Hey, everybody.
I know it must be frustrating to suddenly have this story resurge after so many blog-like updates in the recent past. But I'm hoping that these chapters I've released so quickly will help soothe that discomfort. Here's the next chapter for you. I hope to hear from more of you soon.
"Code: Insomnia"
By cdc100
Summary: Jeremie is having fits in his sleep. Aelita wants to know what's wrong with him and he insists that nothing is wrong. Find out what happens.
Disclaimer: This is a work of pure non-profit fan fiction. Code Lyoko is the property of Antefilms, Moonscoop, France 3, Canal J, Cartoon Network, Tania Palumbo and Thomas Romain. Please support the official release.
Chapter Six
"Test Results"
After Jim left, Jeremie slouched back at his computer and continued the project he had been working on.
He was typing much more slowly than he usually would. He heaved a breath as he closed his eyes, taking his glasses off and using his index fingers to pinch the bridge of his nose as hard as he could.
He turned away from the screen as he put his glasses back on. He dug in his pocket and yanked out his wallet. Inside, he found a pair of pictures. The first was of himself with the group after Aelita had been materialized. The whole group looked so happy. Yumi was giving Ulrich a noogie, while Odd did a muscle pose while standing on the nearby bench. He himself was smirking while adjusting his glasses by the bridge, and Aelita gave a thumbs up with a smile.
The other photograph showed him and Aelita in the photobooth the night they discovered the antivirus. Though the news was grim, Aelita had said it was the most wonderful night of her life. Jeremie touched his cheek as he remembered what she did after she said that. As he gazed at both pictures, tears began to build in his eyes. He placed them back in his wallet and stuffed it back in his pocket before reeling his arms in the air and pounding his fists on his desk with a low growl.
At that precise moment, two hard raps came from behind Jeremie at his door, causing him to recoil from his computer.
"Who is it?" he asked.
"It's Jim."
Jeremie let out a breath he didn't even remember taking.
"It's open," he deadpanned, before turning in his chair.
Jim came into the room and approached Jeremie.
"Jeremie, I need you to come with me to the infirmary."
"What for, Jim?"
"Just come along. I don't know what you're working on right now, but it can wait. Once we're done, you can come back. I promise."
Jeremie wordlessly stood up and followed Jim.
Not a word was spoken between the two as they approached the infirmary. Jeremie merely kept his gaze to whatever floor they walked over as Jim led the way, every so often glancing back to the young genius.
Unbeknownst to them, they caught the eye of Jeremie's friends. Silently, they walked to the lunch room as they watched the duo approach the admin building.
Finally, they reached the infirmary, and Yolande opened the door before Jim had a chance to knock. While Jim departed toward Delmas's office, Yolande addressed Jeremie.
"Hello, Jeremie. Did you sleep alright last night?"
Jeremie nodded as he stepped past the nurse, barely taking notice of a second person in the room. The man stood from a nearby chair and conversed with Yolande about something before they began directing Jeremie.
"Jeremie, this is Dr. Moreau."
"It's nice to meet you, Jeremie."
Moreau extended a hand, which Jeremie hesitantly took. Moreau then had Jeremie sit down on one of the infirmary's cots to examine him.
He had Jeremie remove his shirt, then took a few measurements of his skinny frame. He then wrote a few things down in his notepad before taking his stethoscope and using it to listen to Jeremie's chest and back at various point.
"Your heart rate seems elevated quite a bit."
Jeremie remained silent. Moreau then took out a blood pressure cuff and placed it on Jeremie. After several moments, the doctor released the cuff and took off his stethoscope.
"Jeremie, do you mind answering a few questions for me?"
Jeremie nodded.
"Sure, but I doubt I could tell you anything helpful."
"We'll just see. It might be more helpful than you think. First, Jim and Yolande say you deny having used any drugs. That's true, isn't it?"
"Yes, it is."
"That's good. How is your appetite? Are you having any issues with eating?"
"Not…exactly. I don't starve myself or anything. I just forget to eat sometimes."
