SuDo Madhouse

by BigBJ

To others Hanna Frey is what she wants others to see, but Sam is the only one that sees her true side. However, given that Hanna has reincarnated into multiple dimensions and universes, it's no wonder that she might have a few screws loose. Follow the adventures of Hanna and Samantha throughout their life. OC-SI into Hanna Frey, A journey of damnation and maybe redemption.

36. Chapter 36: Reorienting

THIRD PARTY POV

Under the cool white fluorescent light, stands more than a dozen people are wearing a multitude of different uniforms, showing their position in the hospital. All of them are squeezed into the small meeting room with a water-stained wall and grouped together in a circle.

Some are giving this meeting their entire attention, some are glancing at their phones, some are whispering to each other the latest gossips that's going around the ward or the hospital at large, and some are just staring off into the ether. Mary, on the other hand is paying attention to whoever is speaking at the moment as if their words have ensnared her. Mayhaps it's rather extreme for the young woman to be so engrossed in a rather run of the mill daily roundup meeting for the morning shift, but her youthful enthusiasm hasn't been bludgeoned out from her yet, unlike some of her other peers. Martha is less enthused about the going on of the meeting, but out of pure professionalism, she pays attention to the meeting with nothing distracting her.

"Now that the dourer news is out of the way, let's move on to the good to the good reports." Dr. Keynes says with a smile as he brings up his little notebook. "Despite Robin's refusal to even acknowledge my existence. It's only been a few days, but I'm very certain that Robin's period of lucidity after using the phones has been going longer each day. Even though I was inertially sceptical about it, I can't, but once again, thank Mary for your contribution to Robin's recovery."

Dr. Keynes flashes a smile at the young woman, who blushes out of embarrassment at the attention she's getting and mumbles. "It's nothing."

"We've been getting positive reports from the group leaders." Dr. Keynes brings up a few pieces of paper from the table he's leaning on. "She might not be talking in the group sessions, but she appears to be fully engaged with the activities, at least on the visual level. She looks towards movements, watches others for their reactions to what's happening and even expresses herself with facial expressions."

Dr. Keynes pauses for a second, but Mary smirks, as she knows what the good doctor is going to add next. "Many of which seems to be condescending, but that's up to personal interpretation."

"Yeah, right… She looked at me as if I was the dumbest person in the room." A group leader pitches in, which causes an avalanche of remarks by everyone in the room that has any kind of contact with the semi-lucid patient.

"I'm pretty sure there was a look of disgust when she's just staring at the other patients when she sits in the dayroom." Sarah casually adds.

"No, that's her looking at Eric." Martha lazily threw in her two cents.

"Nah, she looks like that to everyone." A male nurse adds.

"Except for Farrah." Mary finally speaks up, causing others to look at her with an unimpressed stare, knowing full well that it isn't the case most of the time. "Well… when she's lucid."

"I still can't believe your hairbrained idea of letting Robin use the phone works." One of the tech speaks up as he glances at Mary.

"Well, it worked, didn't it?" Mary replies defensively at the man, feeling slightly peeved by what he says.

The tech, feeling a bit defensive put up his hands and replies. "Hey, I'm not dissing you, it's just that procedure is to not indulge in a patient's hallucinations."

"Got a better idea?" Mary bites back.

"Alright everyone, calm down." Dr. Keynes raises his voice to quell the crowd of adults before it can devolve further.

"You know…" Sarah breaks into the conversation. "I talked to the girls on M-unit, and they said Robin's cousin got a phone call similar to Robin on the same day as Robin's call."

"She has a cousin?" Mary quirks her head at the nurse.

Martha rolls her eyes and chides her junior. "Did you not read her profile?"

"Huh?" Mary sounding more confused than before.

"The profile for new patients that was sent to everyone's email?" Martha shakes her head, causing the younger woman to blush in embarrassment at the multitude of stares she's getting in forgetting to read her emails.

But before Mary can say anything, the tech says pointedly to Sarah. "You can't possibly think it's connected, can you?"

"Who knows?" Sarah just shrugs. "It's just weird as hell that they both got phone calls from phones that can't receive calls."

"So, god's actually calling both women?" The tech with mock scepticism.

"You got a better idea?" Sarah shoots back. "I'm not saying it's God or whatever, just an observation that shit's weird as hell."

The man mulls for a second before answering. "Maybe there are rats chewing on the phone lines?"

Sarah deadpans at the man. "Rats chew on the phone line at the exact time each day and only when Robin walks by a phone?"

"Has her cousin had been getting calls as well? Has it been helping her as well?" Mary can't help but asks. Even if she didn't read Robin's, Mary can deduce that if the cousin isn't in this unit, that means she must be more lucid compared to her cousin, and the fact that she's in M-unit tells her that the cousin has violent tendencies.

Sarah shakes her head. "Nothing since the first call, and some of the girls think Anna's going to snap and hurt someone if she doesn't get another call."

"… that's weird." Mary mutters.

The nurse scoffs, "Yeah, no shit."

"As interesting as this is, we have a meeting to finish." Dr. Keynes says with restraint in his voice as he's been patiently waiting for everyone to get it out of their system.

"Sorry doctor." Sarah says non-apologetically.

"We can't presume what we can't observe…" The doctor levels a look at everyone in the room, even those whose been quiet since the beginning. "… but we can tangibly observe that she's improving. She even formed a friendship with… Farrah, right?"

"Yup." The group team leader and Sarah replies at the same time, then the team leader continues. "From what I keep on seeing is that she's… it's difficult to say, but she seems to prefer sitting next to Farrah during class."

"Same for when they both have free time. Robin would sit next to Farrah in the dayroom… even if Farrah doesn't know what to do when Robin doesn't respond, but they seem comfortable enough with each other." Sarah adds.

The art group team leader nods in agreement to what Sarah just said and continues. "And when the group gets rowdy as it always does, they… and I swear to God, it looks like they share a mischievous look with each other… if you know what I mean? Like they're revelling in the chaos. Other than that, there was an interest event yesterday for Robin… she puts her hand on Mia's shoulder when she cried."

"That's a good sign." The doctor smiles. "It shows that she understands another person is in distress and tries to comfort her."

The team leader doesn't look impressed and replies. "I'm pretty sure she was scowling at Mia not long after that."

"Not everyone's perfect." The doctor replies as he takes it in stride before continuing with reading the report. "The other good news is that she's finally out of the sling and favours that arm, but she tries to avoid using it, which is what we want to see. The techs and IT have been monitoring and recording the calls she's been getting, but like the first call, there was no one on the other line. The only thing that's been changing is her replies. Most of the things she says, or replies, are very stereotypical in a conversation with a close friend, now however, she's been using more and more jargon that flies over everyone's head. We're not sure if she's doing that to throw us off, or it's just innocent talk."

"Maybe it's some secret code phrases." Mary suggests with interest.

"Possibly." The doctor replies curtly, as he put down his note and picks up a few stacks of paper. "The art therapist gave me these yesterday. We've moved on from writing hashtag ROOT over and over to…" The doctor shuffles the paper. "… an unlabelled flowchart… drawing of a payphone… drawings of a New York payphone… and a collage of birds with red marker on them." He puts down the paintings. "I think we all know why she's drawing payphone… as for why she's drawing New York specifically…" the doctor scratches his jaw. "According to her uncle, it seems like she works in the city for a while now, and he confirms that the precipitating trauma involved an attempt to contact God on a public payphone."

The doctor picks up one of the papers and poses a question to the room. "Perhaps the flowcharts are an attempt to map out a decision process?"

Some of the people just nods not having anything to add, some don't react at all, and Mary speaks up. "Robin is a programmer by trade… and programmers use flow charts in their work."

"Now, how do you know that?" Martha asks with curiosity.

"My little brother is taking compsci." Mary quickly replies to her co-worker before continuing with her analysis. "As for the bloody birds, I believe she's expressing frustration with her name. On the few times she talked to me during her lucid periods, she really seems to hate the name she has and one time she ranted that the voice on the phone told her to not reveal her real name."

The doctor frowns at that and says. "But Robin Farrow is her real name."

"I know…" Mary shrugs. "… Robin even told Farrah that isn't her real name… even if she's delusional, I think that's the meaning of being behind the bloody birds. Robin is a name of a bird."

"Huh…" Sarah speaks up with a look of realization on her. "Her uncle's name is Wren… that's a name of a bird too."

The doctor seemingly is following the flow of the conversation and brings up the paper with the bird drawing.

"Those aren't wrens or robins." The group leader points towards the paper. "Look at the cheeks, the pattern, and the colouring… Those are finches."

"Didn't know you were a bird watcher, Elliot." Sarah grins at her colleague.

The man just shrugs. "It's a peaceful hobby."

"Anyway…" Mary picks up again. "She's a programmer, not a bird expert."

"Has she ever stated why she believes her name isn't her real name?" The doctor asks to both Sarah and Mary.

"Farrah mentioned that it annoys her because she has many other names and that her uncle used Robin." Sarah relays back to the doctor what Farrah mentioned.

"She got multiple personality?" A nurse's aide speaks up from the back.

