"What the HELL was that?" I cried as the door to Warfstache's cell slammed behind me, creating a booming echo to match the rage in my voice.
Yousef scurried ahead of me, his head buried in the notebook he'd been scribbling in the whole time. It was as though none of that session ever happened and he was lost in his own mind. I couldn't believe his carelessness, his lack of empathy toward the Colonel during the session. I knew the man was by the book but I didn't think he could be so heartless.
My strides widened as I stomped forward after him. I sunk my nails into his shoulder and spun him to face me. His eyes widened, taken aback by my actions. He wrenched his shoulder out of my grasp and raised a hand to rub it. Apparently my strength was higher than I thought when I'd done that.
"What?" he said, stupefied.
"What the hell is the matter with you?!" I screamed, my nose touching his as I lunged forward at him. "That was grossly unprofessional! During a session you are NEVER supposed to antagonize the patient! What do you have to say for yourself!?"
"The man is a murderer. He killed a man in cold blood and he's talking about missing persons that he very well could have killed as well. He clearly isn't well, I'll agree to that, but he still has to be treated as a suspect. You are also well aware that we are recording everything that he says and does. If the police get wind of that they could very well use it against him." Yousef replied, puffing himself out like an alpha penguin.
"Be that as it may, you were already aware of his violent tendencies and you still decided to egg him on. YOU are not the chief of police. You're a DOCTOR." I refuted through gritted teeth. "You are no longer the secondary on this case. I forbid it if that is how you are going to behave."
Yousef's pasty face seemed to grow even whiter. He dropped his arms to his sides and sputtered, shaking his head from side to side in disbelief. "You...you can't do that...I'll..I'll go to the Direc-"
"I can and I will. Go to Malkinson if you must but you have to be aware that if you do, your job will be jeapordized too." With that, I pushed past him and clomped my way to the elevator, leaving him slackjawed as the door slid closed behind me.
As the elevator opened again, I felt as if I was leaving a trail of smoke down the hall to my office. Every orderly and patient I passed seemed to sense this as they created a path for me, parting like the red sea for and angered Moses. I wasn't about to let anyone stand in the way of progress for Warfstache, not Malkinson, not Yousef, no one.
As I barged into my office, I stopped short when I noticed a man standing at the window on the far side beyond my desk. His arms were folded behind his back and he seemed to be observing the world below with an air of authority.
"Can I help you?" I snapped, startling him.
As he turned, I felt my blood run cold.
"Chief Berkowitz, I am terribly sorry for my-"
The Chief of Police held up a hand to calm me. "It's quite alright, Dr. Antwood. Please, have a seat." He motioned toward my desk and met me there, seating himself across from me.
"I've been, uh, wondering when you'd stop by. I've left messages." I stammered, embarassed by my outburst.
"It's been a rather busy couple of days. Markiplier Mansion is overrun by by officers and still we're not turning up a whole lot." He sat leaning to one side, leaning his elbow on the arm of the chair and let the corresponding hand do the talking. He never once looked at me as he spoke. He simply spoke to the air next to him, as if I wasn't even there.
"The crime scene is a mess. However, the Colonel's fingerprints are all over the place. On the gun we found at the bottom of the balcony. On the blood stains at both where Fischbach's body was and where we found the gun. We aren't sure whose body was there, but he must have hidden the bodies. I need to know what you've found out from him."
He suddenly stared at me over his wide brimmed glasses, calculating me. I could feel myself beginning to fume. It was bad enough that the Director was pressuring me into lying about Warfstache, but now here was the Chief, glaring me down trying to get some sort of incrimination from me.
"All I know is that the man is ill. Our first session didn't go so well. He's still quite delusional, I was ABOUT to get some information from him before-"
The Chief held up a hand, halting my words.
"Did he confess? That's all I care about."
"I'm not in the habit of interrogation, Chief."
"I'm aware. Did he confess?" He asked again flatly.
I glared at him, hoping to God he noticed that I wasn't going to be walked all over like some sort of ratty rug.
"No. He didn't confess. Even if he did, I wouldn't tell you myself. That is a violation of the confidentiality between a doctor and a patient."
"So you are going to be difficult?"
"I'm not saying that at all." That's exactly what I was saying. "I'm saying that until he's been fully evaluated, you won't be able to take him for your own interrogation. When I agreed to help with this case, I only agreed to evaluate his current mental condition. I never agreed to release anything other than that."
The Chief frowned and nodded. Clearly defeated. "That you did, I remember. That was why we brought him to you in the first place. BUT..." he paused, wiggling his chin back and forth as he scanned me up and down.
"When you are put on the stand, I expect you to be aware that you may have to divulge more information than you're wiling to give me now. What you do here may be helpful in your eyes, but in front of a jury and a crowd of angry Fischbach fans...not to mention family of those who have disappeared...you could be lynched. I want you to be absolutely sure of your findings. ABSOLUTELY sure. Before you say a word."
