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I don't own any rights to "Doc Martin," and I'm not making any money off it.
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Chapter 4: The Cure
A strong whiff of cologne hit Martin in the face as he entered the police station. Martin coughed loudly and staggered to the front desk.
Empty.
Typical Mark.
A bother when you didn't want one, and useless when you actually needed help.
"Mark!"
Martin heard movement from the back of the station.
"Mark!?"
He warily tiptoed behind the desk. More sounds. They were coming from upstairs. Martin was just about to turn the corner into the private living quarters when, out popped Mark in an orange dress shirt and some rather brief skivvies. In his hand was a set of dress pants.
"Oh...uh...hey Doc," the policeman said a bit sheepishly. "I was just about to say I'll be right out."
Martin stared blankly back at him.
"Um...yes...right. I'll just be ou-"
"Actually Doc, while you're here, "What do you think of the shirt?"
To Martin's extreme discomfort the policeman struck a pose.
"Well...uh..."
Suddenly the door opened. In walked Louisa.
Mark quickly covered his legs with the pants and darted back to the cover of the hallway, with nothing but his head visible
Louisa's jaw dropped.
The room was silent.
"I was just asking Martin for a little fashion advice."
Louisa raised her eyebrow. Martin? Fashion advice? Mark must really be desperate.
But Martin was still standing there silently, clearly too embarrassed to say anything. The very look on his face was clear testimony taht what Mark was saying was true."
"Right then...I'll just go and get myself fully dressed, and then I'll help you all out."
Louisa and Martin were left alone, staring at each other.
Suddenly Louisa laughed, a bit quietly.
"What?"
"Oh, nothing Martin."
Martin scowled a little. In his experience when someone was laughing and there was no other readily apparent cause, they were probably having a laugh at him.
"No really, what?"
"Oh, if you must know, I was just thinking about the dress I was going to wear to the dance tonight."
"Oh."
Louisa ignored Martin's bland mutterance and continued.
"It was red sink thing with little roses all over it."
"I see."
"Won't be able to use it now, will I?" Louisa said with a disappointed laugh.
"I suppose not."
She sighed.
"Oh well."
"I think you look very well without it."
Louisa's eyes shot to Martin.
:What was that?"
Martin's cheeks turned bright red.
"Well...I mean...you look..."
"I'll be down in just a sec, I promise!" Mark's voice came from upstairs, knocking the couple back to normalcy.
"So...I gather you're not really hear to give Mark fashion advice?" Louisa began again, pretending like nothing had happened.
"Eh...no. It's about...a patient."
Louisa was taken aback.
"What do you need Mark for?"
Her eyebrows suddenly drew together.
"Is this person...dangerous?" she whispered.
Martin found himself relishing the moment. "Well...um...yes, he...I mean they...might be."
Louisa scratched her head. She knew just about everyone in the village-all the permanent residents anyway, and many in the outlying areas as well. She quickly made the connection.
"I know you're limited in what you can tell me, Martin, but does this patient by any chance have a problem with...say...seeing giant squirrels who aren't really there?"
Martin looked at her with surprise.
"Stewart," they both said simultaneously.
Mark finally came down to join them, the dress shirt traded for his police uniform.
"Run into Stewart in your travels, have you Doc? He's really a bright guy, it's just he gets a bit strange sometimes. Usually completely harmless."
"Well Mark," Louisa said, "That's just the thing."
She exhaled loudly.
"It appears, he may be up to his old tricks again."
Mark didn't look phased. "What's he been up to?"
"I've just been over to Mrs. Potters and I think he may have knocked down her birdfeeders."
"Birdfeeders?" Martin asked increduously.
Mark suppressed a laugh. "He thinks they cause 'The Greys' to multiply."
Martin looked puzzled.
"The grey squirrels," Louisa said. "He thinks the birdfeeders disproportionately favor the grey squirrels, who multiply and drive the red squirrels to extinction." She shrugged. "Stewart has a bit of a thing about squirrels."
"It's funny..." Mark said.
"I don't think it's very funny!" Martin said disgustedly. "The man is having delusions!"
"No, I mean, Stewart's been fine recently, since Dr. Sim starting giving him his medicine."
"Medicine?" Martin asked.
Louisa and Mark turned toward him.
"You do know he takes meds Doc?" Mark said.
"Umm...I don't recall..."
Mark drew close "Tranquilizers," he whispered.
Martin raised his eyebrows.
The policeman nodded affirmatively. "Pretty powerful stuff, Doc."
"I think I'd better get Mental Health involved."
"Oh Martin!" Louisa said sadly. "Isn't there anything that can be done?"
Martin shook his head hesitantly, surprised by Louisa's tone.
"He may be dangerous, Louisa."
Louisa pursed her lips.
"Stewart isn't a danger to anyone, Martin. The poor man's just a bit paranoid because of his PTSD."
Martin's expression suddenly softened.
He nodded.
"I'll see what I can do."
It was quiet as the Mark's land rover raced down the road, passed the barren moors and rolling farm fields.
Martin was doing his best to decipher the remains of Stewart's medical records. Strangely he had found no mention of tranquilizers.
