Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

He felt lightheaded. His hands were slick with blood. Pain lanced through his stomach. He fought the spinning of his head to heave himself up to his knees. The street light filtered through the rain and gave the whole night a hazy glow.

Lights and sirens ebbed into his consciousness. No! I can’t go back! A knife sparkled in the dim light about ten feet away from him. He crawled forward, arm extended. His entire body felt wrong, like he was trudging through molasses. Six feet. He clinched his teeth against the pain in his bones. He felt his breath hitch against his shattered ribs.

Four feet. “Do not reach for that weapon, or you may be shot!” The order rang out from his left. The officer’s voice rang out in Pope’s head like the crack of a whip. He collapsed in a puddle as nausea overcame him. Bile mixed with blood, rainwater, and the sludge of this unknown city. He dry heaved as the officer approached and took the knife. 

“Do you have any weapons on you? What happened?” The officer’s voice was still loud. Still commanding. His gun was still pointed in Pope’s direction. Pope heard the bee deep of a handheld radio keying up. Voices muffled with rain and pounding in his head. He heaved again and growled in pain that shook through his body. 

“Hey, man,” The officer’s voice was softer or maybe a different person entirely. “My partner is running to grab a first aid kit. An ambulance is on the way. Stay calm for me, okay?” 

Pope’s vision was narrowing. He could only see the rain beating down on the pavement in front of him. When did the rain start? Had it been raining the whole time? He started to shake. Or just noticed that his hands were shaking. Was this because of the adrenaline? The drugs? Or the cold that was sliding under his skin with every drop of water? 

A person kneeled in front of him, and shouting could be heard. He saw a gloved hand reach out for him, and he fell backwards. He looked around again for the knife. The knife. He was so close to it. Where did it go? No! I can’t go back! I’m not going back. 

He was surrounded by people now. All of them are talking and pulling things from bags. One of them reached for him, “My name is Lainey, I’m with the Pittsburgh Ambulance Service. I’m here to help. What’s your name?” Pope stared at her. He looked her up and down. Lainey’s face alternated red and blue as lights flashed from the truck. Then, to the other people surrounding him. They all wore dark pants and light blue shirts. No body armor. No tasers. No guns. 

“Not police? No police. Hey, it's got buttons!” Pope tried to swat away a hand that sliced the front of his shirt all the way open. 

“Sir, we are trying to make sure you're okay. You’re bleeding a lot, and we need to get you to the hospital. Do you have any allergies to medications?”

Pope tried to stand but couldn’t even get his legs under him. They were putting him on a gurney. His head swam again as they rolled him to the ambulance. 

“Have you taken any drugs?” The paramedics were still asking questions. Still probing him. 

“The stuff from Folsom. It was something like that.” His tongue fought against him with every consonant. He tried to reach into his pocket for the pill bottles Smurf had given him. It wasn’t working. His hand felt so heavy and cold. “Pocket. Some are in my pocket.”

The medic, Laura? Lucy? Felt his pockets and worked the pill bottles out of his sopping wet jeans. 

“When was the last time you took this?” Lainey asked.

He felt the prick of a needle in his left arm and roared with anger. “NO! No! Don’t make me like Julia! I don’t want it!” The medics piled onto him as he thrashed against the IV. They pulled back, and his arms were restrained to the gurney. Other straps held down his legs and torso. Those had been there for a while, right? Since they put him on the gurney in the first place?

He tossed his head and yelled at Smurf standing by his side. “I don’t want it! I miss her! You killed her!”

He was barely conscious as they rolled into the ambulance bay. The bright lights of the hospital sent him into another nausea tailspin, but not enough to vomit. He didn’t have anything left in his stomach anyway. Smurf was standing in the corner, watching and waiting. More people surrounded him. They moved him from the gurney to the hospital bed and jostled his ribs. He cried out again.

“I’m Dr. Robinavich at Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Center. Can you tell us your name?” There were too many people to pinpoint who was speaking. His eyes were closed against the bright lights anyway.

“Pope. ‘m Pope.” words were ever harder to say now than they had been in the ambulance. 

“Okay, Pope, looks like you took quite a beating out there. Looks like you’ve been stabbed too, which means you’re losing a lot of blood. We're going to do what we can to help you out.” They were sticking things to his chest, touching him, cutting his clothes away. The computer was beeping nonstop. His hands were free. He covered his ears and clenched his eyes. 

“Pope, the paramedic said you took some psychiatric medications and that someone gave you some other stuff. What did they give you?” 

He couldn’t answer. His vision had narrowed completely, and the rushing in his ears overwhelmed him. Heat now smothered him as his body and mind went slack. The darkness that took him now felt peaceful and quiet.

Chapter Text

When Pope woke, he wasn’t surrounded by as many people. He wasn’t getting poked and prodded. The lights were still bright, and the incessant beeping of the computer beside him still made him grit his teeth. He wore an itchy hospital gown that made his skin crawl. His head felt muddied and lost. Looking to the side, he saw a grey-haired nurse checking on him. He had a kind, yet firm look about him. Pope didn’t say anything. Just watched. He felt too out of it to care. 

The nurse turned to look at him after recording his notes and smiled. “Are you awake? I can go get the doctor for you or give you a few minutes to wake up.” 

Pope didn’t say anything. Just nodded and shifted to sit up. He gasped as aches and pains shot through his system, overpowering any drugs pumping through him. The nurse helped him sit up a little, gave him some ice chips, and went to find a doctor. 

Pope sat there fidgeting and waited for the doctor. He stilled as a tall, lean man with dark hair came in, followed by a woman with glasses and mousy brown hair, and the nurse from before. He also noticed that the security guard was conveniently standing close to the door, but casually looking away from his room. 

The doctors stood by his side but kept their hands by their sides or on the tablet she carried. The nurse took his ice chips from him and stood on the opposite side from the doctors. Pope shifted again, feeling suddenly claustrophobic. He knew they were afraid of him. He understood why they should be. It didn’t make it hurt less.

“Hello, I’m Dr. Langdon, this is Dr. King, and this is Nurse Jesse. Can you tell us your name?” The doctor spoke softly, not with the loud authority from when he was brought in. He gestured slowly to the three of them as they were introduced. Pope looked at them closely. They didn’t seem like they wanted to hurt him. 

“Pope.”

Doctor King hesitated. “Is that uh, is that your name or your title?” She had a nervous sort of smile and very concerned eyes. 

“Andrew Cody. People call me Pope. There's only one pope. I'm not him.” Pope was looking at them, confused. They knew the pope was Argentine and lived in Italy. They had to know that. He also didn’t have an American accent.

Doctor King smiled warmly, “I understand now. Pope is a nickname.” He nodded once in agreement. “Would you prefer us call you by your legal name or your nickname?”

He shrugged. He never got the choice anyway. 

“Do you know where we are right now?” Doctor Langdon asked. 

“Your badge says ‘Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Center. Emergency Department.’ I’m in a hospital.” Pope kept his hands in loose fists on his thighs. He wasn’t handcuffed to the bed, and it was only the security guard outside. Maybe he wasn’t in trouble yet. 

“Yeah, that's correct. Do you know how you got here?” The tall doctor asked. 

Pope thought about it for a moment. He remembered the flashing lights, Smurf sitting beside him in the ambulance, the thuds as the car hit pot holes, causing him and everything else in the trunk to get knocked around. 

“Ambulance.” Yells and running feet rushed through the emergency room outside, and Pope winced before he could remember to hide the discomfort on his face. The nurse popped his head out to see if he was needed, then returned to his side. 

“Yeah, an ambulance brought you after they found you bleeding out on the street. Do you know what happened before they picked you up?” Pope’s head swam again, and he could feel the color drain from his face. The nurse was lightning fast as he pushed a barf bag into his hands. Nothing but yellow-green bile came up. His body dry heaved several times before he could convince it that there was nothing to expel. He shook his head. The memories only came in flashes and he was still trying to sort them into reality or fiction. 

Pope thanked the nurse as he switched out the barf bag for a fresh one ‘just in case’. Pope shook his head. He couldn’t believe the images swirling through his head. 

“Mr. Cody, your injuries are pretty severe. You have what appears to be a grazing bullet wound, a stab wound and cuts with a sharp knife, three cracked ribs, a small fracture of the orbital bone- essentially your eye socket- and you have ligature marks on your wrists, ankles, and neck. This doesn’t look like a typical street fight. Are you sure you don’t remember anything?” Doctor Langdon listed his injuries with a careful leveled voice. 

Pope looked down at his wrists. He remembered the zip ties, then because they knew he could get out of them, the duck tape over top. He didn’t know how he managed to survive all of those injuries. It should have been a single round to the back of his head. They were too cowardly, he realized. They would rather him bleed out and die in a random city than kill him themselves. Cowards. Every. Single. One. Of. Them.

“No.” His voice sounded smaller than it usually did. He wanted to know what was going on. He needed to get off of the pain killers they were giving him so that maybe he could think a little better.

“There were empty pill bottles in your pockets. Are you under the care of a psychiatrist?” This was the woman, Doctor King, speaking now, pulling him from his revere. Her voice was warm and loosened the gravel that his mind seemed to be filled with. Pope shook his head again. Tears pricked his eyes. 

“How did you get those pills?” Another round of shouting emanated from the hallway, and he jumped in surprise. His hands moved to his ears again as he tried to curl up on the bed, despite the pain it caused. The nurse and Dr. Langdon moved to keep him still and to calm him down. Doctor King stood and shut the door. She dimmed the lights and pulled the curtain across the window. The relief was immediate. The two doctors nodded at each other briefly as he calmed and eased back on the bed. 

Pope breathed heavily for a minute, trying to calm down before they thought he was crazy. Doctor Langdon asked another question, “Why were you taking those pills? We’re not the police, we just want to know so we can help you.”

Pope tried to relax. He tried to look at the doctors when they were speaking. It was so hard to make himself do anything he was supposed to do. He mumbled, “My mom. She makes me take them so I don’t hurt people.”

He caught the glances that all three people gave each other. He wondered if they would call the security guard in here. The tall security guard had a taser, baton, flashlight, radio, and handcuffs. He didn’t see a gun, but it wasn’t impossible for him to have one. He didn’t want the security guard in here, taking up more of the precious space in the room, but he would understand if they did. He wondered if he had already hurt them or one of their colleagues. 

“Do um. Do you want to hurt people?” Dr. King asked. She looked so concerned for him. Her brows knit together, and her mouth formed a tight line. She was breaking eye contact roughly every twenty seconds or so. The other two just kept watching him. 

He shook his head. He wondered if maintaining eye contact with his “resting bitch face,” as Deran called it, was helping his case. He knew he looked intimidating. That was part of his job. He looked down at his hands and shook his head more earnestly this time. 

“When was the last time you took the Clozapine and Thioridazine?” 

“I don’t know, with breakfast on June 30th. I had six left. I was going to ask her for more when I saw her for lunch.” 

“Were you taking them regularly before that?” Dr. King had taken over most of the questioning. He liked that. Her voice was nice. 

Pope nodded. “I followed the directions on the bottle. Before that, I don’t know how much she was giving me. She put it in my food.” 

Doctor Langdon spoke over whatever Doctor King was going to say. “Mr. Cody, you’re only supposed to take psychiatric medications under the supervision of a doctor. The medication and dosage are really important to the individual and can have very adverse side effects if taken incorrectly. It’s incredibly dangerous to take medication without a prescription.” Doctor King and Nurse Jesse looked at Doctor Langdon and then quickly away. 

“I didn’t have a choice. I don’t want to hurt people.”

