Chapter 5: You're hopeless
"Dr. Crawford," I acknowledged him, nodding, and carelessly placing my hands on the pockets of my trench coat. He seemed to notice this, and he stood up as well. I bet a million dollars he doesn't want to be looked down. My head was still dull and aching, and I can't bring myself to penetrate this man's mind while in the process of wondering.
"I see you're still wearing your trench coat. Cold? Sick?" the tall man smiled, then for a split second, there was a smirk on his smooth pale features. "Oh, of course, not. Yes? Shall we take a seat and let this be settled?" I tilted up my head from the statement, not caring if my hair fall to my eyes. I'm just too tired to put up a talk, or worse, an argument.
I closed my eyes, trying to regain my shields, but only partly. There were still pain in my head and I fear that I won't be talking straightly to this man, who also happened to be the high-ranked psychologist in this hospital. Bless my poor soul. On second thought, you would rather not. Ha, ha.
I took my usual seat behind the desk, careful not to roam my eyes at his features while on the process of sitting. There was an unlikeable aura surrounding him, almost forbidding and I don't know if it exudes uncomfortableness or fear to the person receiving it. Settling down the chair, folding my arms on the desk, I locked my eyes at his spectacled amber orbs, further inducing a pang in my head.
"What brought you here, Dr. Crawford?" I asked, limiting my language while recovering my mental shields. One... Two...
The man in question raised a brow, watching me. There was a glint in his eyes that seemed too forbidding, but at the same time very interesting. For the first time in my life in this building, I had a clear access to observing him closely, and what I saw didn't disappoint me. His eyes, which were amber, close to caramel, was narrow with long lashes, giving him a very sinister look. He had the most impressive nose I have ever seen in a man. It was straight and pointed, almost like it's sculpted. And his lips...
Damn, why am I doing this? I don't even have interest in men; even in Bradley Crawford, for that matter. I mentally shook my head, and then suppressed the smile tugging at my lips. Meanwhile, the man's eyebrow still didn't fall, it merely shot a centimeter up his forehead.
"You perfectly know why," he answered shortly, casting me a confused look, which to him was a slight scowl. His eyebrow eventually fell parallel to the other, and the scowl faded into an eerie smirk on his thin lips. If my shields weren't crumbled, I would've given a clever retort, but for now, I still have to analyze the other man's meaning of his words.
Fuck my headache. I can't perceive what he meant, less run the phrase around my head. The shields were building up like sand grains, and it's damnedly killing me. So I just gave him my award-winning imitation of his eyebrow raising. Though mine trembled a bit.
"So perhaps the rumors I hear about your telepathy are all untrue. I thought it would be more interesting if you do have the talent," the raven-haired man said humorlessly, then using two fingers, he raised his glasses, causing the light to glare on the glass momentarily.
"It doesn't matter, does it? So for the second time, what brought you here?" I articulated without thinking a bit about the situation and shut my mouth immediately, concentrating on my shields, though not faltering on observing the doctor in front of me. Instead of a surprised expression, such as raising an eyebrow, the man's lips drew in a tight line, losing all the emotions previously printed on his face.
Somehow, I felt a certain nervousness from the act. Though, of course, due to my untouchable pride, I didn't show it. The heck with instinctive reactions of humans...
"You certainly understand you're the second ranked psychologist here. We know our priorities; what we should do and not do. It's strictly business we're doing right about this building," he paused, tilting his head. I felt that I have to supplement a statement, so I did, without letting my lips tremble, and my concentration falter.
"Your point is?" I asked briefly. Seventy percent done, thirty percent more to go of my mental shields. Heck, why does it develop like an mp3 file in a low-speed internet connection? The voices were coming in like a tidal wave, and if I could just distinguish Crawford's mental thoughts through the wave of voices, I would be just do well. But, damn. Whoever said that hangovers were a bitch, should be given a nobel prize. Heh.
"My point is that you must do your business well. You're paid to give service to our clients, treat them, give them help. It must be clear to you that whatever the complications, you must not shed your sense of doing work. And if you don't, you should do the proper measures of excusing yourself," he paused, adjusting his glasses for the second time, long slender fingers propping the thin glass up to his eyes. "Perhaps at this point, I must say your fault straightforwardly. You failed to present yourself properly yesterday, Dr. Schuldig."
