ONE NORMAL LIFE / TWO EXTRAORDINARY LIVES
folder
BtVS AU/AR › Het - Male/Female › Buffy/Spike(William)
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
210
Views:
10,626
Reviews:
182
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
BtVS AU/AR › Het - Male/Female › Buffy/Spike(William)
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
210
Views:
10,626
Reviews:
182
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Buffy the Vampire Slayer (BtVS), nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
T-REX VERSUS AN ICTHYOSAUR
CHAPTER 32 - T-REX VERSUS AN ICTHYOSAUR
May 25, 2008
"Well, that's about it," Dr. Forrest said, signing the bottom of the chart and handing his patient over to the psych department extern for evaluation.
"We popped his shoulder back in place, the bullet was removed from his thigh, and he'll still have to wear the sling for his fractured elbow for a couple of weeks, but otherwise, I think he'd be better served upstairs," Dr. Forrest said.
"Heard about this fellow. Found naked at the museum, eh? Thinks it's 1880, too?"
"Yeah, everything is freaking him out, doesn't act like he's ever seen anything we have here, not a TV, not an intercom, not the buttons on the bed that make them go up and down, not anything. He's definitely one of yours!"
"Dr. Turner is looking forward to looking at this fellow," said the extern.
"Well, tell him to call me if he has any questions and good luck!"
"William," Dr. Forrest said, coming back in to his patient's bedside, "you're being moved over to psych for evaluation now, they'll take good care of you!"
"I'm not crazy, I'm not crazy, I'm not crazy!" William said, as he'd begun to yesterday.
"Nobody said you were, William, you're just confused. Come on now, be a good boy, going for a ride in the nice wheelchair," said the extern, as he helped the man out of the bed and into the chair.
Dr. Forrest shook his head as he walked back over to the nurses station and finished filling out his paperwork.
June 8, 2003
William stood at his barred window, looking out at the grassy behind the hospital. He had never been in such a tall building before. They told him he was on the 10thor, or, or about 120 feet up. It was almost time for his appointment with Dr.Turner. He had been meeting with him everyday, and actually looked a bit forward to it, if only to break up the monotony.
Every day he was allowed out of his room to go to recreational therapy, where he could work with clay, do little crafts, or play a game of what was called pool, and to socialize with the other patients, but he kept mostly to themselves. A few of them had tried to befriend him, but besides whatever ailed them mentally, making it difficult, their frames of reference were always so different from his, that after a couple of minutes, even the craziest ones, looked at him like he was from another planet and wandered off.
Even when he was where (he thought) he remembered of being, 'back home,' he'd always felt the odd one, out of place, but to be in a mental institution, and be the oddest of the odd...he did und understand. What was wrong with him?
When he'd first gone to see Dr.Turner, he didn't say anything, but after the third day, he started opening up about what he remembered of his life. Dr. Turner didn't seem to judge him or think him crazy. Plus, he had read some of the same books that William had read and he enjoyed discussing them with him. On the fourth day, he gave William a book of poetry that William had read through completely that same night. Dr. Turner had asked him the next day which he liked best and asked him why. They discussed the various poems and the styles of the writers. That day he gave William a blank notebook and told him to write his thougths down, or poems, stories, whatever he would like. William took the book back with him to his room and began a diary.
I've been in the hospital almost two weeks and I don't know how I got here. I know I was naked at The Field Museum, and that I'm in Chicago, IL USA, but I don't know how I got here.
I'm told that it is the year 2008, but it all seems like some horrible joke to me. I only have memories up to the year 1880, or so it would seem. I remember most clearly my room at home. I remember mother, Henry, my old school, the party I was at, and lovely Cecily. This is when my memory seems to stop.
If I truly remember these things, then it can't be 2008. If it was, I'd be 156 years old! And of course, when I look in the mirror, I know that can't be right. So why can't I remember anything? Lights, phones, planes, computers, automobiles, medicine, countries, World War II, World War I, any wars since before 1880? Anything after 1880?
I'm afraid that I'm very ill and that somewhere I have a family that is worried about me, or worse, that I have no family. Nobody to tell me if my memories are totallly false, nobody to..." he put down the book, unable to go on.
The next day, at Dr. Turner's request, he shared the book with him.
Dr.Turner had decided that it would be a good idea to start working with William's delusions.
"You know, William," he began, after reading his entry, "sometimes a person is so traumatized by something that has happened in his life, that he recedes into his mind, to a place that's easier to live in."
"You think that's what's happened to me? That I've beentrautraumatized that I now think I'm living in 1880 instead of 2008?" William asked.
"I don't know," Dr. Turner said, gently to his patient, "but somehow you're lost in time, you don't remember anything that's happened to you in the past 28 years. Well, at least what should have been from 1980 to the present, for you to be 28 now."
"You tell me you were born in 1852, but like you said in your journal, that would make you 156 years old, and really, William," he said smiling, "you don't much look a day over 26, 27, tops, to me!"
William put his head in his hands, as he bent over in the chair, "I don't remember," he said, plaintively, in a voice that hurt the young doctor to hear.
"Look, William," he said, as he came over to his side and put his hand on his shoulder, "the mind is a funny thing. Sometimes, things that to others are not so traumatic, get blown up inside our minds to some gigantic monster that runs off with our sanity, when really, most the time, they're only little montsters."
"Like the T-Rex, versus the icthyosaur?" William asked.
