Chapter 25: Meeting with a Clown

Friday, December 18th.

Doctor Nowell perfected the hem of her skirt for what must have been the sixth time in half as many minutes. She had decided not to dress up or down for this particular day, forcing herself to wear her usual work clothes and be comfortable in them. But, despite having worn these clothes for over two years, she couldn't help but fiddle with them. Her white shirt seemed too tight, the grey skirt too short. Strands of her brown hair fell down over her eyes, and just refused point-blank to be tamed back into their usual clip. She knew if she toyed any more with her tights they would ladder, and then her obsessive streak would make her go and put on another pair.

Andrea shook her head, wearily. Since when had she become a nervous, obsessive wreck? She was a shrink, for God's sake. Falling apart at the thought of a run-of-the-mill session? If her psych lecturer were here he'd have a fit.

Of course, this wasn't just any other patient.

You need to do this, she told herself, firmly, You need to do this. For Rebecca.

Oh God, if she could just get through this session. Thirty minutes. Whatever the outcome, if she could just get through this thirty minutes, it'd be a miracle.

Tracy had been remarkable about the whole thing. She had shown up all pale skin and tired eyes. She looked exhausted. They had been friends for a long time, long enough for her to have been concerned at the younger doctor's fatigue. She said she was fine, just worn down. Burning the candle at both ends, all that crap that people say when it's obvious they're absolutely exhausted. Maybe she was getting a heavier patient load now all those staff were taking more time off for the Christmas holidays, or whatever reason they'd cooked up...

"Doctor Nowell?"

She actually started, her cheekbones promptly flushing slightly with embarrassment. She pulled herself together quickly, however, her composure sliding easily back into place, "Yes?"

The guard jerked his head at the door, stiffly, "He's ready."

She nodded, and got to her feet, shakily. She rubbed her hands across her skirt one more time before firmly stopping herself. God, this felt like high school, sitting outside the principal's office. Never mind that she was a competent, intelligent psychologist who was hardly young or naïve - she felt like a teenager who'd just been caught sneaking out of her parents' house to see a movie with a guy that was far from appropriate marriage material.

Hell. Like marriage ever says anything...

The young guard was preoccupied. He looked twitchy. His whole demeanour was stiff. She supposed any long period of exposure to this particular patient was bound to do that to someone. She drew in a long, slow breath as they moved through the hospital door. Her heels clicked unbearably loudly along the white tiled floor. She thought about that conversation she had had with Rebecca, about how she used to count the ceiling tiles. It had been a long time since she had frequented that particular vent. But she found herself doing it now.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five.

All the beds were empty except one, right at the far side of the room. Well, it would be, wouldn't it. They'd hardly put him near the door.

Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten.

Her brown eyes moved over the scene in front of her, calculatingly, automatically. She felt a small hint of relief at the sight of the chair next to the occupied hospital bed. With the damage that had been done to her kidneys many years ago, it was hard to remain standing for any substantial amount of time, but thankfully the orderlies had had the courtesy to allow her to sit with her temporary patient.

Eleven. Twelve. Thirteen. Fourteen. Fifteen. Sixteen...

Andrea slowed to a halt. Her eyes locked onto him. Curly, dark blonde hair. Average build, maybe a little on the short side, it was hard to tell with him lying down. His eyes were closed with his head back against the hospital bed he was chained to, tilted slightly to one side. Bruises covered his body, and there were four long scratches down his left cheek. Fingernail marks. They looked enflamed, possibly infected, definitely painful. But, aside from the injuries...

He looked so... normal.

As if to remind herself of what he was, Andrea felt her eyes moved down his face, tracing over the infamous scars stretching up his cheeks. She caught herself at it, and shook her head, firmly. She took another step forwards.

The Joker's eyes shot open.

Andrea almost stepped back. She felt like her heart had dropped into her stomach, but her face remained expressionless, "Good morning."

He paused, considering her for a moment, narrowing his eyes slightly as he looked her over, carefully, "Good morning..." his eyes felt like scourers scraping over her, but she kept hers on his face, refusing to show any sign of fear. When he had finally finished, his eyes returned to hers, and he cocked his head slightly to one side, curiously, "You're not Teri."

A frown flittered over her features before she could stop it, "Teri?"

"Doctor Wei-gel... my shrink."

A creepy feeling flickered through her stomach at the way he had said 'my', but she firmly suppressed it. She moved forwards, all business, settling down easily into the seat at the Joker's bedside, placing her file down on a counter alongside her, "No, no I'm not Doctor Weigel. My name is Doctor Nowell."

He cocked his head to one side, like a dog, "First name? Or are you only a title?"

"Does it matter?"

He raised an eyebrow, "Ooh, that was rude." He straightened up a little, making an odd motion with his hands as if he was trying to fold his arms, regardless of the restraints tying him firmly back down to the bed, "I don't like rude people, doc. Ask your, uh, little friend in surgery."

Luckily, Andrea had done her research, and knew exactly who he was talking about, "Sam Colt was not my friend."

"Was?"

She caught her mistake. "Is."

