maskormenace | 006 | microwaved leftovers

All right. [No insult taken; feels more like talking shop. He can appreciate Chilton presenting this as though Will can choose not to commit to whatever it may be instead of telling him to get his ass out of bed, there's a body in a hotel bathtub, he has twenty minutes.] What is it about this particular unstable patient?

He has taken an interest in me. In -- specifically, in subverting the hierarchy of our doctor-patient relationship.

I thought I could control the matter.

Edited 2015-08-24 05:56 (UTC)

[Give him a second, where he may fondly be recalling sleeping outside in July...]

Would ending your doctor-patient relationship change anything? Diminish his interest, intensify it?

Oh -- no. I cannot end this now. I have a book deal pending, Will.

Right. [Hell. There's a pang of worry near a certain spot of his gut.] Can't end it, his interest is in throwing you, and [Chilton's lost control?] he's a certain brand of unstable.

[The brand Will's familiar with. The brand they're both familiar with. Unfortunately.]

Please keep going.

[There's a layer of apology to that, and the silence following. Sorry if he jumped the gun, an invitation to talk more at length, fill in every blank Chilton thinks needs to be filled in (or is willing to fill in) before Will blurts out any more questions.]

Borderline personality disorder and suicidal ideation with a kick of paranoia and control issues.

I have yet to have anything like that directed at me.

[But Will, on the other hand? Will was like nectar to these bees. Chilton's question was implicit: how should he handle this?]

[Chilton can't see their talk but Will feels like he knows who this is. (Paranoid ... He seeks control. He's had it, once, but perhaps only briefly. Chilton had said, and Walter confesses to not wanting to live any longer. Who else could it be?) Chilton isn't asking for Will to play guessing games with names, and turning this into that won't foster the environment between them he wants, so he doesn't bring it up.

What was it Pinkman had told him? It hurts less if you don't fight it. Never an option, not to anyone from Baltimore who wanted to survive. They might have had different brands of fighting, some more inclined to run, but those who were still standing were that way for a reason. Luck and determination, however grim a drive they might have had, and one man who left them alive (or was lied to about their death).

Will frequently considers what Hannibal's reaction to situations would be...and tries to do the opposite. But when Chilton talks about someone too interested he can't cut off, with plenty of instability that's been directed, well. Chilton wasn't his only patsy, and it was Will who Hannibal had attempted to pointed at Mason Verger only for Will to slip a noose over his neck. One of poor design by comparison, Hannibal being who and what he was. Hannibal wasn't here, but perhaps a dose of the Ripper is just what the doctor ordered. Chilton's yet to experience the lonely, bloody drive to Will's house. This will probably not bite him at the ass. (Yet.)]

That's quite the cocktail. [For what callback that is, there's no bite, no sneer. As good a way as any to phrase it, a nod of acknowledgement.] If he can direct this at you...he should be able to direct it elsewhere, too, shouldn't he? Other than himself, provided he's given a proper nudge.

[He is not going to say the word patsy, even so. While ideally one might point unstable patients at soothing arts and crafts or new hobbies, Chilton isn't the ideal psychiatrist, and he knows that Will has been decidedly influenced by a much worse psychiatrist. It's possible Chilton's already attempted this method and failed, thus leading him to Will, which is fine. Probably best he didn't assume, though, so he asks and suggests anyway like this is normal conversation. Normal conversation between equals, judging by that calm, curious tone.]

I am the redirection. I am the replacement.

[An agonizing realization, and one he hadn't wanted to communicate in the open -- desperation and provocation enabled his response. But it hadn't taken Chilton long to understand: he was the second choice to Jesse Pinkman. What had happened between the two men from Albuquerque had been easy to blame upon Chilton, even if a schism wasn't his design. An accidental conquest led to dire consequences.]

I suspect he cannot be so easily persuaded to find a new target. Consider this cocktail already served.

[That verbal mirror hadn't escaped him, either.]

[That's no good. Any ideas about then direct him back to whoever you replaced dry up, that's how no good it is. That turns this to a game of human tennis, quiet time without relief because of the anxious wait for the return hit. That won't fix the problem, but make it worse. His tone holds, easier to move past any flub ups that way. Just keep swimming.]

