Woe. Will no one create a Shaadi tag?
Characters: Shaadi (quietwatcher), Yami (idonthaveityet), Kamui (NPC)
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Dr. Kamui vs. Professor Akelae. It's Psychologist Tennis, and Yami's the ball.
First Set:
Shaadi made the first move; he visited the asylum and asked why both Kaibas had been banned from seeing Yami.
Dr. Kamui countered by stating that was Yami's wishes, but made the mistake of adding that Shaadi had no business interfering in the matter anyway.
Shaadi pointed out that as a government official tasked to Domino University, Yami was still under his jurisdiction. Point to Shaadi.
Dr. Kamui smiled, and stated that Yami wanted to drop out of university. Point to Kamui.
Shaadi was silent, then demanded visitation rights.
Dr. Kamui had no choice but to acquiesce. Point to Shaadi.
Match: Shaadi. Score: 2-1.
Second Set:
Yami didn't like the visiting room, so much as he did or didn't like anything and he'd thought that after a lifetime's worth of faces he didn't recognize crammed into one week he wouldn't see it again. But he pretended he didn't mind it because Dr. Kamui told him to smile and stay quiet until he was spoken to and be very polite and Yami could do that and Yami would do that, and that solved all the problems right there, didn't it? And smiling felt funny but he smiled at the visitor like he recognized him because he had seen the face before although he was no longer entirely sure what that face meant.
The doctor, he suspected, was playing a game. Because he sat across the table from the visitor, and there could've been a chessboard between them, except that Yami couldn't see it. Was it a chessboard? He was no longer entirely sure he had the distinction between chessboards and checkerboards and backgammon boards and go boards and all the other boards because after knights blurred into rooks it was only a matter of time before whole games sort of became...confused. And the only thing that escaped that confusion was the fact that the doctor always won and Yami would always lose.
But he wasn't confused now, because he knew what he was supposed to do. Near as he could tell, at least. Near as he could know anything, which wasn't much, but was still something. He sat down on the doctor's side of the table, faltering only momentarily at the idea of sitting in a chair beside Dr. Kamui, instead of on the floor at his feet or in his lap, as usual. The doctor hadn't explained much of anything to him, but he had said that Yami wasn't to act as he did when they were alone while they were in public, wasn't to cling to him or any of the other things the doctor expected of him in front of other people, because they were bad people. They'd take Yami away from the doctor if they saw that; they'd use any excuse they could get.
And Yami didn't want to be taken away. And the visitor might take him away, too. And he couldn't have that. Ever. So he smiled as best he could, and sat down calmly, and hoped the doctor would give him more directions soon.
Dr. Kamui moved his leg to the side slightly so that it pressed against Yami's, a comforting reminder of his physical presence. The boy had been trained to react to such little cues, after all, and this was the test of how well Dr. Kamui had him under control. Keeping both hands folded on the table, noticeably within eyesight, Dr. Kamui suggested to Yami in a calm, professional tone, "Yami, Dr. Akelae would like to know how you feel about the idea of returning to university."
Shaadi couldn't find any fault with how Dr. Kamui had phrased the question. It had been balanced, and not leading. Soft, cloudy blue eyes looked at Yami, waiting for an answer. While Seto's eyes were a bright, sharp blue, shocking in their clarity and coldness, Shaadi's were a softer, more muted shade. Like the sky on a clear summer day, where the heat-mirages made it seem to shimmer and melt in on itself.
Yami caught himself before he looked to the doctor for guidance; that was one of the things he wasn't supposed to do in public. Instead, he stared directly at Shaadi, trying to figure out what to make of his eyes. Not the same as Kaiba's, no, but they were still a sort of blue all the same. And more than Kaiba could've been, Shaadi was a threat. And Yami himself was powerless to resist threats, too weak to do anything but allow other people to take from him, but that was all right because that was what he was meant to be and the doctor took care of him anyway.
"I don't want to go back," he started softly. Not at all; he hated that place. Hated everything in it and everything about it, except that he still didn't hate so hate was the wrong word. He didn't like it there. Although his feelings about things didn't matter. And why should they matter? They were his feelings, after all. No one important's. "I don't like it there," he continued, voice fairly flat but steady as he tried to come up with more things to say, to make the answer complete enough. "I was wrong when I thought I could do well there. It's not the right place for me."
He paused there, still not entirely sure what he was saying, and gave Shaadi a questioning look. Had that been enough?
"I see." Shaadi watched Yami steadily for any sign of unease. His words were so flat, as if he'd been trained what to say and he spoke in generalities. Again, as if they were not really his thoughts.
Carefully, tone calm and reassuring, he asked Yami, "Why do you dislike it there, and where do you consider your right place to be?"
Dr. Kamui winced mentally at the last part of the question. If Yami said that he belonged in the asylum or with Dr. Kamui, then Shaadi would get highly suspicious or at the very least, insist that Yami be shifted to a different sector where Dr. Kamui wouldn't have any control over him. The point was to make patients better, after all, not make them want to stay.
Why? Yami blinked at the question, stalled for a moment. He didn't have opinions, not really, not anymore; he wasn't allowed them. They were irrelevant. Trying rationalize feelings he didn't even actually have -- he didn't know what to do. But that was normal. So this shouldn't have made him so uneasy. But it did. But there was nothing to do about that. But he had to do something. But Dr. Kamui was touching him and that helped some. His touch always did. Even when it hurt. Because even hurt showed him his place. And better to know pain than to lose track of his place.
"It hurts," Yami said, nodding more to himself than Shaadi. He could put on faces and sound genuine. He'd done it before, done it when pretending to enjoy and to want what the doctor did to him was the only way to get the things he needed. And the thing he needed now was the doctor, was to be left alone with him so everything could go back to the way things had been and everything would be perfectly fine. Because things weren't going to be fine if he didn't answer the questions properly and what would he do then he didn't know what to do then and
"Being there, I mean." And his voice dropped to an uncertain whisper, "And Marik's there." Because it was easy to act out fear when a tight hysteria was already growing steadily in him: abject terror at the thought of being taken away from the doctor. Because Shaadi couldn't know how pathetic Yami was, how much he needed the doctor; most people could surely tell from looking just how worthless he was, but Shaadi must not have seen that because he was still trying to help somehow, acting as if Yami's opinions meant something and "I'm not really good at school anyway. Never was."
Moment's hesitation. One more question to answer. "I don't know what my place is." He didn't know anything. "But I know it isn't there, and I don't want to go back."
Dr. Kamui's leg pressed gently against Yami's, a small sign of approval for an answer well-given. Point to Dr. Kamui, played via Yami.
"Would you like to go home?" Shaadi asked, putting aside for the moment the question of whether Yami was good at school or not. After all, his grades had seemed decent, certainly better than some people's. It was a complete fallacy for the boy to say that he wasn't any good at it -- but somehow, Shaadi doubted that the heart of the issue was academic problems.
Not when Marik was so much of an issue.
Mentally debating for a few moments, Shaadi then inquired, "And would you feel more comfortable about returning to school if I could promise you Marik would not be there?"
Promise what? Yami stared, trying to figure out what Shaadi was talking about. Marik had won. Why would Marik have to leave? Marik wasn't the weak one who fell apart and deserved to have everything taken from him. Marik won, and that meant Marik got whatever he wanted; that was the way it worked. You won and you had everything, or you lost and you had nothing. There was no middle ground. ...Or perhaps Shaadi was just that much stronger than Marik? He didn't look it, but Yami wasn't sure.
