damned_institute | Dayshift 31 -- Doctor's Office 8 [Dr Disraeli]

Entry tags:

cloud,
jizabel

Dayshift 31 -- Doctor's Office 8 [Dr Disraeli]

Adjusting to having his own office was something of a new experience for Jizabel. He was more used to house calls or being given a room at the residence he was staying at, a much more personal approach to the profession. This, however, was a bit more official. His own office set alongside those of the other doctors, his "colleagues" for the time being, arranged to his specifications without the slightest flaw-- nothing from his own experiences could even compare. But really, he didn’t need to compare at all. He had realized the differences of this place from the moment he’d entered and could be reminded of them with just a glance up from his desk.

An environment that was already nicely controlled-- he supposed any could be given the right standards, but it was strange that he wasn’t the one pulling the strings this time. Nothing to set up or keep tabs on for once. Perhaps that was the reason why he was just a little anxious for these therapy sessions to begin; these patients were not ones he had chosen himself.

Absentmindedly tapping the edge of his glasses on the desktop, he waited for the first of his patients to be shown in, mulling over just what personality type he wanted for this setting. The goal of these first meetings was to appear friendly, maybe earn some bits of trust if these patients would be willing to give some, yet still come across as a caring, professional individual that wanted to help. His portrayal of Dr. Allen was too casual for this, and Dr. Hathaway a little too suspicious. Meetings were going to be separated though, and he hadn’t taken any false names here, so he did have the option to deal in a case-by-case manner. That thought left a trace smirk on his lips. He rather doubted any of his assigned patients would care for how he acted anyway, but it never hurt to feign consideration.

Not when it was all just an act.

A knock at the door drew his attention away from his thoughts. That would be the first then. Skye Smith. Frosting himself over with a welcoming air and a pleasant smile, he set his glasses neatly in place and called for them to enter.

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He was going to see a doctor.

Cloud had never liked the thought of seeing a doctor under such controlled circumstances, especially after his meeting with his mother. This seemed like a new trap to fall into, to twist his already ailing mind to be something that he could no longer control. He needed to be in control now. People were counting on him again, and he was hesitant to allow anything close to the stigma that he was becoming a 'head case' again arise.

He had been planning on what he might do. He had been stooling on the matter since reading on the board that he was slated to receive therapy. His previous experience with 'therapy' involved being asked to relax a moment before a needle was jammed in his skin and his mind turned fuzzy. Hojo had been terrible had garnering anything remotely related to comfort.

Still, he had been forced to go and found himself standing sulkily outside the door to the doctor's office. He sighed heavily when his knock caused an answer from the other side and pushed open the door to step inside the professional office.

He kept perfectly still for a moment, only his eyes darting around the office. Frozen, he stood stiff before managing to get himself to relax enough to turn his head enough to regard the doctor sitting on the other side of the desk. "...I was told I had to come, Dr. Disraeli..."

This felt like it was about to go poorly.

His first patient seemed to be rather stiff upon entry. The doctor regarded him a moment, allowing him to take in the office as he seemed to be doing while Jizabel mentally recalled what he could of this patient's file. He'd only received his roster this morning, so his time for looking over each patient's file had been limited. From what he remembered seeing, he knew that Skye Smith was twenty-three and had been admitted by his mother, but anything beyond that would need to be learned either during this meeting or later when he could read the files more carefully. Perhaps he could be more thorough during the Lunch break.

"And so you were," he nodded a smile towards Skye when the man spoke, then motioned to the seat across from his desk, "Please have a seat, Mr. Smith. I'm going to be your doctor for this session, Dr. Jizabel Disraeli." Even if Skye already knew his name, Jizabel thought it best to introduce himself properly, "It's nice to meet you."

The guarded nature Skye presented had made it easy for Jizabel to choose just how to handle him. He needed to make Skye feel at ease, as though this meeting was just a natural part of his regular routine within the institute. Otherwise Skye would likely continue to be a timid little thing content with following the flow. If Skye remained so closed off, then things were bound to go nowhere at all; Jizabel couldn't learn anything if that occurred.

