Disclaimer: The characters and all that nonsense belong to Atlus (other than the few original characters that I guess would belong to me). This fanfic is purely for entertainment. Thank you.
a/n: Hooboy, if it seems like I've forgotten about a fanfic, don't think I have. I've just got a lot going on right now, and as soon as summer is here, I'm free 8D
This chapter took me awhile to write because I originally knew what I was going to do with it, but then I decided that I wanted to do something else… and then that I wanted to do what I had originally planned… and so forth. In the end, I decided to do what I had originally planned.
Something I need to say: a big thank you to everyone that reviewed this! (And everyone that put it on their favorites and alerts :3) I'm happy with all the feedback I can get.
And now, chapter two of Striving towards Tomorrow!
--x--
He fingered the edges of the thick file, staring down at it with narrowed eyes as if a venomous snake lurked between the sparse details.
"April 23, 2018
The patient is suffering from what appears to be psychosis . . . severe hallucinations . . . reacting violently . . . ruled out substance abuse . . . possible schizophrenia . . . I've arranged for a strait jacket to prevent . . .further damage to himself."
"Did you figure anything out on Mr. Stiles yet?" Nurse Krause inquired from the doorway, barely startling him.
Glenn shook his head, closing the file softly. "I'm afraid that even if I had, Jennyth, I wouldn't be able to tell you. Dr. Simmons kept records with just enough information, but none of the kind that I'm looking for."
She shook her head, crossing her arms. "I see. Do you still want to see him today? I'd offer to reschedule but… he's gotten worse. There haven't been any big episodes, but I see him muttering to himself a lot." Her arms uncrossed as she began wringing her hands. "According to Nurse Baker, it's a lot like the way he used to be between episodes."
He closed his eyes for a moment, a frown spreading over his face. "It's not uncommon to see patients go back on their progress… I eliminated schizophreniform disorder from the list of diagnoses."
"Of course--it's been well over 6 months. Is that to say that he hadn't already done that?"
"I'm going to assume that he did and didn't write it down. He was with Derek for at least seven months, closer to nine months, if I'm correct. Plus, he noted after speaking with some of Mr. Stiles's acquaintances that there were symptoms well before he was admitted to the facility," he explained, folding his hands on top of the file.
"I understand that Dr. Simmons tried treating him for schizophrenia. Molindone, Olanzapine--older, more tried neuroleptics. What happened with that?"
He shrugged, looking to his watch. "There wasn't a particular reason that he decided to go with older medications that he wrote down. As for the schizophrenia… his symptoms just disappeared. There was something written about it in the August 18, 2019 entry. He dropped the case two months later."
She seemed to get the subtle hint, looking at the clock on the wall. "Oh, I guess I should be getting back to work. I know I probably shouldn't be delving so deeply into this, but… he needs help, like everyone else in here. After everything he's done for the world with the war on bioterrorism, don't you think he deserves something back?"
"I'll do my best."
--x
"Derek…"
It was a low, raspy whisper in the back of his head, unthreatening, yet still managing to throw him into another fit of thrashing. He probably looked so pathetic in his strait jacket, flopping around like a fish out of water…
"Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!" he shouted futilely, squeezing his eyes shut. This wasn't supposed to be happening--he had been so stupid to think that it was over…
"Do you see where medicine has gotten you? Do you see what has become of the people whose lives you selfishly saved? The latter has forgotten you completely… you, their 'savior.' They are your GUILT…"
He was telling the truth… they didn't remember him… useless… "No. They hadn't done anything wrong! They deserved to live! Humans… humans are good. Some are just misguided…"
"Yet you dare judge them… You, who lost the ability to die."
There was a pause as he started laughing. He barely recognized the sound of it whenever it bounced back at him--dry and empty, like a machine. A broken machine… Broken machines got fixed or destroyed. Was that his fate? Total deterioration before the last gear stopped turning?
"You lost the ability to die, Adam. If I didn't know better, I'd say you were death itself."
There was a pause as he fell still, listening to the sound of his own panting. Silence filled the room, only being broken by a wail from the room beside of him. He let out a sigh of relief before propelling himself into a sitting position, skittering across the floor towards the bed in the corner. These were disturbing events, indeed.
