roman brock & the curious case of walter bishop. (findthetruth) wrote in thereincarnates, @ 2011-01-25 20:03:00 |
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Entry tags: | roman brock |
Who: Roman Brock.
What: Roman and Walter discuss his test results.
When: Late Tuesday evening.
Where: Walter Bishop's laboratory.
Warnings: Depression, mild language, and a side of Roman very few ever see.
I'm very sorry, Roman.
Walter couldn't stop apologizing. Even if he wished to, he wouldn't. Not until Roman spoke another word. He needed him to listen, he needed him to understand, but he refused. He said nothing, not aloud, not within his thoughts. For the first time in a very long time, Roman Brock had nothing to say. He sat on his cot, alone in the laboratory, staring out at the expanse of flooring beneath his feet. He didn't notice that his shoe was untied, or that his streams of breath were so shallow, he mightn't have been breathing at all.
Very sorry, Roman.
Roman brushed his palm across his chin, scratching at the soft build of stubble on his cheek. He lost track of how many times his eyes blinked, but Walter had the count at 402. 403. 404. "Stop," Roman's voice cracked, but no muscle twitched, no thought came to his head. He watched the floor. Ah! R-Roman, you're speaking again! Good! I knew you would - "Stop." Roman repeated the word, but it sounded more vulnerable, on the verge of some new feeling - if he was even able to feel something then. Nothing affected him as he'd left Dr. Cruz's office; not the cold, or the sting of the wind on his cheeks, nor the way his knee cracked into his desk on the trek to his cot.
There was nothing.
"Good," he spat, and Walter whimpered within his thoughts, "What's good about this, Walter? What's good - what's good about any of this?" He was unable to speak above a hoarse whisper. Both his hands set down on his legs, each of his long fingers trembled into his kneecaps. Please, you have to understand - "I understand, Walter." Each time he said his reincarnate's name, he could feel a quake in his chest. A fear that was not his own. "I understand." I'm sorry.
Roman stood on his feet. With a single movement, he gripped the side of his cot with his hands and flipped it onto its side. The sound reverberated all through the abandoned lab, and he ran his fingers through his hair. "Stop it - just stop! Walter, I don't want your apologies. It's done. It's over. You can't fix this. I'm losing parts of my fucking brain," To say the words caused his chest to hitch, and the back of his neck to flush with anger. It seemed like something out of a bad television show - losing his mind, quite literally, piece by piece, and there was nothing he could do about it.
"My brain isn't floating in some jar. I haven't undergone any procedure, the pieces of my brain are gone!" He shouted, standing with his back to the rest of the room. I understand that, Roman, but you must realize that there are supplements, tests we can run. I've seen it in the - in the television. If I could just get a better focus on the compound... Roman sat down on the exposed edge of the cot. He didn't know what to think, or what to feel. Never had he expected something like this to take place in his life. After losing everything he'd had, now he was starting to lose himself to someone that shouldn't have existed. Walter was destroying his life, bit by bit. Just as things were beginning to look up for the very first time.
Roman held his hands to his face. There was no warning, no sudden inclination of what was to happen next. But in that very moment, Roman let out a deep wail into his palms. There was a tight dryness in his throat, and he could feel warmth down his face, falling in the shape of tears. His back quivered, shaking violently while he rocked on the cot's edge. With a sharp inhale, he slid painfully downward until his body met the underside of the cot. He brought his legs to his chest, curling as tightly as he could manage. Roman had no words left to speak, choking cries into his forearms saying all that he could.
So very sorry, Roman.