And home, that another confusing question, because surely Shaadi didn't think he was wanted there. Yuugi hadn't even come to visit him, and why would he? As a brother, just as in everything else, Yami was an utter failure. And no one should have to have a brother like him, one who was good for nothing but playing whore to people who were able to force him. And Yuugi had been the first one to realize that Yami was worthless, which was why he didn't believe him, why he was so quick to think Yami was a liar and a slut. And he'd been right. Crack him open and dig into the innermost parts and all you had was a pathetic, lying whore.
A pathetic, lying whore who had a place here, in the asylum, where the doctor was. And nowhere else. No one else would have him, and he didn't mind that. Dr. Kamui took care of him.
"I can't go home the way I am," Yami said finally. "That wouldn't help things at all." Nothing would, because there was nothing worth helping about him, and he'd never be anything more than what he was now, which was just about nothing, too. "And even without Marik, there's still Kaiba, and everyone else." Bit of a pleading expression now, because maybe that would help. "It wouldn't change things. I don't want to go back there. Ever."
Kaiba? Shaadi blinked slightly, and tilted his head at Yami, turban magically failing to slip as he continued to watch Yami with that neutral, gentle expression. Quietly, he asked, "What is your problem with Kaiba? Also, why did you tell him that you could not see him?"
Dr. Kamui pondered that question for a moment, trying to see if he could accuse Shaadi of leading the patient. No. Shaadi had asked two separate questions, both of them perfectly within his rights. He still wasn't discovering anything though, despite his textbook-perfect technique.
Dr. Kamui had trained Yami too well for that.
But training or no, Yami still faltered, had to force himself not to glance to his side for instruction. The other questions had been easier than one that he knew the answer to and couldn't say. He was too stupid to save himself and too dull come up with a plan of his own, never had been capable and never would be, and he knew that, and Dr. Kamui proved that to him, but he wasn't enough of an idiot to tell the truth. Shaadi would take him away then, definitely, and it would be his fault just like everything else and he didn't want anything else to fall apart because of him because wasn't himself falling apart through his own uselessness enough?
"I don't want to talk about it," he answered finally, voice a bit tighter than usual. Lies and lies and lies, but if it could fool Shaadi, he'd do it. Throat constricting strangely, but maybe he could have a momentary lapse in his worthlessness and use that to his advantage. "I can't yet. I haven't...." Yami bit his lip and looked down and to the side, mimicking the pitiful gesture Mahaado made so often. Did he even remember Mahaado? Felt like forever ago.
Swallowed hard, felt strange without the collar tight around his throat, then blinked away the threat of imaginary tears -- he didn't have real ones, not like Mahaado after all -- and looked back up at Shaadi. "It's complicated," he said, and he tried his hardest to sound sure of himself. It didn't work, but that might help his case all the more. "Having him here -- I didn't feel that I could...bear it so soon. I'm still not ready yet. Must we talk about this now?" He punctuated the question by averting his gaze pointedly again, sinking his teeth into his lower lip. Learned something after all, and from Mahaado no less.
"...I understand," Shaadi lied, keeping the sympathetic look on his face. What could Kaiba have done to make Mutou so -- well, off-balance? He looked traumatized, but as if he was trying to hide it, to deal and recover with it.
Coping strategies. The asylum could not be so bad if they were at least teaching Yami how to recover... But still, this was odd. Kaiba. Sociopathic, yes, but very quick to affirm his asexuality. And he was one of the few people who had never missed an Ethics class.
Frowning inwardly, Shaadi considered that, wondering what Kaiba could have done that asking questions about him invoked such reactions. It was odd... A particularly persistent rumor drifting through his mind, as well as the memory of how surprising it had been to find an e-mail from Kaiba in his inbox, Shaadi asked softly, "Were the two of you involved?"
Dr. Kamui objected there, instantly telling Shaadi in his most clipped manner, "Professor, Mutou-kun said that he didn't want to discuss Kaiba with you. Please, respect the patient's wishes or I shall be forced to ask you to leave." Point to Kamui.
Shaadi disliked that greatly; both the threat of being kicked out by someone who was treating a patient that should have been his, and the tone that Dr. Kamui employed. Still calm though, showing no sign of his momentary flicker of annoyance, Shaadi looked over at Yami and nodded, "I apologize, Mutou-kun. I did not wish to press you on a topic that you could feel was an uncomfortable one."
Yami nodded, giving no indication of his surprise at Shaadi's question (He and Kaiba?) or the rush of gratitude for the doctor's cutting in. The doctor liked to see him prove how grateful he was, of course, but that was decidedly not one of the "in public" behaviors. So he ignored the doctor entirely. Concentrate on this, and then Shaadi would leave, and then everything would be back to normal. ...He hoped the doctor wasn't displeased with him.
"It's all right," Yami said, focusing his attention on Shaadi. "It'll be okay again someday." He used to insist things like that, that everything would turn out right eventually because he wouldn't die and so long as he was living he still had a chance to change things, but that'd all been wrong. The only use it served was this now: deceiving Shaadi. It was worthless otherwise.
"I think I'm really starting to improve," he continued, voice as earnest as he could make it. Half-smile, looked sincere but still uncertain; it was neither. "I'm making a lot of progress. It'll take time, of course...." Had he always sounded so naive, so stupidly self-assured? What had possessed him to believe any of this? "But I'm willing to work for it, and I know things will get better eventually."
"That's very reassuring to hear, Mutou-kun," Shaadi said, slightly relieved. It did appear that Yami was doing well after all, despite all the suspicious signs from earlier. But still, there was that journal entry. Why did Yami sound so much like himself now, yet had sounded so odd in that entry? It tickled at Shaadi's mind, confusing him slightly, and not letting him just drop the topic.
Glancing over at Dr. Kamui, Shaadi paused. Wait. Why was the man still here? True, Yami was his patient, but Shaadi was a qualified psychiatrist who technically outranked the other man. And if Dr. Kamui was here, it was possible that Yami was altering his reactions to fool the doctor, just as many of the more stubborn cases did.
So, polite as usual, Shaadi addressed Dr. Kamui directly, "Dr. Kamui, I must request that you leave the room so that I can speak in private with Mutou-kun."
Yami's heart stopped, but it didn't register on his face because he was too busy reeling trying to come up with a reaction to have time to look appalled. This wasn't what he'd thought he'd gotten himself into. The doctor was supposed to be there with him, not leaving him alone with this stranger with a stupid hat and questions Yami couldn't think of enough lies to answer and blue eyes that weren't quite Kaiba's but still had the power to take Yami away from his place and
This time he didn't stop himself, didn't have the presence of mind to, from turning to the doctor for guidance. He had no idea what to say, and the situation was now much further beyond what he was capable of handling on his own. He needed help.
Dr. Kamui swore inwardly. He had no reason to refuse that request or at least, none he could give that would not look suspicious. Still, knowing that to express any sign of displeasure towards Yami could make the boy crumble, Dr. Kamui gave Yami a reassuring smile and told him in a calm tone as if he had absolutely no problem with being forced to leave the room, "Yami, Professor Akelae wants to talk to you in private, but remember, you don't have to talk about anything that makes you uncomfortable, and if you need me, I'll be waiting outside in the hallway."
