[of our own device]

Who: Cameron and Miguel
When: Afternoon
Where: Nearby Serenity Garden

( and you're in fight or flight mode. )

Who: Justice, Katya, Nisha and Cameron
When: 6:40 pm
Where: the other elevator car!

Justice’s schedule had gotten off track again. Although, as he’d often pondered during his decades here, what difference did it make when he did what? He’d slept most of the day away, and after getting up and taking a cursory shower—his hair was barely toweled dry and stood up damp and spiky on his head, and he hadn’t bothered to shave his scruff, but he was clean enough—he’d left his room and padded down to the elevator. Time for some food. It was dinnertime, but he hadn’t eaten since about 2 a.m. He didn’t especially care what he had, but he was feeling a bit overdue for nourishment of some sort.

There were other people getting onto the elevator when he did, but he wouldn’t have to endure them for that long, Justice thought as he got on last and poked at the button for the first floor, which was already lit up. He was aware that punching the damn thing wouldn’t make the door close faster, but he always felt inclined to do it anyway. Finally the door eased closed and the elevator started to move. It was business as usual until, with an abrupt jolt, the car stopped halfway down and the lights went out, leaving them illuminated by a faint red glow.

Justice, with his superior sense of patience, rammed the heel of his hand into the control panel. “C’mon, fucker,” he demanded.

Who: Cameron.
Where: Cameron’s room.
When: Early morning.
Warnings: Triggers for self-harm.

It was still light by the time he made it back to his room, his thoughts scattered and his hands shaking so badly that he almost couldn’t twist the doorknob to get inside. He had the same trouble twisting the lock once he was inside to seal himself in, seal everyone else out, shut the world out and keep it away. His fingers felt clumsy and uncoordinated and his stomach was a tight knot, almost painful. Awkwardly he crossed to the window looking out and drew the curtains, pulling them a little harder than was necessary but not even hearing the rings rattle in protest on the rail overhead. Cameron was physically present but mentally he was elsewhere. Emotionally was anyone’s guess. Mentally he was still down in the lobby trying to figure out why he couldn’t leave, why he couldn’t get back on his way. When he’d left his wretched little apartment it had been with the intention of trying to turn his life around -- or at least try -- and now to find out that he couldn’t do that, that some force he couldn’t possibly understand was keeping him from doing so, ( it was more than he could take. )

Who: Cameron and OPEN.
Where: Cameron’s room / Reception.
When: Mid-morning.

Almost as soon as he’d reached his room last night Cameron had crawled onto the bed that had looked so inviting and drifted off to sleep. Dropped off might have been a more accurate way of describing it, such was his exhaustion, he hadn’t even taken the time to remove his clothes or visit the bathroom. As tired as he’d been he had slept longer than usual, deeper than usual as well, and when he woke up he felt disoriented, confused, not knowing where he was or why. His heart had started beating faster and his fingers had started to tingle as anxiety had settled in, his breathing growing shallow until he sat up and swung his legs off the bed, shaky as they were. That was when he’d seen his bag -- map and all, sitting atop it -- dropped beside the door to what he could only imagine was the bathroom. A hotel bathroom.

His car had broken down. He’d walked for what had felt like hours, found this place, requested a room for the night. Cameron swallowed against the dryness of his throat and lifted his hands to press the heels into his closed eyes to try and rub the sleep from them before rising from the edge of the mattress and moving to the bathroom. Apparently he’d had enough presence of mind to remove his jacket before collapsing on his bed but his shirt hadn’t escaped unscathed and it was easy to see the wrinkles and folds in the fabric where he’d rested his weight on them for long periods of time. Cameron huffed out a sigh, mentally berating himself for the lapse in judgement before looking around for a clock. By the bed, of course, and when he stuck his head out the door to look at it he saw it was gone nine, long past time he checked out and got back on the road by any means necessary. Maybe he could get a tow truck to come and collect his wounded old car, hopefully he could catch a ride to the next pocket of civilisation, find a phone and call ahead to let the college know he was still interested.

There was no time to make himself presentable, he’d slept too long as it was, and as he grabbed up his jacket and bag, draining what little was left in the bottle of water the receptionist had given him last night before heading out the door and back down to the lobby. When he got into the elevator his hands were still shaking, the pins-and-needles of anxiety still present in his fingers, creeping through his hands and towards his wrists. He let out a hurried breath to try and calm himself, a minimal effort that was ultimately wasted, it did nothing to help and when the doors opened and let him out on the ground floor he made a beeline for the reception desk, looking around for the member of staff on duty as he did so. “Hello?” he called out after several seconds in which he saw no sign of movement. There was no bell or buzzer in sight, and even if there had been he might not have pressed one. Cameron had always thought of bells and buzzers and pushy, and that was the last thing he wanted to be.

Who: Cameron and Christine.
Where: Reception.
When: Very early morning.

He didn’t realise just how tired he was until he finished walking down the long drive. It had felt like miles, and in reality that was exactly what it had been, most likely, at least from the road. The car was still back there somewhere but Cameron couldn’t see it when he glanced back over his shoulder, he struggled to see the end of that winding drive with its carefully manicured shrubs and flowerbeds. Cameron realised his whole body felt heavy, his head was thick with an exhaustion that had crept up on him in the time it had taken to walk from his wounded and unresponsive car to these doors. It made sense really, he realised, it was a long way and he’d been awake for a while before his car had given out on him.

The hotel was a godsend, or at least that was what he would have thought if he believed in God, in miracles and signs and that sort of thing. Cameron had stopped believing in such things as a child. He’d stopped believing in Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny at a young age too. Thinking about them now almost made him smile but it was short-lived and then he realised there was someone beyond those doors, someone behind a desk that was so very at home in a place like the one in front of which he stood and he really ought to move. Do something. And so he did, his bag held in one hand while his other reached out and pushed at the door to set foot inside the hotel that he hadn’t seen a single sign for along the road. Strange, or at least it would have seemed that way if he wasn’t so tired.

Drawing in a deep breath that was equal parts relief and exhaustion Cameron let the door closed behind him all the way before he took another step, and then another, and another until he reached the desk, trying and failing to muster a sincere smile when he got there. He had to settle for a false one but the woman on the other side of the desk was probably used to that by now. “Hi,” he said, hearing that relief and weariness in his voice. “I was wondering if I could get a room for the night?” And maybe borrow the phone in the morning so that he could call someone to come and take a look at his car, but that could wait until after he’d had some sleep.