Tic Tock Goes the Clock (Doc-Invite)

[Doc]

"--The following transcript was a live chat roleplay--"

Doc: Yea.. a thick layer of topical ointment.

Zodiac: *nods and deftly plucks a sliver of bone out and shows him*

Doc: Fine wrap it.. *through clenched teeth*

Zodiac: I will see what I can do first *combs his hair away to give her a full view* I am no professional such as your self, but I try my best

Doc: *submits to her ministrations*

Zodiac: *checks closely, sees no bone fragments stuck in his head. lays a thick layer of antibiotics into the slice*

Doc: *he smirks, even though it makes him wince* You know.. you saved my .. *painful smirk* life.. I'm in your debt.. so I have to follow you everywhere.. to protect you...

Zodiac: *looks at him. flushes a bit of color in her cheeks* thank you for the thought, sir. but I could nor would I expect you to do such a thing.

Doc: You have no say in the matter..

Zodiac: now you sound like others I know *laughs softly as she pulls a straight razor from her cleavage and begins to clean it*

Doc: "In a unique way I hope.. " Slowly cause the blood loss is slowing him down "cause I would ******* hate to one of a crowd"

Zodiac: quite so *carefully saves a bit of his hair away around the edges. * I should be able to put a small patch there. can comb your hair over it. only way someone will see is if you bend over and let them see the top of your head

Zodiac: You need to see a necromancer next. That is a power I have not yet learned

Doc: "Yes.. I will give Cat a call.."

Zodiac: Good *combs his hair back in place-looks at him from a couple angles* not too shabby

Doc: Yea. *****.. I know I am ******* **** looking

Zodiac: **** looking, perhaps. but cut up beyond what a normal person could endure? no. You were accosted in an alley or something?

Doc: 'Walked into an apartment trapped to hell.. hit with some darts.. and bear trap.. She must have hit me when I was disarming them.."

Zodiac: That's what I would have done *starts putting her things away* Someone bigger, possibly stronger than me? Get a couple free shots in while they distracted

Doc: Yea.. women are all the same.. *sullenly* Thank you.. though for that patch job.. I have go to the hospital now.

Zodiac: *inclines her head* be more careful, doctor. blessings on you

Doc: *nods once, very slowly* You too. *stands and heads to the exit, pauses and turned back* the following you.. protecting you.. not gonna ******* happen until a certain paladin is dead.

[Doc]

Doc arrived at the hospital in fresh clothes, bound wounds, a plastered head. He checked in immediately on the location and condition of Minx. Even though the EMS said she was lucky to be alive, there was always the chance of an embolism. They tended to strike in conditions like hers with little or no warning. However, he was told she was still on operating theater three, and it looked as though she would be there a while.

Doc gave the staff a suitably grim look at the prognosis, but inside he grinning as he knew the longer she was in the operating theater, the more chances of complications arose. And it just took one nicked artery or embolism and she was a goner. He could always hope.

He turned his attention to Form 1 also known as the application for psychiatric assessment, that he was filling out on one, Dominique Doe. Form 1 allowed a physician to hold someone for up to 72 hours on for psychiatric assessment. This means the person to be held at a psychiatric facility for assessment, but does not itself permit any treatment without the person’s consent.

He read the form:

Does the Physician have reasonable cause to believe that the person:

• (a) has threatened or attempted or is threatening or attempting to cause bodily harm to himself or herself;
  (b) has behaved or is behaving violently towards another person or has caused or is causing another person to fear bodily harm from him or her; or
  (c) has shown or is showing a lack of competence to care for himself or herself

Doc checked both (a) and (b) and referenced the police report as proof.

In addition, is the physician of the opinion that the person is apparently suffering from mental disorder of a nature or quality that likely will result in:

• (d) serious bodily harm to the person;
  (e) serious bodily harm to another person; or
  (f) serious physical impairment of the person,

Doc check both (d) and (e) and referenced Dominique’s delusion that the attending physician was a vampire, and that she also believed she was sent to wipe them out.

He completed the rest of the form, and then attached a copy of the police report along with photographs of her apartment laden with traps in almost every square inch. Doc couldn't help but smirk. In her thirst for killing, she had done a number on herself. The photos of her apartment alone, would keep her locked up past the 72 hour benchmark. Normally he would need a Form 3 and another doctor’s consent. But as he stood there dutifully filling out the required paperwork, at the nurses station, wounded with dressings and bandages visible, a colleague came by and clapped him on his good shoulder.

“Heard what happened old man.. You never struck me as the altruistic type. And the one time you go out of your way to do the right thing.. damn. She could have killed you.” The colleague said.

Doc nodded solemnly in agreement, “She near did.”

The colleague gave him a wink, “Think I know why you ‘tried’.. Hot little number that. And that was all cut up, I can only imagine what those hips could do in prime condition.”

Doc didn’t reply just gave a slight closed mouth smile, and a look of sheepish guilt.

“I knew it.. “ the colleague laughed and slapped down a form 3, Indeterminate Hold Form. “I filled this out for you. Rest easy Vlad..” The colleague thought his joke was hysterical, “Dominique the Vampire Slayer won’t get you…”

Doc just nodded, the passive smile still pinned to his face, as the colleague wandered off to chase after a RN that saw him and did an immediate about face, hoping she should could get gone before she was caught. She wasn’t so lucky.

Making a copy of the Form 3, Doc stuck one in the file and one in his jacket, just in case. Paperwork done. Minx successfully imprisoned for 72+ hours, he headed back to the apartment, to see if Cat would heal him.

When Doc entered, Cat looked up, her eyes widened, she moved toward him and reached out to touch him. She had been apprised of the situation, and was ready. After some minutes of her assistance, he was finally starting to feel a little bit better. He sat down tiredly on the couch, followed by Cat who continued to stare pointedly at him.

--The following transcript was a live chat roleplay--

Catherine Nilson: *staring at him*

Doc: *stares back*

Catherine Nilson: That paladin fucked you up, *she informs him as if he hadn't already known and experienced that.*

Doc: "Do you think I don't fuckin' know that already? And just so you know.. she is fucked up even more."

Catherine Nilson: She raises an eyebrow at his smug expression. "She is?"

Doc: "**** yes.. "

Catherine Nilson: "Why didn't you kill her, then?"

