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[The sudden restriction prompts a scrabbling, desperate struggle. L's doppelganger bucks and kicks against Cesar, attempting to stomp on his feet, dig a sharp elbow into his ribs, anything to get away. But Cesar has a size and weight advantage he doesn't, in addition to leverage to keep him bent and pinned.

He curls his shoulders, but when Cesar yanks his hair his head tilts back easily on his scrawny neck with a sharp cry. He clenches his teeth, clawing at Cesar's hand and attempting to tear it away from his face, but his strength is already flagging; his body knows that it's not a match for Cesar's larger and more powerful frame, and as Cesar starts to succeed in pulling his teeth apart, he makes every effort to jerk his head as much as he's able with his limited mobility. If he can bite, he will, and then/I> how will Cesar sign?]

*Each time he pries his jaw open he either has to let go to bring the pill within range, or L jerks his face out of Cesar's grasp. Each time he does that--well, this method isn't working. Cesar leans closer, putting the pill between his lips and bringing his face close to his captive's. It frees his hands to keep both of them on his face...*

*It's the wrong angle. If L were facing him then maybe spitting the pill like a watermelon seed would work, but he's not, and Cesar swipes the pill from this lips, scowling deeply. He presses the heavy point of an elbow into L's back, deciding to try outlasting him. L can't keep this up forever.*

[L isn't particularly strong in either incarnation, but he moves and twists like a pit viper, striking out and squirming and remaining difficult to hold onto no matter how thoroughly he's pinned down. He knows what the Xanax will do to him; he's seen it in person, after all, hell, he's caused it, and Lazarus' lot isn't one he covets for himself. He wants control, after all, and how the hell can he have it when he's lying prone and unconscious and helpless?

He redoubles his savage efforts, recognizing that he is running out of stamina and that if he's going to get away, it has to be now.

The chain moves behind them, but neither are in a position to see what's going on with the other end of it.]

*His hands and arms are bleeding sluggishly from scratches, and a lucky hit catches him in the side unawares. He breaths out sharply, and more of his weight on the doppelganger turns into dead weight. Normally this would be enough, but all L is looking for is escape, not victory. A second strike catches him near his neck, and the back of L's head rams into his nose, and he's realizing that if he doesn't end this soon, he might be knocked aside just long enough to have to start all of this over again.*

*He already has a grip on L's head. Cesar grabs the doppelganger by the back of his collar and slams both down to the desk's surface, grinding the man's face against it. This needs to stop now.*

[The doppelganger gets a second wind when he realizes that he's making headway. He concentrates more of his focus and energy into the parts of him that are sharp and hard, throwing his head back and feeling it connect with cartilage. He could do this, he could get loose.

Then he gags and chokes as his collar is yanked back, and is being violently slammed into the surface of the desk. He reaches blindly for the menorah, lashing out at Cesar with it... but he's being made to release it with a sharp cry as a new pair of hands bends his forward at the wrist, exploiting a known sensitive area.]

Hold him there.

[Lazarus speech is slurred and monotonous, but he's up, beside them, and working to bind his doppelganger's hands behind his back with the length of chain, securing the winding series of figure-8s with the other handcuff, which he is no longer attached to.]

Edited 2015-04-04 04:55 (UTC)

*Cesar's heart skips several beats, but he keeps his hold. Since when was L awake? What does this look like, with Cesar's body pressed against L's back and his hands fisted to grip him still--*

*--It looked like a struggle, apparently, because L is wasting no time restraining him, and Cesar's not going to question it. He pushes himself away to give L room, but it means having even less control over the doppelganger. He compensates by twisting is head back, wrenching at his hair.*

*The second handcuff's lock clicks loudly. Cesar moves forward and is immediately forced to adjust, keeping his body away from L's grasping hands. Is this going to get any easier? He reaches for the copy's chin again, sparing a glance between L and the pill bottle. Does he understand?*

[Since very, very recently. He's dizzy and unsteady on his feet and seems like he's moving through water, but he did manage to get the handcuff off and is now managing to bind his counterpart and at least assist Cesar with the task. The doppelganger wails in panic and pain at the sudden wrench, shuddering in Cesar's grasp and panting hard.

Lazarus rubs at his eyes. He knows how his own medications work and affect him, and it confirms what he had suspected through all of his strange dreams and near-waking interspersed throughout long periods of blackness.

He understands, and he nods. He reaches for the pill bottle, shaking two into his hand without hesitating and staring wanly at Cesar.]

Keep his head from moving.

[Though his doppel glares at him, with Cesar more able to devote his grip to one task, it's a fairly easy matter for L to pinch his nose, forcing him to open his mouth. He jams the pills between his lips and then staggers slightly, pulling the metal folding chair dazedly forward and sinking into it as he leaves Cesar to hold the furious doppel's mouth shut until he's swallowed or the pills have dissolved.]