I already knew exactly what he meant. In that moment I felt more cornered than I had in my life. Like a rat at the back end of an alleyway, a hoarde of hungry stray cats slinking toward it...He and Malkinson were in cahoots...they both wanted to see Warfstache convicted and given capital punishment. It would look good for Malkinson and for the Police if a murderer like him were thrown into the chair and fried. Good publicity, more trust given to them by the public...
"Get out." I said in a low growl.
"I beg your pardon?" Berkowitz asked, slowly standing, his chest puffing out allowing his brass badge to glisten in the light.
I stood against him, feeling as though I suddenly towered over him.
"I said get out! I am going to handle this case my way. I'm not going to pretend that he is completely aware of what he did just to make you or Malkinson look good. I'm not going to sit around like your lap dog and do as I'm told just because you're attempting to intimidate me. I am going to help him, Warfstache, my PATIENT. Whether you or Malkinson like it or not. Now, get OUT!"
Berkowitz fumed as he left, mumbling angrily to himself. His eyes seemed to glow with a demonic rage as he hunched his head low, glowering at me while he stomped out of the office and slammed the door.
One thing was clear now. No matter which way I turned, there was someone against me AND Warfstache in this case. There was no justice here, no clear or definitive allies for us. It was just he and I against an entire world that wanted to see him burn. In that moment I felt the first twinge of fear of many that I'd feel during this case. Whether or not I put up a strong front to the Chief or the Director...I WAS intimidated a little. I was scared of losing my job and handing Warfstache over to someone else who would be willing to let him go down.
I knew then that I had very little time to crack open the mystery of all of this and figure out what went wrong in his mind...to understand what was going on in there and to help cure him at the very least. I knew that in cases of insanity, as long as a diagnosis was made and a rehabilitation plan was established, they couldn't convict him. I had to change my strategy, and I had to do it fast.
I stood on the dimly lit doorstep of Yousef's house for a long time, staring at the doorbell wondering if I should even try to speak with him. I knew how sour he could get, and after my little outburst, I didn't expect him to welcome me with open arms. But, if there was anyone I could hopefully count as an ally, it would be Yousef.
I reached for the doorbell, wiggling my hand to rid it of the anxiety it appeared to have as it shook before the porcelain cirlcle. Finally, I pressed my fingertip against the smooth surface and listened for the faint "bing bong" of the bell from within the house.
Muffled footsteps made their way toward me, growing steadily louder along with the nervous beating of my heart.
I was so used to seeing Yousef in a suit and doctor's coat that seeing him in striped pajamas was a bit alarming. I almost thought I'd rung the wrong house. Yet, there he stood, slightly unkempt holding a thick file in his hands that he suddenly tucked under his arm as he stood up straight. A look of contempt rearranged onto his features as he glared at me.
"Dr. Antwood." he greeted coolly.
"Yousef...I..." I stammered. I wasn't exactly sure what to say to him. My plan wasn't exactly well thought out, but I knew that I had to talk to someone about what was going on. Somebody had to be on my side in all of this. Someone other than a madman who had no clue about the horrible fate that others were trying to weave for him.
"Whatever you have to say, you'd better say it quick." Yousef interrupted. "I am very hard at work and I need to get this file done before I go to bed. Which I would like to do sometime before morning."
"I understand that you're busy." I began quickly, searching the air for words to use. "And I...I'd like to apologize...may I come in?"
Yousef hesitated, his free hand raking through his thick curls. I tried my best to give off as sympathetic an appearance as I could, appealing to his empathy with everything I had. Eventually, he lowered his head and stepped aside, beckoning me in.
"Thank you, thank you!" I said, a wave of relief washing over me. Perhaps this could work.
I had never once been inside Yousef's home. I'd worked with him for a long time, but I hadn't even darkened his doorstep at all. It was a cozy little abode arife with family trinkets. Deep mahoganies and oaks built up the walls and staircase that lay before me as it twisted up to the second floor. Beautiful works of art littered the walls, brightening up the dingy grey wallpaper behind them. To my left was the sitting room, which Yousef lead me toward. The ornate fireplace at the far end crackled with a joyful fire, warming up the room with its gentle glow. The room was darkly colorful, with deep reds and warming browns, and foresty greens coloring the furniture and decor. It almost reminded me of a Christmas postcard.
"Please, sit." Yousef said as he put a gentle hand on my back, motioning toward a tan colored clawfoot sofa.
Sitting on it felt like sitting on a stone bench, but that didn't matter to me. I removed my coat and bag from my shoulders and dug through the bag for Warfstache's file. I'd written a bit more in it after that day's session, merely recollecting the events that lead up to his outburst. Nothing substantial unfortunately. We had to hurry this up.
Yousef sat across from me in a chair that matched the sofa I sat on. He placed the heavy file on the oak coffee table between us and rested his elbows on his knees, watching me. It was, again, my turn to speak and I had trouble once more finding the proper words to start out.
"Listen, Yousef-" before I could continue, he held up his hands and smiled at me.
"It's all right, Miriam. I understand I acted wrongly. I read your first notes on the man and I couldn't help but kick myself for behaving like some sort of enforcement officer rather than a doctor. It was unprofessional and...I hope that you'll let me back on this case. I want to help you."
