A/N: So, yeah, this will be a patient/therapist-but-not-really fic with Kurapika being the patient and Chrollo being the therapist-but-not-really, but that won't come for like a long time. Like, it takes Chrollo eight years just to start seeing her as more than a little sister/test subject. Also, there's a lot of mental illness stuff to come, so if you're squeamish about that sort of thing, I suggest not reading.
Alice, I am:
"Momma," Kurapika had asked her, right after her first lapse, "is there something wrong with me?"
Yuka had glanced her daughter's way for a split second, before cleaning off her hands. Drying them off on a bright blue towel, she turned back to Kurapika. "Of course not, sweetie. What makes you say that?"
The little girl shifted uncomfortably. "At school today, I saw a bunny in class, but no one else saw it. And when I tried to catch it, it disappeared."
"A bunny?" she asked, a little bit of humor in her voice as she kneeled down in front of the girl.
The girl nodded fervently. "And everyone said I was crazy! Do you think I'm crazy, Momma?"
Her mother chuckled, kissing her daughter on the forehead and bringing her closer. "Of course not, sweetheart, you're just as sane as the rest of us. And even if you were crazy, that wouldn't change anything."
"It wouldn't?"
Yuka shook her head. "You will always be our little Kurapika."
She couldn't be blamed for believing those words. Yuka had been certain that nothing could change them. Nothing could take her daughter away. They'd always be mother and daughter and she would always be able to reach Kurapika. Her baby girl.
. . .
Kurapika let out a little yelp. She was ten now, and the hallucinations came once a day, sometimes lasting an hour, sometimes a minute. The doctors told Yuka to send her to a hospital, but she was convinced it would pass.
"What is it, sweetheart?"
"Blanc bit me in the toe again," she replied, showing her foot. Her stocking was still pristine white, but Yuka knew she saw blood.
"And what does Blanc have to say for himself?" Yuka asked, remembering the doctor's advice. Denying the existence of her reality might prove dangerous.
Kurapika frowned a bit, nose wrinkling. "Don't be silly, momma, mice can't talk."
Yuka smiled. "Oh, you know me. I'm a silly goose."
The girl put her hands on her hips, a disapproving look on her face. "Penelope finds that rude, Momma. She's a goose and she's not silly at all."
"I'm sorry, Penelope," Yuka called, putting away a few kitchen utensils, not noticing the way Kurapika's eyes glazed over when they fell on the large, steel kitchen knife.
"That's alright, Momma," Kurapika chirped, hugging the woman, head buried in the fabric of her loose, red blouse. "Penelope forgives you."
She stroked her hair, lovingly.
"Ah, I'm glad, love," she said, feigning relief.
Kurapika suddenly unraveled herself from her mother, disappointment carved on her delicate face. "Oh, they went away. Do you think they'll be back tomorrow, Momma?"
She patted down her golden locks. "We'll see, Pika. We'll see."
"Momma?"
"Yes, darling?"
"Have you ever lied to someone?"
Yuka froze, and then smiled reassuringly. "Not on purpose, no."
Kurapika grinned, her hands clasped behind her back. "That's what I thought. You're a really good person, Momma."
"I'm glad you think so, sweetheart."
For now.
. . .
Yuka awoke to whispers one night.
"Are you sure? Mom said we shouldn't play with them ever," Kurapika said, her hushed voice proving useless in this instance. "Oh? Alright. I'm heading down the stairs now. Hey, what are we going to do with them once we get them? Isn't that dangerous? Ow!" Yuka flinched, already crossing the threshold. "Okay, okay, I get it! I'll get them. What do we do if we get caught, though?"
Kurapika sneaked down the stairs and into the kitchen, Yuka followed behind. Perhaps, it was nothing. Just a figment of her imagination again, nothing dangerous. Maybe, she just wanted to get one of her puzzles from the cabinet.
"Kurapika, hon -" Yuka's words were cut off by the flashing of a blade and wide, brown eyes. Her daughter, her little girl, and a kitchen knife grasped it her hand. "Kurapika, put that down!"
"No!" she said, clutching it to her chest, hand accidentally slipping down to the sharp end of the blade. She dropped it to the floor out of reflex, and it was a miracle that she hadn't dropped it on her foot. Blood dripped down her little girl's palm and onto the marble tiles, and the thin thread Yuka held onto for the past year snapped. She couldn't protect Kurapika. She couldn't stop her from destroying herself.
"Momma?"
Yuka was crumpled on the floor now, her cheeks stained with tears.
