I've imagined this story ever since I watched "Don't Hate the Player," and now it's finally happening!
Warning: This story may be triggering, especially for those who deal with dissociation or have had traumatic psychiatric treatment. Please don't read this if it will trigger you!
Disclaimer: I don't own Warehouse 13 or it's characters. They are the property of Jack Kenney and NBC Universal. No copyright infringement is intended. No money had exchanged hands in the writing or publishing of this work of fiction.
Claudia awoke groggily, trying to figure out where she was. She couldn't move, and everything was bright and loud.
"Miss Donovan?"
"What's happening?" She shut her eyes, the brightness being too much for her.
"You were having another delusion."
Claudia's eyes snapped open. This couldn't be happening. This had to be a dream. Yet, there was Dr. Michener. She couldn't hold in her scream of terror as she shut her eyes quickly and willed herself to wake up from this nightmare. She felt a sting in her arm, and then began to feel dizzy and sleepy. She screamed once more before succumbing to sleep.
For a moment, she thought she heard someone's voice.
"Steve? Is that you?"
No one answered.
When she awoke again, she opened her eyes hesitantly, afraid of what she would find. She wasn't in her room. In fact, she wasn't in the B&B at all. There weren't any white walls in the B&B. Was she in the Warehouse? She tried to move, but she found that there were sturdy cuffs holding her wrists to either side of a hospital bed. There was no furniture besides the bed, no sharp corners, and no decorations. There was a large plexiglass window that faced a hallway, a barred window that faced a brick building, and an open doorway. Everything was sterile white.
Suddenly, a man with scrubs on came in.
"Hello Claudia, how are you doing today?"
"What the hell am I doing here?" Her voice was trembling.
"In the psych ward?"
"Yeah."
"Are you having memory lapses? Maybe I should talk to Dr. Michener-"
"No! No, I'm fine. I remember. I was just... wishing I wasn't here."
"Yeah well, you can't really leave at this point. Dr. Michener has you on suicide watch."
Another pang struck Claudia in the chest.
"Can you take these cuffs off? I'm not freaking out anymore."
"Let me check with Dr. Michener."
"Okay."
The orderly left, and Claudia swallowed, trying to get rid of the lump in her throat. Twenty minutes later, Dr. Michener came in. Claudia couldn't help but tremble.
"How are you doing, my dear?"
She fought the urge to vomit.
"I'm okay."
"You were very agitated yesterday. We haven't had to use sedatives of that strength in quite a while with you."
"I just… had a bad day."
"How about we talk about that?"
"How about you take these cuffs off me?"
"Don't be belligerent. It doesn't suit you."
Claudia gathered herself for a moment, then, as calmly as she could muster, said, "I would feel much more comfortable and safe if you would take the cuffs off. They are making me anxious."
"I believe you left a word out."
"Please," she said through her teeth.
"Better." Dr. Michener took his time undoing the leather cuffs. When her wrists were finally free, Claudia rubbed them, wincing.
"Claudia, I'm going to set up a treatment for tomorrow. I think it would benefit you."
"N-no."
"You haven't been progressing as quickly as I'd like, and I think having more frequent treatments would help with that."
"I don't want any more ECT treatments."
"I know. But you always feel better after you have them.'
She didn't respond, but she couldn't stop herself from shaking.
"I'll leave you for now."
Once he left, she got up from bed.
"Crap." She paced the room, trying to figure out what artifact could send her back to the hell that was her life before the Warehouse.
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