Day 20: Dr. Wilson's Office [Doctor's Office 6]

[damned-doctors.livejournal.com]

It was silly, but Wilson was nervous.

Mental health was by no means his specialty. It was true that he more or less had to act as a counselor for his patients. Most of them had terminal cancer. The dates were never any good. Two years, one year, six months, three months. He could speak to people about dying well enough, but this was different.

Hopefully he would get the hang of it. He took solace in the fact that he had a bit more experience than some of the other doctors. Such as, oh, House? He wasn't sure what the chief of staff had been thinking when he hired him. It made him wonder if the administrators were as insane as the patients.

Even though therapy didn't start first thing in the morning, Wilson had made sure to be there extra early anyway. (He had to make up for House, who would undoubtedly be late.) His office was also cleaner than it would normally be - first impressions were important, after all, and that was probably even more true with mental patients. He heard the intercom, which meant his first patient would be heading in soon. He straightened in his chair, though his nervousness caused him to grab a random doodad off of his desk and start fiddling with it.

[ ooc: For Adelheid, Cliff, Dias, Eric, Hikaru, Riza, Scar, and Seimei. ]

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[grosse-sklaven.livejournal.com]

It seemed like Adelheid was one of the first, and that didn't surprise the boy too much. He'd been shuffled by the nurses as quickly as possible- complete with scoldings for falling asleep during breakfast- and now he stumbled into a doctor's office, red eyes bleary and his entire body gripped with weariness.

And now he was going to have his mind picked through. Brilliant.

"Good morning, doctor." He could remain polite. He could try to get some information without causing too many problems. In fact...

...he remembered that the only reason he was here, theoretically, was because of his 'insanity'. If he could get free of this place, perhaps he could find a way back home. If it would get him back to his dear Rose, then it would be worth a shot. That thought alone made him brighten, after that momentary bout of exhaustion. "Forgive me, but I've never been through one of these before."

[damned-doctors.livejournal.com]

The first patient entered almost without him noticing. There had been no word from the nurse. The teenager was just suddenly there.

He didn't look good, either. Wilson had seen worse, of course. He'd seen six-year-olds without a single piece of hair on them, emaciated...

"Good morning," he responded, returning the pleasantry. Even though the blond didn't look anywhere close to one hundred percent, he had more manners than Wilson had been expecting. If a teenager was in a mental hospital, though, the most likely reason would be schizophrenia... Which meant that the boy's mood might change at any instant.

Wilson didn't hold back a smile when the patient admitted it was his first time doing something like this.

"Same here, actually," he said. There was no point in trying to hide it, after all. "Why don't you take a seat?" he offered, gesturing to the chair that was situated across his desk.

[grosse-sklaven.livejournal.com]

"Thank you," he answered, body pretty much on autopilot as he slid into the chair. He'd have to make sure he didn't fall asleep during the session.

After that he rather blankly looked at the doctor, exhaustion slowing his thoughts down and making it hard to concentrate. He did know, at least, that offering his real name wouldn't be the best way to start things off.

[damned-doctors.livejournal.com]

Geez. The boy--Franz Haushofer, or so the file said--looked about ready to pass out. Wilson was sort of tempted to just let him nap in his office until lunchtime since he doubted much could be done when the patient was so tired.

"Have you been having a hard time sleeping?" Insomnia would only worsen a person's mental state. If it was insomnia that was the problem, he was sort of surprised that it hadn't been addressed yet. Then again, it was possible that sleeping pills would clash with the medicine he was already on for his mental condition.

"Franz Haushofer... Though I'm guessing you'd prefer Adelheid, right?" He hoped he was pronouncing that properly.

[totallytheseme.livejournal.com]

Hikaru was still mildly annoyed at Kaoru for ruining the game--he could've called attention to the fact that his brother's arm was magically healed more discreetly, right?--and even more so that nurses had taken it upon themselves to separate the twins as soon as that damn intercom had gone off.

About ten minutes (and several threats of legal action that seemed to have fallen upon deaf ears) later, he found himself standing in front of a rather nervous-looking young doctor as his nurse started to rattle off introductions.

"Dr. Wilson? This is Andrew Hill. Mr. Hill? This is Dr. Wilson. Now...I'll just leave you two alone, and you can start!"

Hikaru rolled his eyes. "You have got to be kidding me."

