Kat suddenly found herself wishing she was standing up, rather than sitting opposite her boss and his desk with its ostentatious mahogany sheen. She needed no formal training at all to appreciate that the atmosphere in the office was dangerous, and that Mereii's apparent calm was a tightrope with Christ knew what lurking below.
"Yes" she said, tentatively. She knew very well that the report was a load of bull, but having spent some three hours that night piecing it together, she considered it carefully-worded, high-grade bull, designed to make Mereii believe she was making the "progress" he wanted. This had mostly involved justifying Otto's current state by means of various theories and explanations, all of which coincidentally happened to omit the fact that she had entirely removed his medication.
Tap, tap, tapTAP. "I asked you, as I recall, to assess this man's mental situation, and to, heh, harvest any information he might have that concerned his past actions. I also asked you, as I would ask any employee, to present me with a report."
The bleak grey city scenery which was visible on the other side of the office window had never before looked so attractive to Kat's eyes. "Yes."
Discarding the pen, Mereii leaned forwards, picking up the top page of the document before him between finger and thumb. "Thisis not a report, Miss Morrigan."
Kat swallowed. We have officially advanced to Defcom Five. Use of surnames compulsory.
"I'mnot sure what you-"
"This," her boss continued, as if she hadn't spoken, "is a word-processed, ten-page, footnoted, alibi." He skimmed through the pages, his calm visibly deteriorating with each flick. "Diminished responsibility''immense inner upheaval'Kat, are you analyzing this man, or absolvinghim?"
"I-"
"Katarina, I need hardly remind you that your position here is tenuous." Mereii practically growled, pushing her report aside. "I have no interest in whatever misguided preconceptions you may have concerning this patient, but if you had a shred of professional integrity you'd realize-"
That did it. Kat was on her feet and yelling before she could quite work out how she'd got there.
"Professional integrity! I'm doing everything I CAN, John! Up until two days ago, Otto was the least responsive patient I've ever seen, let alone had to interact with!" She snatched her report, almost shaking the pages in his face. "I'm lucky I even managed to get THIS much! I'd like to see you try-"
John Mereii stood up. The sudden movement effectively silenced the young woman, whose rage subsided instantly, replaced by an indefinable dread. A feeling which was very definably connected to the new, calm, and above all cold expression that had entered the man's eyes.
"Very well, then, Kat." he said. "I will."
Kat had to practically run to keep up with Dr. Mereii as he strode down the deserted seventh-floor corridor. His eyes were turned resolutely to the front, and he was deaf to her carefully phrased (but increasingly urgent) queries concerning what exactly it was that he was about to do. Kat had a horribly good idea that it was something to do with the small glass bottle and syringe that her employer had obtained from the first-floor orderlies' station on the way up, and the notion was making her feel sick to her stomach. As they passed 708 and 9 without a pause, she made one last attempt.
"Dr. Mereii, what are you-"
She was cut off by the placid beep which announced that Mereii, John N' had been recognised by the key card system. Mereii turned finally to face her, his hand on the door panel, a shark's smile animating his face.
"Think of this asa tutorial, Kat. Watch, and learn."
Hsssss.
Otto looked up as they entered. This in itself was a surprise, given his condition earlier that day, and Kat started to wonder whether this could possibly signal that some of the medication was starting to wear off. That his focus appeared to have something in the way of direction about it was another favourable hint. His perpetually lost expression hadn't lessened, however, and, from his position in the centre of the snared cords of his tentacles, he looked at Kat seemingly without recognition before turning his head to watch her employer.
Mereii took the bottle from its container and examined the label. Kat guessed that whatever it contained, it was legal- Mereii wouldn't risk exposing his nasty little secret to her in this manner- but that didn't help the sick feeling that was still building up somewhere in her chest.
"Youwere hereweren't you?"
The question was so conventionally phrased that it took Kat a second to realise that it had been Otto who had spoken. The young woman started, turning from her study of Mereii and finding herself confronted by a pair of bewildered, nearly-aware hazel eyes.
If she had been alone with him, she would have dropped down to his level in an instant and talked her heart out, anything to help him up those last few tiny steps to sanity. But she wasn't alone, and she knew that Dr. Mereii hadn't missed Otto's faltering question, although he ignored it as if he had.
