Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Cool air whistled through the open windows at the end of the hallway, the moon outside providing the faintest illumination in the otherwise dark asylum. The weighty, metal flashlight Fred wielded could have brought more light, but he knew from experience there wasn't much to see. He'd walked these halls more than enough times to be able to do it blindfolded.

Stopping by the last door, he peered through the small slot. Once again, thanks to the clear night, he was able to tell just from the meager light shining through the windows that each patient in the room was in their respective bed. One was tossing and turning, but she was still on her bed and under the sheets.

Fred wished he could say the same for himself. He covered his mouth, letting out a muted yawn. He was done with his nightly rounds now, at least, so it wouldn't be long now for him.

Strolling to the end of the hall, he ducked down to peer through the window. At first he smiled up at the clear night sky, only for his brows to knit when he realized just why so much light was pouring into the hallway.

A full moon.

The hair raised on the back of his neck, and he shuddered, straightening his back. Years ago he'd laughed off the whole "things happen on the night of a full moon" saying as superstition... and then he'd become an orderly.

But nothing had happened tonight—nothing yet, anyway. Every patient who wasn't scheduled for treatment was in their bed, and the asylum was peaceful.

...Well, if you ignored the constant creaking of the building, the squeaking of stretcher wheels, and the occasional moan and groan from one or seven of the patients at any given time. But those didn't count.

Fred breathed in the night air and nodded. Yes, it was a perfectly normal night—the moon just happened to be full, that was all. And he'd finished his duties for tonight, so finally he could get some shut-eye and—

A shriek pierced straight through the asylum, up from the lower floors, causing Fred to jump so high he nearly hit the ceiling. A cacophony of shouts and yells immediately followed, and Fred took half a second to let out an exasperated whine.

So much for sleep.

Any more self-pitying could wait. He was right by the stairwell, and his long legs made quick work of it, carrying him down toward the source of the noise. But the second he realized just where it was originating from, he screwed up his face.

Not here.

Steeling himself, he opened the door and ducked through it, only to reel back and bash his head against the frame at the sight before him.

"LET GO! LET GO!"

"Get him off!"

Within the cramped room with its single bed, desk, and an electroconvulsive therapy machine were a doctor, three nurses, and a patient that Fred was all too familiar with. The patient was in a strait jacket and a shower cap, and the doctor and two of the nurses were trying and failing to pull him away from the third nurse, whose hand the patient was biting down onto. Fred didn't need to ask a single question to know why this had occurred.

The doctor, seeing Fred rubbing the back of his head in the doorway, growled through gritted teeth, "Bonaparte! Do something!"

"I-I got it, I got it—" he stammered, taking a half step further into the cramped room. Immediately the patient swung his weird mechanical eyes up toward him, his brow furrowed, red and green lights clashing with the dim yellow bulb overhead, daring Fred to oppose him.

Fred glanced back at the ECT machine, swallowing. He knew this was a standard treatment, but he also couldn't blame any patients for being resistant to it. Still, he shook his head and fixed the patient with a firm gaze. "Let her go, Caligosto. You know we've told you not to bite anyone!"

Caligosto's brow furrowed further, and he let out a muffled snarl like an angry dog. He had the capacity to act civil when he wanted to—Fred had seen it probably more than any of the other staff—but when it came to treatment...

Bending his knees until he was eye level, Fred leaned closer to the patient. He had to squint in the light of those weird eyes, but he hoped it made him look more intimidating. As much as he hated his patients to see him that way, in this case, it had to be done. "Caligosto, let her go, right now!"

It worked, but of course, not in the way Fred would have hoped.

With a grunt, Caligosto yanked his head back, teeth ripping over the poor woman's hand. She shrieked and pulled her hand back, looking for something to sterilize it with, while the patient snickered through gritted teeth, his mouth stretched into a manic grin.

Fred sighed, raising himself back up. That was over, at least—

The nurse gasped.

"M-my ring—!"

As she was speaking, there was a deep gulp from Caligosto.

Fred, the doctor, and all three nurses stared down at the patient before looking back up at each other.

This was going to be one of those nights, wasn't it.

At first Caligosto grinned smugly up at the nurse, only for his brows to raise and his face to start losing color. His chest gave a heave, only to halt partway through, and his eyes began to flicker. His arms frantically pulled at their restraints as his throat convulsed in a choked gag.

