Chapter Three
Out of Place
Logan kicked off his shoes, tossed his crown, and grabbed the nearest pillow, holding it over his head in an attempt to dull the rising ache. His thoughts traveled to the object he'd thrown across the room only minutes earlier, but he roughly shook off the thought. He knew he should never touch it again. He knew it was bad news. But that didn't stop the fact that his head was pounding, his hands were shaking, and it was the only thing that stopped the pain. Someone knocked on the door of his room, and he bit back a hiss of pain at the sound. He stood up and opened it, however, noting with some sort of strangled satisfaction that it was Patton, and he looked concerned.
"Lo, I'm so-" Logan signaled with his hand for him to stop, and he did so with a hurt look.
"No, I'm sorry. I was being immature." He said, watching the cute way Patton's eyes lit up.
"Having emotions isn't immature, kiddo." Patton told him. "I'm just glad you're opening up to us, and that you're at least mostly okay." He smiled.
"Maybe they aren't, but the way I reacted to them was." Logan continued. "I really would love to stay and talk, but I have a horrible headache, and the noise is aggravating it."
"Oh, I'm sorry, Lo." Patton lowered his voice by quite a lot. Logan smiled slightly at the effort.
"Not to worry, Patton. He nodded at him and gently closed the door. And dear god did he want to slam it, but that only would have made everything worse. He took a step towards his bed, and his toe tapped something. He looked down at the pill bottle he had thrown earlier. He didn't need it. Shouldn't touch it again. Didn't want it. He picked it up and studied it for a moment. The sight of it sent a chill down his spine.
He'd been in the kitchen room for a few days by this point. He could not, for the life of him, figure out how to escape. He'd tried everything he could think of, and Remy and Caesar had stopped replying to him. According to the clock on the wall, and the tally marks he had scratched underneath it, it had been roughly 27 hours since he had last heard another person's voice, and he was starting to feel a small, cold sensation in his chest that he could vaguely label as hopelessness. He had refused to attempt to find food in that room for as long as possible, because he hated the idea of admitting he was stuck, but this was the third day. So he finally opened the fridge. It was stocked full of jars of jam, and Logan immediately knew something was wrong with what he was looking at. There is no way in hell that Remy and Caesar would have put his favorite food in there. It was obvious they were trying to break him. He took hold of one of the jars and turned it slowly around. It was Crofters, but Logan had never seen the label before. It read: Roman's Red Berry Jam. Confused, he picked it up. Underneath was a sticky note. He reached into the refrigerator and plucked it off the shelf. It read: "Your frustrated right?" Sure there were more notes, he picked up the next jar. "Your scared". Another jar. "Theres no escape". Another jar. "Your going to die". Another jar. "It isnt what it looks like". Another jar. "You cant see it". Another jar. "They will let you see". Another jar. "You cant leave without it". The last jar. There was no sticky note. There was a compartment door in the shelf. Looking to the shelf below, there was no room or place for a compartment to be. Perhaps it was shallow. There may be some sort of written clue on paper. He opened it and, to his surprise, there was a deep compartment, tall enough to fit probably another jar of jam, but too thin. There was a thin bottle of something he couldn't quite see inside. Both confused and curious, he reached in to grab it. When he pulled it out, his confusion increased. It was a pill bottle with no real label. Instead, a strip of paper was taped around it with the hand drawn label 'Literal Chill Pills'.
"What the hell?" He mumbled to himself. For the first time in far too long, Remy's voice rang out from the ceiling.
"Oh hey." He commented, surprised. "You found them. I didn't think you were going to find the ones in this chamber. Well anyways, you did, and you're going to have to take one of them."
"You are insane." Logan shot at the disembodied voice. "I have no idea what these could do to me, taking them would be idiotic at best. It could kill me!"
"Or it could save you." Remy replied. "I mean, I'd understand if you wanted to stay until everything blows over, I can't imagine how obnoxious Virgil and Patton are to be around when they're in this state, and you never really liked Roman."
"How dare you insinuate I don't want him back? Roman is a light side, part of the family!" Logan roared.
