No Fact or Fiction:: Chapter Four
Title: No Fact or Fiction
<Author:
secularsaint::Katie
Rating: PG-13:: just to be safe ;)
Summary: Peter's been diagnosed with Dissociative Identity Disorder, his therapist Patrick is trying to fuse the multiple personalities without falling (too hard) for his patient.
Disclaimer: My brain supplies the ideas and my fingers type the words. In this case huge amounts of research and personal interest fuel the facts.
Author Notes: This new one just might be my favorite alter. Yes! We have a new alter in this chapter. The link below goes to Chapter Three, scroll up a bit to find the link for Chapters One and Two. Also: This is the least I've obsessed about something before submitting it.
Previously: Link to Chapters
Patrick didn't sleep that night. Instead he went to Wal-Mart. It wasn't really an odd thing for him to do, at least not anymore. He'd been going there at early hours since he started his job. It gave him time to think, and to observe; although really, there weren't many people hanging around produce at three in the morning.
All his wanderings brought him to the home improvement section of the store and Patrick found himself looking at paint colours. He didn't really mind white walls, but Pete had suggested it, and he found himself wanting to please him. He made his selection and showed it to the tired man behind the counter. A few minutes later he was walking out the doors carrying bags of things he thought he might need to paint an office. That was a good thing about being at Wal-Mart early in the morning, nobody really wanted to talk much.
When he finished painting it was almost time for his session with Pete. He cleaned up and was behind his desk when Pete walked in the door and sat down on the couch. Pete laughed, "Y'know, you really didn't have to paint the room just because I suggested it."
Patrick blushed, "I had been planning this for awhile- I was tired of a white room."
Pete grinned, amused, "Lie. Tell me the truth Patrick. You did it because you wanted to please me."
Patrick shook his head, "I painted my office because it needed colour. Your casual suggestion had nothing to do with my decision."
It was Pete's turn to shake his head, "That's why you look like shit. Did you sleep at all last night? Or were you up painting?"
"I'd rather not talk about this. We have counseling to do. I got the result of your MMPI back and I'd like to ask you a few questions."
"Shoot."
"Well, you didn't answer questions..." Patrick looked at the papers in front of him, "twelve, one hundred sixty seven, and four hundred twenty. Was this intentional or accidental?" Patrick glanced down at his desk and scrawled a few words on his notepad. When he looked back up, Peter's posture had changed and he was rubbing absently at his knee.
"Well, maybe if you told me what questions those were I could answer you." Pete's voice and accent had changed. Unless Pete was suddenly British, Patrick was speaking to somebody else.
"Maybe in a moment." He pushed the papers aside and observed the new alter. "I have a feeling I may be speaking to someone I haven't met before." Patrick hoped the statement wouldn't be taken as a question of identity and no switch would be made.
The alter smiled, "You are correct. I answered the test questions. I'm Lear, for the most part, I'm in charge of the alters. Everyone except Pete and Peter. You can picture me as the guy behind the big desk pushing all the little buttons."
Patrick nodded and wrote down some notes, "It's nice to meet you Lear." He paused, "Do you know how many alters are in Peter's system?" It was a question he had been meaning to ask, but wasn't sure whom to address. Peter probably wouldn't know and Pete would've just laughed at him and given him something cryptic. This seemed like his chance.
Lear smiled, "There are seventeen alters in this system. You have met three of us. Now, about those questions I left blank?"
Patrick's eyebrows drew close together and he frowned at his notepad as he wrote the number down. "Yes, um. The questions: 'I think I am condemned to hell for my sins.' 'No one seems to understand me.' And 'I have had very peculiar and strange experiences.' Can you tell me why you left those blank?"
Lear laughed, "Yeah, well the first one. I don't know if I want to believe in hell or not. So I just kind of skipped over it. And the one about nobody understanding me, well- that's just a little emo isn't it? And how do I know if somebody understands me or not? And the last one- who am I to judge an experience peculiar or strange?" Lear grinned, "You're lucky I didn't write my own feedback in the margins. Honestly, where do they get off? Asking me questions like whether or not my limbs fall asleep or if I'm gay? I think I should've been able to write out my responses. True or False doesn't begin to cover my answer."
