Disclaimer: I own nothing of Gundam Wing…merely my puppets to torture.
Warnings: Dark. If you read my 2 previous fics, then you will know I'm on this 'wrongs of psychiatry crusade', and this is no exception. Don't get me wrong, psychologists and psychiatrists have done a lot of good to help people…but they have and still do get things wrong.
Anixolytic
The loading bay was a hive of activity, with engineers and technicians buzzing around the shiny Sandrock Gundam like bees. Quatre could do little but stand and gave up at the sleek new metal of the Gundam. Correction, of his Gundam.
It could have been easily mistook for a scene of a boy admiring a new toy, but the blond was hardly a boy and Sandrock was no toy.
Quatre had to jump out of the way of a technician franticly pushing a trolley of parts. The pilot couldn't help but feel awkward doing nothing; but it was just best that he let the others do their work.
In 6 hours Quatre would be out on his first test mission and the idea made him feel sick of nerves. Insecurities of failure made his mouth dry, and he licked his lips in an attempt to wet them again.
Just then the blond boy nearly jumped out of his skin noticing Instructor H standing only a meter away. He wondered how long the instructor had been standing there…
"How do you feel Quatre?"
The Arabian smiled, trying not to let any faltering show, "I'm very excited about being able to finally use Sandrock in a real situation."
The slightly balding researcher gave a quick smile back before replying "Are you sure?"
Quatre swallowed with difficulty, it was as if there was a hard tight lump in his throat. "Well…to tell the truth I feel a tad anxious…" The boy averted his gaze from his mentor, worried that this admittance of weakness would make the Instructor loose faith in him.
Instructor H observed the boy as he said, "I hope this won't effect the test…"
The blue eyes looked with panic at the dark haired man, "Oh no, of course not! We've been planning this moment for so long…"
The instructor pulled his white lab coat tighter around himself as he pondered the situation…they had been planning this for a long time…and it didn't need to be jeopardised by an attack of the jitters. He came to his conclusion, and he scribbled on a note pad with a pencil. The paper was roughly torn away, and Instructor H grabbed the arm of a nameless passing technician. Instructions were issued and the technician nodded before immediately running across the bay.
"What have you done Instructor?" Quatre enquired.
Instructor H folded his arms across his chest, "He's gone to get something from medical bay to help you."
Quatre frowned slightly before enquiring "What do you mean?"
The older man sighed before answering; "He's gone to get you a tranquilliser, that's all."
The Arabian frowned more, "A drug?"
"Yes." The instructor grew impatient as he waited; however he noticed the concern in the boy's eyes. "Do not worry about it, it's just to help you relax, we don't want any miss-haps."
Quatre nodded…they certainly didn't want any miss-haps…he'd hate to be cause of failure on a mission so many people had worked so hard on. Both the student and mentor waited, with still the activity of the bay going on around them.
Soon the technician returned red faced and out of breath, and handed a small brown bottle with a white cap to Instructor H. The older man nodded and dismissed the technician.
Instructor H handed out the bottle to Quatre, who gingerly took it into his grip. The instructor said "Just take them and you'll be fine. I have to go now and check some things."
Quatre smiled after the elder man, his white coat flowing and lifting behind him. He looked down at the plastic bottle, rolling it in his hand to see the label.
Satisfied he knew the instructions, he pressed and clicked the white lid. A blue and white capsule fell into his soft palm, and he lifted to his mouth. It was difficult to swallow with his already dry mouth, but it went down, although it left an odd sensation of something being stuck in his throat.
Quatre tried to smile again, everything would be okay.
~*~
The Sandrock pilot flopped down onto his bunk, the day of testing and training had been exhausting as usual. It was almost as if he had lost count of the months he had been doing this. The boy ran a hand wearily through his blond hair, almost ready to drift off into a sleep.
But his eyes fluttered open again as he had yet to full fill his last ritual of the day. Quatre reached into the draw next to his bed, and fished around for the familiar bottle. His fingers made contact with the plastic and he pulled it out.
Quatre popped 2 of the capsules into his mouth, moving them to the back of his tongue before the casing started to dissolve. A handy bottle of water from the draw stand made the pills go down as if they weren't there.
The boy lay back down on the bed, wrapping the plain sheets around himself.
After he'd taken that first pill, he'd felt so much more relaxed, no uncertainties to endanger the test. He'd continued to take the blue and white capsules until the bottle was empty. But Quatre had been worried his nervousness would return, and he'd make a mistake that would let down so many people. So all he had done was take it to the nurse in the Med. Bay, and ask if it'd be okay to have some more. She'd looked at the label and smiled and nodded, quickly returning with another full bottle.
The taking of the pills seemed to become apart of his daily routine, one in the morning, two at night.
However when that bottle had become empty, Quatre decided that maybe he should stop taking them…mistake.
The boy had felt twice as nervous as that first day, his hands sweating unable to concentrate on anything. He was useless in that state.
And so he'd returned to the Med. Bay, and had the bottle filled without a single hesitation. No one had said anything, so it must be okay…mustn't it?
The blue eyes fully closed, and the Arabian boy fell into a peaceful sleep…
~*~
It wasn't working anymore. Quatre paced around his bunkroom like a caged animal. He'd taken the dose as normal, but he'd steadily felt the anxiety rise throughout the day.
It wasn't working.
Quatre didn't want to be a disappointment, he couldn't fail, there was too much at stake.