That bit of reassurance delivered, which would hopefully be enough to keep Yami from having a full-fledged meltdown at the enforced separation, Dr. Kamui rose to his feet and favored Shaadi with a slightly cold nod. "Professor, be careful what you broach with him. I would take it amiss if you disrupt his recovery or cause any setbacks."
With that, he swept out of the room. Point to Shaadi.
Match: Kamui. Score: 2-1.
Third Set:
The door shut with a dull thud, but that might just have been the cold weight that'd suddenly plummeted to the bottom of Yami's stomach. He felt ill. Feelings he hadn't previously had to deal with congealed in the pit of his stomach, oily black sludge that seemed impossibly dense. Sick, miserable, going to throw up, wanted to look back but forced himself not to. Alone. This wasn't supposed to have happened. Not at all.
But if he was stricken he took pains not to show it, looking up at Shaadi with the calmest expression he could manage. That was simple. He'd worn the same placid mask for all the other visitors. But all the other visitors had just been normal people and none of them had the power to separate Yami from the person who'd become the axis on which his world turned and none of them had ripped away the thing that was keeping him stable and none of them could take him away from his place from the doctor the doctor he needed permanently and
"What did you want to talk about, Professor?"
"Anything you feel open to discussing, Mutou-kun," Shaadi replied, keeping his tone neutral despite how much Dr. Kamui's attitude had grated at him. As if he needed to be reminded to treat patients with care? Not to mention that his little speech might have prejudiced Yami against him, what with the subtle implication that Shaadi would try to make him discuss that he wasn't comfortable with.
Ignoring that, Shaadi turned the question on Yami, not liking the format where the psychologist asked all the questions and the patient was forced to answer. Non-directive psychology was more his style. "What do you like to talk about?"
Yami frowned, confused. Reaction times slowing; too late to catch emotions from showing on his face when before nothing had broken the neutral mask he'd put on. This was not good at all.
And Shaadi was asking him inane questions like that? In what world did it matter what he liked to talk about? Nothing about him mattered, least of all ridiculous things like what he wanted to talk about. He talked about what he was spoken to about first, and that was very nearly it. It was definitely it now. And he wanted the doctor back. Looked down at the tabletop, this time not acting at all as he chewed his lip and tried to think of something. Anything. He didn't like to talk about anything. Didn't like anything.
"I don't know." He smiled weakly and tried to shrug his uneasiness off. "I'm not very particular."
"Then why don't you choose a topic, Mutou-kun? Like, your interests. What interests you?" Shaadi's method might seem oblique to people that didn't know him, but what the man was doing was forcing Yami to make decisions. The slight hesitation had been obvious, and the suspicion that Yami had been rattling off pre-prepared answers to the standard questions was now growing stronger.
That left Shaadi with the option of asking very odd questions indeed, or first giving Yami a choice to decide his own fate by seeing what degree of autonomy he had. Being merciful, he opted for the latter, but was willing to switch to the former if needed.
But he didn't have interests! Yami kept his face blank this time, paying more attention to the visual cues he gave after the last slip-up, but inwardly he cringed. Why Shaadi insisted on treating him as if he were normal instead of the broken up worthless thing he was was beyond Yami, but it bothered him. Bothered him that the doctor was gone, too, more and more with each passing second. Surely the visit time had to end. Or the doctor had to need him for something. Yes, that was a very good plan, yes, Dr. Kamui could arrive just about now and send Shaadi away and take Yami back to his room and then everything would be okay and
Interests. He didn't have any. Wasn't like most people. He was different. Being worthless made him a lot different. Empty shell of what people who were people expected to see. After all, if he had no opinions, he couldn't have interests, and then he had nothing to talk about and Shaadi might take him away from the doctor for good and he couldn't handle that and this was all becoming too much.
"Blue eyes," Yami said, nodding to reassure himself. That was an interest. It was near as he could come to one, anyway. "They're interesting. Kaiba has blue eyes. They unnerve me. Not all blue eyes, but not just his in particular either. Lots of blue eyes. You have blue eyes." He declined to mention whether they unnerved him or not; not a conscious omission, but rather the consequences of being too wound up now to even listen to the words coming out of his mouth. Had to keep talking, keep answering questions. Then Shaadi would go away, and everything would be okay again.
Well, that was unexpected. Mentally jotting down notes, Interests: Blue eyes. Picks out Kaiba as unnerving. States I have blue eyes, fails to mention if they unnerve him or not.
...Invest in sunglasses if future visits are needed?, Shaadi kept his soft blue gaze on Yami, blinking only once, and then lightly. Hands pressed gently together, fingertip against fingertip, Shaadi inquired mildly, "Why do blue eyes in particular unnerve you?"
He paused for a moment, and tone still neutral so as to not lead Yami into merely saying the 'right' answer, he asked also, "Do my eyes unnerve you?" He kept his wording as close to Yami's as he could, not wanting to guide the boy in any direction, but rather, act as a sounding board off which Yami could bounce his own thoughts.
Unnerve. Unnerve; he kept saying that. Repeating it. Yami's own eyes -- not blue, of course, but not grey either -- narrowed for a moment. What was Shaadi doing? He was doing something. The doctor said he'd look for any excuse he could find, but this seemed an odd way to go about it. Unnerve. Irritating word, or maybe the way Shaadi said it just bothered him. Or maybe the fact that the doctor was gone and Shaadi was up to something just...unnerved him.
"Marik," he explained, shifting a bit in his chair. Bothered him. That word. Why repeat it. Why wasn't the doctor here. Those weren't questions. Were they? Needed to do something to end this. "And Kaiba." Kaiba was an off-limits topic, so that meant he was off the hook on that one, didn't it? That Shaadi had to stop asking questions? Or maybe Yami didn't understand the rules they were playing by; he rarely understood anything anymore.
"Your eyes aren't the same as theirs. I don't think. They might be. I could always be mistaken."
Blue eyes bother him due to trauma? YM1 case speaks in fragments -- disjointed thoughts or inability to string together sentences mentally? Still taking mental notes, Shaadi watched Yami steadily, noticing the momentarily narrowed eyes of the boy. A flash of anger or temper, perhaps? That boded well, if there was still enough of him to be angered.
The shifting was a sign of unease, Shaadi could tell that much. A good sign or not? Hard to tell, so he stayed with the same tactic that he had been using so far, asking mildly, "Why would you think that you could be mistaken, Mutou-kun?"
...Wasn't that obvious? He was always wrong. It'd be surprising if he weren't. 'I could be mistaken' was a given, not something new. Why interrogate on those points? Why not let the doctor come back? He wanted the doctor. He wanted to be led back to his room and patted on the head and told that all of this was over and he was never going back to the visiting room and Shaadi wasn't going to take him away and Dr. Kamui wasn't ever going to let anyone take him away and everything would be the way it had been and no more questions or blue eyes or anything at all and
He stared back at Shaadi, trying to formulate a response. It was all so obvious that he didn't understand how the man could've missed it. "There's always a possibility," he said, trying to smile again. "You can never be entirely sure."
"Is there anything you can be sure of, Mutou-kun?" Shaadi's tone was quiet, uninflected. It was the voice that primal man had heard from the darkness of the cave, asking if there was more to life than merely hitting things with rocks. It was the voice that the dying heard, questioning if it would be so hard to simply let go. It was simple, it was plain, it had nothing attached to it except what Yami chose to give it.
