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vincess-princess · 14 days

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we, the psychos

ch. 4

Word count: 2253 Warnings: - A/N: i always knew this fic is destined to be continued. the only question was when.

“You are a fool, Sixx,” Mick said tiredly as he sat down onto the bed where Nikki lay. “Plain and simple.”

“I know,” Nikki sighed, looking down at his bandaged legs and his right hand that had acquired three brand new stitches. It won’t be soon until he can squeeze his fist properly. “I just… you know how it goes. The first cut, you get scared. And then it’s down the emotional rollercoaster. Have you ever been on a rollercoaster, Mick?”

“Barely heard about it,” Mick said. “Is that something Russian-related?”

“Me neither. I’d like to take a ride on there. You’re up in the air – and then you’re falling, but it’s safe falling, it won’t hurt you. Because every time I fall, I end up in the med wing.” He waved at his bandaged legs. “And yeah, I think it’s something Russian-related. Not sure how. Could you get me a book here, Mick?”

“You know Dr. Duren won’t allow that,” Mick shook his head. “He’s already mad at you, I think. It’s been weeks since your last relapse – you made progress, and now this.”

“Oh, don’t you chastise me too!” Nikki rolled his eyes. “I couldn’t, okay? I couldn’t. I was thinking. And it always ends bad.”

“About what?”

Nikki turned away from him and said nothing.

“About what, Nikki?” Mick stretched out his hand, gripped Nikki’s chin and turned his face towards himself to look him in the eyes. Then realization dawned on him.

”Don’t say it’s that Wharton bastard!” he groaned. “You said it was over! You were done! What did he do to you? What did he say?”

Nikki looked away, lips sealed tight, afraid Mick will feel the bitterness filling his mouth.

“You quarreled?” Mick insisted, putting one hand on Nikki’s thigh and squeezing it slightly, making him wince. “What else that was now?”

Nikki swallowed forcefully. He wished nothing of his affair with Vince leaked to the rest of the asylum, but Wharton liked to brag, sometimes overlooking basic safety measures. He could be sure Mick wouldn’t tell anyone, but how long will it be before other patients or, God forbid, nurses suspect something?

“What was that, Nikki?” Mick shook his leg. “You wanna stay silent and keep wallowing in your misery or figure out what to do together?”

“Definitely the second,” Nikki curved his mouth into a bitter smile. “My, well, situation with Vin- with Wharton is none of your business. I appreciate the concern, though.”

“Oh no, that’s where you’re wrong,” Mick looked so indignant Nikki had to hold back a laugh. He’d never seen old man redden as much. “It is exactly my business, and you know why? Because I don’t wanna go to your funeral, and don’t you even hope I waste my money on a wreath for you. You get me?”

“Yeah, yeah. The usual threats.”

“You damn better believe them!” Mick rose from his chair and crossed the room, standing in front of a barred window. “You don’t wanna tell me anything – fine. I’ll find out myself. I heard Wharton is in a padded cell now, but once he’s out you bet I’m gonna ask him. And he ain’t gonna get rid of me that easy.”

Oh god. Mick considered it above himself to speak to Vince, but once he set up on something he was unstoppable. Nikki couldn’t allow him to intervene in their relationship.

“I’ll speak to him myself,” Nikki said hurriedly. “We have some things to resolve. And them I’m gonna be good. I promise.”

Mick smiled. “Now you’re talking different.” Damn manipulator. He knew how to force Nikki to do what he didn’t want to do, and used it constantly. For Nikki’s sake, of course, but what Nikki needed and what Mick thought Nikki needed were vastly different things. “You do that right when he gets out, and tell me how it went later.”

“Sure, sure.” Whatever Vince was gonna say was definitely not what Mick would wanna hear. Nikki needed to invent some palatable lie after their talk.

“Alright.” Mick turned to Nikki. “I’m gonna work the med wing for one more week. You need to come for bandaging again in two days, then in a week we’ll be removing stitches if everything goes well. After that you won’t have any allies here anymore, and the local nurses don’t really bother caring for self-harmers like you. So you better keep your hands to yourself. Got me?”