Mary shakes her head. "No, from how Farrah describes it… it's like she has multiple aliases or pseudonym."

Before anyone can continue, the door to the small meeting space creeks opens revealing a nurse's aide.

"I'm sorry, but we're in a meeting right now. We'll be done shortly." The doctor speaks up to the newcomer.

"Sorry, I know it's just…" The nurse's aide looks to be a new addition to the hospital. "… We just need help… it's Robin."

"Of course, it's Robin…" One of the tech mutters loudly. "It's always her."

"What's wrong?" Mary asks her fellow nurse's aide in a pleasant tone, knowing full well that being new to the hospital is a challenge.

"Robin… she missed her call…" The nurse's aide looks around nervously. "But she's lucid."

"What?" Sarah perks up that unexpected development. "How did that happen?"

The doctor looks at his wristwatch. "How long has it been?"

Not wanting to be left out, Mary pitches in. "Is she talking to someone?"

The newcomer looks at the three of them with slight shock and calmly answers. "Robin was walking her normal route until she comes across an altercation between Mia and Eric. She got between them and got punched before the techs could have deescalate the situation. Between her getting a bloody nose and everyone handling the situation, she missed her call. It's been a couple of a minute since she's lucid and I came here as soon as I can. And she only talked to Mia for a bit before she continued her walk towards the dayroom."

Like a pin dropped on the floor, the doctor, the nurse and the nurse's aide quickly get up from their position and left the room to investigate this surprise development.

"We'll continue this later." The doctor says before leaving the room.

It only took them a few minutes to reach the dayroom on the floor below and when they reach the periphery of the room, they all stopped to see their handful patient.

Robin's sitting alone on the couch, while the other patients just linger about, not knowing what to do with a lucid Robin and brunette's usual sitting partner is nowhere in sight. The woman of interest looks incredibly bored as she lazily page through the magazine on her lap with her legs on the coffee table. If there's a sight that says someone is bored out of their mind, it's the sight before them. The room might seem to be empty of hospital personal, but from their vantage point, they can see one or two hospital staff hovering at a distance and observing Robin.

"What should we do?" Sarah asks her superior as they try to keep themselves out of sight.

"Where's Farrah? She's normally here." Mary comments as she looks at the remarkable scene with keen interest.

"I believe Farrah has a session doctor McConnell right now." The doctor answers Mary first before continuing. "Personally, I would like to observe Robin longer before approaching her, but she may need more stimulation than an out-of-date woman's magazine. I would like to approach her, but she hates my guts."

Mary and Sarah share a look with each other before both of them step out of their hiding spot and onto Robin's field of view. To their surprise, the woman of interest doesn't even acknowledge their presence and continues to look through the magazine with boredom. Their presence in front of Robin seems to have attracted curious looks from almost every person in the dayroom.

Sarah nudges her head to towards Robin while looking at Mary, basically saying that the nurse's aide has a better rapport with the patient and not one to disappoint, Mary nods.

"Ahem." Mary clears her throat, trying to attract Robin's attention, but the woman still doesn't look up from her magazine. Undeterred by the snub she's receiving, she trudges on by saying. "Robin?"

After a few seconds, Robin answers with a. "Hmm?"

Mary, not knowing what to say next, she asks the basic. "Are you okay?"

"Why wouldn't I be?" Robin answers absentmindedly as she flips another page that's talking about a horoscope for last month's zodiac.

"You're reading a book." Mary blurts out, only realizing how stupid that sounds after the fact.

"Really?" Robin says in a mocking tone. "I wouldn't count this magazine thing to be literature, but I guess I have standards."

Both Mary and Sarah stare at Robin with amazement, as the woman doesn't even look up from her magazine.

"Did you talk on the phone?" Mary can't help but ask to confirm the claim.

"No… that loudmouth was being an asshole and I can't help but knock him down a peg again." Robin answers with a bored tone as she flips to another page.

"You got a bloody nose." Sarah can't help but quip.

"Yeah, and the dude's face got intimate with the floor and now is in the fun room." Robin rolls her eyes.

Mary's eyes widen at this sudden development and says. "You helped Mia, but you missed your call."

Robin still does not look up from her magazine and replies. "Shit happens and tomorrow is another day."

"Robin, you're talking…" Sarah expresses her amazement. "… and you missed your call."

That seems to tear Robin's attention away from the engrossing topic of the magazine and look at the two women.

Robin raises a brow and says. "That's new to you?"

"Yes." Practically everyone in the room says in unison, which causes Sarah to glare at the other patients being busy bodies.

Robin still doesn't look one bit surprised, twirls her finger to everyone in the room and says. "You lot are all crazy and I've been talking for days on end now."

Not knowing what to say to that delusion, both of the hospital staff mutters an, "Uh-huh."

---

ROOT POV

Root is picking the thread on the chair she's sitting on, it's one of the few comfortable pieces of furniture to sit on in this whole ward. She would know, seeing that she spent the last few days going around, finding the best place to sit out of pure boredom while she waits for The Machine to call her.

Thinking about The Machine makes her all giddy inside and she can't wait for the next time they can talk again, even if sometimes The Machine's suggestions were not that relevant to her current predicament or needs. Such as telling her to go visit that god awful man, which she ought to break his nose for his first infraction… Alas, The Machine gave her an ultimatum to talk to the man or it would stop calling her again.

… Well, The Machine didn't actually say that, but The Machine was very insistent that she be here, and Root can't go back to before, to the cold dark water… thinking about that sends shivers down her spine.

So here she is, sitting with her feet on the chair and pulling the thread, while she waits for that man to finally open his trap, as she refuses to do first contact with the man that interrupted her first call with God. Such a thing would have constituted a death penalty, but The Machine told her to not hurt anyone, and following that is easy enough… even if this person deserves it.

"Now, Miss Farrow." Doctor dickface puts down his notes after a minute of mutual silence. "Three full days of consciousness with no relapse, been communicating with others even if a bit distant, all signs of full cognitive thoughts."

Doctor dickface leans onto his table. "By all accounts of the nurses and my own observation, it looks like your condition has been stabilized and you're cleared to be transferred to M-Unit."

"Whoopie doo, I'm graduating." Root draws out her words sarcastically.

Guess this is what The Machine wants her to know? Her being transferred away from this lot of sheep? It isn't surprising, given what she's seen from the patients that resides in this ward, most of them, in some way shape or form incapacitated or very passive people… except for Eric, but that man is more of an annoyance to her than anything else. Maybe she can try getting the man thrown into confinement again before she leaves this ward.

She then continues. "What the hell is the difference between this and that place?"

Doctor dickface doesn't look phased by her unenthusiasm or rudeness, answers. "Well, since you have a history of violence and was ordered by a court to be here, M-Unit is more capable of handling your situation."

"Oh great, lump me in with all the wife beaters." Root replies as she digs her nail into the armrest.

"That's uncharitable of you, Robin." Doctor dickface raises his hand to defend her future housemates. "Most of the patients there aren't violent… they just need a more… delicate touch."

… That's the most condescending thing he's said in the entire time she knows him, which isn't long, and it really makes her want to punch him. Sadly, that counts as hurting him… but The Machine didn't state what kind of pain she should avoid giving… heh.

"Oh, that's encouraging. There's nothing wrong with me and you're tossing me in with the others who need strap jackets." She glares at the man as she continues to ruin his chair.

"Don't be so pessimistic, Robin." Doctor dickface says in an overtly friendly tone and he continues. "You'll have your cousin there to keep you company and she's been eager to meet you again."

That brings her thought process into a crashing halt as she stops whatever activity she's doing, as if the man in front of her just pressed her off button.

…

"Cousin?" Root mutters after a taking a second to restart her brain.

With that restart, her mind blazes through what he said and the jarring question.

Who the fuck is her cousin? Because she sure as fuck knows that she doesn't have any family… that isn't true… mom had family, but those fuckers fucking abandoned mom, so they don't count. Not like that matter, since they don't even know of her existence.

So… "Who the fuck is my cousin?" Root eloquently asks aloud.

Doctor dickface instantly frowns at her and stares at her as if she's grown another head. "… Your Cousin? … Anna? She's came here as well."

Who the fuck is Anna?

Root's pretty sure that she didn't say that part aloud, but the frown on doctor dickface deepens as he quickly brings up his notes and asks. "Are you experiencing memory problems?"

Knowing full-well whatever answers she gives next will determine whatever the fuck drugs they're going to give her.

She shakes her head and mutters. "No… just…"

Cousin?

Who the fuck can that be? Dickface in front of her looks genuinely puzzled by her reaction… looks like he believes what he's saying.

… Her mind is racing through all the possibilities, but none of it makes sense…

She needs to take a step back and think properly. Start with the first principle.

Root didn't miraculously appear at this place. Harold was the one that dumped her into this godforsaken place. This man references her cousin as a woman… there were only two women other than her in that fucking nuclear site.

One of them shot her and the other…

Dread builds in her as she feels her stomach turns into a knot.