"But are you?" And that was the last time Logan would hear from Remy until he made it out of the maze. That was the last time for a long time that he would hear from anyone. He shouted and screamed, cursed and pleaded, but everything besides him was still and silent and unchanging and he couldn't take it anymore. He began tearing apart the kitchen. He wasn't even looking anymore, he was pissed. He picked up just about everything that wasn't bolted down and threw it as hard as he could. The pill bottle, utensils, containers, jars, stools, everything he could get his hands on was left in pieces, strewn on the floor, and he still felt powerless, trapped, useless. There was nothing he could do, and he hated not knowing what was happening outside the walls without him. He slid down the wall to the floor, his eyes on the clock. They had to let him go eventually. They couldn't keep him here forever. Minutes passed. Then hours. Then days. None of this was possible and he knew that. It wasn't possible for a human being to go this long without water. A human being couldn't go that long without sleep. He knew it, but the hands appeared to be moving at a normal speed, and he scratched a tick mark into the wall every time the hour hand went all the way around the clock. He counted them. 24. That was 12 days. But it wasn't possible. He would be dead. A helpless sob escaped his throat, though he tried to hold it back. This couldn't be happening. He was asleep. It was an awful, horrible nightmare. All of it. Another sob made its way forward, and Logan couldn't stop it. He dissolved into tears for the first time since he'd commited suicide. He'd ended his life nearly two years ago. He knew it would make everything better. Knowledge should never be tainted by emotions. Emotions and Logic were seperate beings all together, hence the existence of both him and Patton. But dying didn't work. He should have gone grey, he always knew about that theory, the idea that he would only be capable of protecting Thomas's intellectual mind and nothing else was amazing. He would finally be free from the cold tendrils of sorrow and self-loathing that constantly gripped his chest and Thomas would be better. But it didn't work. Logan could still feel, and all he could feel was the cold, and Thomas got worse. He knew he made a mistake but he couldn't admit it. Not to himself, not to the others, especially not to Thomas. All that would come of it would be pain for all of them. Virgil, likely, would be angry with him, it would feel like a slap to the face. Logan never had any struggles in his life, he was inherently in Thomas's limelight. Everyone always looked up to him as a strong leader and a force of good, and Virgil had to fight tooth and nail to be noticed. He struggled even harder to be understood as something that might not be inherently evil. And it took nearly just as much from there to be accepted as necessary and helpful. It would be as though Logan was telling him all of his struggles were small and inconsequential. Patton would blame himself. He'd feel as though he wasn't good enough for Logan. Patton placed himself in the role of the dad, and feeling that he was so awful at his job that one of his 'sons' killed himself would destroy him. He would cry and apologize, and Logan wouldn't be able to take that. The cold in his chest would drown him, and Patton would feel even worse. He'd make it his job to 'fix' him and bring him back, and every time something he tried failed, he would break all over again. He was fragile. Likewise, Roman would blame himself. He was the self-proclaimed hero of Thomas's mindscapes, he made it his job to save everyone. Friends, strangers, enemies. If he realized that Logan had died, and he had never done anything, didn't even notice, it would crush him. His confidence would plummet, and Thomas's in turn. Roman would fall into a similar loop as Patton, trying to 'save' him and failing, each time hating himself more and more, the whole time Virgil would be glaring at Logan with disgust, trying to convince Roman and Patton that it wasn't worth it, that they should leave him alone. They wouldn't listen, they'd continue on in their self-destructive loops. Virgil would fall back into his old, hate and fear fueled ways of protecting himself as he began to suspect that they hated him, and he'd likely run back to the dark sides for solace, returning as a hero for the chaos that was left behind him, something that he would hate himself for. And with all of that, Thomas would be left an emotional wreck. His ideas would be shot, useless, unoriginal. He'd cry and be overwhelmed at everything. His anxiety would spike at the smallest things, and Logan would be helpless to do anything. So Logan never told anyone. And now he was here. Maybe that's why he wasn't dying. He was too close to death as it was. Logic couldn't be killed, only muffled. He would be here until thomas died, and nothing would end his suffering. He allowed himself to look away from the clock. There was a sticky note on the counter directly across from him that he hadn't noticed before. It couldn't have been there before, everything that had been on that counter had been cleared off and thrown. The sticky note read: Take one and the pain will go away. With no other choice, Logan reached for the bottle.
Patton's voice brought him back to reality.
