Color Me Curious
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Claire Keane
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@william-chapman-blog
I wish it was socially acceptable for a doctor to lock himself in his office.
Possibly? If there are, Iâd suggest you start recruiting soon.
I hear Spaceman is offering lollipops.
Damn that man. River what do you suggest my strategy be. I can't just rely on my good looks and charm.Â
I wish it was socially acceptable for a doctor to lock himself in his office.
Oh, I do. Of course I do. Team Chapman, and all that.
Cross my heart and hope to die.
There are teams? [He isn't surprised, and he's grateful for River's companionship. Even if it's sarcastic.]
I wish it was socially acceptable for a doctor to lock himself in his office
[That explains decently why he doesnât think heâs met the man.] And yourself?
[He eyes O'Neil, his blatant misunderstanding of the world around him. It wasn't psychopathy, sadism, and there wasn't malice or any sort of emotion Chapman could place behind the young mans eyes. Only curiosity.] Dr. William Chapman, Mr. O'Neil.
I wish it was socially acceptable for a doctor to lock himself in his office.
I think that means youâre gonna kill people. Thatâs probably not a good thing for a doctor to say.
Not what I'm saying. You're reading far too much into words Mr Pearson.
I wish it was socially acceptable for a doctor to lock himself in his office.
I see you havenât grown tired of this little feud yet, doctor.
Not little. Ms. Blane, here I thought you'd take your doctor's feuds a little more seriously.
I wish it was socially acceptable for a doctor to lock himself in his office
Spaceman? [He can appreciate alone time, even if he feels he spends perhaps a bit too much of it.]
Yeah, owns this entire institution Walks around drunk half the time, often doesn't show up to work.Â
I wish it was socially acceptable for a doctor to lock himself in his office.
Well, why canât you? You should just do what you want.
If I did what I wanted I feel a lot more patients would be... Unavailable for therapy Mr. Pearson.Â
I wish it was socially acceptable for a doctor to lock himself in his office.
But we all can't be Spaceman.
Invested In My Soul †self
[I spent my time watchin' the spaces that have grown between us. And I cut my mind on second best or the scars that come with the greeness. And I gave my eyes to the boredom, still the seabed wouldn't let me in, And I tried my best to embrace the darkness in which I swim.]
It was taxing; William could feel it in his very core. Shadows looming in the darkest corners of the outstretched path, wandering the halls, lights hung above bright and fluorescent despite the time of night, and the doubtfully sleeping patients that lay beyond closed doors.Â
There was a storm that raged. Despite his ability to curb what he had often deemed vulgar displays of anger since transferring. (Ridding himself of Eli had allowed that.) But what brought much more burden to the Doctors shoulders was he was suddenly the recipient of âhealthy humanistic expressionâ. More often than not it was River who graced his office, fluttering and gushing about. . But it was Aileen who broke his façade of charming concern. She had gotten under his skin, started the clock. Whilst Riverâs growing dependency rose, as each and every person who she deemed real due to some hidden electricity left her. She, in many ways, was the essence of romanticism that could potentially be Elliotâs downfall. Elliot had Cotards, a syndrome that caused one to believe they were rotten, parts of them falling away piece by piece. The very idea that perhaps he was -the idea sweet, worrisome River had perpetuated- could only lead to acts far more sinister.
 On the other hand She believed herself happy, and happiness was relative. Chapman knew that. He knew that one should never wish to be happy, but wish to be whole. To take the good with the bad, and strive to live, not just exist. Birth had hindered that from him. Emotions were never something he had; heâd looked after his sister by role rather than care. He kissed his mother dutifully when leaving the house like his father and many others had told him to. Psychology helped him understand what society deemed was normal, and normal, -most hypothesized- was being an entirely whole, and functional human. It drew William into a world of understanding. Finally he understood his indifference to the living. With the death of his sister, he was submitted to consoling.
Dr Reynolds slowly discovered over the course of a year the psychopathic child that graced his presence. The black and white ideals the young boy held up above all else. Good people do bad. Bad deserve to be punished. It was as if this fundamental principle had to be white washed, and so extensive therapy began. To the doctor Chapman was nothing more than his âcareer breakâ, his prodigy patient. William became functional through education; his doctor assuming the second would grow as Will became âattachedâ to those around him.
 âYoung Psychopath turned Civilized by Reynoldsâ
graced newspapers across the country. Willâs identity protected under the privacy act signed by his guardians. When interviewed, William had given them what they wanted, a small smile and shy performance,
âI want to help others who suffer⊠Like I did.â
But that was the lie right there wasnât it? Because even now as Chapman graced the halls of Rosewood Asylum, he knew he had never suffered. Never changed. He had merely got better at hiding it. William thought of himself as a scatterbrained old Cadillac, driven into the ground it somehow kept on starting without fuss. But as time trickled on, he knew it could be any second until that old engine stalled. Releasing a part of Chapman he had long locked away.
[The slick grin across her lips only widens, leaning forwards onto the desk, propping her head up by a clenched fist, chin resting on her knuckles, propped up by her elbow. She deeply furrows her brow, shaking her head and tsk-tsk-ing.] Too many boys. Etta Etta Etta. Of course Iâm perfect, what do you mean I donât get paid as much as Spaceman?  Heâs not dead River, good god this is almost as bad as the one that chopped people up.  Have we talked about my hair today. Itâs really just being fantastic. [She loses it right at the end, reclining in the chair and letting out what she can only assume is the most uninhibited laugh sheâs let out in months.]