"Momma, what's the matter?"
Broken sobs bubbled up from her chest. So many months of fear and frustration and desperation let go in one moment of defeat.
"Momma, are you mad? Penelope says she's sorry."
"They're not real, Kurapika," she whispered.
"Momma?"
Yuka wrapped her up in her arms, not paying any mind to the blood for the moment. "None of it is real."
"Yes, it is. I can see it and touch it, so it must be. Right, Momma?"
The knife still gleamed in the moonlight near their feet, and Yuka brought her daughter closer, as if to shield her from the object.
"Momma?" Kurapika started, breaking through a head-throbbing silence. "My hand hurts."
"Right." She let her go. "Let's go patch it up, okay?"
Kurapika nodded, taking hold of her mother's hand with her uninjured one. The woman led her to the bathroom and opened one of the glass cabinets, scavenging past the pills and extra shampoos and toothpastes, until she came across a small bottle of antiseptic.
"Rinse off your hand for me, Kurapika."
Kurapika did so, and her mother busied herself in finding a few cotton balls and bandages. Yuka slowly dabbed her wound dry and then applied antiseptic. Kurapika winced, but she was used to it by now. She regularly scraped her knees and elbows by running too fast, or not looking under her feet, possibly because she was always too distracted by her own little world to pay any heed to theirs.
The bandages wrapped around her palm slowly, blood caught somewhere in the white fiber.
"I'm sorry, Momma," she said, remorseful. "I made you cry."
Yuka shook her head, brushing her cheek. "No, Pika, it's not you. I was just a little sad. that's all."
"You don't have to lie to me, Momma," her daughter said, hands on her hips. "I'm eleven years old now."
"I know, sweetie."
"Then, what made you cry?"
Yuka's forehead contorted as she forced her eyes to stay obedient. Still, her voice cracked. "I had a thought. A really bad thought."
"A really bad thought?"
"I was worried that I might have to send you away to someone who can take care of you better than I."
Kurapika giggled. "That's silly. No one can take care of me better than my Momma."
Oh, how Yuka wished that to be true, still.
. . .
"What do you mean you can't accept her as a patient!" Yuka shouted, and as she stood, the chair behind her nearly tipped over from the force. Damn, these people made her so angry!
Pavi put his hand on her shoulder. "Darling, please."
She sat back down, her foot tapping the floor furiously. Useless. Everyone here was useless. Damn, what she wouldn't do for a good doctor right now. One that could help her daughter, no, cure her. Damn. Damn. Damn.
"As I said before," 'Dr' Yorkshire said, "we cannot accept patients with psychotic disorders of her level. We don't have the expertise. The nearest hospital is in Liverpool, and it's not the best. If you really wanted to get your daughter the help she needed, you'd be willing to send her overseas to get that help."
"You don't understand!"
"Mrs Kurta," Dr Yorkshire sighed, removing her round-framed glasses and rubbing the bridge of her nose. "There is nothing else we can do. You could send her to the hospital in Liverpool, they might not give her the help she specifically needs. You either keep her close or let her go. The choice is yours."
Of course. Always dropping the hard decisions on someone else.
Yuka stood up, eyes brooding. "I'll have to think about it more."
"I understand, but please, keep your daughter the priority when making the decision."
Yuka walked back out to where Kurapika was told to stay put. She'd asked the receptionist, a friend of hers, to keep an eye on the little girl while they were gone, but she'd be lying if she said she didn't feel the least bit anxious while she was separated from her daughter.
She froze in the threshold dividing the Dr Yorkshire's office and the lobby.
There was a boy talking to her beloved daughter. A boy, about sixteen years old, with pale skin and a fringe that covered his forehead completely. He wore a suit that made him look far more professional than most other kids his age and slightly downturned, dark eyes that seemed to reflect the light of the room like mirrors.
But that wasn't really caught her off guard.
It was the fact that her daughter was talking to him. Her daughter, who was usually so shy and guarded, was talking to a perfect stranger.
Kurapika peered over the boy's shoulder and her face brightened.
"Momma, dad!" she ran up to them and was promptly picked up by Pavi, who carried her as they went to investigate this strange boy who had decided to strike up a conversation with their daughter.
"You two seem to be getting along quite well," Pavi started, polite as always, though there was a clear threat in his voice.
The boy stood up promptly. "Chrollo Lucilfer, sir. Psy. D."
Pavi raised an eyebrow. "A doctor? At such a young age?"
