Chapter Text
Anna Woods's mother was visiting again. The only window in the small room, where Allen Novak sat, was securely shut, secured with Iron bars. He remembered a time when he -as a young man who'd barely had any true experience with this kind of environment at the time- had thought those bars unnecessary. That was, until he'd seen a patient of only twenty years old manage to squeeze herself through the west tower's window and plummet to an early grave.
No, the window at the wall to his far left was shut and secure.
Which made it all the more frustrating that he could still hear Ms. Woods's muffled, accusatory screaming. He would certainly need to have a word with her Dr. Brenan to see whether he thought these visits from Ms. Woods's mother were necessary, or whether the man simply found it amusing to disrupt the work of others.
Allen sighed, pushing the ever sliding glasses back up the bridge of his nose as he turned his attention to more pressing matters. Like the very peculiar case of the man sitting in the chair opposite him, broad back turned so he was facing the securely shut window.
"How're we feeling today, Mr. Smith?"
"I am fine, Dr. Novak. Not going to dangle from a noose any time soon," Mr. Smith said in a flat voice, not bothering to turn his attention from the window, "If you'd please tell your assistant not to be so concerned…"
"That's strange. She hasn't bothered to voice those concerns to me," Allen said.
After a little more than six months worth of sessions with the man, he didn't really expect this conversation to be in any way friendly. Polite, certainly. But friendly? No, not with Smith's way of exerting dominance in any given situation. That much Allen had noted from the accounts of those closest to the man, and from his disinterested, almost detached mannerism whenever Allen came for one of their 'talks'. As if he were a nuisance in Smith's busy schedule. As if Smith, ever gracious and cordial, was donating a good chunk of his time to Allen and his childish questions.
Allen flipped through the pages of his notepad, and said, "I won't offend you by assuming you're excited to see me today, but, as always, the sooner we get through with this..."
"The sooner we can go home and sit in our favourite armchair, enjoying a cold Budweiser. Of course, Dr. Novak," Erwin's head turned almost mechanically to watch him with his usual, polite disinterest.
"Well then, you'll be glad to hear that I've planned something a bit different for today," Allen sat up straighter in his chair, flipping his notebook to an empty page and placing it in his lap, "I was hoping today might just be the day we moved away from the past and a little closer to your present situation"
"Which is far brighter, I suppose," Erwin said as he pushed himself to the wall, keeping a straight posture with his legs stretched on the bed, "I heard something very interesting about Northern Bridge a couple of days ago. Do you want me to share?"
Allen suppressed a sigh and the incessant urge to take his glasses off and rub at his eyes. A nasty habit, his wife would say. But then she wasn't spending more than half her waking day trying to creep into the minds of murderers. He'd rub his eyes as much as he wanted, thank you very much.
"Why not?" Allen gave a tight lipped smile, "It's always nice to hear people's opinions on the hospital. Gives us ideas on how to improve it."
"Do you know what most people say about Northern Bridge, Allen? 'Most people who go to the Bridge, never come back'," Erwin rested his chin in the palm of his one, good hand, "I'm not sure how you'll be able to fix that."
Smith wasn't the first patient to express his distaste for the hospital and most -if not everyone- in it. However he certainly was the only one who could make Allen's skin crawl when he did.
"Why do you think they say that?" Allen said.
"Well, I heard many doctors from this elite private hospital are very good at neurosurgical procedures. Or at "Turning the mind inside out", if you are more comfortable with a friendlier term," He chuckled, deep and throaty, as if he had told the joke of the year.
"I can't say I'm very fond of such procedures," Allen tapped his pen against the notepad, his face as passive as possible, "Are you?"
"Did you know that Rosemary Kennedy was left permanently incapacitated after a lobotomy gone wrong? Her mental capacity diminished to that of a two-year-old. But of course, it cured her of the violent mood swings, much to her father's relief. Such a tragic story of could-haves and might-have-beens, wouldn't you agree?"
"Very tragic. I tend to agree more with Snorre Wohlfahrt's opinion on them rather than Freeman's," Allen said, "If I may ask, Mr. Smith, what is it that's gotten you so interested in that particular surgical procedure all of a sudden?"
"I'm not sure," His thick eyebrows knitted in centration, a wave of fine lines appearing on his forehead, "I might have lent an ear to foul rumors."
"Controversy makes for interesting conversation, and lobotomy is a very controversial topic in the field of psychology right now. It's perfectly natural for you to be interested," Allen said, "And, of course, we're here to talk about whatever you'd like to talk about. Whatever you find interesting"
"Life has been mundane lately, Dr. Novak. I am afraid I just can't seem to find anything to pique my interest lately," Erwin sighed and tilted his head to the side, like a huge bird looking in the distance. A predatory bird, "But I would be more than happy to have a conversation with you."
"I'm glad to hear that," Allen moved his eyes to his notepad for a minute, his pen scratching against the rough paper in such a comforting melody as he scribbled the date. His eyes flicked up to catch Erwin's from under the rims of his glasses, "I was hoping we could talk about Levi today"
Erwin offered Allen a curious look, eyes crinkling at the corners as they narrowed, as if he were trying to remember something, "Didn't we drop that subject already? I thought you said it wouldn't lead us anywhere."
"No, I strictly remember saying it wouldn't have led us anywhere had we discussed it back then when we'd just met and knew close to nothing about each other. As it is, we've known each other for quite a few months now. But" Allen pushed his glasses back up the bridge of his nose before they could tumbled off, "we won't discuss anything you don't feel ready to talk about"
After a few moments of complete silence, Erwin finally shrugged, pulling his knees to his chest and resting his chin on them, "But doesn't it all feel repetitive to you, Allen? I talk, you listen. Maybe because I tell an interesting story, maybe because that's your job. I believe that's called 'incremental repetition'."
"Repetition isn't always a waste of time, Mr. Smith. Sometimes, important details are brought to our attention by repetition. You may feel as though you're going through the same story over and over again, but that's merely because you're the one telling that story. The listener's the one who picks up the new details," Allen held the pen between two long fingers, "That's why I think we should start from the beginning. Before you met your late wife."
"Before I met my late wife, I was already a good way down the road to ruin, Dr. Novak. I had my head set on drinking my mind away, so I apologize if I can't give you as many details as you might like," Erwin paused and lifted a finger, "Oh, and just one thing before we start."
"What would those be?"
"Tell Molly I said hi if you happen to see her. We had some interesting conversations during her graveyard shift," Erwin's lips quirked up in a coy smile as he moved his eyes suggestively to the door "Lavender or whatever the new nurse's name is...I don't like her. So just send Molly my best regards, won't you?"
Six months into their sessions, and Smith still found new ways to try and throw him off his feet. It's times like these when Allen thanked God for the passive, monochrome face his wife often said he was cursed with.
Allen brought his own lips into a smile and gave a curt nod, "Of course. Molly was a delightful young lady. But I'm sure this new nurse only needs a few days to fit in. For all we know, she might simply be shy, and the tough exterior is just a defense mechanism".
"Perhaps. I, for once, would rather trust my instincts. Maybe I am paranoid. Maybe life has just pushed me face first into the mud more times than I would have liked. I don't think anyone's too interested in hearing about that though." Mr. Smith let out a long, drawn out sigh, his eyes catching Allen's in an iron grip. "No, I am sure everyone is just itching to hear about him instead"