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Frank wakes in a haze. There's a needle in his arm and every breath he takes tastes stale and metallic. It's getting hard to tell how many days it's been since something notable has happened. They mostly just keep him in the same dimly lit lab-looking room. He's handcuffed to the arms of a large and surprisingly cushioned chair. At night they lead him back into his small cell, the one across from where the older woman and younger boy had once been.
There's a second identical chair next to his in the lab. Sometimes he and Mikey will be allowed in at the same time. He assumes it means that his friend is no longer being treated with the same caution as before if they're letting them spend time together. Frank doesn't like it, though. Nothing against Mikey, but he's not fun to hang out with when he's mute and all confused from the meds. Frank doesn't get the same effects usually. He assumes Doctor Grace Thompkins is giving him something different.
At the very least he's happy that she seems to have kept her promise about brining him back to life. Whatever it is she's pumping into his veins is giving him a bit more energy each day. He's less worried about eventually rotting in the cushioned chair each day that passes. Doctor Grace is a miracle worker with how she's managed to nurse him back to health over the course of however long he's been in her care.
He would have hated for Mikey to have to find him like that. Not that Mikey would ever notice, he thinks.
Whereas Frank is feeling a little bit better each day, it's obvious Mikey isn't holding up as well. Both of them have a bit more color in their faces lately, something the doctor had been extremely happy to see, but Mikey's eyes are still hollow.
It's usually in the dead way, the infinite stare into the abyss way, but sometimes his eyes are empty because his pupils have eclipsed his irises. He'll stare at the wall or the doctor or the chair or Frank with terrifyingly wide, manic eyes. That's usually when the humming will start again and the doctor will look at him with disappointed eyes as she injects something else into the bag hanging off to the side above his head.
The humming is getting a little quieter each time, and the episodes are starting to happen less and less often.
Doctor Grace Thompkins carries a single clipboard with both of her subjects' medical files and notes on it. She carefully notes down how Frank has slowly begun to look at her with reverence rather than fear. She's really only giving him glucose and saline, but he's beginning to regard her as some kind of magic healer. It's also where she keeps track of the various different amounts of uppers and downers she's been giving Michael. She's convinced there must be some perfect ratio that will counteract his grim, dead effect without pushing him too far the other way and causing the terrible humming and sporadic, jerky movements.
She passes her sister in the hallway often. They don't talk. Since Gemma's been gone, she only really talks to report her findings to the Clerk or any other official that comes asking. She knows that Gabrielle used to consider her a suck up, but at least she's better than Grace. Truthfully, she's known she was going to win ever since Gemma was killed. She never really considered Gabrielle or Georgia to be her competition. The former was always too rash, too angry with her subjects for her partnership with Frank to have ever worked out. And Georgia…
They're complete opposites, really. Georgia is the oldest, and she's been disillusioned and tired since before their competition even began. She might be the best doctor, but His Immortality requires more than that. Grace, meanwhile, has always been the youngest of the four of them, and that's always given her something to prove. She's spent the first few weeks simply observing Michael while the rest of her sisters had gotten hands on immediately. When he did start to require a more hands-on approach, though, she was quick to adapt. Well aware of his patterns and thoughts following her long observation period, she was quick to steal Gemma's idea to break his spirit. But she did not draw it out over a long period of time like her sister had done with Raymond. She had struck fast and gotten Michael back in line in with single evening of nonintensive surgery. And then she stole Georgia's method of attempting to get her subject to side with her by making it clear that she and Michael would have to work together if they both wanted to survive. She knows she's not the best doctor, but she's convinced she'll win the competition nonetheless.
Georgia thinks the same about herself. She can't imagine that this affair could ever end with Grace beating her. Gemma maybe, but not Grace. Her youngest sister is far too kind, too blinded by her loyalty to ever truly prevail. The regime may punish rebellion, but someone needs to be the one to step outside of the box eventually.
She passes her sister in the hall, scoffs at her over-eager skittering, before heading back to her own patients.
She's not dumb enough to attempt to keep them in the same room. She goes to Gerard's cell first.
They're sat up in bed with the Gentleman doll propped up against their stomach. She can't quite make out what it is they're whispering to the toy, but it doesn't matter to her. She's long accepted the doll's importance to the vocalist, especially after the last show's disastrous performance.
She knocks lightly on the wall. Gerard's back straightens at the sight of her, and they readjust the Gentleman so that they're both facing her.
"Doctor!" Gerard says with a childish smile, "look who's finally back! He's been talking about you!" They wave the doll out towards her and she does her best to smile at the horrid little thing.
"That's wonderful," she mutters. "But how are you feeling recently? I know last show didn't go according to plan, so I wanted to check in."