"Ah, I doubled my workload in school. It's not something I would recommend to anyone else."
So charming, Yuka thought. No wonder Kurapika immediately warmed up to him.
"Mr Lucilfer is super smart!" Kurapika praised, excitedly. "Penelope thinks so, too. Not Blanc, though. Blanc doesn't like him. Do you know how I know?"
"How do you know?" Yuka asked, feigning wide-eyed curiosity, as she leaned in to have Kurapika whisper in her ear.
"Because he hasn't bitten his toe yet," she whispered. She started to sing then, though it wasn't a song she knew. Something about stars and swords, sung in a voice that showed it wasn't from a memory, nor was it being made up, it was something in between. Something from another side of reality.
"She has a lovely voice," Chrollo commented.
Kurapika giggled and sang, "Thank you!"
"You're very welcome, Miss Kurapika."
"So, Chrollo, what do you do with those impressive credentials," Pavi asked, warming up to him now, though he was still cautious. Pavi was always a little wary of strangers.
"Ah, I recently opened a House for Psychiatric Patients in Canada. I inherited an estate there that's been doing quite well for my patients. Many have shown progress already."
IT WAS DESTINY!
She glanced at her husband, saw he still had reservations, and pouted. Her little girl seemed on board, though.
"That sounds amazing!" the girl chirped.
"Do you want to see some pictures?"
Kurapika nodded fervently. "Yes, please!"
Chrollo took out his smartphone and showed her an image of a gorgeous, sprawling house with white columns and a wrap around balcony in the front. The walls were made of pale brick for the most part and the snow blanketed the lawn and the trees in white. It reminded Yuka of one of those old country mansions that all the rich men used to own and all the period romances seemed to make use of.
"It's so pretty!" Kurapika squealed. "Isn't it pretty? It's so pretty!"
The boy grinned and flicked to another photo. "Here are some of our patients."
A young girl, around Kurapika's age, with light brown hair and a wide grin, faced a little away from the camera as if just noticing Chrollo was there. There was another photo of a woman in a light pink dress, her face had a gray pallor to it and her black hair was frizzy, but she had a small smile on her face as well. There was a girl with pitch hair and round glasses that covered half her face, a silver cross hanging from her neck.
"Wah, I'd like to meet them!" Kurapika sighed in longing.
Chrollo pocketed his phone, chuckling. "Perhaps someday."
"Really?"
He nodded, reaching into his coat pocket and pulling out a sleek, black business card. He handed it to Yuka, saying, "this has all my contact information. Give me a call if you ever want me to give Kurapika a tour."
DESTINY!
Pavi's face disagreed.
. . .
It took about a week for them to relent and call Chrollo once more, after a short conversation with Dr Yorkshire discussing his credibility. The woman said he was fairly new in the field, but that he was also skilled and his results were promising. It would still be overseas, but his services were free and he often paid his clients' travel fare. Where he got all that money, no one knew, but they assumed he probably was born into some wealth.
"Hello?" the boy answered, voice distracted.
"Um, this is Yuka Kurta."
Silence. How rude. He'd already forgotten her name.
"Kurapika's mother?"
"Ah yes, I'm sorry, I have a tough time remembering names sometimes. Are you calling to schedule that tour?" he asked, politely, though there was an air of expectancy tucked away in there.
"Not exactly," she admitted, scratching her cheek in that nervous habit of hers. "I'm actually calling to ask if you would mind admitting her into your Home?"
She heard a book snap closed. "I see. Describe her disorder to me."
She answered immediately, as if unable to defy his orders. "It's undifferentiated schizophrenia. We don't exactly know what it is. It doesn't fit into one category."
"That's a problem indeed. Give her to me for a week. I'll see if I can help her recover. I'll give you an estimate of how long she'll be staying afterwards."
"Oh." Finally, some clear answers. "Okay. Thank you. When do you want us to arrive?"
"Immediately, if possible," he replied. "I will pay for your airfare. How's the 4:00 flight sound?"
"Great, Kurapika and Pavi should be back from shopping by then," she replied. "Oh, one more thing."
"Yes?"
"How will you handle her education, if you do decide to keep her for a longer period of time?" She wouldn't allow Kurapika to simply not go through some sort of schooling.
"We have professional tutors here that teach all our clients whatever subjects they wish to learn, and required subjects to our younger ones," he reassured. "Don't worry. I hire only the best of the best."
"Alright, then. We'll be there!"
"I'll pick you up at the airport."
. . .
