#capshaw

But Alfred was a different kind of delicate. He bent and twist nearly out of recognition at times but he didn’t actually break. And he stayed oddly resolute and himself. Harris couldn’t fully explain it if he tried but he treasured that spark in Alfred.

So yes, it was an indulgence, allowing the young man to gain a streak of strength… as he was quite sure this was what that was… but it was just so… intriguing to see that little flame keep fighting despite all the reasons it shouldn’t.

“Good morning Alfie- time to wake up. Up you go. Come on honey-”

The dazed young man did not fight the two orderlies that neatly scooped him out of his bed while the nurse spoke. He was too used to this.

Dr. Harris stepped aside from his post at the door for the patient to the ported through.

“Alfred, we have a rolling stretcher for you, are we going to put you on it or are you going to walk?”

Blearily, clearly only partially conscious, Alfred responded, “Walk- please-”

One of Harris eyebrows raised minutely as tried to conceal a smirk. There it was… even if cloaked in sleep and sedation.

The orderlies carried more than walked their patient as Harris trailed. Harris knew the orderlies and nurses never liked to be closely observed but he didn’t mind the prickling discomfort of his underlings, he was observing Alfred this morning. An extended clinical observation was well within the norm and his role so he didn’t mind at all.

When they arrived at the treatment room no one asked the young patient to climb onto the padded table, they simply lifted him up. Alfie was more awake by now but he knew better than to resist such an obvious eventuality. He might’ve even appreciated the help.

Although in moments like this he was beyond the niceties with orderlies by now, no more mumbled thank you’s or pleases in the guise of manners anymore. Harris found all patients fell out of the habit of such words after a requisite number of years institutionalized, they must all have individually recognized that no one was listening and the tasks would be performed day in and day out regardless of whether they said a word their mother taught them.

It was only after he was restrained that Harris approached his favorite patient.

“Good morning, Alfred.” He rested a confident hand on Alfred’s restrained similar.

Alfred looked surprised, clearly he hadn’t noticed him observing. He tried to conceal it quickly but Harris had seen it, as he saw every thought that passed through the young man’s head.

“What are you doing to me today?” Alfred asked, clearly working to maintain a disinterested tone to distract from his jolt. Cute.

“You ask but you don’t sound like you want to know. It’s not always in my patient’s best interest to know every step of their treatment plan.”

“Don’t worry, I learned that was your strategy a long time ago. Just thought if you were planning on punishing me you would enjoy telling me why first.” Did he detect a sense of humor this morning? A bit sardonic for his taste…

“Alfred, treatment is never punishment. It is for your own good.”

“For my own good.” Alfred nodded slowly, he was awake but clearly tired.

“What did I miss?” Capshaw had arrived and as usual spoke a little too loudly and with entirely too much swaggering confidence. That could be mellowed with age Harris knew.

Alfred broke eye contact with his doctor and let his eyes slide to nothing. An interesting defense mechanism. Almost like a possum playing dead… retreating into himself. He would have to note this in his private file.

“Mr. Finch and I were speaking about his treatment plan. Now that his restraints are applied I can tell him that today we are going to treat him to his first trial of metrazol therapy.”

He didn’t look scared yet. But that was only because he didn’t know what it was yet.

… Granted it was a good thing, for many… but the side effects and procedure were undoubtedly unpleasant.

“He never speaks around me,” Capshaw replied in annoyance, “So he won’t ask what it is. Or why it is saved for only the most unwell. I don’t know why you seem to enjoy his treatments when he is so uncooperative, Doctor.”

That young doctor did know how to subtly communicate, Harris would give him that. He could see Alfred’s fists clench slowly and his eyes close. Now he was getting nervous but he was trying to keep it from showing. His heart was practically singing with response no matter how subtle was being drawn from Alfred. This is what he really loved about him after all, moments like these trying in vain to steel himself against terror…

“It’s alright, Capshaw, let’s proceed. You can administer and I will observe. Let’s titrate up with care however… don’t want any broken bones on our hands.” Alfred’s face grew whiter. Oh how he savored moments like these, indeed.

“Alright Alfred. Say night, night.” Capshaw took the syringe from the assisting nurse with chilling enthusiasm and speed to plunge it into the pinned patient. Alfred was well trained, he stayed completely still until the only thing that betrayed his sedation into sleep was the limp release of his fists.

“I was surprised we didn’t attempt this treatment sooner Dr. Harris,” Capshaw remarked while they both looked down on the unconscious young man.

Harris arched a brow good naturedly, “You, Capshaw, need to learn the art of give and take. I knew this was an option but I didn’t care to throw all of the king’s men at such an inconsequential patient in one go.”

“Inconsequential? He’s dangerous. He's a murderer and deeply deluded, one of the worst of those delusions being that he hasn’t killed. That’s certainly dangerous.”

Oh yes. Capshaw really thought Alfred was indeed the murderer? That was amusing. Harris had known the judicial system had made a mistake from the first hour of meeting Alfred Finch.

He would not be the man to correct the rest of the world however. He would just work with what he had.

He sighed with a smile, “He may be dangerous out on the streets, but he will never be in this institution, I can guarantee you of that. Frankly I doubt these treatments will cure him but I think they are a good reminder for him of our capabilities and our control. That is how we keep patients safe, Capshaw, boundaries, clear and defined.”

Capshaw nodded as he picked up the next syringe on the tray, “I suppose you’re right, none of these treatments have really done anything to his delusions. But I suppose that’s also why he will never be released.”

Harris attempted a serious expression at the solemn thought. “Some souls were never intended to have freedom. I’ve believed for a long time that patients like him will be happier to live their lives in the protection and guidance of an institution.”

Capshaw injected a portion of the metrazol.

“Nurse, steady his head now when the seizures start.” Harris instructed as hints of twitching and pain flickered across the unconscious young man’s face and without looking away said, “I do know he is certainly going to fight us the next time we bring him in for this...”

And then the convulsing started in earnest.