That was the first time Adam has talked to me in…since the third time Angie visited. Angie! Where is she? I know that she hasn't forgotten about that--she wouldn't do that to me. Dr. Schwehn hasn't mentioned anything about her… but she's coming! I know she's coming! Without her…
He shook his head, threatening to send his glasses to the floor. Damn, this strait jacket was annoying… he'd have to ask one of the nurses to push his glasses further up his nose whenever they came to check on him.
Without her, I don't have any hope of getting better.
His eyes drifted shut, reaching toward a welcomed release for his aching body. He was getting better… he was getting better…
I'm getting worse.
--x
At first glance, he didn't look like much of a rocker, but looks could definitely be deceiving. He wore a red hoodie with a strange black logo, and there seemed to be a necklace tucked under his shirt. The only thing that might've given way to the fact was his hair, which was long and blonde, choppily cut. (Long blonde hair… he seems familiar, somehow.)
"Y-yo, doc."
(This is the polyp patient, isn't it? I probably should've paid more attention to my schedule… and the paperwork…) I put on my usual smile, launching into the basics of the surgery.
"During today's surgery, we'll be removing a polyp from your throat. How are you feeling? It's important for us to know about any changes to your condition. There could be problems if anything unexpected happens."
He more or less shrugged at the question, though I picked up that it wasn't caused by any sort of apathy. "I dunno, fine I guess…?" There was a slight pause. "…I really don't know…"
"Huh?" I felt stupid over the answer, but he seemed to ignore the fact that it was simple and something that you usually didn't hear doctors saying.
"It's just not fair, y'know?" Another pause, then finally a continuation prompted by my stare. "I spend years working part-time, keeping the dream alive… Now, we finally land a contract with a bigtime record producer… and my throat's screwed up."
The patient looked hopelessly at me. "So, what? If something goes wrong, I wasted my life? I have to work retail 'til I die because of this stupid polyp thing?"
I was caught completely off guard by the comments, even if I probably could've seen them coming. "J-just try to relax… We're hoping for the best," I managed to stutter, wanting to smash my head against a wall or a desk. This definitely wasn't going very well.
I'll never forget what he said next.
"Oh, yeah, 'hoping' huh? That's clearly all it takes, right? 'Hope.' Not practice, not discipline…" His gaze turned a bit angry. "…If you could get by on hope, I woulda had a record deal years ago!" The anger faded as he drifted back into his hopeless state. "Maybe Dad was right… I was stupid to think I could be a rock star." The phrases were almost inaudible, spoken to the floor instead of to me.
"C'mon, try to stay positive. You're going to be fine. Really," I tried to combat, but the damage had already been done.
"Sorry Dex, Nate, Tisha…" he continued whispering to the floor, curling and uncurling his hands into fists. "…You guys fronted the money and I just ended up letting you down… I don't even think I'll be able to pay it back."
A woman came from the side, saving me from making any other useless and/or stupid comments. "…I need to take your blood pressure, Mr. Cox. This way, please."
"Tch… Yeah, whatever." He stood up, and the two of them left.
I had a moment of silence to myself to think about the conversation before the nurse flew back in, vocally charging at me as though the patient wasn't in the room beside of us. "Why didn't you just tell him everything would be fine?" she demanded angrily.
"…Wait, what?" The shout broke me out of my thoughts, and the fierce glare I received made it seem as though I was an idiot and that the thought had never occurred to me as opposed to just being surprised by the verbal attack.
"Don't you even read your own notes? You know he was nervous about this!" She took a deep breath, controlling her tone and managing to bring the volume down a few levels. "Our job is about more than just treating illnesses… Proper bedside manner is an essential element in a patient's recovery! Things you say directly affect these people's attitudes."
Our first full day together, and I could already tell that she didn't seem to like me.
"Don't you get it?!"
The sudden silence prompted an answer from me. "Y-Yeah… I do."
She turned away from me, stalking back towards the room that the patient was in. "I hope you handle things more appropriately during surgery this afternoon," she shot over her shoulder, not bothering to turn around. She hadn't needed to yell at me--I could sulk by myself.
--x
Derek's eyes drifted open lazily at the sound of Nurse …something-or-other's voice, which emanated from the open door. "You're going to be late for your appointment with Dr. Schwehn if we don't hurry." Oh, it's the east wing nurse.
He got to his feet awkwardly, his joints stiff from the position that he had fallen asleep in. "Were you trying to wake me for awhile?" he queried as they walked out of his room and down the hall.