He had a feeling he would be smiling a good deal for this one. "Just let me know when you're comfortable, and we'll begin."

Despite himself, Cloud stared at the seat that remained on the other side of the desk from the doctor. He frowned deeply at the sight of it before he convinced himself that it would not hurt to sit himself down, especially since he could not see any metal bands used to tie a person down. He could not allow himself to think like that though.

He sat down in the chair and settled his hands on the arms, sinking in. It was more comfortable than it should have been. He supposed this would not be a real therapy session if he was wound to the roof and unable to settle himself.

Nodding his head to the introduction, he managed a soft, "You can call me Cloud." He would probably end up with the strange name everyone was calling him here, but he would not make a protest. He did not really wish to get in a fight so soon after sitting down.

After a prolonged silence, he finally shifted a little in the chair and stared at the doctor. "I am comfortable." So, what was there possibly to talk about? He was thinking there might be a list.

There was no doubt some military background listed in Skye's file somewhere, Jizabel thought. Skye's movements were almost mechanical, and his speech direct and monotone. He did not seem to entertain even the thought of smiling either. Might not have even known how!

Jizabel's smile fell just slightly when Skye returned the introduction, but it stayed in place all the same. Ah, that was right. He had been warned of patients preferring to be called something other than the names listed in their files. As a therapist, he knew he probably shouldn't humor his patients in this too much, but since these were to be their first meetings, he saw no harm. His intention was still to earn what trust he could, so that was what he would be focusing on for now. Things would be far easier that way.

"Cloud... very well," Jizabel consented, nodding again. If nothing else, the falsified name was a place to start building. And what a place it was. Cloud was an odd name to choose for oneself, but to each insane man his own, he supposed.

As promised, he waited until "Cloud" gave the word before beginning. "I'm afraid I'm a bit new to this kind of thing; it happens to be my first day," he said first, just to be fair, "So I suppose we can just begin with the basics for now. Why don't you tell me a bit about yourself, Cloud?"

There was something off about this meeting, but he could not decide what that might be. He supposed it could be because this was his very first time in formal therapy sessions. It felt strange to know the man on the other side of the desk considered him mentally unfit to perform normal tasks.

He was technically in some of the best mental shape he had ever been in for his adult life. He dare not think about his days as a puppet under Sephiroth's hand. He had been far more mentally twisted then.

His frown reappared at the prompting to talk about himself. He was never very good at that under the best circumstances let alone in an environment where he was stressed. What was he supposed to say? He had been told the life he had known was not his own but some imaginary figmentation his brain had made up... it was scarily similar to his earlier years.

"I..." he started then stopped, looking at the desk instead of the doctor. "My mother says that I am sick," he finally said, feeling both silly and frustrated at such a phrase. "Where I am from, my mother is dead. I do not know what else you wish to know about me. What I remember is not a mental fabrication twisted by high levels of mako exposure," he said, stopping before he began to ramble.

Yuffie had believed it impossible for him to actually ramble. He maybe just did not speak enough to her.

Even though Jizabel was intentionally prompting "Cloud" into speaking, he wasn't convinced he would get any answer. The man had been fine with the top layer of social formality, but beyond that he might not be so comfortable. His expression certainly didn't show any comfort, nor did his staring at the desk instead of at the doctor.

Jizabel had been about to reassure "Cloud" that there was no need to feel nervous about speaking up when the patient finally did, first hesitantly, then providing a full sentence. Were it to have stopped after the sentence, Jizabel would have been able to easily draw a conversation from it, but "Cloud" was more a social butterfly that he'd expected. And was this a challenge to his sanity? Already? My, that had been fast!

Maybe this "Cloud" could manage an interesting session after all. Jizabel could only hope.

"You are here, so one would have to assume that you are indeed sick," Jizabel said calmly, "and I am here so that I might help you get better." Help, yes, that's what Jizabel was doing. Helping himself more than the patient, but that was still helping. In a way.

