Chapter Fourteen

St. Victoria's Institute for the Criminally Ill was a bizarre place. Certainly, this is a foregone conclusion, given the very nature of the establishment. An asylum that wasn't odd was simply not an asylum, after all. Just like environment effected the people inhabiting it, an environment was just as vulnerable to this adaptation.

Before St. Victoria's had been a psychiatric hospital, it had been a boarding school. There was nothing particularly noteworthy about the school. Students had learned, teachers had taught, lessons had been conducted. No-one who graduated made any sort of name for themselves. In a word, the school had been entirely mundane. Eventually it shut down, lack of students and lack of funds, and that was that. Throughout its time as a school, the building had been just that – a building. Sure, there had been the usual rumours of students who committed suicide, and the ghost stories that always followed such rumours, but empty tales aside, there had been nothing outstanding about it.

The same could not be said any more. The St. Victoria's of today could not be described with the word mundane. Its inhabitants aside, the building itself... there was something about it.

Time passed strangely at St. Victoria's. It either crawled along, like when you look at a clock then after what seems like hours you look again only to find barely a minute has passed, or it disappeared without a trace, something just devouring the days and weeks and months without a trace.

People too. Just like how the time vanished, people at St. Victoria's had a nasty habit of falling off the face of the earth too, and not just the patients. By the time St. Victoria's reached 2010, there was not a single one of its original inhabitants still roaming the halls.

Environment and inhabitants have a direct effect on one another. It was a foregone conclusion that the inhabitants of St. Victoria's Institute for the Criminally Ill were mad. Why else would they be there? Over the years, the building itself seemed to soak up the mania that infected those dwelling there. Or perhaps it was the building that infected the people, the walls and the doors ensnaring them, the mirrored rooms showing them things that weren't really there, the very air poisoning them until they belonged in that place, even if they never had before.

When Sebastian thought of his life, he thought of it as a play. Just like a play, it was divided into two acts. Act one and all the scenes within it were grouped under 'Pre-St. Victoria's'. Act two was simply 'St. Victoria's'. There was no middle ground, no shade of grey in between. There was before and then there was after.

In this play, Sebastian sometimes considered himself to be two characters played by the same actor. More and more, it was seeming that way. The Sebastian from before St. Victoria's had been hard-working, dedicated and, above all, a rule follower. Rules were there to be followed, after all, and he'd always found that he benefited greatly from doing so.

St. Victoria's Sebastian disagreed. He was breaking rules left, right and centre. He was going directly against his superiors. And he didn't feel a shred of remorse for doing so.

Pre-St. Victoria's Sebastian had been craving excitement. Certainly, he had that in excess now.

It had been four days since Finny's escape. In those four days, Sebastian had been understandably on edge. This was different than the Joker incident. It felt different, anyway. This hadn't been a patient undergoing treatment. This had been staff, someone who was supposed to be safe from their harm, who had found out something he shouldn't have known.

Those four days had passed at a snail's pace. The seconds felt like minutes, the minutes like hours, and the days just refused to end as Sebastian waited to be caught out on his actions. After the third day, he'd begun to relax. Surely if they were going to act, it was going to be immediate?

Sebastian really should have known at that point not to assume logic had any place in the asylum.

It was on the fourth day after Finny's escape that Sebastian was intercepted by one of the three triplets on his way to the ward. Ash was requesting he come to his office.

Sebastian gave a curt smile, turning back the way he had come, all the while thinking, well, shit.

Ash's office was almost identical to Claude's. In fact, it might have had even less personality, if that was at all possible. A completely empty lacquered desk, two matching chairs on one side, a large swivel chair on the other, occupied by the fair-haired Head Orderly.

As Sebastian entered the office, a strong waft of disinfectant hit him. That was another thing about the office – it was immaculately clean, to a clinical degree. Not a speck of dust or errant paper lying around, every surface was glistening with a freshly cleaned sheen. Ash rose from the chair and extended his hand to Sebastian, and god, it was like the man himself had bathed in disinfectant, he smelled so strongly of it.

"Good morning, Sebastian," Ash greeted with a practised smile, gripping his hand a fraction too tightly, then letting go so quickly it was as though Sebastian's touch had burned him.

"Good morning, Ash. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Sebastian wasn't about to give the game away. It would have been a little awkward if Ash had called him there for something completely unrelated and then Sebastian went and let it slip himself.

Ash was transparently amiable. It was in the twitch of his smile, clearly desperate to twist into a sneer. The way his eyes kept glancing away from Sebastian, as though loathe to look at him for any extended period of time. The anti-bacterial hand gel he whipped out as soon as he was done shaking Sebastian's hand was a little hint too, of course.

