#perspective play

In the hallway, Johan struggled to fight against the two men pulling him back. He tried to hit them off, tried to run, he tried to scream, but a gag was stuffed into his mouth, and the butt of a revolver smacked against the back of his head,

once, dazing him,

twice, stunning him,

thrice, and it all went black.

Joey fought against the haze in his mind, hearing voices, voices he could not process.

However, we are not Johan, and therefore, these voices can be understood.

“Good thing the hospital isn't too far,” Fleishcher huffed, dragging Joey backwards. The lanky man groaned in his confusion. Disney nodded with a scowl; “It’s also a good thing we planned this, just in case.”

Fleishcher flagged a cab, even as the commotion within the courthouse grew exponentially.

“Please, he’s hurt, get us to the hospital straight away,” Disney spoke in a masked voice, pulling Joey and Fleishcher into the car with him. Henry ran out of the courthouse, his lab coat flapping behind him, and he cursed as they zoomed away. Disney smirked, and muttered to Fleishcher. “No problems from here on out - once he can’t do what they expect him to, this one will be at a loss, for good. We’re in the clear. By the way, after this, I don’t expect to work with you again.”

“Agreed,” Fleishcher nodded. Joey tried to raise his head, unable to see anything but the blackness in his darkened eyes. “Our sleeping beauty is trying to wake, aw.”

“He doesn’t look anything like I expected,” Disney opined, putting a hand onto Joey’s face to turn and inspect it better. “I’m surprised that one of… his type was able to get up so high. No wonder he wore a mask. And what is he, Mexican?”

“I’m pretty sure that was stated in court,” Fleishcher interjected. Disney hummed, and neither spoke, until Fleishcher recontinued in a low tone. “Do you think that Stein fellow is after us?”

“Undoubtedly,” Disney leaned back with a grin. “But it’s not like he’s gonna catch us or figure out where we’re going.”

Henry scanned the area, cursing, wishing the police would do a better job of looking for the cab, and remembered the jacket that Bertrum had been torn off of Disney. There must be a clue in it! There has to be! There absolutely has to be… there must be!

He ran as fast as he could, feeling the cold breath of a demon on his neck, dodging other dashing wandering souls, ducking and jumping around them, and snatched the forgotten coat from off the ground. He searched the pockets hastily, and found, crumpled in the breast pocket, a small brochure. It was from the very hospital he worked at, and his eyes narrowed as he glanced over it. His eyes widened, and the paper drifted to the ground, the man already running as fast as he could to get a cab or

“Bertrum!” Henry gasped, bumping into the panicking greek. “I know where he is, I need to get to the hospital!”

“The hospital?” Bertrum’s eyebrows shot up, Lacie stepping back in surprise as well, and she asked, “Why would they take him there?!”

“Walter Jackson Freeman,” Henry wheezed in explanation. The name had no meaning to Lacie, but to Bertrum, he understood immediately. He grabbed Henry by his arm and ran him to his car, and he called to the befuddled mechanic, “I’ll see you at home, Lacie!”

Bertrum speed through the streets, and even so, Henry had a sneaking suspicion that they got to the hospital sooner than they should have, not that he was ungrateful for it. Time was of the utmost importance, and the clock seemed to tick faster and faster. Both of them ran out of the car, and dashed into the hospital.

“Where is he?” Bertrum panted as Henry dashed before him. “Slow down, for Zeus’ sake! Actually, don’t slow down! Speed up, I’ll catch up to you! Go!”

And so Henry did, running as fast as he could, praying he would not be too

“We’re late,” Disney hissed to Fleishcher. Joey was in a wheelchair, fisherman’s thread digging into his wrists to restrain him, his head sunk against his chest, pounding with the blows he had received. A small groan of exhaustion escaped him. “But no matter. Mr. Drew here has a specially made appointment.”

“What does this thing do again? A leucotomy?” Fleishcher asked, briskly walking alongside his fiendish partner. “What good will that do for us, exactly?”

“If the head doesn’t function fully, the body will collapse,” Disney explained. “And that applies to a business as well. Without Drew able to function, well, the whole studio will fall apart. And then free sailing from here on out.”

“L-Leucotomy…?” Johan mumbled, blinking in the bright hospital light. “A… a l-lobotomy?”

“Someone’s finally putting the pieces together, hm?” Disney chuckled, grinning at the still dazed chicano. Joey squinted in the harsh lighting. “Oh, don’t worry about it. When it’s over, you won’t be able to have an opinion on it, anyways.”

“What!?” Johan shrieked, the situation becoming clear to him. “No! No! Help! Help! Hel-MMPH!”

Joey hyperventilated against Fleishcher’s hand pressing to his mouth. He tried to scream around it, but found the gag shoved into his mouth and tied in place, again. Tears started to trickle from his eyes.

“Shh, shh, it’ll all be over soon…” they entered a presentation hall. The glint of the two ice pick rods burned into Joey’s eyes, as did all the electrical equipment. Despair flooded his system, drowning every hope away. “It’ll all be over soon….”

Henry’s polished shoes left skid marks as he ran down, down, down, jumping over the stair rail to skip some steps and shave some seconds, just a few. He ran as fast as he could, faster than when he ran from the ink, feeling the cold air of the demon on the nape of his neck, and yet, he never ran so fast, never ran so fast in his life, in any of his lives, desperate to save the one person that understood him, that knew him inside and out, whose smile he never wanted to lose, who would go through

“A lobotomy is a very delicate procedure,” Mr. Freeman spoke in a showman’s voice to the amassed crowd. “It calms the mind. It relaxes the body. It frees those that go through it into a sense of tranquility, assuring them that all is right in the world - and so it is.”

