Chapter 260 : Doctor Dent (Patreon)

There were many things about being a parent that James hadn't fully understood or appreciated until he had found himself with children of his own. Even if he was lucky enough to skip the baby phase, jumping straight into very smart toddlers who grew more intelligent and eloquent far faster than any human babe could, the experience had still gotten him to respect his own family far more for the way they handled him in his childhood.

The latest event in this ever-growing list of reasons to congratulate parents doing their best was the current visit to the doctor.

They weren't causing problems. Truthfully, they were on their best behavior, happily waiting in silence before it was their turn and now cooperating with the medical professional at every step. They were being the perfect patients, in his humble opinion. The worst offenders were possibly Lucille, whose attachment to professionalism had her be a bit awkward when asked to do 'silly things', and David's slight grumbling as he grew annoyed at how long the visit was growing to be, but that was it. Which reminded James he needed to do something nice for his youngest - he had really done wonders to keep his bad temper in check lately, with no outbursts to speak of.

No, the biggest problem was James himself. Or rather, his anxiety.

He couldn't help it, he was stressed. Yes, the ratlings had been checked over when they got their citizenships and were officially registered as his adopted kids, but that had been some time ago, and mostly to check their overall health and sapience. Any more specific issue or the like might have been missed or ignored, and even without that, their mutant lab rat DNA, the very reason they developed so fast and so anomalously before they even awakened their cores, could start going haywire at any moment. Or maybe not, but how could he know? He wasn't a doctor!

To make matters worse, he'd gotten a report from Loedycan that there had been some trouble in the slums when he was surveying the area that a local slumlord had surrendered to them. Nothing the wolf couldn't handle, supposedly, and he'd already gotten a second report through the Infused network that the matter was over, but the whole mess was still a reminder to James that he could never drop his guard, even when doing a regular parent activity.

He had taken care to choose a doctor who would fit their needs. Doctor Dent was a rat man himself, after all. Well, it wasn't the perfect bridge. James' children were regular - if mutated - rats who had then blossomed into sapients, whereas the good doctor was from a race of humanoid rodents closer to humans than their animal counterparts. It wasn't a one-to-one, but it was close enough for James to feel better by going to see him than the average human. 

Said humanoid rat smiled as he watched the kids play around with some of the toys in his office, his dark grey fur filled with silver strands, some grown long enough to ever form a goatee and thick eyebrows. Combined with his cartoonishly large round glasses, the tall doctor seemed more like a character out of a fable than a real person at times. Then again, so did James when he wanted to, so he could hardly start criticizing others for their looks. Besides, he had to admit, it was a good look on Dent. The kids had taken a liking to him right away, feeling like a kind grandpa. Their real grandpa wasn't the friendliest sort, after all.

Polisson meant well, and he did care for his family, but he was more concerned with Mischief and the rats he'd led for years than the youngsters born from parents who'd struck it out on their own and gotten killed. He still tried to talk with the kids from time to time when he wasn't busy with his duties, but he knew he wasn't really part of the family in their eyes. Maybe James should take the time to try to fix that at some point? He would add it to his infinitely expanding to-do list.

"Well, Mr. Valdest, I am pleased to see your children are in perfect health. Or at least, it seems to be the case. I took a few samples I'd like to analyze, if you'd allow me, to keep an eye on that mutant strain you mentioned, but I don't think there's anything to fear - outside of maybe your budget, to adapt to their growing bodies, aha. I do seriously recommend increasing their food portions to make sure they get enough to fuel their growth without their bodies feeling the need to self-cannibalize."

"Thank you, Dr. Dent. And of course, you can study these samples. I want to be sure of everything."

"Except for their Aspects, it seems."

James chuckled, making a show of turning his head to look at his kids as they continued to mess around. They may be little geniuses and have dreams of becoming Heroes, but they were still children, and messing around with wooden balls on metal poles was still fun. To be fair, James figured it'd be a fun fidget game for even adults if they didn't feel ashamed of being seen messing with that kind of toy.

"They want to become Heroes, you know. I figure they'd want to keep their powers secret. A group of five rats is already a big tell."

This time, it was Dent's turn to chuckle, his pink hands entrelacing their fingers as he followed James' gaze.

"I see what you mean. I'd still like to check their Aspects. Anything I learn will stay confidential, unless it is related to one of the surveilled Aspects. And even if there are five of them, I doubt we'll see any of those three pop up. They're quite rare."

Seeing James squirming in his seat, the old rat sighed as he removed his glasses, opening a drawer to retrieve a cloth to start cleaning them as he continued to talk.

"I understand your worries. I do. I had the same for my children, and they did for their own. We are all afraid of finding out that maybe one of our little ones is a ticking time bomb or a living target for the unscrupulous sort. But I insist that it is your duty as a parent, and mine as a doctor, to know these things, to help prepare these children. If they have special needs, they need the right support. Already, we know that young Lucille has sharp metallic fur. She cannot hide it. If we knew exactly how it worked, then maybe we could prepare something so that it would be softer at rest. Otherwise, how long until it's too dangerous for others for her to walk out in public? Until someone loses an eye because the bus jostled a little too much?"

