Mrr. Feeling restless. Jacob's Ladder has put strange ideas in my head.
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The walls were supposed to be white, but for some reason they were a strange off-gray that looked slick and freshly painted. It made her nauseous to look at them; but the floor was tiled with thin vinyl the color of misery, and the ceiling was hidden beneath too-bright lights. The harsh illumination gave the few wandering patients an even more haggard and skeletal look.

They reached out to her as she walked by, glazed looks in their rheumy eyes. Most of them were old; Alzheimer's patients, and the incredibly frail. People with nowhere else to go and no one else to take care of them. Their minds and voices were thin and hazy and largely unthreatening; but they were sad and far older than they should have been.

Age was simply a matter of perspective, she'd found; being immortal skewed things a bit.

The old ones were the quiet ones, and she could avoid their hands as long as she kept moving. The young ones, though- they were dangerous. They shouldn't have been allowed out of their rooms, with their loud voices and louder thoughts, trapped inside of claustrophobic skulls. If the off-gray hallway weren't so crowded with uncomfortable chairs and empty gurneys (complete with heavy buckles and leather restraints, part of her mind couldn't help notice) she would have kept to the walls and run, as quickly as possible. As it was, her companion was hard pressed to keep up, long legged though he was.

The inevitable happened- a man (was it a man? how could it be a man?) rocking back and forth, back and forth in a wheel chair grabbed her arm as she went by. His grip was alarmingly strong, skeletal fingers straining and bruising. She looked into his eyes and tried not to wail in horror at the things she heard.

"Something for the pain, lady. You gotta give me something for the pain." the pain give me something pain need want pain help me

She forced herself to keep looking, and keep listening. There wasn't much to see, or hear. "What pain?" Everything she'd ever seen, ever known, ever dreamed- everything- echoed in her voice. You do not know pain.

It was a little scream, startled and afraid, a single harsh shriek. She shook her head and removed his hand from her arm. "There is no pain, here." She kissed him softly on the forehead, and quieted the jumbled shrieking of his mind with a touch.

His eyes followed her as she hurried on. The old ones, the senile ones, they saw it, too, and they reached out with unsteady hands, wanting to be touched. Wanting release from pain. The younger ones shrank back in fear, until they saw the kindness in her eyes. I can't help you all, she wanted to say. All I can do is show you my pain, and you'll see why yours is so insignificant...but that isn't fair to any of us. I can't help you.

Her companion touched her shoulder; cold comfort, in this place. It was enough, though, and his presence filled the hall and surrounded her. They might reach out towards her, but they nearly fell over themselves in their haste to be away from him.

"Not much further."

She ignored the lie. "You're sure he's here?"

"They said he checked himself in three days ago. If he wasn't crazy then, he certainly is now."

"I can't hear him..."

"Too much static. If he's here, we'll find him."

"And bring him home?"

"We'll find him, and bring him home. Where he belongs."

She gripped his hand tightly and closed her eyes. She couldn't close her ears, but it helped, a little. "Good."

something for the pain