Who: Toby (Dr. Fischer, she says) and Iris What: Freaking out and cuddles? Where: Iris' facility --> Toby's apartment When: The night Sid posted the pictures of Ian to the journals Warnings/Rating: Blatant disregard for doctor/patient separation and professionalism? Possibly a bit ooky there?
She had seen the post. Handwriting that was too familiar, and though he didn’t reply when she asked, she had very little doubt that it had been Sid that she had spoken with. Though she had known that things would change, that things would happen, that Ian would die. She thought she had accepted it, had said her goodbye, even. But receiving official word had turned her upside down, and with the constant observation of everyone at the facility, she’d felt ready to scream on top of everything else. There was only one thing she could think of to do, so she had reached out to Dr. Fischer.
The offer had come as a surprise, but one that she jumped at after barely a moment of thought. She’d been through the door fairly recently, Dr. Fischer delivering on his promise to let her go to the hotel, and she figured that being away from the facility for the night would be simply another chance for her to go through the door. It wasn’t the most restful, but it would at least get her out from under the eyes of the doctors, nurses, and other staff that kept wandering through, checking and re-checking and never giving her more than a few moments’ peace. She was confused and upset, but she wasn’t suicidal, and she simply wanted them to leave her alone. And if being in someone else’s mind got her out from the constant observation, she would take it.
She didn’t have many clothes that weren’t simply to be worn around the facility - wide-legged, knit pants and oversized shirts. She tended to drown in her clothing lately, but when she ventured out to the hotel, where someone not affiliated with the facility might see her, she slipped on one of the two dresses she kept there. A dark grey, scoop-necked thing that she likely could have slept in, it was so soft and stretchy. She slipped her feet into shoes that were barely shoes at all, more like slippers, perched on the edge of her bed, and waited for Dr. Fischer to arrive.
Toby wasn't entirely sure what had prompted him to extend the offer of some time out of the facility, but the combination of the message that was left about Ian Russell's death and the contact from Iris only shortly after left him feeling as though this was the right thing to do. There weren't a lot of things recently that Toby felt that he could do well, especially given the state of his relationship with his brothers and the fact that he hadn't been to see his mother in weeks, but this he could succeed at. This was work. This was something he was always good at.
So Toby went to the facility that Iris was calling home at the moment, a moment's conversation with the doctor on staff that night to explain to him what he was doing, and yes, he would take all responsibility for the overnight stay. Part of him realised that Iris may have believed he was simply taking her to the hotel to cross through the door for an evening, but that was hardly in his plans. No, there would be an evening meal at his place and the offer of his guest room to sleep in, unbothered by nurses checking on her every hour or so, and if she still needed something to help her sleep, he could and would provide that as well. It was the least he could do, he thought, in the aftermath of news that was giving her mixed emotions.
A knock on the door to her room came before he entered, a ready smile that was at home on his face. "Sorry. I was running a bit late. Traffic was a mess tonight." He paused, tilting his head to the side, looking for any sort of overnight bag she might have packed. He knew that she didn't have a lot with her, but a change of clothes, at least underthings, he expected. "Did you want to bring anything with you?" he asked, brows arched as he closed the door behind him, giving them some privacy.
Iris stood when Dr. Fischer entered her room, and folded her hands together in front of her body. She hadn’t been keeping track of the time, letting it pass by like she often had to, as it would without her paying attention to it at all. Her fingers were nearly white as she twisted them together, still shaky and convinced that she was feeling more than she should be. After so many years of the blunting effects of medication, and the clinging depression she’d been bearing since moving to Las Vegas, to feel such a combination of strong emotions was nearly more than she could handle. She wanted calm and quiet, she wanted to figure out how to handle everything, and she wanted things to make sense.
But even Dr. Fischer didn’t make sense, asking about bringing things with her. She stared at him, eyebrows together and a small line forming between them with the frown that pulled at her mouth as well. She looked down at herself, the simple way she was dressed, and wondered if she’d forgotten something. But no, she couldn’t tell that anything was out of place. Her hands untwisted and she ran her palms over her stomach before one inched self-consciously up to her hair. But that seemed alright as well, just a simply, low ponytail. She was still frowning a bit when she looked back up at him.