"How often would you say that happens?"
"Um…once or twice a week."
Moreau frowned.
"You are severely underweight for someone your age and height. We're not quite there yet, but I can see your ribs starting to protrude. So, would you mind telling me the truth?"
Jeremie sighed.
"It happens more often. I don't know exactly how often. I keep snacks in my room for when I forget."
Moreau nodded and wrote in his notes.
"And what kinds of snacks do you have in there?"
"Chips, crackers and cheese, dry cured meats…"
Moreau wrote more.
"How did you know I low-balled my missed meals?" asked Jeremie.
"I've worked with a lot of people your age. And I know that, on average…you're full of crap."
"I'm sorry. I just…"
"Don't try to explain why you lied, Jeremie. Not right now, anyway. I'm not mad at you, and even if I was, I'm not someone you need approval from. I just need to know the truth, so that I can give you the care you need."
Jeremie looked away from the doctor.
"O…kay."
Moreau looked at his notes and then back up at Jeremie.
"You can put your shirt back on."
Jeremie did so, finishing shortly before Moreau finished with his notes.
"What exactly keeps you so occupied that you forget to have a meal? You have to care for yourself, Jeremie."
Jeremie opened and closed his mouth before looking down at the floor, as if he might find a good answer there.
"You have the look of someone who carries a lot on his shoulders."
"I just have something really important I have to do, doctor."
"Do you mind telling me what it is?"
"It requires me to do a lot of work on my computer."
"Is it class work? A game?"
Jeremie shrugged.
"I…guess you could say it's a bit of both."
Moreau put away his notes and angled his head so that he was in Jeremie's line of sight.
"Jeremie, this clearly causes you discomfort, so I won't pry. But I just want you to answer me a question or two about this. If I'm satisfied, I'll leave it alone and we can move on."
Jeremie looked at Moreau and nodded again.
"Is what you're working on something illegal?" asked Moreau.
"No."
"Is it something that will harm you or others?"
"No."
"Is someone forcing you to do it?"
"…Just me."
"Then for now, at least, I'll trust you."
Moreau got up and looked over at Yolande before addressing Jeremie again.
"Do I have to say that you aren't well, or is that obvious?"
"It's pretty obvious."
"Do you deny it?"
"No, you're right. I'm just…I didn't do this on purpose. I've just been working really hard on this project and…I guess…"
"The why doesn't matter for the moment, Jeremie. Right now, the only thing that matters is helping you get better. And the only thing I need to know is if you're willing to work with me."
Jeremie hesitated.
"I'm not sure what to say, doctor."
"Why don't we start with what you want?"
Jeremie shook his head.
"What I want doesn't matter. I have things I need to do."
"Jeremie, what you want does matter. It might matter more now than usual."
Jeremie took a deep breath and closed his eyes. He took off his glasses and used his thumb and forefinger to pinch the bridge of his nose before letting go. He didn't bother with his glasses, choosing to look ahead of him with them off, allowing his vision to blur into a mosaic of uncertainty that perfectly reflected his state of mind.
"I don't know what I want, doctor. I'm not sure what the right answer is. Right now, I'm not really sure of anything."
"Well, that's a start. There is no 'right answer,' Jeremie. It's no one's place except yours to say what it is you want. And it's okay to be uncertain of that. It's obvious to me that a lot is going on in your mind. If you're willing to work with me, I'm willing to help you with it."
At that moment, Jeremie felt something tap his knee. Reaching out for it, Jeremie recognized the object as his glasses. He picked them up and put them on, allowing him to see the doctor, who was holding out a hand. There was no judgment to Moreau's face. His eyes held a note of compassion and concern. His furrowed brow spoke of earnestness and resolve.
Jeremie nodded and took the doctor's outstretched hand.
"Alright, doctor. I…hope you can help me like you think."
"That will depend at least partially on you. But if you promise to stick with me, I promise to do whatever it takes."
Jeremie hummed an affirmative and stood from his seat on the cot.