Doc: "******* neighbors came.. so I had to improvise.."

Catherine Nilson: Cat seems satisfied with this explanation and nods, then goes back to her scribblings in her journal.

[Dominique]

Doc returned to the Hospital just after sundown. He headed straight to the Hospital’s lock down unit. Checking in at the entrance to the Secure Unit, he checked the status of the patients being held. He saw that Minx had gotten out of surgery and was marked as stable. Passing through several metal detectors and a series of redundant locking doors, he found and then stood outside her unit. The door to her unit was a hefty metal door, with a small fifteen by fifteen centimeter window. He peered in through the small window. Her unit was a twelve by twelve room, bare walls painted in a soothing shade of pale yellow, with a toilet and chair as the only items to break the stark emptiness of the room apart from the patient herself.

Minx lay restrained on wheelable stainless steel gurney, with only a thin pad and crisp white sheet for comfort. Doc’s lips curved ever so slightly at the sight of her. He knew that once she regain full consciousness the reality of her situation would sink in. He didn’t want to miss that pivotal moment. However, for the moment, it suited his purposes to have her only semi lucid. Judging from her lethargic movements, he surmised that she was away, though highly drugged up.

Stepping back from the door, motioning to the orderly, Doc indicated he was ready to go in. The orderly noted and then confiscated a metal pen out of Doc’s lab coat breast pocket, “You can have this back, when you get out.” His voice was flat and no nonsense. Doctor or not, he was not going to be allowed in with any contraband items. The orderly unlocked the door, opened it, allowed Doc in, then shut it hard and locked it behind him. The orderly saluted Doc through window, then headed back to his station, he had paperwork to complete.

Doc collected the lone chair in the bare chilly room and moved it beside the bed. He took his time before he sat, he would need to note everything in the chart after he left. He wanted his notes as accurate as possible. He eventually sat beside her. He relaxed casually back in the chair as one would do at a garden party or some other casual social event. He sighed in satisfaction and savored the sight of her restrained against her will in this cold desolate room.

Yet time was ticking, the orderly would return in about fifteen minutes give or take, he needed to begin his examination. Doc leaned forward, and idly lifted one of her eyelids to check her pupil reactions. He looked at her eyes carefully. The miosis of her eyes told the story all on their own. The thorazine and haldol had made her compliant and unresisting. He smirked crookedly.

Dominique felt the dryness of the muscle in her mouth that lifted and nearly felt velcroed to the sticky roof within her lips and above its flicking mass. Her gums were crisp like paper and her teeth tingled when she inhaled to work some semblance and order back into her mouth. It was spirited, fiery and that was always getting her in trouble. Or was it?

Now she heard various tones of chiming bells and then the shrill static of white noise. As he got closer silence was so loud it shattered everything else and her eyes strained to focus on him. She was a mess for his obvious pleasure or ego...perhaps he was finally going to do it. Pop that proverbial balloon of anticipation and blow her brains out? The next ***** in a uniform to come in with a needle was going to be her target. She needed to gain possession of a needle then she just needed him to come a little closer. She needed to feel the satisfaction of popping him first. Like a cerebral rush of an addict with an itch that couldn’t quite be reached she needed to feel it. Just once or maybe twice. Who was she kidding?

“As your, attending physician, it is my duty to check on the status of your wounds. And note the progress in your chart.” His voice devoid of any emotion. He stood, moved the chair back against the wall, then returned to stand by her side, he leaned over her, to stare directly into her eyes. “You understand, don’t you Minx?” This time his voice was a taunting whisper. Her dilated pupils showed little reaction to his words. “I thought you would, good girl.” His tone was patronizing and cold, punctuated by the brief sound of metal on metal.

**** him. That’s right. Her mind purred. ****. Him. So few times she had really listened to his voice like she had no choice but this time she did. Right there at that moment she listened. Minx. Oh yes, Minx. Such a way that came out. She was about to ask ‘What’s up Doc?’ when an itch set in across her nose. She bargained in her mind that if she tried hard enough she could itch it with the air around her. So sterile and cold it was. Just like him. It felt like it had fingers. Thousands of them. They were all over her dancing a silken insomniatic tango across her bare flesh beneath the hospital gown. All those fingers and they stayed lower. Her nose was up so much higher than that. Too woozy to make the fingers move upward she indulged in the path they took instead.

Doc ran his fingertips slowly down the wounds on her arms, almost caressing the healing slashes. He whispered in her ear, “Healing so quickly.. impressive… but are they... ‘all’... healing so well?” Doc’s hand slowly slid the cotton gown up to expose the wound on her belly. Again his fingers danced across the wound that had been so recently stapled shut. “How is the sensation there? Do you feel it?”

All of it was not real. This was just a deluded reality within some dream but none of this could truly be taking place. Or could it? Perhaps it was because she could swear she felt it and she held her breath to make sure. It burned so badly that, yes, she felt it. It was there. Was it real?

His eyes stared unflinchingly into hers, “And this... do you feel this? And this?” He paused, “Do you remember,.. when we first met,.. so many months ago?” A pause, “I warned you then,.. to leave this city. You didn’t listen.” A pause, then his mouth was by her ear, soft puffs of air tickling her as he whispered, “You said you could handle it.” A pause. His eyes moved back to hers, “You challenged me. Who is winning?” Another pause. “Because I.., could do this,.. all.., night.., long.”

"Are you mad that I didn't leave or are you really glad that I didn’t take the doctors advice and stayed?" She could hear the sounds of skin on skin and clinking of cold steel. Now where was he taking her? Would it hurt even more than this? Or feel even better? “I never do as I am told. Ask me to stop moving. I bet you don’t want to.”

Dominique inhaled deep and was increasingly numb to the fact she should be embarrassed at the groan that suddenly escaped her. Her fingers writhed beneath the restraints at her wrists and legs. Her dark eyes play against her by giving her brief blips of clarifying vision. There he was. So close. Much too close. Or was he?

The coolness of his skin moved smooth and sadistic with the rhythm of his words against her ear. It was cruel and it was wrong. She could see him so close from the corner of her eye then gone he was as was the ability to see what was there. Damned if she didn’t feel it. Once more to the weakening cloudy pools of effects of the narcotic cocktails he was generously pushing into her via Nurse ***** and Orderly Dick washed over her. A roll of her eyes back into those euphoric induced lids was all it took and they pinned her in their foggy hold once again.