Patrick smiled as he wrote down some notes, "I'll be sure to remember that. You mind sending in another alter?"
"Course not, any preference?"
Patrick smiled, "Surprise me."
"Alright." The body's eyes flickered upwards and then Patrick was greeted with Pete.
Patrick gave a small smile, "Hello Pete."
Pete smiled back, "You're getting good at this."
"It's my job to be good at this."
"This is true." Pete grinned.
"Anyways, I have business to discuss." Patrick paused to gather his thoughts, then went on "The man you assaulted has dropped charges after his lawyer examined your mental evaluation. That means you are free to go. Although, I suggest you check into the Clinic connected to this compound. You'll no longer be a prisoner and if you refuse to check in I'm afraid I may not be your therapist anymore."
Pete looked curious, "What kind of Clinic is it? 'Cause I won't be staying in a place with white walls and shitty food."
Patrick smiled, "No, I'll suggest they give you a long-term room. You'll be allowed to wear your own clothes. You'll be interacting
with people and you'll be allowed into town with an escort. If you choose to stay there then you're-p[= still going to be my patient and, depending on your condition, you'll see me on a daily or weekly basis. This compound sits on over one hundred acres and you'll be able to go in and out as you please."
Pete grinned, "Sounds good. When do I move?"
Patrick checked the oversized clock on his wall, "It's nearly two now, do you have any personal belongings in the room you're staying in now?"
"Yeah, a few things."
"Okay," Patrick nodded. "Then go and get them and meet me back in here. I'll make a few phone calls and you should have a room before dinner."
Patrick stood up and watched Pete walk towards the door. Before he got halfway across the room though, Pete turned around, walked over to Patrick, hugged him tightly, whispered "Thank you" in Patrick's ear and kissed him lightly on the cheek. He turned on his heel and walked right back out, before Patrick could register that contact had been made.
Patrick's cheek tingled from Pete's breath and his ears were ringing from the kiss. He sank heavily into his chair and then picked up the phone, as he dialed the number he tried his best to remain composed and calm. As he made his calls, his voice remained steady but his mind was screaming at him to go find Pete and do...something.
<Author:
secularsaint::KatieRating: PG-13:: just to be safe ;)
Summary: Peter's been diagnosed with Dissociative Identity Disorder, his therapist Patrick is trying to fuse the multiple personalities without falling (too hard) for his patient.
Disclaimer: My brain supplies the ideas and my fingers type the words. In this case huge amounts of research and personal interest fuel the facts.
Author Notes: This new one just might be my favorite alter. Yes! We have a new alter in this chapter. The link below goes to Chapter Three, scroll up a bit to find the link for Chapters One and Two. Also: This is the least I've obsessed about something before submitting it.
Previously: Link to Chapters
Patrick didn't sleep that night. Instead he went to Wal-Mart. It wasn't really an odd thing for him to do, at least not anymore. He'd been going there at early hours since he started his job. It gave him time to think, and to observe; although really, there weren't many people hanging around produce at three in the morning.
All his wanderings brought him to the home improvement section of the store and Patrick found himself looking at paint colours. He didn't really mind white walls, but Pete had suggested it, and he found himself wanting to please him. He made his selection and showed it to the tired man behind the counter. A few minutes later he was walking out the doors carrying bags of things he thought he might need to paint an office. That was a good thing about being at Wal-Mart early in the morning, nobody really wanted to talk much.
When he finished painting it was almost time for his session with Pete. He cleaned up and was behind his desk when Pete walked in the door and sat down on the couch. Pete laughed, "Y'know, you really didn't have to paint the room just because I suggested it."
Patrick blushed, "I had been planning this for awhile- I was tired of a white room."
Pete grinned, amused, "Lie. Tell me the truth Patrick. You did it because you wanted to please me."
Patrick shook his head, "I painted my office because it needed colour. Your casual suggestion had nothing to do with my decision."
It was Pete's turn to shake his head, "That's why you look like shit. Did you sleep at all last night? Or were you up painting?"
"I'd rather not talk about this. We have counseling to do. I got the result of your MMPI back and I'd like to ask you a few questions."
"Shoot."
