This fic popped into my head fully formed so to speak. I like 'what if' fics that twist canon. This is what this is. It's completely AU though the canon characters belong to Dick Wolf et al. The term 'sharp scratch' is a safe word for me when i need an injection or blood taken. It helps me to prepare for what's about to happen and relaxes me (i'm severely needle phobic)
What if it wasn't Frances Goren at Carmel Ridge? All thoughts and reviews gratefully appreciated. All errors are my own.
Sharp Scratch.
"Sharp scratch" the quiet feminine voice was as familiar as breathing to him. He felt the cool sting of the antiseptic wipe against his skin and the sharp but tiny bite of pain in his upper arm. He tensed against it; he may have even flinched a little bit. He felt fingers brush briefly against the sore spot and then the sleeve of his t-shirt was being rolled down.
His scattered thoughts began to find some semblance of order amidst the usual chaos. It created order but on the other hand, the world around him became dull and slow.
He thought that if he were a good boy then he wouldn't have to have the sharp scratch any more. And he was good. He did as he was told, co-operated where necessary and was polite and good-natured for the most part. He tried to stay calm, even when it was especially hard not to. Those were the times when the darkness in his head grew and festered and brewed until a black rage would erupt. He knew that when that happened, they would take him somewhere quiet and lonely and he would go to sleep for a while. And when he was asleep, no one would talk to him.
The sharp scratch helped to keep the voices quiet. He lived for the day when he wouldn't need it to keep them silent. Maybe when that happened, he'd be able to leave here forever. He often thought about that day happening, if ever and it was precious to him.
"You have a visitor today" He smiled. He loved to receive visitors.
"Is it Eames?" he lifted his head hopefully and looked at the blonde nurse, he noticed how her dark brown eyes sparkled when she smiled.
"It's not Eames, it's your mum again" He tried to place her accent, it was either British or Australian. He frowned and looked away. He was having trouble recognising it.
"Okay" His voice became subdued.
"Don't you want to see her?" he lifted his head again and smiled vacantly.
"Yes"
Frances lifted her head when the door opened. She smiled and got to her feet when she saw him standing behind the nurse, towering over her as he towered over everyone else. God only knew where his height came from; it wasn't as though she or Bill had been especially blessed. Even Frank wasn't excessively tall. One of his doctors thought that it might be a genetic fluke and a few had expressed a worry that if one his rages blew out of control then he could seriously hurt someone one day. So far he hadn't. She cast the thought aside as he came towards her, his precious folder clutched to his chest, a shy smile on his face.
"Hey sweetheart" she greeted softly. She watched him put the folder down onto the table between them and come around. They embraced.
"Hey mom" he replied and they sat down. Immediately he reached for his folder and opened it. His doctors allowed him the folder on the promise that it was checked regularly for contraband of any description. It came almost everywhere with him, almost like a security blanket. He turned his attention to the yellow writing pad and he extracted his pen and began to write. Frances watched him as he wrote. His script was small and scribbled, almost illegible.
"How have you been today?" she asked him.
"Okay" he replied, still writing. She'd asked him more than once what he was writing but all that he would say was 'just notes mom, just notes' in a distracted manner.
"Alex sends her love, she hopes to come by and see you next week sometime" that got his attention and he lifted his head and looked at her.
"Did she follow that lead I gave you?" his expression became intense. Frances just regarded him, not sure how to answer him.
"I don't know honey, I think she's still working on it" she told him instead. He seemed to give her answer some thought
"Oh" he sighed and then went back to his almost manic scribbling. Then he paused again as a thought seemed to occur to him.
"What about Frank? He's not stealing your money again is he?"
"He doesn't steal my money…" she sighed. He dropped his pen and swung in his seat to look at her, his expression defensive, a little annoyed.
"He's sneaky mom, you gotta watch him all the time. More than likely he's at the track or sticking it up his arm…"
"Bobby, he's a scientist, he makes enough money. And he doesn't go to the track, he doesn't take drugs…" Bobby began to shake his head.
"You don't know that mom…you're not with him all the time, you don't know what he…gets up to…"
"Sweetheart, your brother is fine. Alex is fine too" the frown deepened and she moved closer to him and placed a finger over his mouth.
"Please. No more. For me?" He sighed in irritation.
"Otherwise you'll have to go back to your room and I won't be able to visit you next week or bring…Eames…." She lowered her arm.
"Okay…okay…but…"
"Ah…what did I tell you? No more Bobby, not another word!" And he lowered his head, suitably chastised.
The visit was over far too quickly and Frances thought her heart would break when his nurse appeared to take him back to his room. He hugged her tightly and picked up his folder. She watched him leave the visiting room, feeling as though her heart would shatter in her chest.
She thought about him constantly, during her long hours in the local library she would stack the shelves in the children's section and remember the times when she would sit with him and read to him. He seemed to cling to every word spoken to him. He possessed to such a vital, vivid imagination. She had great hopes for her youngest son. But she had begun to see the signs when he turned fourteen. His moods turned incredibly dark and he would veer from deep dark introspection to wild, manic highs. He became paranoid, suffered tumultuous rages and she lost count how many times he trashed his room. His father hadn't been able to cope and walked away from them before he turned sixteen. That had sent him into a tailspin of raw pure emotion and his symptoms manifested themselves more violently than ever. By the time he was eighteen he was completely out of control, even after countless visits to doctors and psychiatrists, nothing could be done and it was with a heavy heart that Frances Goren had her youngest child institutionalised.
She sat in Doctor Shimo's office and stared out of the window. The sky was iron grey with threatening rain. Outside it was still warm and that could only mean one thing, a storm was brewing. She hoped to God that she was wrong because Bobby hated thunderstorms; they literally drove him out of his mind. She had witnessed him curl his big body into the tightest size possible and tremble and shake as lightning flashed and thunder roared. He covered his ears with his big hands when the rain rattled off the windows and sometimes he would scream as if in agony until the weather quieted and the storm passed. If it promised to be a bad storm, he would be sedated.