The woman’s body was strapped down flat to the exam table she had been transferred to. The air was cool and left her covered by goosebumps vivid to the naked eyes. It could have been the numerous meds she knew were being pushed into her veins like some lab rat in the sick mans cage of mind **** he had created. However as she swam on the unpredictable surface of fragile lucidity she was not going to break. She vowed to hold on but there was something happening at that moment that had her questioning her resolve. Was that what she thought it was? He was enjoying this and if her body didn’t betray her, as it was likely quite evident, the truth would only be hers to know.

"Something tells me its the latter. I can feel it." A catch of her breath left the last word hitched as if it was dangling on something unseen, known only to the walls within the room she was kept in as something broke free and cruelly rained down over all that was not supposed to be.

“So glad you can,.. because, I wouldn’t want,.. to be the only one,.. that felt it.” The words whispered huskily in her ear. “Though I may be the only one,.. to remember it..” He drew in her scent, and “So warm…”

"How could I not?" She should turn away but to where? His eyes could burn right through her if she let them. Her breath was ragged, her lips so dry as she tried to lick them to relief. “I still feel it everywhere.”

“And you will again.. bank on it.”

Dominique couldn’t change what was the truth. It was now seeping into every layer of her skin. He warned her, she defied it. He did again, she refused to acknowledge it. He tried to stop her but she put up walls. She said never and he said yes. Now there she was confined, stilled to one spot at the point of reckoning and he was tearing those walls she kept hidden and impenetrable all to hell. Over and over and over he didn’t hold back and came at her and...she was liking it. It empowered her and strengthened her resolve to push back even more, to not give in and to show him he just opened a pandora box unlike anything he ever imagined. He wanted a challenge. He just put himself hook line and sinker eyeballs deep into one.

He pulled back to look at her abdomen, “Oh dear…” He looked at her passively, “You’ve torn a suture. I’ll have to stitch that up.” He winked, “Have you back to original, in no time..”

“Some things are never the same again.” Her lips were slow moving and heavy while her forehead was misting with perspiration.

“I did try to warn you.. “ His voice almost seductive as his hand carefully worked on fixing the tear. “However, there are some aspects, such as these type moments with you,... “ the words soft, “..that I have enjoyed.”

Who turned up the furnace? The heat of what took over her body sent it into the smallest spasms that made everything feel so much better. It was him. He gave her a shot of something on the inside. Did he or didn’t he? Goddamn opiates were ******* with her.

Dominique’s cheeks were hot with pain, the torment of the unthinkable and the confirmation that she was not going anywhere. The point of no return was lost somewhere within her and that was a whole other storm brewing to be something unlike either of them could have planned. The wound he tormented at her belly was nothing compared to the fire deep within. It fueled her as she looked at him winking so satisfied and smug about the state she was in. She would hold his eyes...literally. Time is all she needed to make that happen. Was there enough left?

(Written jointly by Doc & Dominique players)

[Doc]

Doc stood coolly looking down at Minx for another 5 minutes. She was flushed and uncomfortable, but she was still too defiant. His lips curved into an almost indiscernible smirk. He intended to break her. He would break her will, break her confidence, break that stubborn streak, and then he would destroy that paladin, once and for all. She would be begging to be put down, begging to have the torment that will be her life to cease.

As he stared at her, the plan formulated in his mind. Bit by bit he would strip something away from her. Anything she found comfort in, he would take away and destroy. It wouldn't be fast. It wouldn't have the impact he wanted it to have, if it was over too quickly. He wanted to see her slowly fall apart. To see her coming apart at the seams. To have her fall into a permanent state of utter and total despair. Then, and only then, would Doc end it.

Doc lifted an eyebrow, as a fleeting thought crossed his mind. Wouldn't it be poetic justice if he could play it just right.. maneuver her just so.. pull the strings just enough, to make her come to him.. and beg for that eternal blackness? The subtle smile, turned into a full fledged toothy grin. As he finally turned to leave, he ran the back of his index finger along her cheek. “I must go Minx.. try not to miss me…”

Approaching the door, Doc schooled his face to reflect a look of passive boredom. He rapped on the door and waited for the orderly to come and let him out. Once the door was opened, he exited and headed to the Unit nurse’s station. At the station, he pulled Dominique Doe’s chart and started reading it. The RN was also at the station, making notes in various patients’ charts.

Doc snapped his fingers at the at the orderly, “Pen.” and then held out his hand. Once reunited with his pen, he started writing orders in Minx’ chart. He spoke to the RN, while he wrote. “I am amending the medication for Ms. Doe. Continue the Haldol and the Thorazine. Discontinue all opiates.” He dryly said, as though ordering ‘coffee, black’.

The RN’s head snapped up, “No opiates.. at all?”

Doc straightened and looked at the RN pointedly. His gaze determined, he explained, his words dropping like ice, “It is contraindicated.”

The RN swallowed, her gaze wavering, “But she just had surgery.”

“Then I am sure she will be happy to be medically subdued.” He lifted an eyebrow arrogantly, as he waited for her to object. He would shred her.

“Yes Doctor. No opiates.” the RN, for her credit, ventured, “Tylenol?” her voice hesitant.

Doc returned his attention to the chart, his point was made, his tone returned to the bored dry as dust voice, “Motrin, 800 mg. as needed.” he wrote his notes in the charts, updated the med chart, and confirmed that Patient Doe should remain on a clear liquid diet. His pen paused, as he pondered how to broach the speed with which she was healing. If he said nothing it would be an obvious oversight. But if he drew too much attention to it, it could gain too much undue attention. It was a tricky situation. In the end he went with a short direct sentence, that he hoped would be glossed over and then forgotten. “Patient is healing exceptionally well.”

The orderly looked at Doc, “Hospital Standards say we can’t leave her restrained more than 24 hours.” he left the statement hanging with the silent unasked question.

Doc snapped the chart shut and looked at him. “To be accurate, hospital standards say that patients should not be restrained for more than 24 hours, unless it is ‘to ensure the physical safety of the individual or others; and is subject to a written order by a physician or other licensed practitioner..’” Doc put the chart away and then finally looked at the orderly, “Perhaps you would enjoy being on the receiving end of a wound like this?” He gestured briefly to his head, which still carried a bandage.