"Please, sit down. I wanted to thank you personally for taking over my shift for me. You've been a big help." Sebastian had to bite back a smirk. Ash sounded physically pained by making pleasantries, this unfounded mutual distaste for one another clearly hard for him to ignore.

Luckily, Sebastian disliked most people, so he'd had plenty of practise making nice with assholes.

"Don't mention it. I was happy to help. Are you feeling better?"

Please, let it be terminal.

"Oh, it was just a bout of the flu, nothing too serious."

A guy could dream.

"I'm glad to hear it," Sebastian lied, wondering how long Ash could keep pretending to smile like that before his cheeks started to ache.

"And Ciel? He had you playing one of his little games, I suppose," Ash chuckled.

Sebastian mimicked the monotone laugh, "Yes. I tried to keep up with him, but he's a little too much for me."

"Oh, he's a little too much for all of us." Ash's smile faded away like a movie before the credits rolled, the pleasantries done with, down to business. "Truth be told, Sebastian, there was something else I called you here for."

Sebastian cocked his brow, expression nothing but curious.

"I couldn't help noticing... your keycard was registered on the system during the night you took over my shift. In fact, it was registered numerous times."

Shit.

"What exactly were you doing wandering around the building like that, Sebastian?"
If this didn't qualify as a clusterfuck, he didn't know what did. Why had it taken four days for him to be called on it? He'd let his guard down, thought the threat had passed. And why was he being called on it this time when both his ventures down to The Room had gone undetected, or more accurately, ignored.

Ash was smiling again, the type of smile small children ran from.

"It's alright. Curiosity is a weakness all humans suffer, Sebastian, and I see no reason to condemn you for it. No harm, no foul."

...What? Sebastian kept his confusion from his face, not sure how he was supposed to reply. Was this some sort of test? He was fairly certain he had done harm – one broken door, three escaped employees, quite a night's work.

Ash leaned across his desk, this time not shying away from making eye contact, lacing his fingers together like a Bond villain. All he was missing was the hairless cat.

"I just need to know... did you let Ciel out of the ward, Sebastian?"

Sebastian didn't hesitate, even managing to sound offended by the very idea, "Of course not. Ciel got bored of the lack of challenge I presented and went back to his room – said staring at the ceiling would be more entertaining than playing with me – and I... well, like you said, curiosity."

It was such a lacklustre lie. Curiosity could account for wandering the halls, sure, but opening every single door along the way? And surely if the use of his keycard had been registered, so had Agni's? Agni wasn't even supposed to be on the ward that night, he'd have no excuse. Why hadn't he been called to see Ash? Not to mention the decimated door. Oh yes, Sebastian thought, I was so curious I resorted to vandalism.

Ash wouldn't accept such a flimsy excuse. No, he was fucked now. They knew he knew what they'd done, knew about Finny. Hell, as far as they were concerned, he probably knew whatever little secret Finny had found out about the Third Chairman too, and hadn't that been a punishable offence. No doubt the triplets were waiting outside the door, needles in hand, just like it had been with Joker and maybe Finny too – he could probably take them, right? He wasn't a novice when it came to fighting, after all. Three against one, though, and trying to avoid the needle at the same time –

"Yes, that does sound like him!" Ash chuckled, breaking Sebastian away from his little escape plan with a jolt, "I'm very glad to hear that, Sebastian. Please don't be offended. I only ask because, well, as you know the night shift has been my responsibility from before Ciel was even a resident here. So I know just how... persuasive he can be. You wouldn't be the first he's wrapped around his finger, you certainly wouldn't be the last. But, you didn't let him out, so that's that."

Ash rose from his chair with a surprisingly good-humoured smile, clapping Sebastian's shoulder as he walked around the desk. Sebastian took that as his cue and rose too, baffled but relieved, and more than a little suspicious. He wasn't one to look a gift horse in the mouth, but didn't this all seem a little too easy?

Perhaps not that easy. As Ash opened the door for him, the smile turned chilly, and that palpable dislike was back.

"That being said, however, I'm sure you understand that I can't just let this go without some sort of reprimand. Therefore, I'm afraid you'll no longer be eligible to take over my shift for me, Sebastian."

Sebastian didn't even get a chance to respond before the door was swung shut in his face.

It was that time of year again; psychiatric evaluations, probably the most dreaded thing next to the weekly group sessions with Phipps and Grey. As it were, Phipps and Grey led the charge, John and his faithful 'friend' Albert providing back-up, whilst Claude sat in the back acting like he didn't know any of them.