"Kat," he said, calmly, "I'll need to administer this injection. If you wouldn't mind just holding him still for a moment?"
"Ummwell," said Kat, carefully, "He looks responsive enough as it is right now, John. I think-'
"You are not paid to think, Kat." said Mereii, still smiling. Kat opened her mouth to reply that she damn well was, as it happened, but then thought better of it. Mereii's smile was of the sort that lies on tropical riverbanks waiting for unwary tourists.
"In fact," he continued, "that's entirely the problem. You seem to have been labouring under the misapprehension that your goal lies in getting this patient to willingly respond to you." He removed the sterile cap from the syringe tip and punctured the seal of the bottle with it, drawing the fluid upwards with a practised twitch of his thumb. "The problem with that, of course, is that a mind like this has already deteriorated far beyond the point of useful response."
"I disagree," said Kat, hotly. Mereii gave her an indulging, mentorish look that made her want to kick his teeth into next Tuesday.
"I'm sure you do. Now, please give me the patient's arm."
Kat would have been more than happy to oblige, at that moment, though not at all in the way her employee meant. She would have dearly loved to have given him all six of them, fully able and aware, and to have been able to sit back and watch to see which one would close around the bastard's throat first. Her feelings were amplified by the way in which Otto had stopped trying to focus on her or Mereii, and was now entirely occupied in watching the syringe in the man's hand. Clearly, the very sight of such a thing caused him unease, and it didn't take a genius to guess why.
Dr. Mereii was still watching her closely, and Kat realised that there was no way out of this. She could either refuse, and be dismissed, losing her access to Otto and maybe even whatever chance she might have had to rescue him from this nightmare, or comply and hope that whatever Mereii had in mind (and in the syringe) wouldn't be too damaging. What choice did she have?
None.
Slowly, she knelt by Otto's side and loosened the catch on the side of his straitjacket, releasing the strap that kept his left sleeve bound to his right shoulder. As she lifted the arm, which was just as much of a dead weight as the mechanical ones at his back, she couldn't help touching his wrist through the cloth, and the wasted feel of it chilled her.
She pulled the trailing white sleeve up over Otto's hand, trying to avoid his face. A sideways glance told her that yes, he was looking at her, and she could have sworn that there was a flicker of wounded betrayal in those now definitely worried eyes. Whether or not this was real or a fabrication of her guilty mind was uncertain, but it stung her to the core nevertheless. For a moment, she seriously considered getting up, decking Mereii with her clipboard, and just making a run for it. Then she looked down and saw what she had uncovered, and the thought vanished.
Until about four inches after the wrist, Otto's left arm was more or less normal. Above this, however, it was a mess. In fact, it looked distinctly as if it had been attacked by a demented acupuncturist with a grudge. Needle tracks followed the lines of the main arteries, mapping them out like a join-the-dots picture, stratas of bruised or half-healed punctures that showed up starkly against his bloodless skin right up to the shoulder. They were perfectly normal, yes, if something that looked so atrocious could ever be called that. Competent injections tended to leave such marksbut there were just so many of them
Her thoughts were interrupted as Mereii moved quickly to stoop alongside her, still busy tapping and testing the needle to remove any air bubbles. "Thank you." he said, briskly, and gave the instrument a last, appraising stare, entirely coincidentally holding it barely half a foot from Otto's mesmerized eyes. Kat bit her lip, and closed her own.
Somehow, the fact that Otto made no sound made it worse. A few moments passed in silence, and then there was a shift in the air at her side as Mereii stood up to put the syringe back in the holdall. She opened her eyes, and occupied herself with re-covering and re-tethering the left arm. As she did so, she looked desperately up into Otto's face, trying with everything she had to somehow communicate her thoughts to him, just as the smart arms had done, mind to mind. I'm so sorry, Otto, I had to let it happen, there was nothing else I could do. I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm-
"Kat." said Mereii, impatiently, from behind her. Turning, she stood up, trying to control her helpless rage enough to keep her expression blank as her employer flapped a hand to indicate that she should watch from the side. With a sinking heart, she noticed that Otto's eyes were already glazing over, taking on a feverish pall. Whatever it was that had just entered his system, it was clearly no ally of the progress she and Escher had made.