The doctors abandoned that specific line of questioning. “You told the ambulance crew that someone gave you something that you took in Folsom. That's a prison in California, right?” Pope nodded. His eye contact was back. He wondered if he should look away while talking about prison to make himself less intimidating to doctors or if he should try to intimidate them to get more medication. 

“Do you remember what they gave you in Folsom? And why?”

Pope shook his head. “I don’t know the name. It was too much, though. It turned my brain to mush. Kept me from fighting.” -back. Kept me from fighting back. The words tumbled in his head as he tried to push them away. 

“When did you get out of prison?” Dr. King asked.

“Six months ago.” The color drained from his face, and he frantically looked around. He patted his thighs, then looked under the blanket, but saw he was only in a gown. Then he looked for his jeans. They had cut off his jeans; maybe his phone was in there. 

The three medical practitioners stepped forward again. “Please don’t move, Mr. Cody, you’ll hurt yourself.” 

“No, no. I was doing good. I need to call my parole officer. I can’t go back. I need to call him.” He couldn’t find his phone. He didn’t have his phone. That's okay. It’s okay, there’s a wall phone. He could use that. 

“Mr. Cody, if you do not calm down, you will be sedated. We are trying to help you. Do you understand?” Doctor Langdon’s voice shot through him. No, he didn't want to be sedated. Not again. Pope stiffened, going completely still, except for the muscle in his jaw clenching and unclenching.

The door opened, and the curtain was drawn back. The security guard stood there, tall and intimidating. If it were a match between Pope on a normal day and the security guard, Pope thought he would win. This wasn't a normal day, though; he was doped up on painkillers, nauseous, and injured. Pope immediately clocked that he didn’t have a gun, and relief went through him. Only non-lethal options then. “Everything good in here?” The guard and Pope stared at each other for a second. Then his eyes moved to the doctors and the nurse, checking with each of them in turn. 

“We’re good, Ahmad. Thank you.” Doctor Langdon called, his eyes never leaving Pope. The security guard looked him up and down again, then half closed the curtain and exited the room, shutting the door behind him. 

“Why don’t we finish with our questions, and then we can see what we can do about calling your parole officer, okay? When is the next meeting scheduled?” Doctor King was back to speaking in soft voices. Like he was a wounded animal.

“The 4th. 8:00 in the morning. What day is it?” Pope looked up, hopeful that he hadn’t missed it yet.

“In California?” Nurse Jesse asked. Pope nodded. 

“It's July 4th.” Doctor Langdon said. 

The nurse checked his watch, looked up, and thought for a moment, then said, “It's 0715, Pacific Time.” He told the doctors. Pope’s heart shuddered in his chest. There was no way he could get from the East Coast to the West in less than an hour. His phone would be blowing up any minute now, wherever it was. 

“Hey, do you know his number? After we’re done here, we can try to call him. Let him know that you’re stuck in a hospital, okay?” Pope nodded and took the pen and paper Nurse Jesse provided. He wrote down the number quickly. Nice pen. I would love to keep it. He turned the pen over to look at the brand. Then handed it back to the nurse before they thought he was trying to steal it and make a shiv or something. The nurse took it quickly but not unkindly. He read the numbers out loud to make sure he could read Pope’s handwriting.

“How does it feel with and without the medication you were taking?” Doctor Langdon asked as Doctor King took the sheet of paper and put it in her pocket. 

“With it, I feel like my head is underwater. It gets harder to feel things. Like I’m swimming through the feelings and thoughts, not having them. Without, I feel angry. And sad. All the time. It gets too overwhelming.” He didn’t know why he was telling them so much. Maybe it was the continent between him and his family. Maybe it was how they discarded him like trash in an unknown city. Maybe it was to make up for all the things he never usually got to say. Maybe it was the doctor turning down the lights, shutting the door, and looking like they actually care.

“Okay, okay, we can work with that. Thank you for telling us. After we’re done here, we would like to bring someone down to talk to you more about this. Would you be open to that?”  Pope stared out the window of the room. The security guard, Ahmad, still stood vigilant outside. Would having a doctor prescribe medication instead of his mother attempting to drug him with some poor man’s stolen pills actually help? The Folsom doctor said he was helping too. Pope knew he was only helping himself to a drugged and beaten Pope who didn’t have his wits about him. 

“Would they be able to help? Really help?” 

“Maybe. It's going to take some trial and error, and I’m not an expert, but I think they can help.” Doctor King seemed so genuine. She had a soft, warm smile but sad eyes. Doctor Langdon nodded in agreement. His arms were crossed, but not in the aggressive way he was used to seeing. He was looking between Pope and Doctor King. His face wasn’t warm, but he did seem to care. He hadn’t made the security guard pin him down and cuff him to the bed. He and the nurse had barely even touched him when he tried to get up. 

“We can let you think on it for a bit. No need to answer now. Mind if we examine you? You have several cracked ribs with severe bruising and a stab wound that we need to check on.” Doctor Langdon talked with his hands, then promptly returned them to their natural place in his armpits. They all waited for his answer. They didn’t force him to lie back on the bed. Didn’t force him to be restrained. They waited. 

He wanted to say no. He instinctively started to shake his head, but stopped himself. “Are you going to knock me out if I say no? Like in Folsom?” Nurse Jesse’s eyebrows shot up, and his head whipped up from where he was typing on the computer. Doctor King and Doctor Langdon stumbled over an explanation; they paused and looked at each other. 

Doctor Langdon recovered first, “Um no, it looked good when we closed you up, and thus far your vitals don’t seem to be concerning.” He looked over at the monitor as if confirming, “If you really didn’t want us to examine you, we would ask a few more questions and then leave. We would be back to check on you to make sure you don’t take a turn for the worse, but we would do our best to respect your wishes. Though if you don’t let us examine you, we can’t provide you with adequate care, and we may not be able to catch something in time if it does get worse.”

Doctor King added, “We don’t sedate people unless there is truly a reason for it. And we prefer to examine a patient when they are conscious so that we can get an accurate assessment on how they’re doing.” 

Pope glared at them for a few moments. “I don’t like doctors. I don’t like hospitals. I don’t like people touching me.” 

They all nodded as if they understood. “We will go slow and tell you what we're doing and why. If it gets too much, we can stop and take a break. How does that sound?” Doctor King must be a mind reader. She had just countered all of his fears today with quick explanations. He glared at her and thought nasty thoughts at her to see if he could catch her reading his mind. She didn’t flinch or otherwise react. 

Pope’s head wobbled, somewhere between a nod yes and a head shake, no. “Okay.” He sat up straighter. “Okay. You can do it.” 

All three medical professionals smiled. Nurse Jesse stepped away towards the light switch, “Do you mind if we briefly turn the lights up? It will make this go by easier.” He again waited until Pope nodded, then slowly brightened the room. 

“Okay, we're going to have you lean forward a bit, then we will have to reposition the gown so we can see your chest. We're going to help you with all of it, but it might still be a little bit painful. If it's too much pain, let us know.” Doctor King was leading the explanations as Doctor Langdon and Nurse Jesse maneuvered him into position. 

The exam took less than five minutes. They asked about his pain level, explained that he wasn’t going to need surgery, and explained how they were going to manage his pain. Then the doctors left the room. The nurse explained what the call button was for and how to use it. He dimmed the light as he left and was about to shut the door behind him. 

“Hey,” Pope said, almost in a whisper. 

The nurse turned and regarded him calmly, “Yeah, what's up?” 

Pope’s face twisted. He wasn’t good at talking, and his nerves felt like he was touching a live wire. “Are they good? The doctors?” He’d only ever had bad doctors, but there was usually a good nurse around. 

Nurse Jesse’s face fell a bit. He stepped back into the room to lean on the footrest and, losing some of the rigid professionalism he carried with him “This is all quite a shock, huh?” Pope nodded once. The nurse nodded with him, “These are good doctors. Every one of them out there is fantastic. They care for their patients' well-being. They all truly want to help people. Especially those two.” 

“Should I talk to the shrink? Will it help?” Pope’s face was blank in contemplation. The nurse’s face was open and relaxed. 

“I can’t technically tell you the answer to this one; that's the doctors’ call. But if I were in your shoes right now, I would want to talk to them. If it's medication you’re worried about, they can work with that. Sometimes people don’t even need medication. And even if you do, it's all about dosage. They can find something that works for you.” 

Pope sat with his cocked to the side and brows furrowed. He didn’t look up when the nurse shut the door behind him.

Pope was in shock. He had only been to a doctor a few times, but every time before, they had talked over him. Talked to Smurf or the prison guards. Never him. They never asked his permission to touch him, or dimmed the lights, or asked how he was feeling. It was strange. So he sat there pondering the circumstances that led him here and started a pro vs cons list for talking to a psychiatrist.

Chapter Text

Time didn’t mean much to Pope as he sat in the hospital bed. He had been in enough emergency rooms to know it was strange he had his own room, but he didn’t mind. He tried to sleep but never fully slumbered, only lightly dozed. There was too much commotion with the nurses checking in on him and the chaos outside. 

After some time had passed, Doctor Langdon, Doctor King, and an older bearded man wearing the black doctors’ scrubs knocked and walked in. The older one came in last, noticed the dim lights, reached for the light switch, then decided against it, instead held his hands in front of him. The security guard was back outside his door. 

“Good afternoon, I’m Doctor Robinavich. You can call me Doctor Robby. You’ve met Doctor Langdon and Doctor King. I’m the attending today. Just had some follow-up questions for you.” Doctor Robby had a tired face. There were bags and wrinkles under and around his eyes. His beard was starting to go grey around the temples and mouth. He met Pope’s eyes without fear or reproach. Pope didn’t say anything. There was no question asked of him, and he still didn’t feel he could trust the doctors. 

“So it sounds like we’ve got an interesting case on our hands. A good samaritan called the police about a fight, when police got there, they reported that you said you “Couldn’t go back” and attempted to grab a knife. When the ambulance got there, they said you hit one of the medics as they were trying to assess you,” at the look on Pope’s face Doctor Robby amended, “Granted, it wasn’t hard, barely enough to bruise and they refused to press charges. You show up with some frankly frightening injuries while trying to do everything in your power to escape. Now we find out you are out on parole for armed robbery in California, and you were taking someone else’s antipsychotics so that you don’t hurt anyone. Everything correct so far?” 

Pope took a moment to process all of that. “I don’t remember hitting the EMT. I’m so sorry.” 

“Now, I’m less worried about the legal side of this story and more worried about the safety of my staff and the patients, including yourself.” Pope stared straight ahead as Doctor Robby talked. The shame he carried all his life reared up and tried to swallow him whole. He should have let them kill him. Shouldn’t have fought back as viciously as he did. 

Doctor Robby, for his part, tried to look into his eyes. “You said you’re taking the antipsychotics to keep you from hurting people. At this point, you haven’t had any of those medications for five days. Not including this other stuff that you said they used. You said you were following the instructions on the bottles. That's a pretty high dosage, which means withdrawal symptoms are probably going to be hitting you pretty hard and pretty quick. You’re probably already starting to feel some of the effects. What usually happens when you’re off the medications?”

Pope thought for a moment. They didn’t seem too angry that he was taking stolen meds. They only seemed to care a little bit about the armed robbery/ parole thing. They seemed to want to understand to keep everyone safe. He didn’t want to hurt anyone. He couldn’t hurt anyone. These are doctors. Doctors who help people. Even if they don’t help him. 

“I get angry. Really angry. I can’t sit still because I want to hit something. I get too emotional and can’t do my job. It's harder to,” Pope hesitated. How does one explain the compulsions? “It's harder not to do the stupid stuff my brain is always telling me to do. Sometimes I see things even when they aren’t there.”

“Okay, okay, do you have obsessive compulsive disorder? Schizophrenia?” Doctor Robby was still leading the questioning. 