One by one, the patients were led from the ward by whichever Orderly was closest and brought to Phipps and Grey's shared office. There, they'd be quizzed and assessed on the nine basic criteria. It was always an enduring affair for all involved, the patients unwilling to co-operate, the psychiatrists having no patience to speak of, and it was no wonder they only bothered with the annoyance once a year.

All day it had been going on and, finally, Ciel Phantomhive was escorted to the psychiatrist's office. He hadn't even taken the waiting chair before the assessment began.

"Never met a hairbrush, brat?" John wasn't even looking at Ciel, eyes hidden by those ridiculous sunglasses, facing the wall like it was the most fascinating thing he'd ever beheld. The puppet was looking at him. Well, as much as a thing with buttons for eyes could look at someone.

Great. Now even the dolls were critiquing his appearance. Hello, Rock Bottom.

Ciel had already decided he wasn't going to talk if he could help it. It had less to do with stubbornness and more to do with the fact that he was probably a better therapist than any one of them, and he actually was sectioned.

The puppet managed to give the impression of rolling its eyes without actually having any.

"S'gone mute, now. Cat got your tongue?"

"Ah, ah! He's allergic to them, remember? He wouldn't be mute so much as swollen like a blimp. I think he's just being antisocial. Better get that down, Doc," Grey joined the one-sided conversation, tutting at Ciel like he'd broken the good china.

"Duly noted. Antisocial, mute, swollen," Phipps mumbled as he jotted the words on his clipboard.

Ciel's face actually hurt with the effort to not scowl, the morons doing nothing for his already short temper. His eye flickered over to the silent Claude then immediately returned to the wall, not surprised but still unsettled by the intense amber eyes he'd met. He'd seen them now, though, and was all the more aware of them. It was like he could actually feel them crawling over his face, his body, and how much could he see? It always felt like Claude could see everything, everything Ciel tried to hide, and he felt so bare under that gaze.

The ridiculous assessment continued, the three baiting an unresponsive Ciel and making up whatever diagnoses suited them. All the while, Claude was silent, set apart from the group, just watching like he always had done.

After the assessment, Ciel was led down to the infirmary for his physical. Claude dismissed the Three Stooges, taking Ciel down there himself.

"Hello, Ciel! My, haven't you grown?" Doctor was as bubbly as always, giving Ciel a beaming grin as he entered, and Ciel gave a slight nod. As a matter of fact, he hadn't grown an inch since his physical the previous year – not that he measured or anything, he hardly cared about such insignificant things – but at least the man tried.

"Sit, sit." Ciel did as bade, taking the chair beside Doctor's. Without any further preamble, Doctor's hands were on him, recording his temperature, taking his blood pressure, measuring his respiratory rate. All the while, Doctor chattered away, but if asked later, Ciel wouldn't be able to tell you what about. Claude was watching him once more, leaning against the wall by the door, and it took all of Ciel's concentration to not give him exactly what he wanted. He stared at Doctor as though actually hearing his words, focused on not cringing away from the probing hands, resisting the temptation to smack them away.

He succeeded for the most part, at least until the weighing.

"Just stand right there – no, a little to the left – there we go," Doctor chuntered beneath his breath, poking Ciel until he was standing right in the middle of the scale. But then his hand had drifted a little too low on Ciel's hip and, completely unintentionally, Ciel had lashed Doctor's hand away from him.

Doctor hadn't even looked away from the scale, hardly seemed to notice, but Claude's eyes had narrowed. Then Doctor was asking for a word in private, "Ciel, could you wait outside a moment? I need to speak with Dr. Faustus, just for a tick."

Ciel could do nothing but oblige, irritation flooding through him. He wanted to stay, wanted to hear what they were saying about him, but he knew when to do as he was told. He'd fucked up, rose to the accidental bait.

Doctor had meant it when he said a moment. Ciel had barely touched the chair outside before Claude was exiting the infirmary. He didn't say anything, simply cocked a finger, not even stopping in his stride. He knew Ciel would follow, and resisting the urge to flip him off behind his back, follow Ciel did.

Their destination was Claude's office, a place Ciel had been very few actual times. Usually their sessions took place in other parts of the building, places it didn't matter if a mess was made, so the office was very unfamiliar to him. It did nothing for Ciel's unease, being in a room belonging solely to Claude.

Claude waited for Ciel to sit down before taking his own seat. The boy was worried Claude was going to tuck his chair in or something.

Claude removed his glasses and rested them on the desk, nothing now between Ciel and those amber eyes.

"I'd like you to tell me how you sustained those injuries, Ciel."

