damned_institute | Day 52: Doctor's Office 6 (Dr. Wilson) [Fourth Shift]

Entry tags:

england,
wilson

Day 52: Doctor's Office 6 (Dr. Wilson) [Fourth Shift]

While Mr. Rousseau (or Brook, as he liked to be called), had been a bit... eccentric ("kooky" was the more accurate, but less PC word), he had also been more or less harmless, and the session had gone as smoothly as could be expected. More than that, it had ended in a timely manner, giving Wilson the chance to have a leisurely lunch out on the patio. While he knew it might be better to befriend some of the other doctors (if he'd gotten to know Dr. Stein, maybe he could have figured out what Brook had been so spooked about), he ended up staying to himself.

Part of it was because he didn't want to get too attached to this place. He got fixated on people who needed to be fixed, and that was basically all of his patients here. While Wilson figured that his lack of experience and the terrible administration meant that he'd be jumping to return to Princeton-Plainsboro the second that Cuddy called him back, he did worry all the same. What if he couldn't disconnect?

So he tried to limit the people he met to his patients and he hoped for the best. Though for this afternoon, he was scheduled to meet two new people: one Oliver Queen and one Arthur Kirkland. Both of them appeared to have identity issues, judging from a quick glance over their files, but he was going to reserve his judgment until he met the two men for himself.

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Therapy. That's what the nurse had told him and England had been, well, displeased was a mild way of putting it. Two thousand years he'd lived, and he'd never once needed to see any kind of therapist. They were mostly charlatans in his mind, peddling snake oil to people who didn't know better. And really, who could possibly hope to give therapy to a Nation? With a few exceptions, humans had absolutely no ability to grasp exactly what that entailed.

The bloody woman didn't pay any attention to his rational and well thought out argument and just said that he needed to get better and this would help. Well, it certainly wasn't going to help his blood pressure was it? Heal the mind but give him a sodding heart attack in the process.

The area that the nurse brought him to wasn't familiar to him, so he memorised the route. Doctors might have more information about this place than the nurses. Perhaps getting back there at night would be of benefit. Or he could attempt to find out more from the doctor himself.

He entered the room, an impassive expression on his face, and scrutinised the doctor. He seemed young, not quite what he'd pictured of a psychiatrist. And the office was making an attempt to be homely. It wasn't convincing him though.

"Well, should we get on with it," he said sourly, "so we can sooner be done with this whole tedious charade?"

The man who walked in first turned out to be Arthur Kirkland, which Wilson was able to guess purely from his accent. Apparently, Arthur had some sort of complex where he actually thought he was an embodiment of a whole country -- the United Kingdom, to be precise. That probably won the reward for the weirdest patient for this week. Not that Wilson was keeping track (he would never!), but still, it did stand out.

It was clear from the start that Arthur wasn't interested in talking to him, but he wasn't giving him the silent treatment, so that was one good thing. He seemed willing to play along, but that was because he thought it was pointless. Wilson would just have to try and prove him wrong, or at least work him into a position where he opened up some more. He was pretty good at that, after being House's friend for so long.

"Arthur, right? If you hadn't noticed, my name is Dr. Wilson. But yes, I would like to talk to you, if you don't mind," he said with a smile and an open expression. "Or we can just sit here in silence for a while, but that tends to get boring pretty fast." If he presented it that way, most people found themselves willing to cooperate.

"Anyway, could you start with telling me a little about yourself? Whatever you're willing to share." He wanted to know if Arthur would be open about the whole England thing or not.

England gazed at the man impassively for several moments before going to seat himself on the chair opposite the desk, and folding his arms over his chest. He crossed one leg over the other and leaned back, every inch displaying how absolutely, thoroughly unimpressed he was with this entire situation. Doctors had never been his favourite people. This place was only making those sentiments that much more heartfelt.

"I'm sure that you have an awful lot of things about me written in that file of yours," he said flatly, but if you insist." He sighed, leaning back more comfortably in the chair. "My name is Arthur Kirkland," he began in a bored tone. "I'm English, quite obviously. I'm twenty-three and was born in York. I went to Oxford University and I work for the civil service doing things which aren't half as interesting as the tabloids would have you believe." And that covered his own cover story in case anyone in Parliament ever asked (they usually didn't), and there had been a few tidbits offered by his visit from... from Canada. "I have two brothers. Matthew and Alfred and it's all very messy in that regard."

And if he could get out of here right now, then perhaps he could finally call his boss. He hated not knowing what was going on.