There was no more Shaadi; there was only the Questioner.
And Yami had no desire -- or, in fact, ability -- to answer questions or even Questions, as the case might be. The doctor was gone now and he didn't know what to do and he had to do something because if he didn't do something then Shaadi would take him away and he couldn't be taken away because then what would he do and he needed the doctor and the doctor wasn't here and the doctor had coached him told him softly everything he had to do but the doctor hadn't prepared him for this and he wasn't used to wasn't able to function on his own and he never had been and all of it delusional and now where was he and
The lies about Kaiba, stolen gestures from Mahaado -- those hadn't worked. Shaadi believed it, but only asked more Questions because of it and Yami didn't want to be Questioned just now. And of course there was nothing he could be sure of. Hadn't Shaadi been listening? There was nothing. Safety isn't real. Not for people like him. Maybe people who were strong could be safe, but Yami wasn't strong and never had been had only thought he had been because he'd been stupid and arrogant and he'd been cured of that now and so it really didn't make a difference now did it?
"No," he said plainly. "There isn't. Unrealistic to think otherwise." A pause. The doctor hadn't said much to him before the interview started, just outlined in soothing tones the things he would have to do, commands spaced evenly so he wouldn't confuse them, words slow and clear so that they could be absorbed. Can a command sink into skin and be taken in that way? The doctor's voice had soaked into Yami's skin and changed everything.
Continued, before Shaadi could ask another question: "I don't want to talk." Because he was pretending now, and that meant he was allowed to have opinions. "It isn't just Kaiba." Mahaado now again, looking away uncomfortably, biting his lip. "Anyone can have that effect. Everything breaks. The doctor wants me to talk about it to you, asked me to, and I tried because I do...."
Trailing off for maximum effect; Mahaado did that. Could Mahaado act, or was he really like this? Yami always acted because Yami was dead and nobody was supposed to know. Could he tell Shaadi that? No, that would probably cause problems. Even the doctor he couldn't tell that, although he suspected that the doctor was already quite aware. The doctor didn't mind, though. Not really. The doctor knew he was quite dead and still lavished attention on the corpse.
The doctor took care of him, and explained to him what to do. Even if his instructions weren't helping much now. They were still there, and they were still something, and like the doctor's touch even if they didn't really change the situation, they were enough. At least to get through to the next set of Questions. "I do want to get better. I'm not usually like this, or I wasn't before. And I'm going to get better. But talking to people from before just makes it worse. Talking about them, too. I'd rather not. Please."
"By when do you think you will have recovered?" Shaadi asked quietly, still watching Yami intently, the muted blue of his eyes not straying from the other's face even as the boy kept looking away, looking down -- it reminded Shaadi oddly of someone and a few seconds of thought had him pinpoint the gestures as belonging to Mahaado Shiro, the person responsible for this mess. Odd. Had Yami somehow been infected with the older man's uncertainty? Having Mahaado imprint himself on others did not sound like a good thing.
YM1 case has problems dealing with anything belonging to past, not simply SK case. As self is part of said past, self must be problem.
...Perhaps a burqua, not sunglasses, is what's required here.
Yami blinked. He -- there wasn't anything there. No reaction, no change of pace, no difference made to any of it. Just a question. Question. Whichever it was. He didn't like this. No. This was not good. This was not what was supposed to happen, and this was not going well. Shaadi wasn't supposed to ask more Questions when Yami had returned cleanly. Because that had been a clean return, hadn't it? He hadn't made more mistakes, had he? He couldn't afford to make more mistakes; he couldn't afford to make any.
But all he did without the doctor was make mistake after mistake after mistake and it was only ever with the doctor's hands guiding his that he managed to do something right. Faltering now, looking uneasy but that was all part of the role he was playing right Shaadi wouldn't notice he could continue doing this it'd all turn out all right had to because he didn't know how else it could because he couldn't fail the doctor and
Swallowed nervously. "I don't know. Guessing doesn't help much." Paused, considered. "It takes time, of course." Swallowed again, gaze dropped to the tabletop. "It was easier before the visitors...."
If Shaadi had been someone else, that comment might have stung. It might have made him feel guilty, it might have made him question himself and his tactics. It might even have made him apologize for having worsened Yami's condition.
But he was Shaadi, and he was secure in his own righteousness and his own expertise. He would do the right thing, guided by years of practice and experience, and Yami would recover. Yami might not be able to understand it right now, but being exposed to the outside world and being reminded that people did exist outside the sheltered bubble of the asylum was for his own good.
Really.
So, still calm and in control of the situation, Shaadi questioned, "If you cannot converse with the visitors here, in the shelter of the asylum, will you not find it even more difficult to return to a normal life once you are released?"
"No." And the word was out of Yami's mouth before he understood quite what he was responding to. No, no, no, no no no no nononono. Not answering more questions, not seeing visitors, not conversing with anyone, not leaving the asylum. Ever. Couldn't. Had to stay here. This was where he belonged. There wasn't anywhere else. Shaadi was insane. Shaadi was a bad person, the sort of person Dr. Kamui told him about.
...Shaadi needed to leave, now. "I don't have to talk to you about anything I'm uncomfortable with." Cold now, because he could pretend to be anyone, not just Mahaado. After all, once you scrape out all the human mess of organs and muscle and tissue and bone and emotion and thoughts and personality and all the other ugly things inside, you're left with skin. Your choice what to fill it with, now that it's hollow and worthless. He could steal the doctor's tone and keep it there inside just as easily as the doctor took his journal and posted comments with it.
Did that mean Yami was an icon?
"I already told you twice, and I won't again. I don't want to talk about this. You are not my doctor, and I am not your patient, and you have no authority here." But too much of the doctor and Shaadi might realize that Yami had gone away, and that would be bad as well, so he choked on an imaginary involuntary sob and squeezed his eyes tight shut and put his head in his hands for a moment, and when he looked up again it was through newly acquired tears and the doctor was gone.
Because even when things died, ghosts remained, and Yami could pull enough of himself, the broken battered parts that weren't even coherent anymore, to the surface to use them to speak with, too. Voice tight and choked and pathetic as he'd ever been, words all spilling out in a fragmented rush: "I don't want to have to ask you to leave -- I'm trying to get better -- and you can't expect that I can make that sort of progress so quickly -- and I don't need to hear it from you that I'm not better yet -- I know I'm not! -- but I'm trying and you're not helping and the doctor is and things were improving before you interfered -- and if I have to ask you to leave, I will."
Shaadi studied Yami carefully, watching the subtle shifts of demeanor and attitude, filing them away. Panic, steel, steel again, and something akin to panic once more, broken words for a broken boy. Well. He shifted, the soft cotton of his clothing rustling quietly, and stood up, having reached a conclusion.
He might not agree with Dr. Kamui, and he was highly suspicious of the reliance that Yami seemed to have on him, as well as not fond of the idea that he had been lied to, but Shaadi did not want to make the situation any worse. It was complicated enough to begin with.
Tone quiet but firm, Shaadi informed Yami, "Mutou-kun -- I am glad to hear you are improving. I hope you continue to progress at whatever pace suits you, and now, I shall be on my way."
He turned and left, brushing past Dr. Kamui in the hallway silently.
