baggery. I honestly love this guy, too bad it didn't show too much in the other story haha.

Once again, reviews and feedback in general are immensely appreciated :'). Thank you to my anonymous reviewers in advance, and thank you for the faves and alerts. I appreciate the support. It'll be up to you guys to help me get better, and it's thanks to my beta-reader that I'm more comfortable with publishing this chapter. Loves to all.