Kurapika and Pavi arrived about two minutes later, Kurapika singing one of her made-up-but-not-completely songs, Pavi trying to keep up as best as he could. Yuka picked her little girl up in her arms.
"So, how was the shopping trip?"
Kurapika lifted the little package in her hands. "I bought you chocolate Momma! And . . . and . . ." she reached out towards the bags her father carried. "I bought . . . a cupcake for Blanc, and a book for Penelope. She can't read very well. I mean, I don't think she reads at all, but . . . but I thought she'd like it, you know? Because it's . . . it's about geese and she's a goose."
Yuka felt her heart clench, as if someone had taken their hand and squeezed that muscle to hell. As an act of rebuttal, she held her daughter close. "Oh, I love you soooooooo much!"
"I love you too, Momma!" Kurapika replied, throwing her arms around her neck.
You might not in a few seconds.
Yuka let her down and kneeled down in front of her. "Kurapika, do you remember Chrollo Lucilfer from last week?"
She nodded. "Uh-huh! Chrollo . . . Chrollo was really nice to me. When can we see him again?"
The mother smiled. "Well, how's right about now sound?"
"Now? But how?"
"He just paid our airfare to his town. He's picking us up at the airport," Yuka said, every fiber in her being screaming painfully for her not to go through with what she's about to do.
"So, how long will we . . . stay there?" Kurapika asked, hands behind her back now, as she tried to contain her excitement.
"We'll be staying for a week," she replied.
"That's it?" Kurapika whined. "I thought we could take a real vacation."
Yuka tried speaking, but the words were caught by the lump in her throat. She swallowed thickly, coughed a bit, and spoke in a hoarse voice, "we'll be leaving after a week. You might stay there without us a little longer."
An eerie quiet trapped them, broken only by the sound of the wind outside. "What?"
She placed her hands on Kurapika's shoulders. "Sweetie, we're going to have to separate for a while. Mr Lucilfer will take good care of you, I promise."
"But I . . . you said we'd always be together."
"I know, sweetheart, and we will, but for now we can't be as close as you want us to be."
Tears started to form in her eyes, streamed down her cheeks, leaving stains over her pale face. She tried to wipe them away on the sleeve of her jacket, muttering, "liar, liar."
"Pika," Yuka said, reaching out to hug her, but the girl slapped her hands away.
"Liar!" she screamed, lunging at her. Yuka backed away out of instinct, as Pavi grabbed onto his daughter.
"Kurapika, calm down!" he ordered, his normally soft voice raising just a tad.
"Liar! Liar!" She shouted, lashing out with her hands and feet. "You promised! You're just a liar! I hate you!"
'That's alright,' Yuka thought, 'you don't have to like me. You just need to get better, so we can be together again soon."
. . .
In the end, Kurapika fell unconscious. It happened sometimes. She would get so worn out by an episode that she'd probably fall asleep afterward. They packed up her things in a solemn silence. Pavi was upset with her as well, she could tell. She hadn't consulted him when she'd accepted Chrollo's offer.
"It's for the best," she finally spoke. "She can't stay with us. We can't help her."
"And you think he can? He's only a child," Pavi replied.
"No," she replied, folding one of Kurapika's pajamas and carefully placing it into one of the black suitcases, "he's a lot more than that. He can help her. I'm sure of it."
. . .
"We have three seats for the four o'clock plane to Montreal," she told the agent at the airline desk. "They were reserved by a Mr Chrollo Lucilfer."
"Ah, yes," the woman said, eyeing the sleeping girl in Pavi's arms with amusement. "Mr Lucilfer called earlier to let us know." She pulled out three boarding passes. "You're ready to proceed to the security area. Have a nice day."
"Thank you," Yuka replied, taking the tickets. Her eyes widened at the words printed on it.
First Class
How rich was this guy to be able to afford three first class tickets for three strangers?
Yuka passed the next half hour wondering where he got all this money, and then why he was so invested in her daughter. He must be a really great person. Indeed, she wouldn't entrust her daughter to anyone else.
"Candyfloss are tasty," she heard the girl mutter in her sleep. "Fluffy."
Yuka sighed. She was really going to miss her. No, she couldn't be selfish. Chrollo would surely let them meet up fairly often.
The stewardess had led them to the first class seats, which were all blocked off from the rest. She opened the door to their reservation. There were two couches lined up near the windows, separated by a rectangular table that could be pushed back into the wall.
"Woah."
"Would you like to order something?" the stewardess asked, a few menus in her arms. "We've got a wide array of foods and beverages to choose from."