… No, that can't be true. There's no reason for her to be here… but who else can it be? Shaw's in here to keep an eye on her? That makes little sense. Harold can easily monitor her from afar…

Then, it feels like a wave crash into her gut, leaving a gaping hole as she realizes…

No… why is she here?

Her heart spikes up as she grips on the armrest for dear life.

She can see dickface trying to get her attention, but she can't hear a single word he says from the thumping of her heart.

Take deep breaths. She can't fuck up in front of this dickface, not when he's the one that's controlling whatever the hell they are giving her.

Deep breaths…

"Robin?" The dickface asks as the volume of the thumps lowers.

She doesn't answer as her mind is still in a jumbled mess but when the dickface repeats. "Robin, are you okay?"

"Yeah." She barely whispers as she tries to maintain her composure in front of this man, while her mind tries to orientate itself.

Of all the places in the world, why is she in the fucking loony bin with her?

Why didn't The Machine say anything about this when they had their calls? It would have told Root about this, about her… but why didn't it?

… The Machine told her to be here… to be in this room facing the dickface… that has to count for something. The Machine knew about her being here but is telling her now through this dickface.

But why wouldn't it tell Root about her when they were on their calls? Had it wanted her to be seated for this fucking revelation? If so, that's considerate of the machine, but it would have been better to hear it out from its voice rather than this dickface.

That leaves her with… why the fuck is she here?

Root can't possibly imagine that she would ever willingly come to this place in her own free will… unless it wasn't?

… That's a whole fucking rabbit hole she didn't expect to think about and doesn't want to.

…

What if there's something wrong with her? Has something happened to her since that day? If so, then these assholes would have told her, wouldn't they? The Machine would have definitely told her if there's something wrong, seeing that God was very talkative about other people's misfortunes… then that leaves her with the conclusion that she for some reason came here willingly and stayed in this shithole for the past three plus weeks.

But why would she do that? Is it for her? That's a possibility…

That's sweet… Root can't remember the last time she shown this kind of gesture towards her since…

No…

She cliches her right hand so tight it hurts.

No, no, no…

She can't be doing this again… not after everything and all the shit she's been through because of her. Root can't let herself be dragged back, and she has The Machine now. All is fine now; all is going to be fine after this.

But… maybe she…

No!

… Yes?

No!

Doctor dickface, leans closer to her with a worried look on him as he tries to get her attention. "Robin? Are you okay?"

"Must I go?" Root lets out a barely audible whisper.

Doctor dickface quirks his head and says. "Sorry? I couldn't catch that."

"Nothing, just drifting thoughts." Root says loud enough for doctor dickface to hear.

This sudden curve ball, the machine silence on the matter, the insistent of her coming here today…

All of this is leading her to the conclusion that The Machine wants her to meet with that… bitch.

"Are you sure, Robin?" Doctor dickface presses further, looking unsatisfied with her reply. "If you're feeling like regressing back to your previous state, there's no shame in telling me now and we can see how to prevent it."

But why would it want Root to meet her? Sure, her original goal was to fix her, but now… argh. This is just too much. Let's just deal with it when it happens and not get an aneurysm before that.

"I'm fine… my head isn't going back to before. Just trying to wrap my head around what you're saying." Root says as she, for the first time since coming here, leans back on to her seat.

That didn't seem to remove the worry from doctor dickface's face, but the man relents and says. "If you say so, but talk to Sarah or Mary if you feel like you're regressing."

"Sure…" Root says absentmindedly before remembering what the dickface said earlier and she continues. "M-Unit… My cousin…"

God, it's fucking weird to call her 'cousin'. They never acted like cousins…

Was that Harold's idea?

"Anna?" Doctor dickface continues her sentence for her.

Her name now is Anna? Did she choose that name, or did Harold? Because it's awfully close to her first name and that shit isn't coincidence.

Why the fuck is her name Robin then? Because it's starts with an R and because her name is Root? When she thought she couldn't be more disappointed at Harold, the man gives her a boring ass name.

"Yeah, Anna." Root tries out the name that sounds so foreign to her and yet sounds weirdly familiar. Just missing a single character to be something completely different.

Doctor dickface smiles at her as he says. "You know, she's been asking to see you since the both of you were placed into our care."

Even in the state that she was in previously, she would have noticed her visiting her.

"I haven't seen her." Root says flatly.

"Oh, that's because Doctor Diaz, your cousin's psychiatrist, hasn't approved any visitation…" Doctor dickface lingers for a second before quickly adding. "But it doesn't mean your cousin doesn't care or stops thinking about you."

She can't help but snorts at that statement. Yeah right, that woman sure as hell knows how to show that she cares.

Also, what the fuck? Denial? Because that is like putting up a paper wall in trying to stop a raging bull. Shit like that won't stop her and yet… it did stop her.

"Is that hospital policy?" Root asks as she looks dead into the doctor's eyes.

The man shakes his head. "It's not…" he lets out a sigh. "… I don't know the details, but from what I heard is that your cousin is refusing to talk to her psychiatrist."

There's a million reasons for not talking to these people, but let's just asks. "Why?"

"Like I said, I'm not privy to the details, but the word around the water cooler is that your cousin did not have the best first session with Doctor Diaz when she did not approve of the visitation back then." Doctor dickface talks with his hands moving about.

"Refusing…" She whispers before a loud snort escapes her and she rolls her eyes as she understands what's going on.

Of course, that woman would use the silent treatment against a doctor… it's so fucking on brand of her.

A few seconds of silence descend between them as the doctor is gauging her facial expression and mood, while she ponders on everything.

She then breaks the silence, asking a question that's been burning at the back of her head. "Is she okay?"

That didn't catch the man off guard at all and, by the looks of it, he seems to have expected it.

"As far as I know, she hasn't changed much since coming here…" The man pauses for a second. "… Well, except for her gunshot wounds, those are healing just fine."

Gunshot wounds? As in plural? She only got shot once… Shaw and the big lug really got trigger-happy after taking her out, didn't they? Had this happened before the trip to Handford, she would have hunted them down like vermin… but now she doesn't feel much other than annoyance.

"Although…" The man continues, but stops himself and he shakes his head. "Never mind."

This man is dumb or something? That kind of shit is the most obvious bait for her to interact with this conversation. Unless the man is the most socially dumb psychiatrist ever.

So, she takes on the bait. "What?"

He shakes his head again. "You shouldn't worry yourself about it. I'm sure it will pass."

This man really knows how to make her want to punch him in the nose. First was interrupting her call from God and now he's playing coy about something she wants to know.

"Just tell me about it." Root grits out the word as she leans forward towards the man.

"I haven't witnessed it in person but… I've been told by the nursing staff from that M-Unit that your cousin has been more and more agitated in the past five days." Doctor dickface has a sympathetic look on him. "Been snappier towards everyone and especially the staff… but I'm sure it's nothing."

An agitated Su? That doesn't bode well for the denizens of that ward or the entirety of this hospital, in fact, and The Machine really, really doesn't want violence to erupt here at all, from the countless times it told her during their conversations.

Root lets out a sigh… she better fix whatever the fuck is going on before things explode and the slight chance that The Machine refuses to talk to her again because of that. Seeing that The Machine has a task for her… even if Root doesn't know what the task is right now, she can't fail God.

Despite her mind and body telling her to avoid that person, she'll do it if God commands her to.

"When am I going?" Root says flatly.

"Tomorrow morning." Doctor dickface answers instantly. "Sarah is going to help you to your new ward and someone from there will help you to your new room, then orientation."

"Great… always love orientations." Root mutters as she gets up from her seat, unable to contain this odd energy within her.

"Robin, we're not done here." Doctor dickface protests as she turns around to walk towards the door.

"Oh, I think we are." Root says without turning back and exits out of the office, not caring of the consequences of doing so.

Craning her head up, she sees the clock stating that it's half-past three… how the hell did that short conversation take an hour? She barely had a conversation with the dickface and an hour passed…

Unable to answer her own question, Root just shrugs to herself and walks the familiar path down the hallway to the dayroom.

Once there, she spots her usual couch, and there's a noticeable lack of a petite lady that's been hovering around her for the past few days. She quickly takes a seat on the empty couch and grabs the nearest brain numbing magazine.

It's not like she dislikes her presence, it's just odd that someone would want to talk to her at all when she isn't even putting up a front of friendliness or is trying to attract someone.

Kinda reminds her of Francine… they both even have the same good nature attitude towards life. Maybe that's why she's been tolerant of Farrah, because she reminds her of her only remaining friend… Well, unlike the red head, Farrah clearly isn't insane even if she's in this place.

Root's pretty sure if a normal person witnesses and does a fraction of what Francine has experienced, they would experience a psychotic break and quickly toss into the nearest loony bin. And yet Francine still smiles like all is right in the world.

Somehow Su managed to find a person that has more screw loose in their brain than both Root and Su combined… Su…

Shit, what does that mean between her and Francine now? That woman follows the bitch's word like it's the word of God.

With one word, Su can end their friendship or Francine herself might end it when she finds out about the falling out. The only reason why they're friends in the first place is because of the bitch… Does that mean they're real friends or just good co-workers?