Set and match to Kamui.
No verdict on the game.
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Dr. Kamui vs. Professor Akelae. It's Psychologist Tennis, and Yami's the ball.
First Set:
Shaadi made the first move; he visited the asylum and asked why both Kaibas had been banned from seeing Yami.
Dr. Kamui countered by stating that was Yami's wishes, but made the mistake of adding that Shaadi had no business interfering in the matter anyway.
Shaadi pointed out that as a government official tasked to Domino University, Yami was still under his jurisdiction. Point to Shaadi.
Dr. Kamui smiled, and stated that Yami wanted to drop out of university. Point to Kamui.
Shaadi was silent, then demanded visitation rights.
Dr. Kamui had no choice but to acquiesce. Point to Shaadi.
Match: Shaadi. Score: 2-1.
Second Set:
Yami didn't like the visiting room, so much as he did or didn't like anything and he'd thought that after a lifetime's worth of faces he didn't recognize crammed into one week he wouldn't see it again. But he pretended he didn't mind it because Dr. Kamui told him to smile and stay quiet until he was spoken to and be very polite and Yami could do that and Yami would do that, and that solved all the problems right there, didn't it? And smiling felt funny but he smiled at the visitor like he recognized him because he had seen the face before although he was no longer entirely sure what that face meant.
The doctor, he suspected, was playing a game. Because he sat across the table from the visitor, and there could've been a chessboard between them, except that Yami couldn't see it. Was it a chessboard? He was no longer entirely sure he had the distinction between chessboards and checkerboards and backgammon boards and go boards and all the other boards because after knights blurred into rooks it was only a matter of time before whole games sort of became...confused. And the only thing that escaped that confusion was the fact that the doctor always won and Yami would always lose.
But he wasn't confused now, because he knew what he was supposed to do. Near as he could tell, at least. Near as he could know anything, which wasn't much, but was still something. He sat down on the doctor's side of the table, faltering only momentarily at the idea of sitting in a chair beside Dr. Kamui, instead of on the floor at his feet or in his lap, as usual. The doctor hadn't explained much of anything to him, but he had said that Yami wasn't to act as he did when they were alone while they were in public, wasn't to cling to him or any of the other things the doctor expected of him in front of other people, because they were bad people. They'd take Yami away from the doctor if they saw that; they'd use any excuse they could get.
And Yami didn't want to be taken away. And the visitor might take him away, too. And he couldn't have that. Ever. So he smiled as best he could, and sat down calmly, and hoped the doctor would give him more directions soon.
Dr. Kamui moved his leg to the side slightly so that it pressed against Yami's, a comforting reminder of his physical presence. The boy had been trained to react to such little cues, after all, and this was the test of how well Dr. Kamui had him under control. Keeping both hands folded on the table, noticeably within eyesight, Dr. Kamui suggested to Yami in a calm, professional tone, "Yami, Dr. Akelae would like to know how you feel about the idea of returning to university."
Shaadi couldn't find any fault with how Dr. Kamui had phrased the question. It had been balanced, and not leading. Soft, cloudy blue eyes looked at Yami, waiting for an answer. While Seto's eyes were a bright, sharp blue, shocking in their clarity and coldness, Shaadi's were a softer, more muted shade. Like the sky on a clear summer day, where the heat-mirages made it seem to shimmer and melt in on itself.
Yami caught himself before he looked to the doctor for guidance; that was one of the things he wasn't supposed to do in public. Instead, he stared directly at Shaadi, trying to figure out what to make of his eyes. Not the same as Kaiba's, no, but they were still a sort of blue all the same. And more than Kaiba could've been, Shaadi was a threat. And Yami himself was powerless to resist threats, too weak to do anything but allow other people to take from him, but that was all right because that was what he was meant to be and the doctor took care of him anyway.
"I don't want to go back," he started softly. Not at all; he hated that place. Hated everything in it and everything about it, except that he still didn't hate so hate was the wrong word. He didn't like it there. Although his feelings about things didn't matter. And why should they matter? They were his feelings, after all. No one important's. "I don't like it there," he continued, voice fairly flat but steady as he tried to come up with more things to say, to make the answer complete enough. "I was wrong when I thought I could do well there. It's not the right place for me."
He paused there, still not entirely sure what he was saying, and gave Shaadi a questioning look. Had that been enough?
"I see." Shaadi watched Yami steadily for any sign of unease. His words were so flat, as if he'd been trained what to say and he spoke in generalities. Again, as if they were not really his thoughts.
Carefully, tone calm and reassuring, he asked Yami, "Why do you dislike it there, and where do you consider your right place to be?"
Dr. Kamui winced mentally at the last part of the question. If Yami said that he belonged in the asylum or with Dr. Kamui, then Shaadi would get highly suspicious or at the very least, insist that Yami be shifted to a different sector where Dr. Kamui wouldn't have any control over him. The point was to make patients better, after all, not make them want to stay.
Why? Yami blinked at the question, stalled for a moment. He didn't have opinions, not really, not anymore; he wasn't allowed them. They were irrelevant. Trying rationalize feelings he didn't even actually have -- he didn't know what to do. But that was normal. So this shouldn't have made him so uneasy. But it did. But there was nothing to do about that. But he had to do something. But Dr. Kamui was touching him and that helped some. His touch always did. Even when it hurt. Because even hurt showed him his place. And better to know pain than to lose track of his place.
"It hurts," Yami said, nodding more to himself than Shaadi. He could put on faces and sound genuine. He'd done it before, done it when pretending to enjoy and to want what the doctor did to him was the only way to get the things he needed. And the thing he needed now was the doctor, was to be left alone with him so everything could go back to the way things had been and everything would be perfectly fine. Because things weren't going to be fine if he didn't answer the questions properly and what would he do then he didn't know what to do then and
"Being there, I mean." And his voice dropped to an uncertain whisper, "And Marik's there." Because it was easy to act out fear when a tight hysteria was already growing steadily in him: abject terror at the thought of being taken away from the doctor. Because Shaadi couldn't know how pathetic Yami was, how much he needed the doctor; most people could surely tell from looking just how worthless he was, but Shaadi must not have seen that because he was still trying to help somehow, acting as if Yami's opinions meant something and "I'm not really good at school anyway. Never was."
Moment's hesitation. One more question to answer. "I don't know what my place is." He didn't know anything. "But I know it isn't there, and I don't want to go back."
Dr. Kamui's leg pressed gently against Yami's, a small sign of approval for an answer well-given. Point to Dr. Kamui, played via Yami.
"Would you like to go home?" Shaadi asked, putting aside for the moment the question of whether Yami was good at school or not. After all, his grades had seemed decent, certainly better than some people's. It was a complete fallacy for the boy to say that he wasn't any good at it -- but somehow, Shaadi doubted that the heart of the issue was academic problems.
Not when Marik was so much of an issue.
Mentally debating for a few moments, Shaadi then inquired, "And would you feel more comfortable about returning to school if I could promise you Marik would not be there?"
Promise what? Yami stared, trying to figure out what Shaadi was talking about. Marik had won. Why would Marik have to leave? Marik wasn't the weak one who fell apart and deserved to have everything taken from him. Marik won, and that meant Marik got whatever he wanted; that was the way it worked. You won and you had everything, or you lost and you had nothing. There was no middle ground. ...Or perhaps Shaadi was just that much stronger than Marik? He didn't look it, but Yami wasn't sure.
