InsaneJournal

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{BUFFY} vampire slayer (i_diedtwice) wrote in we_coexist,
@ 2011-01-02 01:08:00

Entry tags:

buffy summers, in arkham, john watson

The Tragic Case of Buffy Summers (Narrative/Open!)
Buffy Summers spent the majority of her time at Arkham Asylum in a catatonic state. Each day a pair of orderlies would bring her out into the commons, seating her at a table. The young woman spent hours in her chair completely motionless, frozen with her face arranged in a troubled expression. She looked so concerned, so deep in thought until, usually another patient with a sense of humor, took her arms and posed her ridiculously-- positions Buffy could hold the entire day until she was put back in her cell for the night.

Most days Buffy was silent. There were rare occasions, however, when the slayer would say some meaningless phrase, repeated over the course of the day. Phrases like, My skin should crack and peel, or, Don't give me songs. Sometimes she merely repeated what was said to her.

Every two hours, a nurse would attend to the slayer, taking a needle to her arm and injecting her with an unknown substance. Except today.

Today, Buffy was left alone in the commons for four hours. After missing two doses of the drug cocktail she was regularly given, her eyes fluttered open as if waking for the first time. She placed a hand on her head suffering from throbbing pain and intense light sensitivity. For the first time since Buffy had been placed in the asylum she was able to process her surroundings, of the people next to her. She looked down at the white linen clothing she wore, unable to recall when she'd been dressed.

"Where am I?" Only after she asked did the slayer power through her migraine to see if someone nearby could answer her question.

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i_blog
2011-01-02 05:21 pm UTC (link)

John Watson knew a losing situation when he saw it. Lord knew he'd seen enough of them; he was a soldier and a doctor, and he knew when to give up on an unsuccessful strategy and try a new one.

Struggling had been a poor strategy. He'd tried it first, by instinct, as he came out of the drugged haze. The last thing he recalled was being strapped inside an explosive vest, so naturally when he woke in a hospital bed he'd thought he'd lost some limbs. The frantic counting of arms and toes - and the elevated heart rate that accompanied it - drew a small army of nurses who wouldn't answer his questions. They told him to rest and, when he tried to argue, they sedated him and gave him no choice.

It wasn't until later that he realized they thought he was mad. Most of the people in the hospital seemed a little mad; once he calmed the doctors had given him free reign and he'd had an opportunity to see some of them. Some stared into space. Some screamed and fought. It was enough to unsettle a man, but Watson decided early to keep his calm.

He'd act like a sane man and they'd realize their mistake. He still had faith in doctors; whatever lies Sherlock's shadowy nemesis had told to land him in the asylum would crumble in the face of medical truth. Until then? He'd cooperate. He'd take his pills, he'd shuffle down into the common space, he'd watch bad telly and he'd talk to the more coherent of the other patients.

It was boring, but he kept telling himself that it was temporary. Today's fare? A game show that he didn't recognize - possibly some American show (or, though he didn't realize it, the City's take on The Price is Right). John stopped watching about ten minutes in and began amusing himself by examining the others in the room. He wasn't a psychologist by training and he wasn't half the detective that Sherlock was, but trying to deduce things about the others passed the time. It was also far more helpful than learning the cost of a packet of cigarettes and imitation butter.

Because he was watching the others, Watson was aware when Buffy came out of her stupor and seemed to notice her surroundings. He frowned, slipped from his seat, and strode quietly over to take a seat at her table. "I don't know," he answered truthfully. "Judging from the programme on the television, certainly not Maudsley." He bit his lip, trying to recall some famous American mental hospitals - McLean? Then he thought the better of it and, rather than frighten the girl, he tried another approach. "It's a hospital. Where do you last remember being?"

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i_diedtwice
2011-01-02 09:51 pm UTC (link)

"Uh..." Buffy was obviously startled by the appearance of the stranger in the hospital. It took her a few moments of numb recollection to realize he was not a doctor but a patient like herself. It helped that he had an honest face.

"I was at home. Asleep."

Buffy visually searched her surroundings for signs of a clock or a calendar to detirmine how long she'd been out of it but the walls were mostly empty, save the tiny public television.

"I'm really not supposed to be here." Buffy protested quietly, certain she didn't want there conversation to be overheard until she knew what was going on.

((Written on my nook at work. I am hardkore.))