damned_institute | Day 40: Doctor's Office 6 (Dr. Wilson) [Fourth Shift]

Entry tags:

Day 40: Doctor's Office 6 (Dr. Wilson) [Fourth Shift]

Things could have gone better with Max, but they also could have gone much, much worse. Wilson was willing to take a somewhat awkward, tense session over a downright terrible one. As for his next two patients (the last two for this week), one was completely new to him while the other one would be a follow-up. He would have preferred the new patient have a shift to herself, but he had little say in how the scheduling worked in this place.

As for the returning patient, Wilson remembered Kyle well. The boy possibly had some sort of personality disorder, but unlike Allelujah-Hallelujah from earlier, he hadn't been aware of his other personality. Wilson had to wonder if the boy had made any effort to keep track of his moods and his memory to see if things didn't add up, but he supposed it wouldn't be long before he found out. The boy had been agreeable last time, so unless he was in a bad mood today (like Max), things should go smoothly. The new patient was a mystery, but Wilson did his best to keep an open mind.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Meche started. So he knew about that. Why? Hadn't they made up some kind of fake story for her? Was threatening Domino supposed to be what had landed her here in "real life," too?

"I was angry," she blurted out, completely honestly. "You don't know what it was like in that office, day after day, all his comments....Does it say in there that he used to lock me in the vault when he thought I was talking back a little too much for my own good? And there was no way out! The only thing I could do was try to keep my head down--but God, it was just so tough!"

She felt her fists clenching in her lap, tension in her left hand and outright pain in her right. Meche forced herself to loosen them and flattened her palms against her thighs. "So when I saw a way to fix things, I just--took it," she said, more quietly.

Where were her delusions supposed to come into it? Was it just the same story, except that they all had different names and they were alive? Maybe it was dangerous to make herself sound like she'd been too sane then.

She was probably allowed to sound like she'd come to her senses, though, so Meche took a deep breath, controlled herself, kept going. Made it sound good. "It wasn't a solution; I know that now. It didn't fix anything. But at the time, I was just at my wits' end." She left out her conviction that she'd do it again in a heartbeat, given the chance. She was really the queen of sins of omission today.

Wilson hadn't expected such a candid response, but once Maria started expressing herself he made sure to pay close attention. This was one of the moments that had pointed to her bad mental health, so getting her side of the story was definitely important.

It sounded like her boss was a pretty terrible guy, if Maria's word was to be trusted, but that didn't mean that she had gone about dealing with it in the right way. How had she even gotten hold of a gun?

The fact that she could admit that she had been at her wits' end seemed to suggest that she knew she hadn't been thinking straight. Wilson eyed her for a moment before speaking. "It does sound like your work environment was intolerable, but why do you think there was no way out? There must have been someone you could have reported your boss' behavior to..."

Unless the business had been something less than legal, in which case it was hard to sympathize with her. (He still did, of course, but it did make it more of a stretch.) Wilson knew that people did stupid things when they were desperate, but that kind of desperation could lead to making bad moves and having breakdowns, all of which Maria had learned the hard way.

Because we were on a deserted factory island at the edge of the world, Meche's brain spat out automatically. That must be another part of the "delusion." But there was more to it than that, even in the Eighth Underworld--the angelitos. And Hector. What could she say, how could she frame that honestly?

"To me, Victor was the hierarchy," she replied, thinking fast and catching herself before she could call him "Domino." "I couldn't go to his boss, and I didn't know anyone else I could turn to for help. And I had those two little children to try to take care of--what would happen to them if I quit?"

That was another thought. Were Pugsy and Bibi supposed to exist in "real life" too, and if so, where were they supposed to be? Were they delusions? Whatever the line was, she couldn't believe it, but she had to know. María would ask. "Does it say in there what happened to them?" Meche asked, leaning forward. "No one's been able to tell me. Are they all right?"

She watched Dr. Wilson carefully; the question of the children wasn't the only thing making her anxious. Meche wasn't sure how convincing all that sane honesty had been. What if she said she was illegal, that he'd get her deported if--but that was too easy to check, and Meche was a terrible liar. She'd better stick as closely as possible to the real story. María Morales was a saint gone astray, but she was also going to be well on the road to recovery. She just had to be here long enough to reconnect with Manny.

