Dream On

Disclaimer: Sadly, I own only myself. Hell, even Cassia isn't really mine because I stole her from my friend, but it's all good. I don't know **giggle** Orlando Bloom. I wish. I can't say that I have any impact on his actions, good or bad, and I most certainly don't own a mental hospital.
Summary: Orli ponders in the mental hospital

Chapter Three

I itch. Oh God I itch everywhere. Something they gave me, I think. Something to make me be quiet, toe mee me stop screaming for justice in this hellhole. I've been here a month and a half, and I'm no closer to getting out than that first day when they drugged me and threw me aside.

My hands scratch my forehead, where the itch is the worst. Must have been the vicoden. Stupid fuck-ups. They should have asked if I was allergic to anything. No, my family should have told them. I find out, two days ago, that it was my family that put me here. My dear sister came and visited me for the first time and dropped that bomb on me. Told me some shit about everyone being worried about me. What the fuck for? It's not like they cared when my whole life was blown to pieces.

The door opens and I turn to see my friend, a girl named Cassia, stumble into the room. They drug her a lot too. They caught onto the throwing up pretty quick and started using needles for her. Poor chit.

"Hey Fairyboy. What's new on the medicine chart for you?"

I laugh at nicknickname. "Vicoden my dear Mulder. For the headache I got last night from banging my head on the door, then from the chair that fucked up shit head broke over my back yesterday. Can barely walk."

I can see the gears in her head clicking. I fought for her honor yesterday and she hasn't even thanked me. "Yeah, that was a pretty wicked fight you two had. All for little old me." She talks like she has all the time in the world, drawn out, slow, and slightly slurred. That's not her fault.

We sit in silence, much as we've done together for the last three weeks. The TV is just as loud as ever, though the room around us seems quieter. Four patients/prisoners are sick with the flu and are in confinement. The rest of us just mill about. Maybe I could write a movie about life in the mental ward. I smile grimly as I think of the mental ward movies already out there. Better not ruin that sacred place.

I start slightly as I remember what month it is. December. Just a year ago, I was in London for ROTK, attending the premier with Atti on my arm and the cast, my friends, around me supporting me. How things change when some psycho twelve year old kills your best friend and your girlfriend just because you're famous. A tear drips from my eye. I wipe it away. I've spent far too long thinking of Atti and Meg already in this goddamned place.

I turn to Mulder. "So, we've been here for days and you still haven't told me why you're here."

She's morose and quietly picking at her fingernails. "Someone tried to kill me, but everyone thinks that I tried to kill myself. But I didn't you see. It was them. They're going to kill me one of these days and I won't be surprised."

"Hmmm, sounds interesting."

"Yeah."

Awkward pause.

"Why are you here?"

"I killed my best friend."

"Sounds interesting."

"Yeah, bloody interesting."

Someone across the room screams out my name. It's the god damned head nurse, you know, 'She-Who-Is-An-Eternal-Bitch'. She screams something about therapy time and I glance at the clock. Sure enough it's 4:00. Time to go. I stand and smile down at the woman sitting in front of me. "I'll see ya later Mulder. Don't let anyone get to you while I'm gone."

She nods. "See ya later Fairyboy. Don't tell them anything about me, okay?"

"Mr. Bloom, it was reported that you got into a fight with another patient last night."

"Yeah, and?"

"That type of behavior isn't tolerated in this institution."

"What are you going to do? Kick me out? Poison me with more drugs? Kill me?" I glare a little harder at my therapist, trying to drive the barb home. She doesn't seem intimidated in the least.

"No, I'm recommending that you spend a week in solitary, then a week with insulin shock therapy. This destructive behavior has to stop."

I stand quickly, as I often have in this office. "You can not fucking do that to me! You know I'm sane. I wasn't trying to hurt him; I was trying to defend my friend. You can't throw me in that hole for caring about another person!"

Now, she cracks. Her eyes grow slightly wider, and I can see a tiny fear in those blue depths as she witnesses my resolute explanation. "You were defending someone?"

"Yes. A patient tried to get a bit too frisky with another patient, who happens to be my only friend in this place, and I decided that this wasn't acceptable."

"Got too frisky? You mean cop a feel? Where was the orderly during all of this."

"Laughing, and watching us fight. I think they were taking bets until I broke the fucker's nose." I smile bitterly at the memory of crunching cartilage that must have echoed in his head.

"That sounds plausible. I keep telling them that we need new orderlibut but they don't listen to me."

"Poor little you."

"Hey, I'm agreeing with you, you don't have to insult me." I lower my head at her comment. She's right, of course. Fucking bitch. "Fine, then I change my recommendation for you to be put in solitary confinement for three days and intensified therapy. We need to fix these issues you have Orlando. The sooner you're healthy again, the sooner you can leave. All you have to do is try."

I know she's right. Fuck, I knew she was right the moment she opened her mouth. I don't want to think about it though. Damn, I need a cigarette. Weeks, and not one puff. What I wouldn't give . . .

"Let's start for today Orlando. How are you feeling?"

I stop my train of thought and just look at her. How am I feeling? "I feel like an animal that's been trapped and tortured all because it had the misfortune to wander into the wrong yard. I feel a sense of helplessness that could only come with complete loss of control. I feel like I need a smoke and that the only thing in the world that could help me was if Atti were here. He'd get me out in twenty seconds. You people wouldn't stand a chance."

She leans forward, her ears picking up every word as she frantically writes on her little pad. This is the first time she's ever had a little pad, and she should be glad. That's the most I've given her the whole time I've been here.

"You said a name. Atti. Who is Atti?"

Why the fuck did I open my mouth?

"Atti is- was my best friend. His real name was Andre Schneider, but his little sister couldn't say Andre. All she could get out was Atti." My voice cracks at the thought of Moni. Monique is such a special little girl in my life. Nearly 12 and all grown up.

"What happened to Atti Orlando? Why is he no longer your best friend?"

I grow distant as the sounds of shouting and running feet explode around me, and I'm transported back to the park in London when that psycho pulled a gun on him . . . and on Meg. God, I was going to ask her to marry me. We were going to be happy. It's all gone now. "A fan shot him three times in the chest, before turning the gun on my girlfriend and killing her too. All to prove her love to me. What a fucked up world we live in."

She stopped writing, and flipped back through my file. "It doesn't say anything about the shootings in your file. Is there a reason for that?"

I look up at her, tears blotting my eyes. "I asked them not to put anything about either of them in there. It's only been a few months."

Handing me a Kleenex, she flips back and starts to scribble again. It hurts like a bitch to hear the name Meg. Such a simple, elegant, beautiful name. To go with a simple, elegant, beautiful woman.

"I think we can stop with that today. I've pushed you pretty hard, and I apologize. We'll talk again tomorrow."

I'm led back to my room, told to pack a few things, then led down to Solitary. I pass Cassia on the way. She smiles before the orderly leading her yanks on her straight jacket and she falls back in step behind him. I hear her hum a few bars to a song I barely remember, but could never forget. It was Meg's favorite song.

"Everything's gonna be alright. Everything's gonna be okay."

That's all for now. Kinda long, kinda not. Interesting plot development. Story is coming to an end as well . . . Review for me please, and let me know what you like/dislike! LONG LIVES THE ELF! @}'~~