She shrugged, looking at her watch. "Only for ten minutes. Don't worry--I've had to deal with worse. Besides, if you were that tired, I kind of feel bad for waking you."
"Nah, I just sleep deeply."
Today marked the fifth month since his first visit with Dr. Schwehn, but he wasn't keeping count. One would think that after walking down the same dimly lit halls and through the same double doors so many times would've dulled the experience, but he still felt a little thrill whenever he stepped through the windowless doors.
I get to be on the good side of the divide for a little while.
The biggest thrill, though, was being able to look up through the sky lights whenever he walked through the lobby. Somehow, they made the sky seem accessible… as if he could reach out and touch the stars or feel a warm breeze on his skin from the sun. It reminded him that there was still a world outside the Asylum.
And one day, I'm going to touch the stars. Just you watch.
Of course, he wasn't going to tell anyone about his aspirations, because on the most part they seemed… infantile, silly at best. But he was going to touch the stars.
"How are you today, Derek?"
He broke from his thoughts, looking up at the psychiatrist. "Not good," he replied softly, allowing his gaze to fall back to the floor. I shouldn't have said anything… now I'm going to get another lecture about how I'm stupid for believing in "figments of my imagination"… but Adam is real! If only I could show them.
"Oh?" Dr. Schwehn inquired, folding his hands in his lap. It was such a good device--an empty question that almost always brought forth an explanation.
Derek avoided what he considered to be just another trap, shrugging slightly. He trusted that Dr. Schwehn didn't want to trick him into talking about Adam--actually, that was exactly what he thought he would do. "It's just not a good day."
"But why isn't it a good day?"
Another shrug was his only response.
The topic was quickly dropped. "Derek, tell me something. What do you want most?"
For what felt like the third time today, despite the fact that he hadn't really talked to anyone other than Nurse Krause and Dr. Schwehn, he was caught off guard. "I…" Did he really need to think about it? "I want Angie."
A slight pause ensued before he launched into an explanation.
"Not that many people come to see me, you know that. But… even if I had more friends than I could count on my fingers, she'd still be special. Whenever she's around… the world seems brighter, and I feel happy… like I'm not going to have to be afraid anymore." A faint smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "She understands."
"Understands what?" The question was greeted with another shrug.
He found the rest of the appointment to be uneventful, but still managed to get through the hour and a half without touching on the subject of Adam. Dr. Schwehn seems nice… but I'm tired of being told that I'm wrong.
Now, sitting back in his room, he had no choice but to try and put his mind in motion. Otherwise, it would find something else for him to think about, and chances were that it probably wouldn't be something at the top of his list. Was I dreaming before the east wing nurse came in here? I really don't remember it… He let out a sigh, sitting down on his bed. I think I screwed up badly in it, though. That lady yelled at me… she kind of looked like Angie… His head jerked back slightly as the thought occurred to him. Was it Angie yelling at me? He smiled, shaking his head as his posture loosened. Nah, Angie would never yell at me.
All that was left to do was pass the time until he was tired enough to go to sleep again.
--x
"Dr. Schwehn…"
He locked the door to his office before turning around, smiling slightly. "Nurse Krause," he greeted, putting the keys in the pocket of his jacket as he started walking. "What do you need this late?"
She shrugged, keeping the pace beside him. "I just thought you should know that Nurse Baker reported Mr. Stiles having an episode shortly before you met with him. He… he's getting worse, isn't he?" There really wasn't a point in asking a question that she already knew the answer to.
The smile faded as he shook his head sadly. "I'd put him on medication, but Dr. Simmons already tried that. Whatever this is happens to come in cycles, and it really wouldn't help. But…"
One of her eyebrows rose slightly whenever he trailed off. "But?" she prompted.
"Do you remember the visitor that I asked about--someone by the name of Angie?"
She nodded before biting down on the bottom of her lip. I probably should've gone and checked the records about her… Sure, I haven't been around to hear much about her, but she sounds like she was important to Derek. "What about her?"
"I think it's time we give 'Angie' a call."
--x--
a/n: And then the chapter ends ;3
Sorry for the general lack of Angie again--I originally planned to bring her in this chapter, but then I was all like "Screw it; she doesn't fit with this chapter. Oh well, the people reading can suffer in suspense for another chapter," and so you're going to. :)
Until the next chapter, Auf Wiedersehen, loves