The doctor spat out a curse, yanking Caligosto off the bed and pulling him up against himself. Immediately the patient began to kick his long legs, nearly causing the doctor to lose his grip, and Fred knelt near Caligosto again.

"Stay still, he's gonna help you," Fred explained in a gentle, hushed voice.

Caligosto's eyes twitched over in Fred's direction shakily, but he stopped squirming, allowing the doctor to jam his hands against his gut. It took a few tries, but finally the patient hacked up the ring, which splatted in a coating of saliva and mucus against the bed. The patient's legs buckled, and he hung his head, wheezing.

"Finally," the doctor grunted. Fred nodded in agreement and was about to turn away when the doctor continued: "Maybe he'll be a bit more compliant now."

Fred froze, then turned to assess the situation again. His coworkers were all staring darkly at the patient, whose eyes were dim and flickering and whose face was panicked, his breaths coming in short gasps.

"H-hang on." Fred held up his hands, hunching his shoulders. "I think he's had enough for tonight. M-maybe we should postpone the treatment for now."

The doctor stared up at Fred for a long moment, bushy eyebrows furrowed, before he let out a growl, shoving the patient in Fred's direction. "Fine. Get him back to his room, then, Bonaparte. We'll schedule the treatment for another date."

Caligosto stumbled into Fred, who awkwardly caught him. "Uh—y-yessir," he replied, turning around to move the patient out of the tiny room.

Just as he moved Caligosto through the doorway, however, the doctor grabbed the back of Fred's shirt and yanked him back, hissing into his ear: "You will do something to break him of that biting habit."

Wincing, Fred nodded, and the doctor let him go.

Finally out of that hellish place, Fred placed a hand on his patient's back and guided him toward the stairwell. "C'mon, Caligosto, let's get you to bed."

As they began mounting the stairs, Caligosto's eyes swung in Fred's direction, flashing. "Postpone?" he croaked, his throat raw.

Fred cringed. "I know you don't like it, but it is treatment." When his patient's eyes tipped downward toward his feet, Fred ducked down closer to him. "It is. It's supposed to help you get better."

The eyes snapped back toward him again. "Have you ever seen a patient get better?"

The question caught him off guard, and he nearly tripped up the stairs. "N-not yet, but it can take a while for treatments to work!"

"...they thought so with my first one, too," came a low rasp.

Fred's head snapped back over to Cailgosto, his eyes wide, but his patient's head was hanging again. Curiosity tugged at the back of Fred's brain, but he didn't want to bother his patient any more tonight than he already had to. They said nothing as they mounted the last few flights of stairs, up to the individual room where Caligosto was kept. He was one of the patients that needed a room of his own, as he was prone to conducting… dentistry on any roommate he was given.

Once at the room, Fred produced a set of keys and unlocked the door, not missing the look of relief on Caligosto's face as he stepped into the room and sank down onto the bed. He was staring eagerly at the worn teddy bear that sat propped up against his pillow, and squirmed his arms against their restraints.

At first Fred went to untie the restraints as usual, but the doctor's words ran through his mind again, and he stopped himself. "...Caligosto, before I go, I need to talk to you about something."

Caligosto groaned. "What is it?" he whined, swiveling his eyes to look up at him. "I'm tired."

Fred drew in a breath. "You can't keep biting people."

"Oh, but I can!" Caligosto tipped his head, flashing a smile, his yellow teeth gleaming in the moonlight.

"You can't, though. I know you don't like the treatments we have to do, but it's for your own good."

"You'd think that, wouldn't you?" Caligosto's smile widened, his eyes glowing brighter. "Anything those silly doctors tell you."

Blood rushed to Fred's face. "Th-the doctors know what they're doing!"

"My father was a doctor, until he wasn't." His eyes took on a wicked glint. "None too bright, if you ask me!"

Fred nearly asked why, when it dawned on him the moniker Caligosto went by before he'd been apprehended: Doctor Loboto. It wasn't exactly hard to put two-and-two together to figure out why his father would no longer be in the medical field.

"...These doctors aren't your father," he said instead. "They want you to get better... and I do, too."

Something about the way he'd said it seemed to catch Caligosto off-guard. His patient's smile faded, and he shut his mouth, his mechanical eyes scanning the floor.

Fred moved in closer, sitting next to him on the bed and placing a hand on his patient's shoulder. "That's why you've got to trust us, Caligosto."

But Caligosto shook his head, standing up. "N-no!" he cried. "You don't understand—you don't know what that does do you—"

"You're right; I don't." Fred stared at him firmly. "But they do."