Edited 2015-04-04 05:41 (UTC)

*Hold his mouth shut? Cesar's keeping his jaws closed and half-smothering him with a grip that obstructs part of his nose, and he really doesn't seem to care. If the doppelganger's struggles achieve a certain degree of animalistic intensity he'll relent, but for now he's going to stay exactly where he is.*

*Only once he's sure that the copy has swallowed the pills does he finally relent. It happens in stages: first his hand leaves L's face. Then he stops leaning on him. Then he steps back, still holding him by the scruff of his neck.*

*He lets go of even that, stepping back again. It doesn't matter now what the copy does: he doesn't have much time before he'll be out, and they can find him at their leisure.*

[Xanax, especially in such a large dose, is a very fast-acting drug. Though the doppelganger does indeed put up a struggle that could be described very accurately as animalistic, but even after Cesar releases him, he can't put up a fight with his hands bound. Stumbling, the drugs already starting to take effect, he bolts from the room, stumbling initially, uneven footsteps retreating down the hall.

L reaches forward, silently putting the cap back on the pill bottle.]

This can't go on, can it?

[The question is soft, humble, defeated. He recognizes that it has officially become too dangerous for him to personally keep tabs on his meddlesome and vicious doppelganger.]

*Cesar's nose has dribbled blood down to his chin, and his hands tell a similar story. Cesar wipes his mouth, realizes he's just making more of a mess, and then stops.*

{No, it can't.}

*No sugar-coating. With the state they're both in, there's no point. L looks as though a strong breeze could knock him out of his chair, and the despair in his tone is worrying.*

{Are you alright?}

[L glances slowly aside to read the signs, and then his eyes widen; he's noticed, for the first time, that Cesar's bleeding, and he's noticeably alarmed, even if a powerful reaction isn't within his ability to convey.

He stands, tottering but adapting and regaining something like a set of bearings as he goes to the room's small closet and pulls out a simple, clean t-shirt. He pushes it into Cesar's hands.]

There's a bathroom down the hall, and I keep a first-aid kit there. Come on... I'll help you clean up.

[Staying close to the walls to steady himself, he starts toward the door, trusting Cesar to follow.]

*Cesar hesitates at first, turning the shirt around in his hands. Then he blots his hands on it, and pinches his nose to catch any further blood. It keeps his hands busy and prevents him from signing, but the fact that he follows is answer enough.*

*He's really not liking the way L is tottering on his feet. With both hands wrapped up in the shirt and an air of distance, Cesar somehow manages to hover from a distance, eyes watching dully for signs of an actual impending fall.*

[L moves like someone who's dizzy and can't quite feel his feet. He picks his way along the hallway, hands grasping along the wall to keep him steady and moving in a straight line, and he stays up. The bathroom isn't far, just a few doors down, and he pushes open the door and flicks on the light. Fortunately, his doppel didn't come here, so they're alone.

The fixtures are old and it's slightly drafty, with a window propped open on the opposite wall. There's a row of sinks and a cupboards for linens and medicine, and he swings one of these open and removes a very high-quality and complete first-aid kit and several washcloths, setting them on the nearby counter as he goes to the sink and splashes his face with cold water, rubbing vigorously, doing whatever he can to shake the lingering effects of the drugs.

Still dripping, he beckons Cesar over, wetting a washcloth with warmer water and wringing it out.]

Edited 2015-04-04 06:47 (UTC)

*Cesar can see himself in the mirror, now, and he's more of a mess than he realized. Dark spots pepper his shirt below his face, and his hands are covered in bright red lines that have dripped and smeared, making it look significantly worse than it really is.*

*L beckons him over with a washcloth. Cesar nods and steps close, reaching for it automatically. He knows L might want to scrub his face, but attempts to establish his own independence have become automatic over the last two weeks, and it occurs to him too late that L isn't going to insist, and that he won't get a second chance to consider.*

[Cesar does look pretty alarming, and whether it's because he's still too doped up on anti-anxiety drugs to get worked up or because he's trying to remain calm for the other man's sake, Lazarus is doing a fairly good job composing himself. When Cesar's nearby, he automatically starts raising the washcloth toward his face, but then the towel's being pulled from his grasp, leaving him empty-handed.

No matter. He reaches for a second towel, running it under the warm water until it's saturated and beginning to wring out that one too, glancing aside as Cesar starts to clean himself off.]

I wasn't... really there, so I don't know, but... my impression is that you might have saved my life a little while ago. Thank you for that.

{It was nothing.}

*No, it wasn't, but his gut clenches at the memory of L's feeble struggles, and it occurs to him that there's a frantic, jibbering creature in his ribcage that's just waiting for the reality of the situation to sink in before it rears its ugly head.*

*He plans to delay this as long as possible. He's almost done scrubbing his hands with adrenaline-sharp motions, and it occurs to him that if he didn't have this, they'd be shaking.*

{Are you ok?} *As though he hadn't just asked that minutes ago.* {You should sit.}

No, it wasn't nothing. It was everything, because that's what I stood to lose.