"Yes, that's a good analogy, William," he said, smiling at his patients use of what he had just supposedly learned of the dinosaur inside the museum, thought he supposed, that trapped inside his mind was all sorts of knowledge about many things, both new and old.
"Well, you keep writing. Maybe you'll remember something as you go along, and we'll talk again tomorrow," Dr. Turner said.
END CHAPTER 32
May 25, 2008
"Well, that's about it," Dr. Forrest said, signing the bottom of the chart and handing his patient over to the psych department extern for evaluation.
"We popped his shoulder back in place, the bullet was removed from his thigh, and he'll still have to wear the sling for his fractured elbow for a couple of weeks, but otherwise, I think he'd be better served upstairs," Dr. Forrest said.
"Heard about this fellow. Found naked at the museum, eh? Thinks it's 1880, too?"
"Yeah, everything is freaking him out, doesn't act like he's ever seen anything we have here, not a TV, not an intercom, not the buttons on the bed that make them go up and down, not anything. He's definitely one of yours!"
"Dr. Turner is looking forward to looking at this fellow," said the extern.
"Well, tell him to call me if he has any questions and good luck!"
"William," Dr. Forrest said, coming back in to his patient's bedside, "you're being moved over to psych for evaluation now, they'll take good care of you!"
"I'm not crazy, I'm not crazy, I'm not crazy!" William said, as he'd begun to yesterday.
"Nobody said you were, William, you're just confused. Come on now, be a good boy, going for a ride in the nice wheelchair," said the extern, as he helped the man out of the bed and into the chair.
Dr. Forrest shook his head as he walked back over to the nurses station and finished filling out his paperwork.
June 8, 2003
William stood at his barred window, looking out at the grassy behind the hospital. He had never been in such a tall building before. They told him he was on the 10thor, or, or about 120 feet up. It was almost time for his appointment with Dr.Turner. He had been meeting with him everyday, and actually looked a bit forward to it, if only to break up the monotony.
Every day he was allowed out of his room to go to recreational therapy, where he could work with clay, do little crafts, or play a game of what was called pool, and to socialize with the other patients, but he kept mostly to themselves. A few of them had tried to befriend him, but besides whatever ailed them mentally, making it difficult, their frames of reference were always so different from his, that after a couple of minutes, even the craziest ones, looked at him like he was from another planet and wandered off.
Even when he was where (he thought) he remembered of being, 'back home,' he'd always felt the odd one, out of place, but to be in a mental institution, and be the oddest of the odd...he did und understand. What was wrong with him?
When he'd first gone to see Dr.Turner, he didn't say anything, but after the third day, he started opening up about what he remembered of his life. Dr. Turner didn't seem to judge him or think him crazy. Plus, he had read some of the same books that William had read and he enjoyed discussing them with him. On the fourth day, he gave William a book of poetry that William had read through completely that same night. Dr. Turner had asked him the next day which he liked best and asked him why. They discussed the various poems and the styles of the writers. That day he gave William a blank notebook and told him to write his thougths down, or poems, stories, whatever he would like. William took the book back with him to his room and began a diary.
I've been in the hospital almost two weeks and I don't know how I got here. I know I was naked at The Field Museum, and that I'm in Chicago, IL USA, but I don't know how I got here.
I'm told that it is the year 2008, but it all seems like some horrible joke to me. I only have memories up to the year 1880, or so it would seem. I remember most clearly my room at home. I remember mother, Henry, my old school, the party I was at, and lovely Cecily. This is when my memory seems to stop.
If I truly remember these things, then it can't be 2008. If it was, I'd be 156 years old! And of course, when I look in the mirror, I know that can't be right. So why can't I remember anything? Lights, phones, planes, computers, automobiles, medicine, countries, World War II, World War I, any wars since before 1880? Anything after 1880?
I'm afraid that I'm very ill and that somewhere I have a family that is worried about me, or worse, that I have no family. Nobody to tell me if my memories are totallly false, nobody to..." he put down the book, unable to go on.
The next day, at Dr. Turner's request, he shared the book with him.
Dr.Turner had decided that it would be a good idea to start working with William's delusions.
"You know, William," he began, after reading his entry, "sometimes a person is so traumatized by something that has happened in his life, that he recedes into his mind, to a place that's easier to live in."
"You think that's what's happened to me? That I've beentrautraumatized that I now think I'm living in 1880 instead of 2008?" William asked.
"I don't know," Dr. Turner said, gently to his patient, "but somehow you're lost in time, you don't remember anything that's happened to you in the past 28 years. Well, at least what should have been from 1980 to the present, for you to be 28 now."
"You tell me you were born in 1852, but like you said in your journal, that would make you 156 years old, and really, William," he said smiling, "you don't much look a day over 26, 27, tops, to me!"
William put his head in his hands, as he bent over in the chair, "I don't remember," he said, plaintively, in a voice that hurt the young doctor to hear.
"Look, William," he said, as he came over to his side and put his hand on his shoulder, "the mind is a funny thing. Sometimes, things that to others are not so traumatic, get blown up inside our minds to some gigantic monster that runs off with our sanity, when really, most the time, they're only little montsters."
"Like the T-Rex, versus the icthyosaur?" William asked.
"Yes, that's a good analogy, William," he said, smiling at his patients use of what he had just supposedly learned of the dinosaur inside the museum, thought he supposed, that trapped inside his mind was all sorts of knowledge about many things, both new and old.
"Well, you keep writing. Maybe you'll remember something as you go along, and we'll talk again tomorrow," Dr. Turner said.
END CHAPTER 32