Hi all!! More Erik in this chapter! Whoohoo! Everyone loves Erik!! :) Who thought Erik's attempt last chapter seemed maybe out of character? Really, I mean, we all know Erik! He'd never do something like that... So I'm sure you're all wondering just what your Scorpion was thinking when she wrote it...Wellllll you weren't the only ones who were wondering! In this chapter, a well-meaning psychiatrist talks to Erik to get his reasoning out of him... Special thanks to Krista for her rp contribution of the character of Dr. Fields!

Love, fmeek, and cookies!!

Three Days After the Argument

Dr. James Fields was a tall man with light blonde hair and dark brown eyes. Somewhere in his late thirties, his vocation shone in the field of psychiatry. It wasn't that he had any sort of particular affinity for inmates, but it seemed that psychological analyses of prisoners was just the living fate had chosen for him. Maybe he believed in fate, but that wasn't the big question; the question was Why? Always: Why? And he was good at answering that question. Why do certain people indulge in sudden and abnormal behavior? Dangerous behavior? Threatening behavior? Why did this man, Erik (No Given Surname) as the report called him, attempt suicide four days ago? He would find out. It wasn't so difficult, really. The trick was that it was actually rather simple. There were only two possible answers to the question: A logical explanation or Insanity.

The room itself was bare; cheap table, a couple chairs, grey walls, no window, a security camera in the corner, you know the sort. Today the camera was unplugged. Confidentiality regulations were specific about such matters.

Fields's coffee was getting cold, and he regretted not having put a top on the cup to keep the steam from escaping. He didn't mind waiting while the security guards took their time to bring Erik (No Given Surname) to his Tuesday morning psychiatric analysis appointment; Fields only had more time to think that way. Thinking was critical, after all. He'd always believed that the most cherished thing a person possessed was the absolute and complete control over his own mind. And the loss of that control, so to say insanity, was perhaps the greatest tragedy of all. But that was what made it also the greatest curiosity...

Thoughts about thoughts were cut short at last by the arrival of Erik (No Given Surname). Two things Fields noticed off the bat: The man did not exactly seem in top physical condition to phrase the observation mildly...Though gloriously tall in stature, there were obvious characteristics about his movements that betrayed a weakened aspect of his figure. Of course, such a condition was completely to be expected after the severe medical treatments that had been administered to Erik (No Given Surname) in order to revive him from his handshake with death. According to the reports, the call had been closer than close. Most men would not have survived whatever it was that Erik (No Given Surname) had done to himself, but as one of the medical analysts had said probably only half in jest, Erik must have had the inherit physical prowess of an immortal. The sad thing, at least to Erik's perception, was that the fact was true...And his attempted suicide had failed quite successfully.

The second thing about Erik (No Given Surname) that Fields noticed was his mask.

It was this second thing that sparked his interest, but the one he addressed, as soon as the guards had gone, was the first:

"Hello Erik; how do you feel today?"

Erik kept his eyes on the doctor as he took his seat on the opposite side of the table. "The same way I always do. Usually with my hands. Though if you would like me to be more specific, the nerve endings under my skin transmit signals to my brain and thereby alert my sense of touch that something has been felt."

Fields lifted an eyebrow. He had been hoping today's examination perhaps wouldn't be difficult, but was already now foreseeing otherwise. "Are you generally this sarcastic?"

Erik answered with sarcasm simply for the sake of answering with sarcasm. "Not at all."

"Then this is special just for me? Thank you." Fields straightened the papers in front of him as he took a moment to assess the few exchanges that had been made so far and to decide upon a method of approach. He was used to embittered and sardonic patients and knew well how to deal with them. In fact, it was very common for the patient to feel resentful of his evaluation and take out that antipathy on the evaluator (In this case, Fields) himself in such a fashion. It was only a matter of determining the accurate motive for the accompanying derisive actions and comments. And that was, of course, where Fields excelled.

Erik said nothing in response to his examiner's comment and only continued to study the doctor in that way of his that seems to have the inconvenient side-effect of making the objects of his study slightly hot under the collar.

"I was simply curious about your physical state..." Fields explained his first question. "I understand you tried to kill yourself last week." As he spoke, he watched closely to judge Erik's reaction to the words. The answer to the big question, you see, wasn't always in the words, but even more in the body language. Fields was keen on that matter. Also, it was to look to Mr. (No Given Surname)'s actions that Fields attempted to deduce if Erik's sarcasm was possibly a front hiding something invaluable.