“I appreciate everything you did for me, Mick.”

“Sure you do! Now, I’ve still got a couple patients to attend. Off you go.”

“Thanks again.”

“Yeah, don’t mention it.”

Walking was painful – the bandages grinded on stitches and irritated them. Maybe it would be better to take them off altogether – when the wounds would close enough to not bleed through his pants randomly. Which they yet haven’t.

A nurse escorted Nikki to his ward. He used to share it, but his cellmates didn’t like his pacing and talking when manic, so he was transferred. Now he almost missed those manic spells – at least he was feeling great about himself during them. But the last one was seven months ago, and since then it’s only been deeper and deeper into the darkness.

On the other hand, he was manic when he and Vince decided to hook up the first time. Weren’t for that, he’d never approach the sex-obsessed narcissistic ticking bomb that Vince was. Nikki knew him better now, and that description fit even more.

He stayed in his cell until lunch, when Dr. Duren was to see him. It was boring inside, and the stitches began to itch underneath the bandages. Nikki knew better than to scratch them with his nails, but it was extremely hard to keep his hands away. The couple hours he had to wait seemed an eternity.

Hudson came to escort him.

“Yeah, man, you’re in deep,” he told Nikki right off the bat. “Dr. Duren is very disappointed.”

“Thanks, that’s very encouraging,” Nikki muttered. “What’s it gonna be?”

“No idea.” Hudson shrugged. “C’mon. He’s already pissed today. Heard what Wharton did?”

God, what was it again?

“No, I wasn’t at breakfast, remember?”

“Oh, if I’m gonna remember where all of you bastards were and when I’ll have no memory left for my stuff.” Hudson waited until Nikki shuffled out of his ward and closed the door. Together they headed down the hall. “He got in a fight! Again! And that’s right after being released from the padded cell! The fucking audacity!”

Nikki’s heart skipped a bit. “He sure has enough of that. Who was the sorry fellow?”

“The newbie. You probably haven’t seen him yet. Looked feeble, but did pack Wharton a punch.”

Was that the laughing guy? Nikki didn’t dwell on it much, though. Vince’s fate was much more interesting to him.

“And what of him?”

“He’s back to his ward. Duff said it’s real fancy, with curtains and carpet and all. Who even is that guy?”

“No, I mean Wharton.”

“Oh, him? Probably back to the padded cell. Simmons talked some about a cold shower too. Maybe that will bring him back to his senses.”

Vince underwent such “therapy” at least on a monthly basis, and it kept him relatively docile for a couple weeks after. So docile that he didn’t even want to fuck, which was always alarming. Nikki didn’t like him docile. That wasn’t what he liked him for.

“Don’t you think it just makes him worse? Being treated like that?”

Hudson looked at Nikki like he was cra- oh, right.

“C’mon, Feranna. You’re a smart guy. You should understand that some patients simply do not understand humane approach. It’s the nature of their illness. They only respect those that can show who calls the shots here. And people who treat them well – they just use them.”

Nikki knew that, yes. But Vince wasn’t like that. Or rather, he was, usually. But not with Nikki.

Or maybe Nikki was just fooling himself as usual, and Wharton just used him like Hudson said. Who knows.

Nikki pushed the thought in the back of his mind. He had other problems now. They stood in front of Dr. Duren’s door.

“I’m fucked?” Nikki half-asked Hudson.

“Thoroughly,” the nurse said honestly. “Well, in you go. I’ll wait here to escort you to the canteen afterwards.”

Nikki nodded and knocked on the door. His hand slightly shook, and he clenched it into a fist.

“Come in,” he heard. Nikki inhaled and walked in.

***

It had rained, and the garden looked especially unappealing this cold autumn day. What month was it, October? It hadn’t snowed yet, but it was already getting dark before dinner. Yeah, probably mid-October.

Mick had lost count of days long ago. It was all approximate now: snow fell first in mid-November and melted in April, the first birdsong came in March (Mick could hear it because he usually wasn’t sleeping in early morning), the sun rose before breakfast starting early May. His whole world was based on the asylum routine. It was not bad, really. Brought predictability into life. And Mick preferred to know what would happen in the foreseeable future.