When it came down it, the file was actually rather sparse. That wasn't so surprising, though; even with his normal patients, all you were really supposed to know was what their medical history was (back a few generations, generally) and if they were taking any medication. Sometimes depression came up (more often than not, with cancer patients) and that could quickly get personal, but nonetheless, the files were supposed to be the bare bones.

Granted, when dealing with a mental patient, it was more or less inevitable that they would start to talk about one's feelings, fears, and maybe even aspirations. What Arthur gave him was instead a very emotionless summary of his life, but what was more interesting was that he didn't mention the country thing at all.

"So... you just think you're a normal guy from England, then?" he asked while raising both of his rather thick eyebrows. The two of them seemed to match, in that respect. He was asking a leading question, but he wanted to see if Arthur would bring up the whole country thing on his own.

Demanding that he be released right this instant would probably be a bad idea, wouldn't it? A pity really. It would certainly get things over much more quickly. Some people might have considered him callous for so easily being prepared to abandon his fellow nations, but really, any of them would do the same. Their own people were more important.

Admittedly, he was a little concerned about this place existing anyway, but the need to know what was happening in the outside world was very strong.

He kept his expression blank and bored and nodded seriously in response to the question, sighing and leaning back in the chain. "Of course. What else would I be? Although no-one likes being considered normal usually, I'm sure."

"Some would argue there's no such thing," Wilson said with a small smile. And that was more or less the truth, wasn't it? He knew what House would have said. If someone seemed too normal, chances were they were hiding some deep, dark secret. Wilson would have called him overly cynical, though at the same time? He was usually right.

So the fact that Arthur here was playing dumb and acting like he was just another guy was pretty much a blaring siren. Especially considering he was currently in a mental institute. "Normal" people didn't get placed here, last time Wilson checked.

"That's strange, seeing how this file says something about you thinking you're the embodiment of a whole country." He wasn't trying to be arrogant or anything, but he also wasn't sure why the patient thought he could get out of here if he just acted like he was okay.

"I'm sure that they would," England replied, his expression never wavering. "It's a socially constructed idea that changes throughout generations anyway." He'd seen trends of normalcy come and go. The things that his people got up to nowadays would have been considered scandalous seventy years ago, and indicative of witchcraft a few centuries ago. He was good enough at feigning in any case.

The doctor's tone when he spoke next made England scowl. He hated being spoken down to, as though he were a child or somehow incompetent. And more than that, he didn't like the implication. They knew the truth, obviously they knew, but they were refusing to believe it and England had no way of contacting his boss or America's boss or any boss for that matter, who could get him out of this. "Whoever wrote the file was obviously very very bored if they came up with something like that. Or high. Perhaps they should be speaking to a doctor. Not me."

It looked like denial was the name of the game this time around, since even when presented with it as bluntly as possible, Arthur wasn't budging. That was fine, though. If he didn't want to talk about that, then they could easily move onto something else. Wilson closed the file casually and set it to the side, just to show the patient that he wasn't relying on that for this entire session.

What was strange, though, was how he had made a mention of generations in the same breath. Either he was passing himself off as a history buff, or he wasn't as good at hiding his own delusion as he thought. Wilson was going to brush it off rather than pointing it out, though, since he wasn't really looking to earn hostility from this patient.

"All right, so if you don't think you're here for that reason, then what is it? And let's go on the assumption that this isn't some huge misunderstanding that got you placed here by mistake." Because that was the reasoning he heard day in and day out, and he wanted to believe that this patients had learned better by now. Self-reflection was difficult -- Wilson knew that as well as anyone -- but if there was any time to do it, it would be while institutionalized.

England's eyes narrowed suspiciously when the file was closed and set aside, not trusting the motion in the slightest. Were they supposed to talk about his feelings now or other such rot? About perceived inadequacies or failings which might have landed him in such a place. Tiresome, how tiresome.

He thought quickly when the doctor asked about why he thought he was here. Personally, he rather thought that it was some obscene plot to bring down the world order as it stood by taking out the personifications of powerful nations, perhaps brainwashing them or moulding them into something else to manipulate the spirit of the people, but he wasn't going to say that out loud. "I'm sure I don't know," he said, sounding bored. "The staff seem rather adamant about not telling the patients anything which might be of help in recovering. I assume that since one of my brothers was here," he narrowed his eyes into a dark look, "that it has something to do with my family."

Wilson had more or less been expecting an answer like that. If the patients here knew why they'd been placed in Landel's, chances were their recovery would be that much simpler. But the battle was getting them to see what was wrong with them and then work toward a recovery, and with this bunch, that was basically as good as pulling teeth.