The RN’s eyes got wide, “That little thing did that?” The charts she had access to, didn't have the gory details of what landed Patient Doe in the locked unit, due to confidentiality and HIPPA laws.

Doc inclined his head, “Indeed. As well as having rigged her apartment to blow.” he said succinctly. “Do not let her size fool you.” He looked at the orderly and the nurse, “I will return tomorrow..”

[Dominique]

So tired. So ******* tired. Dominique was one blink away from hell being unleashed. Big brown eyes that could haunt anyone who dared to stare too deeply into them were now framed in red brought on by self-induced insomnia. Dry and sunken in those masses certainly were. It was as if there were pits behind them that if given long enough they would recede into and never surface again. A miracle of tears formed in protest and perhaps denial. Their lids closed slowly as if the weight of them was far more than she could ever manage to lift again on her own.

The paladin fought many battles and now it was the effects of the pain that wracked her body that she was losing to. She bargained herself out on each and every wound. If she embraced the pain and considered it her own she could be one with it and turn it into anything but what it was…which was cold, calculating torture. The set back was inevitable and those doe eyes faded behind the closing of their ghostly pale lids. Sweet Jane was slipping away to the last place she ever wanted to go. Dream land had a side door and she fell through the cracks and found herself treading through a nightmare instead..

“Now I lay me down to sleep…” The voice was so soothing, so sweet. “Can you repeat that with me, Jane?”

Little hands that still were protected by the soft flesh of childhood folded together as much as they possibly could and held tight. Big wide eyes looked up as the tiny dimples peeked at each corner of the four year olds cheeks when a smile revealed a missing tooth. The purest black strands of baby fine silken hair bounced as the cherub-like face nodded.

“But I don’t wanna go to sleep, Gramma. I want to stay awake.” The pudgy innocent hands unfolded and disappeared behind her back with a giggle.
“Jane…you are going to sleep. I mean it.” The woman who was left to care for the handful in Jane Dominique Doe sighed. “There is no choice. You will go to sleep. Now we can pray together before you do so that you are safe and in God’s hands. Again, Now I lay me down to sleep. Say it Jane.” The voice trailed off almost as if the source was disappearing as the words came out. “Jane…”

“JANE!” The darkest roar in warning she had ever heard jolted her to act immediately at the command. “RUN!”

In the compromised and fatigued mind, Dominique ran like she had nothing left to lose. In reality her body was still pinned down to the hospital bed. Her limbs twitched and tugged at the restraints while her eyelids stayed cemented down. Her head quickly flipped to the left and her breathing changed to slow deep respirations. She was running like her life depended on it and for good reason. Barefoot and only in the hospital gown she was permitted the woman cleared the distance of the long hall and reached a dead end in the dark. Instead of a wall greeting her body as it attempted to backpedal to avoid the black void that waited for her the shadow of the man who put her there stood. She crawled backwards until he started moving and coming straight for her.

Dominique flipped over and fell on all fours clawing her fingers at the tile and got back up. She tried to scream but nothing came out of her mouth. Again she ran with all the strength she had and was blindsided by a heavy door slamming her so hard that she shot back and slid across the floor. Hands cold as ice came out of the ceiling so fast she could barely raise her hands at an attempt of defense. A string of round beads coiled around her neck and began tightening. She flailed and gasped as her fingers clawed at her own neck for air.

"Pray for forgiveness, Jane. Its the only thing that will truly save you now." The hands around her neck were slick with something warm and alarming. She brought one of her own up and saw blood. It returned and yanked at one of those gripping her neck as well as the makeshift tourniquet. The hand let go and rosary beads splintered in a series of pings and bouncing around her. Her grandmothers hands and rosary beads fell from her and she cried out.

“God! Please…” She got back up again and ran for the light shining from the only open door in the hall of countless others.

“Dominique…” The voice called to her from the light. “Come here.”

With the last of the energy she had her body rounded the corner through the doorway. The nurse that was so nice to her was waiting in the wall to wall stainless steel. She squinted as she walked inside. Her eyes were so parched. She felt guilt set in for being out of bed and struggled in her sleep deprived head for an excuse that made sense.

“I was being chased by a monster.” She felt the cold truth of her lie step out of the void behind her.

“Minx…”

The hard jolting shake of hands on her arms rattled her pinned body over and over. It hurt every spot she could think of having feeling and she screamed for them to stop. No one was listening and it wasn’t stopping. A sharp slap to her face and her eyes popped open. Above her was Nurse *****. She was never more relieved.

“He is going to kill me! I need to get the **** out of here. Please, you have to help me.” She was crying, her face wearing the mask of fear. “I’m begging you.”
“You need to sleep, Dominique.” She showed now emotion towards the patient beneath her. “Instead of fighting it you should be receptive to the help you are getting.”
“Go to hell!” She hissed back, her eyes venomous in their brown and red glare.
“Perhaps you created the one you are living right now, hmm?” The sounds of the nursing shoes on tile faded as the lights went out in the room. The sound of a door closing tight and locking was all that was left.

“Now I lay me down to sleep…” A whisper in the dark broke the silence.

[Doc]

Powers. Every Vampire had a set of powers that came more or less naturally to them. Doc ******* hated his natural ‘set’ of powers. Yes, he could glide over water, but honestly, how often do you need that ****? And Cat called him ‘Vampire Jesus’; that alone make it a **** power. However he did have one power that he loved. The one that let him enter any place he wanted, locked or unlocked, invited or not. And he used it, right now to slip past the Police tape that secured Minx’ apartment.

With Minx securely locked up and restrained to a gurney in the hospital, now was the perfect time to go have a thorough perusal of her abode. As Doc coalesced inside her apartment in West Towers, he couldn’t help but smirk. The police had really done a number on this place. There was black finger print dust was everywhere. The only items that remained in the living area was chair and some splintered wood. Apparently the police felt that her kitchen table had posed a threat, so it too was confiscated.

His smirk because a full blown grin as he looked through the kitchenette . The cops had rightly taken the butcher block knife set, but they hadn’t stopped there. They had collected all her flatware, except for three spoons, which Doc summarily pocketed. There was a saucepan on the stove top. He picked it up and looked at it. There was a hole in it. He surmised it was a victim of one of the dart traps he had triggered by sidestepped at the last minute. He put it back. Checking all the drawers in the kitchenette, he found some black garbage bags. An idea formed.