Dr. Mereii rummaged efficiently through his briefcase, pulling out papers as he spoke. "Now, Mr. Octavius, we're going to do a little exercise, all right? Kat here tells me you've been having some problems with your memory. Is that right?" His voice was sing-song, condescending in the extreme. When there was no reply, he merely nodded and wrote carefully on a sheet of notepaper.
"Patientto answersimple query."
"Hey," said Kat, sharply, "he can sometimes, he just-"
"Yes, Katarina?" Another too-bright smile. Kat stared back, sensing the danger.
"-nothing."
"Good. You have to realise, Kat, that although this man might have been of above average intelligence, that has little to do with the mind we are assessing now." He raised an eyebrow, taking a pen out of his pocket protector. "Metaphorically speaking, whatever little remains of that intellect is trapped in there, pointlessly pushing at a mental door marked pull'. Rather an amusing picture, hmm?"
Without waiting to see if Kat was likewise amused', Mereii turned back to Otto. He started to idly pace the padded floor, a few steps either way, shuffling through the papers in his hands.
"Well, Mr. Octavius, I've taken the liberty of preparing a few visual aids for our session today. Let's see if we can jog your memory, hmm?" He turned to Kat, his voice switching back to its normal, chilly self as he held out a stack of what looked like photographs. "Keep these face down and hand them to me one by one."
He resumed his pacing. "Do you know why you're here, Mr. Octavius?"
This time, Otto's eyelids flickered slightly, and he managed a reply. "?"
"Yes." said Mereii, bluntly. "You're ill. You're sick, and, more to the point, you're dangerous. Too dangerous, in fact, to be allowed anywhere near ordinary, healthy, normal people. That's why you're here, and that's why people like Miss Morrigan here are paid to visit you and pretend to be interested in your deluded ramblings. Photo, Kat."
Wordlessly, Kat held out the first photo in fingers that were literally shaking with anger and loathing. In one swift movement, Mereii turned it over and held it in front of Otto's eyes.
"Case in point. These particular ordinary people were all competent medical professionals, like me. They probably saved a lot of lives, and would doubtless still be doing so today, if not for you. Photo, Kat."
He flicked the first image to the floor. It landed face down, but Kat could nevertheless imagine its content. She felt sick, and she hadn't been forced to see it.
"Now, these people would be alive today if they hadn't chosen the wrong night and the wrong club to visit. Again, normal, innocent people. Do you remember, Mr. Octavius? Do you remember who did this to them? Please, feel free to share any observations you might have."
That night distinctly appeared in Kat's mind. He had gone to Fallen; she had thought of going, but had been persuaded to head to Cat's Eye instead. It was then she had learned of the distinct different between the tentacles and Otto. It was then that she'd started to understand him on a wider scale, start to get the big picture. That memory made her smile inside, but the fact he'd killed someone didn't. And she remembered the way he'd reacted, what she said, and everything else, like it had happened yesterday.
She was glad for her own thoughts, for every happy ideal she'd had in those precious few seconds disappeared as she glanced over to Otto.
Her heart thudded double-time, and after that glance, Kat could hardly bear to look at her friend, who was shrinking away from this latest picture with a dazed expression of utter horror. An unreasoning guilt was growing in his deadened eyes, increasing as Mereii's words penetrated his clouded mind.
"II didn'tI didn'tit was-'
"-YOU, Mr. Octavius. Photo, Kat."
"Dr. Mereii," said Kat, through gritted teeth, "I don't think-"
"Photo. Kat."
The next image was twitched from her hand. Mereii advanced on Otto, who had backed away as much as the loops of his restrained actuators allowed, which wasn't much. "This is the 9:15 train to Uptown and Queens. It carried three hundred and forty six passengers. As you can see, because of you it suffered something of aterminal diversion." The psychologist stooped rapidly, placing himself practically nose-to-nose with his shellshocked patient'. "Have you any idea how many people could have been killed that day, because of you? Have you any conception of how many lives you've destroyed?"
Behind him, Kat looked up, startled. The condescending tone had slipped for a second, revealing a strangled note of pure hatred. Carefully, she turned the next photo over to see what it was.
She gave it a glance
one glance was enough. Hands working practically on instinct, she grabbed the image off the pile and shoved it under the paper of her report that was still tacked to her clipboard, heart thumping.
"Clearly not." Mereii was saying. "Not enough, in any case. Kat?"