It was several minutes before he realized that Louisa was watching him intently.
"Louisa, you said that Stewart has Post Traumatic Stress Disorder?"
"Yes," she replied breaking off her gaze. "He was in Bosnia I think. Apparently, he got caught in a terrible gunfight with the Serbs, a real harrowing ordeal, then got shot up pretty bad by his buddy."
She sighed.
"Now he gets all...delusional at times. Thinks that at any moment an enemy might jump out at him. He's frightfully paranoid about poachers. And did I mention the squirrels?"
"You did," Martin said bluntly.
Louisa looked curiously at Martin. "Anyway, I would've thought Dr. Sim had all this written down.
Martin held up the ruined notes. "Destroyed in Bert's manmade flood, I'm afraid."
Louisa scowled. "Uh, you've really had it rough here haven't you Martin?"
The doctor shrugged. An awkward silence reigned for a moment.
"Martin?"
"Yes, Louisa?"
"When I mentioned Stewart's PTSD, you seemed to...I don't know..."
"Go soft?"
"Well not..."
Martin sighed.
"Louisa, I...I have this...blood...thing," he said quietly.
Martin's cheeks turned ashen pale.
Louisa looked horrified.
"What kind of blood thing?"
Suddenly her eyes grew wide.
"Do you have AIDS, Martin?" she said in the lowest voice she could wonder.
Perhaps that's why...
"No, no," Martin said. "Nothing like that."
He sighed again.
"If I smell or even sometimes see blood or cauterized flesh, I have a reaction."
"Reaction? What kind of reaction?"
"Nausea, sweaty palms, paleness..."
"So you have a fear of blood?" Louisa said, puzzled.
"But weren't you a surgeon back in London?"
Then it hit her.
"Is taht why you're a GP?"
Martin nodded. "Yes. I...I can't do surgery anymore, which is a shame, because it was the only thing I was ever good at."
"Oh Martin! I'm so sorry."
"No, I'm sorry. I should have told you."
Louisa bit her lip for a second, pondering what Martin had just said.
"Is that why you can relate to Stewart?"
Martin nodded. "I suppose it is. Yes."
Finally, the land rover lurched to a stop.
"Here we are Doc."
Martin looked at Louisa.
"Right, I'll go in and see Stewart, and you two wait here."
"Nonsense, Martin, I'm going with you."
"Louisa, it might be dangerous."
She rolled her eyes.
"I've told you, Stewart's not dangerous...!"
She climbed out of the land rover to the sight of the park ranger walking up to front gate with a gun.
"Most of the time..." she muttered to herself.
Reluctantly, Martin clambered out after her. Mark remained in the car, feet up, reading a book, as if the matter's was of no importance. Right then. He would have to tackle this on his own.
The ranger pointed a finger at Martin, a congenial smile on his face.
"You must be Doctor Ellingham, the new GP."
"Right," Martin said, a bit skeptical of the man's tone. "You must be Stewart."
"Got that right Doc. I've been hoping you'd pay me a visit one of these days."
"Yes, so my receptionist has told me."
Stewart turned to Louisa, then the police car.
"I see you've brought the lovely Miss Glasson, and Mark, too, from the look of things. Is somethin' going on Doc.
"Umm...no..." Martin shook his head. "My car's in the garage, and...well...Louisa..."
"Ah, I catch you're drift there Doc!" He winked conspicuously at Martin.
So far Martin had seen little to indicate anything unusual about Stewart, other than a mild discomfort with idle chit-chat, an apparent sin he himself was often guilty of.
"Um...Doc...if you don't mind, there's a medical issue I'd like to discuss with you."
Martin swallowed hard.
"Perhaps over a cup of coffee."
"Right. Just lead the way."
"You carry tranquilizers Martin?" Louisa said, surprised at the doctor's apparent change of heart. "I thought those were a controlled substance."
"I didn't actually give him tranquilizers."
"You didn't?"
"No, the pills I gave him were multi-vitamins tablets." He though it best not to reveal the source of those tablets with Louisa present.
"Ah!" Louisa said, smiling mischievously. "The placebo effect. Where did you get that idea?"
"Doctor Sims notes...or what I could make of them. Stewart's delusions are too minor to justify using potentially addictive tranquilizers, and he's apparently responded well in the past to this kind of treatment."
"Is that what the placebo effect is doc? Faking it?"
"Sort of," Louisa said. "It means that people think the drug is helping them, when really the drug has no real power at all. Instead they either cure themselves, like with Stewart, or think they've been cured, when they really haven't."
"So that's what they..."
Mark shook his head in disbelief, then smiled mysteriously.
"Well anyway, this is my stop," Louisa said, pointing to her house.
Mark stopped the car and Louisa fumbled her way out.
Before she closed the door she glanced back at Martin, a small, almost shy smile on her face.
"I'll see you later, Martin," Louisa said a bit reluctantly.
"Yes," the doctor said quietly.
As the car pulled away, Martin found himself looking back, out the rear window, just to catch another glimpse of her, as she faded away into the doorframe of her house.
To be continued...
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