"Logan, kiddo. I heard crying, are you okay? Do you need me to bring you anything." He called softly through the door. It took Logan a second to realize tears were streaking down his face, the tracks stinging his cheeks. He had been crying out loud. He had slid down to the ground, his hand about to grasp the pill bottle in an exact mockery of what he had just been remembering. His breath caught in his throat, and he tore his eyes and hand away from the bottle.
"No Patton." He said, trying to keep his voice as steady as possible. "I'm fine."
"Are you sure kiddo?" A small kind of pain erupted in Logan's chest at Patton's gentle, caring voice. He wanted to tell him what he was going through. He wanted to tell him that he hated himself, that he felt weak, that he had a sinking suspicion he'd become addicted to psychedelics he didn't even know the name of, that he felt emotion so strongly now than he did before that it was physical pain, that whenever Patton spoke it sent warm daggers through his heart. He wanted to collapse into his arms and allow Patton to hold him until it was no longer comforting.
"I'm sure." He said.
"Alright, Lo." He said softly. "Call me if you need anything, I'll be right here."
"Thank you." Logan whispered. And he hoped Patton could hear him.
"I love you." Patton said through the door. "Even if you don't believe me." Ice replaced Logan's heart for a moment. Patton knew. At least a little. Logan heard the first of hesitant footsteps backing away from his door. He wanted to call out for Patton. To ask him to wait. But he couldn't bring himself to open his mouth and by the time the footsteps could no longer be heard, the pain that Logan had been feeling earlier practically tripled. He bit back a pained groan and stuffed his fist in his mouth to stifle it. Fresh tears leaked from his eyes, and he leaned back against his door, terrified and in pain, hating himself for having this issue. He tried to level his breathing, but God it hurt. With shaking hands he reached for the pill bottle, fumbling with it as he tried to open it quickly as possible. Taking two of them out, he swallowed them down quickly, not bothering to get anything to wash them down with. He replaced the lid, getting to his feet shakily, waiting for the pills to set in. He threw himself back onto his bed. He was weak. Useless. But at least he was starting to ache less. He could not understand why he had wanted to come back to life again after he died. Now that he had, he couldn't stand it. It was pain, pure pain, and he remembered why he wanted to die in the first place. He was useless like this. He laid there, waiting, until a small sort of tingling numbness had spread through his entire body. After a moment or two, Logan had entirely forgotten why he was so upset. He felt good. Calm. He sat up. His room had shifted, it was slanted, to the point where he had to tilt his head to the side fairly far to see everything right side up. Standing straight was a bit of a challenge, it felt like he was sliding on the floor a little bit, so when he tried to walk forward, he stumbled a bit, but there was no little jolt of fear stumbling would usually give him. He still felt calm. A smile stole over his face, and he stumbled only once more while he walked to his bedroom door. He opened the door, walking out into the hall that connected his and Virgil's rooms. Both of them had rooms that bordered the light and dark domain. Logic Hall was very closely connected to what used to be Delusion Hall. That always worried Logan, but now, Delusion Hall was full of dust and cobwebs. He hadn't heard a noise coming from there since he appeared to Thomas, pretending to be a transformed Roman. Curiosity piqued, he slowly opened the door that connected their halls. He was right about the cobwebs. It was packed full of them. He shuffled his way into the hall, looking around. Besides the slant, the hall was perfectly normal, but like a really old castle. Logan looked down when he heard a small squeak by his foot. There was a small rat next to his foot.
"Hey." He said to it quietly. "I'm Logan, what's your name." The rat looked up, and its tiny mouth started moving rapidly as though it were chewing. "Sorry buddy, I don't speak garbage puppy." He tilted his head as the rat continued to chew the air. "Maybe you're just very quiet." He knelt down next to the small animal and slowly reached toward him to pick him up. The rat flinched violently and squeaked but allowed Logan to pick him up. "What's your name, small creature?" The rat began making small clicking sounds, almost as if he gnashing its teeth. "That sounds like a happy sound." Logan claimed, moving his arms to more of a cradling position. The rat scuttled up his left arm, settling on his shoulder near his ear, continuing to make his clicking sounds. "You are a very joyous small being." Logan commented. "I'll call you Daylyn." He decided. "Do you like that name?" The continuation of the rat's happy sounds was confirmation enough for him. "Alright, Daylyn it is." With Daylyn still on his shoulder, he moved deeper into the corridor. He heard footsteps coming from down the hall. Daylyn's happy noise cut off abruptly, and he scrambled down into Logan's shirt pocket, peeking his head out of the top. "Wonder who that is." Logan mussed to his new friend. It had been at least an hour since he stormed out of the conversation with the others, he was sure at least most of them were back in Thomas's mindscapes by now. It was, most likely, a dark side that was here. No light side would be wandering the Dark Domains at this point in time, and the Chaos Rifters almost never left the rift, with the exception of Remy. He supposed it could've been an outlander, the sides of Thomas's that have little to no effect on him and live in their own realm of the mindscapes away from the warring of Light and Dark, but they likely were far too scared to enter any of the kingdoms. If they were to enter any, it would likely not be the Dark Domain. Expecting a dark side, Logan strode toward the footsteps. "Oh, I was right, good day Lucius." Logan greeted the king of darkness. Lucius tilted his head ever so slightly to one side.