Cannot be so easily persuaded to find a new target if more redirection came from you, or anyone? You might not be able to return this cocktail, Frederick, but you're not alone at the bar.

[Some cocktails are set on fire, but. He remembers Georgia Madchen, "Freddie Lounds." His encephalitis. That's too far, too tasteless. Will's official second opinion is apparently irrelevant, no point in arguing a book isn't worth this. So what's left? A reminder he's committed to the well-being of his own always, then, ready to get back in the saddle. Willing to play ball, willing to participate. It's all he feels he really can do, other than...well, listen.]

The subject is particular, but his choice is patterned by neither personality nor capability. His former target is naive and, frankly, outright stupid. Trusting and vulnerable. Ideal for mentoring.

[Ideal for a predatory man in the midst of an existential crisis, essentially.]

I am none of the above. In fact, my appeal seems to derive from the subject's dislike of me. If you can imagine.

Edited 2015-08-26 02:04 (UTC)

[He can't imagine that at all, no way.]

His reaction to disliking you is...to continue with a doctor-patient relationship in order to usurp you. [Okay. That sounds extreme and crazy, but okay.] Wonder what he'd do to somebody he hated. Do you know?

[What he'd do, if he actually hates anyone, how the hell Chilton can keep himself in the "dislike" instead of "hate" category, all of the above.]

Homicide. Probably. So what a relief it must be, to know this subject is well situated upon my therapeutic sedan.

[Oh god no, says everyone else.]

[As reassuring as Viserys shouting he's king at everyone, yeah. No thanks, no thank you.

Rather than address that, however, Will sees his own chance. In the same voice he's held all along to help drive the effect he's going for (the effect of taking Chilton off guard, like a TRUE friend), Will simply asks four words he's glad he didn't toss White's way now:]

Is Walter White Heisenberg?

I -- how on earth -- Walter -- who?

[Needless to say, Will's tactic proved highly effective. Chilton stuttered over a false apology and a vandalized excuse before:]

He... Walt isn't...

He is not going to suffer your continual existence if that ever gets out. Yours or mine, likely.

[He regrets Freddie isn't around to call up after, if only to have a round of drinks in celebration of something he cannot share.]

Fine by me. He isn't the only one suffering in this situation. [Getting worn out with some crazy sons of bitches over here.] If this gets out meaning he's made aware I know or...I call up Heropa PD with an anonymous tip?

[Of course he won't. But variety is the spice of life and clarity can prevent lives from being cooked in spice.]

I would advise that you do not do anything regarding Walter White. Do not think for a moment that you wouldn't be the first name on his mind, the first man under fire.

[Or the second. Walt was more likely to noose Chilton.]

Just leave him be.

Edited 2015-08-26 03:16 (UTC)

[Leave him be until there's another explosion and Will gets a call to do the legwork? Third time's the charm? Oh no, no, that's rude.]

Good! If I'm the first under fire, you aren't. Easy decision to make.

[Advice noted and thoroughly ignored. But he makes no move to hang up, waits. He had a chance and missed it, Will's giving him a second shot. Without saying it, considering the last time he had in regards to Crane had gone so poorly.]

My name is intertwined with yours.

[Spoken in a scathing hiss; there was once a time when Chilton would have jumped for the chance to grasp the coattails of Will Graham in hand. But without the influence of Hannibal Lecter, and with the stability offered through April Ludgate, Will was situated in a good place. It wasn't coattails that Chilton could grab onto now, no, what he had in his hand was an olive branch.

And wood burns because it has the proper stuff in it. Flammable stuff.]

But how did you come across his name?

Edited 2015-08-26 03:48 (UTC)

Same way as always. I interpreted the evidence.

[He isn't going to name names, even if Skye's no longer here. Perhaps it may feel like a non-answer, that's fine. Will has given non-answers and lies to protect, all to be shattered. Hannibal only offered olive branches when he had a knife or needle in his other hand. Will doesn't have either hiding. His other hand is more inclined to be running over his face in frustration. Just ten minutes' peace, good Lord.]

This isn't sustainable, Frederick. I can encourage you to point his tendencies like a gun elsewhere, even at himself. What I can't do is throw up my hands, leave it be. [And hell if Will washes his hands of Baltimore without extremes being taken.] Because you're right. Your name is intertwined with mine, and I take care of my people first and foremost.