[He squints, half-remembering trying to wake up and breathe.]

I'll sit, but... for now, I'm trying to stay awake until it's out of my system. You can attest to the fact that I have a very good reason for not wanting to pass out at this time.

[He glances at Cesar's tense scrubbing, then moves to tug the washcloth out of his hands.]

Do you want to have any skin left...? Careful...

[He drapes the wetted washcloth over his forearm and grasps the first aid kit, and uses his other hand to turn Cesar by his shoulder.]

Bench.

[Short, crisp instructions, and a nudge in that direction.]

*The cloth is tugged free of his hands, and he finds himself walking away as though he'd been given orders from god directly. This isn't any sort of time where he wants to think this reaction through, so he leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. It puts his hands where he can study them, and--... Well, the doppelganger did a number on them, that's for certain.*

*He keeps his head down while he signs.*

{He did this to get to me. If he hadn't wanted time alone, he wouldn't have done any of this.}

*His hands are shaking. He folds them into fists, and then re-extends the fingers slowly. It doesn't help.*

Edited 2015-04-05 01:33 (UTC)

[L's movements are slow, still on the tail-end of drugged. He sits beside Cesar, shoulder-to-shoulder with the other man, surveying the damage done to the skin of his hands. His face is a little more difficult to see, considering it's bent and bowed over his open knees.

L's voice is slow, firm and clear when he speaks.]

This isn't your fault. I thought I could watch him every second, and... clearly I was wrong. I am so sorry this happened, and you were put in that kind of position.

[He gingerly nudges at Cesar's forehead with his knuckles, trying to get him to raise his face; it's a far cry from the grasping, bold advances of his doppelganger, handling Cesar like a possession with rampant entitlement. He dabs at some of the blood on his face, focusing on what's crusted around his nose. The skin is changing colors, already beginning to bruise.]

*The sign for 'it's nothing' is simple and without hesitation. Him lifting his head is a little less so, but when he turns to let L dab the blood away, well, there's not much consideration to that at all. He licks the corner of his mouth, and then just presses his lips closed altogether: the towel won't help where the inside of his lip is bleeding, and he knows now that the blood on his lip isn't from that.*

{It's ok.}

*It's as though he's amending his previous 'nothing' comment, knowing that he'd sounded dismissive.*

*The nose looks bruised, but there's no major deformity or interference with his breathing.*

Edited 2015-04-05 02:56 (UTC)

[His motions slow slightly at that sign, which really does look a little bit dismissive. The amendment is an enormous relief; it actually kind of shocks him how much of one it is.]

Is it OK?

[He tips Cesar's face up a little more, squinting, examining the bleeding. For such a notorious germaphobe, Lazarus is surprisingly good with dealing with injuries. Goodness knows he's had enough of his own.]

I mean... can you...?

[It's truncated. He glances down at Cesar's hands, taking the wrist of his less-injured one and raising it toward his face.]

Hold this here. I'm just going to the sink to wash my hands before getting some Neosporin on these scratches.

[He stands, starting toward the row of sinks.]

*Cesar looks surprised, but he inclines his head forward, keeping his hand where it's been put. Why did L ask him to do this? There's no medical reason why holding this here and not the other would help, is there?*

*Suspecting that L cut himself off but not confident enough to call him out on it, Cesar waits for L to come back, watching him.*

[L glances back at him in the mirror.]

You're nose, where it was bleeding? Hold the cloth there, in case it starts again.

[Even if Cesar's shirt is kind of a lost cause, at this point.

He finishes and returns, uncapping the generously-sized bottle of Neosporin and starting to carefully apply it to the cuts on Cesar's other hand, the one not holding the washcloth.]

Edited 2015-04-05 05:24 (UTC)

*Cesar winces, but quickly complies. He discreetly wipes his mouth on the cloth while he's at it, but otherwise takes care not to jostle anything too much.*

*The Neosporin is cold on his hand, but L's touch isn't enough to disturb the cuts themselves. It's more skill than he'd expected. He keeps both hands still, switching out if asked.*

Edited 2015-04-05 22:46 (UTC)

[Lazarus has a light, delicate touch, and always has; a five-year period of most of his fingers essentially atrophying doubtless contributes to this, but so does his nature. He's gentle, methodical, and patient. He gets along well with animals and children. Despite seeming dishearteningly frail in a lot of ways, he has a manner of strength, and he's drawing from it now.]

Can you look at me? Without seeing him, I mean. After all that, did he erase everything that came before?

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*YOUR nose, this is how I know I was too tired to write a tag