Maya's POV
I sighed with exhaustion as I finally arrived at Harborview, the place where I had long desired to sleep. The driver of the midnight Lincoln slowed to stop, the crunch of the gravel permeating the silence.
"We've arrived, ma'am. I can assist with your luggage at the front desk, but they have tight security at this high-rise. I'm sure there is one to assist you further." The man with salt and pepper edges exclaimed, looking over his shoulder to me.
I smiled, pulling out cash to tip him. "That's alright, Aaron. If you can pull out my luggage, I can take it from there." I said, wrapping my purse strap across my chest.
"Yes, I would love to. I will grab the door for you." Aaron said before exiting the car. I heard the trunk pop open, feeling the lake breeze brush the back of my head. I looked to my left briefly, hearing the rumbling of a motorcycle rush past before turning right into the garage.
I jumped slightly as Aaron opened the passenger side, greeting me warmly. "Thank you," I said before sliding my legs out of the SUV. I moaned as my legs finally stretched fully out, cramped from the long flight to immediately the drive to the apartments.
Aaron helped me over the curb, closing the door softly behind me. "It was a pleasure assisting you, ma'am. Welcome to Port Charles!" Aaron said, placing the luggage handle in my right hand.
"Thank you, Aaron. You've been great. Have a blessed night." Aaron nodded before making his exit back to the SUV. I reached into my tote bag and pulled out my Crocs as my feet were killing me from the heels. I kicked them off before sliding on the pink sparkle crocs. I tossed my enemies in my tote before going to the ramp leading to the front entrance.
A 'swoosh' of air released as I walked into the locked foyer, lined with three elevators to the left of me. I shuffled forward to the doorbell, pressing the medium-sized metal circle and hearing a little chime.
I waited ten seconds before faint static was elicited from the speaker. "Welcome to Harborview! This is Andrew speaking; how can I help you?" A rich baritone voice said.
"Hello, Andrew. My name is Dr. Maya DuPont, and I'm a new tenant of the building. I'm checking in." I said.
"Dr. DuPont, welcome. Let me buzz you in." Andrew spoke before the speaker ended with a click. A soft hum emitted from the door, causing me to reach out and open. I walked into the beautiful mahogany lobby, decorated with vibrant green plants and bookshelves lining the wall.
I looked off to the side to see a tall, toned individual with bright green eyes and freckles over the bridge of his nose. His brown hair was slightly wavy, brushing his shoulders. "Dr. DuPont, welcome. I was informed of your arrival. I apologize for the inconvenience, as it's policy for tenants to receive access to the premises on the day of arrival." Andrew explained.
I smiled slightly, waving the sentiments off. "No issue at all. I'm just glad to be home. It was a long flight," I commented. Andrew had snapped his fingers before I felt a presence over my shoulders.
"Jorge, can you see that Dr. DuPont's luggage is taken to her residence?" Andrew asked, transferring my belongings to Jorge. Jorge nodded at me with a smile before completing the task.
"I promise to make this quick, as I don't want to keep you from relaxing. This process should take all of five minutes. I am just going to collect fingerprints and activate your keycard. Your picture was already taken before the visit," Andrew explained, leading me to the familiar back office.
Andrew was quick and efficient before leading me to the elevators within the building itself. "Give it a go, Dr. DuPont, " Andrew said, pointing to the card scanner. I tapped the card, and a green light blinked as I pressed the button.
"Oh, that's perfect. Thank you for your assistance," I chirped excitedly as I slid the card into my pocket.
"No problem. On another note, every tenant only has access to their floor. So no roaming, Dr. DuPont." Andrew stated as his green eyes grew a little intense.
The elevator dinged on the far left, causing me to look at the blooming light. "Got it, Andrew. Have a good night," I said before walking to the elevator. I was startled a little as two men were already on the elevator. Their conversation was cut short as they looked at me.