Yuka flipped through the menu. "I'll take two hamburgers, a plate of ravioli, and a large serving of fries. Oh, and this iced green tea over here, with a straw and one of those little umbrellas that people put in cocktails." She turned towards her husband. "You want anything, hon?"
"I'm good," he replied. Besides him, Kurapika stirred awake.
"Candyfloss," she murmured, eyes squinting as the afternoon sun blinded her. "Gah, the sun god is angry again."
"Would you like to order something, darling?" the stewardess asked, handing her a menu. Kurapika backed away and ran to her mother, grabbing her arm and glaring suspiciously at the woman, who just smiled back as if nothing had happened. "I'll take that as a no."
The stewardess left them then, and Kurapika loosened her grip on Yuka's arm. "I don't like her."
"C'mon, Pika," Yuka said, making the girl face away from her so she could braid her hair. It would get tangled otherwise, and besides, this might be the last time they got to be like this for a while. Kurapika's hair went a few inches past her shoulders, straight, blonde locks like her mother's.
"Momma?" Kurapika asked. "Are you and dad really going to leave me with Mr Lucilfer?"
"Mr Lucilfer will take care of you."
"But I don't want to go with him," Kurapika murmured.
"We'll see after a week. Who knows? You might like it there, and we'll visit all the time on the weekends. It'll be like staying at grandma's house."
"I definitely won't like it there," Kurapika said, resolute.
. . .
Chrollo was at the airport as promised, decked out in a suit with a hand shoved in his pocket while the other held a phone to his ear. He hung up as soon as he caught sight of them, a slight, serene smile on his face.
"Right on time," he said, as they approached him. Kurapika had locked her hands around Yuka's arm again, refusing to let go. They stopped, and Kurapika hid behind her, probably glaring at the boy, who simply gave her a curious gaze. "My car is right outside."
They followed him to a sleek, black limousine. The driver, a cheerful blond man with bright green eyes, stepped out.
"Hi-ya!" he greeted. "I'll be your driver for today."
For a second, Yuka felt Kurapika loosen up, but only for a second, and then she was back to that stiff, suspicious guise she'd worn since the plane ride.
"And this is Miss Kurapika?" the man asked, slouching down to be on the same eye level as the girl. Kurapika frowned, distastefully.
"Penelope doesn't like you."
The man feigned hurt, fake tears brimming in his eyes as he clutched a hand to his heart. "My dear, you hurt me. I bet Penelope really likes me better than you."
"She does not!" Kurapika shouted. "Right, Penelope? Penelope?" The girl suddenly sprinted off, stumbling this way and that along the way, heading for the open, busy road.
The little girl was pulled away from the edge and into Chrollo's arms before the others even had time to move.
"You're a regular little troublemaker, aren't you?" he sighed, the girl still trapped in a tight embrace. Yuka sighed.
"Put me down! Penelope's on the other side!"
"She'll catch up with us, I promise," Chrollo replied, handing the little girl over to her mother, "but right now we need to keep moving. Don't you want to meet the people in the pictures?"
She pouted, asked her mother to put her down because she was not a child anymore and could walk on her own, and climbed into the limo. Chrollo sat down beside her, and she turned her nose up and slid into the seat across from him. The boy just held back a grin, clearly more amused than offended.
"We already have a room ready for you," Chrollo said. "It's got a view of the lake and mountains. We can go ice skating on that lake later, and Paku makes some of the best hot chocolate in Montreal."
"Momma makes the best hot chocolate in the world," she replied, defensively, arms cross and face brooding as she swung her feet up and down.
"We can have a contest later, then," Chrollo laughed. "We'll see who wins."
"Momma will definitely win. Don't waste your time."
Chrollo bowed his head, a laugh escaping his lips.
"Stop laughing! I - I'm serious!" Kurapika screamed, standing and pointing at him. The limo suddenly halted, and Kurapika tipped over into the seat beside Chrollo.
"Are you alright?"
She slapped his hands away, and then continued to slap him. On the arm, the hand, the shoulder, she even managed to land a hit on his cheek. Throughout it all, he just smiled, face half-turned away as he attempted to catch her hands, but she was too fast.
"Kurapika!" Yuka scolded, though some part of her was laughing as well.
"Blanc doesn't like you and neither does Penelope!"
"I thought she said I was smart," he reminded.
"She changed her mind!"
Yuka felt a bit of her anxiety fade. Chrollo could handle her little girl. They'd get along just fine.
. End of Chapter .