Except sometimes it was disrupted. A patient would leave – some were cured and discharged, some died. The first case, those didn’t usually stay long at the asylum anyway so Mick didn’t really care. The core of the asylum population remained relatively the same for the last couple years – the sickest of the sickest, those that wouldn’t survive on their own or those that would make it hard for everyone else in the outside world. Some of them spent years in the asylum. For them, cure was considered unattainable and the only way out was death.

Mick was one of them – not the worst, though. Staff knew he was one of the calmest, most reasonable ones and were rather lax with him. Doesn’t hurt himself or others? Doesn’t shit his pants or throws plates at others in the canteen? Great patient, no special attention needed.

That’s why no one bat an eye when he wandered away from the main group that was cleaning up the yard from the fallen leaves. Nurse McKagan cast an occasional look in his direction, but that was it.

Now nurse McKagan was occupied talking with a patient. Mick hadn’t seen him here before; more than that, he wasn’t wearing an asylum robe, but rather fancy though simple trousers, an unbuttoned coat hanging loosely off his bony shoulders and a shirt with puffy sleeves underneath it. The sleeves looked ridiculous, but the guy managed to pull it off. He was young, way too young to be here, though Wharton was probably his age. He belonged here as much as a flower belonged on a heap of cow shit.

He was probably the one that arrived in a carriage at night. Mick hadn’t been at breakfast, but he heard the new guy already got into a fight with Wharton. While Wharton deserved that, it didn’t instill much hope in the new guy. He seemed to have gotten off the hook this time – though not without a bruise on his swelled cheekbone.

Well, he beat Wharton’s ass at least, and the bastard truly needed it.

Mick plucked a lone brown leaf off a branch in front of his face. It was always harder in autumn and winter – now everyone could see through the trees circling the asylum territory, and the feeling of an intent gaze on Mick’s skin intensified when outside. He rubbed the spot, but it didn’t go away. It never went away.

Mick tore the leaf into tiny pieces and watched them float to the ground. When he turned around, he saw McKagan right in front of him. He realised it was McKagan a couple moments later, after he already swung a punch.

McKagan yelped indignantly. He dodged at the last moment, and the fist barely grazed him, but it was probably unpleasant anyway.

“Deal! The fuck you doing!”

“Don’t sneak up on me! You know I can’t handle it!” Mick yelled back and breathed in deep to calm his racing heart.

“Alright, fair. I should’ve called you.” McKagan was the only nurse who could ever admit he was wrong, and patients appreciated him for that. Maybe it was because he hadn’t been at the asylum long – a couple of months at this point. He was too kind for this place. Psychos couldn’t handle kindness.

“What do you want?” Mick tried to sound friendly, to make up for his bout of aggression, but didn’t succeed much. McKagan didn’t take it too close to heart, though.

“I wanted to show Tommy,” – he pointed at the new guy standing a bit aside, eyeing Mick carefully, - “the grounds, but Stanley is sick today, and we don’t have enough staff to look after the main bunch. You’re a rather reasonable fellow, and you know everything here, so I thought you could show him around.”

“Me?” Of course, Mick was on good terms with most of the stuff, but McKagan definitely had too much confidence in him. Mick was a patient for a reason, after all.

“Yes, you.” The nurse smiled. “I’ll tell him not to sneak up on you.”

Well, that could be interesting. The new guy had hardly talked with anyone so far. Everyone must be dying of curiosity. And Mick here got a chance to learn as much about him as possible.

“Alright,” he said. “Will you introduce us?”

#asylum au #motley crue #we the psychos #motley crue fanfiction #motley crue au #nikki sixx #tommy lee #mick mars #duff mckagan #slash #feels good to go back to motley fic man #it's my comfort zone #and while dabbling in original fic is also fun #motley fic just feels so familiar. this is probably the only thing i know how to do well #anyway please tell me if you like this your comments are literally my fuel

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