He took the photo she handed him, and gave it a puzzled glance. "HmmI seem to have gotten these out of order." he murmured, eventually, taking the pile from her and riffling through them. "Anyway, Mr. Octaviushopefully I've given you an insight into exactly what manner ofyou are. I'm sure that if you remember-"
He was cut off, suddenly, by Otto's voice, low and shaky but desperately determined. "Youyou're wrong."
John Mereii stopped his pacing as if he'd walked into an invisible wall. He stood still for a moment, his back turned to Kat, his expression hidden. Then, he turned and crouched in one movement, hissing into the doctor's face.
"You'remonster, Otto Octavius."
"DR. MEREII!"
It took Kat a second to realise that she had been the one who'd spoken, or, more accurately, screamed. Once she did, however, her brain worked at super-speed, sending her hand down to the cell phone in her pocket, fingers secretly punching out Escher's home number.
"I'm so sorry," she said with acidic sweetness, as her employer turned vituperatively towards her, "my cellie's vibrating. Hold on a second." She gave him a God-am-I-blonde grin and put the phone to her ear. "Mmyep, Kat speakingOh, Escher, hi. Look, I'm glad you rang- something's come upI know I said I wouldn't need you before Sunday but Dr. Mereii's just kindlyclarified the situation for me, and I think I'd like to try something Saturday, 9 AM. Can you make that?"
"what?" said Escher, in her ear. "Kat, is that you? You never said anything about Sunday in the first place. Are you okay?"
"Oh, yeah." said Kat, still grinning and rolling her eyes for Mereii's benefit. The psychologist had stood up and was now watching her suspiciously. "John's just been giving me a few ideas on how to achieve progress."
"But youoh." Escher's voice dropped to an alarmed whisper. "Is Otto okay?"
"No." said Kat in the same, cheery voice, looking straight at Mereii as she did so. "Gotta go, okay? See you then."
She clicked the phone off, shrugging apologetically at her boss. Mereii looked as if he was about to say something, but after a dangerously long period of volatile staring he simply nodded and turned back to the matter in hand.
Once again composed, Mereii tapped his pen against the nearest tentacle. "You see, Mr. Octavius, Kat might be happy to attribute your unconscionable actions to thesethings, or at least to play along with your delusions of yourself as a decent' or honourable' manbut others, myself among them, are not so gullible. I only hope that the treatments we can give you here will allow you to see yourself as I do"
Mereii gathered up the photos from the floor, giving his so-called patient a final, dismissive glance. Kat, still standing helplessly by the door, became aware that her grip had tightened on her clipboard to such an extent that it was cutting off the circulation in her knuckles. She could hardly believe what she had just witnessed. When they had entered the cell, Otto had been awake, partially lucid, and generally responsive. But nowhe was shaking like a malaria victim, and his grey-shadowed eyes were screwed shut, as if in an attempt to block out the terrible images that he'd just seen. Images that he was evidently still seeing, replayed ad infinitum inside the exclusive horror show theatre of his crippled mind.
Mereii allowed himself a small smirk as he walked for the door, shooing Kat in front of him.
"But I can see that you have already begun."
As the door hssss'd shut behind them, Mereii paused for a moment to sort through his papers and fold them back into his case, along with the bottle and the syringe. Biting her lip nearly hard enough to bleed, Kat looked back through the observation panel into room 712.
And as she watched through the glass, Otto Octavius keeled slowly over onto his side in the center of his dead tentacles, curling in on himself like a man with a mortal wound.
Katarina Morrigan was horrified.
No... she thought to herself, nodding. I don't think here's even a word for this.
Kat was never a big fan of trying to get information from people when they didn't give it willingly. She held the view that if someone didn't tell you something, they didn't want you to know, and doing what John had just done to Otto was not at all the right thing.
No, she thought to herself again. John had no intention of trying to heal Otto, or make him a better person, or anything. He was torturing her friend. Torturing, with a sort of hideously cruel self-doubt that no human being, and especially not Otto, after what he had gone through, should have to deal with.
John Mereii was insane.
Orshe reflected as she stared out into the standard traffic, passing her apartment with Miss Griffin's residence in mind Revenge?
