damned_institute | Day 46: Doctor's Office 3 (Dr. Kisugi) [Fourth Shift]

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Day 46: Doctor's Office 3 (Dr. Kisugi) [Fourth Shift]

The next session with Mr. Derringer should be an interesting one indeed, Makiko mused as she settled in her office for the afternoon patients. The groundwork was laid, after all, and now she knew exactly how to proceed. It was sad that she had to make preparations for such a sub-par specimen as he was, but - well, unplanned efforts had resulted in her seeking the transfer here, rather than staying in the hospital in which she once worked. Best not to repeat that.

Today's schedule, though, included two patients: one old, one new. Jordan barely interested her at all, but she did admit herself curious to see just how last week's talk had affected him. Such a fragile little thing he was, so easy to shatter. And as for Andrew...well, she saw little potential in the file before her, but supposed she could always have some hope. As long as the session didn't completely bore her, she could manage.

She set the CD playing with a light tap on the button, then turned back to the files for her next patients, reading through the pages as she waited for them to arrive. Words on paper did little to tell her about what kind of people they were, but what background she could get was useful, and she needed to review the notes from last week.

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Therapy. After talking to Soubi, he'd been feeling better. He'd even helped out that Yuna chick at second shift. But then that talk with Miku's roommate on the bulletin happened and Ritsuka's mood had plummeted. Miku was gone and now he had to go see that doctor. Ritsuka still didn't like her, even if he knew he had to talk to her because Muraki-sensei had left to pursue work elsewhere and he'd be disappointed if Ritsuka didn't at least try to talk his problems through. So would his real therapist back in Japan for that matter.

Groaning quietly to himself as he was led up to Kisugi-sensei's door, the boy took a deep breath and knocked once before his nurse opened it and let him in. "Have a good session, Jordan!" the woman called out cheerfully before shoving him in and shutting the door behind him.

Yeah, real convincing. Ritsuka could hear music playing and he turned slowly, regarding Makiko Kisugi coldly for a moment. Ritsuka was better today, save for Miku's disappearance. The mishap last night had turned out to be a good thing after the storm cleared because now, at least, he and Soubi were closer. Soubi was accepting in his own way, even if he didn't understand the full problem. At the very least, he was still here - unlike Alfons and Tamaki and now Miku.

Hanging near the door, Ritsuka lowered his gaze and bowed his head slightly since manners required he did.

Ah, and there was the boy now. Makiko looked up from the papers and nodded in return, then gestured toward the chair in front of her desk. "Good afternoon," she observed, pausing for the barest fraction of a second to glance down at the file before her before continuing, "Ritsuka. Please, have a seat. I won't bite."

That much was quite easy to promise, after all - he wouldn't be worth even the effort she was making for certain other patients. And he had said last week that he hated dishonesty, so she might as well tell him the truth. For the most part, at least.

If the doctors were anything like the nurses, then Ritsuka wasn't so sure Dr. Kisugi wouldn't bite. During the day, at least, she was normal, sure, but come nighttime, there were no guarantees. Ritsuka edged forward and flicked his gaze to the chair she indicated, still unsteady on his feet around her.

After a moment, he finally returned the greeting - a quiet 'good afternoon, Sensei' - and took his seat, sitting on the edge. Even if he was determined to make the best out of this, that didn't make sitting near her any easier. There was something quietly unsettling about her cold, business-like manner, but that was probably just because Ritsuka wasn't used to it. "...how are you today?"

"Fine, thank you." Makiko's tone today was crisp as usual, and she absently tapped her pen against the empty page in the file as she regarded the young man. Something was slightly different about him, but it wasn't significant enough for her to consider prying into it. He still wasn't worth any serious effort on her part. "And you? Have you considered what we talked about last week at all?"

She'd been momentarily tempted to pretend that she'd forgotten him after their last session, but dismissed it after only a brief moment. Even if she did manage to frighten him at all, he wouldn't have the savor worth the effort. Or the risk; she had to keep that in mind constantly now.