"Were you looking for me, Logic?" He asked.
"No." Logan replied casually, looking around.
"What are you looking for then?" He asked with a slight hint of curiosity.
"I'll know when I see it." Logan replied with honesty. He looked around. "I don't think it's here though." Lucius looked confused.
"Logic, you aren't acting yourself." He pointed out.
"Am I not? I hadn't noticed." Logan said, confused. The ground felt as though it shifted beneath his feet again, as the room turned completely on it's side rather than just being tilted. He lost his footing and fell against the wall, which was now in the position of the floor. Daylyn squeaked in alarm, but thankfully he hadn't been in the pocket on the side of Logan that collided with the wall. Disoriented, Logan attempted to stand on shaky legs.
"Logic, are you ill?" Lucius asked with a slight possible touch of concern. "And why is there a rat in your pocket?" Finally getting to his feet, but stumbling a few times, he considered the questions.
"I do not believe myself to be ill." He answered. "And as for the rat, his name is name is Daylan, and he is my new friend."
"You picked up a wild rat, named it, and put it in your pocket?" Lucius asked.
"No of course not." Logan said indignantly. "Who do you think I am? He climbed into my pocket himself, I didn't just force him there." He scoffed. Lucius gave him a critical, sweeping glance.
"You're high off your ass right now." He stated. "You have no idea what's happening, do you?"
"Well, I am probably high." Logan nodded. "You're only supposed to take one, I took two, and they're already weird. But I know what's happening. I'm standing in Delusion Hall with a rat in my pocket, talking to the personification of greed." Lucius laughed. His laugh was chilling and merciless, and though it was only him who laughed it sounded like maybe two or three sides were laughing alongside him.
"Yes, I suppose you are. But we really must ask ourselves what you are doing here, and why is it that Logic of all sides is the one to have drug issues." He drawled, leaning on the wall. It was a strange sight to Logan, because it looked as though Lucius wasl laying on the floor, his feet propped against the wall to hold him up.
"I take the pills because they keep the pain away." He replied. Lucius shook his head and tutted, his eyes taking on an eerie silver glow.
"Logan, how do you still think you're a light side?" He drawled in a silky voice, straightening and taking a step towards him.
"What?" Was about all that Logan could manage to get out. He felt even more calm and lethargic than before, as though he had taken four or five of the pills, something he had done before. Lucius made his way closer to him, slinking toward him, the glow becoming brighter.
"Look at yourself, Logan. You're a mess. You do drugs, you keep secrets, you lash out at the people you care about. You're one of us. Come home, Logan. Come to your true family." He reached his hand out for Logan to take. Almost of its own accord, his hand began to reach out to Lucius's. Just as their fingers were about to touch, Logan heard Patton's voice, full of concern and worry, asking him where he was. "Go tell him where you're going. Go tell your king you're leaving." Logan found himself nodding, and slowly moving toward the entrance to Logic Hall. Lucius's power seemed to lose hold on him as he neared his own side of the corridor, and the farther from him that he got, the clearer his mind became. He also found, however, that he didn't disagree with Lucius. He was addicted, after all, to drugs. He did keep secrets from the others. He'd killed himself before. He lashed out and purposely hurt people physically and emotionally if he started to feel cornered, even if they were people he claimed to love. He was evil. He was dark. And they didn't need him tainting the bright light that controlled Thomas's personality. He was useless here, but he fit with the dark sides. It all made sense to him now. He felt so useless and pathetic because he was, and always has been, quite simply, out of place.