[Chapman exhales, but it breaks into a loud laugh, he can't help but close his eyes, shaking his head softly.] There are too many boys. I do have perfect hair. I am perfect. And I do deserve a massive pay rise. [He cocked his head to the side and grinned. He hadn't seen her this happy in months. Whether or not she had moments of pleasantness like this was almost beyond him, and it pained Chapman to think about it. Rustling his hair again, he grins softly.]Â
You're brighter than ever today River my dear.
[She smiles slightly, a bit taken back by the gesture, but curious all the same, sitting herself down in the slick leather seat meant only for the form of The Doctor. It feels foreign, convoluted almost, to be where he should be and him where she would. But itâs interesting nonetheless, and she revels in it briefly, playfully picking up a stack of folders and straightening them on the desk in a professional manner.]Â Now, Mr. Chapman, where were we? I trust youâve been staying out of trouble. Less romantic squabbles and more walks on the grounds? You know, your grandmother called. Sheâs very concerned about the drug incident. And who is that gawky, quiet patient youâve been hanging around? You know you should learn to pick your friends better. [A pair of reading glasses in front of her finds its way atop her nose, sliding down it just slightly so that she can give an authoritative, scholarly look down the brim at him.]
[Chapman smiles, feigning a high pitched voice. Putting his fingers to his lips before looking up at the ceiling] Oh I don't know sometimes I feel like I'm falling into the sky and I'm not all that special. Other times I wonder what moths feel and whether they are aware how crazy they make the cat. I'm faster than the sun most days, [his grin widens as he reclines] I know you think I am the world, but I choose not to believe it.
[River licks her lips, nervously almost, for no particularly reason at all. Yet doesnât it always feel this way? The door is ajar, almost as if heâd known she were coming, despite how very unannounced she is. She knocks, uselessly, as her head is already peeking through the door.] Too late for visitors?
[He opens one eye, a sly smile forming at his lips causing the pen to fall onto the couch beside his neck.] Never too late for visitors, especially if the visitor is you Ms Blane. [He sits up slowly, pushing the wild curls at the ends of his hair down, and loosening his already crinkled tie. Pouring himself a glass of water he motions for her to sit in the chair he would normally conduct sessions from. He thought she would enjoy the privilege]
[Chapman lies on his couch, his door ajar, as he dozes almost soundlessly in and out of sleep. His chest covered in paperwork with a pen hanging tediously from his lips, blue ink staining his mouth]
A patient has bit me when I have attempted to speak to them.
I do not believe they would want me to know their story, but curiosity is a nauseous thing.
You should be wary, Mr Allard. There have been several incident reports for more than one or two patients still practicing Cannibalism.
If I were you -Thankfully I am not- I would possibly have the bite checked. You never know what bacteria someone is cultivating in their mouth.Â
[She inhales deeply, unsure if speaking on the long-buried past was the wisest choice she could make given her current situation. But she was tired and feverish and sad, and it was Chapman asking the questions. How funny it is, the only person she wills her self to open up to fully is the one person sheâs actually supposed to. She hadnât seen that coming.] It feels strange, to be surrounded by those who understand me. [She avoids the word âpeople.â] And, at the same time, it tugs at my metaphorical heart. [he wouldnât enjoy the phrasing, but sheâs sure heâd appreciate her honesty nonetheless.] I have actual reality in the palm of my hand. Thinking back on the rooftop and the days of unbridled emotion with an actual human being isâŠÂ trying.
[She mocks a smile for a moment.]Â Other than you, of course.
Metaphorical. Interesting [his lips quip and he too mocks a smile.] How so is your heart metaphorical what is there instead? [he pondered the image for a moment, it grated against his mind as often in the dark hours he spent reviewing patients files, and medication he too felt his heart was not really there.]
What are you days filled with now? How have they changed who you are? [He knew the questions were far to vast and open for many other patients, but he had a sort of fatherly proudness at the young blondes ability to tackle all questions vast and obscure.]
Chapman?
Iâm sorry I got mad at you.
[Looking up from the clutter he spies the Redhead. Having already taken note of Aileen's strong demeanor, Chapman finds it surprising -though not impossible- for the young girl to go back on her word. Shuffling papers he extends his hand and signals for her to enter.] Ms Wulmett you're allowed to feel however you want towards me, as long as it doesn't interfere with your progress. Getting frustrated in sessions is surprisingly a very common part of therapy.Â
[River feigns a smile, but itâs short-lived after the mentions of his opinion of the roof.]Â It hadnât damaged me. It saved me.
[She shakes her head, knowing that that were where his mind would wander. Charlie had tainted her in his mind, no matter how much she tried to remedy it. It burned to think about.] And what if I were withdrawing? Iâm not, simply to ease your mind⊠but if I were? [Her playful banter immediately falters, thinking back on the rooftop from before â the place of remedy, the wind and rain and smoke billowing from between his perfect lips. Her stomach lurched at the thought.] It hadnât been⊠but the thought brings it back. I know you donât care to hear it butâŠ
[He sighs, not one of disappointment but frustration] I always care to hear. I may not always approve, but I always want to hear okay? [He took from his coat pocket a watch which straps had long ago broken. Looking at the time he shook his head] I have time if you want to tell me.