For a moment, I tried to think of the other man's meaning of his statements. I do know for those wasted minutes, I gave him a dumb look of misunderstanding, expecting him to fill for my confusion. But the bastard just kept looking at me in his business look, a mask of coldness, and devoid with emotions. However, my mental shields was fully rebuilding, and for some seconds, and I'll be at peace again. Making my face impassive, and letting a small smirk on my lips, I retorted a question at him.
"And how did that affect you, Dr. Crawford? Does it had a lasting effect to your reputation, or even the pay for your job?"
The head psychologist's face didn't change, and he replied fastly as I've asked him. "Apparently, you had a patient by the name of Yohji Kudou. Can you relate to me the events that have happened between you when you have been analyzing him? Have you given him help, or have you given him only trouble?" his gaze was so cold, also his words.
"And does it affect you in the least?"
"It is not of my concern and also yours, Dr. Schuldig. Answer my question."
"There was no exchange of difficulty, in any degree, on his part," though I hated it, I need to be honest, just to get out of this bastard's questioning. "Though, he had inflicted trouble on my part, yet perhaps there would be a difficulty of you understanding the situation."
"And it was?" Dr. Crawford's glasses reflected the light, hiding his eyes. He haven't moved an inch since the start of the serious conversation, and it was making me edgy. Heck, I was talking at the head of our department, and if I made a single mistake, my ass would probably kicked from this hospital.
"I lowered my mental walls, which is the protection to keep the voices out of my head, and entered his mind, to partly read the memories, thoughts, and to further understand his whole situation. However, as I entered his, I didn't expect that much chaos in his head, which drove me into my limits. You see, his thoughts are screaming in my head, and as a telepath, it was difficult to filter out." I gritted my teeth, while waiting for my shields to stand fully on its own. Some seconds left, and I can read this man's voice, to hear what his purposes are and what he wanted from me.
"I thought you cannot read one's thoughts? I thought you weren't a telepath, as proven earlier?"
"I am, but due to some instances, my mental walls were unbuilt; causing the voices to enter my head."
Dr. Crawford relaxed on his chair as if suppressing a sigh, his gaze darting past me, then resting on me eventually, his amber eyes glacial. For that short while, he seemed to be contemplating about something. I just wished it was something positive for my part. His eyebrows were drawn together, bringing a fearsome effect on his expression. "By your words, you project nonsense. Supernatural things are overused, and is childish. If your mental walls are built now, let me know, and tell me what my thoughts are."
I felt a pang inside me; anger was slowly building in my blood. How dare this bastard accuse me of being a fraud! If he only knew what I bear about everyday, if he only can experience my suffering... But hey, my shields are rebuilding. Let's give this man a hell he can finally experience.
Staring coldly as I could at Crawford, I tried to get in his mind, and was met with a cold barrier. Shocked as I was, I stared at the other man with slight curiosity, and with full confusion.
The head psychologist stood up, looking down at me with his blank eyes. "You are still lying, Dr. Schuldig. Your actions are being monitored, and might send you in peril. For now, you could do whatever you want, but not here in the hospital." He turned to leave, but I quickly stood up, anger boiling my blood.
"You are suspending me? For what rational reasons?" I asked heatedly, eyes literally blazing at Crawford. My mental voice told me to repress my emotions, which I doubt I can.
Without turning, Crawford answered me in his cold voice, and further with his mysterious intelligence. "This hospital forbids people who creates their own reason for their own benefit. If you are truly wrecked as you have said earlier, why were you exercising your social life in a certain club last night? Our conversation is over, Mr. Schuldig. You can leave for now, and return if you have already reformed your attitude."
I stared unbelievingly at his back as he left, closing the door behind him softly. Immediately, Manx went in, fuming as she walked to me. "How dare he accuse you like that! You know, I believe you are truly a telepath, but how could you not let a stand to what you really are?"
I sighed involuntarily, sucking in my breath momentarily. "He... he has mental walls. I can't read his mind." I slumped back to my chair, cradling my already throbbing head, still confused.
Manx gasped. "Does that mean he is like you?"
