It was all there, everything that confirmed Harris's suspicions. Dr. Roslin had, in fact, not gotten his blood tested. The report resembled what seemed like a psychiatric report.
'Heavily deluded. Attributed to parent issues.'
'Misguided sense of self-importance. Narcissistic personality disorder.'
'Hypochondriac due to lack of socializing.'
His breath fumed over the words. The analysis originated back years since he had first visited her. That meant each time she had bid him goodbye it had been with a sense of condescension.
'Once more visiting to fulfill hole of emptiness, latent abandonment issues arising.'
'Placebo to be issued, fabrication of tests to be divulged to patient. No IV testing to be carried out.'
'Patient to be discouraged from visiting.'
Harris flung the file across the room. The room encapsulated in darkness, somehow felt even more so. He held his head in his hands; he had hoped to feel some sort of resolution on confronting Dr. Roslin, but that had not been the case. If anything, barging back into her office and yelling at her felt more appealing than sitting around in his apartment. But he didn't have the strength.
He sank back in his chair like an old man in the evening. But it wasn't as if he had much to do anyway, he thought. Dr. Roslin's comments whisked through his head the more he tried to block them out.
'Lack of socializing'. Well, she'd gotten that correct, but what gave her the right to judge him like that? And as for his narcissism, what was a patient supposed to do? Ask the doctor how her day was?
Still, perhaps what stung the most was the silent admission that she had a point. There wasn't any socializing as far as he was concerned. And one of the reasons he'd been gripped with grief in his final moments had been the lamentation of his lack of personal relationships.
But then he also felt as if he'd redeemed himself over that – a certain man with a large hat and another with a Mickey Mouse wristwatch would be happy to concur with him – so Dr. Roslin had no clue what her assessment was.
The glare from the outside fell on the far end of the room – the file he'd thrown, with Dr. Roslin's signature clearly emblazoned on it – Harris felt the rigor return, as he made up his mind for the next day.
The hospital looked different compared to the previous night. A perfect mirage to cover up the obscenities within, Harris thought, as he calmly walked in. The nurses peered at him nervously, no doubt expecting another scene from him. Harris ignored the stares and entered Dr. Roslin's office.
She sat – or rather lay – at her desk. Her hair completely obscured her head which was nestled between her arms. Her body heaved slightly, evidently, she was asleep. It didn't seem as if she hadn't left the office since Harris had last seen her.
The state of the room remained the same, the pile of folders hadn't been moved from the windowsill. Harris, unsure of whether to wake her up, picked up the pile and deposited them at her desk with a thud. Dr. Roslin yanked awake.
"Who...?" She murmured drowsily. "You left..."
"About 7 hours ago." He informed her. She jerked up in alarm, checking her watch to confirm, and brushed her air off as if it were a morning ritual.
"Why are you here?"
"You didn't forget what we talked about." He wasn't fooled.
"Well, the results should be here in a while." Dr. Roslin told him disdainfully, looking outside the window as though mulling between leaving or staying around with him. Harris wondered what could be so undesirable out there that she had to consider the two alternatives.
"Really dedicated to your work, I see." He commented when it seemed that she didn't intend to leave.
"Never you mind," she snapped at him from the window where she allowed the sun rays to hit her pale face. She did look overworked, her features gaunt. Although to Harris, they resembled someone defeated rather than tired. Still, his sympathies remained limited.
"I have a few patients calling in, will you be around?" It wasn't a remark, it was a question. She did still regard him as a threat.
"That's for me to decide." He imitated his best intimidating face while relaxing in his chair.
"Well, don't be intrusive. I have a job to do."
"I should hope so." Harris's eyes shifted to the plaque she had left exposed on the table, having slept with it in her hands. Immediately, Dr. Roslin hastened and picked it up. Noticing Harris's comprehension, she attempted to pass it off nonchalantly.
"This should confirm any doubts you might have." She showed her title inscribed on the plaque to him.
"I don't know, I can't really see what with the 'Doctor' part faded away." He said. "But then again, it's pretty appropriate, don't you think?"