"How do you think Bobby was today?" Frances turned her head and looked at his doctor. She thought for a moment or two.
"A little distracted. He's started warning me about Frank again" she watched him frown deeply.
"Do you think he's building up to another crisis?" Frances regarded him and then shrugged.
"Maybe. It's happened before" she muttered.
"He wants to leave here eventually" the doctor continued and saw the look of surprise Frances sent him.
"Do you think that'll happen?" It all depended on so much, getting his medication right, trusting him to take it regularly, making sure that he could cope outside of the institution he'd spent the last twenty years in and out of. So far, he'd been here constantly for the last ten.
"Right now? I don't think so. But it's something to work towards" Frances sighed then.
"We've talked about this for years Doctor Shimo, I think we both know that it won't happen, at least not right now" The doctor nodded in agreement.
"Could you cope with him at home again?" Frances wanted to tell him that of course she would; he was her son. But in the ten years that had passed, her health wasn't what it used to be. Regretfully she shook her head and swallowed against the lump in her throat and fought back fresh tears.
She left his office as the first rumble of thunder vibrated through the building. She glanced up at the ceiling. Oh great. All around her she heard the patients react, low moans, animal like howls, the staff were going to have a busy few hours ahead of them. She paused and turned, in time to see Doctor Shimo emerge from his office.
"Doctor Shimo" he turned and looked enquiringly at her.
"I need to see Bobby"
"I was just on my way to see him" and he held out an arm for her to accompany him.
There were a couple of male nurses outside of his room. Frances felt her stomach dip.
Frances followed the doctor into her son's room. She saw his nurse standing by his bed and her brown eyes were wide. Bobby was wedged in a corner of his room, staring at her with wide, frightened eyes.
"We came to sedate him," she explained.
"She's going to kill me! She's got you all fooled, she's not who she says she is!" Bobby exclaimed. The nurse looked at them both, her expression regretful.
"He's been calling me Nicole for the last half hour and he won't let me near him" Frances sighed quietly. She and the doctor exchanged a look.
"Let me talk to him" she requested.
Her big tall son with all of his fears and all of his demons was reduced to this. She remembered the shy little boy with the inquisitive brown eyes and the never-ending questions. She remembered the way he would look at her; how he would bring a book with him, crawl onto the sofa beside her and ask her to read to him. She remembered feeling his warm body snuggled up against his as she did so and she remembered their conversations during their shared chores when he would talk about becoming a soldier and serving his country. But instead he was reduced to this.
"What are you doing here?" he stammered as she walked towards him.
"I'm here to see you," she answered as calmly as she could. She wanted to cry instead. He stared at her in confusion.
"How did you get out of the hospital? You…you shouldn't be here" his eyes were wide.
"Baby…" she whispered. He was so, so scared, he was trembling.
"She…she's trying to kill me…Nicole…is trying to kill me!" He exclaimed, pointing over her shoulder.
"That's not Nicole honey, that's Elizabeth and she takes care of you," she gently reminded him. He shook his head frantically.
"No…no…she's smart…she stole her identity. Her name is Nicole Wallace and she's…very dangerous…mom…" his expression was so earnest that for one brief shadow of a second, she almost believed him. With a shaking hand she reached up and caressed his face, cupping his cheek, her thumb brushing his cheekbone. Tears slipped out of his eyes and dampened her fingers.
"Darling…you're having an episode…you're not well. Let Elizabeth help you, let Doctor Shimo help you this time" she beseeched. He stared at her and she could almost read his thoughts. He genuinely believed everything that he claimed. It wasn't the first time he'd made these claims. At the same time Elizabeth came to stand on one side of her whilst the nurses came to her other.
She watched Bobby watch Elizabeth, heard her murmur "sharp scratch" and then inject him with the sedative. She moved out of the way as the nurses moved in and caught him as the soporific effect of the drug took hold and his knees sagged.
It was pouring with rain when Frances left the hospital. The storm raged on above her in all its rage but it was nothing compared to the one battling inside of her. The tears she shed mingled with the rain that soaked her. No one would see her cry, she was determined about that. No one had seen her shed a tear over her poor boy and they still wouldn't. He needed her to be strong for him and by God she would be.
She sat in her apartment and stared into the cup of coffee she had cradled in her hands. She sighed heavily and got to her feet. She had to call Doctor Shimo again and see how Bobby was doing. She glanced at her watch. She'd call him in the morning instead. She turned her head when she heard the key in the lock. The door opened and Frank appeared, accompanied by Alex.
"Hey ma" her eldest son greeted warmly and went to her, kissing her cheek. She smiled absently and looked at her daughter in law. For some reason, when Bobby found out that his sister in law was a cop, he was drawn to her. A strange calmness would come over him when she visited and he would stare at her and Alex Eames Goren, to her credit was unphased by it, and took it in her stride.
"How was Bobby today?" he enquired as he shrugged off his overcoat. His mother didn't immediately reply and he knew that today hadn't been a good day.
"It was the weather wasn't it? He hates it when it storms" Alex interrupted, walking towards her. Frances just shrugged.
"He had another breakdown?" Frank enquired and it was all Frances could do to nod. She then turned and went to her purse from the coffee table. Both of them watched her open it and extract two or three sheets of lined paper, folded in four. She sighed and unfolded it and looked at it for a moment. Then she handed it to Alex and watched her look at it. She lifted her head and looked at her.
"That's what he writes all day," Frances explained. Alex looked back at the paper.
'sharp scratch, sharp scratch, sharp scratch'
FIN