“Yes? Maybe. Different doctors say different things.” Pope stared at his hands, and blood rushed to his head and chest. He felt hot and damp. The nausea was building

“Have you thought anymore about talking to someone who can help us sort all of this out?” Doctor Robby’s voice was slowly losing the harsh edge he walked in with. 

Pope nodded once and murmured, “Okay.”

“Okay, good. That's good. It takes a lot to talk to someone about that, but I assure you, they want the best for you.” All the doctors nodded and tried to look encouraging. Pope didn’t feel encouraged. “Now, the other thing I’m worried about is how you got these injuries. The marks on your wrists and ankles suggest that you were tied up for a prolonged period of time. Your labs came back and suggest that you are mildly malnourished and had large amounts of what appears to be LSD in your system. You mentioned that you were drugged, so we are sending those back for further testing to determine if it was a false positive.”

He knew the drug panel would show LSD. That's what gave him his first strike with the parole officer. That's how he knew Smurf was drugging him. He took a deep breath and held it in for as long as he could, then released it slowly.

Doctor Robby inhaled deeply as well. “Right now, you seem to be cognizant and able to make informed decisions about your health, which means that this is not something I’m mandated to report. I don’t have to go to law enforcement; I can let you walk out that door with no questions asked.” Pope was staring at him hard now. The hairs on the back of Doctor Robby’s neck stood on end. 

“However, based on the type and severity of your injuries, the knowledge that you were previously given medication without your consent on multiple occasions, I would like to bring law enforcement in to speak with you as well.” Pope felt the rage inside heating up. His breathing became heavy, and the rushing sound in his ears grew louder.

“You want me to talk to the cops?” He scoffed, “I’m not fucking stupid. Hell no.”

The two younger doctors straightened up. Doctor King set the tablet down behind her and put her stethoscope in her pocket. Doctor Robby’s demeanor never changed. “I’m not trying to offend you, but from my angle, this looks like attempted murder on multiple accounts. Any police officer would look at your injuries and think the same. Even if you don’t know who did it, this can still be useful information in catching them and preventing them from trying again.”

Pope pitched his voice low, “I know who did it. That's one problem. The other is I’m not a fucking rat. I’m not talking to the police.” His fists were shaking. He was leaning forward, too blinded by rage to even register the pain. 

Doctor Robby stared him down, looking into his soul. Pope thought the man could read every thought that passed through his mind. Could see every frayed nerve ending in his Swiss cheese brain. Yet he didn’t falter. 

After several tense seconds, Doctor Robby broke the eye contact and amicably put his hands up. “I’m not trying to say you're a rat. And talking to the police is your decision. We can leave it at that.”

Pope tilted his head and nodded stiffly. 

“I’ve said my spiel. Are there any questions you had or any other topics we should discuss?” Doctor Robby scratched the back of his head and turned towards the other doctors. 

Pope didn’t say anything. He didn’t move a muscle except to track Doctor Robby’s movements as he marched out the door. 

Doctor Langdon stepped far out of his way and waited until the door shut behind him before turning back to Pope. 

“Oh, yes! I was able to get a hold of your parole officer. He said he needs to speak with you personally. Do you want to do that now, or would you like to wait until after lunch, which should be happening pretty soon?” Doctor King turned to him and spoke with a false enthusiasm in an obvious attempt to release the tension in the room.

“I’m not hungry. I can talk to him now.” Pope deadpanned.

Chapter Text

The phone call was tense. Doctor King stayed in the room to help answer any questions they had, even though she looked like she wanted to be anywhere but. 

“Pope, how’d you get yourself all the way to Pittsburgh and not know how you got there?” The man on the other end of the phone call wasn’t believing the story. 

“I’ve told you. Baz called to have me work on the car, and when I went over there, I got ambushed. They tied me up, shoved some pills down my throat, and tossed me in the trunk.” Pope glanced over to Doctor King as she worked on her charting. He hoped she wouldn’t say anything to Doctor Robby and convince him to talk to the police, or talk to them behind his back. 

“And they drove from California to Pennsylvania in four days? You understand why I’m not believing it.” 

“It's only a 30-something-hour drive with three drivers. That's easy and very doable. It was a black Toyota Camry with license plate 8FZ uh, I didn’t get the rest.” He trailed off. The images in his mind were blurry and ungrounded. “It would have been stolen the night or morning of the 14th. You’ll find it in Pittsburgh or just right out of town, either burnt to a crisp or totaled at a junk yard.” 

Pope felt like hitting something. He was nauseous, had a headache, and now he was openly talking to law enforcement. Even if it was just his parole officer, he still felt sick.

“No, wait. Two vehicles, one a Toyota Camry. The other a,” He tried to hold on to the memories, but they refused to obey his wishes. “I don’t, but it was green and had Texas plates. LRI5 something. Like I said, they doped me up.”

The officer sighed, “Pope, you know there’s no way to search every nook and cranny in the United States in time. It would take a hundred years. But I’ll work with you, okay. The doctor said you’ll have to stay for three days. I’ll be there tomorrow and get you a flight back, and we can work this out here, okay?”

Pope froze. He and Doctor King shared a glance, concern written clearly on her face. She opened her mouth to speak, but stopped again. Pope’s heart pounded in his chest. They wanted him back in LA. Where his family had just kidnapped and tried to murder him. Paint him as some crazy, missing, on-the-run felon. 

“No. I can’t go back. I’m not going back.” Pope’s voice was low. He could feel his hand shake, and a cold sweat had broken out across his body.

“Pope, you have to. Okay? You’re out on parole, you still have to check in and do the tests.”

“If you make me go back, you won’t have to worry about a parole violation. You’ll have to worry about finding my body. I’m not going back.” His voice was still low. He tried to push the shakiness he suddenly felt down. He couldn’t sound weak.

The officer tried to argue.

“No man, I know Smurf has you in her pocket, okay? Listen, she wants me dead. Thinks I am. So what you’re going to do is keep her money but let me stay here. You’ll pretend that you can’t find me while you get me a,” His mind was racing, and he stumbled over his words, “A waiver or new parole officer or something here. There have to be exceptions. I’ll stay here.” 

A long sigh emanated from the phone, “Pope,”

“Please.”

The silence stretched for miles. “I’ll see what I can do. No promises, though. I’ve still got to fly in. It’ll be easier in person. Don’t leave the hospital. Don’t,” a large inhale, “Don’t do anything stupid. I can't help you if you do.” 

Pope hung up. He stared at the phone in his hand until Doctor King cleared her throat and reached for it. He handed it back with careful movements. Don’t do anything stupid. Yeah, that’ll be easy with his skin crawling. 

Doctor King was making moves to leave, but Pope stopped her. “Doctor King,” He waited until their eyes met, then waited as he tried to form the words, “I’m starting to feel shaky and angry, and hot, and cold. Is that normal?” 

“Um, yes, it is. But I can get you something to help with the symptoms if you're okay with that?” She offered him a soft, encouraging smile.

He felt like the walls were closing in on his bed. That she was the only reason the room hadn’t swallowed him up completely. A hospital wouldn’t dare harm a doctor. But it would harm a crazy asshole. “Does it mean I’m crazy if the minute I stop those meds, my brain turns to mush?”

She moved closer to him. Her hand touched the footrest instead of him. He appreciated that she didn’t try to touch him. “I don’t think so. A lot of mental disorders are because of a chemical imbalance in the brain, trauma, or just different brains acting differently than the ‘normal’. That doesn’t mean the person is crazy because of it. Sometimes the brain just needs a little bit of help to work like it's supposed to. That's why we have a variety of treatment options, some of which include therapy and medications.” 

Her face remained open and gentle. She looked like she truly believed those words, not like she had just been trained from a book to talk to crazy people. He didn’t have anything he could say in response so he instead gave a stilted nod. 

The nurses came by to give him lunch, but all he could choke down was an apple. It wasn't even a good one. Lunch had made him think a lot about the naming conventions of apples. In the end, he decided he should never meet the person who decided to name it “Red Delicious” if he truly didn’t want to hurt anyone. 

He had been staring at the second half of the apple long enough for brown to bleed in from the edges. There was a knock, and Nurse Jesse walked in and held the door for a man in a wheelchair. He was dressed in business casual clothes but had a lanyard to tell everyone he was a doctor. 

“Good afternoon, Mr. Cody. I’m Doctor Caleb Jefferson, the psychiatric attending today, but you can just call me Caleb. How are you feeling?” His voice was calm and smooth, but that one word struck Pope like lightning. He glanced at Nurse Jesse as he bit into the apple, if only to try to gather his thoughts. The nurse watched the two of them like a hawk, sensing the change in Pope.

The silence weighed heavily on them. Doctor Jefferson gave the conversation another go, “I understand you have some reservations about speaking to me. That’s understandable. I’m only here to help. Would you mind telling me what happened to bring you to the ER?” Another crunch of apple interrupted the man. The two stared at each other for a moment, both trying to get a read on the other. 

“Mr. Cody,” a pause, “I understand you introduced yourself as ‘Pope’, would you like me to call you that instead?” Pope hesitated as he bit into the apple again. His brow furrowed slightly. He regained his attitude in a split second, but Doctor Jefferson caught the microexpression. He maintained his calm demeanor but glanced at the nurse, who shrugged. 

The pause stretched further than it had previously. Pope was starting to run out of apple. It still felt like sand in his mouth. Doctor Jefferson seemed to deflate slightly, “Mr. Cody, I was under the impression that you wanted to talk to me. I see that I was mistaken. If you change your mind, I can come back, perhaps when you finish your lunch. Apologies for interrupting.” He turned briskly and made for the door. Nurse Jesse opened it to allow him through. 

Pope had several thoughts in that instant. He didn’t think the doctor would actually just leave. The others had just gotten angry, written a script, and swapped it with the cash his mother gave them. Sometimes they forced him to listen as they laid out his failings and drilled home the reasons everyone hated him. Often, they doped him up just so that the boys working that weekend could get a piece of ass. Doctor Jefferson didn’t, though. He was willing to turn and leave without an ounce of anger. He can’t force me to do anything if he’s in a wheelchair, even if I’m drugged to hell. Pope thought, selfishly.

No script. 

No backwards diagnoses. 

No damnation. 

No Smurf to pay him off. 

No threats.

No violence.

And he was leaving. 

“Wait.” The single word came out more urgent than Pope wanted. It gave too much away. 

Caleb stopped and turned his head. He had to reverse and turn inside the room, careful not to hit the door jam or the nurse. Pope was instantly awash with guilt. The apple felt like a grenade about to blow. A weapon of his rage.  

“I’m sorry about that. I,” he didn’t know how to continue, but Caleb had turned fully and was facing him with a light smile. “Thought you were going to be like the others. Back home. Or in prison.”

Caleb wheeled closer and tilted his head slightly at Pope’s words, but didn’t remark on them. Pope liked that they were eye level. He didn’t like it when people towered over him, especially when it hurt to move and felt like his rage had a hairpin trigger. “No worries, I’m glad we get to talk. Before we get started, what would you prefer me to call you?”

Pope looked around for a place to park his disgrace of an apple before answering, “I uh, I don’t know, I guess.” Everyone who called him Pope had just tried to kill him and left him for dead. This was a chance to change everything. “Andrew. I think it would be nice to be called Andrew for once.” 

Nurse Jesse stepped forward, “If you’re done with that, I can take it. If you’re still working on it, no rush.” he gestured toward the apple, and Pope could have hugged him with the relief of not having to awkwardly hold an apple core grenade for the rest of this. 