[Abigail Hobbs. April Ludgate. Frederick Chilton. That was his current hierarchy. His actual thoughts when the news about De Chima hit the bar's television. All three wouldn't be in attendance, reason enough for Will to stay out of the fray. Had one of them been there? Different story entirely.]

What would be sustainable, Will?

[Something of a challenge, although Chilton spoke from a place of frustration rather than hostility.]

And how could you extend yourself to vanguard us all? Regardless of what modern psychiatry might imply, tongue-in-cheek, you are still human.

Then extending myself won't be an issue when he's also human.

[Human, and not Hannibal Lecter, what better "opponent" could there possibly be for Will Graham? Just as with Crane, there was no deeper connection sported between the two of them, no surrogate daughter to take him by surprise, no foundation that could be used against him. In this place where ordinary humans were granted powers, that was an advantage, too. Someone who'd had less practice with them would be easier to deal with. Give him a human with a sharp mind who Will has no fondness for, however warped or continually beat out of him, Will knows that game. It's an easy game. Easier than dealing with capes, lunatics who love fire, the biggest loser of the bible flaunting his name to grab attention...]

Isn't he?

[Chilton's challenge turned back around. Hank was human. Jesse was too, wasn't he? Surely Walter White was just the same. If Chilton's been told differently, he wants to know. If he hasn't been told differently, then that's all there is to it, isn't it? Throwing him at an unstable murderous human is just another day back in Baltimore. The fact that they're both still human is what makes this particular game of chess fair.]

My subject is challenging the boundaries of his own humanity.

[Chilton kept his tone neutral, even, calm and collected -- but he didn't need to speak with tonal hubris for the evidence to howl: my subject, he had said. Possessive to a Freudian slip.]

Although it may be conveniently argued that we are all engaged in that social experiment. Power corrupts, Will.

[Another beat follows, and the doctor reflects upon his most immediate conversation with Walt, the one so abruptly culled.]

And you know corruption intimately, don't you? Like a lover might.

[Will recalls a previous session, one wherein he asserted he was a cannibal and therefore fit to serve as an officer for Ken, and gotten something in return he didn't quite like. — You aren't. A cannibal. I know. — He'd been trying to tell him then and felt that confession go ignored. Of course, he understood where that line of thought came from. And yet. — I was never as close to him as you were.

As close, as intimate as a lover might be, or just close enough to risk being exalted to that status? He thinks he'd know if Will had been so touched, but then turns around and compares his romp with Hannibal to that?]

We did cook together.

[He lets it simmer a second, tone light. Chilton wants to talk about one of his patients challenging the boundaries of his own humanity, he can be extremely aware he's talking to his other patient who's got some issues with his humanity. A true humanitarian.]

So within a certain definition of lovers [the wrongest, most unhealthy, most incapable of understanding and giving true love definition] I could agree with that assessment, Frederick. Yes, I know corruption and power intimately.

[Except lovers in the sexual sense learned their partner's bodies. Sounds, tastes, where to touch in order to get things moving or calm. What was there for Will to learn in a relationship with corruption and power when that physical aspect was removed, if not how to play a more brutal game of chess?]

[Chilton shrugged, eyebrows raises, his mouth pulling downwards from one corner of his lips. We did cook together. That was as sensual an image of Hannibal Lecter as Chilton wanted to conceive, that was damning enough. His bluster cut into a small smirk when Will followed such perspective up with agreement.

No matter how resentful, how frustrated the obscured emotions could have been beneath the surface.]

Metaphorically, of course.

[There was no way Chilton would allow isolation from pretentious analogies, not if everyone else in his canon got to indulge.]

I am sure it served you well.

[He hadn't the notion of how right he was, and how severely he would get harmed because of Will's well served jaunt with corruption and power.]

But -- I'd rather not dwell on that devil -- [The implication was Hannibal, but the functionality was Walt. Chilton had moved the conversational topic, obscured his own emotions. Damage was done with Walt, there was little chance that the patient wouldn't have found Chilton's abruptness suspicious. But the fallout was still radioactive and Chilton would confront that nuclear option later.

In the meanwhile:]

You will be relieved to know that I have sidestepped the devil himself again. The real one, no metaphors. [Chilton knew of Will's concern through Raina.] It is astounding how people will underestimate me.

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