The thought was an odd one indeed, but it made sense. His words, his anger, his vengeance, it seemed specifically geared toward her friend, for some reason she didn't know. And to be quite honest, she probably didn't want to. But John had geared this torture toward the tentacled doctor and he had a good reason for it. Well, not a good reason but a reason nonetheless
At the next red light, Kat's thumb flicked in the bottom of her bull aka report, flicking up the photograph from between them. She eyed it, her stomach sinking even more (she thought it would be at about China). The woman in the picture, eyes closed in death, was recognizable to her. She'd seen this woman in pictures with Otto, the one he'd loved, dearly so.
John was a monster to do this to her friend, and she would see him eating a lot of pavement or fist or tentacle, whichever came first.
But regardless of this, she pulled into the parallel parking nearest Escher's apartment, which she as spending more and more time in. Very strange. She stepped inside and waited silently in the elevator as it rose, trying to figure out what to say.
Escher glared at the empty canvas, seeking inspiration. Since her experience with Otto and Kat and ew, John, she'd had no ideas at all. This puzzled her, as one would think that finding a friend from five years ago would up heave a massive inspiration, but it had apparently sucked her dry more then anything else.
She was still glaring at the canvas when a faint banging emitted from somewhere near the door. She placed down the pen which had been poking furiously at the canvas and glanced over. The banging continued, and with a sigh, she walked to the door, "WHO IS IT?"
"KAT!"
Escher unhooked the bolt as Kat let herself in. The girl was paler then the artist had last seen her, and she was more mussed then normal. The other few times that Escher had seen Kat, she has been well-dressed, with her hair put up nicely, complete with makeup and the like. This time, it was clear she had been nicely dressed and everything, but her hair was work then normal, the ringlets falling in lumps, and the faintest sheen of sweat coated her face. Her eyes were stricken, almost as if she had seen a ghost.
The tumbling that her organs apparently decided was necessary gave her a very, very bad feeling about this.
"Tomorrow," Was the first word that came tumbling out of her mouth. No greeting. No wit or sarcasm. Escher's organs found it appropriate to tumble some more, and she thought for a moment she felt her heart was where her kidney should be, "We do it, tomorrow. No questions, no declining."
"Otto?"
Kat nodded, and licked her lips to speak, "And if he is insane, we'll get him to another hospital. I think, if I see John once more, I may decide to take these nails," She held up a set of well polished and manicured nails, "And dig them into his eyes, such as one does to a new carton of ice cream, and let his blood drip down his face. And LAUGH. And I am not a sadistic person."
Escher's organs righted themselves but instead twisted in circles, causing a new sort of feeling to rise in her body. A few neurones clicked together in her mind, "What did he do?"
Kat shook her head, "Don't bother asking. You don't want to hear. Just know that it is not a good thing, in fact, I think we can throw it under the laws he's breaking under breaking the bill of rights, eighth amendment, constitutional violations."
Escher blinked a few more times. Her able imagination was still having problems equating the extremely vivid description of revenge that Kat had just given her with the whole not-being-a-sadistic- person thing. Especially since Kat looked like she had stepped straight out of an infomercial about chronic stress in the workplace.
Kat tapped her foot, "Do I really have to make myself nauseous and explain it to you?" She frowned, tapping a low-heeled shoe.
"Errr...," she began. "This may be a stupid question, but putting that aside for a second...are YOU okay? And...no. No, I actually don't think I want to know, this time."
"I'm fine. If not a bit nauseous. Do I REALLY look that bad?" She looked into a conveniently placed mirror. "Oh. I do look that bad. Eep. either way," She shrugged a bit, "What's today? Friday, right?"
"Yeah. That's why I'm here, and not sitting in a classroom-stroke-morgue across town drawing bits of frog anatomy."
"Sounds like fun," She smiled dryly, "Nothing like frog anatomy. Most of my later classes involve prisons, so it's really just a thrilling. But I'm sort of one-minded on saving Otto at the moment, so college has to wait."
Escher sighed, flopping onto a vague shape that might have been an armchair under a dustsheet. "What do you suggest?"
"That's where you come in. I spent the time I WASN'T bullshitting a report - which he didn't fall for, by the way - digging through old newspapers that weren't the Bugle. What's this with the mindmap goggles'?" Kat grinned faintly, "Strange thing is, I understood exactly what they were meant to do and how they did it. Brilliant, I'll admit, but as far as sanity goes, well..." The grin turned to a smirk.