“Okay, Andrew, what brings you to the ER?” Caleb relaxed in his chair as Pope told him about the drugs Smurf gave him, the falling out, the ambush, the nearly 40 hours he spent in the back of the trunk, and the beating after. Caleb asked several questions about the drugs, including their effect and descriptions. He occasionally took notes on his tablet, and Pope was happy to wait for him to finish typing. The rhythmic tapping was somehow drawing his focus in a way that usually doesn’t happen. It was as if each little tap held a piece of the puzzle to whatever the fuck was wrong with him, and maybe at the end they would be able to see the full picture.

“When did Smurf start giving you those medications?” Caleb’s tone never faltered or hitched. He was on a fact-finding mission first, and it made Pope more willing to speak with each question.

“I don’t know, maybe when I was twelve or so? That's the earliest I remember. Those prescriptions had my name on them.” He added with a glance at Nurse Jesse sheepishly. “But I stopped and started them a lot. Then, when I got out of prison, she knew I wasn’t taking them, so she started to put them in my food. Those are the ones in my pocket when I showed up.” Easy. Just facts. No feelings. Pope was starting to think this talking thing wasn’t too hard.

“Do you know what made her get you the medications in the first place?” Oh, Caleb had just given him softballs for the first few questions. He still managed to make it sound non-judgmental. 

He had tried to forget this memory several times over, but it rose to the forefront of his mind often. A long moment stretched between them before Pope could find the words he needed. This one was less hostile than the previous ones, and Caleb showed no signs of impatience. “I tried to drown my brother in the pool,” he practically had to choke the words out as rage burned in his chest. The same rage that had only been expounded upon in recent years. “I almost drowned my brother because he had just found out that I had been going to church and reading the bible and he gave me that nickname. I hated it so much, and he wouldn’t stop making fun of me. I needed him to stop. So I took a deep breath and tackled him into the pool. I held him under until my mom ripped me off of him.” 

Pope felt the same anger that he always felt when he thought about this memory. He studied the two other men closely. His expression had gone “dead-eyed, psycho killer” as Craig had described him one day, but he couldn’t put the anger away long enough to fix his face. He watched for any indication that they would switch gears and show him their true colors. They showed no such indicators. Nurse Jesse looked shocked but was taking it in stride, as if this wasn’t even the most outrageous thing he’d heard. Caleb’s eyes were raised, and his typing included a lot of backspaces. 

Now that inertia was on Pope’s side, he found it easier to speak freely. “That was the final straw, hurting Baz. I had already switched schools because a teacher caught me putting razor blades in a kid's sandwich. Teach didn’t say anything to Erik Johnson about slapping Julia’s ass and spreading rumors about her, though.” 

He watched in real time as Caleb realized Pope’s volatile nature was not a standalone instance but a series of events that had built him into who he was today. Pope wondered how badly that changed things for him. He was startled to find that he didn’t have it in him to care anymore. 

“Okay, do you remember what the doctors said about these instances?” Caleb’s voice remained even and controlled. Pope envied his ability to control how his voice sounded all the time.

“I don’t know what they said. Though they did give me mood stabilizers and antidepressants. I was on and off of those until my twenties when they added antipsychotics at my mother's request.”

They went back and forth down one line of questions and back up another. Each time Pope felt like he was walking into a grave. The room grew hotter and hotter. He had long since shed the blanket and the socks but was still sweating through the sheets and gown. Noises that someone usually got used to and turned into background noise were instead taking more and more of his attention. Soon, he could barely hear Caleb over the buzzing of the lights, the itchiness of the tie keeping his gown closed, and the beeping of the machine beside him. 

He didn’t realize that he had slowly stopped answering Caleb’s questions as his world shrank to all the sensations his body was holding. He didn’t realize that his face had changed to a hard grimace until Caleb asked him if he was alright and sent Jesse to go find Doctor Robby. This was bad. When did it go bad? For the first time in his life, he was willingly talking to a doctor, and now his body called for mutiny. 

Doctor Robby and Doctor King knocked and entered hurriedly. “What's going on, Jefferson?” Robby’s voice sounded from his side. He gripped his left forearm and dug his nails in, trying to ground himself. Every second that he unclenched his teeth, they would start chattering in the now cold room. 

“He’s in withdrawal from everything he’d been taking or drugged with. What is he on currently?”

Pope couldn’t pay attention anymore. He ripped at the gown ties but was only able to partially disrobe due to the pain in his chest. A hand tried to guide his wrist back down to his lap. Instinct made him twist and grasp the wrist instead until he finally got a hold of himself and saw the terrified face of Doctor King. He looked down and loosened his grip. The hand slipped out. Bigger hands reached for him and pushed him back against the bed. Doctor King joined the fray again and used both hands to pin his left arm to his side. 

He took a deep breath. The pressure from all the hands felt like heaven compared to the shitty hospital blanket and stupid gown he was forced to wear. He kept his eyes locked on Doctor King’s pale wrist and attempted the futile task of allowing himself to be manhandled. This many hands sent him into a fight or flight tailspin. He couldn't get away. He wanted the warmth but hated the grip.

“Mr. Cody, we’re only trying to keep you from hurting yourself. What are you trying to do? What can we do to help?” Doctor King’s voice was sharp and cut through the not-so-ambient noise clouding his brain. 

Pope’s jaw felt as if it had been bolted shut. It took several tries to get it to open up. “This fucking tablecloth you have me wearing has a knot that has been jabbing into me for the last hour. This fucking room has no airflow and is suffocating me. That light sounds like it's going to take flight with how much it's buzzing.” he tried to point to each piece of his personal hell as he listed them, “And that fucking machine won't stop yelling every god damn second.” 

More people flooded the room. A large man with glasses and a beard laid his weight on his legs. Two more nurses joined the battle to keep him still. The Doctors were speaking loudly to one another. He tried unsuccessfully not to yell and thrash in frustration. His body had a mind of its own, though.

The monitor ceased its disastrous beeping, taking with it the need to hit something. 

The gown was tugged and moved until it only lay over his hips. He stopped trying to get out of their grip

The lights went out completely, as did the air from his lungs and the fight in his soul. 

The monster that had taken over retreated and left the husk of his body lying on the sweat-dampened sheets.

Eons ticked by. The entire room held its breath as they waited to see what would happen next. Slowly, the nurses released his legs. His body lurched at the temperature change as the cold air hit the warm skin. Doctor Langdon and Doctor King shared a nod and removed themselves from the dog pile, releasing his arms. Doctor Robby was the last to let go and therefore felt the tremors running through Pope’s tightly coiled muscles. 

The pendulum inside Pope’s mind swung from relief to anxiety in a slow second. As if a wave were washing over him, he felt like he was drowning in panic and remorse. The tremors grew, and his breath came fast. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.” He looked between Doctor King and Doctor Robby. She stared back at him with furrowed brows and an uneven frown. Doctor Robby’s eyes were alight with a ferocity that Pope couldn't name. 

“Doctor King, I didn’t mean to hurt you. I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean it. I’m so sorry.” his words tumbled out with every breath. He fought back tears of embarrassment as they all stared at him. He inched his knees up to sit criss-cross. Placing his elbows on his knees and raking his fingers through his hair was just about all he could do to keep himself from losing it completely.

“Alright, thank you, folks. Let's get back to work.” Caleb’s voice called gently and inspired everyone to clear out except the doctors.

Fuuuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck! The word tumbled in Pope’s mind like a parasite eating more coherent thoughts before they could blossom.

Chapter Text

The nurses moved around the doctors as they left. Ahmad, the security guard, stood just inside the doorway. He clearly didn’t like the idea of leaving his doctors alone with Pope. Pope didn’t blame him for one second. He knew he was dangerous, and Ahmad could see it as well. He wondered if the doctors knew it too and were trying to pretend that he could be saved, or if they were oblivious to how dangerous someone could be. 

Caleb turned to Ahmad, “We’re good. He’s calming down.” 

Ahmad grumbled but left the room. He almost ran into the grey-haired nurse with sharp features and a strong accent that he’d seen directing others on the other side of his window. She was followed by a young nurse with twin braids on the side of her head. The older one looked fierce. She blocked the younger one from entering upon making eye contact with him. She could see into the depths of his soul and knew it was broken and evil. He often had that effect on people.

Pope took a shaky breath and scrubbed his hand down his face, willing a neutral expression on his face. He couldn’t show them that anything they were about to say would affect him. He had heard it all before. This time would be no different. 

“Doctor Robby, we need a SANE Nurse in triage. I’m the only one on duty. Princess is taking over as Charge Nurse until I get done. Everything good here before I head over?” He saw everyone’s face fall. 

Doctor Robby’s face went from laser-focused on him and his movements to soft and sad as her words hit him. He rubbed the back of his neck as he turned to her, “I think we’re good here. Thank you for letting me know. Do you need me down there?”

“Doctor Al-Hashimi and Emma are coming down with me.” She gestured toward the nurse behind her. Emma looked nervous but kind. 

“Sounds good.” Doctor Robby stayed facing the door for a moment as the two nurses walked away. When he turned back, his face was tired and drawn. He locked eyes with Caleb, then turned to Pope.

“Mr. Cody, would you mind telling us what happened just now?”

“It was my fault, I was trying to keep him from pulling his stitches or overexerting his ribs and touched him without asking.” Doctor King said She looked down. She swallowed a couple of times. Her mouth kept going into a frown, but she was obviously going for professional neutrality. 

“Yes, Doctor King, I saw. But we are in a hospital setting. As much as we try not to touch our patients without their consent, it is sometimes not possible to do so. Mr. Cody, would you tell us what happened to upset you in the first place?”

Pope found himself staring at Doctor King. Her emotions were an open book to him, and he felt bad for getting into this situation in the first place. It wasn’t her fault. He was the crazy one here. 

“It's all so overwhelming. It's too loud, too hot, too cold, too many things touching my skin when it already feels like ants are crawling underneath. I just couldn’t handle it anymore. I needed the knots of the gown untied because they were digging into my back, but I couldn’t reach them. I guess I panicked.” Pope stared straight ahead now. He could see all the doctors in his peripheral vision. Doctor King shifted awkwardly beside him. Doctor Jefferson was beside her, by his legs. Doctor Langdon and Doctor Robby stood together on his right, both with their arms crossed but with completely different postures. 

“I’m going to get something to clean up his arms. I’ll be right back.” Doctor Langdon turned and left the room with one last glance at Doctor King. Pope looked down and saw five dots of blood forming where he had dug his nails into his arm. They stood out as new injuries from the bruises and scrapes that marred his skin since the beating. It was a startling sight as he didn’t even feel the pain when it had happened. He hadn’t done something like that in a long, long time. Pope looked back and forth from right hand to left arm as he tried to squash the panic that tried to rise again. He hadn’t done this since Smurf had duct-taped his hands together as if in prayer for a whole day to keep him from opening up old wounds. 

“We have to let the medications completely exit your system so that we can find an accurate baseline to work with.” Doctor Caleb explained. It made sense, but Pope just wanted to stop feeling like shit. He wanted them to just fix him. 

“We can increase the medications to manage the symptoms of your withdrawal. Give you something for anxiety to calm you down a bit.” Doctor Robby spoke plainly. Pope was still floored that the doctors were speaking to him, not above him. 

“The other stuff was working. It wasn’t so bad with them. Can you not just give me the Clozapine and the Thioridazine? They kept me from getting this bad.” Pope was tired. Now that the adrenaline had done its thing and was now out of his system, he was left feeling empty and exhausted. 