“I don’t need anything when she’s through the door,” she said softly.
It was easy to see the confusion that writ itself across her face, and it didn't take long to put two and two together to understand what she was talking about. "I wasn't intending on taking you to the hotel," Toby explained, the door still at his back, making no move to push away from it. "You said you wanted some rest, and I thought you might rest better outside the facility. Was I wrong?" Maybe he had assumed incorrectly, maybe he had offered the wrong thing. If she preferred time through the door, he was sure he could offer that to her, though he still felt that his idea was better.
Iris blinked at Dr. Fischer. And stared. And after a long, silent moment of her hands still pressed to her stomach, blinked again. “Oh,” she finally managed, and followed it with another frown. One of continuing confusion. Outside of the facility could mean anywhere, but in the weeks and months since she arrived (though she still professed to hate him on certain days) Iris at least trusted him. So while she still frowned, she figured that there were some sorts of procedures in place for patients that were able to spend a night outside of the facility. All she could think of was a night’s stay at a motel, fees added to the rest of her hospital bills. So she shook her head slightly. “No. That’s… alright.”
She simply stood there for a bit longer before she nodded to herself and turned, going to the cabinet where they allowed her to keep her things. They’d finally begun leaving it unlocked, apparently trusting that she wouldn’t use her own clothing to hurt herself, and it only took her a moment to gather a very few things together. The bag was small, more a purse than a tote, though just large enough to fit everything she thought she might need. That task complete, she turned back toward the door and looked at him again, uncertain if she needed anything else.
Toby was quiet as he watched her muddle through his explanation, and then he was waiting patiently as she got a few things together in the small bag that served as an overnight bag. "Ready?" he asked, a smile coming to his lips as he finally opened the door and gestured for her to depart ahead of him, the lights turned off in their wake as they made their way down the hallway to the nurse's office down the way. "Just a moment, Iris," Toby said, fingers touching her arm to pause her as he disappeared briefly, returning with a small zippered bag which he tucked in his own bag, a moment to adjust the strap before he gave her a nod. "I'm parked just out front. I didn't expect to be here long, considering."
The night was warm, but his car was still cool from the air running only moments prior, the door held open for her until she was safely in the passenger seat, going so far as to close it behind her before sliding into the driver's seat. "Sometimes it's good to get out, isn't it?" he asked, putting the car into gear and then pulling away, soon joining the evening traffic of Sin City. "They all mean well, but it's good to get away from them at times, I think. Takes away some of the stress being there can cause."
It was easy enough to follow along after him, to not have to think things through and let her mind wander over the same things it had been trying to figure out for the past days. She returned his smiles, though hers were barely a turn-up of lips in response to his, and she only nodded to all his conversational attempts. She said nothing as she slid into the passenger’s seat of his car - something she registered as simply “blue” before the door was closed after her. It took her a moment to remember her seatbelt, but it gave her something to do as he started the car.
She continued to stay silent for a little while longer, but finally swallowed awkwardly. “It’s just that they’re always there,” she said toward the passenger’s side window, watching her own reflection against the dark and light of the passing city. “I finally think that I’m about to figure something out, and then one of them is there, and it’s all gone again.” After another moment of silence, she continued to talk, a run of words that escaped without her meaning to let them out. “If I tended toward paranoia, it would almost seem as if they were doing it on purpose, but I know that can’t be true. So I try not to think that way, but the fact remains that someone is always there, and it’s the wrong kind of quiet.” She bit on her lower lip to stop the words, and breathed out softly through her nose.
"It's their job to be there, unfortunately," Toby replied, his gaze on the road, both hands on the wheel, as careful in his driving as he was in nearly every other aspect of his life. "But I know what you mean. It's not really quiet unless you can be alone, and you're not really alone when people are standing feet away on the other side of a wall." He knew that sort of feeling, had experienced it in college, the alarming lack of solitude one could find themselves facing more often than not. He let out a long breath, kneading the steering wheel for a moment before he flicked on his turn signal to make a turn into the apartment complex he called home. The Red Rock Villas were quiet, and just nice enough that he felt safe and comfortable living here. The garage was opened and he pulled in without saying a word until after the engine was killed.
