ways_infirmary | (no subject)

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Malcolm walks quietly into the infirmary, carrying a covered cup of coffee in his hand, and a slim notebook in the other. He takes off his overcoat and carefully lays it over the back of a chair just inside.

He smiles at himself doing that. He hardly needed a coat just coming down from his room upstairs, but he would have worn one on the way to his office back in his old life, and today it just felt like the right thing to do.

His face grows more serious, though, as he scans the room and notices Draco is still here. It's been a few days. Malcolm had hoped he would be well enough to leave by this point, but sometimes things don't work out that well.

He walks over quietly, notebook and coffee back in hand.

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Just the opposite was true. After the incident that left him running out toward the frozen lake, lost in splintered memories, Draco had folded into himself again, and was barely aware or lucid at times now.

There was definitely a lot more here than just events in Milliways.

A faint whimper emerged from the curled up, pale figure on the bed.

While still several paces away, Malcolm coughs quietly, an old trick to let patients know he was there without scaring them. Then he moves around Draco's bed, keeping some distance, so as not to crowd him, and stepping heavy enough to let the boy know where he is but not so heavy as to be nerve-wracking.

Malcolm is all about walking fine lines at times like this.

Holding his coffee up a little, Malcolm quietly calls out,

"Draco. I'm Dr. Crowe. I was here the night you came in, but it's ok if you don't remember."

"I was just wondering how you're feeling."

He isn't sure if Draco will even respond to that. But at least it's a start.

The voice seemed muffled to Draco's ears, warped.
Dull grey eyes peered back blankly before slowly focusing, and some blinking.

"Tired, leave me alone." a faint sullen rasp from the young man.

""

"Sorry," Malcolm faux-apologizes. "That's one of the things you shouldn't say if you do want me to go away."

"No one deserves to be alone, Draco."

"Though it might help if you could tell me why you think you should be."

Malcolm is still a couple of paces away, but he's watching Draco closely. Definitely symptoms here of something, but he has no idea just what it might be.

And his reading about magical cultures lately has him watching for signs--even if he is just a beginner about that.

Draco snorted a little, "I don't need anyone. Never had." There was laughter in the background. He peered back accusingly at Malcolm at that, thinking it was him. Liar, you want people, friends, people who care. But why would anyone care about you? The voice in his head sounded like a mix of Voldemort, Harry, Snape, Danny, and even Ray. Lying little coward, you even failed at killing yourself. Failure.
He cringed a little, "Stop it, I'm not. I tried."
Always try, but it's never enough. A pitiful excuse of a Malfoy. I should have killed you, and started over with a new heir. Now it was his father looming over him, his similiar grey eyes a pair of cold diamonds, his expression twisted into absolute scorn and loathing.
"No, please..." he moaned. Obviously unaware of the doctor again.

"Draco!" Malcolm says suddenly, firmly, hoping to grab his attention and shatter the voices' hold over him.

Lucky for Draco, Malcolm has been dealing with people hearing voices quite often lately. He knows the signs especially well.

Barking his name like that is risky, but Draco looks so exhausted--a few minutes release from them might help at least a little.

Assuming, of course, it works at all. Whoever these voices are, their hold over him seems strong.

Draco flinched more at the harsh tone, almost expecting an attack. It was obvious how terrified he was. It was enough to snap him back into lucidity for the time being.

"What do you want?" he whined in a childish voice.

"Your attention, for now. After that, we'll see."

Malcolm normally hates taking the authority approach, but it's not hard to see Draco's been heavily conditioned to respond to it.

Maybe Malcolm can help him break out of that pattern someday. But it won't be anytime soon, and for now, Malcolm has to work with what he's given. His voice is firm as he speaks, though he's careful not to make it sound cold. But his gaze doesn't stray from Draco.

"Now. Mine isn't the only voice you're hearing at the moment, that much is obvious." Let him worry whether I'm doing that with magic or not. "But I'm the doctor in this infirmary right now, and that means my voice is the only one you have to worry about. The others are going to wait until you and I have had our say."

First impressions matter, after all. And whatever voices are tormenting this kid, Malcolm wants to stake the high ground against them right from the start.

Which probably means he's just going to have to fight his way back to that high ground every time, but if so, that's fine. Sometimes that's just the way it works.

Draco was indeed conditioned to it. All his life in fact, so he was paying attention now. He seemed a bit calmer now. Cold would be familiar, but it might cause him to shut down again. But too warm, and he'd never trust it either, thinking it was like Blodwen all over again.