"Well, whatever," I raised my head, rolling my eyes. "At least I can have my break. And since I'm wearing black, I might as well go to the club and have some drinks and hit a random goth girl."
[- You're hopeless. -] Manx thought, thinking that I cannot hear her. I tilted my head and smirked at her, baring my teeth tauntingly.
[- At least I'm spending my suspension productively. -] Then, I laughed, gathering my keys and other things before I stood up and left.
+ + +
Actually, I didn't head to the club at once, I first went to a coffee shop to contemplate about Crawford, and about my suspension. Mostly, it was about Crawford, how he knew all the things I was doing. Holding the cappuccino mug close to me, I visioned Crawford in his earlier expression, saying those accusations to me. Surely, he knew something others don't, and even knew he has mental walls.
If he's like me... then he's as dangerous as I am?
I took a sip from my cup, still occupied in my thoughts when a redhead sat on the table in front of me, a scowl on his pale features. I smirked and decided to lighten up a bit. I used my charisma to make him look at me, of course, using some of my telepathy for him to turn his attention to me.
And he did looked at me, with those weird, but radiant violet eyes. I smirked wider this time, nodding at his direction. "Hallo there. Isn't the weather nice?" I just received a stare, and I laughed inwardly, amused at the reaction. "I suppose you need some serious help for not being able to distinguish a nice weather?"
"I don't know you," he looked at me suspiciously, adding the narrowing of his violet eyes in effect, and then tore his eyes from me, pretending that I didn't exist.
"So we need an introduction," perhaps my german accent was really pissing him off because when I spoke, his eyebrows draw together closer and closer. I read his thoughts clearly, which justified my thoughts about him.
[- This man is weird. Plus his voice is so irritating. I must leave, but Aya-chan would be mad at me for not waiting for her. -]
I chuckled, forgetting my suspension and played more. "I'm Schuldig, a very good looking man, as you can see, and apparently, I'm a psychologist with a very bad reputation to the head of that hospital, who is the most stuck-up Crawfords of all Crawfords. I have introduced myself, it's your turn!"
[- This man is really insane. But he is the psychologist I was supposed to see days before now. That's neat, I can consult him now, but no, he's insane. -]
I pouted when he didn't utter an answer. "No? Hmm, can I make a wild guess? You're Ran Fujimiya, and your sister is Aya Fujimiya and you have some kind of mental abnormality about your emotions towards your sister? Some kind of incestuous relationship?"
His eyes widen, and he stared at me, his mind telling me, [- He IS insane. -]
"You're just stupid to forget that I have your file in my desk."
"Oh," he muttered, and regretted that he have said it, pursing his lips quickly. After a brief pause, the redhead stood up, rigidly staring outside of the coffee shop. I smirked and stood up as well, and followed him. Suspensions can be boring, right?
When he have closed the front door, he turned to me with an annoyed expression, actually just narrowing his eyes and twitching his lips. I have observed that his facial expressions can be pretty limited. "Why are you following me?"
"I'm bored."
He resisted the urge to give a rude retort, still remembering I was a doctor in the hospital and stopped short when a dark-haired girl ran to our direction, then almost glomped Ran as she skidded into a stop. The two of them are not exactly alike physically, but there's just my telepathy saying that they are the Fujimiya siblings.
"Oniichan! I thought you'd left me! Who is he? Is he your friend?" there was a glimmer of doubt in her eyes, which I read in her mind caused by my godly wardrobe and impeccable features.
"I don't know him," Ran said solidly, grabbing his sibling's elbow and dragging him from me.
"Come on, Ran. Stop fooling around," turning to the girl, I asked innocently, "Are you Ran's sister?"
Aya smiled radiantly, tearing his elbow from his brother and clasping both his hands on her lap. "Yes I am. Then, I'm right that you're my brother's friend. What's your name?"
"Schuldig," I smiled, which caused a blush creep from her cheeks. I suppose Ran was annoyed at his sister's reaction for he added a scowl to his limited expression.
"Oh, let's just have coffee, my treat!" I nodded my yes, and Ran enhanced his scowl and then surprised me when he sighed.
Later, the coffee was served and I tried to get something interesting from the duo, but unfortunately, their minds were boring, as well as their character. Aya was a foolish lass who is an average naive school girl, while Ran has become my number one hater, further increasing his scowls and glares everytime I spoke.
