ᴅʀ. ᴀbel ɢideon, the Chesapeake Rip-Off (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
enabeled) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
maskormenacelogs2014-01-28 07:53 am
enabeled) wrote in maskormenacelogs2014-01-28 07:53 am
if you could only see the beast you've made of me
WHO: ABEL GIDEON and FREDERICK CHILTON
WHERE: Park.
WHEN: 1/28, evening
WHAT: Gideon decides to confront Chilton about a few inconsistencies in his memories, and Chilton has a near miss.
WARNINGS: Discussion/references to psychosis, murder, violence.
[ The game was running overlong now, and Abel Gideon was getting impatient. Frustrated. Angry. And most of all hopeless, that was the one most inescapable, humiliating, and omnipresent... the knowledge that Gideon had no control over which of his memories were real and which weren't, nor control over being aware of the distinction.
He might not have even considered this issue some months ago, when he was aware he had his moments of murkiness but still could follow a cohesive pattern of events and victims that he had presumed were his own organic, repressed recollections. Ever since Alana Bloom had suggested there may be more to it than that, his consciousness had been restless, troubled, and more confused than ever. It wasn't that he trusted Frederick Chilton especially, or wanted to. It was that they had been working together for so long and he had come to expect, if not a sense of trust, a mutual understanding. Dr. Chilton was supposed to help him, because Gideon was supposed to be crazy. Just how crazy he couldn't even be certain of anymore.
It wasn't betrayal he felt. The burning outrage in his chest was over being used, manipulated, having his mind turned upside-down and rearranged without him even suspecting it had happened. He didn't know the truth for certain -- though he believed Dr. Bloom, and he supposed he trusts her, too -- yet the fact he couldn't discern what the truth was now was part of the problem.
It could be true. Or it could not be. He had to know. Even if he couldn't guarantee Dr. Chilton would meet him here as Gideon had requested -- if not, Gideon had alternatives -- he had to know.
He sat on a bench staring forward at nothing in particular, turning his memories and thoughts over to look for flaws as the darkness of evening began to fall. ]
WHERE: Park.
WHEN: 1/28, evening
WHAT: Gideon decides to confront Chilton about a few inconsistencies in his memories, and Chilton has a near miss.
WARNINGS: Discussion/references to psychosis, murder, violence.
[ The game was running overlong now, and Abel Gideon was getting impatient. Frustrated. Angry. And most of all hopeless, that was the one most inescapable, humiliating, and omnipresent... the knowledge that Gideon had no control over which of his memories were real and which weren't, nor control over being aware of the distinction.
He might not have even considered this issue some months ago, when he was aware he had his moments of murkiness but still could follow a cohesive pattern of events and victims that he had presumed were his own organic, repressed recollections. Ever since Alana Bloom had suggested there may be more to it than that, his consciousness had been restless, troubled, and more confused than ever. It wasn't that he trusted Frederick Chilton especially, or wanted to. It was that they had been working together for so long and he had come to expect, if not a sense of trust, a mutual understanding. Dr. Chilton was supposed to help him, because Gideon was supposed to be crazy. Just how crazy he couldn't even be certain of anymore.
It wasn't betrayal he felt. The burning outrage in his chest was over being used, manipulated, having his mind turned upside-down and rearranged without him even suspecting it had happened. He didn't know the truth for certain -- though he believed Dr. Bloom, and he supposed he trusts her, too -- yet the fact he couldn't discern what the truth was now was part of the problem.
It could be true. Or it could not be. He had to know. Even if he couldn't guarantee Dr. Chilton would meet him here as Gideon had requested -- if not, Gideon had alternatives -- he had to know.
He sat on a bench staring forward at nothing in particular, turning his memories and thoughts over to look for flaws as the darkness of evening began to fall. ]
no subject
The shock, Frederick. How are you handling it? Even psychiatrists have to take care of themselves... or no one else will. Because who else do you think might care?
no subject
[Chilton's sarcastic chuckle rang dry, a thump like a bird flying into a glassy window. There was only a stinging darkness in the corners of his smile -- who do you think might care?]
You evidently care.