He had never heard of mako and could only make inferences on it by "Cloud's" words. Something made up, or possibly a chemical since he'd mentioned exposure. A chemically-induced delirium would account for a lot of things. "I would much more like to know about you first before we begin speaking of your reason for being here," he attempted to force the subject back to his first question. "As I said, I want to know about you. What are your likes and dislikes, your interests, how you are doing here - things along those lines. You don't have to hesitate to tell me anything, Cloud; I'm not here to judge you."

Cloud felt mildly irked by the response, and he stiffened along his shoulders as his eyes lifted to stare at the man across from the desk. He took measure of the doctor, fairly certain that if he had been at his full strength, he could snap the man's neck. That was certainly not any sort of action he was willing to take. He simply did not want to be here.

He was not sick, even if his mother seemed to think so. She had seemed so sure that something was going right for him here that it made his stomach twist uncomfortably. Now that he was facing off against a doctor, he wondered if he would feel as sick as everyone else seemed to think he was.

Though, his illness and the vast extent of it had never formally been explained to him. He simply knew he was here because he was mentally unwell by Landel's standards.

Again, having to talk about himself. He shifted uncomfortably in his chair, not really wanting to get into that subject. He was not certain how his likes and dislikes had anything to do with this. "...I like my freedom," was about the only thing he could come up with on the spot. "I like exercising too," he added after a long silence. "I seem to be maintaining myself here... I mosey here and there like they tell me to."

Jizabel mentally smirked at the animosity he'd just earned from his patient's cool glare. What one's expression lacked, their eyes made up for easily, and "Cloud's" beautiful blue eyes were betraying a lot. He was probably thinking of a way to kill Jizabel as they sat there watching each other. How delightful. Jizabel had always loved the moment when his victims began to loathe him, especially when it was a silent loathing. Just another reminder of that Earl he hated so much.

But this wasn't him, and Jizabel was still acting. He only returned a smile to "Cloud's" look, along with a slight chuckle. "It's good to finally see your eyes, Cloud. Such a nice color." Nothing special, but worth commenting on, even if he was just trying to be facetious for "Cloud's" sake.

He watched again as the man shifted once more in his chair. The action seemed to come every time he attempted to speak and sometimes afterwards as well. He really was that uncomfortable with speaking, it seemed. Sad that it was the only thing he could do in his given situation. "Are you allowed to exercise here?" he asked, picking the easiest of "Cloud's" words to start a conversation on.

He had given himself away. He could tell because it seemed that the doctor across from him was a bit more subtly smug. He was not sure how he knew, but there was something that simply screamed 'Sephiroth' about the man with the subtle twists and pushing in one direction. It felt like he was being herded for a specific purpose.

He blinked at the comment about his eyes and looked aside. A few people had commented on them, but it had never been the colour that they liked. Sephiroth had liked how they were a door to seeing his emotions when his face refused to betray him. His eyes always did. "..."

The question seemed simple, but he held himself back from answering right away. He instead let the silence reign for a few tense moments before he nodded his head. "Yes, they sometimes do. I do what I can on my own."

The smile persisted as "Cloud" turned his eyes away. Embarrassment didn't suit him, so he was probably just bewildered by such a strange comment. Or maybe he too knew just how much one's eyes could betray them. Did he know he'd just made a mistake? If he did, then the tension of their conversation would only continue to grow as the seconds passed.

The long intervals of silence were tense enough as stood. At least with those, Jizabel could allow "Cloud" to think that he still had some control over this meeting. Jizabel only prompted, then waited for Cloud to decide that it was all right for him to speak. He did hope not all of his sessions went like this, but he wouldn't mind it happening if the remaining patients let their eyes give them away either.

"That's good. Do you exercise simply for recreation, or for your health?" Simple questions would do now. Their expressions and mannerisms were the real bulk of this conversation anyway, so their words weren't all that important any more.

The wall was not terribly interesting, but he had thought that maybe it would keep from giving himself away. All the preparation for this meeting lead him to feeling trapped when all that had been asked were simple questions. His dislike for doctors was going to cause him problems, and he almost wished he had his nurse here to talk his ear off.