"I'm good. We've been going over the lyrics together like you asked."
"That's wonderful to hear, and I'm glad the Gentleman is finally back and able to help you! I had to pull quite a few strings to get him back this early, but it was worth it. I don't know if he's told you, but we're old friends, he and I. In fact, any friend of his is a friend of mine, you know." Gerard has always been incredibly easy to work with, but she has no problems pushing them a little bit farther now that the stakes have been raised. The last thing she needs is an incident like what happened to Gemma.
"Oh, that's wonderful to hear!"
"Yes, and it makes me happy to see him getting along with you so well. That being said, I just wanted to check in and make sure you were working. I'll let you two get back to it." She starts to walk away and the whispering begins again her wake.
"She's lying again, Mama. She's the one that took me away in the first place. Are you ready to save everyone now?"
Ray is the same as he always is when she goes to check on him next. He's sitting on his thin cot with his back turned towards the corner, staring out past the bars with blank eyes.
She checks his chart where it's hanging on the wall next to the door. He was given food earlier, but he refused to collect it from the slot under the bars until the soldiers had left the hall. It's textbook paranoia, really. He won't move or talk if there's anyone around to perceive it. He's obviously scared of being killed for his actions. Georgia assumes his previous doctor's messy death plays a part. Truth be told, she had been afraid of inheriting a faulty subject following Gemma's death, but it's undeniable that his newfound fear has made him an easier patient.
He continues to stare past her with empty eyes as she unlocks the door and takes a handful of careful steps towards him. "I'm here to check your vitals," she explains pointlessly. They've been here dozens of times already since he's gone into her care.
One of the first things she had done was get him started on a strong medication regiment. She's not attempting to fix the obvious paranoia or depression, but she is determined to at least control the rest of his sanity. It's clear she's too late to do much about the vocalist's overactive imagination, but she can't deal with two insane patients at the same time, not if she wants to win.
She sees her sister again when she's heading to the cafeteria for dinner. They don't say anything as they stand next to each other in the line, nor when they both sit across from each other at a table near one of the windows. The other two seats go unfilled. The guards don't like either of them much.
Grace finishes her meal first and leaves shortly after. She goes back to her lab where Mikey is still slumped over in his designated chair. He looks at her with plain, unusually observant eyes, but there's no hint of rebellion in his face. He just looks… tired. She carefully unhooks him from the IV bag and various monitors before gesturing for the guards to bring him back to his cell.
The guard doesn't need to carry him, which is rare. He walks down the dark, winding hallways like a ghost. He stands outside his cell patiently while the guard unclips the correct key from his belt, and then he goes in willingly. It's strange, how silent he is. Most of his care team has grown accustomed to the haunted wailing that seems to follow him. He sits down on the bed robotically.
The guard starts back down the hallway towards his usual outpost outside of Doctor Grace's lab. He passes by another pair guards in his way back. One of them is pushing the vocalist down the halls on a vertical cart while the other dangles some kind of doll out in front of them. There's an excited, childish giggle that echos around the halls in the group's wake.
The smaller guitarist is back in the lab when the guard finally makes it back.
"Will you take a seat in the chair for me?" The doctor asks in her usual kind voice.
"Of course," the guitarist says. The guard watches him sit down eagerly, looking up at the doctor with wide eyes.
"Arm," she commands, and he places his arm palm up on the armrest. She's quick to secure a small tube into the port that's dangling from the catheter that's been placed securely on the inside of his arm. "Good job," she praises emptily.
"Thank you, Doctor Grace," he says back earnestly.
It takes about an hour and a half for the bag dangling above his head to empty completely, but the doctor only stays for the first thirty minutes or so. She gives the guitarist strict instructions to listen to the guards while she's gone and he nods along intently.
Some kind of nurse comes in to draw a small vial of blood and unclip him from the IV. One of his guards watches over the whole affair before escorting him back to his room for the night. He goes willingly, even thanks the other man as he lays down on the small cot in the corner.
This guard, too, comes across the vocalist and their pair of escorts on the way back. The vocalist is just barely conscious as they're wheeled out of Doctor Georgia's observation room. Their head dangles loosely from where their neck is tied tight to the handle of the cart. The guard that had previously been dangling the doll in front of them now carries it lazily under one arm.
The vocalist has to be placed in their bed, and the doll is thrown on top of their limp form carelessly. The two escorts leave for the night.
"You're running out of time, Mama. The others need you. You need to do something. Have you realized? Have you realized what you need to do? What the others need you to do?"
"I have to burn it down," a hoarse voice whispers as soon as the guards are out of earshot, "just like before."
"Yeah, Mama, you have to save everyone."