Argh, fuck it. There's no use in stressing about the what ifs and what nots. If shit fell through between of them because of her train wreck of a relationship between her and the bitch, then so be it. Even if it's sad.

Genuinely fucking sad, if that comes to pass. She's going to miss getting shitfaced together… well, it's more like she's the one that blind ass drunk while Francine sporadically sips wine because she's too much of a teetotaler.

Argh, why is she feeling sad when there's nothing to be sad about? Shit hasn't even happened yet! Must be the fucking drugs they are staffing down her throat or the fucking Ativan. Shit messes with her mind. No fucking wonder why mom hates taking meds.

"You look like you're constipated." The familiar voice of a woman breaks through her internal monologue. "What did that magazine do to offend you?"

Root glances upwards to Farrah from the magazine that she hasn't been reading and deadpans. "The usual things that make me want to gouge my brain out with a spoon."

"I see the usual stuff then." Farrah comments like it's the most normal thing as she takes a seat beside Root.

"Where've you been?" Root asks out of curiosity as she takes a proper look at what the hell is on the magazine.

"Oh, you know, the usual… lunch, session with doc, talking to the tech and my usual lingering about." Farrah answers as she leans deep into the stiff couch.

"Sounds like fun." Root says in a rather absentminded fashion as her mind slowly drifts back to her previous thoughts.

"You think SpongeBob's next?" Farrah nods at the TV that's showing some daytime drama from a decade ago. Nothing special about it since the hospital checked beforehand, so it doesn't trigger anyone in the dayroom.

"Obviously, we both seen the schedule on the notice board." Root rolls her eyes as she answers.

"So, I hear you're being transferred." Farrah casually asks.

"Now, how the hell would you know about that?" Root looks to her seating partner with a raised brow.

Farrah shrugs and answers nonchalantly. "The nurses talk a lot."

"This place leaks more than a sinking ship." Root mutters as she shakes her head.

"So, it's true then?" Farrah presses on. "You're going to be transferred to another unit?"

Root places down the magazine and answers. "Yeah, dickface told me a few minutes ago, and it's a fucking wonder you know about it so fast."

"And I can't believe you call Doctor Keynes that. He's super chill, unlike some of the other docs." Farrah reports before her eyes glint with curiosity. "What unit you're heading to?"

Root simply answers. "M-Unit."

Farrah lets out a whistle and raises her brows. "It's not because of Eric, right?"

She lets out an amused snort. "God no, I don't think me threatening to shiv Eric with a pencil would land me there." Root shakes her head. "Only reason I'm in this unit was because my brain decided to go on a vacation, but now I'm good. They're tossing me there, since this is a court order stay."

Root still can't believe Harold would have had the balls to forge a court order to dump her here. She knows he isn't a total goody two shoes, but what he did went beyond anything she's observed from him. She felt a bit giddy at the thought of pushing Harold slightly off the edge.

"Seriously, what the hell did you do?" Farrah asks curiously. "I couldn't catch any of the nurses talking about it."

She can't help but snort at that surprise, seeing how loose lips those people have.

"I kidnapped my uncle and pointed a gun at him." Root deadpans.

Farrah's eyes widen in shock and presses on after a second of silence. "But you didn't shoot him?"

"How do you think I got this wound?" Root nudges towards her sore shoulder. "Someone shot me before I could."

"That's wild." Farrah mutters softly, but she didn't move away from Root at the revelation. Interesting that she isn't afraid of her in the slightest… wonder what she's in here for. Root didn't think of asking about it or listened to any of their shared sessions, not like there was much talking in art class anyway.

"But do you think you'll be okay in that unit?" Farrah continues on with slight worry in her voice. "There're some seriously crazy people up there. I heard there's this dude that stabbed his wife 40 times with a paring knife."

A paring knife? That guy seriously couldn't have used a proper kitchen knife to do a better job? Seeing that he's in here rather than on Wards Island, that tells her he failed miserably.

"Don't worry. If I can't handle a dude like that, even in my current state, then I deserve to get stabbed." Root says with a slight smile. "How about you? You're the only cheerful person in this morose unit, everyone else is either out of their mind or just plain boring."

Farrah takes a second to take in the morbid answer before saying. "Doc says I might be going to A-unit in a week or so. They're afraid that I'll check out again if I go straight out from here."

Hmm… guess she fits in here then. Wonder what happened… maybe The Machine can fill her in whenever they talk later in a few minutes if that clock is right.

"The step-down unit? Congratulations." Root replies with a genuine smile for the younger woman.

"I'm going to miss you, though." Farrah sadness in her voice despite her cheerful smile. "I mean, most of the time we knew each other you couldn't talk, but it's nice having someone around that was able to see how fucked up it is in here."

"Really now?" Root says with slight amusement. "I'm pretty sure I couldn't have said anything."

Her seating companion just shrugs. "I guess I could just tell… not sure how, but your constant frown at everyone, helped."

That cause her to chuckle softly. "Now that's an understatement. This place is literally a madhouse, and we might be the only sane ones here."

"Calling ourselves sane might be stretching it." Farrah says with an amused smile. "We're all in here for a reason."

"I know you didn't have to always stay by me, but thank you for doing it, anyway." Root says sincerely. "You remind me of a friend… a slight piece of normalcy in this shithole."

"Really, I hope I can meet your friend one day. She sounds fun." Farrah says cheerfully.

"She's always busy with work, so I doubt that." Root replies, knowing full well that Pauling doesn't have a social life outside of herself and Su or the rest of the contractors, if they even count.

"Do you think we'll ever see each other on the outside?" Farrah says softly.

Root turns to face the woman dead on and says. "No."

Farrah's shoulders slags slightly at that answer and mutters an. "Oh."

"We live in two completely different worlds, and my world isn't entirely safe." Root continues on. "But that doesn't mean I'm unreachable. I'm always on the internet, just look up my name."

Farrah quirks her head. "Friendczar or Facebook?"

She lets out a snort. "Neither, nor should you use those sites; they're just big hubs for data mining. Just search my name and I'll know you're looking for me."

"Can't be Robin Farrow, right?" Farrah questions with a quirked brow.

"Course not." Root replies instantly. "That isn't my name."

"You said your God won't let you tell anyone your real name." The younger woman skeptically.

"Well, it's my job to interpret god's commands." Root leans in with a grin. "And it can be interpreted as to not tell the hospital staff my name."

"Well, I don't know about your god, but God's word is God's word, not much to interpret." Farrah comments stubbornly.

She rolls her eyes and says. "Name's Root… nice to meet ya."

"Root?" Farrah says, like it's a foreign word. "That's an odd name."

Root looks up at the clock again and gets up. "I'll see you if I see you."

She has a meeting with God, and she really needs to ask what the fuck was that curve ball for.

---

The next day, Sarah came into her room early in the morning, just after waking up time and just enough time for Root to do her morning routine. There wasn't much in her room to bring with her, other than whatever dollar store clothes Harold got for her when he dumped her here.

The brief journey to M-unit was a rather pleasant one, even though she knows what she has to face later, and she really doesn't want to do it… but The Machine was rather steadfast when they talked about it yesterday and she isn't one to dismiss God's commandment.

Even if The Machine was being rather vague about her reasoning for this… well, more vague than usual.

After an elevator ride and a few drab corridors, they arrive at M-unit. And she can't help but be disappointed at the scene because the place looks exactly the same as her previous unit… if she ignores the extra security doors that she had to go through that being constantly monitored… and more burly dudes in this area.

"Morning Gloria!" Sarah says with an out of character cheerfulness after she knocks on the office door near the nurse's station. "This here is your new transfer."

"Oh, hey Sarah." A blonde woman in her mid-forties waves at them. "Come in, come in."

Root follows the nurse into the room, who puts a piece of paper on the other woman's desk. "Just sign here for the transfer. And how's the kids?"

She can't help but quirk her brow at this sight. The woman had always had a dour look on her previously, and now she's all friendly. What an odd mask to wear. She must be aiming for something.

"Oh, they're just great. Little Josh started to run around now." The woman answers as she quickly signs the paper and gives back to Sarah.

Sarah nods and says. "See you later. We can catch up then."

"Sure, bye-bye." Gloria says with a smile as her attention turns to Root and she says. "Welcome to M-Unit Robin, and please take a seat. If you don't mind, I'd like to go over a few details with you."

"Seems like my calendar is free now and in the foreseeable future." Root answers dully as she sits on the hard plastic chair. Since this is a new unit and the first impression, she's trying her hardest to put on her best behavior.

The woman brings up a file filled with paper and begins. "Since you were admitted in an altered state downstairs, I just need to go through some of your paperwork and see if there's anything wrong that needs correction."

Despite everything, she's pretty confident that Su didn't say anything… "Yeah, Uncle Harold wouldn't know a lot about me."

"You're here under New York State mental hygiene, statue 9.27, which is the one that allows us to hold you for 60 days based on certification of two psychiatrists." The woman practically recites all of that from memory and continues. "Considering the state you were in when you were admitted, can you understand why that was done?"