The same business-like tone that said her response was nothing more than a formality, reminding Ritsuka that she didn't care and likely wouldn't anytime soon. The tapping of her pen said the same. She probably had other appointments to deal with, and his was only a stepping stone to them. It was irritating, but he'd known that not all doctors were going to care like his therapist at home and Muraki-sensei. It just meant Ritsuka didn't have to care either and he recoiled slightly, sitting back in the chair, staring off toward the CD player.

As for her question? Yes, he had considered it. He had thought about her words, her intimidation tactics and their effect. When Soubi had momentarily rejected his existence, her words had come back - and now with Miku gone, they had bubbled up in the back of his mind again.

But this time, he had a new resolve. He and Soubi had overcome it, and eventually he would get Alfons and Miku and even Tamaki back. He had to or he would be crushed under the weight of his own doubts and fears. "Yes, but I still don't believe you. Not after this past week."

Fascinating, that - for just a moment, a brief instant that she might have missed if she wasn't paying attention, the too-sweet tang of him had lessened a bit as he spoke. Had she perhaps been mistaken about the boy? Did he truly have the potential to be something more than just the occasional annoyance of a patient who needed to be listened to? The idea was sufficient to pique Makiko's interest, though her expression remained outwardly unchanged.

"You don't believe which part?" she inquired, arching one brow slightly. "The fact that you're not Jordan? I would think that's obvious enough, given how very dissimilar the two of you are." The idle pen-tapping ceased, as she glanced down at the file on her desk. "Or the way that you drive away everyone who might want to care about you? Even your own mother wants nothing to do with you anymore, Ritsuka. Much less your friends here...."

There was another brief pause while she traced a fingertip along the text on the page before her, pursing her lips slightly as she read. "It seems you were acquainted with Alice Rhodes, were you not? She left without even bothering to tell you good-bye. After all, why would she want to bother?"

There it was again, the constant niggling at his weakest points. He hated that, hated how it made him doubt himself. But the jab about his mother was the most painful because he knew... Well, it wasn't true but there was a kernel of something akin to truth in there. Jordan's mother hadn't wanted anything to do with Ritsuka, but his mother wanted him back so desperately it was impossible to think otherwise. Maybe she didn't want him, but after experiencing the same thing with Soubi, Ritsuka had a better understanding of why.

"It's painful for her," he said, voicing his thoughts aloud as he lowered his gaze. "It hurts her to think she's been left behind; but that doesn't mean she doesn't want anything to do with me."

And then Alice. Alice Rhodes, the recently released Hinasaki Miku. Anger flashed through Ritsuka's eyes as he snapped his head up. "Don't you ever talk about her like that." Miku had left because she had to, like Alfons and Sousuke. She had lost so much and in the end, Ritsuka hadn't been enough to keep her, but that didn't mean she wouldn't have said goodbye if she had been able. He knew her better than that. He had to believe he did. "She's my friend - and I'm hers. Even if she didn't say goodbye, that doesn't mean she didn't want to."

"Does it make it easier for you to believe that, Ritsuka?" Makiko glanced up from the papers and regarded her patient steadily, with nothing on her face to indicate just what lay behind the question. He really was unusually intelligent for his age, even if in many ways he still acted like a child. "You excuse her behavior by claiming that she's only acting out of her own pain and fear, but you're simply masking your own feelings in the process. She's given up on you because you're not the person she wants."

The angry reaction made her other brow rise to join the first, her expression shifting to one of mild surprise, with a hint of chiding, as though he simply were an unruly child acting out. "Sometimes it hurts to hear the truth, Ritsuka. But if you refuse to face it, then it's impossible to ever allow yourself to heal." She leaned back in her chair again and shook her head slightly. "You don't have to recover, though," she added, after a moment. "Sometimes it's easier to stay weak."