The man on the left was dressed in all black with a leather jacket to match. His dirty blonde hair was tapered on the sides, and the top brushed his ears. He was ruggedly handsome, with a slight frown noticeable in his eyebrows. He was probably a few inches taller than me, as I stood at 5'10. His icy blue eyes scanned me once before his frame relaxed slightly.
On the other hand, the man to the right eyes took a more extended look at me, pleased at what he was looking at. Just barely, his dimples peeked at his cheeks as his frame straightened at my presence. He had deep olive bronze skin and deep black hair slicked back. His coffee eyes met mine, feeling my cheeks warm at his attention. God, he was delectable, but everything told me he was trouble, and I needed to stay far away.
"Evening, gentlemen," I spoke softly as I stepped onto the elevator. I couldn't help the smirk that stretched across my lips as I turned my back to them.
"Evening." They mumbled in unison as I pressed level 13 before leaning against the wall with a sigh.
The scent of antiseptic lingered in the air, faint yet unmistakable. I stood at the entrance of General Hospital, her eyes scanning the bustling lobby as doctors, nurses, and patients moved through the space with the kind of urgent purpose only a hospital could evoke. I've had been in facilities like this my whole life—first as the daughter of a renowned surgeon, then as a patient myself, and now, as one of the most promising young psychiatrists in the country.
I adjusted my bag on my shoulder for the millionth time and took a deep breath. I was ready for this. After years of grueling work in psychiatric facilities from Houston to Chicago, Port Charles was supposed to be a calm change of pace. I navigated through the crowd to the North Tower, as General Hospital had just opened a new psych ward. I exited through the sea of white coats to the sixth floor. I looked to my right to see the locked ward but turned left as that was where the offices would be.
The freshly laid carpet muffled my heels as I walked four doors down to find an office with a gold plate stating, 'Dr. Maya DuPont'. I turned the cool steel to enter the cozy office. I smiled widely as I saw that they had organized my office as I had instructed them to. I hung my bag on the coat hook before heading to my desk, as I rarely waste time doddling.
I slid out my desk key to unlock the left drawer, where I found four patient files. The new unit was a 24-bed unit with six newly hired doctors. It was nice to have a manageable doctor-patient ratio compared to the county hospitals I previously did assignments at. I laid them across my desk before starting coffee at my counter.
I removed my glasses from my purse and slipped them on. Then, I opened the curtains, allowing the sun to burst through.
I sat down, picking up my first file to see that my patient was diagnosed with schizophrenia.
It took me about two hours to dot down notes on my first three cases before my eyes fell on my last patient, Elizabeth Webber. At first glance, I thought it was a simple case of grief and emotional disturbance, but my eyebrows raised into my hairline as I leaned back to read her nothing about this case, Elizabeth Webber, suggested this would be easy.
Patient File: Elizabeth Imogene Webber
Date of Birth:November 1, 1982
Age:41
Gender:Female
Occupation:Nurse at General Hospital
Marital Status:Divorced, Widow
Children:Cameron Webber (20), Jake Webber (14, deceased), Aiden Spencer (13)
Medical History:
Physical Injuries:Multiple injuries over the years, including bruises, lacerations, and head trauma related to various accidents, kidnappings, and violent encounters.
2011: Severe head trauma from an assault during her kidnapping.
2015:Sustained serious injuries following a car accident, including a broken leg and concussion.
2021:Gunshot wound during an altercation at the hospital.
Mental Health History:PTSD following numerous traumatic events, including multiple near-death experiences and the deaths of several loved ones.
Depression documented after the death of her husband, Franco Baldwin (2021). Symptoms include chronic sadness, lack of energy, and feelings of hopelessness.
Anxiety and nightmares related to past trauma, particularly surrounding her experiences with kidnapping and loss.
Periodic dissociative episodes in response to overwhelming stress.
Substance Use:No known history of substance abuse.
Hospitalizations:Multiple admissions to General Hospital for both physical injuries and psychological evaluations following traumatic incidents.
Family Medical History:
Mother: Carolyn Webber – No significant medical issues noted.