He kept telling himself that it was just a simple question, that there was no harm. He should not be doing a silent battle with a man he had no idea where true intentions lay. "For both... mostly because I like it and it keeps my mind occupied."

It was also a huge part of his military-ingrained need for routine too. He was not about to mention that though, since his lack of military career could be a sore spot if he looked back on it.

Jizabel silently wondered if he would be given the chance to see "Cloud's" eyes another time. Since his patient was so determined now to look anywhere but directly at him, he doubted he would. It almost felt like he was dealing with a stubborn child, one that was just a step away from giving him the silent treatment. And here he'd thought his youngest patient would be coming the next session.

"Occupied from what?" he asked, then finally broke his statuesque position to reach for the ballpoint pen on his desk's right corner. If "Cloud" was so uninterested in looking at him, then the Doctor saw no harm now in taking notes; he'd been prepared to do so from the beginning but hadn't since he was sure it would have unnerved "Cloud" further.

Unnerving him now was fine though - just another way to deal with untrusting children.

Now there was a question that he did not wish to answer, but he supposed that he had brought it on himself by being honest. He doubted that stating he was thinking about how to escape this place would go down very well. He did not wish to be placed under harsh treatment because he did not feel as if he belonged here or that he was entertaining a considerable amount of his time staring at walls that had once seemed an easy feat to jump.

After a long moment of silence, Cloud flicked his eyes back towards the doctor. He did not think that he had said anything interesting enough to warrant actual notes on. Perhaps exercising for the purpose of keeping busy was odd for mental patients? He could not remember any time of hearing of such things.

Finally, he decided that some measure of honesty would not harm him. "From thinking too much," he said softly. "I have been told by friends it will get me into trouble or..." he trailed off, not really wanting to admit that he suffered from bouts of depression. That might warrant medication. Still, he had left it open, and the doctor was bound to pick up on it.

Was he just being suspicious? Maybe his tainted view of doctors was going to put him in some trouble. "If I think too much, I might get depressed," he finally admitted, his lips downturning into a deep frown.

What he wrote were only simple notes really, nothing too important - the patient had barely said anything worth noting - but the simple movement of the pen was sure to draw attention and get "Cloud" to thinking. Jizabel kept his own eyes down in the moments he jotted away, just knowing that "Cloud" had given him a glance up.

A little at a time.

Ah, one's thoughts. Those were dangerous sometimes, as Jizabel well knew. "Well, Heaven forbid," he teased just slightly at that last comment, trying to lighten the mood just a bit. By the looks of it, this patient was already in some state of depression. If he could get any worse than this, Jizabel would have been impressed. "But that is understandable. Are your friends important to you?" he asked, turning his attention up once more.

They must have been if "Cloud" was taking into account their concerns over him. Or maybe it was just peer pressure. These friends could very well not want him to think so that he wouldn't doubt the life he had fabricated.

Looking at the doctor across from him, Cloud had to wonder how Barret had managed to sit through one of these sessions. He considered himself less temperamental than his friend, but even this session was starting to get to him. It was nothing in particular, just that he was here in the first place. Barret probably would have killed someone if the older man's track record for violence was still in place.

His eyebrows drew together to complete his frown at the attempt at humour. He supposed that he should lighten up, but he really did not wish to be here talking about anything. It just seemed much too rude and childish to say nothing at all. He went with bear minimums as much as possible.

"Yes, they are the only thing I have here," he said. He would give his life to protect them and to offer them freedom if that was possible. They had saved him more times than he could count, and he wanted to return the favour.

Since he knew "Cloud" was at least partially interested in whatever was being written down, Jizabel kept the notes simpler than he might have otherwise lest "Cloud" view something and protest. Jizabel was good with his memory and could very well finish any important notes after his patient had been removed. He would certainly be noting "Cloud's" now admitted depression and asking if he was taking any form of medication for that. The nurses must know.