I calculated him for a moment, briefly suspicious of his sudden change of attitude. He sensed this immediately and gave out a nervous chuckle.
"Look, we've been colleagues for a long time but we've had very few cases together." He reached forward and placed a hand on my shoulder. "I just want to do right by you."
"I certainly hope you mean that." I began, trying my best to hide my suspicion. "I did in fact come here to ask you to come back to the case...but I also came here to tell you something that I need you to swear secrecy to."
Yousef retracted his hand, not in an offended way, but more puzzled. His eyes slivered and his brow furrowed in confusion. I understood his beffudlement, I myself couldn't fully wrap my head around it all still.
"Swear, please." I begged, putting forth the urgency immediately.
"Ok, I promise I won't utter a word." Yousef said, raising his hands and sitting back in his chair.
I stood, feeling the need to move. I paced the room for a few moments, my hand at my chin, trying to figure out how to approach this with a more well thought out plan. Yousef watched me, his head occasionally craning over the back of the chair when I was out of his direct line of sight. Finally, I stood before the fireplace, no doubt giving off a foreboding sillohuette.
"This case is sensitive." I began. "More sensitive than I even understood until the day before yesterday. I ask for your confidence on this because...honestly I don't have anyone else to turn to. I'm not sure who else could be in on this whole thing...and as you said we've known and worked with one another for years now. I respect you as a psychiatrist and as a colleague. Am I correct in saying you would do anything to protect your patients?"
Yousef appeared to be taken aback, and if anything even more puzzled than he started out.
"Of course. I took an oath, no matter what field I'm in I am a doctor and my patient's safety is of the utmost importance I assure you." he replied, the sincerity in his voice comforting.
I rushed to sit before him again, leaning forward with him doing the same to meet me halfway.
"Good. Because I'm going to need your help in protecting the Colonel." by the expression he gave me, I could tell I wasn't explaining this well enough yet. "Look...the morning before last, when Davidson was stabbed, Malkinson came to me. At first, he seemed genuinely concerned, but then he began talking about the 'good of the hospital' and that I 'didn't need to work so hard' in helping Warfstache. When I asked for elaboration, he told me that he wanted me to throw the case. Basically, he wants us to testify that he's of sound mind so that he can get the highest conviction for the murder. And today, the Chief of Police basically told me the same thing, they're in on this together. Trying to sabotage the Colonel so that the public doesn't completely melt down and have an outcry against the hospital or the department."
Yousef sat back, his face in a state of disbelief. He turned from me for a moment, rubbing his hand over his mouth as he stared off in to the fire, absorbing all of the information I had just dumped into his lap.
"To what end?" he asked at last. "What could possibly be gained from both parties?"
"Malkinson told me that because of the outrage against a beloved actor's murder, the perpetrator being executed will make them happy. If we help him with an insanity plea, it makes the hospital look sympathetic to a killer. If the police fail to bring that conviction, their trust for them goes out the window. I am not entirely sure how high this goes. I'm not sure if the judge is in on this as well. That's why I came to you."
I knelt on the floor in front of him, gazing into his eyes with an intense determination. He gave me a side glance, his hand still over his mouth resting under his nose.
"What I need from you is to help me to give an accurate diagnosis before the trial in two weeks. Once we do that, we need to keep the files in a safe place, where no one against us can get to them. I need you to be my lookout, in a sense. While the outburst today made it clear you probably can't be in the same room with the Colonel now, the very least you can do is keep an eye on our work while I'm with him to ensure no one comes in to sabotage it. If we can convince the jury at the very least that the man is ill, not a cold blooded killer, we can possibly save his life. Will you help me?"
He turned to me as I spoke, frowning with a deep concern that I knew all too well at that moment. I could feel that my eyes were pleading with him, welling up with anxious tears that came on their own. I must have looked downright pathetic, but if it helped to win him over, that would make all the difference.
Finally, he brought down his fist on the arm of the chair and placed his other hand on my shoulder, gripping it tightly.
"I'll help you. I'll help the Colonel. We can't let this corruption go without a fight. I've seen too many people wrongully executed for things that weren't their fault. I can't see that again."
I felt my face crack with a grin and I stood with him, breathless with relief. I couldn't help myself, I threw myself into him and wrapped my arms around him. Despite my strong will against both the Director and the Chief, the fear had become overwhelming. For my job, for the Colonel's well being, for the dark possibilities that surrounded this whole situation. To finally have someone else on my side was a breath of fresh air that I'd desperately needed.
He was surprised at first that I'd made such an intimate gesture of thanks, but he returned the hug with a pat on the back and I quickly retracted, rubbing the back of my neck in a slight feeling of embarassment.
He held both of my shoulders, returning my grin and breathing a quick, rough sigh. "So," he said, raising a brow. "Where do we start?"
AUTHOR'S NOTE
I apologize for the absence! I've had a very long couple of weeks with work and finally had a couple days to sit down and write. Expect Chapter 4 very soon!