He blinked at the comment with surprise, "How do you know?" He then recovered himself, and added, "I only hear you. Nothing else here." Nothingnobodynothing... STOP IT! He flinched again, and made an effort to listen, more for some relief from the internal barrage on his fractured psyche.

Malcolm ignores the question, intentionally keeping Draco in the dark about what he can or cannot do--and aware, thanks to his reading, that Draco might be able to tell he doesn't have magic, which should only confuse the boy more. Which, for the moment, is how Malcolm wants him.

Instead, his gaze still steady and in the confident tone of an experienced doctor, Malcolm asks:

"Who are they? The voices, I mean."

Draco eyed him, not wanting to respond. He twitched a little as they got louder.

"People. Ones I know or met." He thought he heard a hissing voice again, and his eyes started frantically looking around, terrified.

Malcolm's eyes narrow slightly, in a way that's a bit intimidating actually.

He met Draco's mother in passing the other night... Malcolm thinks a moment more, and then decides to make an educated guess.

"Your father?"

"And I'll lay odds, someone else too?"

Draco was cowering some again.

"...yes. And others." Snakeeyesturninggreenglowing,notglowing,there'sascar,noscarneedlesburnicePAIN
He was rocking on the bed a little now, hugging himself.

"Draco. Look at me."

"The voices are still there. Fine. I'll accept that. For the moment."

"But you are going to tell me--right now--what they are saying to you."

On some level Malcolm wants to know so he can start to help Draco. But there's also the brutal fact that he's not about to play games and possibly let someone else get hurt. Like Danny.

Dull eyes of slate turned toward him, compelled to obey at that tone of voice and Draco's voice seemed equally dull as he remarked in the same bursts as the voices hissed in his mind, "weaktraitorcowardnothingnobodynofriendsonlyDarkonlyDarkLord...." He was still rocking some. And the litany rose in volume as he finally yelled suddenly, "NO!" The effort to stop it nearly caused him to hurl himself off the bed as result.

Malcolm jumps to his feet but resists grabbing Draco's shoulders. He has no idea how strong Draco's gift might be, and he doesn't want to end up hurled across the room.

"That will do, Draco. Now I want you to try to push those voices away. Don't try to make them go away completely, just turn down the volume."

Malcolm immediately moves back to his doctor voice for a final, fact-finding pair of questions:

"Now. How long has it been since you heard these voices? Was there a moment when you first started to hear them?"

Draco's normally leery of contact anyway. And he does have a decent amount of magical power.

"Push... away?" He replied, his voice seeming far away. He frowned as he tried to do so.

Several minutes passed, and then finally.

"A week, maybe two? Heard them after I saw...greenglowingeyesflamehairtraitorcoward..." And he was back to gibbering madly again.

Malcolm turns quickly and grabs a nearby penlight from a nearby desk. He flicks on the light and points the beam toward the boy.

"Draco! I want you to focus on the light!" Malcolm's voice drops slightly, becoming warmer. "Focus on the light, just focus on the light," Malcolm repeats several times, gradually letting warmth into his voice if Draco responds.

"And as you focus on the light, the voices are going to get quieter and quieter. Just focus on the light."

Draco did begin to respond to that, his eyes were still dull but now more with fatigue. His eyes slowly followed the light, and his breathing gradually became steady. He seemed very calm now, and the voices were fading away. Swiftly even.

Malcolm patiently talks Draco deeper and deeper into a calm state, and then finally into sleep.

Once Draco's eyes are closed and his breathing has settled into a slow, sleep-like rhythm, Malcolm flicks off the beam and sets the penlight back on the desk.

He sighs, watching Draco sleep quietly, perhaps for the first time in days.

Malcolm's been here before, of course. Twice before in particular. Seeing a kid pushed beyond his limit by extraordinary experience. Malcolm failed the first time, with Vincent. And it cost them both dearly. The second time, with Cole, things went better. But Malcolm is finding it hard to be confident about Draco's chances.

Not that it matters. Draco will get the best effort Malcolm can give him. That was just the way it worked.

Malcolm drapes a blanket carefully over Draco, picks up his notebook, and then his coat, and leaves the infirmary as the lights dim behind him.

[ooc: Malcolm-mun, mind if I tag here (separate thread) for Guppy to talk to Malcolm after he's seen Draco? I keep missing you because of silly things like time zones.]

(ooc: time zones definitely woe. let me post another infirmary thread for slowtime)

[ooc: Thanks :)]

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