Erik leaned back a little where he sat. "Do you? Well then, your abilities of factual comprehension seem to be working normally."

"They usually are," Fields answered simply. Before he continued, though, he wanted to make certain that Erik (No Given Surname) had been informed of the implications of their meeting today. "In light of this attempt, however, you have to talk with me."

Erik knew that. So he didn't say anything. But he was still watching Fields. The way a tiger watches the supple and meaty hand that feeds it.

Now Fields was both put a bit on edge and not sure whether Erik (No Given Surname) had been properly notified or not. Perhaps he should have said something in the beginning... "You were informed of this?"

"It was mentioned to me."

Fields's task, initially, was to gain Erik's trust enough in order to get the patient to confide in him his reason for trying to kill himself. However, Fields didn't see that happening any time soon. He postponed that operation and decided to take the direct route for the time being. "So what drove you to try taking your life, Erik?" Getting personal sometimes helped. If Fields could make his patient feel he was on a more equal level with him, create a less tense atmosphere in the room, but still get to the point, he might just get somewhere. So, expecting a personal answer from Erik, Fields clasped his hands on the table and leaned forward slightly.

"The desire to be dead." Erik's dryly spoken equivocal answer was beyond disappointing.

"Clearly." Fields sat straight again. He tried not to be affected and asked the next logical question, "What created that desire?"

"A distaste for being alive."

That was even worse...Fields was not sure whether to be amused or irritated now at Erik's purposeful and very successful attempts to be a pain in the ass.

"And why would you have a distaste for being alive?"

"At this moment? Because I happen to find your questioning annoying."

Fields unfolded his hands and decided to throw in his next card. "Did Miss Daaé annoy you? You had a visit from her shortly before your attempt, did you not?"

A little button pushing...As Fields watched this illusive and enigmatic Erik (No Given Surname) closely, he caught the intense narrowing of the eyes behind that mask. Could this be the right button?

"I did."

So Miss Daaé was a sensitive subject...Might be the right button. "So did her visit have some bearing on your distaste for living?"

"No, I actually happen to be fond of Miss Daaé." They must have been the most commonplace words Erik had uttered yet.

Not the right button... "So why the sudden desire to be dead?" Fields was pressing a bit harder now.

Erik only shrugged his shoulders a little and answered with dull patronization. "Perhaps I somehow subconsciously and psychically knew that if I did, I would be able to be here today talking to your wonderful personage."

So Mr. (No Given Surname) seemed to find himself funny. Fields didn't share the opinion. His responding words were flat. "I am flattered."

"If you were flattered by that, I really do pity you." Erik shook his head, disappointedly. "Perhaps you ought to get out more."

Fields wasn't interested in Erik (No Given Surname)'s mock pity. "Not really. But you seem to enjoy being humored." He needed to get back to the question at hand.

Erik didn't say anything to acknowledge Fields's low blow and continued to stare at the doctor while absently tapping a finger against the top of the table.

The doctor watched his patient for a moment without speaking. To be honest, he was a little at a loss for what to say next. He had to gauge Erik's array of reactions just enough to decide where to take his angle. It was obvious now this patient wasn't about to be taken in by any ruses. It seemed that Erik (No Given Surname) knew exactly where Fields was going...So Fields might as well get there.

"Do you still have that distaste for living?"

"Well, considering that you're still asking me questions..."

Fields only responded with a slight shrug before speaking. He had seen a vast selection of psychologically disturbed prisoners in his day. Why should this one affect him any differently? "I'm just doing my job...They are paying me to annoy you with my questions."

"Do you enjoy your job?"

"Immensely." The patient was asking questions! Fields saw that he could use this advantage to attempt to gain Erik's trust now. If Erik truly took and interest in the doctor, then a friendly conversation could open up avenues to progress in Fields ultimate goal here. The only problem was that Erik truly didn't give a damn about Dr. James Fields...But Dr. Fields didn't know that.

"How refreshing to hear in today's world," Erik answered in a perfectly relaxed tone as if he really did think it was refreshing. "Have you always wanted to pursue this area of employment?"

Fields was a little confused. Not by the question so much, but more by the fact that Erik had asked it. "Which area do you refer to? The field of psychiatry or to sit here and irritate you?"

Erik was patient with him. "This division of psychiatry."

Fields saw no harm in answering and did so rather candidly. All to give Erik more comfort in conversation with him, of course. "Yes, since I was seven years old."

