...

"You can't do this," Dr. Harmon objected-half in anger, half in desperation. "I need this position!"

"You're not being fired," the Reverend Monsignor said patiently. The priest was seated behind his desk, hands folded before him in an unintentionally pious way. The way the light was shining through the window behind him made it hard for Ben to see the man's features. "This is merely a... temporary suspension, just until the patient is located and returned, and things settle down."

"And what am I supposed to do in the meantime?" Ben demanded angrily. The man's passive tone irritated him. "My family needs to eat!"

"You'll be on paid administrative leave," said Reverend Monsignor Howard.

That surprised Ben into silence. The priest smiled.

"I meant it when I said we don't want to lose you, Doctor Harmon," said Timothy sincerely. "Your suspension is a formality for the sake of the public who don't understand how mental patients behave. Of course, we here at Briarcliff don't think you have anything to do with any of this, and we're praying vigilantly for your daughter's safe return."

Ben was mollified in spite of himself. The holy man made a good case. The fact that Ben would be paid for the time off certainly cast the whole matter in a different light. Finally, he nodded.

"When do I begin my leave?"

..

In another portion of the hospital, Sister Jude was having a meeting with Dr. Oliver Thredson, similar in nature but of opposite design.

"This is— I can't," he floundered. He was seated before the nun's desk, under her unsympathetic gaze, and could barely contain his outrage at what she was asking of him. "I've already got too full a case load as it is!"

"Doctor Harmon is being put on administrative leave," Sister Jude said crisply. "Someone has to absorb his patients in the meantime and we need someone to take this new patient on immediately."

"What about Doctor Simms?"

"She'll be taking on the majority of Doctor Harmon's existing cases," answered the nun.

"Doctor Galloway?"

"He's retiring at the end of the month."

"What?!"

Sister Jude remained stoic in the face of his panic. "He's retiring. It's long overdue. The man is almost as senile as some of his patients."

"We're losing Harmon and Galloway?" Oliver was on his feet now, pacing.

"We've already hired another resident," said Sister Jude. Her hands curled into loose fists on her desk. She didn't approve of his restless behavior but didn't wish to push him at the moment. "They're having to relocate from New York so they won't be here till the end of the week. They'll be taking over all of Doctor Galloway's patients."

The information was a small relief to Oliver. "Are we going to hire another doctor to cover Ben's patients?"

"We don't have that kind of money," the nun said flatly. "Besides. God willing, your escaped patient will be corralled soon and we won't have to worry about case redistribution."

Thredson didn't like the way she implied that Tate's disappearance was connected to him, even indirectly. "So, when Tate Langdon returns, so does Doctor Harmon?"

The nun smiled a humorless smile. "Yes. That's correct." She ditched the smile. "Provided what we believe about his lack of involvement turns out to be true. If it turns out he had anything to do with the escape, of course, criminal charges will be filed."

The doctor wondered if the same thing would hold true for Violet if it turned out she was an accomplice rather than a victim. "What about the girl?"

"What about her?"

"What if it turns out she's not being held hostage? What if she's helping Tate?"

Sister Jude frowned. "We'll cross that bridge if we come to it. Right now you need to meet your new patient."

..

When Dandy was brought into his office, Dr. Thredson was surprised at how good-looking the young man was. He was like Superman sprung from the comics, right down to the black curl on his forehead. The young man sat straight and proper in his chair despite the wrist cuffs that kept his hands fastened to the belt around his waist. His clothing could have been a polo shirt and leather hunting jacket, not the threadbare gray hospital gown he wore, for all that he sat like a prince.

"Good morning," Thredson said once he had started the tape recorder. "Is it all right if I call you Dandy? Or would you prefer Mr. Mott?"

Dandy smiled, and the charming look on his sculpted features only furthered the Superman impression. "Dandy is fine, doctor. When you say 'Mr. Mott', it makes me think of Daddy."

The doctor quirked a brow at the use of the term 'Daddy' and glanced at the patient's file. The record said he was 23 years old. Dr. Thredson jotted down a quick note about the younger man's name preference and underscored it with a side note: Regressive?

"Dandy, then," the doctor smiled. "Do you smoke, Dandy?"

"Oh, no! It's a filthy habit." The young man noticed the ashtray on the doctor's desk then and smiled apologetically. "No offense intended."

Oliver flashed a quick smile. "None taken. Do you drink?"

Dandy's smile evaporated, replaced by a guarded look of mistrust. "Do I look like a drunk to you?"

"There's no need to get defensive," the therapist said mildly. "I'm not here to judge you. I'm simply trying to get to know you."

Thredson consulted his notes again. He already knew Dandy drank-and how the young man preferred to take his infusion through a bottle-but he decided to wait on tackling that fetish until later. He suspected it didn't have to do with whatever had caused the young man to snap and murder the other fellow, and he didn't want to start off by chasing red herrings. There would be time to re-examine the issue later.

"Well, why don't I ask you some questions then?" Dandy proposed.

He had a strange light in his eyes and the therapist could tell he was trying to reach out in his own snobbish way. So Dr. Thredson relented though normally he would have pushed harder to keep on a more traditional track.

"Very well, Dandy. What would you like to ask me?"

Dandy smiled, delighted that the man was going to play along with his game. "I'll ask you a question," he said to clarify the rules he was making up. "Then you answer. Then you ask me a question. And I answer! Deal?"

Oliver nodded and jotted down a short description of the proposal. "Ask away."

"All right," Dandy said. He flexed his fingers, wanting to move about more than his cuffs were allowing him to. "What was the craziest patient you ever had like?"

The doctor's brow knit in a faint frown and he pushed his horn-rimmed glasses up. "I'm afraid I can't discuss other cases with you."

Dandy glowered, good mood instantly smashed. "That's not a rule!"

