interrogations [Jo]

[Dr. Jarrad Murdock]

Jarrad flopped down on the sofa, opening a book and flicking listlessly through the pages. His sister had sent it to him as a present for his new job; he'd insisted he didn't want it, but in retrospect, he was glad he had it. Hopefully, things would speed up for him in a short while, once he actually got some patients. This place seemed... entertaining, at the very least. He was a little nervous about his colleagues; one of them, Dr Ivrie, was very experienced in his job. The other two, Jo and Gabe, were less experienced, but both had written papers which had been very popular in psychiatric circles, and Jarrad was feeling the competition already. He knew he could keep up, though; after all, he wouldn't have got the job if he couldn't, and besides, he was good at his job. He didn't need to keep telling himself that.

Sighing, he flicked the page of the book, then turned it over to check the cover. The Angel's Game. Really, Gwen? Really? Jarrad was generally mistrustful of anything that had 'angel' in the title, along with the words 'moon', 'twilight', 'blood', 'dark', and 'rose'. They tended to be your typical fantasy romances, a genre Jarrad was familiar with due to his sister's love of them, and as such, extremely dubious of. Pretentious, cliched, shallow, and narrow-minded, they were the kind of books that got on his nerves more than any other kind of popular entertainment. He turned the blue book over in his hands, inspecting it carefully. Well, apparently it wasn't as bad as all that; it was written by Carlos Ruiz Zafon, an author Jarrad had heard nothing but praise about. It wasn't a romance, at least, so it was probably worth a try.

telling himself not to be so narrow-minded, he opened it and set about reading the first page, a slight frown furrowing his brow. Well, it wasn't what he'd expected, anyway. Much better than that. He sat back on the sofa and crossed his legs, now giving the book his full, undivided attention. At least he could tell Gwen he'd tried it now, which would save him a bollocking from his neurotic, fussy older sister. He didn't think that he could cope with being told to find a girlfriend three times a week, as she had done the past two times they'd spoken on the phone.

[Dr. Josephine Hudson]

Jo wandered into the staff room, looking around for Gabe and Peter. Neither of them were there, good. The room was empty, and she slipped over to the kettle, flicking it on and pouring a sachet of hot chocolate into a mug whilst she waited for the water to boil. She read the instructions on the back of the packet, which were quite simple - Pour in the hot chocolate, add boiling water and milk or sugar if desired, and enjoy. Did she desire milk, boiling water or sugar? Biting her lip, she considered carefully for a minute. Well, she wanted milk, because it had casein in, which she was slightly addicted to. And sugar was nice. Obviously, she needed boiling water, so she added that, stirring the brown liquid absently while she thought about her dilemma.

After two minutes, she decided that she did desire both milk and sugar, but she wasn't going to add it. There; she was being pro-active. Or something. Carefully, she took the cup to the corner of the room, where she sat behind a chair, near the radiator. She had 'claimed' the place as her own, and there were several books tucked between the heater and the side of the armchair. Hopefully they weren't a fire hazard. As Jo sipped her hot chocolate, she began to read - the DSM-IV criteria, just in case she'd forgotten some (which she hadn't done, apparently) - quite happily, enjoying the peace and quiet. She was only on the first volume of the book, the A section, and skipped 'Aspergers Disorder' and 'Autism'. She knew those.

When the door opened and closed, she started, looking up before realizing that she was behind a chair and couldn't see. Jo stayed still for a minute, waiting, before she heard silence, which meant that the other person in the room was either dead, or staying still. Or, of course, that she'd gone death. After rubbing her fingers together by each ear (which confirmed she wasn't hearing impaired), she stood, coming up behind Jarrad quietly. He was reading, and she walked around him, sitting on the sofa opposite and watching him. She'd been present at his interview, but hadn't spoken. " You know, a side-effect of antidepressants can be suicide? " she asked, gazing at a spot a few inches left of his head. " They are harder to overdose on, which is good, but they have been proven to increase suicidal thoughts and behaviours. "

Jo paused for a minute, before adding what she could remember of his application quietly. " During my adolescence, I was diagnosed with borderline depression. After a few months on antidepressants, I recovered and resumed life as normal. " Just so he wouldn't think she was completely insane, or something.

[Dr. Jarrad Murdock]

The quiet voice disturbed him from his book, and not ungratefully, he turned to see the female headteacher - Josephine - standing behind him. He remembered that she hadn't spoken to him at all before, and he had merely put that down to shyness, but now, she was talking to him perfectly happily. Maybe she just hadn't been in a good mood that day, or something. He listened to her carefully; he knew what she was saying was true. After all, he had written his thesis on depression, experienced it himself, and done as much research as was possible without becoming obsessed. He wasn't sure why she was telling him this, until the moment she quoted his application right back to him.

Jarrad raised his eyebrows. "You remembered that word for word? Impressive. And yes, I know that. I experienced it, in a mild form." He put his book down on the table, folding the page before he closed it, and leaned back into the sofa, watching her curiously. She seemed far more interesting than Carlos Ruiz Zafon, after all, and it never hurt to get to know your employers. He tried not to stare at her; it was a habit he'd developed when he thought about people, and it tended to make them uneasy. So he kept allowing his gaze to wander, glancing at the mug of hot chocolate in her hand, back to her face, to the book on the coffee table, settling back on her eyes. Socialising wasn't his strong point. As he looked at her face, he noticed how young she seemed. He'd read somewhere that she was only in her late twenties, around five years younger than him. She must have graduated early... "How long have you been a psychiatrist? You must have graduated quite early from medical school," he commented, still looking curious. The question was bluntly phrased, but unoffensive. Unless she was extremely strange, that was. But he doubted that, since she was a fully qualified psychiatrist.