Doc took some of the bags, and started putting anything of any use, or sentimental value into the bags. In his mind’s eye, he pictured Minx face when she finally made it back to her ‘home’ and she found nothing but a dust blackened hull of nothing. Granted, he never intends for her to see this place again, but that was the thing about plans.. you always needed an alternative. A backup or two. And even if she never saw this place again, he knew. And that’s all that mattered.

Whistling a tune by the Animals, Doc made his way into the bedroom, where drawers of clothes were emptied into the black bags. He paused as he reached the nightstand. A journal and a set of keys laid there. He was surprised the cops hadn’t collected them. But no matter, they were now his. He even shoved the bed pillows into the bag, and in doing so, he found them. A beautiful set of rosary beads. He picked them up and looked them over, they were quality. Something that a street kid like Minx, shouldn’t have or even want.. unless…

The beads slid through his fingers, with delicate substance. The weight and feel of them, told you they were meant to be held and carried. The findings were silver, but there was no tarnish on them, as though they were regularly handled. And handled so much so, that the tarnish was worn off as soon as it appeared. This told him, and told him quite clearly, Minx was Catholic. This tiny almost insignificant piece of information, made this trip worthwhile. What had been a jaunt to assuage his curiosity and to **** with her head a bit, had just blossomed into a gift that would just, keep, giving.

Almost reluctantly, Doc slipped the beads into his pocket with the spoons. He collected the bags, left the apartment and headed down to the parking level. He looked at the keys. They bore a Ford emblem from the 60’s or 70’s. His eyes scanned the deck for a Ford from that time period. His gaze stopped on a 1968 candy apple red Mustang. He moved toward the car, and took in it’s beauty. “Oh you have -got- to be ******* kidding me.. please let these keys work…” He put the key in the driver side door lock and grinned openly, when the key turned. “I will give you this Minx.. you have fine taste in cars…damn fine.”

He threw the bags into the passenger seat, and headed for the Hospital. It was almost time for his ‘appointment’ with Minx, but he decided to take the long way. Doc liked this car. When he had first discovered the keys, he was merely going to drive it and leave it parked at the hospital. But now.. having driven it, and felt the raw power that surged under that hood. Hell if he was going to leave this baby behind. **** no. This was his.

------

An hour later found Doc having exited his office at the hospital, as he shrugged into his lab coat. He had taken the bags of Minx’ possessions and disposed of them in the hospital’s incinerator. The only items he kept were her journal, the rosary beads and a box of trinkets. Everything else was currently burned beyond recognition.

He strode down the hall intent on making his appointment with Minx, when a voice hailed him from behind. “Charles.. whoa.. wait up.. wait up..”

Dr. Michael Porter ran up to him and then matched his stride, “Glad I caught you..” He nodded to one of the female office staff that passed them before he continued, “I checked in on your Patient Doe… Hope you don’t mind. You’re weren’t here..and Administration was bitching for an update.. “ He slid a glance at Doc, “You running late?” He pointedly looked at his watch, “Jesus man.. its nearly 7pm.. Just now getting here? What the hell? Keeping bankers hours now?”

Doc was irked. No.. he was angry, but he didn’t allow it to show as he passively regarded Porter. “I am under doctor’s order to take it easy remember?” absently gestures to his head. “Woke up with a ******* headache.. courtesy of Patient Doe, if you will recall.”

Porter nodded, “Yea yea.. you just never struck me as the type to actually listen to your doctor.. I know I sure as hell don’t.. wants me to stop drinking.. yea that's not gonna happen.“ he chuckled. “But seriously, is patient Doe on one of your drug trials? Her rate of healing is phenomenal! I have never seen anything like it!”

Doc stopped walking. ****. He knew this might be an issue, but he was somewhat prepared. “I noted the same thing, I believe I mentioned it in my notes.. I was actually, going to ask you about your trials or maybe Wilson’s.. because all of mine have ended.”

Porter shook his head, “No Wilson’s is all Alzheimer's related; and mine are Cancer.. and we couldn’t use her if we wanted to. Too many tats.. our protocols state that all test subjects have to have full pet scans and MRI’s. Her tats would give wonky MRI results and throw the whole trial into the dumper.

Doc nodded slowly, “Right. So.. what would account for this? Granted I haven’t seen her yet. But your thoughts, before I go see her?”

“Man.. I have no idea.. -but- if it’s natural…” He leaned forward, “I say we get some blood samples and tissue biopsies, and run some tests. She could make us millions if we can re-sequence the genes synthetically.” Porter intoned quietly. “She’s a head case ..who is going to miss her?”

Doc grinned his lopsided closed mouth smile, “I think you might be on to something Porter.”

Porter nodded like he knew he was the ****. “Yea..” He glanced up and down the halls, “So really.. how did you meet her? I read that **** in the report.”

Doc feigned wounded surprise. “It was the truth.”

“******** Charles.. the bit about her attacking you.. yea.. But her ‘family’ asking you to check in on her…? Come on.. I wasn’t born yesterday. How do you know her?”

The idea formed in milliseconds, Doc’s eyes twinkled evilly, a look not missed by Porter who leaned in for details.

“Fairgrounds.. “ Doc feigned a smug knowing look and nodded, as if to silent say, Yes she was good.. very good.

Porter shook his head, “I never pictured you as the get down and dirty sort, you dog!” He glanced down the hallways again, “I want to meet her.” His voice intense.

“She is still heavily sedated..”

“Not NOW.. I mean.. when shes .. ‘well’, if you know what I mean..” Porter widened his eyes and intimated silently.

Doc pressed his lips together and nodded, “I think that can be arranged. After all, you were the second authorizing signature.. yes?”

Porter snapped his fingers, “Right! Yes I was! I will need to .. interview her.. “ He too nodded. “To substantiate her continued confinement.” he grinned, “And give us time to gets some tests done.”

“Indeed. Now, if you will excuse me.. Patient Doe awaits my pleasure..” Doc nodded, and continued on to the locked unit.

----

Fifteen minutes later Doc stood over the restrained patient Doe, in her barren locked cell of a room. His hands were shoved in the pockets of his lab coat as he stared at her. His hand moved to carefully smooth back a lock of his hair that had fallen forward. The movement of his hand caused a crucifix to peek over the top of his pocket.

