shatterverse | (no subject)

In Metropolis....

Eden McCain has a table to herself at a coffee shop - notebook papers are spread over it with titles like 'Main Character' and 'Subplot 1'. The great post-apocalyptic novel isn't going to get written any other way! She felt like dressing like a cliche artist - and is wearing a navy blue beret.

Tom Therin is whistling cheerfully to himself as he walks down the street, idly looking for pockets to pick.

On the Cooper farm....

Bridgette Dubois has a stuffed pony, a lion, and a unicorn in a semi-circle on the lawn to the Cooper house. "Whoever wants me to sing Lion King at the talent show, say aye!"

The stuffed animals are silent, but Bridgette - after checking on Marie, who claps her hands in agreement an area to her left - nods as if they actually spoke. "All right - how about Sound of Music?"

Oliver Wycliffe, dressed in white and looking thoughtful, is riding his stallion Beauregard down the road to the farm.

Dana, an extremely tired-looking young woman in ratty jeans and a T-shirt, is waiting nervously in front of the hospital, gnawing on her lip.

[ooc: Tag one, tag all, but please let me know which one you're tagging!]

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Dana blinks a few times. Why does he need this explained?

Her voice is a confused mumble. "I need to sleep? I don't, without it?"

...

He stops, turns around, and squints at her for a moment.

"Damn."

It's somewhere between surprise, realization, and-- interest?

Hell, this is House, what do you expect?

The doctor leans over the counter, fishes around, and fills a bottle, tossing it back to her without looking up.

"Here you go. Triazolam. That should do you for a week. Now," and here he spins around and sits on the pharmacy counter, laying his cane across his knees and leaning forward, "when you say you don't sleep without pharmaceutical aid, is that an exaggeration?" Looking at the girl, he doesn't think so.

Dana was one of the more useless experiments - House's interest surprises her, though expressions don't rest too well on her dull, lusterless face right now.

Dana hesitates. He's not from the Facility...but none of the doctors ever told her what to do if she were outside the Facility. So she decides to say the truth.

"No, it's not. My regenerative capabilities allow for optimum function at all times - provided I sleep every few days. It..." she drifts off awkwardly, not sure how to get into sleep-deprivation induced hallucinations, withdrawal symptoms, and all the other things she's had to cope with.

"That," he says very definitely, "sucks. All right, let's hear it. Medical history, kid." Well, she acts young, anyways. "What hypnotic drugs have you been on for this? How long's it been happening? You must've seen a doctor for it or you'd be long dead-- tell me he came up with a better plan of attack than 'hit it with benzodiazepines until it stops moving'. I could outthink that strategy in my, ha, sleep. For one thing, your tolerance must be astronomical by now."

Dana's spine stiffens and she looks more attentive as she gives her report.

"I am eighteen years of age, a hundred and fifty pounds, with no history of illness of health concerns other than the obvious sleep-related difficulties. It's happened ever since I was created. During infancy and childhood I was given half a pill of diazepam whenever I needed to sleep. As my tolerance increased I was given larger doses. At age eleven I was on 5 mgs of clonazepam. There was a trial with flurazepam when I was sixteen, but the long half-life of the drug lead to decreased function the next day and mild ataxia, which was incompatible with my mission objectives.

"My tolerance levels are an on-going concern," she adds, not quite as mechanically as she said the rest - a faint frown creases her mouth.

Snort.

"Your tolerance levels are an ongoing concern because your doctors are idiots. Did they ever try anything other than benzodiazepines? No? Great." House rolls his eyes. "Welcome to my hospital, kid. See that hallway?" He picks up his cane and points. "Pick a room. You'll sleep there. Record how much triazolam you take, when you take it, and what time you wake up the next morning. I'm going to come up with something new to try when the hypnotic stops working."

He rubs his chin contemplatively. Insomnia cures, insomnia cures... somehow he doubts CBT will do squat for the kid... dammit, he needs a team.

Dana blinks. Facility loyalty forces the words out of her mouth before she realizes that she's arguing with a doctor.

"Um. The doctors were experts in their fields? The Facility wouldn't have hired them otherwise?"

"Yeah, right."

He shakes his head.

"Anybody try any nonbenzodiazepines on you? Zolpidem or zopiclone sound familiar? How about melatonin? Tryptophan? Off-label antidepressants or atypical antipsychotics? Like I said, idiots."

"N-no. But I'm not the first model? An assortment of drugs were tried on my--" friend "-- on the first model and...um, didn't work as well? He was--" Dana drags her fingers through her hair, frowning more heavily.

He forgot who I was.

"-- I don't know his medical history or what drugs he was given? But I was given benzodiazepines for a reason?"

"Okay, that tells me not to go for anything sketchy. I'm betting they got an adverse reaction on one of the drugs with nastier side effects and ran back to hide in good old diazepam's skirts. Well, that doesn't rule out melatonin and tryptophan, or the nonbenzodiazepines zolpidem and zopiclone-- in fact, I'm pretty sure you'll like those. They have much cleaner side effect profiles than the benzodiazepines."

"That...um. Sounds good?"

Dana gives a vague, tired nod. Hey, he's the doctor, she just takes the pills.

"Great. Remember, record your awakening times every day. I need something to go on."

He hops carefully to the floor and limps off down the other hallway. Interview over, apparently. For now.