The Good Doctor (Jonathan Crane / Scarecrow)

VI.

Her head throbbed insistently when she finally came to.

The scratchy sheets were stained with her sweat, her eyes red and swollen from crying, though she couldn't immediately recall why.

She had no reason to speak in the otherwise empty room, but had she done so, she would have found her throat raw from the time she had spent screaming.

What the hell had happened?

She remembered her aunt's house, a rickety old ranch style home, engulfed in flames. No matter where she went, no matter what door she opened, flames leapt from behind each turn.

It had been dreamlike, but at the same time, too lucid to have been a fantasy. She had felt the flames licking at her skin and smelled her own hair as it burned. The feeling of burning as she tried to escape the house had been all too real and tangible.

As her fingertips grazed over her flesh in the present however she found it devoid of any scar tissue, smooth and unmarked. Similarly, her hair seemed to be entirely entact.

No matter how it had felt, it had not been real.

She leaned against the cool cement wall, allowing her eyes to fall shut as she sighed. It was difficult to keep the tears in as she tried to process everything that had happened as being an illusion.

Even after she was able to calm herself down, the question of why she had been put through it in the first place still remained.

She couldn't see an angle from which sending her on what felt like a bad acid trip would be particularly beneficial in a clinical sense. Perhaps it had merely been an adverse reaction to the drug. She couldn't be sure with no one there to question on the matter.

She couldn't be sure how much time passed before he visited her cell. The windowless room provided no way to gauge the passage of time, giving her the impression that anywhere from a few hours to a few days may have passed before she heard the locks click.

In walked Crane, wearing a different but undeniably similar Oxford shirt and tie; perhaps it had been an entire day, after all.

"Hello, Astrid. How are you feeling?" he greeted her formally. He placed a tray of asylum issued food on the table.

She glared at him through the slits that had become her eyes. She couldn't understand the way he waltzed into the room and asked after her as though she'd merely caught a common cold rather than having been put through hell.

"What did you do to me?" she barked, unmoving from her position on the bed. She wanted him no closer than absolutely necessary, flinching as he took a step in her direction.

"I need to check your pulse," he explained, careful in his steps as he approached her.

He grabbed her wrist gently but clinically, his fingers pressed against her pulse point. He stared at his watch in silence, timing the beats.

"Normal," he concluded, releasing her from his grasp.

"Any headache, blurred vision, shortness of breath?" he asked, taking out a pocket light to shine in her eyes.

She squinted hard at the light and smacked his hand away; she was done with being kept in the dark. If he was going to attempt to keep her there, she wasn't going to give in to it easily.

"I'm not answering another question until you answer mine," she stated in a level tone. It was difficult to project an air of nonchalance, but anger had thus far gotten her nowhere.

"I injected you with a serum that unlocks certain portions of the brain, triggers the release of specific chemicals and hormone responses," he elaborated dully, as though no such thing was owed to her.

"It was like being in hell," she seethed, "literally in hell."

"It isn't meant to be a particularly pleasant experience," he offered, shrugging his shoulders.

"So how is this s'posed to help me, anyway? See how long it takes to give me a heart attack?"

"The first time is intended to gather a setting. I need you to describe for me what you saw," he asked, although it did not sound much at all like a request.

She was quiet for a long moment before describing to him the scene that had played out in front of her, growing more visibly upset as she detailed the nightmare she had found herself emersed in.

He listened with rapt curiousity, that marking first time she could detect any note of interest in his expression when she was speaking.

When she had finished her tale of horror, he merely stroked his chin with his thumb and forefinger, pondering one thing or another.

"This information has been most pertinent to your treatment," he deduced calmly. "It will be beneficial to tomorrow's session."

Her face paled, eyes widening at the words.

"You want me to do that again?" she whispered, too frightened by the possibility to speak any louder.

A ghost of a smile crossed Doctor Crane's lips.

"We're going to do it again, and again after that if need be, until we get the results we desire from the treatment," he explained.

"What 'results' are you looking for?" she asked, biting back tears. The prospective answers he could give clouded her mind with terror.

"You'll know when we arrive there," he answered, as cryptic and nonplussed as ever, before making his exit and leaving Astrid alone with her thoughts once more.

-

As he strolled up the corridor, he produced his pocket tape recorder, languidly taking his time with each step as he dictated the notes he would later type up in the privacy of his office.

"Patient seems largely unaware of the purpose of the trials," he mused, checking his reflection in the surface of an observation window he passed.

"Analysis of hallucinations infer a strong desire to escape home life and a self imposed sense of powerlessness. This type of scenario offers a near perfect starting point to force a manifestation of the patient's alternate personality, if such a thing is present," he continued, "or to cultivate one if such a task is possible."

He fumbled for the keys in his pocket, turning one in the keyhole and calling down the elevator car.

"At this time, it is my professional opinion that approximately eight weeks of therapy will be required to achieve these goals."

He could only hope his analysis was correct.

✖ ✖ ✖

Thanks to all of you for the continued support! We're moving quickly into deep plot, but this bit of filler was needed to flesh things out just slightly.

Please don't forget to comment! I appreciate every read and vote, but I can't deny that I love hearing from you!