Doc smiled his cold impersonal smile, as he finally spoke to her. “And how are we doing this evening Ms. Doe?”

[Dominique]

The room that Dominique was confined to was proof that one space could be too much with so little within it. Too sterile. Too quiet. Too cold. Too restrained. All of it was slowly enveloping the woman and was far more proof that this was all too real. No movement of air, no voices, no stimulus and no windows. There was no way to tell if it was night or day. The room was literally void of any traces of anything significant or revealing that an outside world even existed. It was cruel in its neutral design. No pictures of scenery to beckon someone when their mind tried to curl up and fold in on itself in surrender. There were no signs with letters to rearrange into other words besides the original message they were meant to form. It was a place that left one alone with their mind in the most unforgiving way.

It was cold. So cold that she couldn’t remember what it was like to be warm. Only one thing influenced that kind of chill that wormed its way sadistically through a body. Fear. Her body shivered in various spots beneath the sheet. She blamed it on the meds because acknowledging it was her own fear working on her would be admitting defeat even if it was in her only in her own mind. Again, that was the sobering reality coming into play. Her mind was what she was left with. Nothing more than that.

The room was soundproof. The silence was nearly deafening. Unless the door was unlocking she could hear nothing except the sound of her own heartbeat and the slow repetitions of her respirations. Those were her only companions now. Even the voices in her head seemed to have abandoned her yet again. The place and the situation was that bad. Even her past was fading from her grasp. This was all so far from where she should be physically, mentally and emotionally. Was that part of his plan?

What was in physical contact with her was of no use. No warmed blankets or attentive staff. The hospital linen beneath her was too crisp and didn’t fall around the shape of her body. There was no comfort to be found in the material that should be the one thing she could connect to and drawn some sort of relief from. Even if it was something so important yet simple and natural as her own body heat. It reminded her how little she had on beneath the numerous gauze bandages and dry paper tape that held each square in place. It was so far from how she should feel. Everything about the place and the situation screamed for her to get out as soon as she possibly could.

That was what Doc told her when he first crossed her path. Was this his way of saying it again? The woman hated him more with every minute that passed while she was confined to a four point hold on her back. If he went this far to repeat his warning that she should leave what else was he willing to do? She was nearly killed and yet survived. How come? He was capable of finding her behind locked doors. He didn’t require a key or an invite. That thought alone was creepy as hell and cost her the luxury of being able to sleep undisturbed. It also ruined half of her favorite movies. She knew the truth now. The blood suckers didn’t need an invite to come in and use you as a chew toy. Just like a mosquito they found their way in. Locks were of no use.

The fact she survived this long said something more was at play. Was he unable to kill her? Did being a paladin give her some sort of invincibility when it came to those attacking her? Was there some force or power that interceded and kept watch over her and collected her at the brink of death? The burn of guilt set in and twisted in her gut. Her grandmother would be rolling over in her grave at what was being debated in her own mind.

If her gut being twisted by guilt was not enough her then it was no help that her *** hurt like hell from lack of movement. Her joints were feeling the fatigue. Each ache and pain was miniscule compared to the twinge of hopelessness trying to make its presence known in her mind. If it got in and seated itself in her thoughts its message would eat at her until all was lost and nothing was left. Part of her couldn’t stop wondering if she already had and just didn’t accept it yet.

Outside the obvious Dominique felt like a patchwork project forgotten as the hours dragged painfully slow for her. The staff was useless to her. Anything she said was met with a flat effect. That left her with the message that they would rather be *** puppets to the pricks and cunts in suits with complimentary lab coats than to think and act as the care advocates they were supposed to be for any patient presented to them.

That was the thing that boggled her mind more and more outside everything else as she lay there. How the hell was he able to pull this off? Everyone that came in the room looked at her as if she belonged where she was. She had no medically documented history in Harper Rock. Her previous wounds taken care of by the nuns. What if the whole hospital was one big fang run operation? The formal complaint she brought in and personally handed to the hospital administrator likely was never taken any more serious than she currently was. The time that had passed was not without her groggily voicing her objections to refuse treatment and care fell on deaf ears. The ******** probably made sure it was in her chart now.

Obviously the attempt at caging the man like a rat in her apartment failed miserably. Her body was confirming it as she twitched to get any amount of movement from her limbs. One thing was a sure bet. She was more sane than the one responsible for her being there. Doc. He was as sick and twisted as they could come breathing or cold as a week old corpse. He was seriously beyond that. A dead man was running the show and calling the shots while the rest breathed and nodded in complacency.

“You can get through this.” Her own words of reassurance flowed through her thoughts. She wanted to make sure she was still listening to herself. If she didn’t then she knew she was totally fucked.

Dominique believed she was of sound mind and body. Granted things were a little fuzzy but that was because her veins were currently serving as a non-stop highway for whatever was in those syringes that kept biting the inside of her right arm every six hours. Who wouldn’t be a little off with all that swimming through their system?

The click of the inner workings of a lock snapped for her attention. Her dark eyes darted to the location of the door and she waited. She hoped that it would be someone who would finally be receptive to what she had to say. She squirmed again beneath the sheet. Each muscle slowly stretched as much as it could. Her mind was set on survival. She would not break. If she had not by now then something besides time was on her side.

A nightmare on two feet wearing a lab coat appeared before her. There was so many ways she wanted to get her hands on him and break him down slowly until he shattered into miniscule particles of fucked for eternity dust. Dominique swallowed slowly and tried to stay calm focusing on her pattern of breathing and heart rate. His kind were predators, scavengers and hunters. Any sign of fear or defense was a confirmation he was in control.

The not-so-nuts patient was prepared for this inevitable meeting. Dominique forced her eyes to remain wide and soft. If she appeared receptive perhaps she could lead him to believe his message he gave her in the very beginning was finally received as her cloudy mind cleared. Narrowing them would say what she really felt and it would not serve her immediate goal of getting free. His voice saying her name was as pleasant as needles digging under her fingernails. He had no right to address her like he cared about how she felt. Who was he kidding? The master of mindfuckery would get a taste of his own medicine.

“I am alive. I guess I owe that to all the exceptional care I have received. I would not have survived had it not been for your intervention and fast response. Thank you for all you have done.”