Dr. Roslin didn't have any retort for that and silently slid the plaque into her drawer. For the next couple of hours, Harris lurked around the room, patients entered and he remained unmoving, as Dr. Roslin came up with excuses for his presence. A few times, unable to control himself, he even slandered her as she diagnosed the patients. One particularly nervous man abandoned the diagnosis and fled after hearing Harris imply Dr. Roslin's degree was fake.
"You cannot interfere with my job." She outraged. "This is a serious misdemeanor you are displaying. I can throw you into court for it."
"Misdemeanor? What about negligence or fraud or even malpractice? I think those will look better, plus you and I both will have charges against us, so we can be like court buddies." He threatened her sardonically. Dr. Roslin's facial muscles twitched despite her steely eyes resting firmly on him. He was sure she had no move up her sleeve.
"Here we are-" The nurse entered to find them in a staring contest. She held a file in her hand that Harris was certain held his fate. He broke his resolve while Dr. Roslin accepted it from the nurse.
"I'll have that." He jumped up, snatching the file away. "You can leave." He added to the perplexed nurse who looked at Dr. Roslin for an explanation; however, she simply nodded to dismiss her.
Harris's hands trembled in spite of him having been prepared for this moment. He opened the file to find a page detailing all the tests carried out. He understood barely anything other than the words stamped in large red letters. Positive.
His breath quivered as his mind processed the information. Harris took a moment. His head felt as if it had been rammed hard against a metal pole. He threw the file at the desk.
"You mind deciphering that?" His voice shook as he attempted to remain taut.
Dr. Roslin took a brief glance before her expression changed as well. She dropped the file, her hand still in midair, and her mouth opened, resembling someone pausing in the middle of a speech. She collapsed on the chair staring into space, no doubt processing the information like Harris.
The suspense, though, was torturous.
"Say it." He commanded. "I have to hear you say it."
Dr. Roslin looked at him, white as death.
"I'm... I'm sorry." She mouthed. "...I didn't think you really had..."
"Cancer?"
Dr. Roslin flushed in shock, her eyes wide. Unexpectedly, she picked herself up and began pacing the room. Harris was unsure whether to interrupt, it seemed as if she was doing some careful thinking. She turned to him.
"How did you know?"
"Does it matter?" He didn't have the fire in him now to put up an accusatory demeanor, his insides were burning up enough at the moment.
"I was so sure." She paced again, picking up the file repeatedly to confirm the diagnosis. "You haven't tampered with anything, have you?"
"I don't think I'm narcissistic enough to do that." He snapped, his anger returning.
"This can't be possible." She paced even faster. "I would've seen it."
"Maybe you were too busy with something else." He implied toward her psychiatric evaluations of him. "Parent issues, maybe?"
"I never let anyone know-" She blurted out before stopping in her tracks. "How do you know?"
And somehow she looked even more nervous since the revelation of the diagnosis. Looking heavily guarded, her expression similar to a child whose secret was about to be revealed.
"The file I took last night."
Again unexpectedly, her expression shifted. To relief this time, or so it seemed to him.
"Don't worry about that." She breathed. "I assure you it will be all right."
But it was hard to believe her considering how jaded she looked. Also, there was the fact that she had assured him once before...
"How?" He asked hungrily, things were different this time after all, so there could be a chance.
"I will- I will figure something out. Just give me some time."
"Where are you going?" He asked in surprise as he saw her grab her purse in hurry and move past him toward the door.
"I just need some time." She repeated, not meeting his eyes. He had the urge to seize her by the arm and force her to talk to him. But there was such desperation on her face that it didn't seem worth it.
"Doctor." He called behind as she made to leave. He, meanwhile, faced the window. And he was sure the emotion had spilled into his words despite trying as hard as he could to prevent that. "You will help me, won't you?"
Harris didn't turn to face her but a sharp swishing sound indicated Dr. Roslin had.
"I will." Her voice reached him. Perhaps it was simply him misinterpreting her tone but he felt she had been successful in suppressing her true emotions when she replied, calm and assuring as the door closed with a snap.
Harris wanted to believe, but it wasn't easy when he could see the one person who could help was hurrying away in the distance from the window he stood at.