It was hard to believe that there was nothing Maria could have done to get out of that situation, but the important thing was that she had felt that way. When people felt that choked and confined, actually fighting their way to the surface and to safety was easier said than done. And if there had been children involved, that made it even more difficult.

Wilson wasn't surprised that she wanted to know about what had happened to her charges. There had been a mention of them in the general overview, but there had to be a more detailed note somewhere...

"One second," he said as he flipped through the file, and that was when he came across some paperwork having to do with moving the two children into foster care. That wasn't the best option by any means - foster care often messed people up pretty badly - but with their original caretaker here, apparently that had been the only place they could go.

It wasn't good news to deliver, but she had asked for a reason. "They're in foster care," he explained. He refrained from showing her the actual piece of paper since it had more details than she should probably know at this point. If she got better and was released, he was sure that she would be given all of the information at that time.

It wasn't true. Wherever the kids were, it couldn't be here, right? Foster care--surely even Landel wouldn't be cruel enough to take the angelitos from right off the train and dump them into foster care here, just to make things worse for her. Surely.

Then she remembered the virgin-eating birds.

"Oh," Meche repeated, feeling like she'd just been slugged. "Guess I don't exactly have visitation rights, do I?" She shook her head; she was reeling a little now. Getting her off-balance was probably exactly what he wanted, she reminded herself. But to put those little children in foster care, scared and alone....there were a lot of good foster parents out there, but the system also had a lot of problems. Meche doubted those had gone away in the last ten years.

"I'd never hurt them," she said. The earnestness in her own voice surprised her, and she caught herself raking her left hand anxiously through her hair. "Maybe that's hard for you to believe after what I've done, but those angelitos...they really mean the world to me. Do you think there's any chance--if I work hard in here, if I can get better...?" She wasn't sure whether María or Meche was asking the question, and at the moment, the difference didn't seem to matter all that much.

The sincerity with which she was speaking was hard to miss, and Wilson felt bad for her. He wasn't sure how she had ended up taking care of the two children, but she had obviously become attached to them; knowing that her illness was keeping her away from them had to be hard to deal with.

It sounded like she was even more eager to get better if only so that she could see them again. That was the kind of devotion that was usually only seen in parents towards their children. She wasn't their real mother, but that didn't always matter.

"I'm sure that if you recovered and were released, the matter would be looked at by a judge," he assured her. "I can't make any promises, but if it was established that you were well enough to take care of them and support them, then hopefully it would work out." She seemed like a good person who had just been pushed to the brink, so he did want it to turn out okay for her.

"As for visiting, I'm not sure if they would be allowed to come here," he said with a frown. It sounded like they were fairly young, so exposing them to this kind of environment might not be the best idea. Surely she would understand that, along with the fact that it would be hard for the children to see her in this state.

They wouldn't be allowed to come. Meche seized on that; it was a good sign. They couldn't come if they weren't here to begin with. And maybe Landel really wouldn't (or couldn't?) pull them here the same way he took her or Domino. Why would he have been so careful to mention that if they were somewhere nearby?

"I understand," she replied, feeling a little heartened. "This is a pretty scary place for anyone, let alone children. It's probably better if they don't see me until I come home."

But how long was that going to be, she wondered. Even if they--if she, since Manny was down for the count right now--could get everyone out of here, that was still no guarantee that they'd have an easy way back to the Ninth Underworld. Would they just have to live out their lives on Earth until they died naturally? If they worked hard (fortunately, Meche knew the formula), they could get tickets on the Number Nine, but fifty years would be too long for those poor kids to wait; they'd give up hope.

"I wanted to ask what I have to do to be released eventually," she continued. "I feel better, but it's important that we're all sure, of course. Normally I'd guess if I keep behaving well and proving that I'm not going to have any more outbursts...but it sounds like it's not really your decision, is it? Sometimes the releases feel a little arbitrary, to be honest."