Ciel couldn't help the small widening of his eye, barely perceptible shock that no-one would notice, no-one but Claude Faustus. The question took him so off guard that he actually couldn't speak, rather than simply choosing not to.

Claude took a slip of paper from his blazer pocket and read back, "A split head, a gash along the left palm, several scratches along the face and a heavily bruised back," he looked back to Ciel, an inscrutable look flickering over his usually empty face, "How did you get these injuries, Ciel?"

He'd forgotten, actually forgotten about the array of injuries he'd accumulated over the past two weeks. Surely those scratches should have healed by now? And had Agni really tackled him so hard that his back had bruised? Ciel kept his bemusement off his face, adopting a well-rehearsed smirk and quipping, "Clumsy me, ran into a door, Doctor."

Claude acted as though he hadn't even heard Ciel's answer, that look from before resurfacing that Ciel didn't want to identify.

"Who did this to you, Ciel?"
There was a definite edge to his words, an undercurrent of something sharp that Ciel didn't want to place. He didn't answer. Sure, he could concoct some story about rough-housing with one of the other patients, losing his temper and lashing out, but Claude would see through it. Somehow, Claude always knew when Ciel was lying, even when every one else fell for it.

Claude nodded as though accepting that Ciel wasn't going to answer. "On top of the injuries, Doctor noticed that you've lost quite a bit of weight since your last weighing. You're also displaying signs of exhaustion. Considering this, your injuries and your silence on the matter, I have no other choice than to conclude that you're self-harming."

Before he could stop himself, Ciel scoffed, indignation plastered clearly across his face – and those amber eyes only watched him more intently, a flicker of what was undoubtedly satisfaction at having gotten even the slightest rise out of him – and Ciel forced himself to be blank once more.

Of course he couldn't tell the truth, but lying wasn't an option either. Claude would know, he always knew. Hell, some of the injuries were self-inflicted. The scratches on his face and the gash on his palm, definitely. Neither could he honestly deny that he'd been eating and sleeping poorly since the entire Finny débâcle had begun.

So Ciel stayed silent, and once again, Claude took that silence for affirmation.

"As such, I'll be increasing your sessions with me. Rather than once, we'll be seeing each other three times weekly from now on."

"Medicine changes?"

There was a unified mumble which Joker took to be a negative. He nodded, pacing around the leisure room, his skeletal arm swinging uselessly behind him. He'd stopped keeping it in the makeshift sling Jumbo had made him a while ago, it only aggravating what remained of the tattered skin. His own assessment had been enduring, more enduring than he remembered any of his past ones being, and Doctor had been entirely too fascinated by his arm for Joker's comfort. There'd always been something about the man that had his hackles rising, the physical had done nothing to dispel that feeling. He was out of sorts, couldn't summon up his usual carefree demeanour despite his best efforts. That was having a knock-on effect on his companions, all the patients gathered together in the leisure room, discussing their evaluations as was tradition.

"Any of the staff act weird with ya? Touch you in the naughty place?" Even his usual attempts at lightening the mood had that unhinged edge to them, that he could hear himself but couldn't seem to stop.

"Mate, sit the fuck down, will ya? Just watching you is wearing me out," Dagger exclaimed, grabbing the front of Joker's sweatshirt and pulling him down onto the couch.

"Sounds like we all had the same sort of thing," Freckles stated, "Same old, same old, I guess."

Dagger pouted, "Hardly! Bloody Doc says I've put on too much weight and they're putting me on a diet, can you believe that? They barely ever feed us, how the hell can I have put on weight. I'm fading away-"
"I wasn't gonna say anything, but your arse has been expanding lately," Beast couldn't help putting in, sending Dagger to his usual Corner Of Woe.

Soma, playing look-out, announced the incoming staff and the group dispersed, Ciel going over to his usual armchair. He'd been as silent as usual during the little gossip circle, not sharing just what the consequences of his evaluation had been. Absently, he wondered if perhaps the others were the same. Had things really not changed for them? Or were they just trying to avoid the worry, like Ciel was? The prospect of more sessions with Claude was a chilling one. He needed that week between them to recover, to regain footing in himself before the next session came and Claude broke his balance all over again.

As his mind wandered, Ciel's hands burrowed into his pockets, fingers skimming over the little paper note inside. Even now, he hadn't been able to bring himself to part with the post-it, despite constant reasoning with himself that he wasn't going to forget again. As his fist tightened around the paper, he saw them again, the trio leaving the Institute for good.