"Jeremie, why don't you go get some lunch and go back to your room?" asked Moreau. "Yolande and I need to go talk to Mr. Delmas."
"Okay. Thank you, doctor."
Jeremie departed the infirmary, leaving Yolande alone with her fiancé.
Back in Delmas' office, Jim and Delmas stood agape as they pored over something on the latter's computer screen.
"Do you realize what this means, Jim?"
"To me, it means we'd better have another talk with our guest. This is all…"
"Yes, I know, Jim."
Delmas shook his head as he stared at the screen.
"How is all of this possible?"
Soon, the pair heard a knock at Delmas' office door, followed by the opening door and entry of the two medical professionals.
"I've finished looking Jeremie over," said Moreau. "We have a bit to talk about."
Delmas looked up at Moreau with a hard stare.
"We certainly do, doctor."
Moreau's head tilted half a degree.
"Is something wrong?" he asked.
"That remains to be seen," said Delmas. "Right now, I'm trying to figure out a couple of things – chief of which is, how any of us could possibly afford you."
Delmas turned the screen of his computer so everyone in the room could see it before turning his attention back to it. The screen showed a picture of a slightly younger Dr. Moreau, along with several pieces of critical information.
"Dr. Marc Moreau. A graduate of the University of Edinburgh after spending time both there and at Harvard University, with a double major in medicine and psychology, after having an internship at the Johns Hopkins Hospital in America, along with a Residency at the Hospital Saint-Louis. Published in five journals – The New England Journal of Medicine, The American Journal of Medicine, The Psychological Bulletin, The British Journal of Psychology and The Lancet. Am I leaving anything out?"
Moreau sighed.
"I don't suppose Wired Magazine is mentioned in there anywhere? I was interviewed for a small men's health article that featured in there and in Maxim."
"This is not a joke, doctor. Why did you never tell us any of this?"
"I could say 'you never asked,' but I do actually have a much better reason, if you care for me to explain."
Delmas folded his hands.
"I wish you would."
Moreau cleared his throat.
"It may be difficult for you to believe, but I actually have an interest in treating patients. I'm not interested in furthering a career beyond being able to help more people. I do it for a living, of course, but it's a job someone had to do, and I want to do it to the best of my ability."
"That's very forthright and admirable of you, doctor. However, you still haven't explained why you kept all of this from us."
"I wasn't keeping it from you. I was keeping it from myself."
Delmas quirked an eyebrow, but the intensity of his stare lessened considerably.
"I don't follow."
"A key to doing my job well is staying humble, Mr. Delmas. I approach each job with no expectations. If I focused on every case I've had that went well, or that went poorly, it would interfere with my ability to do my job."
Delmas's face softened as he looked at the screen again.
"You do seem to have had a fair amount of success. I can see all sorts of testimonials here. 'Dr. Moreau saved my life.' 'Thanks to Dr. Moreau, I got my daughter back.' 'Dr. Moreau didn't have to help us, but he did it anyway.' 'Dr. Moreau could have passed me off to someone else, but he stayed with me.'"
Moreau looked away with a shake of his head.
"The minute I let all those go to my head is the minute I lose myself, Mr. Delmas. All of those stories don't make me a good doctor."
"Then what does, Marc?" asked Delmas.
Moreau approached Delmas's desk and looked the man dead in the eyes.
"Staying the course. Whatever you do for your patient, whether it works or not, you have to see it all through."
Delmas met Moreau's gaze for a few moments, and then turned his computer screen back to its original position.
"I owe you an apology, Marc. When I found all of this out, I thought perhaps you were looking for another feather to put in your cap. I see now that I was wrong. I apologize."
Moreau backed away from the desk.
"Your interests are in helping Jeremie. That's where your concern comes from. On that note, we should really talk about him. I'll get right to it. Jeremie's physical health is suffering right now. I'll have to do some blood work to be certain, but I feel like I can safely say there's no biological cause beyond simple neglect."
"Neglect?" asked Jim.
"He's been ignoring his body's own needs and even the things he wants, in favor of what he feels he needs to do."
