Semblance

Prologue

Milou Tanning never was very good at being prepared. She was always late to her appointments, she usually wound up in the wrong room before realizing she was supposed to be elsewhere, and she always thought of the best comebacks after the situation had been stagnant for hours.

Which brings us to the present situation. Milou was, as always, unprepared for her life. The difference this time was the simple fact that Milou was not, in the slightest, aware of the single most important way that she was unprepared.

His name was Dr. Fiddler.

Chapter One

Dr. Fiddler did what most would consider to be a power walk through the main entrance on his first day at Sunnybrooks Mental Institution. Boots clicking, hips swinging in the most masculine way possible, Dr. Fiddler was a sight to see as he made his way up to the front desk, ready to ask for instruction.

The receptionist looked up, expression bored until her eyes locked with those of the doctor. A certain gleam entered the receptionist's eyes in that moment; a gleam that made her appear exponentially more lively.

Dr. Fiddler rolled his eyes. He knew that gleam and he knew it very well. Attraction. Appealing in the outside world, but when you work in such a place as he was about to enter, attraction could be deadly. Distracting and a nuisance, searching for a woman just weren't worth it in his world. He was surely destined to be alone.

“Tade?” The receptionist inquired, misusing her access to his first name and batting her eyelashes heavily. Dr. Fiddler sighed.

“Dr. Fiddler, if you may.” He replied politely. No point at all in a lack of manners.

The receptionist giggled. Occupants of the room turned to watch at the din. Dr. Fiddler covered his face slightly with his hand in response to the attention. This was not the way he had imagined his first day.

“Of course.” The receptionist replied, handing Dr. Fiddler a slip of paper with the room number of his boss on it. A process which could have taken about five seconds to be over with, had the receptionist remained professional upon his entrance. Of course, luck was against him. He accepted the piece of information, skimming over it to ensure it contained the required information so he would not have to make a separate trip back downstairs. It was his first day and Dr. Fiddler knew the First Floor would be a floor he was going to be avoiding for the foreseeable future.

The information was, of course, all there. With an addition. A phone number, scribbled hastily at the bottom met Dr. Fiddler's eyesight upon arrival. Dr. Fiddler looked up in shock at the receptionist, slightly shocked in her lack of shame. She batted her eyelashes in response. Dr. Fiddler ripped the number off and handed it back to her in a fit of disgust.

“Just in case you forget.”

Dr. Fiddler made his way down the main hallway of Floor Three feeling exponentially better than he had when walking down the hallway of Floor One, if only because he knew there probably wasn't any skanky receptionist on this floor. Probably.

Glancing down at the ripped piece of paper in his hand, Dr. Fiddler stopped in front of the appropriate door, raising his fist to knock.

Just as his fist met the oak for the first time footsteps pounded down the hallway, steadily growing louder. Dr. Fiddler turned slightly in time to see a short brunette stop at the same door he was at.

The door opened, and Dr. Fiddler's new boss, Dr. Brown smiled insincerely at the brunette girl standing beside the doctor.

“Good morning, Milou. Late again, I see?” Dr. Brown inquired, opening the door wider and angling her body so as to allow Milou in. “Dr. Fiddler.” She continued, holding out a hand for him to shake. “I trust you had little to no problem finding us?” Dr. Fiddler shook his head, intending on keeping his receptionist encounter on the back burner for the present moment. “Please, step inside.” She invited, gesturing to the unoccupied seat next to the Milou girl.

Dr. Fiddler entered the room, noting the generic doctor decor. Framed certificates lined the walls behind the impressively large desk, sporting few picture frames containing the predictable portraits of children and puppies.

Dr. Brown seated herself behind the desk, swivelling slightly in her chair as she did so. Adjusting herself, Dr. Brown formed a tent from her fingers on her desk, leaning forward on her forearms as she did so.

Dr. Fiddler rested his arms on his armrests in anticipation of whatever she was about to throw at him. It appeared from her seated stance it was going to be something of great importance. On the first day, even.

“Dr. Fiddler, I would like for you to meet Milou.” Dr. Brown introduced. Dr. Fiddler turned his head, nodding at Milou in confusion. Milou appeared to be just as confused as Dr. Fiddler, if not more so. “Milou is going to be your first patient here at Sunnybrooks.”

“Hold the phone.” Milou spoke up for the first time. Dr. Brown looked at her in shock, presumably due to Milou's interruption of her speech. “What happened to Dr. Diaz? I liked the old guy?”

Dr. Brown frowned. Dr. Fiddler could only assume his boss, in contrast to Milou, did not like Dr. Diaz.