Johan’s head was held back, yet there was no need: he was paralyzed by the sight of the “ice picks” that would be used to bore into a skull, his skull. The way the so called doctor waved them around without any care as to the result, flashing in the far too bright light. He was chained once more, tightly bound to the board. Johan scanned the crowd with his eyes, praying to see someone that might help him, but found that they were all mesmerized by Freeman’s performance. Joey felt his hair being brushed back, and it felt soothing, and he tried to relax into it. The gag would come out, it had to, it must, and he would be able to cry for help. But what if it was deflected as insanity? What if no one cared? Tears trickled from the corners of his eyes.

“We shall now anesthetize the patient with electrotherapy,” Freeman continued, peering over Joey. “As you can see, this young man has been brought on account of his sexual preference - the lobotomy procedure is very powerful, and many have used it to correct this.”

Johan wanted to slap him. How dare he? He was slim, he was tall, he was gay, and he was proud of it!

“Please, shock the patient,” the psychologist instructed his assistant, who nodded, and pressed the two electrodes to the sides of Joey’s head, and god! The pain! It laced through his body, and he screamed against the gag stuffed in his mouth. His head, had it not been held back ever so gently, would have thrashed from side to side to avoid the pain. His whole body convulsed. His hair was brushed back again, and it tingled and stung like hundreds of swarming mosquitoes. “And now, my assistant will cut the patient’s hair until-”

“Stop!”

The doors slammed into the walls, breaking indents into them, bits of ceiling falling. Henry’s shoes clacked against the floors as he ran towards the stage.

“There’s been a confounding mistake!” he shouted, and Freeman made his assistant put down the razor he held. He jumped down the stage to greet Henry. “Well, I’ll say! Whatever is the matter, doctor?”

“That man is not a patient, he’s Joey Drew!” Henry panted, hands on his knees, looking up at the other doctor. His eyes widened. “He’s been kidnapped from the courthouse by….”

Henry whipped around and pointed at the two men attempting to escape from the theater room.

“Disney and Fleishcher!”

The two businessmen looked at each other and then attempted to bolt, but immediately bumped into Bertrum, who grabbed them both by their ears.

Henry ran to Joey as the police came in to sort everything out, Freeman at his heels. Henry held Johan’s unconscious head in his hands, tears burning in his eyes.

“Did you…?” he asked Freeman when the man caught up. Freeman put a hand on Henry’s shoulder and shook his head. “W-why is he….?”

“Seems like the shock was too much for him,” Freeman scratched his head. “That’s odd, normally those that go through a transorbital lobotomy are able to respond even as the treatment is occuring.”

“Good thing we’re already in a hospital,” Henry muttered, taking the abandoned razor and cutting at the wire tying Joey down to the wheelchair. He and Freeman exchanged a few words, and he ended up chatting with the man as he wheeled Joey to a room he knew was always available, writing in his vitals and reason for being in the hospital (Shock, both emotional and physical). Henry and Freeman shared a cup of tea as they spoke together. Then, Freeman shook his watch out of his sleeve, bid Henry a goodbye, and left. Henry’s hands ran through Joey’s hair, and he was so grateful that it was still there for him to do so. Joey’s eyes fluttered open at the warm touch. Henry’s smile felt like it would tear his cheeks, and small tears filmed over his eyes. “Hello, honeybee.”

“Hen… ry?” Joey croaked, his throat raw. He managed to see Henry clearly after blinking a few times, and then smiled back at him. “H-hello, doctor.”

“How are you feeling?” Henry asked, squeezing his hand. “Need anything?”

“I feel… fine…” Johan admitted, though he seemed worried. “I need to know if th-they… you know… went through with i-it?”

“No, I got there just in time,” Henry told him. “You know, I heard that he was going to lobotomize you under the word that you’re gay.”

“Oh, I am!” Joey proudly stated, grinning. “Very much so!”

“Well, I am as well,” Henry chuckled, eyes crinkling. “Perhaps more than you!”

“Excuse me my good sir!” he cried out. “You were the one married to a young Eleanor, and then to a Diane, weren’t you?”

“That may be so,” Henry hummed, tapping his chin, “But now….”

His hand came to rest on Johan’s. His blue eyes looked right into red ones, glistening and gleaming with love and genteelity.

“But now what?” the dark man smiled dazzlingly, stealing Henry’s breath away with his sheer beauty. A princeling, that is what Joey was. One of the forgotten fair folk. His eyelashes batted in a playful manner. “Doesn’t change the fact you are certainly less gay than I!”

“Doesn’t it, now?” Henry grinned, climbing onto the white hospital bed, nuzzling against the side of Johan’s chin, making the lanky man laugh and wriggle under his weight. Henry pressed little kisses to the other’s collarbone, making him burst out into a fit of giggles. Henry hugged him tightly, slipping under the blanket to garner the warmth from his beloved. He smiled at Joey, who smiled back sadly, hand coming to rest on Henry’s cheek, wiping away Henry’s stray tears as he said to him in his sonorous and musical voice, “Don’t cry, mi amor! It’s all ok, it’s fine.”