And home, that another confusing question, because surely Shaadi didn't think he was wanted there. Yuugi hadn't even come to visit him, and why would he? As a brother, just as in everything else, Yami was an utter failure. And no one should have to have a brother like him, one who was good for nothing but playing whore to people who were able to force him. And Yuugi had been the first one to realize that Yami was worthless, which was why he didn't believe him, why he was so quick to think Yami was a liar and a slut. And he'd been right. Crack him open and dig into the innermost parts and all you had was a pathetic, lying whore.
A pathetic, lying whore who had a place here, in the asylum, where the doctor was. And nowhere else. No one else would have him, and he didn't mind that. Dr. Kamui took care of him.
"I can't go home the way I am," Yami said finally. "That wouldn't help things at all." Nothing would, because there was nothing worth helping about him, and he'd never be anything more than what he was now, which was just about nothing, too. "And even without Marik, there's still Kaiba, and everyone else." Bit of a pleading expression now, because maybe that would help. "It wouldn't change things. I don't want to go back there. Ever."
Kaiba? Shaadi blinked slightly, and tilted his head at Yami, turban magically failing to slip as he continued to watch Yami with that neutral, gentle expression. Quietly, he asked, "What is your problem with Kaiba? Also, why did you tell him that you could not see him?"
Dr. Kamui pondered that question for a moment, trying to see if he could accuse Shaadi of leading the patient. No. Shaadi had asked two separate questions, both of them perfectly within his rights. He still wasn't discovering anything though, despite his textbook-perfect technique.
Dr. Kamui had trained Yami too well for that.
But training or no, Yami still faltered, had to force himself not to glance to his side for instruction. The other questions had been easier than one that he knew the answer to and couldn't say. He was too stupid to save himself and too dull come up with a plan of his own, never had been capable and never would be, and he knew that, and Dr. Kamui proved that to him, but he wasn't enough of an idiot to tell the truth. Shaadi would take him away then, definitely, and it would be his fault just like everything else and he didn't want anything else to fall apart because of him because wasn't himself falling apart through his own uselessness enough?
"I don't want to talk about it," he answered finally, voice a bit tighter than usual. Lies and lies and lies, but if it could fool Shaadi, he'd do it. Throat constricting strangely, but maybe he could have a momentary lapse in his worthlessness and use that to his advantage. "I can't yet. I haven't...." Yami bit his lip and looked down and to the side, mimicking the pitiful gesture Mahaado made so often. Did he even remember Mahaado? Felt like forever ago.
Swallowed hard, felt strange without the collar tight around his throat, then blinked away the threat of imaginary tears -- he didn't have real ones, not like Mahaado after all -- and looked back up at Shaadi. "It's complicated," he said, and he tried his hardest to sound sure of himself. It didn't work, but that might help his case all the more. "Having him here -- I didn't feel that I could...bear it so soon. I'm still not ready yet. Must we talk about this now?" He punctuated the question by averting his gaze pointedly again, sinking his teeth into his lower lip. Learned something after all, and from Mahaado no less.
"...I understand," Shaadi lied, keeping the sympathetic look on his face. What could Kaiba have done to make Mutou so -- well, off-balance? He looked traumatized, but as if he was trying to hide it, to deal and recover with it.
Coping strategies. The asylum could not be so bad if they were at least teaching Yami how to recover... But still, this was odd. Kaiba. Sociopathic, yes, but very quick to affirm his asexuality. And he was one of the few people who had never missed an Ethics class.
Frowning inwardly, Shaadi considered that, wondering what Kaiba could have done that asking questions about him invoked such reactions. It was odd... A particularly persistent rumor drifting through his mind, as well as the memory of how surprising it had been to find an e-mail from Kaiba in his inbox, Shaadi asked softly, "Were the two of you involved?"
Dr. Kamui objected there, instantly telling Shaadi in his most clipped manner, "Professor, Mutou-kun said that he didn't want to discuss Kaiba with you. Please, respect the patient's wishes or I shall be forced to ask you to leave." Point to Kamui.
Shaadi disliked that greatly; both the threat of being kicked out by someone who was treating a patient that should have been his, and the tone that Dr. Kamui employed. Still calm though, showing no sign of his momentary flicker of annoyance, Shaadi looked over at Yami and nodded, "I apologize, Mutou-kun. I did not wish to press you on a topic that you could feel was an uncomfortable one."
Yami nodded, giving no indication of his surprise at Shaadi's question (He and Kaiba?) or the rush of gratitude for the doctor's cutting in. The doctor liked to see him prove how grateful he was, of course, but that was decidedly not one of the "in public" behaviors. So he ignored the doctor entirely. Concentrate on this, and then Shaadi would leave, and then everything would be back to normal. ...He hoped the doctor wasn't displeased with him.
"It's all right," Yami said, focusing his attention on Shaadi. "It'll be okay again someday." He used to insist things like that, that everything would turn out right eventually because he wouldn't die and so long as he was living he still had a chance to change things, but that'd all been wrong. The only use it served was this now: deceiving Shaadi. It was worthless otherwise.
"I think I'm really starting to improve," he continued, voice as earnest as he could make it. Half-smile, looked sincere but still uncertain; it was neither. "I'm making a lot of progress. It'll take time, of course...." Had he always sounded so naive, so stupidly self-assured? What had possessed him to believe any of this? "But I'm willing to work for it, and I know things will get better eventually."
"That's very reassuring to hear, Mutou-kun," Shaadi said, slightly relieved. It did appear that Yami was doing well after all, despite all the suspicious signs from earlier. But still, there was that journal entry. Why did Yami sound so much like himself now, yet had sounded so odd in that entry? It tickled at Shaadi's mind, confusing him slightly, and not letting him just drop the topic.
Glancing over at Dr. Kamui, Shaadi paused. Wait. Why was the man still here? True, Yami was his patient, but Shaadi was a qualified psychiatrist who technically outranked the other man. And if Dr. Kamui was here, it was possible that Yami was altering his reactions to fool the doctor, just as many of the more stubborn cases did.
So, polite as usual, Shaadi addressed Dr. Kamui directly, "Dr. Kamui, I must request that you leave the room so that I can speak in private with Mutou-kun."
Yami's heart stopped, but it didn't register on his face because he was too busy reeling trying to come up with a reaction to have time to look appalled. This wasn't what he'd thought he'd gotten himself into. The doctor was supposed to be there with him, not leaving him alone with this stranger with a stupid hat and questions Yami couldn't think of enough lies to answer and blue eyes that weren't quite Kaiba's but still had the power to take Yami away from his place and
This time he didn't stop himself, didn't have the presence of mind to, from turning to the doctor for guidance. He had no idea what to say, and the situation was now much further beyond what he was capable of handling on his own. He needed help.
Dr. Kamui swore inwardly. He had no reason to refuse that request or at least, none he could give that would not look suspicious. Still, knowing that to express any sign of displeasure towards Yami could make the boy crumble, Dr. Kamui gave Yami a reassuring smile and told him in a calm tone as if he had absolutely no problem with being forced to leave the room, "Yami, Professor Akelae wants to talk to you in private, but remember, you don't have to talk about anything that makes you uncomfortable, and if you need me, I'll be waiting outside in the hallway."