Each and every word that rolled off her tongue and out of her lips was so sour that she was sure she could vomit from how it made her feel hearing her own voice say it out loud. It was true perhaps, she was alive because of his interceding. She was sure if he was it certainly wasn’t because he cared. That was so far from it. He had plans and none of them were in her favor. She would appear out of character even in her compromised condition if she didn’t demonstrate a small show of her trademark tenacity. Now for the million dollar question.

“So, Doctor Nilson, what do I owe you for this pleasure of the fine accommodations?”

Dominique finally peeled her eyes from his and casually took a visual tour down the center of his business-like covered chest. The lab coat fit him as if he deserved the privilege to wear one. Her eyes traveled across his waist to glance at the pockets to see what if any outline was visible to offer clues to the contents within. A crucifix dangled at the top likely anchored by the string of beads still inside. What the **** was he doing with a rosary? Her heart nearly stopped as she saw one small familiar bead as he moved. Her eyes darted back to his and she felt a sharp pain in her chest. The son of a ***** had totally crossed the line.

“You have certainly out done yourself.” She forced out the truth in the softest genuine tone she could muster given what she just discovered in his possession.

[Doc]

Doc didn’t believe her words, not for a second. However, he would give her credit for trying. His lips curled into a slightly appreciate smirk. “Indeed.” He didn’t say anything further, as he pulled a hypodermic out of his pocket. He held it up so she could see it clearly, and then he thumped it in order to bring the air bubbles to the top, then depressed the plunger slightly pushing the air out of the chamber.

“You are going to feel a slight pinch..” He jabbed it in her arm and injected the drug cocktail quickly. It was a 50 ml dose of Haldol with a Klonopin chaser. She would begin to feel the effects relatively quickly. He pocketed the now empty hypodermic into the same pocket holding the rosary, which now disappeared completely from view.

Moving to the foot of the gurney, Doc laid his hand on her leg, just below the knee. His cool hand slid slowly down the length of her leg, until it reached the buckle of the restraint. He unfastened the restraint, and lifted her leg. “The staff have been very.. ‘impressed’ with the rate of your healing..” He bent her leg, and stretched it out a few times, as he let his words hang in the air. He knew he didn’t need to say more. She wasn’t stupid. She would get the significance sooner or later. “Very Impressed.. Ms.” he paused again and smiled at her, “...Doe.”

It was a fact. And just how long Doc could keep news of her extraordinary healing progress under cover, would depend greatly on Porter. Porter was ambitious, and he had plans for Ms. Doe that didn’t include her seeing the light of day anytime soon. And that suited him just fine. And with a name like Doe, how easy it would be to have her and her file, to simply get lost in the system.

Minx’ other leg was released from its restraint, like the first, and bent and stretched as well. He absently massaged her calf as he watched her face. “You could make things go,... so much easier for yourself, if you would only cooperate.” He would play along with her charade, he wanted to see just how effective she could be at subterfuge. The drug should be dulling her thinking processes by now. “Our main goal for you is to help you get better. And to rid you of the delusions you seem to be under. It isn’t your fault. It is a mental illness.”

He moved back to the first leg and began massaging that one, “You do know, of course,“ His tone was passive and casual as he spoke, “that in extreme cases, where the patient shows absolutely no sign of recovery, ECT is the prescribed treatment.” he carefully laid her leg down. “Now we wouldn’t want that .. now would we, Ms. Doe?”

[Dominique]

If the room was not frigid before then the moment the syringe appeared she felt her insides nearly weep with protest. Dominique didn’t want anymore shots or the drugs they delivered that she didn’t need. The way Doc held it, thumped at the side of it showed he really enjoyed it far more than anyone ever should. It wasn’t for her benefit. It was for his. He got something out of presenting it in the air so she could see. The thought of it made her sick. She wanted to get out and get as far away from where she was and she never wanted to look back. She also wanted to get her hands on him in the most cruel ways possible and hear the crack of his sick spine breaking in her hold. The more she thought about it as she watched him standing there the more she knew she was on to something. The prick to her arm confirmed she was not far from the truth and she made sure her eyes were on his when he pressed the meds forward she never needed to begin with back in her veins.

The nurses, the orderlies and even the eyes of whoever else that were around her observing from some room she never saw were all likely his drones of some kind. His source for blood perhaps or his thralls under some power that the vampires were able to possess to make a human do their bidding. She had heard so much in those early meetings. A lot of the information was hard to accept as fact. It was all so unbelievable at the time but now as she had been increasingly confronted with the reality of what truly was going on she now found herself recalling why it was making all starting to make sense. No wonder no one was listening to her protests. By now someone would have if it was a real hospital. If it was all really what it was supposed to be why was she feeling the effects of what shouldn’t be traveling once again through her veins into her brain?

It wasn’t a hospital. That was it! Now as the waves of calm washed through her she held tightly to her theory. What she was likely in was his lair as she remembered hearing about his kind. Home sweet hospital. Witches had covens and these sick blood fiends had holes they called lairs. Some could be nothing more than caves so dark even Batman wouldn’t stroll into for a siesta. Others more elaborate or normal appearing to the point you would never think anything was suspicious. They owned businesses, vehicles and lived as families. None were found dangling upside down from a tree somewhere with red eyes and wings. So why would it be far fetched that this Dr. Charles Nilson, a.ka. bloodsucker, could be calling this hospital home sweet home? For all she knew she was still in West Tower.

A cold but increasingly familiar sensation moved down her leg and tugged her from her brainstorming of possible scenarios. He was touching her. She wanted to crawl out of her skin and like a spider get up the wall and jump down on him and end it all. Then again what he was doing was the last thing she expected. Could it be? She looked down at him and felt the release of her leg. It was in his hands and he was moving it gently as if he truly cared that it still worked. Her eyes fixed on his and wondered what the hell he was planning next. It was then that he spoke again.

People were noticing her rapid healing. So he says. What about his creepy bedside manner, odd hours and the fact he never ate in the cafeteria with the rest of them? He was deluded if she was supposed to be paranoid over what was happening with her as if she had something to hide. He was cracked in the head. Thanks to her he certainly was. She refrained from indulging in a smirk at how good she got him. What he was saying was a scare tactic. His claim she was under some sort of scrutiny was his own doing. Of course she was being watched. However, she would be willing to bet they were not half as impressed with her rate of healing as they were with whatever Doc had to say. The staff was under his control. This was no hospital, it was a den of torture and sadistic harvesting of humans. He could look at them with a dinner plate in hand that had processed long grass dripping with fresh cud telling them that was icing on the massive cow pie and they would eat it up no questions asked.