Father: Jeff Webber – History of heart disease.
Children: No significant medical concerns
Psychological Evaluation Notes:
Treating Physician: Dr. Maya DuPont, Psychiatrist
Initial Evaluation Physician: Dr. Kevin Collins
Initial Evaluation Date: September 6th, 2023
Presenting Concerns:Persistent nightmares, flashbacks, and insomnia.
Guilt and unresolved grief surrounding the deaths of multiple loved ones, including her late husband, Franco Baldwin, and ex-fiancés Lucky Spencer and Jason Morgan.
Difficulty establishing and maintaining trusting relationships due to ongoing trauma.
Previous Treatment:Periodic therapy sessions with various counselors at General Hospital.
Medications:Occasional use of antidepressants and anti-anxiety medications, though compliance has been inconsistent.
Suicidal Ideation:Attempted August 14, 2023, she was found unresponsive by her eldest son Cameron Spencer with a right unilateral deep wrist injury, nicking the ulnar artery. She remained comatose for about a week before coming back to the present.
Current Symptoms:Emotional numbness and detachment from daily life.
Hypervigilance, particularly in relation to her children's safety.
Intrusive thoughts about past trauma, especially relating to her relationships with Franco Baldwin and Jason Morgan.
Additional Notes:
Elizabeth Webber is well-known at General Hospital, both as a long-standing nurse and for her high-profile personal history. She has endured significant loss and trauma over the years, including multiple kidnappings, the presumed death and subsequent return of her son Jake, and the violent deaths of numerous loved ones.
Despite the emotional weight of her experiences, Elizabeth presents as a resilient, high-functioning individual. However, beneath her calm exterior lies deep-seated grief, unresolved trauma, and a lingering sense of guilt. Elizabeth has a pattern of becoming entangled in dangerous or traumatic events, which has resulted in repeated physical and emotional harm.
Therapeutic Focus:
Establishing trust and a safe therapeutic environment.
Gradual exploration of unresolved trauma, particularly regarding the death of Franco Baldwin and the impact of her long-term relationship with Jason Morgan.
Developing coping mechanisms for PTSD-related symptoms.
Encouraging emotional expression and addressing guilt related to the many losses in her life.
A voice interrupted my thoughts. I looked up to see a familiar face: Dr. Monica Quartermaine. "Dr. Quartermaine, it's nice to see you again." I closed the file before getting up to greet an older woman. Her blonde hair twisted up in a clip, her green eyes set deep into her occipital, and her bright smile perked across her pink lips.
"Dr. DuPont, welcome to General Hospital! I was rounding on everyone to see how they settled in, but you've been right to work." Monica lightly chuckled.
"I never want to miss a minute. Please, have a seat. Can I make you some coffee? I got some of the best brews right from the source of Cuba." I said, pushing out a plush seat.
"Oh, don't tempt. I promised my primary I'd cut back on the caffeine. So, I'll have to take a rain check on that." Monica explained as a soft grunt left her as she sat down, rubbing her knees.
"I'll hold you to it," I stated, walking around my desk to take a seat. "Well, I welcome the visit. I'm currently sorting through my files and getting to know my group. I am writing some vague treatment plans until I've gotten to sit down and meet everyone." I stated.
"Wonderful. I wanted you to meet Dr. Collins, but he's on vacation. So, if you need anything, please call me," Dr. Quartermaine said with a warm smile. She got up and nodded at me before making her leave. I bent down to exchange my heels for my Champion slip-on.
I sighed as I locked the files back up before grabbing my recorder, notepad, and stethoscope. I exited the office, ensuring I locked up before heading to the locked unit. I waved my badge, hearing the electronic click, before opening the door.
The bright white lights made me wince as I rounded the corner to see the nurses' hub and see that the morning shift nurses were taking reports from the night shift, so I opted to make introductions later.
