damned_institute | Day 39: Doctor's Office 6 (Dr. Wilson) [Second Shift]

Stepping into his office on this particular Wednesday morning, Wilson had to admit that he was in a good mood. His last session the day before had gone particularly well, and he only wished that more of that patients were as willing to talk as Aubrey had been. Things could never be that easy, though, could they? Then again, considering he wasn't really qualified for this job, he would have thought he deserved a little slack here and there.

Either way, he was hoping that he was on some kind of good streak. Didn't those self-help books always talk about thinking positive? It was a load of bull (the sort of thing he and House had mocked together in the past), but the concept itself wasn't so bad. He'd seen enough dying patients hold on just a day more to see a family member to know that sometimes strength of will alone was enough to make a difference.

That was an internal thing, though. He had no sway over how well-behaved his patients were, but he was allowed to cross his fingers under his desk.

Next up was a new patient - new to him, at least. The man had apparently been at Landel's for a few days. Jude Davis was the name, and he was listed as having a personality disorder. He already sounded like a handful, but Wilson was going to withhold judgment for now.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

That question earned the doctor a look of surprise from Allelujah. He'd mostly been expecting a dismissive response, because they'd been telling him that nothing he knew was real since he'd arrived here. Why should this doctor be any different? But still, even if he was just being humoured, it was nice to not be told that he was crazy by someone else on the staff. The nurses made him want to scream a lot of the time with the fake name and fake history which they wouldn't actually tell him about.

"I remember everything," he said coolly. "Years being locked up there, other children disappearing because they weren't useful anymore so they were disposed of." He hated them, hated them all for what they'd done, and he hated himself for having killed those who remained, even when he'd heard them begging him to stop because he'd been their brother too.

That wasn't what Wilson had been expecting, but he went ahead and continued his line of questioning, hoping that the pieces would fall into place eventually. "If you remember all of it, then what exactly triggers Hallelujah to come out?" he asked. The man had mentioned something about flashbacks, so maybe he had moments where he literally relived his supposed past.

There was also the question of dreams, but that was treading a little too far into Freud's territory for Wilson's taste. In any case, it was starting to sound like post-traumatic stress disorder was what had caused the formation of the other personality.

Allelujah didn't like that way of describing it. "He's not triggered," he protested. "He's always there, even if he doesn't always talk to me." Sometimes he was quiet and sometimes he just wouldn't shut up making remarks which were utterly useless. He had a skewed perspective on everything. It was sometimes difficult to remember that they were the same person. "He comes out when there's something I can't deal with, or if there's a fight he wants to be involved in or if I'm incapacitated or if he's bored and wants something to do. And then he leaves when he gets bored."

It was becoming obvious that the patient was getting sick of the onslaught of questions, but Wilson needed to establish all of this before they could make any progress. Though he wasn't sure what they should be working toward if Allelujah was happy with the way things were. The man needed to realize that he couldn't pass the buck like that -- he had to take responsibility for himself, even when it seemed impossible.

"All right," Wilson said, nodding to indicate that he got the picture as he scribbled a few messy notes. "So when did Hallelujah first... make himself known, then?" He was doing his best to use terminology that better fit the dynamic the patient had just explained, so hopefully that would work.

Allelujah's face blanked at the question and he shook his head. "I'm not talking about that," he replied in a flat tone, obviously displeased with the question. He wasn't about to tell anyone about that, certainly not a stranger who worked for this place. It was too terrible to talk about, all of his comrades, all of them who'd escaped and they'd... It made him feel sick, even if killing them had been the only thing that had allowed them to survive.

"I was eight or nine though. I don't remember exactly how old." He couldn't remember what his original name had been and most of the rest Celestial Being had found out for him later. But Hallelujah had been there for more than half of his life, he couldn't imagine living without him.

When Allelujah immediately shut that thread of conversation down, Wilson knew that he would only make things worse if he tried to push it. He had gotten a surprising amount of information out of the patient already, so he knew better than to keep working on something when he'd gotten the essential piece of information in the end: the time period.

If the other personality had developed that young (which was extremely rare as far as Wilson knew), then the chances of actually being able to integrate it were probably very low. However, if Allelejah didn't make some effort to get Hallelujah under control, then he was going to have a very small chance of getting out of here.

Wilson could have made that point now, but he wasn't sure that would be the best idea. The patient was already agitated, and both of them probably needed some time to think all of this over before getting into absolutes like that.

"Thank you for being so cooperative," Wilson said as he took some final notes and then closed the man's file. "I think that's enough for today, but I'll see you next week."

Day 39: Doctor's Office 6 (Dr. Wilson) [Second Shift]

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject