Dreamer (Unlikely friendship, unhealthy relationship, OC)

CH. 1: Hugo Strange POV

He took another sip from his tea cup and glanced over the files for his newest patient again. She had a long history they managed to dig up. In and out of foster group homes, treatment centers, and mental wards since the age of nine. Jennifer Wiseman was an ordinary name for a girl that had been diagnosed over her 22 years with everything from depression and general anxiety disorder, to borderline and bi-polar disorders. Which wasn't what interested Hugo Strange. His interest was in two rarer subjects of study. The meta-gene, and a full case of Disassociative Identity Disorder. Subjects he was keen to either debunk, or study further in their entirety.

Here she was, right on schedule. He stood as the guard brought her in and offered a smile. The girl shuffled into the seat in front of his desk without having to be asked or pausing to examine the specifics of the well-lit office.

"It's so nice to meet you, Jennifer. I'm Dr. Hugo Strange, I hope they've been treating you well?" his voice was low, something gravelly in the undercurrents. Not quite unpleasant enough to be called a rasp, but distinctive. She shrugged her shoulders, and he nodded to the guard to wait outside.

"Would you like some tea?" His offer was immediately ignored.

"Why am I here?" He regarded the sullen new comer over his glasses, calmly returning a question,

"You don't remember?"

"The last thing I remember I was in New Mexico. No clue how long ago that was. Now I'm here." the girl's eye followed movement as his hands busied themselves quickly scribbling notes.

"Interesting. Is this normal for you?" Pale eyes beneath thick ginger hair narrowed at him.

"You could say that..." a heavy huff did little to persuade the wavy locks away from her mouth.

"And for how long have you had these lapses in memory? Waking up somewhere new with no recollection of how you've gotten there?"

"...As long as ever, probably." she shrugged and fell back further into her chair before adding in a tone that implied she was losing patience, "So. Why am I here this time?"

"This time?" now she outright rolled her eyes at the man.

"Yes yes, I've been in these places before. It's not the first time. Now answer the question."

"Well, that question has different possible answers. But mostly, you're here so that we can help-"

"Cut the crap. What did I do this time?" Not keen on small talk, it would appear. He sighed and obliged,

"Why, you killed a man. At least that's what they say. The police were called, and when you were arrested you were incoherent. Couldn't speak, had to be restrained." he watched her face for a change, and saw none. No expression of shock or repulsion. If anything she looked tired. The sigh that leaked out of her reflected the same.

"He was probably harassing me. Whatever. Not like you can turn back the clock."

"You're not the least bit concerned, that you've taken a life? You feel no remorse-"

"I prefer to run, not fight. So no. Not sorry when someone earns it. If you'll notice, the world keeps spinning."

"Is that what you would tell his family? The world keeps spinning?"

"It's not my problem if they're too weak to move forward after a loss."

"That does seem rather harsh-" a sharp smile cut across her face with a honey sweet pitch shift in voice,

"The world is harsh." Her face dropped as quickly as it had picked up. He withdrew from his file a picture, glossy white back attracting her attention.

"I have here a picture of him. Do you think seeing it might trigger something? Would you like to look at it and see?" uncertainty flicked over her face as she eyed the item, but then she shrugged and reached forward for it. The guy in the picture looked ordinary enough. Square jaw, vibrant green eyes, light brown stubble. She squinted at it, rotated the thing this way and that.

"I feel annoyed looking at this. And nothing else." she handed the picture back, and he held up another for her.

"How about this one?" she took it, and this time her eyes widened quickly, tossing the thing away from herself as if it were an insect which had bitten her. It was the aftermath. Chunks of him missing, it looked more like an animal attack than something a human could have done. She had curled back up into the chair, hugged her knees to her chest and begun to shiver. Instead of expressing concern for her current state, Hugo stood and walked around the desk to pick up the picture in question. He returned to his desk, and stippled his fingers to stare over at her.

"You don't remember anything? I'll admit I'm looking forward to solving this little mystery." she glanced up over her knees.

"I wouldn't bother, if I were you. It's pointless. Some things are best left forgotten." she began to unfold, calm returning. A twitch shivered across her flesh and limbs, hands gripped the wooden arms of the chair with claw-like poise. He continue speaking in his calm even way. 

"It's not uncommon to suffer memory loss from a trauma. I can't imagine it would be easy to-" she laughed at him, the sound sharp and jumped off the walls. When she spoke again it was thick with a condescending tone and low in her throat,

"Oooooh doctor, you cannot even begin to imagine what I can and can't handle." the grin was a challenge, her mannerisms reflecting a womanly poise she had been lacking moments before. Yet he wasn't thrown for any loop by the shift.

"And who am I speaking to now?" his smile expressed he would rise to meet the challenge, and the statement earned surprise on her face.

"Oh. Look how smart you are indeed. Is that my file there?"

"It is. I'll take it you're not the one who was present for this?" he tapped the picture, and she leaned back in her chair to regard him down her nose.

"No. That is not my handiwork. I didn't get a name for you."

"Nor I one for you."

"You may call me Maggie." she pronounced the g's as j's.

"And you, may call me Doctor Hugo Strange." So the file was right. About that, at least. He flipped through the information they had on her until he could pull out the tabbed sections.

"Jenny. Maggie. Dreamer. We have files on all three of you. From what little we understand so far, only you are aware of the others, Maggie. Is that...Dreamer I was speaking with just now?" Jenny was noted to be meek, jumpy, anxious and reserved. Dreamer had...mixed reviews varying by individual treatment.

"No."

"Jenny?"

"No."

"Then it would appear your file is far from complete. According to prior treatments documented you claim to be...for lack of a better word, a witch?" Maggie smirked, rapped her nails on the wooden arms of the chair she sat in.

"Not on these medications. Would you like to take me off them and find out?" He would, actually. But she didn't need to know that. A spark of mischievous intellect shimmered in her eyes though, as if she could tell the bait had already tempted him.

"I'd like to start by stating that I'll be providing care to and for all of you equally." The smile slid off her lips into a deep displeased frown.

"Riveting. Good luck with that, doctor. We're never in one place for long." He watched her sit back in the chair, and the glimmer of life flickered out. What was left in her place was a shell with a blank forward stare. He wasn't certain if that was the sedatives in her daily medication, or a stubbornness from Maggie. After several minutes of unanswered questions it became clear their session was over.