As far as Fields could tell, Erik seemed genuinely interested. "Oh really?" Erik was talented at seeming. "And what happened when you were seven to bring you to such a decision?"

"I talked someone out of committing suicide." Fields was only being honest.

Erik nodded understandingly. "That must have been a very pivotal point in your life."

"It was." Fields was quite muddled now and wondered just how the conversation had so completely turned from Erik's death wish to Fields's own childhood. He was attempting to insert a link back to the main subject as Erik rested his elbows on the table and lightly tapped his fingers together.

"So you've had a lot of personal acquaintance with the matters of suicide." The mocking tone was only now just vaguely noticeable in Erik's words. And there was something about his next question that filled Fields with a distinctive sense of darkness. "Tell me, Doctor, have you ever felt the desire to be suicidal yourself?"

Fields shook his head a little, trying to push off the intonation of Erik's voice. He saw an opportunity now to regain the upper hand. "No I haven't, but I always wonder what causes one to become suicidal...What was it for you?"

Now he was back to Erik!

Erik laughed and sat back again. "A lack of sanity, perhaps? That is what you're getting at, isn't it, Dr. Fields?" Erik saw no sense in beating around the bush, after all.

Fields was not calling Erik insane and he did not appreciate Erik accusing him of saying so. However, if Fields could not derive a logical explanation for Erik's attempted suicide, there was only one other possible answer to the question. Fields chose his words carefully:

"Since I've not gotten a straight answer from you, I don't seem to be getting at anything at the moment."

Allowing the doctor to get at nothing, of course, was Erik's precise intention. "That must not make you a very good psychiatrist."

"Perhaps..." Fields wasn't about to allow this patient to offend him and continued to display nothing other than collected calmness in his outward expression. It should have been so incredibly simple...So why did he have to so strongly remind himself that this was what he was supposed to be good at?

Erik wasn't put off a bit. However, he was becoming a little tired of this inquisition. He was not much longer particularly feeling obligated to stay on an even battleground with his opponent here and certainly wasn't above using the magic that was his voice to hasten the meeting's closure. "Perhaps you had better leave..."

Fields didn't quite understand the urging effect the cadence of Erik's words unexpectedly had on his sudden desire to get up and walk out of the room...But he was a professional in the area of the mind and pushed the strange feelings aside and only responded to the words themselves. "You aren't enjoying our little chat as much as I am?"

"Oh forgive me," Erik all but scoffed. "I didn't know you were here to be amused."

"You certainly seem to be amused."

Erik's irritation was growing. He did not feel well at all and felt his usual good humor and impeccable patience were worn threadbare. Usually when he fought a skirmish of wits, he liked to play fair, but Erik hadn't had a very pleasant last few days. For that matter, Erik hadn't had a very pleasant last few months. And for that matter, Erik sure as hell hadn't had a very damn pleasant life. For the moment, he let his bad mood take over and glared threateningly at Dr. Fields. "Do you know what I do to people like you?"

It wasn't that Fields didn't feel threatened...No, he felt exceedingly threatened...But he was Dr. James Fields, master of the human mind! He reminded himself assuredly that it was he who held the power in this situation. One raised word and the guards would be back in the room, and Mr. Erik (No Given Surname) would be locked in one of the padded white chambers of an asylum for eternity. The assurance was enough for Fields to keep his expression cool and his tone even. "Why don't you enlighten me? It could certainly get you declared insane if that is what you want."

What Erik did want...What could Dr. Fields know of what Erik might want? Perhaps Erik wanted to see the life slowly fade from Fields's dark brown eyes as the light blonde hair over his skull turned red with thick blood. Or perhaps Erik only wanted a glass of water. Not once had Erik ever been offered a glass of water...

The continually lengthening moment of silence that was rent blacker and blacker by Erik's unbroken, glowing glare was shattered, suddenly and gradually in the same nonsensical sense, by the hauntingly light laughter that rose out of the grey walls and richened the cheap table.

It took Fields a moment to realize that Erik was laughing at him, and when he did realize it, he wasn't sure whether to be insulted, relieved, or offended... "Delighted I could amuse you."

And Erik was highly amused! He continued to laugh for a couple more minutes until he felt the need to suppress an irksome cough that had beset him since they'd so kindly purged his system the other day to save his life. He stood then and stepped away from the table.

Fields watched him closely. "Does this mean you don't want to chat any longer? I was really hoping to get an answer to my question."

"And what if you don't?" Erik actually wanted to know.