"No they don't, you toothless numbskull!" his patient snarled, stamping his foot and leaning close to his face. "You know what you are—you're—you're a smiling doormat in front of a torture chamber—!"

Anger bolted down his spine, enough for him to spring to his feet. "Now that's enough!" he snapped. "No more of that, Caligosto, do you understand? No more biting, at least—"

"You'd bite too, if you knew what that treatment did!"

Fred drew in a breath, trying to calm himself down; arguing with a patient never ended well. "Okay, so what does it do?"

"I don't know!" Caligosto wailed, stepping back. "I-I can't remember—it's made me forget things, but I don't remember what I'm forgetting, and, and—!"

Ah, right. Slowly the anger drained from Fred's chest, and some of the tension left his shoulders. "That's just a side-effect, Caligosto," he said gently. "It'll pass, don't worry."

"But it won't! It hasn't! I still can't remember what it made me forget…!"

"Well..." Fred glanced aside. "Let me put it this way: if you stop fighting with the doctors, they won't give you that treatment as often, and you'll recover even faster." He looked up, giving Caligosto an encouraging smile. "How's that sound?"

But Caligosto shook his head, taking several steps back. "No, no, I won't! They can't!"

Fred heaved a sigh; Caligosto was never the easiest patient to deal with. "I didn't want to have to do this," he muttered, scanning the room.

His eyes fell upon the teddy bear sitting on the bed.

Caligosto followed his gaze, and gave a jolt of panic. He was fast, but Fred was faster, snatching the bear off the bed. "NO!" the patient wailed, crashing against the bed. He was quick to scramble back upright, teeth bared in a frantic snarl as he rushed at Fred. "Give him back!"

Bracing himself against the door frame, Fred held the teddy bear away while lifting up one of his legs, catching Caligosto underneath his bound arms and gently pushing him back. He fixed his patient with a firm look. "No, Caligosto. You know the rules. If you can't behave, you get personal item privileges taken away."

"N-not that," Caligosto cried, pushing against Fred's leg desperately. "Please, please—"

"Then you have to agree to stop biting. Stop fighting with the doctors and nurses!"

But Caligosto only wailed again, his legs scrambling as he tried to get closer. In spite of Fred's efforts to keep him away, he managed to push Fred's leg back, getting closer to the teddy. As his arms weren't free to grab it, he opened his mouth, as though attempting to snag it in his teeth.

"No, Caligosto. I'm sorry for this." With a swift kick he sent his patient stumbling backwards and crashing back into his bed. As Caligosto struggled to sit up right, Fred lowered his leg and stared at the teddy in his hands, noticing that one of its button-eyes was on the verge of falling off. "With your biting habit, the eyes on this thing wouldn't be safe for you, anyway."

Caligosto let out a choked noise, and Fred looked up in alarm. But he only sat on the edge of his bed, mechanical eyes dim and staring at nothing.

"...I'm sorry, Caligosto," he said, and stepped out of the room, locking the door behind him.

The creaks and groans of the tower and its residents drowned out the choked sob behind him.

He really should have gone to bed, but the curiosity that itched at the back of his brain wasn't going to let him sleep.

(Nor was the weight in his chest, but he wasn't going to think about that right now.)

Fred kept the teddy bear tucked under his arm as he angled his flashlight down at the filing cabinet drawer, frowning as he used his free hand to flip through the folders. Larence... Linzy... Loboto. There it was! After retrieving the folder, he opened it atop the drawer, scanning over the records. Many of them were recent treatments he'd had, but Fred looked further, past the papers signed by Houston Thorney.

There.

There was a record from a hospital on the other side of the country, the copied ink faded and hard to read. But it was from at least a decade ago, and seemed to be a record of a specialized procedure, of a...

A shudder wracked Fred's spine, and he shut the folder, shoved it back into the drawer, and slid it closed. He stared blankly at the filing cabinet for a moment, then found himself looking down at the teddy bear, and gave a start.

The lopsided button eyes of the bear stared back at him, and for the first time he noticed the patch between them, covering the top of the bear's head.

He'd heard of the procedure. It was only done in extreme cases, but it was supposed to be effective. Wasn't it? Yet here Caligosto was, years later, in a mental institution.

Fred shook his head, clutching the teddy bear close.

"Don't worry, Caligosto. We'll be the ones to help you... I just know it."