He gave a small scowl and muttered something she didn't quite catch under his breath. Then he suddenly brightened a little, "If you won't tell me your name, then I'll just have to, uh, think one up for you. Like I did for Teri. Are you two friends-uh?"

Who the hell is 'Teri'? "We're colleagues."

"That's not what I asked."

She looked at him long and hard. Did he treat all his doctors like disobedient children or was this little show just for her... "Yes. Yes, we're friends." She paused for a moment, glancing down at the notepad on the desk, jotting down a few brief notes she'd give to Tracy later, "Can I ask why you call her Teri?"

He raised an eyebrow, "Her name is Doctor T Weigel." He said, looking at her as is she was totally missing the point.

"And?"

He giggled at her obvious confusion, "I'm assuming you don't know Miss Teri Weigel, then. The two share a lot in common."

Teri Weigel? Now why did that name sound - Ah. T Weigel. Teresa Weigel. Andrea winced internally. Being compared with an 80's playboy star... no wonder poor Tracy seemed stressed. He probably hadn't made it subtle, either...

"Cut it out, Joker." The young guard who had brought her in snarled, taking a step towards him, warningly.

The Joker continued laughing, shaking his head, "Ooh, I was just making con-ver-sa-tion, Ernie. What's up with you, you got the hots for little Teri tooo?"

Andrea almost closed her eyes in exasperation, but managed to prevent herself. If the conversation was going to go this way, she better stop it now.

"You know, my fav-ou-rite film of hers has got to be -"

"How many different doctors do you see?"

His amusement was cut short as if with a blade, and he looked at her, narrowing his eyes slightly, "It's rude to interrupt, Doctor Nowell."

She looked at him for a second, "Your doctors, Joker?" she repeated, mildly.

He paused for some time before replying, as if letting her know he was doing it of his own free will. He rocked back on the bed a little, greatly impeded by the thick leather straps, "Three-uh. It was four. But, uh," he paused to giggle again, shaking his head, quickly, "Uh, Doctor Cartwell had a, a little bit of a nervous breakdown."

Nice... "But Tra-... But Doctor Weigel is your main therapist."

He sobered instantly, raising his eyebrows, "You are friends. Friends enough to find it hard to call her by her last name."

Goddamnit, he heard that. "It's difficult for me, yes. I haven't worked with Doctor Weigel before, I've never had to call her by her last name."

"Hmmm..." he watched her for a moment. Then, suddenly, he nodded, resolutely, "So. Are you the one with the S-and-M fetish then?"

Firstly just moderately rattled, this one completely threw her. "E... Excuse me?"

"S-and-M. It stands for Sadism and Masochism."

"I... I know what it stands for." Mother of God, did he always talk like this?

He smiled, pleasantly, "Well then, are you or aren't you?"

The orderly once again stepped in: "Shut the hell up, Joker."

"It's a simple question, yes or no."

Andrea was staring. She wrenched her eyes away, quickly, counting the floor tiles, reminding herself that she had been through worse, reminding herself of medschool, of her first few weeks, her time with 'Caden', her time with Lynns. "Why do you ask that?"

"Well, the straps. I mean, don't get me wrong, the straightjacket's kinky as hell, but I find the straps just a little bit more... motivating."

Was she going red? It felt like it. God, she hoped she wasn't... "To be honest, Joker, I don't think that's what your restraints are there for."

He managed to catch her eyes, probably yanking his back out in the process, and winked, "Sure about that?"

Competent, intelligent psychologist, neither young nor naïve. Competent, intelligent psychologist, neither young nor naïve...

"Yes. Now. If we could get back on topic...?"

He gave a long, mocking sigh, "If we must. If you're not here to participate in a little fun, what are you here for."

"I need to talk to someone about... a rather discrete matter." She stopped in her place, giving a small, dry smile, realising the irony, "Which, of course, is why I came to you."

He nodded, seriously, "Of course. I'm just known for my discrete nature, Doc."

Andrea looked at him for a second. Then she shook her head, "Just give me ten minutes of your time to talk."

"I dunno..." he said, easily, "My sche-dule's kinda full..." he yanked round again, turning to the young guard, "Whatd'ya think, Ernie, we got time for a little cha-t?"

"I'm not gonna tell you again, clown." The boy growled, his hands clenched tightly into fists by his sides.

Andrea looked him over, catching the warning signs, and immediately got to her feet, putting a light hand on his arm, "You know, uh... um..." she hesitated, looking at him, frowning slightly, "It's... not Ernie, is it."

"Eddie." He replied, stiffly.

"Eddie. Would you mind just... stepping outside for a moment. I think I'll do better on my own."

He looked at her, "Doc. He aint been left alone with a woman since he got here."

Well. That wasn't true. But, hell, it paid to stay polite: "Yes. I, well, I understand that. If you would please...?"

Joker grinned, "Don't you worry, Ern, I'll take care of her for ya."

"I said -"

"Please." She interrupted, quickly, firmly, "Eddie. I'm a big girl now. I can take care of myself."

The guard looked at her for a long time.

She turned him, hand on his shoulder, walking him back towards the door, "Come on. Just stay right out here. I'll need to close the door, okay? No no no, I need that closed. I'll be right out, thanks."

Andrea paused, and then shut the door softly behind him.