Ritsuka grit his teeth and turned his head away. Everything she said sounded plausible, but he also knew it wasn't the truth. Not entirely. "She hasn't given up on her son," he snapped. "She'll never give up on him."

Even if they weren't the same person. He didn't need his mother to believe in him, to forgive and love him, because he loved her, unconditionally. He finally realized what it felt like to be forgotten, to be replaced in someone's mind, and he realized how much it hurt. It was a different sort of hurt than just being ignored or pushed aside. He understood now, how she felt, seeing someone she thought should know her and realizing they didn't.

"And no, I'm not the person she wants, but I still love her. She's my mother." He raised his eyes again, steeling himself against the doctor's hurtful words. "Even if she's given up on me, I'll never give up on her."

Never. Not on her or Alfons, Tamaki or Miku, Sousuke or anyone. It hurt to think that they didn't need him, and would no longer remember him, but he remembered them. That was what was important, right? He remembered them, even if they forgot him. He would remember for them, in photographs and words, however he could. And through it all, Soubi had remained. He had stayed when no one else had. "I'm not weak. I'm not sick. I'm different from how you all want me to be, but that doesn't mean I'm wrong."

The hunger was always, always present within, gnawing and insistent without ceasing. Makiko, however, possessed enough self-control that it only rarely got the better of her (though the times it had created a dangerous situation for her in her home town) and simply ignored its demands most of the time. She was capable of careful planning, of laying a careful trap and preparing her victim before they ever stepped into the web laid out for them.

Long denied, though, the hunger flared at the boy's resolve, his stubborn determination and denial of her words. She wanted, needed to lunge across the desk, show him true fear and watch him crumble beneath the weight of it. To taste it on her tongue, to feed on even the weaker offering he presented, always needing more, more, ever more and --

Makiko frowned just slightly, pushing to her feet to cover any outward sign of her inward struggle, and glancing for a moment toward the row of books behind her desk. "It's an easier path by far," she observed quietly, as though musing to herself, and managing to keep almost all of the strain from her voice, "to remain as you are. Weak and trembling beneath the weight of the world, hiding away with your flaws and fears. It's when you determine to change that you attract attention - only the strong people attract danger."

She turned back toward him again, her expression mostly neutral, but - there was something undefinable in her eyes, but something very, very intense. "When the rest of the world abandons you, Ritsuka, you'll be standing alone. All by yourself, because you pushed away anyone who might have cared about you." As she spoke she stepped forward, slowly, hands resting in the pockets of her white coat. "You'll persist in your conviction that you are right, but will that alone keep you warm in the cold winter of abandonment?"

Easier? There was nothing easy about the path he was choosing. He could have given in, tried to emulate the real Ritsuka - or even Jordan - pleased everyone around him and buried his new-found self away. He could have chosen the path of least resistance, lied whenever his mother asked if he was back to earn a hug and a kiss, even if it meant the pain would be worse later when she realized the truth. There was nothing easy in being who he was; standing alone once his brother had died, coming to terms with the fact that he was still alive, that the one person who had loved him as family had abandoned him as well.

"Remaining as I am is the difficult thing," he said, voice thin as he watched her get up and move about the room. The intensity in her eyes was frightening, almost as if she was a caged beast, watching him. And for a moment, he remembered the warnings. Warnings about Muraki and about her. People had said she was dangerous, that they were both dangerous, and yet Ritsuka had never had a problem with Muraki. Maybe he'd just been lucky. "I don't hide. I have never hidden and I never will."

Because even if Alfons left, even if his mother abandoned him, even if his beloved brother turned his back and Miku left without a word, there was one person who would remain. "You're wrong." There was always one person who he could lean on, someone he could trust. "I'm not alone." And not just one, more than that. Yuiko, Yayoi, his teacher; even if they didn't stay, that didn't make their friendship any less. "The world isn't as you dictate."

Ritsuka stood as she moved forward, hands in her pockets, not wanting to back down, but feeling something instinctively dangerous about this situation. "...I think our session is over, Kisugi-sensei."

