THIRTY-THREE

* * *

Even the veterans, those most jaded, remembered. Even they talked about it.

Blood. On the walls, the floor. Bloody hands, forearms. Everywhere.

Screaming.

An orderly with a broken arm as he had tried to restrain her.

Never saw anything like it. When they say "crazy", that's what they mean.

Wasn't she on meds?

She sure is now. Isolation, too, and restraints. 24 hour watch.

Crazy.

#

Garrett didn't like that word, never had. Crazy was a luxury the mentally ill could ill afford. To be crazy and live meant you had to know yourself as few of them could, because they were sick. Sick, not crazy.

He reminded the staff of this. His tone was not gentle.

"I don't want to hear that word again. Especially not around the patients. Do you understand?"

They were cowed and nodded.

Garrett moved away from the nursing station, down the hall to the office he shared with Edwards. How do I explain? he wondered. How do I look the parents in the eye and tell them that they have to stay the course, that for her sake the blood and the screaming and the horror have to be allowed to go on? They will want her to be like she was before, just another piece of furniture. They will prefer the slow death to the agonizing gasps for life.

He had seen it before.

They were there when he arrived, sitting. He could sense the tension in the room right away, and as he sat he saw the smoldering rage in the father's eyes.

"What happened?" the man growled.

"There was an incident last night," Garrett answered evenly.

"Is that what you people call it now?"

Garrett avoided the barb. "She's currently stable," he said. "We have her sedated, and we're watching her."

"Stable?" Hank hissed. "You call this stable?"

"I do. She can't hurt herself, and I don't think she would even if she could. The outburst is over and chances are all she wants now is rest and quiet. I hope to resume therapy within the next few days."

The man's eyes went wide. "Therapy? You want to do more of this to her? You want to put her through this again?"

Garret fixed his gaze on Hank Summers, winced inwardly at the molten hostility that his eyes returned. "Mr. Summers, I know this is hard. I know you love Buffy and I know you want what is best for her. But I want you to understand that she is fighting for her life here. Everything she knows hangs in the balance, and that is more than you or I can know. We have to trust her and we have to keep up with the therapy."

"Your therapy is going to kill her," Hank spat. "You've been killing her from the beginning. When she cuts her own throat or throws herself off the roof, are you going to still tell me she just needs more therapy? You keep telling her that she can live in her dreams, and it's killing her."

"Mr. Summers ...."

"Shut up. You're going to listen to me now, Dr. Garrett. You and all your fancy degrees and your fancy hospitals are killing my daughter, and you think I'm just going to let you do it? Well let me tell you this: You are not going anywhere near Buffy, ever again, do you understand me? We're going to get her to different hospital and we're going to find someone who doesn't play games with her head and by God I'm going to sue the shit out of you for what you've done. Do you hear me? Do you hear me?"

Garrett watched the man. He could do it, of course. A malpractice suit probably wouldn't go far, but there were plenty of lawyers who would take the case, would tie him and the hospital up for years in litigation. And when Buffy slipped back into catatonia, that would just get added to the charges.

But he couldn't be angry with Hank Summers. You tried, he thought, as though talking to the man. You never stopped loving her and it hurts more than any pain you've ever felt to see her suffer. It may be hard to believe but for this I respect you. Even as you condemn your daughter to hell I must respect you.

Garrett sighed. This happened sometimes, knowing even as he tried one last time that he would fail.

"Mr. Summers, please. There is still hope. She's fighting now, and that's hope."

"Shut up! I said shut up! We are taking her out of here, do you understand? You get that paperwork and you sign it, do you hear me?"

Garrett sighed again, nodded. That was it, then. Last card played. Game over.

Until another voice, soft, intruded.

"No."