[Even as he said it, he winced. Gideon had weaponized his attention, patronized with it. There wasn't much in the way of authentic care, not from his lips.]
no subject
Simply calling it to your attention, Frederick. Seems like the right thing to do when you yourself are so wrapped up in my head. It would be a shame if you couldn't get back into your own.
[ But with a delicious twist of irony, Gideon would acknowledge to himself. ]
no subject
[He recognized the knife between Gideon's teeth, and called out the glint. Chilton's return might have been heavy-handed, but the man felt entitled to push his sway over his former patient. After all, he had been Abel's doctor for nearly two years -- he knew the other man intimately. He know what Abel was, and he knew what he had made Abel into.]
My influence isn't limited to your head.
no subject
[ At least it doesn't hurt him, specifically. Not in the literal sense. His expression, be it smile, leer, or snarl, grew a moment before Gideon's lips tightened again.
It was tempting to do more. They were here alone, after all. But if anything, Gideon suspected it might close Chilton off more from giving answers. He did step closer, squinting at Chilton with unveiled scrutiny, then grasped him by the collar to pull Chilton a step closer. ]
I'm curious. Plenty of ways a person can make their mark. But what else but the mind would you consider a canvas, Frederick?
[ He lets go. ]
... Or do you already have another?
no subject
[He shot the question, a bullet between his teeth. It was posed with a suspect air, the warmth of rising haughtiness.]
How would that be your concern, Abel? I have confidentiality to maintain.
[Which was not a denial, in fact, it was a wayward confirmation.]
You're focused on yourself.
no subject
[ His smile was tight, just short of mocking, his expression a touch distant. Considerations forming, wheels turning, ideas being examined, but nothing committed to.
He wouldn't say he was concerned. Not yet, at any rate. What he was was curious... and the faint flicker of possession did stir somewhere in his chest, at the back of his head. The parts of him that still believed Chilton were unprepared to see him move on. ]
Not that I would accuse you of such. Or of anything... specific, not without evidence. You're welcome to your patients, Frederick. As many of them as you can handle. But don't assume they'll by able to approach my sort of of success.
[ There was the edge, the glass-sprinkled sentiment. He looked at Chilton with lidded eyes, but his jaw did clench. It was quickly becoming more obvious Gideon was going to have to find his own answers, and soon, if he could expect to make any progress with Chilton.
Whatever that ended up entailing. ]
no subject
Abel Gideon, he felt, had been too tainted by the likes of Alana Bloom. But the man would always be remembered as an invaluable patient; it was, in fact, upon Abel in which Chilton sharpened his manipulative technique. It's how he learned what suggestion could truly, viscerally wrought.]
True. They very well could surpass your success.
[They, he said, when he meant his use of them.]
If we're going by approximation.
no subject
[ It was spoken like an inquiry, but rang in the air more like a challenge. He raised his eyebrow in appraisal, in equal challenge, and he stepped close again just to look -- but he had surgeon's eyes, not psychiatrist's eyes, eyes that were drawn to facts and solutions and tangibility and found the recesses of the mind, the inner psyche, difficult to see through. To navigate. It was the pane of glass compared to a maze of mirrors. ]
I should try harder, then. If I'm ever to make their eventual acquaintance.
... Or maybe I have already.
[ Delivered almost as an afterthought, with a more pleasant smile. ]
You know, I wasn't actually expecting you to agree to meet me. Sometimes you do surprise me, Frederick.
no subject
[He said it with a jeer, his taunt palpable. There was something jagged about his playful tone, some acid embedded within his whimsy.]
But I can't allude to the fact, given that I maintain confidentiality with all my patients. [Or he does right now, anyway.] So -- if that will be all, Abel? I'm sure you have so many other things to attend to, aside from tormenting past doctors with your flights of delusion.
no subject
He was curious, but he could find out in other ways. Asking Chilton directly wasn't the wise way; interrogating, perhaps, should no other opportunity bear fruit. He stayed close, inches away from Chilton, and reaches with his hand as if he might touch Chilton--
Though the hand simply hovered, fingers curling against his palm. ]
Wouldn't ask for names, I know how much pride you take in your integrity. [ The smile lingers, but it's fainter. ] I won't keep you. Think I've heard what I needed to hear.
[ For now. ]
Always nice catching up with you.