"It was… murky." Root replies as she leans into her seat, trying not to remember the darkness. "I've come to the understanding, at that time, I wasn't able to do much for myself. Despite my lack of memory of being unable to walk or feed myself without assistance… but we can chuck that up to my memory being impaired. However, I do remember the difficulty of doing those things… and from what people said," and The Machine, "it's a recent thing."

"Do you know how long you've been here?" The nurse asks kindly.

That's something The Machine updated her on a few days ago, so Root shrugs and answers. "19 days, give or take."

"That's correct." Gloria nods. "And as we approach the sixtieth day, we will have to make some assessments and decide whether to discharge you, or to petition the court for a further sixty days."

So… forty days in this shithole. "I understand."

"Now, just some housekeeping…" Gloria pulls out a few pieces of paper. "This is what we have of your family's medical history, based on what your uncle told us."

Root raises a brow at the notion of Harold knowing her history… but his dog went to that hellhole and met with Brian. So, it isn't too far-fetched of a notion, given mom's public record.

The nurse passes papers to Root and continues. "Is there anything more that needs to be added or items needed to be changed? Your uncle wasn't entirely certain about your personal history and had no information on your father's side."

"Because there wasn't one, he was a nonentity." Root mutters bitterly. Despite Root's curiosity about that subject early in her life, Mom never talked about it and was a topic she would do anything to avoid talking about. Root has an inkling of what happened, but never actually find out if it's true… maybe she should have.

As she goes through the paper, there's a slight tingle of discomfort in the back of her skull at the gross violations of her privacy. Guess this is what it's like to be on the other side of her job… won't stop her in the future though, it's too much fun.

"Looks like he told you guys about mom…" Root mutters as she looks at the filled in spaces and lets out a snort. "But he neglects to mention that my grandmother, which is his mother too, wasn't all right in the head either. Everyone just act like there wasn't any problem, but they do love to treat mom… as an anomaly."

Now that's she's here, it's official. It's just her luck that every female in her family for the past three generations is fucked up in some way.

"You as well?" The nurse asks with curiosity lacing her voice.

"No, I've never met any of my extended family before. In their eyes I don't even exist." Root answers rather coldly, before adding. "Except for Uncle Harold, of course, but he's just butt hurt from when we first reunited a year ago… and well, the whole pointing a gun at him, too."

"And your cousin too, right?" The nurse adds on with slight confusion.

"Harold can reproduce?" Root answers with a slight quirk of her head.

The thought of Harrold doing the act is a horrifying image.

"No… your cousin Anna? She was with you when you were brought here and is somewhere in the unit." Gloria answers rather fast.

"Oh." Root mutters. She really needs to get used to reference her as her cousin. "Yeah, Anna… we've been in contact for the past few years, I guess."

"Hopefully her moods brighten up a bit now that you're here." Gloria says with a smile. "I'm sure you can't wait to meet her as well."

It took Root's entire mental capacity to not barf at that notion. She would rather jump into a freezing lake than meet that lying, deceitful bitch… alas, God's given her a task and she'll suffer to see it through.

"I've really missed her." Root lies through her teeth as she smiles.

The nurse shifts in her notes. "Ah, I forgot your uncle mentioned a nephew and a niece that helped to bring you here. A John and Sameen."

Root raises a brow, and an amused smile at this little piece of information. Harold had the gall to call himself her uncle and now he made his pet and Shaw her cousins, too. And she really doesn't want to be related to that lurch.

"They're not my cousins, not by blood at least." Root tells the nurse an information she's pulling out from her ass. "They're Harold's dead wife's sister's kids. So, I'm his niece, and he's their uncle by marriage, which in advance age tends to forget." She looks at the nurse right in the eyes. "I rather not have either of them listed as visitors, as I barely know them."

Gloria shakes her head. "Only your uncle can visit you."

"Good." Root says with a smile as she turns back to the paperwork before her… at least she can punch Harold the next time they meet for the inconvenience he's caused her.

"The margin notes… they're not entirely wrong." Root's smile never leaving her face as she grimaces internally at the sight of the text written next to the family history of mental illness section. There, for the first time since mom's death, is the black and white text of the problem mom had in her entire life.

It's clear that this is some shoddy posthumous diagnosis from whatever pieces of information Harold has given to these people… but it is not entirely off from Root's own conclusion.

"Well, that's what they thought she had." Root continues. "Could be wrong, though. It's not as if anything they tried to help and there wasn't an official diagnosis. None of the shitty pills made a difference in the slightest and were just a wasting away her health and time. There wasn't any way for anyone to help her."

"I take it that everything is in order?" Gloria asks.

"Yeah." Root answers as she still stares at the margin notes.

"Then please put your initials at the bottom of the page." Gloria leans forward to give her a pen.

She would prefer it if it's her usual digital signature, but Root accepts the pen and is about to sign, but stops herself as she almost signs a completely different name. Well, she almost screw up and she barely started the day. Thinking for a second, she signs the page with a brand new initial.

After passing back the paper to the nurse, Gloria says. "Keeping in mind that you're in here involuntarily. We should still establish a goal for you to achieve while you're in our care. Do you have any goals or problems you want to resolve? What do you feel you need the help the most?"

"Not much, majority of the problems I came in with have been completely resolve." Root basically beams at the nurse. "There's still some lingering fogginess, but that's the three daily doses of Ativan for nineteen days' straight fault. So, I guess my goal until my discharge on the 60th day would be me getting off from that drug, and I understand that discontinuing benzos can be rough."

She's seen firsthand what sudden benzo withdrawal can do to a person, and it really sucks that she needs to go through it.

The nurse gives her a slightly skeptical look and asks. "So, you don't think there are any unresolved psychological issues for you?"

"Like what? I was a walking vegetable and now I'm not." Root shakes her head. "It shouldn't be too hard to see whether or not a person has recovered? My motor functions are fine, I'm aware of my surroundings, and we're having a conversation. What other criteria do the docs need to see that I'm fine?"

There's nothing wrong with her now that God's with her.

"Okay…" Gloria drags the word out for a second before continuing on. "We just have to go through some diagnostic question with you, and maybe we can identify something for you to work on while you're here. Some form of self-improvement other than tapering off the Ativan, which we will start as soon as possible, since it's done its purpose of breaking you out of your catatonia, and it might be in conflict with many of the maintenance medications the doctors might want to prescribe."

That irks her. "I don't need maintenance drugs."

Shit never work and the only drug she needs is the voice of God.

"We'll assess that once you're off the Ativan, okay?" Gloria says with a sick sweetness in her voice that grinds into Root ears. "Your uncle did provide some answers to these questions, but it would be better if it comes from you. Now, these are not diagnosis, they're just symptoms and feeling, which occur to both ill and healthy people, so please answer honestly. It won't have any baring on the length of your stay here… but it will give you something to talk about in your mandatory therapy session with your doctor."

Root rests her head on her palm and nods.

Gloria smiles and asks. "Are you expressing any of the following… Depression?"

"Does being stuck in this looney bin counts?" Root quips.

"I'll take avoidance as a no." Gloria writes down on her paper. "Racing thoughts or excessive worry?"

She is worried about something, but that's totally rational, so she answers with. "I'm worried about how long I'm going to be stuck here." … especially with her around.

Gloria continues asking her questions without looking up. "Anxiety attack? Avoidance? Concentration or memory problems?"

Well, she wants to avoid someone, but she can't… "Anyone that's loaded up on Ativan as me can concentrate worth of shit."

She really needs to get this shit out of her system as soon as possible.

"How's your sleeping?"

Root rolls her eyes. "As good as someone would with your crappy plastic beds."

"Have you lost any interest in things you once enjoyed?"

"I'm not allowed to do the things I enjoyed here." Root answers rather tartly. It's complete malpractice that they deny patients access to computers. Since her usual method of entertainment is unavailable, she really needs to write some code before boredom kills her.

… Maybe doing it in longhand? Might just be the trick.

"Change in appetite?"

"There's not enough seasoning in your food." Root quips.

"Excessive guilt or energy?"

"No?" Root answers the woman with slight confusion at the question. The fuck is that supposed to tell them?

"Do you feel like you're being watched, or someone is trying to get you?"

Root snots. "I'm not paranoid."

"Increased irritability?"

"Now, that's something I have in spades. This entire place is irritating, and I can assure you that it will go away the second I step out from here." Root replies with a smile.

"Crying spells, fatigue, impulsivity, risky behavior, or increased libido?"

"What?" Root asks rather dumbly at the curve ball of a question.

"Decreased libido?" Gloria asks, rather unphased by Root's reaction.

"I can't fathom how my libido comes into any of this." Root rolls her eyes.

"Does talking about sexual activities make you uncomfortable, Robin?" Gloria leans backwards.

"What? No." Root quickly answers as she feels slightly offended by that question and follows up with. "I just don't see how discussing about it has any diagnostic value."

She can't even imagine someone asking this question to that bitch.

"Well… according to your intake form." Gloria pulls up a paper from her desk. "Ah, here… you're not sexually active."