"What do you mean, doctor?" asked Delmas.
"There is something he is working on using his computer. It consumes all of his time and his energy."
"What is it?"
"Jeremie acts like it's something very important," said Yolande. "But he declined to say what exactly it was."
"He did tell us that it's nothing that will harm anyone."
"And you're sure you can trust him on that?" asked Jim.
"It's a point of personal pride that my lie detection is fairly accurate. Besides, I'm sure you all know what the key to a convincing lie is. Or at least, it would surprise me if you didn't."
"It has to have a grain of truth," said Delmas.
"Exactly. Every good lie always has a little bit of truth to it. If he was going to lie about what I asked, he would have put in more effort. Instead, he gave me simple answers, less than three words long."
Delmas scratched his chin.
"So where does this leave us?"
"As I probably don't need to tell you, Jeremie is experiencing an extraordinary amount of stress, particularly when you factor in his age. There's no doubt in my mind that it's what caused the night terror he experienced, as well as the behavior you've experienced from him recently."
"So what would you suggest?" asked Jim. "We give him a vacation?"
"Not exactly," said Moreau. "Yolande told me she thinks Jeremie might have some deep-seated issues that he needs help working through, and I think she may be right. Things like that aren't something a simple vacation will fix, or even mitigate."
Moreau walked over to a nearby wall and scratched the back of his neck.
"What may be more terrifying than what Jeremie is going through is the fact that we are only just hearing about it. We only know about it now because his friends told you. It's a sad fact of life that people will often not immediately seek medical attention when they need it. Something stopped Jeremie from seeking out some kind of help, be it from his friends, his parents, his pediatrician, what have you. With that knowledge in mind, this could very well have been going on for years and we didn't even know about it."
"No offense, doc, but I think I would have noticed if Jeremie was doing this. The commotion woke up nearly all the students."
"I'm sure you would have, Jim. And that leads me to believe that this night terror was only the latest in a long line of symptoms. You could think of it as a distress call from the body. A sort of SOS, if you will."
Jim and Delmas looked at each other, then back at Moreau.
"Your thinking on this matter is certainly unorthodox, doctor…" said Delmas.
"But it also makes a…scary kind of sense," said Jim.
"I know it probably seems like I've already figured out what to do here, but the truth is, I don't think we're even close to resolving this. That's why, if you are open to it, I'd like to take this on as a project of my own. I may be able to help Jeremie, but I want to find out for sure."
Delmas looked down at his desk, then back up at Moreau.
"I'll be frank, Dr. Moreau. You have given this situation a great deal of your attention, and you've given us much-needed information. And it's clear you take Jeremie's problem completely seriously. So, I think that it would be foolish, dare I say, even vacuous, to dismiss your help in this matter. But I do have concerns about certain things which I simply cannot overlook."
"Go on."
"First, I do not want this to have a negative effect on Jeremie's schoolwork."
"From what I can tell, that seems to be the one thing that hasn't suffered as a result of his recent behavior. If I'm right, then if anything, Jeremie's work in class should improve if my treatment works. Perhaps even P.E., if we're lucky."
That got a hum of interest from Jim.
"Fair counterpoint," said Delmas. "We also can't proceed any further without the informed consent of Jeremie's parents."
"I agree. That's why I would be very appreciative if you could arrange a meeting with them."
Delmas nodded.
"There's one other matter. We glossed over it before, but your help…if even half of what I found about you is true, then your services must demand a hefty cost. Our school is equipped to handle medical costs, to a point. I am just not sure if your help would be something the school could front the cost for, and I would certainly not be comfortable asking Jeremie's parents to put it forth without some sort of dialogue. To be blunt, doctor…I imagine that your payment would have a fair number of zeroes at the end."
"If you must know, only the last few digits, not counting the decimals. And only as a final total at the end. But at the moment, cost is not something that concerns me. What Yolande may not have told you is that I have been looking at putting in more work with teens, children and young adults. I feel that helping Jeremie would be a good way to see if I measure up and can offer meaningful help to youths like him. As I said before, I approach my cases with zero expectations, but the only way to really know anything for sure, is to give it a try."