Escher had lost her droopiness pretty quickly at the mention of the goggles. In fact, she now appeared to have a steel rod in her spine, bolt upright and remembering. "They." There was a moment of abject silence. Escher knew those goggles, exactly what and how they were down to every inch of plastic frame and metal chip.
"I remember...it was like he wasn't...in there." She waved her hands vaguely, trying to convey the terrifying blankness she could see so clearly in her mind's eye. "When he wore them, it was like everything that made him... ...well, him...was wiped out." She shuddered despite herself. "I remember there was this red light between the lenses...like the tentacle lights. I have no idea what that red light means...probably something was working with his head, though." Escher swallowed, than spoke slowly, her voice brittle. "I walked in on him when he was testing them out, Kat. He nearly...h-he nearly..."
The other girl leaned in, listening intently.
"He nearly killed me, Kat."
"We met by him nearly killing me." The voice was nothing more then its standard dryness, "I thwacked an actuator with a baseball bat. He didn't take too kindly to it."
"A baseball bat?" Escher looked up, a disbelieving grin taking over the mildly worrying expression that had formed on her face over the course of the last few sentences. "Wow."
"He was stealing food straight out of my refrigerator for the past week. I thought it was Spider-Man. Saw something go towards my fridge, smacked it. Turned out it was a tentacle instead of Spider-Man." She smirked.
Escher laughed. "The best I managed to do was thump him in the back of the head with a plank."
Kat shook her head, standing and striding over to near the window. "Ohit's been pretty crazy. A friend of mine spilled applesauce all over him. Not a little bit either. A LOT bit. It was funny. I was laughing so hard I was crying."
"I'm not even going to ask." Escher grinned as she got up and wandered to near Kat.
"I saw all about you in the paper." The psychologist replied, "Mmm, trauma."
The girl frowned. "Trauma isn't exactly the word I'd use..."
"What would you use then?" There was a joking hint in her voice, "Perhaps a severely stressful ordeal involving a dangerous criminal?"
Escher picked at a loose thread on the couch. "I don't know exactly. I've had so many people telling me what must have happened over the years that sometimes it feels like...I dunno...the actual experience has been redacted from my memory...if that makes any kind of sense at all." She looked up, appealingly.
"Yeah. I can't remember what it's called but it's someone-or-other's theory that if you think different from a big crowd you'll think you're wrong. But I know what you mean. But actually, it's not your problems that puzzle the hell out of me. It's Otto." She frowned and stared out the window, twirling a bleached ringlet.
"He's a puzzling person." said Escher, smiling with resurrected optimism. "I remember that much."
"It's not just that, though. Even when I knew him," Kat's voice was troubled again, "He was puzzling. But when he was doing this thing with the goggles he was just...angry. Like...I never remember him being that...that angry when I knew him. He was angsty, yeah, and depressed, yeah, but not that...that irritated."
"Well...that was a while after you knew him." said Escher. "How did you...uh...leave him?" She thought a second, then added: "I mean, did he just disappear or what?"
"He was just like it's time for me to go.' because, I don't know, one too many close calls with me or anything and he just...left. Called me occasionally, and we kept in contact with some cell
phone or something he had, and then he just...stopped calling."
"Mmhm." Escher shrugged. "Well, between then and the point where he decided to attack the Science Museum he sure seemed to have gotten some serious issues from somewhere. I guess we'll never know, unless he recovers... and what I've seen so far hasn't exactly given me much hope of that." She flopped onto the couch and started to relace an already perfectly acceptably tied shoe.
"He better recover or else I'll be going to jail on assault and battery on beating the shit out of my boss." Kat responded in a dark growl.
"If it comes to that, you'll have a willing accomplice." Escher was only half joking.
"It's just..." She moved from the window back to the couch, falling over it next to Escher, "I'm going to school for this. I mean, partially because of him. And I can't fix him. I'm feeling really pathetic right now." She grimaced.
"It's okay." said the younger girl quietly. "You're helping. We're helping. That's all we can do."
"You're right." Kat replied firmly, standing up once more and pacing back towards the door, "So tomorrow, 9 AM?"
"Yes." Escher responded, rising too. "If you think there's still hope, I'm...uh...with you all the way."
