Oliver peered at Dandy in suspicious confusion. The younger man was seated at a desk in one of the vacated counselor's offices, Thredson seated in the chair across from him. The hooded light overhead needed a new bulb and flickered periodically, making the shadows dance.

After the broken night's sleep and chaotic events of the night, the next morning's abrupt development was hard to process.

"I'm being reinstated," he repeated slowly, pushing his glasses up. "That's what you're saying?"

Dandy smiled proudly. "Dr. Pennhurst is drawing up the paperwork right now. Mr. Joseph's confession exonerates you completely. He's already been taken into custody by the police and the court proceedings to have you cleared of all charges should be finalized before the end of the week. You're expected in court two days from now. Once that little legal hoop is jumped, you'll be fully reinstated publicly. In the meantime, there's no reason to keep you locked in a cell. You'll have your old office back. You can use it as your apartment until your public release."

Though it sounded like a prayer answered, Oliver couldn't blindly accept the offer. "Why do you want to help a murderer? Aren't you concerned I might do it again?"

Dandy made a thoughtful little frown and folded his hands on the desk. "The thought had occurred to me," he admitted, brows high. "But I think you've learned your lesson. Besides, if you really feel the need to make more lady-masks, there's a whole asylum of them right here to pick from. You shouldn't be trying to keep people in your house. That's just silly!"

Thredson stared at the young man. Dandy seemed genuinely amused. His capacity for trivializing murder was fascinating. "You would let me do that here?"

"Why not?" Dandy spread his hands. "All of the top doctors in this place have their secret burrows where they do nefarious things. I really don't know why you should be the exception. There are probably even some empty rooms in the tunnels somewhere you could make your own."

Oliver scratched his temple and cleared his throat. Dandy's logic was peculiar but precise. Pennhurst and Freeman, even Heath, had done atrocious things in Briarcliff's operating theaters and recovery rooms. Thredson had seen many personally. Why should he be the one they hung out to dry, simply because he hadn't been allotted the same space to work that they had claimed? Taken from that perspective, the man felt a little outraged. Then he reminded himself who he was dealing with.

"That sounds like a generous offer," he said with a polite smile. "I'm happy to accept."

—

Two days later, the newspapers and television were blasting the latest development: Oliver Thredson was cleared of all charges related to the Bloody Face murders. Some half-wit janitor from Briarcliff was tried in his stead and quickly found guilty, then shipped right back to the asylum as a maximum security patient. He was put right back to work and even given a bonus penny-an-hour for his trouble that week.

—

Tate had been in solitary the past two days. When they took him out of the tiny un-padded cell, he expected to be returned to the men's ward but instead found himself in the ECT room, strapped down to a table. His loud protests were silenced with a rubber bit that one of the nurses shoved into his mouth and belted in place. Dr. Thredson's face hovered into view above him.

"I'm sorry it's come to this," the doctor said. "But you've had a psychotic break. You're very confused about who I am and what has happened lately, but we'll fix things, Tate. I promise. After electroshock, you'll feel much better."

Tate tried to shout him down but the foul-tasting rubber bit smothered the words. He felt the nurse swab his temples and he tried to wriggle free but they had his head secured to the table by then. He could barely move. He was sure he was being punished for attacking Thredson, but that didn't explain why the man was acting like he was a doctor again. Or why the nurse was letting him. Things were very wrong and Tate wanted a chance to talk to someone in charge, someone who could make sense of everything. But that wasn't going to happen.

Dr. Thredson put the stethoscope-like tool in place and pressed the cotton-covered ends firmly against his temples. Then he gave a nod to the tech who hit the release button that sent wave after wave of electricity into Tate's abused skull. He stiffened, unable to think about anything but the white-hot energy flowing through his body from his brain.

At some point, the shock treatment ended. Tate wasn't sure when. He blacked out several times before that happened, and a few times after. Eventually found himself wandering the halls. He had no idea where he was supposed to be going. His legs were wet. He wasn't sure if he'd spilled something on himself or if he'd pissed his pants. He didn't care. He started to feel shaky as his nervous system experienced a delayed reaction to the ECT. Exhausted, he trudged over to the nearest wall where he sank to the floor. He let the cold, hard bricks prop him. It felt nice to be supported.

He stayed that way until the inmates were all rounded up for dinner.

—

"Tate? What's wrong?"

Violet's voice reached him from a long way away. Her face swam into view over him and he smiled dimly up at her. "Hi."

"They shocked him."

Tate heard Heather's voice and saw a vague outline of a person, but she was gone before he could find her face.

"Come on," said Violet. With effort she helped get him on his feet. "It's time to go to the cafeteria. You'll get in trouble if you stay here."

She helped him as far as the mezzanine where Byron and Carl stopped them at the doors leading in.

"Line up," said Carl.

Men and women had their own lines.

"Can I help him over there?" Violet asked. "They shocked him and he's kind of spaced out."

The orderlies looked unmoved.

"Come on, man," she petitioned Carl. "I'll just help him over there. One of the guys can take it from there."

"No," the stocky man said. "He walks on his own and so do you. Get in line, missy, unless you're looking for trouble."

Violet knew if she wasn't medicated that she could come with a suitably scathing response. As it was, she had to settle for the blunt truth. "If I let go of him, he'll fall down."

"And that's my problem how?" Carl smirked. Byron snorted a laugh.

"I'm fine," Tate interjected. He had cottoned onto the fact that Violet was getting herself into trouble. "I'm groovy."

He pulled away from her and stumbled toward the men's line. It was like trying to cross the deck of a ship in a storm. He almost fell but the guy who thought himself to be Teddy Roosevelt caught him.

"My good man!" Teddy exclaimed. "Are you ill?"

Tate righted himself and brushed the guy's hands off his shoulders. "Yeah. No." He gave a weak laugh. "What?"

The line was moving. After another look askance at him, Teddy moved along with it. Tate slouched after him, taking it slowly so he didn't fall. He wondered where Violet went, but he was afraid if he looked around, he would get lost. So he watched President Roosevelt's well-worn slippers and followed the line to his seat.

He had no appetite for the meal they were served. The boiled meat was chewy and flavorless. The corn was pale and hard. Both were as cold as the room, which was chilly enough to make his nose run. He was so wiped out, he didn't even guard his food. Slowly it disappeared as other patients plucked it up.

Soon the pill line formed. Tate got his regular shot. The one Dr. Thredson prescribed him. Thinking about the man confused Tate all over again. Was he a doctor? Or a patient? If he was a patient, how could he dispense ECT? Had Tate imagined him being a patient?

As the injected sedative went to work and compounded the effects of the electroshock, the nagging questions dissolved. He faintly wished Violet was near. Then he slipped into the numbness of not thinking at all.

—

Author's Note:

A long-overdue update. I got swept up in my Armageddon fic and I've been working on getting a book published. I haven't forgotten about my Briarcliff peeps though! In fact, you can see a cameo mention of Thredson in a recent Armageddon chapter I posted.

It's interesting having Dandy in charge of the asylum. A psychotic murderer in charge of a team of doctors who are even worse than he is. Yikes.

Next time: Thredson is cleared publicly of wrongdoing. He also has unfinished business with Constance.