"So you're saying…"
"I am willing to work with Jeremie at no cost. Or, if you feel I must be compensated, you can arrange whatever payment you feel comfortable with, or think I deserve. But for now, that's the least of my concerns. Does that set your mind at ease, Mr. Delmas?"
Delmas's face took on the most relaxed state it had been for the entire conversation. The normally stern principal allowed himself the briefest, friendliest of smiles beneath his thick mustache.
"You've made a spectacular case for yourself, Marc. If what you say is in earnest, then I would be delighted to have you take on Jeremie as your patient. I'm sure my staff agree."
Yolande and Jim offered Moreau a small nod, the former smiling as she did so. Moreau himself turned and started toward the door.
"I left a couple of things out in my car. I'll go grab them and we can get started."
He exited the room, leaving it to the school staff. Jim's gaze remained fixed on the door, even after it had been closed.
"Have to say, Yolande. You know how to pick them."
Yolande chuckled.
"As competent as you think he is, double it, and you still won't quite have a close estimate of his abilities."
"You both seem pretty confident he can help."
"Me, more so than him. But Marc is a man of focus, commitment, and sheer will. He pursues the end relentlessly. He's the kind of doctor every patient should have."
To Be Continued…
Omake 1 – "I'd Rather Not Talk About It"
After Dr. Moreau left, Jim's gaze remained in the spot he had occupied for several minutes. He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but something about the polite, calm doctor reminded him of one of his past jobs – the ones he'd "rather not talk about."
His mind was sent back to a dark night in the city, years ago. He must have burned through his fifth cigarette as he stood guard in front of the nearby door. Ever alert, he kept all senses primed for anything out of the ordinary. All he could pick up were sharp shouts from nearby buildings, roaring engines from the nearby freeway, the smoke and mist from machinery traveling downwind, and an endless supply of neon lights that seemed to play chicken with one's retinas, much like the cigarette did with Jim's lips.
Jim opened his mouth and let the expended butt fall at his toe. Looking down, he barely moved his toe to put out the offending glow. But when he looked back up, the back of his head tapped the cold metal of a handgun.
Jim's eyes went wide for a moment as he collected himself and took a deep breath.
"Hello, John," he said.
"Good to see you, Jim," said a voice behind him.
Jim chanced a small turn of his head. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw an old, dear friend; a sharp dressed man with long hair and a well-groomed beard. Baba Yaga himself; not exactly the Bogeyman, oh no, but the one you sent to kill the ****ing Bogeyman.
"You're looking well," said John.
(A/N: John Wick – Keanu Reeves)
"You too."
"How's the family?"
"They're all well. Chris is part of a band now. Plays the drums. You might have heard of them. The Subsonics?"
John grunted in acknowledgement.
"You look like you've lost some weight, Jim."
"I'd say about 30 kilograms."
"Good for you."
Jim felt the gun barrel leave his neck.
"Why don't you take the rest of the night off, Jim?"
Jim nodded.
"Thanks, John."
With that, Jim turned and walked the opposite direction of his acquaintance. Not looking back, he soon heard the sounds of suppressed gunfire, yells, breaking glass, and thrown punches.
Even in the present day, as he stood against the wall of the principal's office, Jim could still feel the barrel of that gun against the base of his skull, along with the relief that that night hadn't gone differently.
"Be seeing you, John," he said, more to himself than anyone else.
Well, I hope everyone liked that. Took some doing, but I managed to put out this chapter along with just kind of an entertaining little idea for you to have fun with. I see authors put omake works in their stories now and then and thought I might do one of my own. Is it "canon?" You decide.
I also wanted to take this time to let you know that in the process of reformatting this story, I may be starting the whole thing over with a clean slate soon. No traffic, no reviews. So if you see this story suddenly erased from your favorites or follows, don't worry. It'll be back afterwards.
Until then, enjoy!