"I've a couple spare bedrooms," Toby explained, running his hands over the wheel before he glanced over towards her, wondering if she had figured out where he was taking her. "That way, if you need something, I'm there. And if you don't, you can just be on your own. I promise I won't bother you."
“I’m used to being alone,” Iris whispered, still watching out the window. “For a while, now.” She went quiet, frowning when the car turned in to the the apartment complex. She’d expected a hotel, not an apartment. Not a nice looking one, that seemed quiet and… peaceful. Not one whose garage opened for Dr. Fischer.
She sat silently in the car once he shut off the engine, listening to the tick of the metal as it suddenly began to cool and the sound of the two of them breathing into the silence. She continued to stare out the window, though nothing moved in the garage. Her hands were twisted together tightly, knuckles white, and when she finally spoke, her voice was almost as soft as her breath. “This is your home.” It wasn’t a question. It was clear now, how she’d misunderstood. “When you said… I didn’t think I would be intruding on your home.”
He saw the white knuckles, heard the soft pitch of her breath when she finally spoke, and Toby had to wonder if he had done something wrong in doing this. Yes, it was unconventional for a doctor to offer a patient a place to stay for the night, but there was very little about he or Iris that was wholly conventional. "You're not intruding, Iris," Toby said in as patient of a voice as he could muster. His hands fell away from the steering wheel, gaze fixed out the window into his garage, the door still open behind them. The garage was tidy, a bicycle hanging from the ceiling in one corner, a few totes and other things. It was a garage of a man who spent little time at home, who didn't have a yard to maintain and let other people see to his vehicle.
"I can take you elsewhere if you'd prefer. I simply thought this might be more convenient." And she still had to be supervised. Leaving her alone in a hotel room meant staying there as well, if only to make sure she didn't leave in the middle of the night once his back was turned. He didn't think they were still at that point, but precautions still had to be taken.
The same sorts of thoughts that were going through his mind were also making themselves known to her. Of course she wouldn’t yet be allowed to stay on her own. And while staying in his home, a place that should be free of patients, made her stomach turn with embarrassment and guilt (no matter how he claimed that she wasn’t intruding), she realized upon thinking on it, that there was really no other way to get her out of the facility. Unless it was to return to the empty and paint-stained apartment that was still in her name. The place that she now realized had seen something that she couldn’t yet quite come to terms with. She knew she would never stay there again. So Dr. Fischer’s home seemed, at the moment, to be the only other option for her.
She finally nodded to herself, something both resigned and determined, and pressed the button to release her seat belt. She gathered up the small bag, still in her lap where it spent the entire ride, and carefully opened the door to let herself out of the car. She closed it softly but firmly once she was standing again, and crossed around the vehicle to wait for him.
The lack of response that accompanied her exiting the vehicle had him somewhat concerned, but they were mild in nature, things that he could attribute to Iris simply being Iris. It wasn't a bad thing, just not how everyone would react. "I don't keep a lot of food in the house," Toby explained as he led the way inside, unlocking the inside door of the garage after lowering the garage door, holding it open for her to step inside in front of him.
Toby's apartment was sparse in nature. There were personal effects here and there, a few pictures of him and his brothers, a young family with two small boys, a modest amount of furniture, but it was clear that the place wasn't often lived in. A pile of mail sat on the counter of the kitchen, toast crumbs on the counter, the normal detritus of a busy life scattered here and there in small amounts. "So we can order something out. I have menus somewhere, and once I find them you're welcome to pick whatever you wish." His keys were tossed on a small table by the door after he had closed it behind them, turning to look at Iris a moment later. "Uhm. The bedrooms are all upstairs. The guest room is on the right at the end of the hallway, and there's a bath attached. You're welcome to stay down here and relax or…" Toby trailed off, suddenly feeling awkward about the entire thing as he looked up towards the light near the door, closing his eyes. "Sorry."
She followed him inside, quiet yet as she studied the apartment. Her expression was as neutral as it often was, taking everything in before saying anything about it. When she finally replied, it wasn’t about the decor. “I never kept much in the house,” she said, glancing over at him with almost uncomfortably wide eyes. The last person’s space she had been in was Ian’s, and while this was nothing like it (was in fact at the opposite end of the spectrum from the desert mansion), the awkwardness felt much the same in the moment. Minus, of course, all the history. “I don’t eat much.” Which she felt he likely already knew, if he was reading the nurse’s reports from her meals. Though the handles of her bag were twisted through her fingers, she pressed one hand against her stomach, an unconsciously nervous gesture.