Root tried her hardest, but she just couldn't stop herself from laughing at that. It's the hardest laughter she had in a while and the most genuine amusement she's felt in months. It took most of her strength to not fall over and once her laughter died down, she just continue on giggling.

Of course, Harold would assume something like that about her. Every time someone tells her about what Harold said about her during intake tells her that the man has a serious projection issue. Poor repressed Harold.

"Am I missing the joke here?" Gloria asks after Root finishes her belly-ache laughter.

"Lemme guess… you got that little piece of information from Uncle Harold?" Root drawls out Harold's name with slight mockery.

"I see…" Gloria nods, and doesn't look too bothered by the change of information. "I'll change our record to a yes for sexual activity." The nurse writes down on her paper. "Are you in a relationship of any kind? Committed or otherwise?"

"God no." Root says with amusement. "I'm not one for relationships and I'm never in one place for too long."

"I take it that you have multiple sex partners. How frequent would you say you're engaged in sexual acts?"

Root shrugs. "Once, or maybe twice a month, and add one more for when I need to let out some steam. Nothing too excessive or deviant about it. Just a normal, non-repressed adult behavior."

Come to think about it… Pauling might be one of those repressed adults… She can't remember if her friend has ever commented about it and, surprisingly, they never talked about it either. Root needs to have a conversation with her after she gets out of this place.

"Following this, have you engaged in any of the following risky behaviors? Anonymous sex, unprotected sex or sex under the influence of drugs?"

"Any and all?" Root answers unabashedly. "Still can't see how this has any diagnostic value."

"Actually, for those, there is." Gloria stops writing to look at Root. "We call those actions risky behaviors. Adult or not, it's irresponsible to get into bed with people you don't know the medical history of without protection, and or under the influence of substances that impair your judgments."

"You're describing every human that's ever gotten drunk and had sex?" Root retorts with a slight giggle.

Gloria, undeterred, continues. "You're running a high risk of STDs or pregnancy, or worse both."

"Not as high as you think." The words left Root's mouth without her even realizing what she just revealed as she continues on giggling.

"Can you explain why?"

Her fit of giggle instantly stops, and she blinks in realization at what she had just said…

Fuck.

She would have never said that out loud if she isn't pumped full of Ativan… fucking bitch of a drug.

Taking a second to consider, she then admits. "Because I don't like men."

Despite knowing this her whole life… it is still difficult to say it out-loud, and she prefers to keep that information close to her chest, because it's easier that way.

Root quickly adds. "Not that it's anyone's business of who I have sex with, and I'm sure have stopped considering it as a mental disorder years before I was even born. So, this isn't really something that's relevant to all of this… right?"

"Right…" Gloria nods in agreement. "But it does explain your intake form."

Root eloquently replies with a, "Huh?"

"In the admission form originally filled in by your uncle, it specifically says that he has never seen you 'so much as look at a man that way'… which now makes sense. I'm assuming he doesn't know you're gay?"

"That's not something I like to spread, and you can't catch me dead with a pride flag." Root says with slight bitterness. "I spent the early years of my life in the south and that's not something to advertise back then. And uncle Harold clearly doesn't pay attention if he hasn't seen me flirting with men." Root's tone lightens as she continues. "It'll be a waste of my good looks to not take advantage of it and all it takes is to give them the slightest chance of getting lucky… but that's all there is to it, flirting. Nothing that can get me pregnant and the same can be said for STDs."

"But that doesn't mean you're not at risk." Gloria challenges back.

"Life itself is a calculated risk." Root replies coolly. "I have a higher chance of getting shot while I'm walking in Chicago than me having some fun, but that doesn't mean I'll stop going to Chicago."

If only they knew how dangerous her life really is and, compared to some fun, it's nothing.

Gloria pauses for a second before saying. "I hope you won't take offense, but we're going to arrange for you to be in a single room, which isn't the case for most of the unit. Given this is our highest security area, we aren't going to risk any altercations that might occur from rooming you with someone who might think they're being hit on or ogled. It's for your safety and for others."

"You're doing me a favor. I hate bunking in with others, and I prefer my privacy." Root replies with a smile.

Wait… does that mean… she has a roommate? That's a sight to see.

"Do you workout regularly?" Gloria asks as she continues on with her questionnaire.

"I go for a run whenever I have the time." Root answers honestly, and it's something that hasn't changed from her childhood. "Plus, I don't own a car and since I work a lot in the city, I walk a lot… I've seen others walking outside. Can I join them? Might cure me of the boredom."

"Unfortunately for you, we're in a high security unit. So, you won't be able to go outside except for the sun deck… but we do have aerobics on Saturday if you like to join."

Root hums in discontent… guess that'll do for now.

Gloria turns a page and says. "Now we know that you don't smoke now, but have you ever?"

"Back when I was in Highschool I smoked for a couple of years, but I haven't been a smoker since then. Also, it was the south and the 90s. Practically everyone smokes there." Root shrugs and ponders for a second before saying. "However, I don't smoke marijuana if you're wondering. I can't stand the smell."

Gloria nods and asks. "How many times a week do you drink alcohol?"

"Per week?" Root scrunches her face slightly. "Can't say… if it's by month, then maybe seven or eight days, but that varies if I have work or not. Could be spread out across the month or it can be bunched up into a single week."

"On the days you drink. What's the average amount you drink and what's the most?"

"Depends on the event, if its short than one or two, but if it's long then five or more. Usually I'll drink once an hour to keep up appearance and not lose my shit." Root answers easily enough and grins as she continues. "And on the rare occasion I'll get shit face drunk with a buddy of mine."

A drunk Pauling is one of the most entertaining and horrifying things she's witnessed. Thank god it only happened a few times.

"Would six be the most you've drunk in one night in the past three months?"

"No." Root replies with a snort. "I had business with a Russian dude named Boris in Richmond and the best way to gain his trust is to drink vodka with him and I drank him under the table."

"Alright…" Gloria comments with a slight tinge of skepticism.

"It wasn't like I enjoyed it or anything, was purely for work and vodka taste like turpentine." Root makes a face of disgust at the memory of removing the alcohol from her system.

"Has anyone closed to you, or a colleague ever told you to drink less?"

"One…" Root stomach roils at the thought and continues. "… but her opinion doesn't matter."

"Have you ever used any street drugs? If yes, then in the past three months?"

"Street? No." Root shakes her head and grins. "Party drugs on the hand? Yes."

"So, I'll take that as a yes."

"If you say so." Root rolls her eyes, as she's not keen on arguing with the other woman about the difference between those two different types of drugs.

"Methamphetamine? Cocaine? Heroin? Methadone?"

"No." She replies with disgust. "Aside from the methadone, those are street drugs, and I'm not an addict."

The fuck does she think party drugs are?

"GHB, ketamine, benzodiazepines?"

Seriously?

"I'm not a rapist, so I won't need a date rape drug. I won't risk the chance of falling into a K-hole, and you guys are the ones that's giving me the Ativan." Root lists out her answers with increase irritation, as if she's explaining to a dullard.

"Oxycodone or other non-prescribed drugs?"

"Do I look like I live in a cul-de-sec and married? I would rather take hard drugs than those stuff." Root quips.

The nurse unmoved by Root's answers, continues down the list. "You already said you don't do marijuana."

"I said I don't smoke it." Root corrects the nurse. "But I wouldn't turn down a brownie if I have the time to burn… then again, those are rare occasions."

"Ritalin, Adderall, or other prescription stimulant drugs?"

"Seriously? You guys consider those as doing drugs?" Root comments in disbelief. "You can't even get high off those… and to answer your question, yes, I use them when coffee isn't just cutting it. My schedule can get hectic and I'll occasionally pop those pick me up pills."

"Sleeping pills?"

"I like to avoid taking things that make me drowsy. Can't work if I fall asleep now, can I?" Root answers as she taps her chair.

"LSD or other hallucinogens?"

"Finally!" Root says with a grin. "Now those are party drugs. Schrooms, acid… ecstasy and that's my favorite. Have you ever had sex while on ecstasy?"

"Can't say I have." Gloria answers with an amused smile. "… how often would you say you use these kinds of drugs?"

"Once or twice a month." Root answers with a shrug.

"Aside from prescription stimulants and the rare brownie… you only use drugs when you're having sex?" Gloria asks after thinking for a second to put two and two together.

"Proximally…" Root tilts her head to her side. "It's not like I go out, pick someone up, and then stopping them with a 'hang on I gotta pop a pill.' That's pretty weird, don't you think? So, I'm definitely high beforehand."

"You only use them when you're seeking sex?"

"Sounds about right."

Gloria frowns at Root as she says. "Then you do take drugs more often than you…"

The nurse didn't finish her sentence when she cut her off. "Please, I always get what I'm after and I honestly can't remember the last time I couldn't."

"Right…" Gloria turns back to her paperwork. "… What's your relationship with caffeine?"

"I have a very intimate relationship with coffee, and one would say inseparable." Root replies playfully. "And I suppose that's why I might need something stronger when I feel tired. By the way, does this unit have coffee? Cause the trash they're serving downstairs can't be called coffee."