Cooperate? He was certifiably mad. No way in hell would she ever lay down and take it as if all that she was didn’t matter. She was not going to be another drop of blood in the endless pool that would never sate his kind no matter how much it spread and grew. She was to fight and not stop till he was dust. She wanted to right there but as if he was doing it all on purpose at the time he was doing it now her other leg was in his hands. Her expression was one of tension giving way to something within. A warm fuzzy feeling was slowly sliding through each sore limb and back up the center of her spine. Her mind was ahead of her joints and muscles. She looked at him as much as she dared while the effects of his injection took hold. He trumped her again and her body was allowing it to happen. She wished it hurt but the truth was it was starting to feel so much better and she would never admit why.

"No." The single word could have been in response to what he was saying but it was a quiet protest to the increased effects of the meds he fed into her not long ago. She needed the pain back to empower her. The comfortable wave coming over her was far more painful. She was weakening under his hands and the chemical hold. Another shot from his syringe was another set back. the score was not in her favor. Dominique- 0 Doc-2. He was such a ********. “No...we wouldn’t want that.”

[Doc]

As she agreed that ECT was not, what ‘they’ wanted, Doc held in the triumphant cold smile that threatened. Instead he nodded solemnly, and gently rubbed her legs a moment longer. He figured she was watching him, and he had made sure to keep his eyes on the task at hand, never meeting her gaze. He want to know her reaction. He wanted to see if it was, what he had hoped it would be; but he knew this was a critical part of his revised plan. So that meant, no surreptitious looks in her direction, in the off chance that she might catch it, and get an idea of what he was trying to accomplish.

Doc moved to the head of the gurney and looked down at her. Her pupils were dilated, the drugs were taking effect on her. His left hand brushed Minx hair away from her face. He could see she wanted nothing more than get her hands around his throat and squeeze. But he smiled consolingly at her. It was now time to play the caring doctor, whose only goal, was to be there for her comfort and recovery. Now that Porter was in the picture, Porter could be the bad guy, and He could play the one that she should turn to.

Yes. It was shaping up nicely. At first he was annoyed when Porter decided to poke his nose into his business, but now, having had time to think on it and digest, Doc saw how Porter could be used as a tool for furthering his ends. Of course Porter wouldn’t know this. All Porter had to do.. was be Porter. Porter was an ***. Unlike Doc, who was also an ***, Porter lived under the delusion that people loved him, especially women. Doc would make that work in his favor.

Doc began to unbuckle the restraint on her right arm. It was a calculated risk. If she attacked him now, she would only be hurting herself, because the hospital staff would lock her down again. And he would secretly enjoy her pain. But the goal was to get her to see him in a caring light. To see him, as the one, the only one, she needed to turn to and trust. And it started now. The simple task of releasing her, and turning her over, before she would be restrained again, by the orderly, would cement in her mind, he did care.

As her wrist became free, he lifted her arm slowly, and ran his hand up and down the muscles of her arm, “There Ms. Doe. Doesn't that feel better?” He knew that her arm muscles were probably screaming, but it was a necessary evil to move the arms, keep them active, even if it meant she might attack him later. She would know this. And hopefully she would begin to doubt what she thinks she knows about him. Which would just bond her more, hopefully. Doc moved around the gurney and released her other wrist. He repeated the careful lifting and rubbing.

“Ms. Doe, I am going to take a look at your wound, and if it is doing well, I am going to turn you over. It may be uncomfortable, but I will do my not to hurt you.”

He lifted her tunic and checked the wound. The wound was healing at extraordinary rate. It was impressive to say the least. He didn’t blame Porter at all for wanting to run some tests on her. He would have wanted to as well, if she had crossed his past this time last year. But he knew better now. Doc pressed on her abdomen gently, “Any pain..?”

Her expression was one of tension giving way to something within. A warm fuzzy feeling that was slowly sliding through each sore limb and the center of her spine. Her mind was ahead of her joints and muscles. She looked at him as much as she dared while the effects of his injection took hold. He trumped her again and her body was allowing it to happen. She wished it hurt but the truth was it was starting to feel so much better and she wouldn’t never admit why. "No." She needed the pain. The comfortable wave coming over her was far more painful.

Nodding Doc murmured, “Good.” His voice was soft, soothing and caring. He let his fingers linger for a moment longer on her before, he straightened. “Yes I think we can turn you over.” He went about preparing her for the turn. He crossed her left leg over her right leg carefully. He tucked her right arm into her side, and then carefully rolled her over. He then straightened out each of her appendages. Again her hair was softly smoothed away from her face. “Better?” He didn’t wait for an answer. He headed to the door.

Knocking on the door, He waited for the orderly. It took a moment before the orderly arrived. While Doc waited, Minx was left alone, to move and adjust herself freely. He was relying on the drug cocktail to make her movement weak and sluggish.

The door was opened, “Ready to go already Doc?” the orderly inquired.

“No. I require a cup of water, with straw. A bendy straw, please.”

“Sure thing Doc…” The door was securely shut and locked. Again, Doc waited by the door, giving Minx the luxury of moving how she wanted without any intervention. It was the little things that would hopefully show her he was there for her. Ten minutes later, the door reopened and the orderly handed over a paper cup with a paper bend straw, before once more, closing and securely locking the door.

Doc carried the cup over to Minx and squatted on his haunches and held the cup and straw up for her, “Water?” He knew the staff here didn’t have the time to wait and make Minx drink. And knowing Minx she probably didn’t on purpose. She was dehydrated, he could tell from the chapped lips. The drugs wouldn’t help. She needed to drink.

He schooled his features to show, carefully hidden compassion, as he held the straw waiting for her to drink. It was a look he had perfected when dealing with terminal patients. The terminals always wanted to ask, question and plead for a different answer. But once he wore that look, and said no, it was like the fight just went out of them.

Doc wanted Minx to see that look on his face. That hidden compassion, to help eat away at what she thinks is real. After all what fun is it, if the experiment doesn’t feel the least bit conflicted?