“Dr. Diaz is on leave.” She explained shortly, shooting Milou a glance that clearly said Don't go there. Milou ignored her.

“Is it because he didn't think I was crazy?” She asked casually. Dr. Brown's gaze sharpened, if possible.

“Ms. Tanning. I do hope you realize the expression is ridiculous. Here at Sunnybrooks...”

“I know. I know. Nobody is crazy.” Milou interrupted, her voice low with disbelief. Dr. Fiddler watched in amusement as Dr. Brown's lips pursed. It was evident Dr. Brown did not agree with this motto, despite the reminder to Milou.

“I would very much like...” Dr. Brown continued through clenched teeth. “For this patient doctor relationship to be significantly more successful than your last, Ms. Tanning.” She finished. “You may be excused. Dr. Fiddler will be in contact with you for your first meeting.”

Milou stood up, her chair scraping loudly against the stone floor. She shot a cold smile at Dr. Brown and turned, her hair flicking dramatically as she did so. Marching out the door, she slammed it slightly at the end, causing Dr. Brown to shut her eyes and rub her temple.

“Dr. Fiddler.” She continued, removing her hand from her forehead. “I would like very much for you to take a look at Milou's folder,” At this she handed him a large, manilla folder. “and arrange a daily meeting with her.”

Dr. Fiddler nodded, accepting the manilla folder without hesitation. He pushed back his chair once the folder had been tucked inside his briefcase and held out his hand for Dr. Brown to shake. This was going to be an interesting job.

Dr. Fiddler sat at his not as large as that of Dr. Brown but still very sizeable desk. The manilla folder sat in the dead centre of the desk, emptied of its' contents.

The contents of the folder, in contrast to the folder itself were strewn across every surface. Notes in both a masculine hand (Dr. Fiddler presumed this hand to be that of Dr. Diaz) and a more feminine hand (supposedly that of Dr. Brown) were scrawled across numerable numbered pages.

“Page one.” Dr. Fiddler muttered, finally finding the page he so desired to start at- the page that would hopefully explain just why this patient in particular required so many notes.

Milou Tanning Was the heading. Dr. Fiddler figured this was a given, and so continued on.

As the page progressed, things began to make mild sense. According to the doctors, Milou suffered from a severe case of schizophrenia. She lacked, however, the ever so classic paranoia symptom. The only thing remarkably different about Milou's beliefs was her belief in Parker.

Dr. Brown's notes about Parker and Dr. Diaz's notes about Parker shared very few similarities.

Dr. Brown's notes labelled Parker as an 'imaginary friend' of sorts, just blown out of proportion, while Dr. Diaz's notes contained more details about Parker- as though written from the perspective of Milou.

Dr. Fiddler put the notes down. Of course it would sound as though it was from the mouth of Milou- it was. The notes were the notes of a therapist who recorded what she was saying.

Dr. Fiddler spent the next two and a half hours reading through the detailed notes of the doctors, compressing the notes to two pages of his own at the end. Pushing back his chair, Dr. Fiddler glanced at the watch strapped to his left wrist and began to make his way out of the office. It was high time, in his opinion, to pay a visit to his new patient.

As he made his way down the hallway he took note of the names labelled on the doors, keeping his eye out for Milou's name.

“Would you stop that?” Milou's voice, fresh in Dr. Fiddler's mind from that very morning, floated down the hallway accompanied by a few bangs on the door she stood in front of. Dr. Fiddler looked up, finding Milou to be standing in the middle of the very long hallway. Beginning to make his way down, Dr. Fiddler stopped within the meter. Perhaps it would be best to just observe for a moment...

“Stop what?” Came the second, unfamiliar voice. Dr. Fiddler watched as the door opened to reveal a tall blonde lady, stepping out into the hallway and closing the door quietly.

“Stop watching me through the window.” Milou managed through clenched teeth. The blonde lady laughed, tossing her hair over one shoulder.

Dr. Fiddler pulled out his notebook. Perhaps Milou did show paranoid characteristics when outside the doctor's office?

“It's what you deserve.” The blonde answered. Dr. Fiddler stopped his notes, scribbling them out. Or not... “With your good looks you're practically begging to be watched.” She finished, smirking as Milou's face went red.

“I don't care what you say, Matilda. Nobody deserves the looks you give me through that window.” Milou replied, pushing off from the wall she had been leaning against and walking down to the next door down the hallway.

Dr. Fiddler lingered in the hallway for a few moments after the departure of Milou and the blonde, Matilda. He had a feeling this assignment was going to get very interesting very quickly.