Fields made a point to stay seated. "I tell those nice guards on the other side of the door that I think you are still suicidal, and you get put back on suicide watch with no visitors. Is that what you want, Erik?"

That was not what Erik wanted. But there was more than one end to these means. "I am not suicidal and have never been suicidal."

"If that were true, you wouldn't have tried to commit suicide."

Erik answered quickly and rhetorically. "Wouldn't I have?"

"I don't believe so..." Now Fields wasn't at all very sure...

"What one believes is not always what is." Erik absently paced to the other side of the room. Wouldn't he have...That was the question...That was the answer. His next inquiry appeared rather random:

"Do you believe in God?"

"Most days. Do you?" Could religion be part of the answer? Fields tried to catch at this opportunity...It seemed as if Erik might confide in him after all.

And perhaps Erik was about to...Or perhaps he was only processing his own thoughts. Did he believe in God? It depended on the day of the week. Internally, he laughed at the cynicism of his own mental answer. He had been raised by a devout Catholic mother who'd instilled in him all the horrors and punishments of religion, but he had learned at such an early age to forsake God...It was a few more moments before he spoke again:

"Do you believe in Hell?"

Fields was disappointed to have not received an answer to his question. "I haven't decided that yet." What did Hell have to do with suicide? "Do you?"

Erik turned around and looked at the other man. His manner had changed completely. "If you are such a highly skilled professional, why can't you ask your own questions?"

Fields smirked slightly. "I tried that earlier, but since you didn't seem to wish to answer my questions, I thought I'd try yours. You don't like that?"

Erik folded his arms across his chest. "What do people usually tell you when you ask your questions?"

Fields wasn't quite sure what Erik was getting at... "It depends."

"Pick one." The impatience in Erik's command lent an even sharper edge to the score of his words.

"In my prison work," Fields explained honestly, "They tell me as little as they can get away with."

"And you need something to tell your guards..." The statement was thoughtful as well as persuasive.

Fields didn't seem to pick up on either aspect. "The guards, your lawyers, the prosecutors..."

Erik made his way back to the table and shrugged his shoulders casually as if he could see the future perfectly. "Well, I don't care what you choose; tell them whatever it takes to make them lower their guard over me."

Fields wasn't quite sure if Erik meant what he seemed to mean. "Then I suggest you give me some reason to tell them you won't try to kill yourself again."

But Erik was getting at something. "I'm sure you've heard enough in your day to make one up yourself."

"I don't make up anything I put in my report." Fields took a brief moment to make sure all of his judgments were in order. "It wouldn't make me a very good psychiatrist."

But that was the point. Erik didn't need this man to be a good psychiatrist; Fields would serve Erik perfectly well if he could be a good contrivance. Erik put his hands on the table and leaned forward to minimize the distance his penetrating gaze needed to slice into the psychiatrist's psyche. Without a single red flag of warning, Erik drew his most powerful weapon and instantaneously pulled Dr. Fields under the hypnotic control of his voice.

"You will this time."

It was pathetic, really...In an instant, Dr. James Fields, mental master, had lost that complete control over his own mind that he had always so highly esteemed. In a few simple words from Erik's inhuman lips, this man, whose life had been devoted to the study of the human mind since the age of seven, had become nothing more than a senseless puppet. The doctor's eyes fluttered slowly and he gave no verbal response.

Erik's tone deepened, and he twisted the particular aspect of his vocal power from creating inaction to promoting reaction. "You will tell them whatever it takes. You will make them believe that there is no danger whatsoever. And you will never remember the truth." And that wonderful, magical mental manipulation was becoming perfectly effective. "Do we have an understanding?"

Fields's hesitant and partial word was soft, "Ye—..." He shook his head vaguely, cutting himself off. From his point of view, he was having a dreadfully difficult time of seeing through his confusion. Erik had taken complete hold of the psychiatrist's reason.

It was a simple matter for Erik to intensify his power and he repeated the question to make certain there was no disagreement on the matter. "Answer me. Do we have an understanding?"

Field's answer then was austere, obedient, and just barely audible. "Yes."

The poor shrink was no match for Erik.

"Good." Erik sat back in the chair again as he had been and let Fields return to himself. When he saw the sense of comprehension reappear in his conquered opponent's eyes, he spoke as if the initial conversation had never been interrupted. "Do you have any more questions for me, Doctor?"

"No, I don't believe so," Fields answered with his inherent air of confidence as he thought to himself that his meeting with the numinous Erik (No Given Surname) had gone rather well.

And it had.

Not that Fields would ever remember the truth, of course.