His fingers were gripping the plastic bottle in his hand, each pill rattling as he strode. Finally he stopped, and quickly took the cap off and emptied one more capsule into his mouth. He swallowed; it hurt to do so without water…
He sat on the bed and waited…feeling himself calm by the second in anticipation of the effects…there was no need worry any more…
~*~
A heavy crashing of feet caught Quatre's attention as he worked on paperwork of the strategy room. He looked up to see through the reinforced windows Instructor H with two technicians walking down the corridor until they made it to the open door.
They entered the room, the two technicians flanking the instructor as they approached Quatre, who gazed up at them puzzled.
Instructor H was the first one to speak "Quatre, I need you to accompany us."
The boy nodded, putting the papers into neat piles on the desk before standing and following the instructor out the room, the technicians following behind closely.
It did seem odd…but they probably needed him for some task or another.
All four of them stepped into the metal lift. When it started moving Quatre decided to ask what this was about.
Instructor H's eyes pierced Quatre's own, before he reached into his inside pocket of his lab coat, and pulled out a folded computer print out. It was unfolded, and Quatre's blue eyes widened as he read.
The print out was of pharmaceutical records, and next to each request was Quatre Raberba Winner…
The Arabian felt panic rise at the tone of the people in the lift, and what it could implicate.
After the long pause, it was Instructor H who was the first one to speak, "I don't know what you've got yourself into, but I will sort it. I will not let this ruin years of work."
Quatre's heart fluttered at the words, and managed to choke out in his confusion, "W-what?"
Instructor H violently ripped the print out, "This. Ends. Now." The boy gasped as he started to understand the meaning of the words. He tried to back away in the small lift, but as soon as he stepped back he bumped into and looked up at the technician's behind him. They stared impassively back down.
The metal doors opened, and the technicians roughly grabbed Quatre's arms and pulled him out after the instructor. Horror filled the small boy as he saw what level they were on…level 10, confinement.
The pilot struggled and pulled away from the strong men. His shirt began to tear where they were holding on, and soon their hands were locked around those small arms, the fingernails digging in for more grip.
Quatre tried not to whimper as they dragged him down the corridor, following Instructor H, before they stopped at cell D2. The door was opened and Quatre was unceremoniously thrown in, sliding on the tiled floor.
The door was closed, and various locks and bolts drawn across it. Quatre could still see Instructor H's face through the bars on the door. He quickly pulled himself to the door, wrapping his fingers around the cold metal bars; his eye's flooded with desperation. "Th-those pills…you gave them to me…"
Instructor H looked back at the boy, his lips pressing tightly together. "I gave one bottle to you. Why did I do that? Because they are highly addictive."
The blond boy still gripping to the bars, "No…no one ever said…"
The instructor seemed to grow angry at this, "Your are not a fool Quatre! You'll go 'cold' right now, we have no time to be fussing around with gradual decreases in dosage and relapses." With that, Instructor H turned tail and walked where he had come from, back to the lift.
Quatre shook the bars trying to get the instructors attention, crying out, "No! Please! Don't leave me!"
But the further away the white coat got, the more distressed Quatre become. Soon he was just forcing out "Please!" Screams, desperation and panic having taken over.
Hot tears ran down the pale cheeks, and the Instructor was gone as the lift doors closed on him. Quatre let go and slid heavily down the door. He tried to use his shirt to wipe away the tears from his face, but they were soon replaced by more.
"I...trusted you…instructor…" The boy collapsed into sobs.
Quatre feared what was to come.
~*~
Quatre had no concept of time in that cell. He could have been in there for days, or weeks…he had no clue.
The cell would have been considered quite comfy by some, however this was far back in the mind of the young boy who sat huddled between the bed and wall. He brooded.
It was a withdrawn, sad and ultimately tired huddle.
It had been most difficult at first, when he'd experienced the tremors and headache. But then it was the empty hunger that drove him near insane.
To look at Quatre now, you'd notice deep red and raw scratches in the back of his hands, trying to hide under the shirt cuffs he had undone.
How ever, the other difference you could see was partly obscured by the blond hair over his forehead. For under it was a large purple and red bruise. It had happened at one of the most intense times, when he couldn't sleep or think or anything. He had stood at one of the walls and knocked his head repeatedly against it. Quatre liked it; he liked the numbness it brought. But they'd told him to stop…or they'd use restraints. So he'd sat down and kept working at the backs of his hands with his nails.
But now most of the turmoil was gone, and he was left with this melancholy of being left alone locked in this cell for so long.
Quatre mused that this was all probably for the best…but deep inside there was a raw wound of betrayal…
The door rattled open, and the blue eyes looked up to see Instructor H looking down to him.
They stayed like that for a few minutes, before the instructor asked, "Are you ready to leave now?"
Quatre stood and futilely brushed his clothes down, before looking into those dark eyes intently.
"Yes, I am ready once again."
End
Author's Notes: I must stop using textbooks for inspiration. Anixolytic is a name given to a group of drugs (the 'light tranquillisers' if you must know- but despite the name they can still be really dangerous) that includes such things as Valium, you know, the happy housewife helpers.
My comment with this story (perhaps not that subtly…) Sometimes doctors are over willing to prescribe drugs, without informing of proper risks and consider alternatives. Go to your doctor, say your depressed, and you could walk away with some medication of your very own. Easy 'ay?
Oh and I wouldn't bother with being too literal of on the pharmacology…say stuff like monoamine oxidase inhibitor and I blank out. But this is fiction…we can let that slide, right?
Instructor H is Quatre's doctor guy isn't he…?
Read this far, please review…or I'll send the men in white coats after you (!)