“Unfortunately, no, given the context you gave me regarding how and why those were… being taken, I cannot continue to prescribe them without understanding your baseline first. Paying for specific medications to be prescribed to manipulate someone is unethical to the greatest degree. Not to mention that what you have in your system could be exacerbating the issues due to wrong dosage or even wrong medications entirely. In fact its possible they could be causing your symptoms to begin with.” Caleb’s voice was cool and calm. He sounded sympathetic to Pope’s plight. The ethicalness that he was obsessed with was obnoxious, but a quality that Pope was begrudgingly starting to admire.

Pope couldn’t hold back the growl that left him despite his clenched teeth. His whole body was still shaking. He was cold now, so he slowly reached for the blanket and pulled it up. It hurt to move, but he didn’t dare ask for help. They didn't move to help. 

“How is the pain?” Doctor King asked. She still stood stiffly by his side but was acting as an anchor, helping to orient him to his surroundings and to keep the walls from closing in.

“Fine.” The word ground out of him. It was hard to speak again. Like his tongue had forgotten all the words it ever knew 

“Does it hurt when you stay still? Or only when you move?” Their eyes met. Pope glared at her, and she kept looking away. “It seems as if you’re in pain. We would rather you be comfortable, so if we need to, we can give you more morphine to help.” 

“I don’t want painkillers. That’s the last thing I need is to leave here with a fucking addiction.” Pope knew he was being rude to someone who didn’t deserve it. He didn’t care.

“No. You need something for the pain. You already said it was overwhelming with everything that's going on. So far, you’ve hit an EMT, and now you just grabbed one of my residents. It's only going to get worse for you from here.” Now, Doctor Robby and Pope had a stare-off. Doctor Robby didn’t look away like most people. He met his gaze with barely concealed rage. “I’m really considering getting some restraints for you or sedating you until the worst of the effects have worn off. I will not have harm come to my staff by a patient.”

The two remained locked in the battle. Pope knew he was faltering. His mind is not as sharp as it usually is. The pain masked the rage, but only partially. He knew Doctor Robby was right. He was too dangerous right now to control himself. He couldn’t admit it, though. He couldn’t admit to weakness. 

Doctor Langdon returned with a cart full of medical instruments, and Pope’s heart rate skyrocketed. All four doctors looked at the monitor, then him. His return had thankfully ended the standoff.

“This is just to clean out and bandage your arm. We don’t want it to get infected.” Doctor Langdon said. The blood had almost stopped trickling out and would stop soon on its own. Pope knew it wouldn’t need anything more than a few bandages and that the scarring would be minimal. Even if it did scar, it would blend in with the others.

Doctor King pulled up a stool and donned some gloves. “If Mr. Cody is okay with it, increase morphine to 7 mg.” The room waited as Pope thought about it. He sighed and nodded. His right hand came up to hide his face. 

A knock on the door caused him to jump slightly. “Doctor Robby, we have a police officer with a GSW inbound. 5-minute ETA,” a nurse said. Doctor Robby acknowledged and followed her out into the hallway. Caleb maneuvered out of the way of Doctor Langdon’s cart and into the spot Doctor Robby had occupied. 

“Andrew, this is really tough. Please believe me when I say we are doing our best to help. Would you like to continue the conversation we were having, or would you like to take a bit to relax before we try again?” His voice still held no judgment or bitterness in his voice. 

“I don’t care. I’m horrible at talking, and it won’t matter much when my parole officer gets here anyway.” Pope let his right hand drop from his face. He saw that Doctor King and Doctor Langdon were ready to tackle his arm and were looking at him expectantly.

“We need to irrigate this with sterile water, then wrap it in a bandage. It should heal on its own.” Doctor King's voice was back to the full confidence she had in previous conversations. 

“Okay.” He moved his arm where she indicated and let her work without interruption. He noticed Doctor Langdon watching him when he wasn’t assisting Doctor King. His eyes caught every twitch and tremor of his face and hands. He understood the impulse. Couldn’t even argue against it. 

“Andrew, Doctor King told me about the conversation you had with your parole officer. Would you be okay if I were in the room for that conversation? I could try to persuade him to let you stay in Pittsburgh. I’m sure Doctor King or Doctor Langdon would be willing to help as well if you think their expertise could help.” Caleb said this as if it were a common thing. Like this was a normal ask for them to talk to someone to help him stay in town. 

When he glanced at all three of them in turn, he felt his heart wrench in his chest. He couldn’t remember the last time this many people had actually cared about him. Not just his immediate health, but actually care for him in a long-term sense. His eyes welled up. He breathed through the knot in his chest. 

“You would do that? It doesn’t sound like it's in your job description. How much is that going to cost?” He hated his natural instinct to fight compassion with sarcasm, but the words slipped out before he could stop them. 

“We don’t bill per conversation. And talking to people is not usually on a patient's chart, so therefore admin wouldn’t be able to put it on an itemized bill.” Doctor King deadpanned without even looking up from her work. 

Pope huffed at the response. Then a grin spread about his face, and a real laugh replaced the fake one. Smiles broke out from the doctors as the weight of the previous interactions fell off their shoulders. 

“Yes. If you don’t mind, I would like you there. I can’t go back to California. I won’t make it a week.”

Doctor King finished wrapping his arm and placed a gentle hand on his bicep. “We’ll do our best to keep you from going back. I’ll consult with some people and see if there are any loopholes we can find.” In stark contrast to the first time she touched him, he felt the heat from her hand and drank it in. It was so different from what he was used to that he instinctively tried to find her motive or see how this could benefit her. 

Doctor Langdon’s eyes zeroed in on her hand and then Pope’s face, calculating and bracing himself for action. Pope could only nod and sit there dumbfounded as they cleaned up their equipment and left him to see other patients. He sat with his hand over the spot she had touched his arm, trying to replicate the feeling until he drifted off to sleep.

Chapter Text

They forgot to pull the curtain closed, so he had a clear view of the commotion that happened outside. He could tell the meds were working to keep his anxiety and pain low, but didn’t stop the visions from slowly creeping into his mind. He saw a gurney with a man in camo body armor get rolled in. Doctor Robby and several others, dressed out in paper gowns and gloves, moved to assist. There was loud talking that he couldn’t understand through the thick glass.

When the visions started to get bad, it was usually after the death of a family member or someone he cared about. Sometimes it happens after a job gone bad. It was always people he cared about who terrorized him and said awful things that they wouldn’t normally be able to say to his face. It was never himself, though.

This time around, he saw himself walking beside the gurney in matching camo with “police” across the chest and back of his body armor. No one stopped him like they stopped others that followed the gurney into the ER. He just walked in like he owned the place. He leaned over and helped to guide the gurney. He looked up briefly at Doctor Robby but made eye contact with Pope instead. His head tilted, and his mouth opened to speak, but he quickly looked down at the man bleeding on the gurney instead. He walked past his window view too quickly to ponder the life he could have had. It's best not to think too hard about it. Pope wondered at the nature of a vision that didn’t interact with him. They normally talked to him or tried to attack him. Sometimes they would just stare at him from the corner and make awful noises. They hardly ever just walked by. The vision was followed by a similarly dressed squad that made him bristle at how close they were to him. 

For a moment, they gathered directly outside his door while they tried to stay out of the way of the hospital staff rushing in all directions. Only thick glass and a door locked from the outside, their side, separated them. He was only a little angry at the self-locking door, but understood the precaution. If they wanted to barge in and arrest him, there would be nothing stopping them. He tried not to look at them too hard. Tried not to think of this new vision of him if he had made different decisions every moment since he'd been born. He wondered if he would like being a police officer if he wasn’t raised to hate them. Probably not, he concluded, though the drugs running through his system didn’t let him think about why.

One of the police officers turned towards his window as he ran his hands down his face and through his hair. His eyes were red and puffy. When he looked up, he locked eyes with Pope. The two men froze. Pope was worried that if he moved, they would arrest him. He assumed the officer had heard about his exploits or something and was on the lookout for a convicted felon in breach of his parole. The officer straightened, then leaned in close to the glass. He tapped the officer to his left without looking away from Pope. The second officer looked toward the first and asked a question, then he followed the first’s gaze and pointed finger. 

The second officer looked between where the gurney had gone and Pope in astonishment. Pope’s breathing hitched, and he felt his heart drop. He was already trying to ignore Smurf telling him he should’ve died in a nowhere town in Oklahoma, he didn’t need the police suspicious of him right now. Once the two officers were gawking, the rest quickly turned to add their astonished stares. The officer on the far right, a man with a neatly trimmed beard and longer, slicked back hair than the rest, got Nurse Jesse’s attention. Out of all the nurses he could’ve asked, he had to get the one who knew for a fact he was insane and dangerous. Fuck! Fuck, Fuck, Fuck! 

Pope pleaded with his eyes for the nurse to keep his mouth shut. He hoped he would tell the officers to fuck off, but knew it was unlikely. The nurse was probably glad that the police were here to pick him up so that he wouldn't have to deal with Pope's crazy ass. 

The officers asked Nurse Jesse a question. He looked at Pope, then back at the officers, and shook his head and shrugged his shoulders. Then, miraculously, he shooed them along down the hallway with an apologetic glance and a small wave at Pope. 

It took probably half an hour for his breathing to even out. Nurse Jesse came by to check on him and ask how he was feeling. 

“Better. It still hurts if I move too much, but it's not so bad just sitting here. I’m still alternating between too hot and too cold, but the blanket can handle that.” The nurse told him he was still running a fever, but it had gone down slightly. He took notes and checked his wounds, being mindful to ask before touching, which Pope appreciated. He still jumped when the cool feeling of a gloved hand touched his side, but he tried not to show it. He didn’t want to give the nurse a reason to call the gaggle of cops in here.
“Do you know a Doctor Jack Abbot?” Jesse asked as he was examining him.

“No. Should I?” Pope didn’t have enough energy for the comment to bite, but still felt bad as he said it. 

“Well, he works at this hospital and looks a lot like you, so I just thought you might know him.” Nurse Jesse was calm as always, his voice low and quiet. 

“You, Doctor King, Doctor Langdon, Doctor Robby, and Doctor Jefferson are the only people I even know in this city. I didn’t rub elbows with a lot of doctors back in Cali either.” Pope almost said back home, but felt bile rise at the thought.

“Hmm, okay. What a weird coincidence then. Need anything before I leave?” Nurse Jesse finished with the exam and stepped back towards Pope’s feet to give him some room. 

“Will you tell Doctor Jefferson that I'm getting worse?”

“How so?” Nurse Jesse looked him up and down again to see if he missed anything. 

“I’m starting to see things that shouldn’t be here,” Pope said, with all the enthusiasm of someone stopping for gas on their morning commute. 

“What sort of things are you seeing?” The pieces fell together in Jesse’s mind. He hadn’t even noticed how Pope’s eyes kept shifting to the corner of the room. How his answers were delayed and sometimes included a slight head shake as if he were dismissing other answers. 

“People. People who have already died or who couldn’t possibly be here.” He didn’t mention the alternative version of himself wearing police gear and helping in the hospital. He didn’t want to explain how much his own mind hated who he had become. 

“Are they telling you to do anything? Or are they saying anything specific?” Nurse Jesse was purely business again, furiously typing on his tablet. 

Pope pointed at Smurf’s corner, “My mom, Smurf, is telling me that I should’ve let Baz and the others kill me. Should’ve gone easy and quiet instead of hurting them. It's the least I could’ve done.” He felt like it was wrong to say all that out loud, but he felt like he was floating, and Nurse Jesse had been very nice so far. He even got the police officers away from his room. 

“Oh, okay.” Nurse Jesse said. His voice was higher than normal, and his eyebrows had risen. “Does this happen a lot?”

“Sometimes,” Pope let his head drop to the pillow, “it hasn’t happened since Folsom, though.”