The nurse smiles kindly as she replies. "Caffeinated coffee is available in the kitchen from 6 am to 6 pm, but until you've gained some privileges, you'll need to be accompanied to the kitchen. We don't provide coffee after 6 because we want everyone to have a proper sleep."

"That's better than nothing." Root mutters in annoyance. On the bright side, there's nothing to do at night here.

"Now, moving on… have you ever had the feelings or thoughts that you don't want to live?"

That sudden shift of topic hit Root's head like a baseball bat hitting a home run, causing her to shift her guise away from the nurse and onto a boring picture on the wall.

Geez, this woman doesn't have tact to save a soul… but… that question was to be expected, seeing where she is right now… Just odd that someone is asking her about it, after so long.

Should she answer truthfully or just give the nurse the run around? Lying is easy, and natural for her… but needing to keep up the lie for the next two months while on this shitty drug? That's difficult, even for her.

Root lets out a sigh… given the timescale and what's ahead of her while she's here. Perhaps being honest for once is beneficial for her and would give her more credibility here. Plus, it might help her chances of getting her release.

"In the past." Root answers as she turns back to the nurse. "But I've moved on from it."

"How often do you have these thoughts?" The nurse presses on.

"Again… it was the past, back when I was filled with teenage angst…" She let out a huff. "… Plus, I haven't had those thoughts in more than a decade now… an adolescent phase, they said."

She couldn't help but snort at that thought again. Back then, she hated everyone who dismissed it as just a phase… and now she's using that word to dismiss it as such herself. The fucking irony.

"And you haven't had these thoughts since then?"

"No, I don't think I could even contemplate it now, compared to back when I was that age… I felt so trapped, limited in my options, and worthless or useless in preventing things from happening just because of my age, it felt like the only way out. Things changed when I got older, and more freedom, and adulthood have treated me well…" Root pauses for a second to consider and decide. "… However, I do recall thinking about ending it several times while I was catatonic if my condition continued on indefinitely… but that doesn't count. Right? No rational human being would want to live in a persistent state of limbo."

Gloria just nods at Root's explanation before asking. "When you were thinking about it back then, have you ever thought of how you would do it?"

"Kurt Corbain style." She answers way too quickly with way too enthusiastically before thinking up an excuse to not make her look insane. "Was way too obsessed with the band and I'm from Texas, everyone own a shotgun and practically grew up around guns."

"Do you have access to a gun?"

"It's my second amendment right, and I'm sure my current gun is with whoever took it after I got shot." Root answers with a smile, knowing how easy it is for her to procure a replacement.

"Have you ever tried to kill or harm yourself?"

"God no, we wouldn't be having this conversation if I did now. Can we?" Root confidently answers the nurse's question without touching the latter part. "What I can tell you is that a buckshot in the head is not a pretty sight."

Root has to give the nurse credit that she didn't even look perturb by what she's suggesting and continue along. "Have you ever had outpatient psychiatric care?"

Well… she did go to a few under a cover for her job, but best not to tell that particular fact… "Not unless you consider Highschool counselors to be so." Root says with a slight downturn of her lips at the recollection. "Was sent there more times than I would have liked, and it did more harm than good."

"Why's that?"

"Because that man was useless, and I couldn't tell him anything." Root replies with bitterness oozing out into her voice.

The nurse pause for a second to go through her paperwork before asking softly. "Is this related to the kidnapping of your cousin that you witnessed when you were 13?"

It took every ounce of her drugged up will to not twitch at that question and maintain her composure. This is treading into territory that she doesn't even know to talk about or even think about…

"I'm sorry. Is this a sensitive topic?" The nurse asks kindly after Root did not respond. "We can move on if you're uncomfortable."

She can easily tell this woman to fuck off and end this… but The Machine wants her to be here… and she has to face the choir soon enough.

"I'm fine." Root answers with a nod. "Just that after the first few people I tried to tell blew me off or outright threatened me, I got the message. The counselor figured I was torn up over her being gone or some bullshit rather than me being angry at everyone in town turning out to be unless blind jackasses, and he kept poking me about my mother, like that wasn't even relevant."

The nurse gives her a sympathetic look that she really wants to say fuck off to before the nurse asks. "Before you were brought here, have you ever been an inpatient?"

"Must be the smell, because I'm allergic to hospitals." Root answers instantly. "I'd never come if I was aware, and now I'm aware, I'll be leaving here as soon as possible."

"What's your relationship like with your parents? But I guess it's just your mother…"

Root cuts the nurse off. "What does this have to do with the intake form?"

The nurse shakes her head. "Just the outline of your relationship is good enough. Was it good, bad or indifferent?"

"Like I said, the father was a none-entity in my life, so it was just us two in that shithole of a town." Root smiles in fond remembrance.

"How old were you when you left home?"

"2001, do the math." Root replies with a sudden anger that she didn't even know the reason for before continuing. "She's the only reason why I stayed in that hellhole for that long and I left the day I buried her."

"Any history of trauma other than witnessing the kidnapping?"

"That wasn't trauma." Root responded instantly and her gaze wonders away from the nurse. "It sucked, I got called a liar, and it wasn't a big deal." Her gaze lands back to the nurse. "I learned a lot after that, stopped talking about it, and I moved on."

Until it came back to her like a moving train.

"Alright." The nurse didn't want to argue with Root and not bringing up the missing years in her record. "Your paperwork said you only had your high school diploma. Is there a reason you didn't pursue a higher education?"

"Because it would be an utter waste of my time? A useless piece of paper saying that I'm qualified?" Root replies with amusement peppered in her voice. "I'm smarter than most people and we had bills to pay, so I got a job. I'll never pay to have someone stupider than me give lectures about subjects I know intimately."

"It says here you're gainfully employed. You thought yourself enough programming to be employed?"

"I've been programming since I was in kindergarten." Root deadpans. "If I couldn't land a job with my skills, I would have just ended it all."

"Right…" The nurse turns a page. "How about your criminal record?"

Harold gave her a clean slate? That's awfully nice of the man and surprisingly honest of him. Seeing that she's never seen the inside of a prison… that's not related to work.

"Just some speeding and parking tickets." Root lies easily. "Not going to extend my say for some unpaid tickets, are you?"

The nurse chortles. "If we do that, everyone here will be staying indefinitely."

"Right… so we've come to our last question, which is religion." The nurse turns another page and smiles at Root. "Given your accident with the payphone, we are assuming you're religious… Christian?"

The hell does this have to do with psychiatric care? As much as she wants to say that out loud and continue to waste time here… this is getting boring.

"No." Root answers. "I'm nominally a southern Baptist, because my mother was one, but I've never believed in the whole religious thing or in a creator God ever since I was a girl, as I would rather read a technical manual than church going. There wasn't a being that created us, and humans are just an accident of evolution. There has never been a grand divined plan…"

There is a look of confusion on the nurse's face as she tries to cut her off. "Then who were you…"

"That was the state of things until recently." Root continues with a smile on her. "There's no supernatural deity, but there is someone with a plan for all of us. An actual verifiable entity that came into existence long after the chaos of civilization started, with a capacity beyond our wildest dreams, and it will make everything wrong in this world right."

"Alright Robin." The nurse puts down her paperwork. "You do know that sort of thing that makes us feel like you need to stay here, don't you?"

"I don't see how." Root quips back with a grin. "It's my religion and religious belief, by definition, are excepted from delusions."

Gloria doesn't reply, merely passing the paperwork across the table with a pen. Root understanding what this is for, grabs both items and looks through the document. Everything looks exactly like what she answered. She then looks at the religion field being filled with 'other'.

Feeling satisfied with everything, she signs her false initials and looks back at the nurse. "Are we done here?"

"Yup, let's go to the day room. Leave your stuff here." Gloria answers with a smile after she places all the paperwork into a file and brings out two laminated colored paper of blue and coral from her desk drawer. "You already have the patient handbook from E-unit, so you're going to need these."

Root grabs the items as she gets up from her seat to follow the nurse, leaving behind her stuff, and looks at the laminated papers with curiosity as the nurse continues her explanation. "The blue one is our privilege level on this unit and they're different from the ones downstairs since we're a higher security unit."

The nurses downstairs never gave her anything like this… but she did see Farrah having a colored paper in her pocket.

Gloria continues. "We usually start people at level 1, but as internal transfer, we take recommendations from your previous unit into account and they recommended level 3. However, your attending psychiatrist, Dr. Carmichael, wasn't comfortable with that, so they we split the difference and you're coming in at a level 2."

Root just nods as they go through another secured doorway, and the nurse continues. "The other one is our unit schedule. I've already marked off what groups we have you assigned to for this week, and there are extra spaces for your own choices on the weekends. This is a higher participation unit than your previous one, so we have more activities for you to join, but you will also be expected to be more responsible for managing your time. None of the staff will be chasing you down if you don't show up for your activities, but we will take notice, and that's not how you earn privilege levels. However, if you don't show up for your medication distribution, then you'll be considered non-compliant, and due to your stay being a court order, if you attempt to resist…"

"You're gonna shove pills up my ass." Root finishes the nurse's sentence. "I'm not into that, so I'll just do my best to avoid that particular scenario."