[damned-doctors.livejournal.com]

An actual introduction this time! Wilson was surprised to see that his second patient was yet another teenage boy - and he looked even younger. He couldn't be older than sixteen. He knew that Landel's had patients of all ages, so was it simply coincidence that he seemed to have all the adolescent boys assigned to him?

Not that it really mattered, but it was something to ponder over. Then again, children most likely required a doctor a bit more gentle than some of the other staff. Though he figured the professor would also be a good candidate for counseling the children.

He chuckled at the boy's indignant attitude. "Unfortunately, no. It might be a drag, but you might as well make the best of it. Go ahead and sit down."

[totallytheseme.livejournal.com]

Hikaru wanted to ignore this Wilson guy and stand in the middle of the room (just to be contrary), but the naggy little Kaoru voice in the back of his head told him to just suck it up. Plus, he didn't put it past the doctor to call those huge apes if he misbehaved.

He slouched in the arm chair across from the doctor, scowling. It was actually quite comfortable...and he wasn't quite as indignant as he let on...but he wasn't going to let Wilson have the satisfaction of knowing it.

Hikaru was seriously beginning to doubt that this was just another one of the Host Club's pranks. It was too weird, even by their standards.

"So...? Are you going to tell me why I'm here, or not?"

[damned-doctors.livejournal.com]

At least the kid sat down. Wilson had the files all in order, so he grabbed the proper one and flipped it open. He'd read it over a few times already, but he liked to have it in front of him.

"Andrew Hill," he murmured to himself as he skimmed it. "But you'd rather I call you Hikaru, right?" he asked as he lifted his head, his expression open and amiable as he made eye contact with the boy. "Or is it Hitachiin?" he asked with a frown as he glanced down. The name was Japanese (he was fairly sure), but he always got mixed up about which name was supposed to be used.

"As for why you're here," he said with a small sigh as he leaned back in his chair, his hands clasped together in his lap, "you've apparently got some sort of mental disorder." He seemed sane enough, but that could change in a split second. "And I'm supposed to talk to you about it. So, what do you want to talk about? It can be anything. It can be..." He paused, trying to think of something random and mundane. "The cafeteria food."

[gun-fire.livejournal.com]

Riza paid special attention to the route they took through the building, though she tried not to seem too interested in it. She didn't know how much good it would do, judging by what the brigadier general had said about it changing, but she couldn't remain ignorant to it.

After some excruciating small talk, they arrived at a hall of offices. She guessed she was here for the therapy announced over the intercom. The nurse looked at her watch, murmuring that they were a little early, but Riza's turn came soon enough. The nurse drew her forward and knocked on the door, introducing her as she led her inside. Riza frowned to hear that other name again.

But she sat obediently when the chair was offered, and though she couldn't yet tell which of them would be more of a trial, she was relieved when the nurse left her with the doctor. She glanced around the office, trying to get an idea of the sort of man he was before he could speak, but it looked as though he was almost as new as she was. She let her attention settle on him.

[damned-doctors.livejournal.com]

From the moment Wilson's third patient was led inside, he got the feeling that this session would go smoother than the first two. First of all, this one wasn't a teenage boy. She was still young, but she looked composed and professional. Wilson was surprised that she could give off that feeling - even in the drab, rather ridiculous garb they were forced to wear.

Really. Why the smiley face?

Once the door was closed and they were left alone, Wilson let Samantha take in her surroundings before he spoke up.

"Good morning," he started, almost awkwardly. That was the hardest part - starting. Once he got the patient talking things went a little smoother. "How are you?"

[gun-fire.livejournal.com]

"Delusional," she answered. "Or so they tell me."

Folding her hands in her lap, she frowned slightly. She had every intention of keeping her resolve, no matter what she said in the presence of the authority here, but all it took were these simple words from him and she almost wanted to be helped.

Perhaps he was just too frank. The way he was sitting, the way his expression changed when he talked . . . he seemed too sincere.

"Aside from that," she added, not wanting to be difficult, "I'm hungry."

[beloved-lives.livejournal.com]

Seimei was shown into the office by his nurse, placidly going along with her without much comment at all. She smiled at him, but it was a vacant politeness at best. There was nothing real here, no real emotions, no reality at all -- so he may as well go along with it, for the time being. It didn't matter and he didn't care; he'd find someone and twist them and manipulate whoever he needed in order to get through his ordeal and back to his actual life.

Until then, he'd milk it for all it was worth. Of course.