She looked around again after that, keeping Dr. Fischer in her peripheral vision, but studying the space as best she could. The family pictures made a sad almost-smile find a home on her lips, as did the nearly anonymous signs of the apartment’s resident. If not for the photos, it seemed like the space could belong to anyone. Her old apartment had felt much the same until she’d hung the scarf from Elise in the bedroom window. For the first time since her last visit to that apartment before her suicide attempt, she wanted to see and hold that scarf again. The need of it nearly stole her breath away, and she turned away as she tried to gather herself again. She shook her head at his apology, knowing there was no reason for him to offer such words to her. “It’s fine,” she finally managed, voice almost lost in the unfamiliar space. “Get what you like. I can…” She turned halfway toward the stairs, then back toward him, uncertain of what she should be doing.
He looked back towards her as she spoke, the drift towards the stairs and then back towards him when he met her gaze once more. He didn't say anything for a long while, didn't move even a millimeter, but eventually, something had him moving towards her. He was still quiet, plucking the bag from her fingers and gently resting it on the floor at their feet. "Come here," Toby requested in a quiet voice, and then, without waiting for a response, he wound his arms around her, pulling her in for a hug. Nothing more was said, but it seemed like the right thing to do just then, if there was such a thing that existed in this messed up world they were all living.
Though the bag’s handles had been twisted tightly in her fingers, it was easy enough for it to be drawn away, set off to the side. She looked down at it for a long, still moment, uncertain of what else to expect and still wondering if she should slip off to the guest room, glancing over at the stairs again, but then there were arms around her, and her whole world shifted a little .There was enough assurance to the words that she didn’t fight them, though she went tense for long moment as she registered what was happening, her entire body nearly taut enough to snap like a thread. She held herself that way for too long, just past the time that one of them should have pulled away, but the moment finally broke and she let out a long, shaky breath. The tension went with it, and she folded forward toward him, her hands coming up to cover her face and her body curving toward his chest.
Her muscles fought the tremors of relaxation after being held too tight for too long, and her breathing went unsteady. It had been weeks since she’d been touched at all, and this was different than that had been. She knew, was convinced, that this touch held no desire, that who and what she was would chase anything of the sort away from a touch. But in that moment, she also didn’t care. Dr. Fischer could have been disgusted by her on every level, and she still would have folded toward him, drawn by such a basic need for human contact that she never quite wanted to admit to.
It was overwhelming, being held, and besides the suddenly constant vibration of shivers, Iris had also started to cry. Slow, seeping tears through her fingers, and a breath that never quite wanted to steady. There was a hitch to it that she couldn’t chase away, not even when she started to speak. Soft, whispering, cut-off sounds that slowly formed into desperate apologies. “I’m sorry, Dr. Fischer. I’m sorry…”
He felt the tension that ran through her, tight and taut, and for a moment he thought that he had done something wrong - again. But then the breath was released and it drained out of her as though a plug had been pulled, and as she folded in towards him, hands covering her face, Toby simply continued to hold on. He didn't say anything, but as the tears started, the soft little noises as her breath hitched in her chest, he had to wonder how long it had been since she had gotten a hug. There was a lot to be said about the power of human contact, and it was often overlooked in the healing process of both mind and body.
"Shh," Toby urged her even as the apologies began, a hand sweeping down her back, and then up again, coming up to cup the back of her head as he pulled her in a little closer. "There's no need for apologies right now, Iris. You've done nothing wrong." Toby let out a breath of his own, fingers massaging into her hair, and he wondered what his colleagues would say if they saw him right now, behaving as he was. It was unorthodox, but everything about their lives was quite unorthodox, wasn't it? With the hotel, the trauma that seemed to plague so many, Toby felt that a hug could be forgiven, particularly when it came to giving one to someone who needed it as badly as Iris seemed to.
He didn't draw back for some time, and when he finally did, it was to draw her towards the couch, sinking down onto it without another word, pulling her with him to sit.