That bit of reassurance delivered, which would hopefully be enough to keep Yami from having a full-fledged meltdown at the enforced separation, Dr. Kamui rose to his feet and favored Shaadi with a slightly cold nod. "Professor, be careful what you broach with him. I would take it amiss if you disrupt his recovery or cause any setbacks."
With that, he swept out of the room. Point to Shaadi.
Match: Kamui. Score: 2-1.
Third Set:
The door shut with a dull thud, but that might just have been the cold weight that'd suddenly plummeted to the bottom of Yami's stomach. He felt ill. Feelings he hadn't previously had to deal with congealed in the pit of his stomach, oily black sludge that seemed impossibly dense. Sick, miserable, going to throw up, wanted to look back but forced himself not to. Alone. This wasn't supposed to have happened. Not at all.
But if he was stricken he took pains not to show it, looking up at Shaadi with the calmest expression he could manage. That was simple. He'd worn the same placid mask for all the other visitors. But all the other visitors had just been normal people and none of them had the power to separate Yami from the person who'd become the axis on which his world turned and none of them had ripped away the thing that was keeping him stable and none of them could take him away from his place from the doctor the doctor he needed permanently and
"What did you want to talk about, Professor?"
"Anything you feel open to discussing, Mutou-kun," Shaadi replied, keeping his tone neutral despite how much Dr. Kamui's attitude had grated at him. As if he needed to be reminded to treat patients with care? Not to mention that his little speech might have prejudiced Yami against him, what with the subtle implication that Shaadi would try to make him discuss that he wasn't comfortable with.
Ignoring that, Shaadi turned the question on Yami, not liking the format where the psychologist asked all the questions and the patient was forced to answer. Non-directive psychology was more his style. "What do you like to talk about?"
Yami frowned, confused. Reaction times slowing; too late to catch emotions from showing on his face when before nothing had broken the neutral mask he'd put on. This was not good at all.
And Shaadi was asking him inane questions like that? In what world did it matter what he liked to talk about? Nothing about him mattered, least of all ridiculous things like what he wanted to talk about. He talked about what he was spoken to about first, and that was very nearly it. It was definitely it now. And he wanted the doctor back. Looked down at the tabletop, this time not acting at all as he chewed his lip and tried to think of something. Anything. He didn't like to talk about anything. Didn't like anything.
"I don't know." He smiled weakly and tried to shrug his uneasiness off. "I'm not very particular."
"Then why don't you choose a topic, Mutou-kun? Like, your interests. What interests you?" Shaadi's method might seem oblique to people that didn't know him, but what the man was doing was forcing Yami to make decisions. The slight hesitation had been obvious, and the suspicion that Yami had been rattling off pre-prepared answers to the standard questions was now growing stronger.
That left Shaadi with the option of asking very odd questions indeed, or first giving Yami a choice to decide his own fate by seeing what degree of autonomy he had. Being merciful, he opted for the latter, but was willing to switch to the former if needed.
But he didn't have interests! Yami kept his face blank this time, paying more attention to the visual cues he gave after the last slip-up, but inwardly he cringed. Why Shaadi insisted on treating him as if he were normal instead of the broken up worthless thing he was was beyond Yami, but it bothered him. Bothered him that the doctor was gone, too, more and more with each passing second. Surely the visit time had to end. Or the doctor had to need him for something. Yes, that was a very good plan, yes, Dr. Kamui could arrive just about now and send Shaadi away and take Yami back to his room and then everything would be okay and
Interests. He didn't have any. Wasn't like most people. He was different. Being worthless made him a lot different. Empty shell of what people who were people expected to see. After all, if he had no opinions, he couldn't have interests, and then he had nothing to talk about and Shaadi might take him away from the doctor for good and he couldn't handle that and this was all becoming too much.
"Blue eyes," Yami said, nodding to reassure himself. That was an interest. It was near as he could come to one, anyway. "They're interesting. Kaiba has blue eyes. They unnerve me. Not all blue eyes, but not just his in particular either. Lots of blue eyes. You have blue eyes." He declined to mention whether they unnerved him or not; not a conscious omission, but rather the consequences of being too wound up now to even listen to the words coming out of his mouth. Had to keep talking, keep answering questions. Then Shaadi would go away, and everything would be okay again.
Well, that was unexpected. Mentally jotting down notes, Interests: Blue eyes. Picks out Kaiba as unnerving. States I have blue eyes, fails to mention if they unnerve him or not.
...Invest in sunglasses if future visits are needed?, Shaadi kept his soft blue gaze on Yami, blinking only once, and then lightly. Hands pressed gently together, fingertip against fingertip, Shaadi inquired mildly, "Why do blue eyes in particular unnerve you?"
He paused for a moment, and tone still neutral so as to not lead Yami into merely saying the 'right' answer, he asked also, "Do my eyes unnerve you?" He kept his wording as close to Yami's as he could, not wanting to guide the boy in any direction, but rather, act as a sounding board off which Yami could bounce his own thoughts.
Unnerve. Unnerve; he kept saying that. Repeating it. Yami's own eyes -- not blue, of course, but not grey either -- narrowed for a moment. What was Shaadi doing? He was doing something. The doctor said he'd look for any excuse he could find, but this seemed an odd way to go about it. Unnerve. Irritating word, or maybe the way Shaadi said it just bothered him. Or maybe the fact that the doctor was gone and Shaadi was up to something just...unnerved him.
"Marik," he explained, shifting a bit in his chair. Bothered him. That word. Why repeat it. Why wasn't the doctor here. Those weren't questions. Were they? Needed to do something to end this. "And Kaiba." Kaiba was an off-limits topic, so that meant he was off the hook on that one, didn't it? That Shaadi had to stop asking questions? Or maybe Yami didn't understand the rules they were playing by; he rarely understood anything anymore.
"Your eyes aren't the same as theirs. I don't think. They might be. I could always be mistaken."
Blue eyes bother him due to trauma? YM1 case speaks in fragments -- disjointed thoughts or inability to string together sentences mentally? Still taking mental notes, Shaadi watched Yami steadily, noticing the momentarily narrowed eyes of the boy. A flash of anger or temper, perhaps? That boded well, if there was still enough of him to be angered.
The shifting was a sign of unease, Shaadi could tell that much. A good sign or not? Hard to tell, so he stayed with the same tactic that he had been using so far, asking mildly, "Why would you think that you could be mistaken, Mutou-kun?"
...Wasn't that obvious? He was always wrong. It'd be surprising if he weren't. 'I could be mistaken' was a given, not something new. Why interrogate on those points? Why not let the doctor come back? He wanted the doctor. He wanted to be led back to his room and patted on the head and told that all of this was over and he was never going back to the visiting room and Shaadi wasn't going to take him away and Dr. Kamui wasn't ever going to let anyone take him away and everything would be the way it had been and no more questions or blue eyes or anything at all and
He stared back at Shaadi, trying to formulate a response. It was all so obvious that he didn't understand how the man could've missed it. "There's always a possibility," he said, trying to smile again. "You can never be entirely sure."
"Is there anything you can be sure of, Mutou-kun?" Shaadi's tone was quiet, uninflected. It was the voice that primal man had heard from the darkness of the cave, asking if there was more to life than merely hitting things with rocks. It was the voice that the dying heard, questioning if it would be so hard to simply let go. It was simple, it was plain, it had nothing attached to it except what Yami chose to give it.
