damned_institute | Night 53: Disciplinary Therapy Room 2 [M-U for Elle Bishop]

Unlike most patients, this set-up would likely be familiar to Elle Bishop. Or so the doctor had assumed, at least. Even when she was only a child, she'd been examined and tested for her ability. Taking her back to those days probably wasn't the nicest of things to do be doing, but the doctor also didn't get paid to be nice.

Fully outfitted in a suit that would guarantee that her electricity would do him no damage, the doctor watched the girl's sleeping face pensively. They didn't usually allow patients to use their abilities during sleep studies, but Elle could be called a special case. Something had gone wrong with her ability -- something that the institute itself wasn't responsible for. If they corrected it, she wouldn't necessarily be back to her full power, but she would have that control.

If they could alter that, she would become far more useful in the long run.

While the walls of the room looked normal enough, they would also be able to withstand whatever wattage she released. With any luck, she would fall back into the patterns of forcing her own power to the brink, but if not? Then there were ways to persuade her to do so.

The doctor reached out and ran a gloved hand through the girl's hair. "Come on now, Elle," he said, sounding almost fatherly. "It's time to wake up."

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This was what she wanted, wasn't it? In a roundabout way. Landel's wasn't Pinehearst-- or what she imagined Pinehearst was going to be like-- by any stretch of the imagination, but it was serving the same purpose. The doctor was still offering to fix her. Elle should have been happy.

The next memory triggered on her flashback reel was of Claude. As soon as she was fired and tried to run away to England. He'd tried to lecture her then. It's okay to be angry at him, Elle. It's also okay to forgive him. You just need to let it out.

But Claude was wrong and it was stupid. She didn't need to let anything out. Letting it out was what she was trying really hard not to do right now.

"No." But she was still quick to deny any kind of problem, even in the face of someone who could probably help her. She didn't want to open herself up to a stranger. She could still work it out on her own. There was still time for it to go away on its own. Maybe.

It was only to be expected that Elle would be difficult, but the doctor wasn't going to resort to torture just yet. Even though he had the buckets of water prepared, he'd give her one more chance before forcing her hand, so to speak.

He pulled away from the table, starting to pace around as he spoke. The girl didn't have much in the way of movement, so she wouldn't be able to watch him or keep track of where he was going; that was enough to put most people on edge, even if he didn't plan to do anything at the moment.

"Something changed, Elle. You used to be so good, so in control. You could fry someone down to the bone, to the point that they weren't even recognizable." He paused for a moment, turning to face her. Letting the silence weigh between them for a moment.

"What happened? Why are you so weak now? You must know why." He shook his head, almost sounding disappointed. "And as long as you hide from the truth, you'll never be that good again."

As if having some weird doctor knowing intimate details of her life wasn't enough, having him proclaim them to her as a disembodied voice was even more unsettling-- as if things could actually be any more unsettling.

"I can still do that," she was quick to respond, in a tone was was both overly defensive and exasperated. Elle tried to crane her neck to follow the way he was circling her like some kind of vulture, but it was a futile effort. "You're lucky you're wearing that stupid suit, or you'd be one of the fried people."

You'll never be that good again.

That was the part that stuck with her. More than any of the other things the doctor had said, that was the sentence that resounded in her head. So what if Claude was right. Maybe it was some kind of … holding onto her daddy issues and not being able to forgive herself … thing. But she wasn't talking to anyone about it. Not here, and not with the doctor, no matter how much he tried to pry or poke and prod her. Even if he could help, she didn't want to be that vulnerable. Pinehearst would have made it easy. There would have been some drug for her to take, some Haitian pill or something, and that would have magically fixed everything.

"Gee, I wonder what happened. My dad just died, how am I supposed to feel? Like throwing a parade?" Shouldn't he already know? He knew everything else ...

Even if she claimed that she still had the same amount of power, he knew for a fact that that wasn't true. Elle's own problem aside, the institute had dragged her down to a more manageable level, and that wouldn't be changing. But they could at least try to get her to a point where she only released those volts when she chose to, rather than this unrestrained setup she had now.

He only scoffed and shook his head when she tried to threaten him. He was well aware of how she could hurt him, but she was in no position to now -- nor would she ever be. Those people who had tested her as a child had remained untouchable, and he would as well.

But then she said it. Then she touched on the very thing that he'd been waiting for her to bring up. Maybe it wasn't quite time for the physical torture after all. He turned back toward her, pulling close enough again that she'd be able to see him.

"Exactly," he said, his tone more forceful, like a scientist who had just stumbled on some sort of breakthrough. Though in this case, it was completely psychological. "Your father -- the man who caged you up like an animal and prized you for what you could do rather than who you are -- he's finally dead. You're rid of him!" He flung his hands back to make his point.

"And yet instead of feeling free, you're lost... to the point that you can't even keep a hold on the one thing that you've always taken for granted. Explain that to me."

"I'm free." Even through all her fear and pain and uncertainty, she found the strength to flash the doctor a defiant, "fuck you" kind of smile. "I'm more free than I've ever been. This was the best thing that ever happened to me. You know what I did after getting fired? I went to England. And it was awesome."

She was just rambling. Inane rambling meant to build up her defenses, make herself feel better, and distract from the sparks that were threatening to crop up again.

It was exhausting. She couldn't keep doing this like she had been. Not like she could at home. Then she could go on and on with her self-destructive electrical hate spiral and not even break a sweat. But here it was different. She wasn't ready to give out yet, but she was feeling the burn. In more ways than one.

The first thing she wanted to do was argue that she wasn't taking anything for granted, that the doctor was wrong, wrong wrong wrong, Elle decided it was time to show him. Show him before she was rendered completely unable to.

Things were harder when her hands were restrained, but she still managed to emit a reasonably large blast of voltage toward the doctor. She wasn't that optimistic, but there was still a part of her that hoped she'd burn through all his protective gear and fry him.

It was odd to hear anyone say that the death of a parent was the best thing that had ever happened to them, and yet the doctor wouldn't be surprised if there was some truth to it. Before Bob Bishop's death, Elle had been like a caged animal, only let out when she was given a rare chance to "prove herself." And yet he wondered if anyone could eat out of someone else's hand for that many years and not feel something after that person was dead.

And then she started again, sending a blast of lightning that was clearly aimed at him. The doctor was forced to close his eyes against the brightness, and while he could fear the pressure of the volts around him, there was no pain.

He stood there in silence for a moment before glancing to the computer monitor again. That one had been stronger, and she'd controlled it. This was working, at least to some extent.

"So you have no regrets about leaving a life that had been all you'd known for years?" he asked with a tilt of his masked head. "None at all?"

Night 53: Disciplinary Therapy Room 2 [M-U for Elle Bishop]

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