Still, he'd gotten an interesting tidbit even from that lackluster response. Hearing about family members always made a case more interesting, both due to the genetic link and the possible psychological effects siblings could have on each other while growing up and developing.

"Your brother?" he asked while shifting in his seat and then clasping his hands on his desk. "Would you mind telling me about him?"

Hmph, of course he would touch upon the 'family' issues. It was a safer topic than his being a country, but impossible to make humans understand how things worked between them. Their relations were far more... fluid. They had to be, coexisting with each other for centuries, longer even, conquering and warring.

"Alfred. He is obnoxious, loud, ignorant, clueless and immensely irritating. His brother is so much more pleasant to deal with. He's actually reasonable to deal with. But they're both... they both do what they think is right. Alfred just thinks that what is right for him is right for everyone else and damn anyone who thinks otherwise."

Just going off of that description, Wilson wouldn't have been surprised if Arthur's brother had some sort of textbook Narcissism going on. It felt like a ridiculous diagnosis to pin on someone who he was only hearing described in a few words, but considering the guy was currently considered deranged enough to be here, he didn't think it was completely out of hand.

Though what was more interesting was that Arthur then went on to mention another brother, but made it sound like he wasn't related to said brother. A half brother, maybe? It probably didn't matter too much, though, as they were focused on Alfred at the moment.

"It sounds like you two have had a tumultuous relationship," Wilson commented. "Had you seen him much before you were both placed here? And do you think you've been able to get along with him better here at Landel's?" Probably not, if the patient's tone was anything to judge by, but sometimes the strangest things could lead to mending a relationship. It was something to keep track of, at least.

Tumultuous. That didn't really even begin to cover it, considering their relationship had involved being at war with each other, a century or so of ignoring each other and only starting to be civil to each other in the last century or so. That was rather more tumultuous than most humans could manage really.

He shrugged dismissively at the question. "We see each other fairly regularly." Meetings where he refused to listen to anyone else especially if they disagreed with them. "And I can hardly say that we've been able to get along since he has apparently been released, but god forbid anyone inform me of this in a timely manner." Perhaps he was just a little bit bitter. And worried. Not that he would admit that.

At least their relationship wasn't at a point where they refused to talk to each other, then. Personally? He knew what that was like. Wilson was surprised to hear that Albert had already been released, especially if he had left his brother (younger or older?) here to try and heal on his own. It was possible he would come to visit when Sunday rolled around, but still, that must have been hard for his patient to hear.

"I'm sorry that you weren't told sooner. I didn't know anything about this, but..." Yeah, he was kept in the dark a lot. He was sure that was already obvious to most of his patients, and he always felt bad when they came to him with questions that he couldn't answer. It didn't seem like Arthur had expected him to know anything, though.

"How did you react, when you found out?" he asked, wanting to see if just getting a description of emotions would help him to better analyze the man's mental state.

No, England had quite given up on anyone 'knowing' anything by now. Either they were all idiots, or they were all lying, or perhaps a little of both. It wouldn't surprise him. The nurses were the worst. At least this man wasn't a bland silhouette in a uniform. It was cold comfort in any case. "When something happens to a member of my family, I like to know. But the nurses don't seem terribly concerned with doing anything to help the patients here at all. More with herding us around like we're small children." Really, was keeping them all entirely isolated the best way to 'cure' them? Surely grounding them in the supposedly real world would work much better.

He blinked at the question, lips drawing into a frown. How did he react? He'd lost his most valuable ally in this place. "It's an inconvenience," he replied, because he wasn't going to admit to anyone, even himself, if he felt anything more than that. "It's better if I know where he is." So the idiot didn't get himself into trouble.

While Wilson thought that the patient's comment about the nurses was a bit harsh, he wasn't really going to bother arguing with him about it. From his perspective, the nurses were overworked and were also probably being told to follow a certain criteria when dealing with the patients -- one that Landel most likely set, and Wilson was becoming more and more certain that the man was incompetent. He didn't know how to run a hospital properly, even if his security measures seemed top-notch.

But the answer that Arthur gave about his brother was pretty telling. He talked about it so clinically that it was obvious that there was more to it, something that he was trying to hide. And wanting to know where his brother was pretty much counted as being protective of him. But that was a good thing; caring about family was a natural response.

"Hopefully you'll get to see him again soon," he said with a small smile. "And was there anything else you wanted to talk about, or should we end it here?" He got the feeling that it would be the latter, but Wilson was surprised by his patients from time to time.

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Day 52: Doctor's Office 6 (Dr. Wilson) [Fourth Shift]

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