"Cloud" was apparently unamused by his attempts at lightening the mood. Pity. This poor boy would do well to loosen up. The conversation would continually get more trying for him if he did not.

"But not wanting you to think... wouldn't you say that's a bit extreme?" Jizabel pressed, "I'm sure your friends' opinions are important to you, but they should not be allowed to tell you what you can and cannot think. That is supposed to be for you to decide." Patients needed to think if any progress was to be made towards recovery and, of course, if Jizabel was to make any progress in his own research as well. "Don't you agree?"

Cloud blinked slowly at the sudden depth of the conversation towards his friends. That was not what he was expecting after the simple line of questioning that he had been receiving before this point in time. Dr. Disraeli thought his friends were trying to make him stop thinking?

He could not think that what his companions did was in a malicious intent, more to ease his concerns over the past. They were trying to take care of him, not repress him. It seemed absurd to even think of such things happening with people like Barret and Cid.

"I..." he fumbled for something to say, eyeing the doctor as if to see if this was yet another attempt at a joke - maybe at his expense. "They are simply watching out for me. They have been through a lot with me, and they know the way that I am." He wanted to explain it more, but he was not comfortable describing his past.

If he did, then he really would be a mental case. Even he had been avoiding really thinking over some of his previous mental states during the Meteor Crisis.

This whole thing was somewhat of a joke for him - he had so many better options for which to study how humans thought - but his acting was sincere enough. He'd just asked what any other therapist would when presented the right material. The pressure from those someone viewed as his friends could be a powerful thing quite detrimental to the recovery process. The concerned Doctor just had to speak up on the matter.

"Are they? You seem quite confident in that, Cloud. Or is it just that they know you because that is how they've made you think? Are you sure you're thinking for yourself on this matter?" Jizabel was reminding himself of just what had drawn him to psychology. Such confusion. What a wonderful way to toy with a person's emotions.

Why would he not feel confident in the opinions of his friends? He needed a smack to the back of his head once in awhile to keep him thinking straight or without getting too depressed as he thought of the emotional baggage he could be carrying. Where would he be without Tifa or Barret or even Yuffie?

Lost.

His eyes darkened with a flickering of protectiveness for his friends. He kept his hands from clasping the arms of his chair too hard only because he found himself staring down the doctor across the desk from him. "I am confident in that," he said stiffly with a hint of defensiveness. "I may be here, but I have enough willpower to think for myself."

There it was again, the subtle loathing of a look. Jizabel loved seeing it in his eyes again, cold, dark, and hard. Not a trace of that insecurity from earlier. So this was how he responded when pressured, was it?

At least this "Cloud" was rooted in his beliefs, though speaking outside of the metaphor, that was fairly impossible. What an entertaining thought though - a rooted Cloud. And a defensive one too, not wanting to move from its position. Moving him would take much more than a simple breeze though, that much was certain.

"And I believe you," he said, matter-of-factly, "I was waiting to hear your own words on the matter. Thus far, you've only mentioned what your friends have said." He tilted his head, showing an interested, though slightly sly look.

Cloud continued to stare across the desk at the doctor, trying to decide if he was being mocked in some way. It seemed to him like he was the butt of some joke that he did not quite understand or maybe that he was playing right into the doctor's hand so easily. It felt like Hojo's mind-games at times.

He reminded himself quickly that he needed to not put every doctor or professor that he met into the same category as Hojo. Not everyone was a sadistic genius looking to inflict as much physical and mental suffering as possible. Some could be nice. His nurse was fine.

Unchanging, he shifted a little in his chair and finally let out a puff of air from his lips. "I like to exercise because thinking all the time on certain subjects will cause unneeded turmoil," he stated matter-of-factly in return. "I am making an effort to keep my life as stress-free as possible so I can concentrate on greater tasks."

He was being mocked, as much as he could be considering Jizabel's act. The acting itself was mocking, but it would be a feat if "Cloud" discovered that on his own. And his suspicions were correct; he very well should think each doctor a sadistic genius. It was how all doctors were, in Jizabel's opinion - humans just a little more attuned to the sciences, yet still carrying all the sins they were born with.