"For now." Makiko's lips parted just slightly, baring teeth in what might have passed for a smile had there been anything of warmth about her expression. She took another step forward, closing the distance between them and just a little into his personal space - just barely, just enough to make most uncomfortable. "Now you have someone with you. But time will tell. They'll leave you, one by one, just like your brother did. Turning on you, just like your mother did. In the end, it will be just you."

Her right hand lifted from the pocket, swiftly reaching out to take hold of his upper arm as the not-smile widened a fraction. "You," she repeated, with a hint of laughter lacing her words, the most emotion she had allowed into her voice so far in their sessions together, "and me."

Humanity's ancestors had been prey animals. Ritsuka liked history enough to read back as far as prehistoric times once. He remembered reading that man had been the weakest, slowest, least deadly of beasts in those times - save for their minds. Their minds had allowed them to create weapons and fire to keep away greater, stronger predators that would have consumed them otherwise. The instinctual fear of predators was something that had never left the human race, even long after they had moved off the plains of Africa and the Eurasian continent and into the steel towers of their garish cities.

All of that information poured back into his mind, like a soothing drug to steel his nerves as Makiko moved around her desk, came far too close to him - far too close. The way she smiled wasn't right. It wasn't normal. It was... predatory.

"No, he won't. He won't leave - it won't be--" His words choked off in his throat when she grabbed his arm, causing him to jerk back. The grip was solid, however, and unless he fought her harder, he'd have a hard time getting away. She almost seemed to laugh as she spoke now and Ritsuka felt the hair raising on the back of his neck. "Let go of me! What's wrong with you?!"

"Oh, Ritsuka. You persist in lying to yourself, despite how much you insist on 'honesty' at all times." The hand about his arm tightened all the more, fingers digging into his flesh with bruising force. "They'll all leave you because you're not strong enough to stop them. Your weakness overwhelms you, and in self-defense, you lash out. You push them away, you become...someone they don't want."

Makiko leaned in a little closer, eyes fixed on him with unblinking intensity; she was a predator indeed, the perfect predator, having shed her humanity in favor of something more. And now his fear, impelled by the primal impulses that recognized danger and flooded the system with chemicals to recognize and react to it, was surging ever stronger and more intense. The hunger within screamed to life in response, transforming the doctor's neutral mask into her true self, smile widening with unholy glee.

Her free hand emerged from the concealment of her coat's pocket, thumb flicking off the cover of the syringe she'd been holding, and with one swift, smooth movement she buried the needle into the arm she was holding captive and depressed the plunger. "You should be accustomed to being left behind by now, but yet you persist in believing." Once emptied the syringe was discarded, dropped to the floor, and her hand lifted to cover his mouth as she leaned in closer still. "When everyone forgets you, all you'll have left are empty memories. Images on paper that capture nothing."

"I'm not--" Pain cut off his words this time and his eyes snapped to where her fingers were digging into his arm. This wasn't normal. This wasn't safe. He had to get away. The only problem was the way she held him, the way she stared into his eyes, it froze him to the spot. His mind was spinning in a mad dash to get away, but for some reason his limbs weren't responding.

Shock. It was shock to his system. Fear so great that it was interrupting the logical part of his mind as it tried to send signals to his hands and feet. All he needed to do was calm down. It seemed so simple and yet he was panicking, incapable of doing anything but staring up at Makiko with a growing sense of dread.

The doctors weren't supposed to hurt them, right? He had thought so. He'd never-- Muraki is a murderer and a rapist. The words suddenly stood out, a burning white against his mind and he realized that maybe they did hurt the patients here. Maybe they weren't even safe during the day. "Let go! Get your hands off me!"

He began to struggle now - his mind pushed into action by the simple desire to survive. He twisted and turned, but he couldn't get free. And a moment later he felt something thin and hard stab through the flesh of his arm and he screamed. She was drugging him. She was drugging him for some reason, still spouting that nonsense advice, and now a hand was over his mouth, cutting off his cries for help. His eyes turned on her, wild with fear and the realization that she was as much his enemy as the man behind the intercom. But with that realization came the resolve to survive this and he turned, wondering why his limbs were starting to feel sluggish, scrabbling at the hand that covered his mouth, trying to pull it away.