She felt so lost. Small and tossed about and broken in so very many ways, but for the moment (even though the tears wouldn’t - couldn’t - stop) she was being held together. It wasn’t the usual sort of fight to keep herself in one piece, the fight that left her exhausted and brittle and alone, but a strange sort of collapse that nonetheless felt safe, like there would be a soft landing at the end. Fingers in her hair made her shiver, but it only joined the unsteady shaking that she was trying to control. Even through his reassurances, she shook her head slightly, arguing silently with the words. She knew what she’d done - in the past and in the present. She felt like she could apologize for the rest of time and it would never be enough.
He pulled back too soon, before she had gathered herself together again, and it was a struggle to not reach out or cling. She was doing her best to chide herself for allowing herself that contact, for holding onto it longer than she should have. The bitter inner scolding was visible across her face in that short moment before he guided her forward again, chased away by guilty relief when she settled next to him on the couch. She sat too close, leg nearly touching his, but she attempted to return to something proper, her posture gone back to pulling tension into her shoulders, perched on the edge of the seat and doing her best to ignore the soft invitation of cushions and warmth. She pulled her lower lip hard between vicious teeth, the sting of her own bite an attempt to steady herself, shaky fingers wiping at her cheeks, trying to brush away the indulgence of tears she’d allowed herself. She didn’t look at him, other than to glance down at his shoes and away again, and when she spoke, her voice was thick with the struggle of normalcy and an attempt to hide the desire to return to the warm safety of a moment before. “I’m sorry,” she repeated, a subtle shake of her head. “I shouldn’t have…”
When she shifted her position to something more upright and less relaxed, Toby let out a long, audible sigh. "Iris…" he murmured softly. "There's nothing to apologise for. Honestly." And without another word or listening to any other protests she might have had, Toby leaned forward slightly to wind an arm around her shoulders, drawing her down towards him, urging her to lay her head upon his shoulder. "Just relax. That's the only thing I want you to do right now. Relax and be at peace for a little while." There was concern about her, worry that he couldn't quite brush away. It reminded him of when they had brought home an injured dog when he was in his teens. The dog had been starving, hurt, dehydrated, and they had done all they could to help nurse it back to life, but despite all the affections they offered, the thing was still skittish, as though they would strike out at it at any moment. Iris reminded him of that hurt, skittish dog, so afraid of punishment that it wouldn't allow itself to get close to anyone again.
The words to apologize again were on her tongue, but they were chased away but sudden surprise. She wasn’t expecting it, was holding herself so tense that her sense of balance was off, didn’t have the strength to fight against the careful pull, and found herself suddenly tipping to the side. Tension was still shot tight through her body, nearly a humming vibration along her muscles. She held her breath, heart racing, but when nothing happened other than an arm around her shoulders, a warm solidity for her to lean against, bit by bit she began to relax. It took too long, so slow as to be nearly unnoticeable that it was even happening, but she didn’t pull away. She reached a point that certainly wasn’t relaxed, but at least wasn’t drawn tight, and then, between one second and the next, she let out a long, slow breath, and everything began to release a little more.
“I shouldn’t,” she whispered, but her head lowered to rest on his shoulder. Pull away, her mind said. Don’t make him do this. But instead she curled her arms against her chest and tried not to think about how her own shoulder was likely digging into him.
"Nor should I," Toby murmured quietly even as she settled further, some of the tension leaking out of her as though a faucet had been turned on. "But lately, I've been doing a lot of things that I shouldn't, and nothing bad has happened so far." His arm tightened around her slightly, and as her head settled upon his shoulder, his fingers lifted to comb through her hair lightly. "Just relax, Iris. Doctor's orders, or I shall be cross with you, and neither of us want that to happen." Toby let out a quiet, breathy laugh, one leg coming up to cross over the other, his head tipped back to rest against the back of the couch, his view that of the top of her head and the rest of his living room, fingers lightly brushing through her hair. He wasn't entirely sure why he was doing this, but it would be a lie to say that he felt no affection at all for the woman who had come to his hospital.