He could have gone with them. Sebastian had even said he wouldn't stop him. He could have climbed that wall and disappeared with Finny, turning his back on St. Victoria's once and for all. Not that he really believed that would be the end, of course, but it would have been some kind of start. He couldn't help thinking that this development with Claude was some sort of punishment – he'd had a golden opportunity for freedom, but he'd turned his back on it, and why? Because it hadn't sat with his pride.

Moron.

Alois perched on the arm of his chair, slumping against the back with a sigh. He was worrying his lip between his teeth, the skin so red it looked ready to bleed. The starkness of the red made him look a lot paler than usual, and for the first time in a while, Ciel truly looked at his friend.

Alois looked ill, and not mentally. Circles almost as dark as Ciel's beneath his eyes, exhaustion just emanating from him, a weariness that seemed sown into his skin. Was another Jim episode coming on?

"I lied," Alois confessed in a whisper, and if he looked tired then he sounded dead.

Ciel cocked a brow, waiting for him to go on.

"They have changed my meds. Didn't wanna tell them, cause – well, just didn't want to. They said it was gonna be an experimental trial. A month, then if it works, permanently."

"What's it called?" Ciel asked, sitting up, also whispering without even noticing.

"Zydrate," Alois replied, nose scrunched up in confusion. Ciel hadn't ever heard of such a drug either, and that did not bode well. "Your turn."

"Faustus has upped my sessions. I'll be seeing him every Monday, Wednesday and Friday now," Ciel shared, watching Alois' face carefully. He didn't miss the shadow form in those sky blue eyes, something sharper than just jealousy, and Alois' voice was sharp enough to cut when he chuckled, "Lucky~"

Ciel couldn't help the sudden feeling of uneasiness, having seen that expression on Alois before but never felt it directed at him, not before then. He tore his eye away, "Try and keep a diary or something of this Zydrate thing. Its affect, how it's administered, that kind of thing. More we know about it the better."

Alois just nodded, not looking quite so exhausted any more. Ciel wasn't exactly the best at reading atmospheres, but goddammit, even he could feel that odd kind of tension that had descended on them. It wasn't something he wanted to acknowledge, however. Not now, at least, when he was already at his wit's end with the day and people as a whole. Without another word, Ciel rose from the chair and slipped into his room.

Sebastian joined him shortly after. He wasn't looking too hot himself, a general air of being fed-up about him. Too much of the day had been spent fretting, not letting himself believe that that was it, that Ash was really just letting it go, just like that. He'd spoken to Agni; nothing. None of the higher-ups had summoned him to their office, no-one had called him on the use of his card, not even a slap on the wrist.

It made no sense then and it still made no sense after hours of picking it to pieces in his head.

He really had to stop trying to make sense of St. Victoria's. Many things dwelt in the asylum walls, but sense was not one of them.

Ciel glanced up from his book, briefly acknowledging Sebastian's presence. Sebastian nodded back, going about picking up some of the mess from Ciel's floor. He'd fought the urge for a while, he wasn't the boy's maid, but ugh, if he was going to be in here daily then he wanted to at least be able to see the carpet.

As he sifted through the dashing array of crap cluttering the floor, Sebastian announced, "Ash got me."

That got Ciel's attention, a flicker of panic, "What happened?"

"Nothing. That's the problem. The only thing that really came of it was Ash saying I wasn't eligible for the night shift any more."

Ciel hummed, setting the book aside.

"That may not be such a bad thing, really, as long as nothing like the Finny thing happens again. It'll take the spotlight off you. The less noticed you are, the safer you are."

"True. Still, it just seems too easy."
Ciel snickered, "I promise you, it isn't. You're not the one who has to endure Ash all night. The man has the personality of a brick wall, and even less gaming skill."

"True, that. So how did the evaluation go?"

"My sessions with Faustus have been tripled – self-harm accusations and all that," Ciel grimaced, then added beneath his breath, too quiet for Sebastian to hear, "Not to mention Alois has come over all bunny-boiler on me."

Sebastian gave a mock cringe, "Diddums. Have to say, Faustus aside... you actually seem in a rather good mood. You haven't taken my hand off for touching your stuff, for one thing."

It was true. Although on the surface he seemed rather perturbed, the prospect of extended time with the bespectacled Doctor would do that to a person, Sebastian noticed that Ciel was more at ease. At Sebastian's words, a small smile curled Ciel's lips. Not a smirk, not a sneer, a sincere smile, as small and almost unnoticeable as it was.

"The repercussions were to be expected. After all, we went directly against the Institute, Sebastian," his smile became a full-fledged little grin, almost impish, and he repeated with more vigour, "We went against the Institute, Sebastian. And we won. I've never had a win like this. They can throw whatever they like at me, at us, because at the end of the day, we won."