“Okay, are you planning on doing anything that they tell you? Like, hurt yourself or take your own life?” Nurse Jesse put the tablet down by his side and was looking at Pope intently.

Pope sat up as quickly as he could manage with the sludge in his brain and the pain in his chest. “No. Why would I do that? That's exactly what she wants to happen. If I wanted to die, I would’ve just let them kill me like they were planning. Or I would’ve hopped on the first plane back.” 

Relief melted off Nurse Jesse at Pope’s words. He knew things could change quickly, but no plan or thoughts of suicide were good signs. “That's good. Really good. Please let one of us know, or use that button if you feel like harming yourself or others, okay? We will be here for you.” 

Pope nodded and lay his head back down on the pillow, intent on sleeping off the fever that plagued him. 

“I’ll be back to check on you soon, Andrew.”

Pope barely managed a “Mkay” before he was asleep again. His visions could act as weird as they wanted, he guessed. It's not like he could judge them when he was the crazy one. They'd still be there when he woke up anyway. 

Chapter Text

Pope woke up to chaos outside his room and Smurf hovering over his shoulder. The nurses and doctors were frantically writing on clipboards and talking with angry movements and expressions to each other. The closed door and thick glass muffled most of the noise, but not all of it. He was glad he was just an observer to the hellscape instead of an active participant in it, as he didn’t think he could deal with it unmedicated as he was. Psychiatric medications, that is. The morphine and anxiety medications were doing an admirable job for the time being. 

He watched for quite some time, trying to ignore Smurf’s taunts until Nurse Jesse knocked and walked in once Pope gestured for him to enter. He immediately shut the door behind him and drew the curtain shut. He stood there with his eyes closed and breathing deeply for a few seconds. Pope watched him, understanding the need for a moment of quiet. 

When Nurse Jesse opened his eyes, he smiled at Pope with a genuine and warm smile. “Sorry about that, Andrew. Our computers are down, and it's taking a bit to adjust.” 

“You look like you’ve been to hell and back. Really making me reconsider my career change into emergency medicine.” Pope didn’t know if his lips were loose due to the medications or because this man had already seen him at his worst, but he found that he wanted to make everyone who helped him out so far smile. 

“Today is a hell of a day to be at a hospital, staff, or patient.” The nurse looked down at the clipboard, and his face fell. “These guys don’t even know what carbon paper is.” 

“Oh, I didn’t know the nineties were back in style.” 

Really, Pope? Flirting with the nurses? You should try for a doctor. Easier to get them to write phony scripts. Can make a decent amount of money from benzos out on the street. Smurf was leaning in the corner now, eying him suspiciously.

The nurse laughed and then shifted into professional mode, not acknowledging Pope, adamantly avoiding looking at the corner of the room. “How is your pain, Andrew?” 

“Its manageable. Still feel like shit, and it hurts when I move or breathe too deeply, but I’d rather not have more morphine. Addiction runs in my family.” Pope barely managed to force himself not to say that addiction is forced on the family. The nurse didn’t need to know that part. 

Oh, baby, might as well get what you can. Its not like you’ll be able to afford anything once you’re out of this hospital. Pope shot her a harsh glare but still gave her the silent treatment.

“Sound’s good. We can always temporarily give you a bit more and then drop it back down to a lower level if it gets too much.” The nurse seemed to be getting used to Pope’s long stretches of wordless eye contact as he was trying to avoid his eyes less. Pope wondered slightly if he knew exactly how crazy he was or if the nurse just had too many other things to worry about.

“I’ll need to check the wounds, make sure they’re not getting infected or anything. Is it okay if I do it now? It can wait a couple of hours, or I can potentially get someone else if needed?” The nurse didn’t make a single move towards him or even lift a finger to touch him. Pope thought for a moment to make sure he was mentally up for the task, sending a warning glance to Smurf, then nodded.

“Okay, just like before, I’ll go slowly and tell you what I’m doing as I do the exam. Of course, when the doctors come in, they’ll want to take a look as well, but as you can tell, they are very busy right now. ” Nurse Jesse said as he donned gloves and stepped forward. Smurf stepped closer as well, crowding him now. She was easy to ignore with the hospital staff in here with him. If they could ignore her, then he could ignore her. For now.

“Okay, I appreciate it, Nurse Jesse.” Pope shuffled to lower the blanket and allow the nurse to move his gown. 

Nurse Jesse. Is it the grey hair? Is it that he’s about your height? Come on, baby, is this really what gets your rocks off? Smurf had sauntered over to his other side and ran her hands up and down his arm, then down his chest. She pecked a kiss to his temple, and Pope was unable to contain the urge to flinch away, or the quiet ‘stop it’ that he said under his breath. 

“Please, just Jesse.” The nurse paused, obviously reading Pope’s reactions and putting the pieces together. “Are you talking to me or someone else?”

Pope shut his eyes tightly. “Smurf. She’s touching my shoulder. Just give me a second. Then you can do what you need to.”

Jesse nodded slowly, then verbally agreed when he saw Pope’s eyes stay welded shut.

“Okay, when you’re ready, I’ll brighten the lights and then lower your gown to look at your chest first. I’m looking for any color change, redness, swelling, or discharge from your wounds.” Jesse had just approached Pope’s bed to stand beside him when a tall, younger man with curly hair knocked and entered the room. Smurf made a comment about him looking like a poodle.

The newcomer took a quick glance around and popped the lights to full brightness. Pope hoped Jesse didn’t notice the jump he made at the sudden entrance of the doctor. Smurf kept her hand on his shoulder and used the other one to card through his tangled hair. He hated the touch but felt the conditioning she’d hammered into him start to take over and calm him down slightly.

“Hi, I’m Student Doctor Ogilvie. I was told to help with the exam.” He quickly pulled gloves from the dispenser in the wall and walked up to Pope’s other side. He stood right beside Smurf, and Pope was instantly on edge. He knew he shouldn't have anything to worry about, but the abrasiveness set Pope’s teeth on edge.
“Student doctor? Where’s Doctor King or Doctor Langdon?” Pope shared a glance with Jesse and saw the tiredness return to his face. 

“They have other things going on.” Student Doctor Ogilvie said at the same time, Smurf made another sly comment.

Ooo, trying to get a foursome going, baby? It’s bold to assume even one person would want you.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Pope snapped at Smurf. 

“I mean, they’re busy right now. They just got a bunch of new patients. Is that going to be a problem?” Ogilvie looked at him incredulously. “Oh, are you talking to someone who isn’t here?”

Jesse tilted his head and pressed his lips into a thin line. He was looking in the middle distance between the Ogilvie and Pope. Pope knew that look. He would’ve chuckled if he didn’t feel the same way. “Andrew is currently experiencing very vivid hallucinations due to the onset of withdrawal from certain psychiatric medications.” 

Ogilvie muttered, “Yikes,” and made an awkward frown on his face. He then looked at Jesse, “Should we do this later? He could be dangerous.”

Oh, baby, they’re afraid of you. You should show them how dangerous you can be. You could kill this toothpick with one hand. Smurf purred into his ear. Pope felt powerless, like he always did around her. He couldn’t lift a finger to remove her hands from running laps across his chest and arm. He did lift his arms and cover his face and tried to take deep breaths. He didn’t want to hurt anyone. She wasn’t here and couldn’t make him hurt anyone. He wouldn’t hurt anyone. 

“Is Doctor Jefferson busy right now? We didn’t get to finish our conversation earlier?” Pope never would have thought that he would be more willing to talk to a psychiatrist than a regular doctor to make sure he was healing okay, but the thought of this student doctor being this close to him and possibly touching him alongside Smurf’s hands was making his skin crawl. He tried not to think of other curly-haired doctors with poor bedside manners that he had encountered before. 

“He’s been talking to some guy’s family about schizophrenia for the last few hours. I’m sure he can come talk after he is done. Sounds like you need it. I just need to move your gown to be able to look at your entire torso.” Pope flinched violently even though he saw the hand coming. He closed his eyes and clenched his hands into tight fists. Was Smurf actually here, trying to pay off Doctor Jefferson? Was Baz pretending to be friendly to get the inside scoop? Who else could Caleb be talking to?

“How about I do the exam, and you can watch?” Jesse stepped in, blocking the student doctor from proceeding with the exam. Pope opened his eyes and focused on Jesse’s arm outstretched over him.

“I’m the doctor, though. I’m supposed to do the exam, and you’re supposed to record and assist.” Student Doctor Ogilvie’s voice remained monotone, but his eyebrow raised, and he looked sharply at Jesse. Pope thought he was aiming for intimidation over the nurse, and that made his blood boil even more.

“However, we should do what we can to make the patient feel more comfortable, don’t you think? Andrew and I have built a rapport, and I believe it would be better if I did the exam. Would you prefer that, Andrew?” Jesse looked at Pope for confirmation, which was given in the form of tense nods. Pope hadn’t stopped glaring at the student doctor for the last several seconds. Flashes of memories assaulted him as the man towered over him. His jaw was aching from how tightly it was clenched, and he had to work to his jaw enough to not be painful. 

Jeezus! You need to relax. They might be able to give you some ketamine or Xanax to help you chill out for a bit. Those aren’t any more addictive than heroin. Pope was shaking with tension again. His hands clenched tightly, and he used the pain to ground himself.

The student doctor rolled his eyes and gestured for Jesse to take over. “Okay. This should be really quick anyway, as long as you don’t go crazy again.”

Pope stilled. A sudden calm washed over him. He stared hard at the student doctor. He heard his blood rushing in his head and coloring his ears in embarrassment and rage. His fists were clenched so tightly he wondered if there would be blood in his palms when he opened them. He wanted to draw anyone’s blood so much that it didn’t even matter if it was his own.

“I told Doctor Robby I didn’t want to hurt people. Don’t make me a liar.” Pope’s voice dipped into a low, gravely growl. Smurf laughed and backed away.

Ogilvie's eyes widened, and he took a step back. He looked between Jesse, Pope, and the security guard outside. Pope’s blood was so loud in his ears that he almost wanted the security guard to attempt to restrain him. He’d love a good fight right now, even if it would just end with a needle jammed into his thigh and him waking up in restraints. He could practically smell the bloodlust rolling off of him. 

Jesse straightened and raised his hands in a placating gesture, “That is not how we talk to patients. Let's step out, shall we?” he led the younger man to the door, opening the curtain and walking purposely out and around a corner. Before the door shut behind him, Pope heard Jesse calling someone named Dana. Smurf gave him a wink and walked out with them.

Several minutes later, Jesse and Doctor Langdon knocked and entered the room. “My apologies, Andrew. Student Doctor Ogilvie was out of line and will not be working with you for the rest of your time here.” Doctor Langdon said with his usual, arms-crossed posture. He looked on edge but seemed apologetic about Ogilvie’s missteps.

“Would you allow us to examine your wounds? We can start with your head, arms, and legs, then move on to your neck and torso?” Doctor Langdon stayed about halfway between Pope and the door. Jesse walked a few paces in but held his hands down by his side. His right hand was hidden behind his thigh. He had a guilty look on his face.

Pope was still fuming. He knew he shouldn’t trust this place. They finally saw how dangerous he was. This was just a ploy to distract him while they sedated him. They could do whatever they wanted to him then. He remained silent and watched Jesse’s right arm. He couldn’t speak even if he wanted to, with how angry he was. 

“Andrew, I assure you, Student Doctor Ogilvie did not speak for the rest of us. I’m not sure why he came in to assist, but he will not be coming back in here, okay? If you would like to file a complaint, I can provide the information on how to do so as well.” Doctor Langdon stayed for several moments in the silence, seemingly oblivious to the awkwardness of the moment. 

The doctor turned toward the door and looked out into the bull pen area, then back at Pope, considering. “We should have enough light to do the exam with the light off if you prefer?” 

