PCs: ERHARD

[chaoscontrol]

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WEEK 5

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SATURDAY AFTER TRIAL

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[After uh... all... that... including trying to help Watanuki after he took Wheatley's death, Shadow will go on the hunt through the mansion for Erhard. He even summons Terios so they can cover more ground at once.]

Where are you, Doctor...

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[Erhard really isn't hard to find. Once they were released from the ballroom, he went straight to Sherlock's room, and then less than ten minutes later vanished into his own room and locked the door. He won't respond to any knocking.

He's curled up on his side on the bed, clutching Sherlock's gloves in one hand and the letter marked for him in the other. His eyes aren't emotionless anymore, but his thousand-yard stare isn't normal, either.]

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[Terios is the one who tracks down Erhard by his scent, and he scratches and whines insistently at the door. When it becomes clear that no amount of sad puppy noises will work, the wolf vanishes into golden flame.

And then, with a voip, Shadow appears in Erhard's room. It's not something he would normally do, invading someone's privacy like this... but he needs to make sure he talks to Erhard before he does something dumb]

Doctor. I'm sorry to disturb you. But I have to tell you something.

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[Erhard doesn't move. He's still alive and breathing, even conscious, but he's only staring at the letter.]

... I'm tired, Shadow.

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[Shadow's voice is even, and surprisingly gentle] I know you are. I know you're exhausted, and upset. And that's why you probably missed something important today.

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... it doesn't matter anymore. I'm done with this whole damned Game. I... if I'd just....

[This isn't the hollow revenant of the trial hall. This is a grieving human man who doesn't understand how to cope with that grief.]

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[such grief... such mourning. And for what reason? Shadow can barely take it, but he has to choose his words carefully.]

Doctor. Erhard. Listen to me. Did you at any point today see Watanuki's chest? Where Holmes' command seals are?

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No. I was staring at Anon the entire time. I knew he did it.

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Then I will tell you what you did not see--

Two of the command seals were in their dark "used" state. One still remains.

[he pauses. Again, choosing his words carefully]

.... I wonder... what happens to the command seals when a Servant dies before they're all used? Since the contract is over... wouldn't they disappear?

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.....

[Erhard sits up partway, enough that Shadow can see his bloodshot, puffy eyes past the messy fringe of his hair. He's been crying where no one can see it.]

Sherlock Holmes is dead. I saw his body.

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His body, yes.

... Doctor. Are you aware of how the Foundation revives those of us from 6350?

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[For all that Erhard has been doing medical studies on some of the other SCPs, he's avoided reading too much about 6350 and its instances. Every time he's tried, he starts to dissociate. So he silently shakes his head.]

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Souls, Doctor. Sparks, essence, spirits, whatever you wish to call it. The force that animates the body. There are people out there who can capture that force and keep it. And then... all that is needed is a vessel.

The Foundation has both people who can hold on to souls and a way to produce new vessels. That is how they can revive us again and again.

I know it's hard to believe. Souls, ghosts, reviving the dead? But is it any more far-fetched than a machine that pulls in people from other worlds? Worlds that are fictional elsewhere?

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... I may be a doctor, but I believe in the existence of the soul, yes. But neither of the witches are allowed to bring back the dead. I don't know what she did with Natsuno, but... that can't be him. If it was, then where are all the others who died? Where's Sherlock?

[He's squeezing the detective's gloves in his hand.]

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[Shadow looks so conflicted. Like he desperately wants to say something, but can't.]

Doctor... I can't... I'm not allowed to say. But... Watanuki... he takes the pain of everyone's deaths each week for a reason.

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Shadow, even... even if he can bring everyone back, do you really think it will happen before someone retaliates against me for what I did? Or that we won't make a huge mistake and end up with the Watanuki I saw in my vision? There's so many things that can go wrong, we're going on five weeks into this mess, and we still can't effectively solve anything. It's going to fall apart, no matter what we do.

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I won't let them hurt you. I'll keep Terios manifested and by your side all week if I have to. I feel like we're close... Please. Just hold on a little longer!

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....

[Erhard presses the gloves and the letter to his face, shaking against the threat of fresh tears.]

I just want to be with Sherlock.

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Please, Erhard. Don't do anything stupid. Holmes wouldn't want that for you and you know that. I promise you, you will see him again.

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... I don't know how much longer... I can hold on....

[He took a life. Deserving or not, his hands are stained. He lost the innocence he'd only just discovered.

And he doesn't regret it one bit.]

You saw what I did.

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... Everyone has their breaking points, Doctor. Everyone.

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And if I hadn't... if I'd just stayed apart from everyone, like I planned....

[He remembers the warmth of Sherlock's hand in his, the sound of sleeping breaths next to his on the pillow, and he has to choke back a sob.]

It hurts.

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[Shadow pauses, then summons Terios again. The wolf jumps up on Erhard's bed and lays his head in his lap]

Then he might still be dead anyway, and you would have never felt those wonderful warm feelings. Pain... is the price we pay for happiness.

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[Erhard sets down the letter and rests that hand on Terios's head, eventually petting the wolf gently. It helps to blunt the force of his grief.]

... did he really leave my room to protect me? Was that part of her fantasy true?

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[The wolf has very soft fur, even if he does smell a little like motor oil...]

That does sound like something he would do.

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[Erhard doesn't mind, it's not like he can smell much anyway with his nose and sinuses clogged from all the crying.]

... he'll hate me for giving in to my own darkness. Riku... everyone warned me, but I didn't... I couldn't....

[So much for wolf-petting easing his mind. The tears start rolling unheeded down his face again. He can't help it, the thought of Sherlock turning away from him in scorn at the blood on his hands is too much.]

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[Shadow grabs the box of tissues from nearby and places them on the bed next to Erhard. Terios whines and nuzzles Erhard more]

It's in the past, now, Doctor. You can't change what has already come to pass. All you can do is learn from it, and move forward.

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I'm a killer now. I had the right, but I should've let Emi do it....

[He takes a tissue and blots his eyes with one hand, rubbing Terios's head with the other.]

I think I'm stuck in a mental feedback loop. Every time I try to let go, a part of me says I don't deserve it. It... sounds like my birth parents' voices.

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This game... is not exactly ideal circumstances. Or normal, by any means.

[Shadow sits on the edge of the bed, looking down]

I tried to blow up the planet. I succeeded in blowing up the moon and flooding several coastal cities. The people back home... they still forgave me. Even though I didn't deserve it -- how could anything I do, even saving the world, make up for it?

[he looks up at the ceiling]

I still don't have the answers. I don't know if I ever will. But I don't think you'd ever kill anyone were it not for the construct of this game.

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Would you forgive me? Do you think Sherlock would forgive me?

[He stares down at the hand resting on Terios's head. He swears he can see the blood that isn't really there.]

If I live through this, will I ever recover? I've never felt like this before, I don't even recognize myself anymore. I've dissociated thinking about how I'm just an instance of 6350, usually only for a few minutes but once for over an hour. This on top of it? I'm afraid I'm losing my mind.

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I already forgave you, Doctor.

[though that does a concern for Shadow]

... Dissociate? Like having an out of body experience? Or unreality? [he pauses] I don't believe that being from a "fictional" universe makes us fake. One day.... One day I'm going to find a world where the Foundation is fictional.

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Derealization, I suppose... like this is all just a dream, that I'm a real person in a cell at Resurgam, dreaming about murders and the Foundation. There's an actual diagnosis of derealization/depersonalization disorder in the DSM-5, it's a neurosis. It's... I guess I'm just having difficulty processing the fact that someone created me specifically to suffer repeated traumas.

[Yeah, that's kind of a kick in the ass.]