"If he can live through all he's lived through and get out reasonably sane before this, then we can get him back into that mode." Her voice was not as sure as she would have liked it to be, but she continued anyway, "And if not, I still have to clock John."
"Same here." murmured the younger girl. She wandered over to the nearest shelf and picked up a heavy-duty decorator's roller, hefting it absentmindedly between her hands as she gazed into the middle distance. "See how much progress he makes looking for his teeth, huh?"
The older girl couldn't help a laugh as she opened Escher's door, shaking her head, "And don't be asleep. I don't do well with waking sleeping people. I'm told my methods hurt." A grin followed. She closed the door behind her as she left.
The next morning dawned weirdly misty and still, the sort of day that can only be described as boding. As Kat's Focus drew up into the asylum's small lot, the atmosphere inside twanged with tension. Both Kat and Escher had passed the ride in silence, the older girl paying a great deal more than average attention to the road, while her companion stared out of the window, one leg jiggling as if eager to be somewhere else. It didn't take any feat of empathy to guess that each was thinking along the same lines.
It's our last chance. If we can't wake him up today
then what?
Kat locked her car and walked towards the main doors, with a glance to see that Escher was falling in behind her. Escher followed the psychologist up the stairs, halting at her side as she stopped to check that Mereii wasn't anywhere in sight.
"Okay." Kat said, once she'd leaned around the next corner. "I figure that by now, pretty much all of whatever John's been keeping him under with'll have worn off- that's including the shot from yesterday. So basically, the way he is now is probably what's"
"What's left." finished Escher, quietly.
Kat rubbed the faint scar above her eye. "Yeah. So it's either that he'll be okayor nearly okayrecoverable, whatevernot. And if not, thenwell, i guess we'll have to try and get him moved or something, ifnot."
"Yeah." said the younger girl. "I guess we can't just leave him here."
Kat turned round on her, eyes sparking. "We're NOT leaving him here. Not after what I saw."
The sound of a door opening somewhere out of sight made them both jump. Pulling Escher after her down the narrow hall, Kat reached the first door and swiped her card, the two of them ducking inside just before an orderly turned the corner and headed for the lifts. Kat allowed herself a sigh of relief before switching her attention to the cell's occupant.
"Kitty?" Still in the odd position he'd been in before their hurried entrance, Star looked up at them. Lying half on the floor with his legs reaching up one wall, his attitude reminded Kat strongly of the contorted shapes her friend Halley used to wind up in while watching TV. At the sight of Escher, however, he slid sideways and sat up rapidly.
You brought her back? You said you'd try to get her and that away from me!" He seemed more hurt than angry, for the moment at least; a finger stabbed at that, which was apparently just to Escher's left. "Why did you bring them back? I told you they're bad and they want to take them away from me even worse!"
Kat sighed. The problem was that you just couldn't argue with a schizophrenic about their delusions. An idea which to a psychologist (or any reasonably balanced person for that matter) would seem laughably unbelievable was simple truth to someone like Star, as irrefutable as night following day. Every system of logic in Star's brain told him that the concept of stealers' made perfect sense, so there was no persuading him otherwise. The best you could do was medicateand negotiate.
"It's okay, Star." she said, stepping away from Escher and towards him. "You know I'm not a stealer, right? Remember how you said I've got one following me?"
Star fidgeted, clearly caught right on the edge of his mercurial temperament. Kat watched him carefully, trying to work out how to tip him the right way. "Uh huh. Her. But she's bad and evil, Kitty, and I want her to go away before you start listening to her stealer, too!"
"I won't ever do that." said Kat. "You know why?"
A wary shake.
"Because stealers can't hurt me, Star."
"Why?"
Careful. "I don't know why, they just can't. And while I'm here, they can't hurt you either. Okay?"
The young man looked uncertain. Kat knelt and kept eye contact, talking earnestly. "Has her stealer done anything to you?"
"No"
"Well, it won't, because I told it not to. Didn't I, Escher?"
"Er, yes." said Escher. "Definitely."
"I have to go now," Kat continued, "and I'll take her with me, don't worry. But if you see her again, I want you to remember she's okay. Her stealer won't hurt you, or I promise you, I'll kick its ass."
Star giggled at this, and Kat knew she'd won. For now.
"Okay, Kitty!" Grinning, he rapidly dropped onto his back again. By the time Kat had scooted Escher out into the corridor ahead of her, he was upside down against the wall once more.