The gentle fingers through her hair were too sweet to pull away from, and so she let her head rest against his shoulder with a quiet little sigh. She knew she shouldn’t - knew that doctors didn’t sit on couches and patients didn’t curl themselves close. But Ian was gone, it would change nothing with the family that hated her, and she was greedy enough to crave a bit of comfort for herself. Just a little. As much as she knew that she didn’t deserve any such thing. But she closed her eyes and breathed out again, pretending for the moment that things would be alright.
The tentative relaxation fled swiftly and suddenly at his quiet words, the way they were phrased. Cross with her. No, no, no. Cross with her meant things that he could not do. Not as her doctor. But he would have to, if he was cross with her. That was how it was meant to be. Her eyes opened again, and she stared across the room, not realizing how the tense worry had begun to seep back into her body. She still leaned against Toby’s side, but she pulled in farther on herself, her arms drawing tighter to her chest. It took a moment, but she finally swallowed, her voice rough and quiet. “I’m relaxed. It’s fine. You don’t have to be... It’s fine. I won’t make you…” Her next words were barely even a whisper. “I promise. ...it’s fine.”
It had been meant as a bit of a joke, something to lighten the tense mood that hung in the air, but as she started to tense, to pull back from him slightly, arms against her chest, Toby knew that he had said something wrong. The roughness in her voice, the soft words that he didn't have to be, that she wouldn't make him, it raised questions he didn't have answers to, and slowly, he drew back slightly, a hand still resting on her shoulder in order to keep the connection that had already been established.
"What's wrong, Iris?" Toby asked softly, his voice pitched barely above a whisper. "I was joking with you. That's all. Nothing to be taken seriously. So what did I say that was wrong?" He was honestly curious, concerned and worried about this broken thing that he wasn't sure could ever be pieced back together properly.
She wanted to hide against him, to be small and invisible and still somewhere safe. But if he was cross, that wouldn’t be possible. The shaking started again, less tension and more a reaction to the worry and (if she admitted it) fear that sprung up. She didn’t know what he would be like if he was cross, didn’t know how he would react, and the uncertainty was likely worse than whatever would come.
She didn’t look up, even when he pulled back, though she did lean her shoulder into his hand, like she couldn’t let that go, even in her worry. “You don’t have to be cross. Or disappointed. Or… anything. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. I promise that I’ll…” but she trailed off, uncertain of what exactly she should do to make things better.
"Hush." The word came quietly, just a release of air as he drew her back in towards him, going so far as to angle his body towards her, drawing her against his chest with a drop of a kiss to the top of her head. "I'm not cross with you. Or disappointed. Nothing like that. Right now, I just want you to rest, alright? That's it." The words were spoken against her hair, somewhat muffled, and Toby looked out across his living room, wondering what it was he was doing. He shouldn't be doing this, inviting a patient into his house, holding said patient while they were on his couch, but he was, and he didn't want to push her away. Toby let out a soft breath, eyes closing, his arm tightening around her just a bit, a squeeze of reassurance for both of them.
It was easy to let herself be pulled back in again. There was no fight in her any more, and she settled against his chest with a quiet sigh. She pulled her arms in close again, fingers twisted together and pressed close to her mouth. “I don’t mean to make you cross,” she whispered, muffled slightly by her fingers, but she closed her eyes and then, after a moment, turned her head slightly to hide her face against his chest. She felt small, so small, uncertain and unmoored - no idea who she was supposed to be now. Or what she was supposed to do. And if she was honest with herself, for just that moment, she didn’t want to attempt to figure it out. She crowded even closer with the arm around her, shivering a little even though she was (for once) warm in a way that had nothing to do with the Las Vegas weather.
She knew, in the logical, ordered part of her mind (small though it sometimes seemed) that in that moment, they couldn’t be doctor and patient. There were laws and restrictions, judgments and rules that prevented this sort of conduct. But she found herself hard-pressed to bring them up at the moment. Later. There was always later. After the world had righted itself again and she could think past the screaming and fear in her mind. One of her hands uncurled, and (without opening her eyes) she laid it palm-down over his chest, able to feel the even thud of his heartbeat, strong and steady and regular. The slow metronome beat of it was lulling, the stress finally breaking its toll over her, and though she still trembled, she also grew heavier against Toby’s side as she quietly slipped into sleep.