He gave the man a pleasant smile, sitting down in one of the seats provided. His tail draped over the edge of the chair, catlike ears flicked idly. "Good morning." He propped his elbow on the arm of the chair, leaning his cheek against his folded hand. "So... what am I in for?"

[damned-doctors.livejournal.com]

Wilson appreciated when patients got right down to business. Trying to coax them into talking usually felt like he was pulling teeth - and really, he wanted these sessions to go as smooth as possible for both him and his patients.

However, he took no notice of the ears or the tail, as if he couldn't see them at all. Whether it was a well-done act or if he truly couldn't see them was difficult to determine.

"Morning," he replied. While this David Raine was another teenager, he seemed more mature than Hikaru, at least. "And it looks like... schizophrenia," he informed him as he glanced over the file. Though how was it that he wouldn't know that...? Or maybe the patient was just humoring him. (Or toying with him.)

[beloved-lives.livejournal.com]

"Hmm? And how did that happen, I wonder?" Seimei's smile remained. "If you will tell me that all I know of my life is a lie, then what have I truly lived? Is it in that file there?" He wondered how far these people had gone to maintain the illusion.

His tail betrayed his inner annoyance, flicking sharply at irregular intervals.

"What happened to me, then? At least, by your account?"

[dead-draven.livejournal.com]

Eric was hustled into the doctor's offic by his nurse, left inside with the door shut firmly behind him. He looked at it for a moment, then took the chair across from Wilson with a weary sigh.

He didn't want to be here, and he still wasn't sure exactly what this doctor would be like. He expected him to be something like the nurses, of course, and if that were the case he'd get no information from him. In fact, he doubted he'd be giving up anything. What reason was there to tell someone you barely know all your problems? It just burdens them and make you feel worse. He'd never understood the concept of therapists, and he knew just talking about things wouldn't make him feel any better, or make them better.

So when he spoke, it was with a faintly amused smile. "Morning, doctor."

[damned-doctors.livejournal.com]

For some reason, Wilson got the feeling that this patient had been through therapy before - or at least something similar. And that he wasn't a fan.

It wasn't a great way to start off, but he would like to think that he wasn't like most therapists. He wasn't really a therapist to start with, but that wasn't the point, was it?

He had to get through eight patients before lunch and this was the fifth one. The whole thing was pretty draining, but in the clinic he'd seen three times that many patients without a break. Diagnosing the common cold and discussing an insane person's deepest thoughts were very different things, however.

"Morning. You don't look to happy to see me," he said with a small quirk of his lips. "Eric, right?" He doubted any of the patients were going to like him using their actual names, so he didn't even bother asking anymore.

[dead-draven.livejournal.com]

His smile widened. It was clear Wilson had said the right thing. "That's right. How nice to hear it coming from someone around here instead of the other name they've fixed me with. Even if I can appreciate the irony, it gets very, very tiring very, very fast."

He paused, asessing his doctor. He seemed very...regular, though that was par for the course around here, at least during the day. Polite, at least, not as disturbingly cheerful as the nurses in their bizarre, Stepford way.

He rested his head on a hand, fingers tangled in his wild black hair. "So what is the solution, doctor? Do you have me all figured out?" His eyes were wide, and though his tone was innocent it sparked with bemusement and mischief. "Ah, but I'm being impolite. What's your name?"

[heavens-too-far.livejournal.com]

Dias couldn't quite decide if he was relieved or aggravated to be led off to meet with some doctor immediately following breakfast which he hadn't eaten anyway. On the one hand, he didn't want to have to deal with anyone he knew at the moment...but on the other, he didn't want to deal with anyone period at the moment and he was being forced to talk to one of the doctors who were presumably in charge of this place rather than finding somewhere quiet to brood.

Dr. Wilson, apparently, according to the door. Even with the ever-present threat of the burly orderlies, Dias privately resolved that if the man's voice even remotely resembled the taunting that sounded through the halls every night, he'd lunge over the desk and throttle the doctor with his own tie.

He was led into the room and then left there, standing across from a doctor who was - to Dias' private satisfaction - several significant inches shorter than he was and who didn't even look as confident as Dias himself felt, despite the fact that he was supposedly running the show(in this room, at least, if not the entire hospital). Dias didn't say anything, preferring instead to size the man up.

