Title: The Other Side of Despair
Author: alliterator
Summary: "Where does one go from a world of insanity? Somewhere on the other side of despair." – T. S. Eliot. AU Crossover – Joan and Buffy.
Disclaimer: Joan of Arcadia belongs to Barbara Hall Productions and CBS and Buffy the Vampire Slayer belongs to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, and Fox.
She arrived at the Nash Psychiatric Hospital at 4:45 pm. She knew this because there was a giant grandfather clock in the lobby. It didn't look like any hospital she had been at before. There were couches everywhere and some of them had patients sitting on them – older men and women who looked like they had been run through the dryer to get extra wrinkles.
"I'm here to check in my daughter," her father said. The receptionist looked up from her magazine. "We have an appointed for five o'clock – we came a little early. It's under the name Girardi." The receptionist tapped on her keyboard and Joan wondered what was coming up on screen. Did it say she was 100-percent nutso? Did it say she talked to God?
"Here it is," the receptionist said. "Well, Dr. Young is in a meeting with another patient right now, so you'll have to wait."
"That's okay," her mother said. "Come here, Joan." She took Joan's hand and led her to one of the couches. Joan gripped onto her hand, afraid if she let go all her fears might be true. Afraid her parents were going to leave her here.
During the fifteen minute wait, Joan observed a man who perpetually drooled, a woman who seemed to be muttering to herself, and a man in a wheelchair who staring into space. Will I be like that? Joan thought. Will this place turn me into a vegetable? She tried to push the thought to the back of her head, but it didn't want to stay.
When the grandfather clock struck 5:03, a doctor appeared – she knew it was a doctor because only doctors wear those white coats and carry clipboards and managed to look serious all the time. "Mr. And Mrs. Girardi? I'm Dr. Young. Could you please come with me?"
Joan trailed behind her parents as they went into Dr. Young's office. Before entering, Joan glanced down the hallway and saw a young woman – at least 20, the youngest she had seen in the hospital so far. She had blonde hair and Joan saw something in her eyes that looked like desperation. She hated this place. I can't blame her, Joan thought.
Inside Dr. Young's office, Joan looked at the various degrees that were on the wall. "Mr. and Mrs. Girardi," Dr. Young started, "I assume you have been informed that your daughter has a case of disorganized schizophrenia. This means that your daughter has been having delusions and hallucinations for at most a year."
"Yes, we know," her father said. "We want to know what to do about. We want to know how to get rid of it."
"Well, you can never truly get rid of schizophrenia – there is always a chance of relapse. But with careful treatments and familial support, we can make sure that she will never have a relapse. Now, you say that" he looked at his chart "Joan has been having hallucinations?"
"She told us that God has been talking to her," her mother said.
"A common delusion," the doctor said. Joan, indifferent to him before this point, now hated him. "Most people want to feel important in some way and what better way to be important than be God's chosen one? Has she had any violent incidents before?"
"There was an incident a couple of months ago," her father said. "She smashed a boy's… statue at school. But we went to therapy for it."
"Often times, just therapy isn't enough. Don't worry, we'll put her on some anti-psychotic medications – Clozapine, Risperdal, Zyprexa."
"Will we have to… leave her here?" her mother asked.
"I'm afraid so," the doctor said. "It's the only way for us to know that she's been taking the medication daily. At home, she might skip meds, which could mean a relapse."
A tear rolled down her mother's cheek. Joan hated this the most. She didn't want to cause her parents pain. She didn't want this at all. She should have never told them…
"If you want, we can show you where Joan will be staying," the doctor said. Her mother just nodded, unable to speak. The doctor got up and led them out of his office and down a white corridor.
The doctor opened a door, revealing a room that was drab in its averageness. Everything was either white or gray. There were two beds, one of which was perfectly smooth and boring. The other, however, was occupied.
"This will be Joan's roommate," the doctor said. It was the girl she saw in the hallway – the one with desperate eyes. She had her arms wrapped around her knees, her eyes pointed to the linoleum floor.
"She's not… violent, is she?" her father asked.
"No, no," the doctor said. "She has a different case of schizophrenia, but it doesn't make her violent. In fact, she spends most days in her room curled up like that."
"Doesn't the medication help?" her mother asked.
"The medication only goes so far," the doctor explained, "as does familial support. The patient has to want to come out from her delusions. The poor girl… her mother and father come very week to check up on her."
Joan looked at the blonde girl. Was this what she would become? Trapped in her own head unable to do anything? And yet… and yet there was something about this girl that called out to her. She didn't know what it was.
"If you come with me I can show you some of our other rooms," the doctor said.
"Can I stay here?" Joan asked. This was the first she had spoken inside the hospital.
Her mother and father exchanged glances. "Sure, honey. You can lie down, if you want."
"Thank you," Joan whispered. Her parents followed the doctor outside and Joan was left alone with the blonde girl.
Joan sat down on the bed she would be sleeping in. "So," she said to the girl, "the food here must really suck." The girl kept staring at the floor. "My name's Joan. Joan Girardi. What's your name?" No response. Joan tried another tactic. "I talk to God."
The girl looked up from the floor and Joan could see her eyes were greenish-brown. Unexpectedly, the girl said. "Buffy. Buffy Summers."