Wilson was glad that Maria could at least see reason when it came to that. A mental institute was no place for children, and this would also give her incentive to really focus on her rehabilitation. She seemed to be doing really well so far, but that was, of course, only Wilson's opinion.

He wasn't surprised when she asked about the process of getting released. It seemed like she had already pieced together how the system worked, but Wilson still let out a sigh.

"I agree completely. I take it there's some sort of panel that evaluates the patients, but it's not like they come asking for my opinion. It seems like they just let out who they want when they want. If that's the case, then..." What was he even doing here? But he couldn't say something like that out loud to a patient. He was supposed to want to be here and to want to help these people. He did want to help them, but the fact was that he always ended up feeling like he was just here for show.

If that was the truth, he'd rather be back with his cancer patients, where he did actually make a difference sometimes.

"...then what are we all doing with ourselves, right?" Meche finished sympathetically. "It sounds like nobody really got the full orientation around here. I guess we'll all just have to keep doing the best we can, huh?" Even though he was ostensibly one of the bad guys, she felt kind of bad for Dr. Wilson. Maybe he really was just a nice guy whose biggest sin was not asking enough questions.

What next? She couldn't ask too many questions herself--he probably wouldn't know the answers to most of what she really wanted to know, and if he did, he probably wouldn't tell her. Well, she'd pick a safe one. It might not help much, but any information at all was something. At the very least, it might impress Manny a little.

"Sorry, I just have one more question, and then I promise I'll be a good patient and get back to what I'm really supposed to be doing here." She gave him a smile. "Do you know the Institute's address? I understand we can send and receive mail, and I have some friends who'd probably like to hear from me. I just don't know what return address I should put, and I haven't had a chance to ask any of the nurses."

"Do the best we can," Wilson repeated back as he glanced off for a moment. "Yeah, I guess that's right." It was the sort of uplifting thing that House would have rolled his eyes at, but Wilson understood what Maria was getting at. They were all stuck in this situation for one reason or another, so they'd just need to cross their fingers that something they did would make a difference eventually.

At Maria's question, Wilson looked back to her, his eyes brightening when he realized this was something he should be able to help her with. "Oh, yeah, of course." He actually hadn't heard of patients sending out mail before, but it would make sense that they could. People could send letters from jail, for Pete's sake.

"Let me just..." He trailed off as he started looking through the different papers on his desk for an envelope or letter where the address would be noted down. When he didn't have any luck, he started to resort to digging through his desk drawers -- and still, nothing. How could he honestly not have one scrap of paper with the address on it?

"That's weird," he remarked to himself for than to the patient. "I'm sorry, Maria, but it looks like I don't have it on me right this second."

Meche didn't buy it. Not for a minute. How could he not have anything with the address on it? And even if he really didn't, was it his plan or Landel's?

There was always the possibility that they really couldn't send mail, but then what was a mail room doing on the map? That might be worth exploring one of these nights.

"Oh, well, thanks for looking. I'll just ask one of the nurses the next time I think of it," she replied easily. "That's one of the pitfalls of keeping your desk neat--as soon as I clean it out, I'm guaranteed to need the exact paper I just threw away."

Well, it didn't look like she was going to get a lot of answers here. Probably she should just be grateful that he hadn't made her shoot anyone yet. Meche looked to the doctor, refolding her hands neatly in her lap. What a saint, she thought. "Did you have any more questions for me, Dr. Wilson? I'm happy to talk about whatever will help."

Wilson was glad that Maria wasn't holding his ineptitude against him, but he really did have to wonder at how he had managed to misplace everything that had the address on it. Asking a nurse would work just as well, though (which once again caused him to ask himself what he was doing here).

When Maria put the conversation topic back in his court, Wilson took a moment to consider. They had gotten through a good deal of the woman's questions and it was getting late, but they could probably go on for a little longer.

"I guess for now, all I would like to know is if you've had any problems or concerns while here at the hospital. I don't necessarily mean about the people waiting for you outside, but..." He shrugged. It wasn't like he was a mind-reader. If she did have any problems, she would probably know what he meant.