The same sins of all mankind.

More shifting, so expected by now. Jizabel allowed his expression to soften away from slyness once "Cloud" put himself back on track. There was a good patient. "I'm glad to hear that you are," he breathed, showing signs of relief. As much as he adored feeling a patient's hatred, it was just as well when a patient started calming. His act was better kept that way. "What greater tasks might you be referring to? Something stress free, I'd wager?"

Cloud figured that the next line of questioning would start up against him once the words had left his lips. He leaned more into the chair he had been sitting stiffly in, his hands clasping the chair arms comfortably. He looked at the items on the doctor's desk as he considered how to answer.

Getting out of here is priority, he thought. He could not well admit such things, since breaking out was probably going to get him monitored more closely. He needed to keep the low profile that he had been. If he was a 'good' patient, he would be overlooked.

He raised his eyebrows and shrugged in an non-commital fashion. "Getting well, I suppose," he murmured. "My mother told me that I would be released if I was well, so that should be my first priority." It was best to hide his true intentions behind the words that everyone obviously wanted to hear from him.

"Though, if I am here because of a fabrication of a life, how come every other patient has the same affliction? Mental institutes are not supposed to be based on one specific ailment," he commented, raising an eyebrow.

Getting well was a great task for the patients, but not one they were likely to be thinking on. If "Cloud" did think for himself, of course. That was still an iffy subject, and Jizabel could not be sure of what influences "Cloud's" friends had on him. No, there was something else he wasn't mentioning. He'd said as much himself when he'd used the word "should". Yes, getting well should have been his first priority, but him saying so meant that it, in fact, was not his first priority.

What agenda did he have? Or was he simply trying to dance around giving out truthful answers? Either way, Jizabel was fine with playing any game. It was his job to do so.

"Mass psychosis has many explanations, I'm afraid. We simply have to work on a case-by-case basis in order to reverse what damage has resulted from that phenomenon," he answered as if reading from a book. It was true that most mental institutions would cover a variety of different ailments, but there was nothing wrong with a specialized facility such as this either. "Have you been in any institutions prior to this one?" he asked, testing. "Cloud" needed to have a basis for his accusation if he was to continue on this tangent.

It seemed like Dr. Disraeli had just nicely side-stepped actually answering his question fully. That allowed a few alarm bells to go off in his mind as he lifted his eyes back to the doctor's face. Something seemed to be amiss about this place, especially since some of the people he knew had no mental ailments that he knew about. This place was possibly the fabrication, but how did they all get here in the first place?

"Not to my knowledge," he admitted softly. However, he could remember a time when he probably should have been for his and everyone else's safety. There was a flash of guilt in his eyes, but he managed to keep himself from looking away. "However, my experience with institutions dealing with mental abnormalities does not seem to include having only one type of patient for a population of this size," he said, trying to bring things around to the point he was trying to make.

Would Dr. Disraeli ever admit something? Or would things get twisted around to focus on his own mental afflictions?

Jizabel did not think himself avoiding the question at all. He was basing his answer on fact. Mass psychosis did indeed have many causes, but the cause for the one in this particular institute was not something he'd been made aware of just yet. It was still his first day, after all. How should he know?

Eyes hardening again, Jizabel watched "Cloud's" response to his question. No knowledge of one? Then why was there guilt in his eyes? Something he knew he'd done perhaps? Or that his fabricated self had done, at least. Jizabel was more convinced of "Cloud's" intent to avoid his questions now, but that only interested the Doctor.

"And where does your experience come from?" he asked, now curious. If "Cloud" had never actually been in another facility aside from this one, then where was he drawing his information from? Not that it really mattered; Jizabel was only asking on his own interests for now. If "Cloud" wasn't able to present anything worth while, Jizabel would steer the conversation back to a place of his own liking once again.

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Dayshift 31 -- Doctor's Office 8 [Dr Disraeli]

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