"I... I know. I just... I'm still worried."

"Yes, that is... Something I'd like to discuss as well, Mr. Valdest."

"Pardon?"

"Your anxiety. I couldn't help but notice the many signs. I am no expert on mental health, but I can still tell you are mentally unwell, Mr. Valdest. I took the time to review your children's file for this visit, and I couldn't help but notice the information concerning you. If I understand correctly, you are new to this city, yes?"

"I... I suppose I was, when I came across them. But I've been here for a few months now. Over half a year, at least. I'll be honest, I wasn't keeping a close eye on the calendar in those early days."

"I see. Mr. Valdest, pardon me if I am being too forward, but were you born in this form, or is it the result of a Core Awakening, regular or Chaotic?"

"I do not like this line of questioning, Dr. Dent."

"Allow me to rephrase, then. It is not my intent to trouble you, after all. Mr. Valdest, were you born in this form, or not? And if you refuse to answer that question, then here's a simpler one. Do you suffer from body dysmorphia? And is your current form capable of eating or drinking?"

"..."

"I am not asking to police you, Mr. Valdest. I am asking you because you seem unwell, and I'd like to know how to help. I don't need to know the exact details of how you ended up like this or in my office, but I do need to narrow down the possible causes for your unrest. And I'd like to know if medication is at all possible."

James sighed and leaned back in his seat, taking a moment to study his little ones. They were still messing around with the toys, but he could tell they were only half paying attention, far more focused on his conversation with the doctor than on play. He had come here for their sake, to make sure they'd have the best lives possible, and if that meant dwelling a little on his own, then... He supposed that was a fine sacrifice. Even if he'd had to be careful about what he could and couldn't say.

"This... Isn't my original form. And no, I can't eat. No digestive system. I can put stuff into my mouth, but then it just stays here or in my 'stomach,' and I have to force it out later. No breathing either, I'm just doing it out of habit. From what I figured out with my last doctor, I'm closer to a slime or an elemental than a flesh-and-bone body."

"Thank you for your honesty. So, medication is out of the question. I've heard of some items that can supposedly be applied directly to the soul, but those are too rare to be found anywhere near Zalcien. And from your reaction, I am expecting at least some dysmorphia, even if you're hesitant or unwilling to say it. I'd like you to schedule another appointment with me as soon as you can, so that we may talk about this, just the two of us. It will also give me some time to look into some possible solutions, therapists that may be suited to the situation. The discreet sort, I promise."

James shifted in his seat some more, still unsure about talking about his feelings and problems to someone. Not out of some stupid masculine sense of pride or anything of the sort, no, but because that would involve sharing things about Silhouette, and that would be a blatant vulnerability. Silhouette's business may be a source of stress, but it was what offered him and his family safety, and crossing those lives would only spell trouble. It was why he built up the story of being Silhouette's assistant, after all. A way for his two personas to pass by each other without getting too close. To justify similarities and shared knowledge without risking a privacy breach.

"I... Thanks to my work, I have access to magical contracts. The binding sort. Would it be possible to find someone willing to sign one of those? For my ease of mind?"

"Not trusting doctor-patient privacy, are you?"

"I stopped visiting my last doctor for a reason. If she hadn't signed one of those contracts, she'd have shared some very personal and sensitive information. I know it."

"Is that a fact, or a fear?"

"A fact. I was there with a friend, and he agreed with me. A meat and bone friend, by the way. I don't have hallucinations."

"Good to know. I'll look and ask around, but that sort of magically binding deal isn't very popular. For good reason, if you ask me. I understand companies and the like employing them at times, but when there are already supposed to be laws to cover what you want this contract to do? Some may feel it would only fuel your paranoia."

"Is it really paranoia if they're really out to get you, Doctor? Because this city has shown me time and time again that they were."

"Being afraid is natural. Leaning on your fear to make the right choices and avoid troublesome situations is logical, it is the biological purpose of fear to avoid danger. The problem arises when you are constantly living in fear and letting that drive your life. You are more than just what you are scared of, Mr. Valdest. Even if it seems hard to see. If trouble really does have a way of knocking at your door more often than it does to others', then a healthy amount of fear and worry is to be expected, yes. But not to the degree I believe you are undergoing."

"It's easy to say, Doctor. You're not the one handling the trouble."

"You're right, I'm not. I can help lighten the load with what you're willing to share, but I can't snap my fingers and solve all of your problems, no matter how much I wish I could. But as I already mentioned, mental health is not my expertise. I leave that to my colleagues. Still, if you'd be willing, I'd like for us to talk more about your form during your next visit, if you'd indulge me. You were worried about your children's mutation, so I'm willing to bet you're worried about your own, but your fear holds you back. Your love for your children may be strong enough to overcome your tendencies when it comes to them, but the same isn't true for yourself."

"I have yet to agree to this second appointment, Dr. Dent."

"But you haven't stormed out of my office yet. I take that as a good sign."