In the fourth hour, I finally reached room 602, where Elizabeth Webber resided. I stepped back as the door opened, landing eyes on a petite woman with a warm smile and a clipboard clutched to her chest. She had whimsical red hair stuffed in a sloppy bun, and her eyes widened at my presence, not expecting me to be standing at the door. "Dr. DuPont! You've scared me a little bit." She chuckled. "Hi, I'm Sara. I'm one of the staff nurses on the floor." Sara introduced herself with a bright smile.
"Nice to meet you, Sara. It seems that you already know of me. How is Ms. Webber?" I responded politely, but my mind was elsewhere—already shifting gears to this appointment.
Sara's smile sullied as she looked back over her shoulder. "Ms. Webber has been the same, quiet and uninvolved. I tried to see if she'd try to eat a little something, but that was a no-go. She has always been petite but has definitely lost a little weight." Sara said, concerned. "Otherwise, vitals are fine."
I nodded, making a mental note of her observations. "Has she received any visitors that you know of?" I asked.
"Well, Dr. Webber usually stops to see her before his shift, and her sons come late evening after school," Sara explained.
"Is she usually receptive to their presence?" I questioned, peeking at the side window to see Elizabeth sitting at the window, head against the window pane.
"More so for her sons, really attentive." Sara offered.
"Thank you, Sara. I appreciate your observations. Can you try to organize her dinner with her sons' visits?" I asked.
Sara smiled brightly, nodding her head. "Yes, Dr. DuPont. I'll note it in her chart, " she said before bouncing off energetically down the hall. I stepped forward, knocking on the heavy door. Elizabeth didn't even twitch at the sound.
I twisted the knob, peeking my head between the crack to see that Elizabeth looked briefly before she released a deep sigh. I stepped into the bare room before sitting at the table that was off to the side. I took a moment to introspect as I observed her head to toe.
Her lifeless brown hair was frizzy, maybe even matted, tied into a ponytail. The hospital clothes dwarfed her petite frame as she curled into herself. Her blue eyes were dulled compared to the photo that was in her chart. My eyes caught the pink puckered skin on her right wrist, which contrasted her pale skin. It was angry-looking and jagged.
Elizabeth Webber was more than just a patient; she was practically a fixture in Port Charles, with a history so tangled in heartbreak, I wondered how the woman even managed to function. A nurse, a mother, and a woman who had lost far too many people—each scar, each trauma was well-documented, but I knew the real story would be told in the silences, the gaps between words.
"Ms. Webber," I began, smiling as she sat across from her. "I'm Dr. Maya DuPont, your new psychiatrist. How are you feeling today?"
Elizabeth gave a small, almost imperceptible shrug. "I'm... fine, I guess."
I didn't miss the hesitation in her voice, making a mental note. This wouldn't be easy, but difficulty was my language. If I wanted instant results, psychiatry was not a specialty for that. She leaned forward slightly, her gaze focused. "I'm here to listen, Elizabeth. We don't have to talk about anything you're not ready for. But I want you to know that you're safe here."
Elizabeth's eyes flicked to the window, her fingers tightening around the edges of her sweater. "Everyone says that," she whispered. "But no one really means it."
I felt the weight of the moment. "I mean it," I replied softly, my words more than just a promise—they were a commitment. You're safe with me, but I won't lie. This healing journey will not be easy. There will be more days that you'll hate me than appreciate me, more days crying than smiling. I'm the one person you can trust more than anyone. I want the bad, ugly, and grotesque. Whatever you tell stays between us. Understand?" I asked, leaning forward to see the full physical picture of Elizabeth Webber.
For a long, tense moment, silence filled the room. I could see the struggle in Elizabeth's face—years of pain trying to stay buried, even as it clawed its way to the surface. The first session was always the hardest. Trust took time, but I was patient.
Elizabeth finally spoke, her voice barely audible. "Where do we start?"
I smiled, the tension easing from her shoulders. "We start wherever you're ready to. There's no rush."
Elizabeth's gaze met hers, and I felt a small crack in the armor Elizabeth had built around herself for the first time since she'd entered the room. It wasn't much, but it was enough.