Pope hesitantly nodded once and watched as the doctor moved towards the light switch and flicked it off. 

“Its a little chaotic out there. Pretty distracting, huh?” He drew the curtain shut slowly, being mindful of the noise the rings made as they skittered across the rod. Pope’s eyes tracked his every movement, but glanced back at Jesse’s right hand every few seconds. 

Doctor Langdon walked slowly towards the monitor that had started beeping again, only an hour after they had originally turned it off. He pressed a few buttons, and the beeping quieted down, much softer than normal. After that, he rolled a stool up to Pope’s left and took a seat. 

“Andrew, can you tell me how you’re feeling right now?”

Tears suddenly welled up in Pope’s eyes. Was this some ploy? Or did they actually care? Couldn’t they see he was too far gone to save? Couldn’t they see that every second they spent with him was just adding to the risk of injury?

The silence stretched, and for once Pope was the uncomfortable one. He squirmed under the blanket. He tried to avoid the two men’s gaze but had nowhere to hide.

“Do all of you doctors just care about feelings, or is this an East Coast-specific thing?” The sarcasm fell flat as it rolled off Pope’s tongue. He tried again to cover his momentary lapse of control. “Why don’t you just do what you came in here to do and get it over with?”

Doctor Langdon and Jesse shared a glance, “What do you think we're here to do? We just want to see if you’re okay with us doing the follow-up exam.” Doctor Langdon’s voice never faltered. It was similar to the tone that every other doctor before him had used, minus the condescension. He had managed to sound completely genuine. 

“You came in here ready to sedate me after I threatened that fuckwit out there.” Pope deadpanned. He tried to look like he didn’t care. He knew it was their best course of action.

Doctor Langdon and Jesse looked at each other. Pope could tell that a million things were said in that quick look, but couldn’t for the life of him interpret what was said. Finally, Doctor Langdon turned back to Pope, “I will admit that we were concerned that you wouldn’t be this calm after that last interaction, and we wanted options to prevent you from hurting yourself or others. We see now that we were mistaken. I’m sorry for assuming.” He looked back at Jesse and nodded towards the door. Jesse nodded as well, then left the room. 

Pope was stunned into silence. All his anger melted out of him and was replaced with something different. Something so specific and nameless he couldn't even describe it. He quickly looked over Doctor Langdon, sure that he had missed something. They wouldn’t just let him threaten one of their own and not get beaten or punished in some other way for it. What kind of Doctors apologize to their patients for how another doctor spoke? He pushed the palms of his hands into his eyes to try and relieve the pressure building in his head and growled. It was too much. If this was how doctors are supposed to be, then why had all the others been so horrible to him? Why had he never been good enough to be listened to or taken seriously? 

Jesse returned and held his hands open for Pope to see that they were empty. He looked apologetic and mumbled something that Pope couldn't hear. Pope didn’t think he needed to apologize for anything. 

“Why are you doing this?” He snapped. His voice rose, but he carefully kept his hands and body still. “Why do you care so fucking much? Just be normal! Stop asking all these questions like you actually care what the answer is!”

Doctor Langdon’s face turned to a frown. “We do care about you. We only want what's best for our patients.”

“Doctors aren’t supposed to care. Not when you’re crazy. You get paid under the table to keep people like me pliant and easily controlled. Ignore all the signs as long as you get paid to fix the injury so that I can keep on being a good little soldier. If you were normal, you would’ve called the fucking police and let me sit in a cell until my parole officer got here.” Pope realized he was raving like a madman. He wanted to stop. He couldn’t. He brought his knees up to his chest despite the pain. 

“You’re supposed to dope me up, tell me how awful I am, and how much of a burden I am to everyone. Then, if you think I’ve been an especially difficult patient, you give me enough tranquilizers to knock out a horse and fuck me ‘til I can’t walk. Sometimes, get your colleagues in on the action if you want to make some more money. That is what doctors do. They don’t actually fucking care.” He became aware that he was rocking like he had done incessantly when he was a kid. “You don’t care. Not about me.”

He was breathing heavily and felt like his head was going to implode. His head was in his hands again. He could feel moisture on his cheeks where a few errant tears had escaped. “FUCK!” His mind was unraveling like an old knit sweater. He was losing control- no, he had already lost it. And by speaking the truth, he had brought it into existence. These doctors knew how he was normally treated, and they wouldn’t have to hide their true intentions. They knew that he wouldn’t have anyone to tell about the abuse of power; he would let it continue unhindered. 

“Andrew, Andrew, hey, listen to me.” It was Doctor Langdon. Pope cracked an eye open. He saw that the two men both had stools to sit on now and were sitting just out of arm's reach on either side of him. He had a feeling Doctor Langdon had been calling his name for some time. 

“Hey, there we go, listen, what those doctors did is unethical, immoral, and in defiance of their Hippocratic oath. That's not normal, and they should be ashamed of their actions. We do not tolerate anything of the sort here.” Doctor Langdon held Pope’s gaze with a ferocity that startled Pope. “We will never do that to you, okay? If someone even thinks about doing that here, they will never step foot in a hospital again, and they will spend the rest of their life in prison, do you understand me?”

Pope sniffed and tried to regain his composure. Running his fingers through his hair, he realized how damp and tangled it was. He tried to untangle it as he untangled his thoughts. Jesse and the doctor had unintentionally rolled closer to him during his breakdown. Jesse telegraphed his movements as he placed his hand on Pope's forearm. 

The dam broke, and Pope couldn’t contain the tears. They blurred his vision and streamed down his face. He kept his breathing even, determined not to get hysterical. 

“Its not fair.” It sounded whiny on his lips, but it was too late. “I didn’t want to be this way.”

“You’re right. It's not fair. You should never have had to go through that.” Doctor Langdon leaned forward with his elbows on his knees as he looked Pope in the eyes. Jesse’s hand stayed firmly on his arm, acting as an anchor to keep him from floating away or sinking through the bed into hell. 

“I’m sorry.” Pope felt small and helpless. He took a deep breath to steady himself.

“Its okay. Nothing to apologize for.” Jesse said. 

They sat with Pope for several minutes in silence while he calmed down. A nurse broke the reverie by walking in and telling Doctor Langdon that a trauma patient was coming in and they would need him. He and Jesse quickly examined Pope’s wounds and reassured him that they would care for him to the best of their abilities and left. 

Pope was exhausted. He felt like an empty husk of a person. The crying had long since stopped, and the intrusive thoughts sat quietly out of the way for once. He wanted the floor to open up and swallow him whole but settled for a dreamless sleep instead.

Chapter Text

Doctor Langdon and Jesse were gathering the team working with Mr. Cody. It took several minutes for Doctor Jefferson and Doctor Robby to be in the same place at the same time, but when they all gathered in the break room, Langdon felt sweaty and nervous, both because of the topic and because Robby looked like he wanted to bolt. 

“Jesse and I just had a pretty intense conversation with Andrew. Several things have come to light, and I think it drastically affects how we should provide care.” He looked at Jesse for support. The man’s eyebrows were drawn together, and he had a solemn frown on his face. 

“We knew that Andrew was drugged by his mother and the “doctors” at the prison. We just found out that the doctors at Folsom were using the medications to rape him and sell his body to others at the prison. I don’t think he has ever had a good experience with medical staff before this.”

The room stayed silent. Every single person in the room reflected on how their actions contributed to the medical trauma. Robby thought about the morphine vs restraints ultimatum he gave and felt sick to his stomach. Mel thought about how she touched his shoulder and tried to help him take off the gown. Her face paled at the memory—the thought about how apologetic he was for something that didn’t even bruise. Caleb had had his suspicions, but didn’t think it was going to be that perverse. He understood the resentment Andrew had for him in their first meeting.  

“His visions seem to be getting worse as well. To the point of yelling at the visions and getting extremely agitated when they are present. As I said before, they are telling him that he should have died. He is adamant that he will not listen to them, but he also seems to be increasingly paranoid about what anyone is doing in his room.” Jesse added to break the silence. Langdon nodded in agreement, thankful for Robby’s eyes to be off of him for the time being.

“With that, sudden movements, loud noises, and unexpected touch are key items that are known to cause acute distress. He is also extremely distrustful of new people. I would suggest that when the night shift gets here, we introduce them one by one with one of us present to help build that relationship.” Doctor Langdon put forth his plan, knowing that it shouldn’t be too much of an issue. 

“Abbott is here, we can introduce him now before he leaves, so he has a familiar face if we get busy. Have we figured out the story there?” Robby wasn’t too keen on having to introduce the two, but didn’t see any other option.

“I asked Andrew if he knew him. He said he only knows the five of us.” Jesse added. It wasn’t often that he was in meetings this large about a patient, but Langdon noted that he seemed especially trusting of Jesse, and so he agreed to join. 

“I don’t think that will be a fun meeting, with his hallucinations getting worse. We will, unfortunately, have to be prepared for the worst.” Caleb added. 

“We should probably find out more about these hallucinations and test the waters a bit before we drop him in the deep end,” Robby said as he scratched the back of his neck. 

“He seemed to have an instant connection with Mel and Jesse. And I think I’m starting to break through to him. Maybe one of us could be the one to introduce the two?” Langdon suggested. He looked at Mel to see how she felt about the situation.

“Oh, me? Are you sure?” Mel was surprised to hear this. Surely after she caused him to panic, she wouldn’t be the first choice to interact with him.

“Only if you’re comfortable with it. We also don’t want to keep Abbott too long if your deposition is ongoing.” Robby assured her. He didn’t want her to stress anymore than necessary today.

She checked her phone. “Oh, yeah its in about thirty minutes. I don’t think I’ll have time.”

“That's okay, it can probably be any of us except me, at least not alone. I’ve spent the least amount of time with him, and we haven’t built a relationship yet.” Robby looked down at his shoes, reminded of how his biases have impacted patient care. 

“He does better with lower light settings and with one or two people in the room instead of multiples. Getting down to his eye level, minimizing unnecessary noise, and giving him opt-out options have helped me and Jesse get him to open up.” Langdon ran his hand through his hair and worried with his ring. 

“Explaining to patients what we’re doing before we take action has been shown to significantly improve a patient’s trust in doctors,” Mel said. She was glad they were having this conversation, as hard as it was. Andrew needed as many people on his side as he could get.

“Yeah, we need to do what we can to minimize stress for him right now. Once Abbot gets back, I’ll pull him aside and talk with him. Don’t want him getting caught up in surprises either.” Robby said. The conversation dissipated naturally, and he exited before Caleb could rope him into another conversation. 

*****

“Abbot, I need to talk to you before you leave. Got a moment?” Robby thought he had missed his chance to tell him about his doppelganger in Psych One.

The other doctor turned at his name and led them off to the side. “Yeah, man, what's up?”

Robby looked apprehensive and like he wanted to do anything but have this conversation. “You, um, you have family in California, right? Your mother’s side?”

Abbott was instantly on edge. Very few things rattled the man, and this topic hit home. “I haven’t had any contact with them in nearly forty years.” The trepidation was evident in his voice.

“Yeah, I know,” Robby’s hand went to his neck as he avoided the other man’s intense gaze, suddenly realizing how similar Jack and Andrew acted, “listen, I think a family member of yours is in Psych One. His name is Andrew (Pope) Cody. He’s from LA. He’s describing things that align with what you’ve said about your mom, and he looks a lot like you.”

Jack lowered his head but not his gaze. His posture was stiff and rigid. “Send him up to psych. Why is he still down here?” 

“They don’t have the room, and his injuries are too severe for them to take him or for discharge.” 