And so, while Aya was ranting non-stop, I tried to pry the clusters of memories deep in Ran. All I hear now in his head were how he hated me, and how stupid I am, so probably risking my head wouldn't be a problem. It will perhaps be worth the try. And probably know why the heck he had got a weird emotions over his sister.
Concentrating hard, I entered the web of his mind and searched for a set of memories deep in his head. I've gone too far, so I settled for a small part where images were actually interesting. A flash of a scene in the night with the moon radiant, followed by a scene where a rushing limousine, and then a child being tossed into the air, landing on the rain-splattered cement. The last was actually blurry, a pair of hands reaching out and carrying the injured child. And then there was nothingness.
That was really interesting. I wonder who was in that car...
"Schuldig?" Aya waved her hand over my eyes, her Japanese accent making Schuldig sound Shudei, which is of course, not so surprising for everyone in the population of Japan will pronounce my name like that, except for some who had improved and say it as Shuldih.
I smiled forcedly, and pretented to remember something I left in the office. "Oh, I'm so sorry, I have to go, I have left something in my office." Turning to Ran, I gave him a smirk and I said, tauntingly, "See you, in my office, perhaps?" And I left, giving Aya a cheerful wave before I closed the door of the coffee shop.
So where now? I asked myself, opening the door of my black convertible Porsche, stepping in and thought for a place to stay momentarily. But the words of Crawford cut in my mind, separating my evil desires of getting in a club and just sleeping in my place.
I sighed and started the engine. My house would be my first option for the day.
+ + +
I opened the 31-inch flat TV, flipped the channel in sheer boredom, and settled for a raven-haired goth playing the piano like a machine. It reminded me of Crawford, so I switched the channel again. This time, it was a local channel with the news report. The news reporter began ranting immediately.
'For three years, the death of Mr. Hoffman remained unsolved.' A picture of an old man with lean frames and longish black hair appeared on the screen. 'In his murder site, there were no footprints, or any evidences whatsoever to support the case, however, the police have found some leads on the former psychologist. It has been said by the police that there was a list of people in his journal, which was assumed to be the people he had feared for the years, or threatened him, for there were some notes on his journal that certain people were blackmailing him and threatening to kill him, in connection to the crimes he had committed, including getting a girl in coma.' the newscaster smiled, and proceeded to give the other news.
Oh how cute and stupid people can be... I bet I can solve the murder in less than ten hours. No, five hours.
Suddenly, I was onslaught by a memory buried in my mind, hurting my head more, making it throb painfully and my eyesight blackened, transferred by the images in my head.
A man in a suit stood, his face shadowed by the sunlight on his back. His head had an outline of waves, and it gestured its hands in slow motion. The next thing I saw is a man crumpled on the floor, tearing its hair, and blood splattered on the carpet.
My sight cleared again, and I stared wide-eyed on the TV, which was now showing a Japanese celebrity swatting another celebrity. Somehow, the memory I just saw was forgotten in the recesses of my mind. Shutting the TV off, I head to my computer and connected to the net, searching Mr. Hoffman. 1,000+ results were given, and I clicked on the first URL immediately, an article and biography of the psychologist.
Questions aroused in my head as every paragraph passed, each one seemingly connected to my memory, and to some other person's memory.
It's time for me to barge in other people's business.
Heh.
As if I haven't done that before.
Thanks to Crawford, I'm becoming a detective now.
TBC.
AN: [usual rant, ignore if you like] Hope you like this chapter, though I fear 'Fade to Black' by Robert Goldsborough quite affected the way I wrote this, but nevermind. See? Even the ending has a 'detective' word to it! I definitely won't make Schudelicious a boring fat, orchid-lover detective. Never! I would be reading plenty of Christopher Pike's books, so maybe my writing would be twisted and… nice... Just hope I won't write the next chapter while I'm reading HP and the Order of the Phoenix. My multi-paneled mind might make Crawford the version of Snape, which I wouldn't like to happen too. Anyway, thanks to Picaro for being the almighty beta-reader! All reviews are welcome, even if you want to point out something which you think is so lame to me, just do it, it's your right. Thanks for reading.