[Dr. Josephine Hudson]

Jo nodded. Of course she'd remembered it word for word. She remembered everything word for word. If she wanted to, she could recite the newspaper articles she'd read when she was twelve and started reading the paper. It was usually helpful, especially as she never forgot a face. She stared at Jarrad, frowning at his answer. "You've experienced suicide?" Oh. It took a moment for it to click. "Or just suicidal thoughts and behaviours?" Probably the last, because he'd be dead if he'd experienced suicide. Unless, of course, he'd been resuscitated... Not if he'd cut his wrists. Jo realized how macabre her thoughts were, and stopped them short. It was creepy, working out how her co-worker had attempted suicide when he was a teenager.

"I've been a qualified psychiatrist for three years. I missed several years of high school... None at medical school." She would have, had it all been theory (it would have just taken a month to read all the textbooks, and then she would have passed all her exams) but she had to do things in practise as well, like learning CPR, which had freaked her out. If she ever died, she was not giving Gabe permission to resuscitate her. So much physical contact would just freak her out.

Taking another sip of her hot chocolate, she looked at the book, not recognising the title. It was one that she'd read...not that she read many books about angels, or games. "What's that about? It looks..." She considered. "It looks crap. Um, no offense if you like it." Whoops. She hadn't meant to upset him... She drank some more chocolate, wondering if she should apologize. No. He might think she was weird, and she hated that.

[Dr. Jarrad Murdock]

Jarrad shrugged, smiling at her. People tended to freak out when he stared at them for a long time, and he had no reason to believe that this woman would be any different. "I attempted to kill myself three days after my seventeenth birthday. Overdosed on sleeping pills, but my father came in an stopped me at the last minute. Lucky for me," he admitted, staring out of the window as the memory came back. "I was furious with him, though. About as ungrateful as it's possible to get. And kind of relieved, as well," he told her, still staring absently out of the window. It wasn't usual for him to open up to people like that; nearly unheard of, in fact. But he somehow thought that this woman wouldn't do anything with the information anyway.

Pulling his gaze back to her face, he listened to her, nodding, impressed. "Photographic memory?" he asked, a smile quirking the corner of his mouth. He'd never met anyone with a photographic memory before. His was good, but not perfect, and it was something he'd often wished he had. It would be so useful. Resting his elbow on the seat of the sofa, he fisted his hand and rested his temple on it, still watching her intently. "I've been qualified-" he did a quick head count. "also three years, actually," glancing down at the book with a slight chuckle, he added, "It's not all that bad. Not to my taste, but it's better than I expected."

He wondered what kind of literature Jo read, tried to guess, but didn't come up with anything. Maybe he should ask her, but... no, that was conversation for another time. Right now, they were discussing his depression and attempted suicide, apparently. Not ideal for a first conversation, but then again, this was a psychiatric ward, so it was fitting.

[Dr. Josephine Hudson]

How...stereotypical. In the nicest way, of course. "'Teens tend to try suicide most often in the two weeks following their birthdays. One study reported the likelihood of suicide in this period was three times more than expected.'" She smiled. "From 'Please Listen To Me!' by Marion Crook." It was a good book; why teenagers attempted suicide. Well written. Jo had read that seven years ago, just after the updated version had come out. Biting her lip, she wondered whether that was the right thing to say. It wasn't very...empathic. But what was one supposed to say in a situation like that? She couldn't very well say me too!

"That must have been...scary?" she attempted. "Had a close member of your family die from a suicide attempt as well?" Commonly, a teenager that had someone close -maybe a friend, not always family- kill themselves, they believed it was their only escape, or an acceptable choice. It was quite interesting, really. "Yes," she answered in response to Jarrad's question about having a photographic memory. "Eidetic. Quite useful at times..."

The two had taken their exams at the same time, then. "What did you do your thesis on?" Showing interest, asking personal questions... She was doing well. "Mine was on selective mutism, specifically, with children." It had been hard; seven in a thousand children was the estimated statistic. Finding candidates for her study had taken a while. It was strange, she thought, how there were three mutes at St. Dympha's. More that she'd ever expected... Maybe one. Of course, Kitty had left, which left her with Francesca and the new student, who was yet to arrive - Lorelei, Jo remembered (of course).

With another look at the book -which really did look dull- she nodded, playing with the handle of the half-empty cup. Why was he reading something if it wasn't to his taste, which meant he didn't like it? People could do stupid things... Maybe he was trying that empathy thing; seeing what the people in the book felt about things. He was probably good at it; most neurotypicals were - although he had attempted suicide, making him not technically neurotypical. Well, he'd fit in well with the student base here. What patients did he have? No suicidal ones. Morpheus, Jessica, River, Chanterelle, Alex, and the new, slightly scary boy - Scott. "How are you getting along with your patients?" she inquired.

The only one she knew about, so far, was Morph and Jarrad, which had made her laugh as she read the therapy notes. STD testing? Jo knew there was no way she could have convinced Morph to ever do it, irritating as the fact was. The memory of the rest of the notes -his mention that she was pathetic- made her wince. Maybe photographic memories weren't that great, after all. She resisted the urge to enquire about it, instead taking a sip of hot chocolate. It wasn't like she cared, anyway.