The fear she could sense from him was intense, intoxicating, as tempting to Makiko as the sight of a wounded animal to a hungry wolf. It was difficult not to lunge in now, rip him apart, bury her face in his flesh and devour it all until there was nothing left, lick his skull clean of every last tantalizing drop of fear-laden chemicals. Not yet not yet not yet not yet, she chanted silently, watching with a critical eye as his movements became slowly more uncoordinated. Not until just the right moment.

She laughed softly, low in her throat, as she pressed back, pushing him toward the chair again. He'd managed to get off the one scream; if the nurses had heard they'd be at her door shortly, so she'd not have the time to properly savor what she had before her, but at least she'd have something. And at just the right moment, when his limbs were too heavy to fight back, but before he was too insensible to know what was going on. To feel the fear she craved.

"Oh, Ritsuka. If only you'd listened." Her voice was something between a purr and a growl now, as she carefully removed her hand from his mouth once more, dipping into her pocket and this time coming up with a scalpel. "But now I suppose I'll find out. Once you're gone - will anyone really remember you?"

Why wasn't his body responding correctly? He tried harder to pull away, to push at her hands and arms, to kick his feet and use his legs for leverage against her superior strength, but they weren't doing what he asked. His hands took more than a few tries to find their marks and his legs were beginning to feel weak. His mind was moving slower, like it was getting stuck in tar - pulled down by the weight of something unnatural invading his system.

Whatever drugs were in that syringe, they were starting to take effect.

And if they did, he might never wake up again.

She pushed and Ritsuka fell back into the chair, stumbling as he tried to catch the chair arm to keep himself upright and failed. His nails scraped against it, dragging through the material as his back hit the chair with a heavy thump - heavier than it should have been. Her hand moved away from his mouth, but he couldn't get it to work right enough to yell again. Confused and disoriented, the only thing he knew right now was the flash of metal and the shape of the scalpel rising up.

I'm going to die. Soubi, I'm going to die.

Striking wildly forward, Ritsuka squeezed his eyes shut, trying to push her away or hit her or-- no, not hit her. He could never hurt another living creature, but...maybe to get her to leave. Something. To survive. "Let...go... Stop..."

That was it. There. Now.

Whatever blows the boy might be able to land could hardly hurt her; even if he did get in a lucky strike, she'd heal quickly enough, so she paid it no mind as he yet struggled. It was no threat, only a sign that his fear was overtaking him, forcing him to try to survive against one such as her. Her grip on his arm loosened briefly, shifting to bring his forearm up closer to her, and all the while her gaze never left his face.

Makiko brought the scalpel up, resting the cool metal of the blade against his flesh for a moment as her hand trembled with the effort of restraining herself, of making only a small incision instead of rending and tearing as the raging hunger within demanded. But the cut she made was small, traced almost delicately along the vein, although as soon as the blood welled up her mouth clamped down, eyes half-closing as the fear she'd sensed washed over her tongue.

The flavor was tainted somewhat by the sedative she'd been forced to use, but it was no matter. The boy she'd previously disdained had proven to have more strength than imagined, and for a moment, at least a moment, she'd be able to quench the fires of her craving, drowning it in the rich, bittersweet tang.

The pain should have been sharper. His eyes traced the scalpel cutting into his skin, dragging through layers of tissue until it hit the vein, and he knew it should have hurt more. Which was precisely why he felt his heart rate skyrocket. It should have hurt more. That he couldn't feel the pain as it should have been indicated that the sedatives or poison or whatever else she had stuck in him was making its way through his system. He'd be unconscious soon and the thought of being incapable of fighting back, helpless, in her office, where no one could see them, terrified him.