“Fuck man,” Abbott broke the stare and looked down at his shoes. He and his dad thought Pennsylvania would be far enough to never have to worry about Smurf and her crew. He had even changed his name. How the hell are the Codys here in the Pitt?

“Now that you mention it, I remember seeing him earlier. With everything else going on, I thought it was a trick of my imagination. Anyone else here with him?” Abbott looked down the hallway at the door to Psych One as if he could see the person inside from this angle. 

“No, he’s here alone. Seems like the Codys are the reason he’s here in such bad shape.” Robby was the one intensely watching Abbott now. 

Abbott moved towards the room, as if pulled by an invisible force. He had to see him, despite the alarm bells ringing in his ears. He had to see if his brother was actually here. 

Robby held out a hand and stopped him, “Jack, he’s not doing well. He’s in withdrawal from clozapine and thioridazine. He has several violent injury wounds and is suffering from hallucinations.” Abbott moved to side step him, but Robby stopped his progress again. “The big thing, though, is that he was severely abused, physically, mentally, and sexually by several previous doctors.” 

Abbot looked at him in shock as he processed the information. He wanted to kick the guy out of his hospital. He wanted to lay into him for daring to cross into his side of the country. He leaned against the wall and stared into space, trying to think of what to do.

“I know there is bad blood between the Abbotts and the Codys, but he’s distrustful of medical staff and needs a gentle introduction. He’s a patient, and his care comes before your feelings. He’s too traumatized for anything else.” Robby told him sternly.

Abbott cocked his head and looked at the other man. He pursed his lips as he took a second to think before he said anything dumb. Robby was just reminding him of the ‘duty first, feelings later’ attitude they had adopted long ago, and he knew he was right.

“Yeah, yeah, you’re right.” The two men deflated as the tension washed away. “Should I wait to speak with him until my shift or just get it out of the way?”

“We want to slowly introduce night shift as they come in to minimize stress. You will probably be the hardest introduction, and we think it would be best to get it out of the way so that he has time to process seeing you around the ER before it comes down to it. Is Shen oncoming as well?” Robby hoped Jack wouldn’t have to interact too much with Andrew, but knew the chances were slim.

“No, they only scheduled one of us, and I’m the lucky bastard that volunteered for today. He’s on standby, though.” Abbott ran his hand through his hair and down his face, putting his feelings about the situation to the side.

“Okay, let's do this,” Abbott pushed himself off the wall and started walking. Robby put a comforting hand on his shoulder and walked beside him to face his past. 

Chapter Text

Doctor Robby and Doctor Langdon entered his room, and Pope was instantly on edge. Something was off. The two stood as far apart from each other as possible, and the tension in the room was palpable. 

They heard about you threatening that asshole doctor. Though, can you really call him an asshole if it's true? Baz stage whispered into his ear. Pope frowned and shooed him away. He knew interacting with the visions made him look crazier than usual, but it was the best way to get them out of his personal space. Baz smelled like whiskey and sweat and was overall, too close to him. 

“Andrew, how are you feeling?” Doctor Robby asked in an unusually chipper voice. Pope caught a glance of his alternative self on the other side of the door and glared at it. He was already dealing with Baz; he didn’t need the embodiment of his regrets to visit him now as well. 

“Its a little early for your rounds. Doctor Langdon and Nurse Jesse just checked me out not half an hour ago. They said I was doing well.” Pope tried to look confident and not like his heart was beating out of his chest or that he was sweating gallons.

“Yes, they told me that your wounds are doing as well as expected. We came by for a different reason, though.” Doctor Robby scratched his neck and looked away. Pope wondered if it was a tell or just a habit. Doctor Langdon kept looking between the door and Pope. His arms were crossed in a tense way that the previous iterations weren’t. 

Pope willed his breathing to be steady. He tried to look calm, like a compliant patient, not like the dangerous psycho that he was. He remained silent, urging Doctor Robby to say his piece. 

“You don’t know anyone in Pittsburgh, right?” Doctor Langdon asked. 

The question was so out of the blue that Pope could only stare in disbelief. He furrowed his brow as he tried to recall everyone he ever knew.  He shook his head once, “No. Not that I know of. Why?”

The door opened, and his alternative self walked in. He alternated glaring at Baz and Himself. Baz wolf whistled, You think you could become a doctor? Thats insane. You couldn’t even pass anatomy in high school. Who would ever trust you to be a doctor anyway?

“Go away!” Pope growled at Baz. He didn’t need this right now. He needed to focus on what these doctors were saying. 

“Hey Pope, long time no see.” He stood with his feet shoulder-width apart, his hands behind his back. He wore a black T-shirt and the camo pants from earlier. 

Pope ignored him. He tried to blink away the visions. Tried to remind himself that he was in the middle of a conversation with a couple of doctors, whose opinion of him really mattered. “What was the reason you stopped by? Are you bringing me flowers or something?”

There was an awkward pause. Doctor Langdon and Doctor Robby shared glances, the tension between them dissipating, but growing in the room. 

“Andrew, it's Jack.” His alternate self said. They stared at each other. An unreadable tension captivated Jack’s face. 

Oh, this is new. Baz said. I thought you only ever saw Jack as a kid. Isn’t it a little weird that you think he’d look this similar to you? You are only half-siblings.

“If you’re just going to stare at me, I’m gonna go back to sleep. The drugs you’re giving me are actually letting me sleep for once.” Pope deadpanned. He was getting really tired of whatever was going on. 

“Andrew, we thought this would be more of a surprise to you. We wanted to let you get used to it before his shift started.” Doctor Langdon said, by way of explanation. 

“Get used to what? You haven’t said anything. You’re just staring at me. I can’t read your minds.” Pope could feel his frustration bubbling up. These doctors already knew too much about him; now, they wanted to play games?

“This is Doctor Jack Abbott. He’s the night shift attending.” Doctor Robby looked at Jack and then did the most insane thing. He put his hand on his shoulder and said, “He used to go by Jack Cody when he was a kid.”

Pope looked around the room and shook his head. He quickly glanced between the doctors, Jack, and Baz. Baz seemed just as shocked as he was. The two doctors stood on either side of Jack, with Doctor Robby’s hand still planted firmly on Jack's shoulder. 

“Fuck.” Pope muttered. This was not good. He couldn’t tell what was real and what was fake anymore. His delusions were starting to look and talk like doctors, and that meant he was too far gone. He needed to get out of this hospital and far away from society until he wrestled his brain under control. 

“Andrew, we’re sorry we didn’t tell you earlier, but Jack is going to be the night shift attending, which means you’ll probably see him around.” Doctor Langdon said. His voice was low and soft. He tried to catch Pope’s eyes, but he refused to look at them. 

Pope squeezed his eyes together and dug his nails into his arm. His breathing was way too quick now, and he felt like he couldn’t get enough oxygen into his lungs. 

Doctor Langdon moved cautiously to the stool, nearly sitting on Baz, who yelped and scrambled away,  in the process. “I know it's a lot, but I need you to breathe, okay?” Doctor Langdon walked Pope through a couple of slow breaths. Pope tried to follow but felt like he was drowning. 

“You’re digging your nails into your arm. If you would like, you can hold my hand instead.” Doctor Langdon put his right hand on the bed, palm up, mere inches away from Pope’s side. 

He didn’t care that Baz was jeering at him. He didn't care how weird it was to hold a stranger's hand. He needed something to ground him before he spiraled too far. He clasped outstretched hand and gasped. It was real. Doctor Langdon was real. Doctor Langdon was real, and he was talking about Jack. Which means that Jack was real. Jack was real. 

“You’re really here. All of you are here.” The astonishment was evident in his face and voice. He looked sharply at Baz, “He’s not here, is he? Baz?” He held Doctor Langdon’s hand up to look at it and touch it with his other hand. Doctor Langdon jumped a little with the soft touch to the back of his hand. 

“I’m here.” Doctor Langdon’s eyes were slightly red and watery. “I’m here, Andrew. So are Doctor Robby and Doctor Abbott.” He looked around, “It's only us four in here. No one else. You haven’t had any visitors either.” 

Pope looked back up at the two older men, who were watching him with their own cacophony of emotions. Robby glanced between Pope and Jack. His arm now hung loosely around his friend’s shoulders. Jack stood with a stony expression. His posture was still as stiff and rigid as before. He had his head tilted and looked down his nose slightly at Pope. It was an expression Pope knew all too well, one he himself wore often. He could practically feel the anger boiling underneath his skin.

“Jack, I,” Pope was at a loss for words. What could he say to someone who never wanted to see him again? He shook his head. “You’re in Pittsburgh? I didn’t mean to come here. This wasn’t my doing.”

Jack swallowed and looked down, “I know. Robby told me.” He closed his eyes and blinked a few times. He started to speak, but bit his lip instead. “He told me everything.”

Pope’s breathing had settled a bit. Tears welled up in his eyes. What would Jack think of him after all these years? What would he say about Pope becoming some asshole’s bitch in prison? Did he think he was so tainted that he, too, thought he should’ve given up last night in the street?

Pope blinked away the tears and looked at the ceiling. He took in a shaky breath and said, “I’ll leave. The doctors say I need to stay a few days, and I’m meeting my parole officer tomorrow. I was going to try to stay in Pittsburgh, away from… from everything. But I’ll go back. You won't have to deal with me for too much longer. I’ll try not to interrupt your work.” Pope started to rework his plans. He could probably sneak in, grab his stash of cash, then move to some other part of town. He knew his family’s usual haunts, and he should be able to avoid them until his parole was up. 

“You’re going back?” Doctor Langdon exclaimed from his side. Pope realized the grip he had on the other man’s hand and let it gently fall from his. Doctor Langdon kept his hand where it fell as an open invitation.

Pope didn’t say anything. He resolutely schooled his face into what he thought was careful neutrality. His chin quivered. He didn’t trust himself to speak, so he gave his signature, shaky nod instead. 

“They said you were kidnapped, stabbed, shot, drugged, and left for dead by The Family, and you’re going back?” Jack dropped his hands to his side and took a step forward, leaving the comfort of his friend behind. 

“You and your dad made it clear that you never wanted to see the Codys ever again.” Pope tilted, then straightened his head as he spoke the logic behind his words. “I am trying to respect your wishes to stay out of your life.”  Pope couldn’t look at his brother. A giant pit was opening in his chest that emanated shame and despair at a level he had only felt once before. 

“Andrew, we tried to bring you with us. Dad tried to get custody of you and Julia, but Smurf paid off the judges. He did what he could.” Jack took another step closer. His face had lost the stern, cold look and instead held an open and sad expression. “Andrew, if you go back, they’ll kill you.”

Pope avoided his gaze. He clenched his fists multiple times in the blankets. Open and closed. Open and closed. He whispered, “You’ll still be free.” 

“No, no. We wanted to be free from Smurf. Not you. Not Julia." Jack's expression was too much to bear.

"I'm not a good person, Jack. You don't want me anywhere near you." Pope's voice was so low it was almost a whisper.

"You’re here now. You never wanted to be her puppet. If Smurf thinks you’re dead, you can start over. It’ll be easier with a helping hand.” Jack took the final step to his bed. He leaned against the footrest and finally captured Pope’s gaze. “If you want out, now’s your chance, but it’s your only chance. I won't lay out my entire life just for you to come in and fuck it all up, okay? No robberies, no theft, nothing illegal, okay?” 

Jack’s voice sent a shiver down Pope’s spine. He gasped out the breath he was holding. He couldn’t believe it. He could stay. He didn’t have to go back to certain death. He could finally make a life for himself outside of Smurf’s influence. 

“Okay. Yes. I agree.” A smile was working its way up his face and tears spilled over, “Thank you. Thank you so much. You won’t regret this I promise.”