There was no more Shaadi; there was only the Questioner.
And Yami had no desire -- or, in fact, ability -- to answer questions or even Questions, as the case might be. The doctor was gone now and he didn't know what to do and he had to do something because if he didn't do something then Shaadi would take him away and he couldn't be taken away because then what would he do and he needed the doctor and the doctor wasn't here and the doctor had coached him told him softly everything he had to do but the doctor hadn't prepared him for this and he wasn't used to wasn't able to function on his own and he never had been and all of it delusional and now where was he and
The lies about Kaiba, stolen gestures from Mahaado -- those hadn't worked. Shaadi believed it, but only asked more Questions because of it and Yami didn't want to be Questioned just now. And of course there was nothing he could be sure of. Hadn't Shaadi been listening? There was nothing. Safety isn't real. Not for people like him. Maybe people who were strong could be safe, but Yami wasn't strong and never had been had only thought he had been because he'd been stupid and arrogant and he'd been cured of that now and so it really didn't make a difference now did it?
"No," he said plainly. "There isn't. Unrealistic to think otherwise." A pause. The doctor hadn't said much to him before the interview started, just outlined in soothing tones the things he would have to do, commands spaced evenly so he wouldn't confuse them, words slow and clear so that they could be absorbed. Can a command sink into skin and be taken in that way? The doctor's voice had soaked into Yami's skin and changed everything.
Continued, before Shaadi could ask another question: "I don't want to talk." Because he was pretending now, and that meant he was allowed to have opinions. "It isn't just Kaiba." Mahaado now again, looking away uncomfortably, biting his lip. "Anyone can have that effect. Everything breaks. The doctor wants me to talk about it to you, asked me to, and I tried because I do...."
Trailing off for maximum effect; Mahaado did that. Could Mahaado act, or was he really like this? Yami always acted because Yami was dead and nobody was supposed to know. Could he tell Shaadi that? No, that would probably cause problems. Even the doctor he couldn't tell that, although he suspected that the doctor was already quite aware. The doctor didn't mind, though. Not really. The doctor knew he was quite dead and still lavished attention on the corpse.
The doctor took care of him, and explained to him what to do. Even if his instructions weren't helping much now. They were still there, and they were still something, and like the doctor's touch even if they didn't really change the situation, they were enough. At least to get through to the next set of Questions. "I do want to get better. I'm not usually like this, or I wasn't before. And I'm going to get better. But talking to people from before just makes it worse. Talking about them, too. I'd rather not. Please."
"By when do you think you will have recovered?" Shaadi asked quietly, still watching Yami intently, the muted blue of his eyes not straying from the other's face even as the boy kept looking away, looking down -- it reminded Shaadi oddly of someone and a few seconds of thought had him pinpoint the gestures as belonging to Mahaado Shiro, the person responsible for this mess. Odd. Had Yami somehow been infected with the older man's uncertainty? Having Mahaado imprint himself on others did not sound like a good thing.
YM1 case has problems dealing with anything belonging to past, not simply SK case. As self is part of said past, self must be problem.
...Perhaps a burqua, not sunglasses, is what's required here.
Yami blinked. He -- there wasn't anything there. No reaction, no change of pace, no difference made to any of it. Just a question. Question. Whichever it was. He didn't like this. No. This was not good. This was not what was supposed to happen, and this was not going well. Shaadi wasn't supposed to ask more Questions when Yami had returned cleanly. Because that had been a clean return, hadn't it? He hadn't made more mistakes, had he? He couldn't afford to make more mistakes; he couldn't afford to make any.
But all he did without the doctor was make mistake after mistake after mistake and it was only ever with the doctor's hands guiding his that he managed to do something right. Faltering now, looking uneasy but that was all part of the role he was playing right Shaadi wouldn't notice he could continue doing this it'd all turn out all right had to because he didn't know how else it could because he couldn't fail the doctor and
Swallowed nervously. "I don't know. Guessing doesn't help much." Paused, considered. "It takes time, of course." Swallowed again, gaze dropped to the tabletop. "It was easier before the visitors...."
If Shaadi had been someone else, that comment might have stung. It might have made him feel guilty, it might have made him question himself and his tactics. It might even have made him apologize for having worsened Yami's condition.
But he was Shaadi, and he was secure in his own righteousness and his own expertise. He would do the right thing, guided by years of practice and experience, and Yami would recover. Yami might not be able to understand it right now, but being exposed to the outside world and being reminded that people did exist outside the sheltered bubble of the asylum was for his own good.
Really.
So, still calm and in control of the situation, Shaadi questioned, "If you cannot converse with the visitors here, in the shelter of the asylum, will you not find it even more difficult to return to a normal life once you are released?"
"No." And the word was out of Yami's mouth before he understood quite what he was responding to. No, no, no, no no no no nononono. Not answering more questions, not seeing visitors, not conversing with anyone, not leaving the asylum. Ever. Couldn't. Had to stay here. This was where he belonged. There wasn't anywhere else. Shaadi was insane. Shaadi was a bad person, the sort of person Dr. Kamui told him about.
...Shaadi needed to leave, now. "I don't have to talk to you about anything I'm uncomfortable with." Cold now, because he could pretend to be anyone, not just Mahaado. After all, once you scrape out all the human mess of organs and muscle and tissue and bone and emotion and thoughts and personality and all the other ugly things inside, you're left with skin. Your choice what to fill it with, now that it's hollow and worthless. He could steal the doctor's tone and keep it there inside just as easily as the doctor took his journal and posted comments with it.
Did that mean Yami was an icon?
"I already told you twice, and I won't again. I don't want to talk about this. You are not my doctor, and I am not your patient, and you have no authority here." But too much of the doctor and Shaadi might realize that Yami had gone away, and that would be bad as well, so he choked on an imaginary involuntary sob and squeezed his eyes tight shut and put his head in his hands for a moment, and when he looked up again it was through newly acquired tears and the doctor was gone.
Because even when things died, ghosts remained, and Yami could pull enough of himself, the broken battered parts that weren't even coherent anymore, to the surface to use them to speak with, too. Voice tight and choked and pathetic as he'd ever been, words all spilling out in a fragmented rush: "I don't want to have to ask you to leave -- I'm trying to get better -- and you can't expect that I can make that sort of progress so quickly -- and I don't need to hear it from you that I'm not better yet -- I know I'm not! -- but I'm trying and you're not helping and the doctor is and things were improving before you interfered -- and if I have to ask you to leave, I will."
Shaadi studied Yami carefully, watching the subtle shifts of demeanor and attitude, filing them away. Panic, steel, steel again, and something akin to panic once more, broken words for a broken boy. Well. He shifted, the soft cotton of his clothing rustling quietly, and stood up, having reached a conclusion.
He might not agree with Dr. Kamui, and he was highly suspicious of the reliance that Yami seemed to have on him, as well as not fond of the idea that he had been lied to, but Shaadi did not want to make the situation any worse. It was complicated enough to begin with.
Tone quiet but firm, Shaadi informed Yami, "Mutou-kun -- I am glad to hear you are improving. I hope you continue to progress at whatever pace suits you, and now, I shall be on my way."
He turned and left, brushing past Dr. Kamui in the hallway silently.
Set and match to Kamui.
No verdict on the game.