Vaughn played absently with the bow on the small stuffed toy he'd bought
Sydney from the hospital gift shop. It was a tiny brown and white giraffe,
who he'd promptly christened George. He was walking down towards Sydney's
private room. In his other hand was a stack of magazines that his sister's
friend had donated, for a 'good cause'. She didn't know what the good cause
was. He knew that she was going to be bored while she was stuck at the
hospital.
He was waiting outside her room while she talked to the psychiatrist, who'd just gone into the room.
--Inside Sydney's room--
"Hi, Sydney. I'm doctor Lowe." He spoke carefully and quietly, as if she would break if he raised his voice.
She looked at him as if he had two heads. "Why are you talking like that?" she asked in disbelief. "I'm not crazy just because some asshole locked me up and hurt me!"
"I'm a psychiatrist." He said, as if that explained everything. "We are worried about you. You need to talk about what happened to you."
"Look, doctor, with all due respect, I'm not the one who needs a psychiatrist. I didn't do this to myself, you know."
"I know that." He agreed quietly, looking at his hands. She was the first patient who'd spoken to him like that.
"Then why the hell do you wanna talk to me?" she snapped. The psychiatrist raised his hands in surrender and left the room, shutting the door quietly behind him.
"Can I talk to her?" Vaughn asked him as he passed.
"Yep. I'm not getting anywhere." He said and walked away. Vaughn fought down an urge to smack him round the back of his blond head as he passed.
Vaughn found the psychiatrist's attitude extremely annoying. He was pressuring Sydney into talking when she obviously wasn't ready. He walked quietly into the room, like the psychiatrist had just moments before. Sydney was sitting on the hard bed with her back to him.
She flinched involuntarily as he touched her arm. He pulled his hand away, hurt even though he knew she hadn't done it on purpose. He knew that the time she spent with Artis must have been harrowing for her. He'd seen the physical damage that Artis had inflicted upon her, knew of some of the mental torture he'd put her through.
He still didn't know it all, wouldn't unless one of them talked, but they where locked in an un-easy pact. She wouldn't talk about it because the memories where still too painful, too raw for her to deal with. He wouldn't talk about it because he knew what he'd done would get him locked up for life- or worse.
"Hey, Syd." He said.
"Hi." She replied flatly
"How are you feeling today?" Vaughn asked, desperately trying to make conversation. She lifted one shoulder in a half-hearted shrug.
"Maybe you should lie back down?" Vaughn said. He was surprised as she obediently swung her legs onto the bed and lay back down.
"Oh, I brought you some things." He picked the magazines and stuffed giraffe up of the chair, where he'd put them when he first came into the room. He put the magazines down on the bedside table and passed her George. She smiled slightly and started to cry.
He was waiting outside her room while she talked to the psychiatrist, who'd just gone into the room.
--Inside Sydney's room--
"Hi, Sydney. I'm doctor Lowe." He spoke carefully and quietly, as if she would break if he raised his voice.
She looked at him as if he had two heads. "Why are you talking like that?" she asked in disbelief. "I'm not crazy just because some asshole locked me up and hurt me!"
"I'm a psychiatrist." He said, as if that explained everything. "We are worried about you. You need to talk about what happened to you."
"Look, doctor, with all due respect, I'm not the one who needs a psychiatrist. I didn't do this to myself, you know."
"I know that." He agreed quietly, looking at his hands. She was the first patient who'd spoken to him like that.
"Then why the hell do you wanna talk to me?" she snapped. The psychiatrist raised his hands in surrender and left the room, shutting the door quietly behind him.
"Can I talk to her?" Vaughn asked him as he passed.
"Yep. I'm not getting anywhere." He said and walked away. Vaughn fought down an urge to smack him round the back of his blond head as he passed.
Vaughn found the psychiatrist's attitude extremely annoying. He was pressuring Sydney into talking when she obviously wasn't ready. He walked quietly into the room, like the psychiatrist had just moments before. Sydney was sitting on the hard bed with her back to him.
She flinched involuntarily as he touched her arm. He pulled his hand away, hurt even though he knew she hadn't done it on purpose. He knew that the time she spent with Artis must have been harrowing for her. He'd seen the physical damage that Artis had inflicted upon her, knew of some of the mental torture he'd put her through.
He still didn't know it all, wouldn't unless one of them talked, but they where locked in an un-easy pact. She wouldn't talk about it because the memories where still too painful, too raw for her to deal with. He wouldn't talk about it because he knew what he'd done would get him locked up for life- or worse.
"Hey, Syd." He said.
"Hi." She replied flatly
"How are you feeling today?" Vaughn asked, desperately trying to make conversation. She lifted one shoulder in a half-hearted shrug.
"Maybe you should lie back down?" Vaughn said. He was surprised as she obediently swung her legs onto the bed and lay back down.
"Oh, I brought you some things." He picked the magazines and stuffed giraffe up of the chair, where he'd put them when he first came into the room. He put the magazines down on the bedside table and passed her George. She smiled slightly and started to cry.