Kat paused momentarily outside cell 712. "I kind of wish I hadn't done that." she said, in response to Escher's questioning glance.
"He seems to trust you." said the younger girl. "Wouldn't he believe you if you told him there's no such thing as stealers'?"
Kat gave her a look. "Would you believe me if I told you there's no such thing as gravity'?"
"Er"
"Exactly. Come on, let's get this over with."
If Kat had been hoping for a miracle, her first glance at Otto would have shot that hope out of the sky. As the door hsss'd shut behind them, she approached the still figure of her old friend, who did not so much as blink. Escher made a move forwards, too, but Kat touched her arm, indicating that she should stay near the door in case another orderly came along. The girl nodded, and stood back.
"Otto?" Kat half-whispered, sitting down so she was directly in front of him. "Otto, it's me, Kat."
His pupils were undilated, she noticed, but his eyes were still dull. She had been right- the drugs had worn off- but there was no change for the better, none. He was entirely motionless, watching infinity. Gone.
"Otto," Kat hissed, fighting a spiky lump of despair that felt lodged in her vocal chords, "you have to help me out here. I'm all out of ideas." Riding the despair came anger, rage aimed not at him but at what he'd become, at the unimaginable pressures that had forced him to this state. Past reason, she found herself yelling, her voice choked. "I can't help you if I can't get through! GODDAMNIT, OTTO, TALK TO ME!"
There was no response.
Kat slumped back, a hand running aimlessly through her hair. As a psychiatrist, she was beaten. As a friend, she was beaten. The only even remotely good thing she could think of was that he looked calm. She hoped, fervently, that whatever was left inside him was somehow at peacealthough the only remnant of expression that remained on his pallid face worried her terribly. It was unchanged from the first time she'd seen him here; the faint but unmistakable look of being lost.
"Oh, Otto" Kat said, quietly. "You're not coming back, are you?"
Then she stood up, slowly, her vision hazed with shreds of memory. It seemed so unfair that she could restore him to what he'd been in a heartbeat, but only in her mind's eye. She could see the Otto she'd known as clear as dayif only
A small sound behind her brought her sharply back to herself. She spun, and saw Escher standing over by the wall, poking at the cloth restraints around the upper left tentacle's inert claw.
"ESCHER!"
The girl started, and something pinged from under the cloth and rolled into a recess of the padded floor. Kat practically sprinted across to her, snatching up the thing as she went. "What the hell are you doing!"
"Nothing!" said Escher, with a wide-eyed look about as innocent as Jack the Ripper's. "I just wanted to see if the tentacles look how I remember under all this cloth and straps and junk. Look, I'm putting it back the way I found it now, okay?"
"So what's this?" Kat held her palm out, the tiny screw glinting in the middle. The younger girl stared at it, and from her expression it was clear that she hadn't a clue.
"Ohsorry."
"Sorry?" Kat scrabbled at the cloth that partially covered the inhibitor collar. "Are you trying to drive me crazy too? I told you, without him they could kill us!"
"I said I just wanted to look!" snapped Escher, holding the cloth back so the psychologist could see the collar's smooth metal surface. Swallowing her irritation for the moment, Kat squinted at it until she saw a minute dark spot by one of the bevelled joins. With infinite care she dropped the screw back into it, turning it laboriously with her long fingernails until the head sat flush with the surrounding parts once more.
"Is that as tight as it goes?"
"I can't GET it any tighter," growled Kat, "and unless you carry a power screwdriver in that sweater, neither can you. Anyway, if they're so far under that they can't even help him, one loose screw isn't going to make any difference. Now come on, I want to get out of here before anything else gets broken."
Escher gave her a hurt look, then glanced to Otto. "Is he-"
Kat felt suddenly weary, drained. "There's nothing more we can do for him, Escher." she said. "He'slost." She stood up and swiped the door open. "I'll drive you home, then I'll read through the stuff I got off John's computer, and thenI don't know." She shook her head, then held the door open for Escher and followed her out.
"Goodbye, Otto." she said, and felt sick at the taste of the words. Then she let go of the door, and watched it shut.
With the two young women gone, cell 712 lapsed into all-enveloping stillness once more. There was no sound, nothing but white and silence and white and silence and white and silence and-
-spink.