"Yes," Dr. Thredson corrected patiently. "It is. It's a rule Briarcliff insists I follow or else I could go to jail. You can ask me questions about myself only."

The young man sulked for a moment then decided it was still a worthwhile game, even if it wasn't going to be quite as interesting. "Okay, then," Dandy said, rallying his arrogance with a lift of his square jaw. "Why did you decide to become a psychiatrist? What made you choose to surround yourself with lunatics and imbeciles all day?"

The doctor peered at his patient. Dandy smiled regally back at him.

"Many people here don't fit either of those descriptions," said Thredson. He lit a cigarette. "Would you put yourself in either of those categories?"

"We're not talking about me!" Dandy flared, annoyed again. The doctor wasn't playing right. "Answer my question or I'm not playing anymore!"

Normally Oliver would rein things in at that point. He didn't like being challenged for control over a therapy session but he was finding the bald exchange very enlightening. By letting Dandy be himself, he was learning far more than he could just pelting the youth with questions.

"I was an orphan," Thredson relented. "I grew up around a constantly shifting tide of mental illness. I saw a lot of problems and wanted to help be a part of the solution."

"How compassionate of you."

The doctor couldn't tell if Dandy was being sincere or sarcastic. "My turn," he said. "Why did you kill that young man?"

Dandy blinked and all the good humor drained from his face along with a little of his color. His fingers curled reflexively into fists but he forced them open again and put on a pucker of a smile. "Of course you're curious about that. That's simple: He tried to touch me. In an inappropriate way."

"So he lured you into the bathroom?" prompted the therapist. "How? What did he say?"

"That's two more questions," Dandy pointed out. "It's my turn first."

Thredson nodded and waved a hand permissively while he tapped his cigarette ash with the other.

"Have you ever slept with one of your patients?"

"No," said Thredson, without hesitation. "So tell me. How did the two of you end up in the bathroom together?"

Dandy frowned. He didn't like the doctor's answer. It was boring. So was the man's persistence about what happened in the park. "We just happened to be there." He paused, the added: "I was using the urinal and he grabbed my bottom. I had to defend myself. There. That's all there is to the story, so please ask more interesting questions. It's my turn now. What's your most embarrassing moment?"

He wanted the doctor to suffer for being so terminally dull.

"Ever?" The therapist considered. "Well. I suppose that would have to be when the elastic on my underpants broke. It happened during class when I was ten. And, of course, it had to happen right while I was up at the blackboard doing a word problem. Everyone saw them fall out of the leg of my shorts."

That wasn't quite the sort of story Dandy had hoped to hear but he decided it would do. "What did you do?"

"That's another question," parried the doctor, using Dandy's own rule against him.

This time the young man smiled, acknowledging Thredson's move as a valid one. It was all right to follow Dandy's rules, even if it meant Dandy lost a point because of it.

"Are you a virgin, Dandy?"

The young man's smile froze. He didn't answer immediately and when he did it was a in cautious tone. "Yes... Unless you count, you know. Self-service."

"No, I don't count that."

"Then yes," said Dandy. He drew himself up proudly. "I'm saving myself for the right girl."

"How traditional," observed the doctor.

"It's the way it should be," said Dandy matter-of-factly. "When I'm married I want to give all of myself to that special person."

It was a lie. Not the part about being a virgin; that was true enough. But Dandy didn't want to save himself for marriage. He didn't know what he wanted, really, but that day in the park he'd been ready to lose his virginity and a whole lot more. But he'd been wrong. He didn't want to be with a man. That was just a confused notion born of extreme boredom and a lack of quality girls to tickle his fancy. All of the ones mother had set him up with were dull, stupid cows and shallow bitches.

"So, you're hoping to have a family of your own eventually?"

"Yes," Dandy said. "And that's another question. Now you owe me two," he smiled smugly.

Oliver tipped his head in a permissive nod. "Ask away."

"Why aren't you married?" When he saw the doctor's blank look he glanced meaningfully at the man's ring finger.

The doctor self-consciously wrung his hands like the gesture might wipe away the question. "Like you, I haven't found the right person yet."

"So you're not queer?" pressed Dandy, even though it used up his bonus question.

"No," Dr. Thredson smiled. His dark eyes were unreadable behind his thick glasses. "Just a very busy man with little time for a social life."

Dandy wasn't sure whether to feel relieved or annoyed. "Sounds like a dull existence, living just to do... this." He waved a hand to include the room and the area beyond.

"Someone's got to do it," said the doctor.

"I wouldn't," said Dandy, drawing himself up. "I'm going to be an actor. I'll be making my debut here!"

Oliver tipped his head to invite the young man to expand on that idea since he wasn't going to phrase it in the form of a question.

He didn't need to. Dandy was more than happy to tell him all about it. "I've already discussed it with Sister Jude," he said, warming to his topic. He scooted forward to the edge of his seat, as far as he could. "She said we can have the show in the lecture theater. I will be the lead and the director!"

"Show?" the doctor couldn't help asking. He was lost.

Dandy drew himself up even straighter, beaming a bright smile. "Oh. You didn't hear? Briarcliff is going to have a talent show."

...

Author's Note:

At last! I've finally edited this chapter. I'm all caught up from my hiatus, which means I can start publishing new chapters. Pre-edited for your satisfaction.

Briarcliff's talent show was inspired by the Titicut Follies, a variety show the inmates at Bridgewater correctional facility for the criminally insane were forced to put on. There was a documentary by the same name made by reporter Frederick Wiseman in 1967 after he went to the place for a news story. He saw the conditions there and felt moved to make the film, to expose the atrocities that were happening there. Little did he know, he was recording the film that would bring about the downfall of the mental asylum in the USA.

Next time: We're going to the bakery! And we might just get in a fight or two.