[damned-doctors.livejournal.com]

Wilson's sixth patient was the most intimidating one thus far. He was a giant with hair that he personally felt was far too long. The color was also outrageous and he didn't even want to think how long it had taken to dye. It had taken Julie three hours simply to get highlights added to her hair... Though he didn't really want to think about that.

The fact that he remained standing clued Wilson in to the fact that he wasn't going to be easy to talk to. He exuded reserved. He felt almost as closed off as House, which was quite a feat.

He flipped through his stack of files for the right one before glancing up to make proper eye contact. His eye color was as strange as his hair color, but Wilson made sure he didn't falter upon noticing it. "Go ahead and sit down, Dias."

[heavens-too-far.livejournal.com]

Dias considered, briefly, refusing, but after a moment decided it would be an empty gesture. It wouldn't mean anything and would only serve to make him uncomfortable, given how sore his side still was.

He sat down across from the man. Gingerly. He still didn't speak; he didn't have anything he particularly wanted to say, especially to a doctor. Unless the man actually demanded he talk - and then enforced that demand - perhaps Dias would get some time to simply sit and be quiet.

[gotahunch.livejournal.com]

Cliff allowed himself to be escorted peacefully by the nurses, most of his attention focused on trying to keep a good map of the route in mind. Depending on the place's definition of therapy it might prove to be more useful than the kitchen had been the night before. Great, something to look forward to. Electroshock.

He couldn't really say it made the best substitute for coffee. After three sleepless nights he'd finally let the exhaustion get the better of him and he was still in the process reaching awake status.

He'd found himself in his bed that morning with his arm bandaged and stitched up from where that monster's sword had nicked him. It still stung and itched but that was somewhere at the back of his mind. Cliff took a deep breath and sighed. They'd find a way to defeat this place sooner or later, it was just going to take a lot of doing.

He entered the doctor's office looking a little tired but mostly his usual self.

"'Morning." He offered, giving the doctor a small nod. The office looked...neat. And normal. "No medieval torture devices, huh?" He asked with a grin.

[damned-doctors.livejournal.com]

Wilson was glad to know he was reaching the home stretch. There would only be one more patient coming in after this one. Either way, his experiences had been interesting - and generally more normal than he'd been expecting. Hopefully that was a good sign and these people weren't as sick as the files claimed they were.

The first thing Wilson noticed was that this one was a bit older - not his age, but probably over thirty. He glanced down at the file to see it read thirty-six.

Well, Cliff looked very good for his age. Though Wilson heard that sort of thing himself.

He looked tired, but not as tired as poor Adel had. It was more the just-woke-up look. He wondered if he'd slept through breakfast.

It was good to see that he had a sense of humor. Wilson laughed and shook his head in response to the question. "No, no, nothing like that." He motioned to the chair, figuring the blond would know what to do. "How are you? ...Other than sleepy," he observed with a smile.

[gotahunch.livejournal.com]

Cliff stretched a little then took a seat across from the doctor. He didn't seem crazy or sadistic so this was already going better than Cliff expected. He wasn't any more thrilled at the idea of therapy than the other patients must have been but he remembered Lust's words about the doctors in this place. If he was finally going to get a chance to talk to someone who knew something he wasn't about to piss them off and pass it up.

"I've had better weeks." He replied with a shrug. "But I've been told that my memories are shot so..." He laughed a little, apparently taking this news in stride. "I was actually hoping you could help me there."

[right-handed.livejournal.com]

Scar couldn't say he was too surprised when he saw an unfamiliar face where his old doctor had been no more than a few days before. It had been a while since the last "therapy" sessions, after all, although Scar had at least learned that these doctors did know more than they let on.

The Ishbalan only sat down because he was still rather weak from the wounds he'd suffered the night before last. He glared up at this new adversary, red eyes narrowed and intensely fixed on the man across from him.

"Was your predecessor punished for speaking too much?"

[damned-doctors.livejournal.com]

This man - who apparently went by "Scar," though that wasn't his actual name (which made things even more confusing) - was his last patient. Wilson wasn't looking forward to lunch as much he had been earlier, mainly because he was going to have to drive somewhere to get it.

Oh well. Getting out might do him some good. Doctors tended to spend far too much time inside stuffy buildings.

Wilson would have normally laughed a little at the question, but this one was so serious that it would have seemed inappropriate.

"If being let go is a punishment, then I guess so, yes. Not sure if it was the talking that did him in, though." He actually hadn't heard many details about it, but it hadn't occurred to him to ask, either.