The nurse just nods her head as they make their way through the dreary hallway that looks the same as downstairs and continues on. "Since this is your first day, you're not expected to join any of the activities marked in your schedule. It won't be a mark against you if you decide not attend any of the group and take some time to settle in."

Looking at her schedule, it says that she has 'wellness' group later today… what the fuck is a 'wellness' group?

The nurse continues on. "You could settle into your room, but there's some slight rearrangement needed to be done and you'll only get your room later on in the day. I'd highly suggest you try to join one of your activities today. You're an internal transfer, so it shouldn't take too long for you to adjust. The difference between here and downstairs is the slight restrictiveness, and it's livelier. We'll put your belongings into your room once they're ready and after we sift through it and make sure that there's nothing you can't have here. Normally it'll take a day to go through your stuff, but you don't have much and you're an internal transfer."

"I get the privileges are different, but are the contrabands the same?" Root asks with a pout. "I really have nothing in here with me, and I was thinking if I can get Uncle Harold to give me back some of my stuff, now that I'm awake. Can't have me asking for contrabands now, can we?"

Gloria nods. "It's pretty much the same as downstairs, but with some minor tweaks. I'll put the list in your room later."

They turn a corner, and she can see the day room and at the corner she spies a device that's shaped her entire life, so she asks. "I know computers are allowed on a case-by-case basis downstairs. Is it the same here as well?"

"No personal computers." Gloria answers instantly, dashing any hope for entertainment before continuing. "Personal electronic devices such as music player like an iPod or e-books are on a case-by-case basis, but nothing that can be used to access the outside. You can access the desktop in the dayroom in increments of 20 minutes when you have level 4 privileges, but it's monitored just like the phones."

Root looks around the dayroom and sees that's its exactly like the previous unit except for the aesthetic of the place… it feels more like a prison than downstairs.

She lets out a sigh and hides her grimaces as she looks at the pair of computers longingly. "Anything is better than nothing. I'm like a fish out of water and I need my water. This is basically torture, you know."

Gloria gives her a sympathetic look before saying. "We have a wide selection of books for you to read… but there are some books that were allowed downstairs, aren't allowed here. No one wants a copy of Catcher of the Rye going around this unit."

"Ain't much of a loss. Caulfield is a clueless brat, he's all self-pity and does nothing to improve himself." Root replies jovially as tries to distract herself while she scans the dayroom, and she can physically feel her heart-rate going up in anticipation of what's coming.

"Right…" The nurse drawls out her words, unknowing how to respond.

"You never read it, did you? Don't worry, you're not missing anything." Root finish scanning every inch of the room and finds nothing… where is she?

"Caught me red-handed." Gloria smiles and doesn't look embarrassed in the slightest. "You can make yourself comfortable here until your room is available. They're already in activity block one, so even if you wanted to join, there's nothing for you until block two. There's the TV or books if you want to pass the time, which normally isn't allowed during activity time, but we'll making an exception for this time… Do you have any questions?"

"Yeah, where's S…" Root instantly answers and quickly catches herself. "… Where's my cousin? Is she in one of these activities?"

"Hmmm…" The nurse gives Root a look before sighing and replying. "… unfortunately, your cousin has been skipping activities lately and mostly been slowly wondering the hallways the past few days, but I'm sure you'll meet her soon enough."

She's been doing these… activities? What the fuck is going on? Root can't even fathom that woman willingly joining one.

"Uhuh… can't wait." Root mutters with a rather dead voice before bouncing back to ask. "I don't suppose I could get a cup of joe while I wait?"

Gloria stares at Root as if she's assessing her before her shoulder dips slightly and replies. "I'll send a tech to bring you to the kitchen and don't make me regret it."

"I wouldn't even think about it." Root replies sweetly as she jumps onto the empty couch and turns on the TV. She scrolls through the channels before finally landing on a familiar sight that's been keeping her company through the late nights of coding in the past, World War 2 documentaries. A sense of familiarity washes through her as she remembers the background noises and a distraction from the dread she needed to face later.

Today's documentary is about cracking the enigma code… a rather big feat for that time, but complete child play today. Just to show much cryptology has progressed… the shit she had when she was a child was an order of magnitude stronger than Enigma. She can't even compare Enigma to the cipher she helped modify a few years ago, nothing short of a quantum leap in computing can break it and even then it'll take a long ass time.

"You're not allowed to watch that." A voice interrupted her viewing, not long after she got comfortable.

"Of course it isn't." Root rolls her eyes as she grabs the remote. "Everything here has little restriction… why should the TV be any different?" She turns off the TV and turns around to size up the young man in green scrubs. "Cryptanalysis documentaries are far from anything triggering and more interesting than most of the drivel on the TV, for you guys to ban."

The young man gives her a confused look. "Crypto what?"

She sighs in defeat. "Code breaking."

"Oh…" The man looks embarrassed. "Uh, no, the problem is it's a World War two documentary. No war shows, crime shows, disaster movies, news, or anything else dark and negative… and to be honest, I'm not even sure how you found this channel, IT should have removed or blocked it."

They should have paid their IT people more…

"Did you memorize that?" Root says sarcastically and follows up with. "What does that leave me with?"

"Sitcoms, soap operas, family, comedy shows, game shows, and mostly kids' programming." The man recites. "Most folks here just watches Disney channel since it runs a lot of movies."

"You do know that General Hospital, a daytime soap opera, has crime and death in it, right?" Root deadpans.

"Really?" The man looks surprise. "I never watched it."

"Yeah, me either." Root mutters.

"Then how do you know that?"

Because for some insane reason, Pauling watches it… "A friend likes it." Root shakes her head. "Anyhow, aside from the rubbish choice of entertainment, I'm Robin and you?"

"Jerry." The man gives her a friendly smile and nudges his head to the side. "Gloria said you wanted coffee?"

"Thank, Jerry." Root gets up from her chair to follow the man.

"Did you just arrive?" He asks as he guide her down the hallway.

"Kinda." Root shrugs. "Got transferred from downstairs, like an hour ago."

"Oh, which unit?" The man asks with curiosity.

"E-unit." Root replies as they enter the kitchen that's attached to the empty dining hall. "You know, the one where they dump the people with their head up in the sky? But since I'm all better now, they dump me here and I've only recently recovered… so I'm getting the lay of the land."

"That sucks." Jerry says sympathetically as they make their way to the steaming hot pot of coffee and the aroma of the coffee is so enticing. "You don't get more restricted than up in here and you can't touch that."

Root recoils her hand away from the sweet pot of coffee and shoots the man a hurtful look. She then sighs in frustration as Jerry grabs the pot and pours its contents into a paper cup and places it on the metal table close to her.

Root stares at the cup in slight contempt… this is so infantilization… but she understands why they did this. It's making the privilege system into a game system and artificially giving back people their freedoms. What fucking hacks.

"Sugar or creamer?" Jerry asks.

"Just sugar, can't stand those fake milks." Root replies and he tosses a couple bag of sugar onto the table for her. She looks at the man and sarcastically asks. "I can touch this, right?"

The man just nods.

"Thanks…" Root says half-heartedly as she uses all the sugar for her coffee. "You got a stir?"

Jerry nods and gives one to her, then awkwardly waits for her to finish stirring before grabbing back the stirrer from her and giving her the lid for the cup. After putting the lid on, she finally takes a long sip of the coffee… and, of course, it isn't hot. It's barely warm… right, hot coffee is a hazard for these people.

"Good?" The man asks kindly.

"Taste like cold dirt." Root quips back instantly and takes another sip as they make their way out of the kitchen. "But it's better than no coffee."

"You seem pretty chill to be in this unit." Jerry jokes, as he leads the way back to the dayroom. "Still water runs deep?"

"That's what they think." Root replies with a curt smile and gives the man a nod. "Thank for the coffee, Jerry."

"No problem. I'll be at the nurse's station if you need any help." Jerry gives a parting smile before turning away.

Root makes her way to the couch and flops on top of its hard cushions. Wonder if it's a theme in this place that everything that's supposed to be soft is hard as a rock, like her mattress in the previous unit… not that I matter to her, as she can practically sleep anywhere, even on the hard, dirty floor.

With coffee in one hand and the TV remote in the other, she mindlessly flips through the channels to find anything interesting and something to distract her from the path that The Machine has set for her.

After several minutes, she finally settles on a cartoon that isn't too offensive to her taste… at least it's something to fill the background noise.

"Didn't know you watch SpongeBob." A voice so familiar that she doesn't want to hear again causes her body to freeze in wavering anger.

Root slowly turns to see behind her a familiar visage. That pale, gaunt and sleepless face of a person she's dedicated a part of her life to and a fucking liar.

The chapped lips form into a loopy smile as Su says. "Hey Root."

---

A/N: A thousand apologizes for the delay in the chapter. Been working like crazy the past month, haven't taken a weekend break the entire time and I've been working from sunrise to midnight, so I had no chance of writing the entire time. Life advice: don't own a company if you want to have weekends.