Head in the Oven
A/n: I apologize for the crappiness of this. I was tired. Reviews would be lovely. Enjoy!
Disclaimer: I do not own Feeling Electric; Tom Kitt and Brian Yorkey do.
Natalie sat with her back up against her bedroom door. She felt sick- the pit of her stomach churned. He hadn't been out of his room in three days, hadn't been out of the house in two weeks. She didn't think she could live like this.
At sixteen, she'd been forced to grow up much faster than she wanted to. Her mother had left, Tweak had followed her. Natalie's father had started having hallucinations and was no longer in his right mind. He'd attempted suicide. Natalie was left in charge, was left to pick up the pieces.
She let out a ragged breath. She knew where she needed to go, knew the place where she could release the feelings of tension, fear and worry. The place she took her father every two weeks, the place her mother had gone before she had run off.
To Dr. Madden's office.
Quietly, trying not to disturb her father's restless sleep, Natalie went outside and got in the car. It was raining, like it was always raining in Seattle, but she didn't mind getting wet.
As she drove, the rain seemed to get harder and harder. Her stomach curled more tightly as she realized she had left her father alone in the house without any one to watch him, and plenty of things to commit suicide with. She made her body relax, telling herself that he was probably asleep. Still, as she pulled into the parking lot by Dr. Madden's office, she felt like she was going to puke. She parked, then climbed out to the car unsteadily, her knees quaking, when it hit her.
"Stupid," she muttered to herself angrily. "Of course he's not here. He's probably at home, asleep, just like you should be."
Still, something made her go up to the tall building and try the door. It was locked, but then she remembered the tree outside his window. He was on the third floor, something that had stuck out in her mind because of that Schoolhouse Rock song, 'Three is a Magic Number'. She remembered hoping that three was a magic number, that Dr. Madden could help her father better than he had been able to help her mother.
The knot in Natalie's stomach made her bold, and she grasped a branch on the tree firmly, despite it being slippery from the rain.
She climbed, and finally got to the window of his office. Leaning carefully, she found his window to be unlocked. Opening it, she climbed inside and shut the window gently behind her.
The office itself was pitch black. Natalie began creeping around quietly. What the hell was she doing here? If she got caught, they'd probably put her in jail! He probably wasn't even there, and yet she felt he had to be there, like he couldn't go anywhere else because there was nowhere else for him to go.
Unsure what to do now, she went to the door, opened it, and went out into the dark hallway. She froze suddenly when she realized water was running in the bathroom down the hall.
Curious, she cautiously approached and tried the door. It was unlocked, and as she opened it, a frightening and yet fascinating sight met her eyes.
Dr. Madden sat on the toilet seat, fully clothed, rubbing his arms and crying. He froze suddenly as Natalie stood there, mouth wide open.
"H… hello," he said, hastily wiping his eyes. "Uh… how… how can I… you're Dan Brown's girl, aren't you? Natalie, right?" Madden seemed totally out of it, like he'd just woken up from a three-year coma. He stood up quickly. "Here, we'll go to my office and we can talk." He grabbed Natalie by the wrist, and that was when she saw the soft pink scars running along his arm.
"Oh my God," she said. "You're a psycho treating a bunch of psychos."
"What?" he asked suddenly, alarmed, then followed her gaze to his arm. "Oh, oh, those," he said, hastily letting go of her wrist and rolling his sleeves back down. "Uh, yes, well… uh…" he paused, let out a shaky breath and sighed. "I suppose you can relate in that respect, right? You know what it's like to work day in and day out with nuts, slave with them, to try to help them, to no avail. It's an unforgiving job," he said bitterly. "And one most of us would rather not do."
Natalie nodded. "Fuck yeah," she said.
Madden's head jerked, as if he had been in a dream all this time. "You… you understand, don't you?" he asked. Natalie nodded. He sighed wearily. "Thank you…"
Those late night visits became weekly, and Natalie, as much as she hated to admit it, began to feel a certain kinship to Madden. They spent many hours talking, or even just sitting together. Sometimes Madden would rave about certain patients, and sometimes Natalie would vent her frustrations about her father and her mother and being alone. You would have never expected them to become friends, and yet, friends they were. They leaned on each other, and took baby steps together. She listened to him, knowing he didn't have anyone to talk to. He was always there when she climbed the tree and helped her through the window. When Natalie came in with Dan, they were distant, but when she came alone, they were friends.
One night, how ever, as she climbed through the window, something felt odd. Madden, her companion and friend, wasn't in his office. Natalie clicked of his desk lamp, a little worried. He had been particularly stressed with his patients- he couldn't seem to achieve breakthroughs with any of them.
It was absolutely silent as the light came on, and Natalie suddenly saw a not laying on the desk. She picked it up and began to read the doctor's nearly illegible scrawl.
'Dear Natalie,' it began. 'Don't go into the bathroom. You've seen enough in your life, and I wouldn't want to cause you any more pain. See, I've hung myself. I know, I know… I'm a hypocrite, but really, you were right. All that 'live every day like your last' thing is just a bunch of bullshit. Who am I kidding, right? Tell your father he was one of my good patients. Take care of yourself. Don't end up like me. You truly were a good friend to me, and I'm glad I got to know you. Yours truly, Dr. Albert Madden.'
Natalie paused. She wasn't crying. She was in too much shock to cry. He couldn't have. He couldn't have. It was impossible. He was Dr. Madden, eternal optimist. And yet, she knew he had to have. There was no other option.
As it gradually it her, her eyes swam, and she dully picked up the phone to call 9-1-1.
Dr. Madden was dead.
Natalie's first true friend was dead.
A/n: Did you enjoy it? Did it make you want to rip your eyes out and die? Tell me so in a review!