Her mouth covered the wound and he flinched, trying to pull away, but only succeeding in slouching further down in the chair. She was drinking his blood like some vampire. Draining him of his life force from an artificial slit in his arm. The logical part of his mind said that she was the sick one, the one who needed help. But the part of him that still feared her, feared what would come next, pushed those thoughts away and he kicked with one leg, trying to turn away, even as he felt darkness coming over his vision.

It was long before her hunger was fully sated that Makiko finally stopped, but it was dulled, satisfied for the moment at least. She pulled away, absently licking a smear of blood from her lower lip as she watched the blood ooze sluggishly from the cut, pooling briefly on his arm before trailing down and dripping onto the floor. His fears were fading as his consciousness faded, leaving him less and less interesting with each heartbeat, and she finally dropped the arm she held and regarded him as he drooped in the chair.

After a second's consideration, she reached over and gave the chair a shove, toppling both it and the boy onto the tile floor. She picked up one of the pencils from the jar on her desk and dropped it beside him, then moved to answer the door as one of the nurses began to knock. Apparently she had heard something, and was coming to check; Makiko schooled her expression into a proper mask of concern, pausing at the door only long enough to allow the woman entrance before returning to her patient. "He's usually so calm," she observed, crouching beside him to press a hankerchief against the wound as the nurse fussed over the both of them. "I'm surprised he'd act out this way. No, no, I'm fine...but some rest would do him good, I'm certain...."

If nothing else, the staff here were quite efficient; in a short time a pair of orderlies had arrived to carry the unconscious boy off to get his wound treated, and Makiko watched them go, outwardly quite calm while inwardly she focused on the lingering taste on her tongue. Next week - well. That should be an interesting session indeed.

Christ. Therapy. Ken hated therapy. He'd considered acting out, before realizing that it would only make the nurses sedate him and send him on his happy-ass way--then he'd be drugged and sitting in a God-forsaken doctor's office.

He wasn't headed to the same one he'd had last time, that was all he knew. He barely paid any attention to the name on the door. Kisugi. Well, whoever it was, it didn't matter. Ken only intended to cooperate enough to get through this bullshit, get through the day. God, was it almost over already?

He was left with an admonition to 'be good,' something which irked him incredibly--he may be crazy, but he wasn't a child--and a door shut in his face.

'Well, here we go...'

"Ah. Mr. Witte." Makiko glanced up from her papers, absently closing the file on which she'd been adding some notes and settling it onto the pile to one side, placing it there with unusual precision, lining up the edges without really seeming to pay attention to what she was doing. "Please, have a seat."

She could all but taste his fears heavy on her tongue, bitter and sweet both, an odd tang that mildly intrigued her. Only mildly, but it seemed that was the best she'd get this afternoon, sadly enough. She pushed down the disdain, though, only gesturing toward the chair in front of her desk before opening the file for her current patient.

"I prefer Ken, if you don't mind," Ken returned. "Mr. Witte is my make-believe father." He preferred to stand, really, but this was going to be far too long and drawn out for his tastes. He moved toward the chair, watching the doctor and his surroundings--everything was very clinical, arranged, it set him slightly on edge.

Well, he was pretty much always slightly on edge these days.

Generally speaking, Makiko wasn't inclined to indulge the bizarre delusions that seemed to have been collected in one place here. However, this afternoon was proving to be fairly tedious thus far, leaving her just bored enough not to argue. "Very well, then," she replied, then added in a slightly clipped tone that left the quotation marks around his name almost audible, "'Ken'."

She flipped a couple of pages in the file, as though she hadn't already read it over well enough to be certain of its contents, and picked up her pen once more. "I'm Dr. Kisugi, as I'm sure you'd already guessed. I'll be your therapist here at the Institute. Is there anything in particular that you'd like to begin with?"

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Day 46: Doctor's Office 3 (Dr. Kisugi) [Fourth Shift]

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ffffffft it's my turn I FAIL

NO WORRIES

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