"Well, you didn't answer questions..." Patrick looked at the papers in front of him, "twelve, one hundred sixty seven, and four hundred twenty. Was this intentional or accidental?" Patrick glanced down at his desk and scrawled a few words on his notepad. When he looked back up, Peter's posture had changed and he was rubbing absently at his knee.
"Well, maybe if you told me what questions those were I could answer you." Pete's voice and accent had changed. Unless Pete was suddenly British, Patrick was speaking to somebody else.
"Maybe in a moment." He pushed the papers aside and observed the new alter. "I have a feeling I may be speaking to someone I haven't met before." Patrick hoped the statement wouldn't be taken as a question of identity and no switch would be made.
The alter smiled, "You are correct. I answered the test questions. I'm Lear, for the most part, I'm in charge of the alters. Everyone except Pete and Peter. You can picture me as the guy behind the big desk pushing all the little buttons."
Patrick nodded and wrote down some notes, "It's nice to meet you Lear." He paused, "Do you know how many alters are in Peter's system?" It was a question he had been meaning to ask, but wasn't sure whom to address. Peter probably wouldn't know and Pete would've just laughed at him and given him something cryptic. This seemed like his chance.
Lear smiled, "There are seventeen alters in this system. You have met three of us. Now, about those questions I left blank?"
Patrick's eyebrows drew close together and he frowned at his notepad as he wrote the number down. "Yes, um. The questions: 'I think I am condemned to hell for my sins.' 'No one seems to understand me.' And 'I have had very peculiar and strange experiences.' Can you tell me why you left those blank?"
Lear laughed, "Yeah, well the first one. I don't know if I want to believe in hell or not. So I just kind of skipped over it. And the one about nobody understanding me, well- that's just a little emo isn't it? And how do I know if somebody understands me or not? And the last one- who am I to judge an experience peculiar or strange?" Lear grinned, "You're lucky I didn't write my own feedback in the margins. Honestly, where do they get off? Asking me questions like whether or not my limbs fall asleep or if I'm gay? I think I should've been able to write out my responses. True or False doesn't begin to cover my answer."
Patrick smiled as he wrote down some notes, "I'll be sure to remember that. You mind sending in another alter?"
"Course not, any preference?"
Patrick smiled, "Surprise me."
"Alright." The body's eyes flickered upwards and then Patrick was greeted with Pete.
Patrick gave a small smile, "Hello Pete."
Pete smiled back, "You're getting good at this."
"It's my job to be good at this."
"This is true." Pete grinned.
"Anyways, I have business to discuss." Patrick paused to gather his thoughts, then went on "The man you assaulted has dropped charges after his lawyer examined your mental evaluation. That means you are free to go. Although, I suggest you check into the Clinic connected to this compound. You'll no longer be a prisoner and if you refuse to check in I'm afraid I may not be your therapist anymore."
Pete looked curious, "What kind of Clinic is it? 'Cause I won't be staying in a place with white walls and shitty food."
Patrick smiled, "No, I'll suggest they give you a long-term room. You'll be allowed to wear your own clothes. You'll be interacting
with people and you'll be allowed into town with an escort. If you choose to stay there then you're-p[= still going to be my patient and, depending on your condition, you'll see me on a daily or weekly basis. This compound sits on over one hundred acres and you'll be able to go in and out as you please."
Pete grinned, "Sounds good. When do I move?"
Patrick checked the oversized clock on his wall, "It's nearly two now, do you have any personal belongings in the room you're staying in now?"
"Yeah, a few things."
"Okay," Patrick nodded. "Then go and get them and meet me back in here. I'll make a few phone calls and you should have a room before dinner."
Patrick stood up and watched Pete walk towards the door. Before he got halfway across the room though, Pete turned around, walked over to Patrick, hugged him tightly, whispered "Thank you" in Patrick's ear and kissed him lightly on the cheek. He turned on his heel and walked right back out, before Patrick could register that contact had been made.
Patrick's cheek tingled from Pete's breath and his ears were ringing from the kiss. He sank heavily into his chair and then picked up the phone, as he dialed the number he tried his best to remain composed and calm. As he made his calls, his voice remained steady but his mind was screaming at him to go find Pete and do...something.