"The worst part has been not knowing how my friend is doing," she began carefully. She couldn't say Manny's name; she didn't know his real name. Meche was being very good and cautious about all this, trying to think of anything else she could give Dr. Wilson, and then all of a sudden she heard herself saying something surprisingly honest.

"Aside from that...sometimes I feel really--" She shook her head, alert to the still-unfamiliar sensation of her hair swishing against her cheeks. "I don't know. Really--uncertain, maybe that's the word. I used to think of myself as a good person, but after that incident, I'm not so sure anymore. I start to think, maybe he really did take that out of me." She looked down at her hands. "Pretty tough to point a gun at someone and still be the good guy, right? And then I catch myself wondering, well, what's going to happen the next time I get upset?"

The incident she was talking about wasn't her encounter with Domino, but Meche had nonetheless hit at the heart of what was bothering her.

"It's not too often," she added quickly, just in case she'd managed to convince him that she really was clinically insane. "I've met some nice patients in here, and talking helps a lot. Maybe you just always have that lingering doubt."

Wilson hadn't expected to get so much out of the patient, especially since they had touched on a lot of points already, but he made sure to hear her out. He noticed the way she backpedaled, as if worried she had said too much, but nothing she'd said struck Wilson as too strange.

"I think it's better that you have that doubt," he carefully replied. "If you weren't thinking about what you did and being bothered by it, that would be much stranger." It was slightly worrisome that she didn't feel like she had control of herself or her emotions, but that was one of the main things she was going to have to work on while here.

"Your boss probably made you feel like you didn't have a proper hold on your life, and you went to an extreme in order to fix that. Now you just need to figure out how to regain that control in a healthier way. You need to make sure it doesn't happen again," he said, feeling confident about his advice this time. He really wasn't half-bad at psychoanalyzing, considering how often he practiced it with House.

"The next time you get upset, you should be aware of it. See how you deal with it. If there's something wrong with your response, then try to figure out how to correct that. That's about all I can tell you," he finished.

It wasn't a magic fix, but probably nothing was, Meche reflected. The real problem might be being sure whether her response was wrong. Objectively speaking, hurting a child was a terrible thing, but what if you could save someone's life with just a few scratches on a kid's arm? Or what if they'd threatened you, like those two just before morning?

Had she been having trouble because they were tough moral calls? Because she'd been brainwashed? Or because she really wasn't anywhere near as saintly as she liked to pretend she was?

"You're right," she said. "I'll watch myself. He came to visit last weekend, actually, and I was okay then--I mean, I wasn't thrilled to see him, but I didn't get the urge to hurt him, even when he got insulting." She gave a little shrug. "That's progress, I guess."

"That's definite progress," Wilson agreed with a firm nod, not wanting Maria to downplay her accomplishments. It probably hadn't been the best idea to send the man who had set her off in the first place to come see her, though if she had been able to handle it then it said a lot about her recovery.

Personally, Wilson thought she might be well enough to leave this place soon, but hadn't the two of them just been discussing how he really had no say in that sort of thing?

Sending a glance down at his wristwatch, Wilson realized that they were nearing the end of their time, which meant Meche was off to dinner and he was headed home for a nice, long weekend. "Well, I think that's enough for today, Maria. Thank you for being so cooperative and I'm... sorry I couldn't be more helpful," he finished with a sigh.

Meche couldn't see the watch face, but she knew a nurse would be outside the office, waiting to take her back to her room. Probably better that she got out of there anyway, before she could do any more damage to her reputation as a sane, level-headed woman who was never going to have another episode of rage in her life.

"Not at all," she replied, getting to her feet. "It's nice just to have someone to vent to. You helped more than you think you did." He'd told her a little more about her "real life," for one thing, and some new things about how the Institute operated. And--well...it had felt good to talk to someone, even if she couldn't be completely on the level with him either.

As she reached the door, she turned back to give him another quick smile and a goodbye: "Thanks. Have a good weekend." I really hope you're one of the good guys, she added silently on her way out.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Day 40: Doctor's Office 6 (Dr. Wilson) [Fourth Shift]

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject