Trigger warning: mental disorders, mental disease, treatment of psychological patients

No, seriously, if you've got a problem with that, then turn around right now. It's not of the caliber of WWII psychological experiments, or even the famous mistreatment of mental patients in the mid 1900's, but it could bother some people.

Anyways, on with the story, and I'll leave the long version of the author's note at the bottom! As always, Hussie owns everything Homestuck.

A young girl sat on the floor of a sanitary white room, defacing the pristine walls with multicolored markers. Today, however, or at least currently, her color of choice was a bright green. So she was his Jade, today. The wall clock chimed, informing everyone that it was noontime. Jade turned, slightly, her raven tresses framing her face, and her verdant eyes shining brightly: perhaps too brightly. She didn't quite seem to notice the clock, however, and went back to her writing.

Her room was a touch messy, at the moment. A white, stuffed toy dog lay on the floor – she called him 'Becquerel'. His girl always did have a penchant for physics. There was also the clown doll he had gotten her on one of his many adventures, which she had named 'Lil Cal, sitting on the desk against the wall. A pair of aviator shades that she had wanted dreadfully lay beside the clown. She had not worn them often, as she had to trade her prescription lenses for them, but she had said it made her feel like a movie star wearing them. Near the desk sat a chest of her belongings. The doctor had wanted her to have some familiar things while she stayed there.

Looking at his granddaughter, he could not help but remember the accident that had gotten Jade in this predicament. She was a bright, lovely girl, but since he had taken up raising her, she had suffered from narcolepsy. She grew up as a normal girl, her narcolepsy not causing her many problems, but as an added precaution, he had installed transportalizers on every floor, reducing the risk of her falling asleep on the stairs. He had instructed her to use the transportalizers whenever she was moving about the house, but a grandfather's concern for his granddaughter's safety can only go so far. The day of her eleventh birthday, she had fallen asleep putting up decorations at the top of a stairway, and fallen. She had been in a coma for weeks, but when she awoke, her grandfather was so overjoyed to have her back, he did not notice right away that something was different. It took one of her narcoleptic episodes to reveal just how deeply that fall had harmed her.

"…like a broken mirror. There seem to be four main facets to her personality, and they were separated by her head trauma. Rather than being pieced back together, each shard of her personality repaired itself with fabricated personality traits, creating four separate personalities, each containing one piece that was part of the original personality…"

"Mr. Harley?"

The doctor addressing him directly brought the man back from his waking nightmare. He nodded to acknowledge the doctor, but continued watching his granddaughter, his heart constricting in his chest. She should be sitting in the grass, enjoying the cool breeze, or playing one of her instruments, not sitting in here!

"Like I was saying, her alters are aware of each other, but not aware that they inhabit the same body. They each seem to believe that the other personalities are friends of theirs that they met on an online chat client called Pesterchum," the psychiatrist continued, seeming altogether too excited for Harley's liking. That was his granddaughter the man was talking about, not some psychological experiment!

"It seems as though Jade's narcoleptic episodes trigger the change between alters, and each alter suffers a delusion in which he or she is only aware of items in the room that they associate themselves with. For example, the stuffed dog only seems to hold meaning to Jade. Her other alters do not acknowledge it in any way," the doctor explained. Harley felt a tear trace a path down his cheek as he remembered the fair in France he had won the toy at. Jade had been thrilled. What an adventure that trip had been! Now… Now, Jade's adventures seemed only to take place in her mind.

"Very rarely do the alters, or Jade, discover the existence of each other. Sometimes, interactions with particular items associated with the other alters will trigger a breakdown that ends in a narcoleptic episode. It would seem that the alters becoming aware of each other is a harrowing experience that Jade's mind is unable to cope with right now, much in the same way that she has rebuilt her memories of her life from before her accident." Harley nodded at this comment. It made sense that, in order to sustain her illusion, there would need to be a reasonable enough back story for it to continue.

The older man turned to look at the psychiatrist, finally. 'Dr. J. Noir, M. D.' read his name tag against the clinical white of his lab coat. He still sounded entirely too interested in Jade's condition to imply any sort of concern for her welfare. The thought of his granddaughter being observed by this man caused angry bile to rise up in Harley's throat. With great effort, he calmed himself and choked down his ire in order to ask a question of the specialist: "Will she – will she ever be the lass she was before her accident?"

The question brought a somber expression to Noir's face. Finally, the gravity of the situation had struck the scoundrel! "I do not have enough data to draw many conclusions, but I do know this: her current reality is solid, without many cracks. What cracks do exist cause a mental breakdown that reverts her back to a sort of starting point with a different alter, almost like a record skipping. Any attempts to alter her reality have resulted in similar breakdowns. She may never knit together the facets of her personality," Noir told him, wearing his detached, professional mask.

She may never knit together the facets of her personality… The sentence echoed throughout Harley's mind repeatedly, and he felt his hopes slipping between his fingers like grains of sand. Harley was a man of action and adventure – he did not entirely understand all this mental disorder mumbo jumbo, and normally would not have taken Noir's words at face value. However, a glance at his granddaughter writing on the walls and giggling to herself, apparently in her own world, confirmed Noir's prognosis. She was not the Jade Harley he knew and loved – in fact, she was more than his Jade – and she might never be again.

Harley nodded dumbly at the doctor's suggestion that she stay a while, for further observation, and vaguely registered Noir saying that they would work on a plan to get her home. All this time that she had been here, he had been hoping for an answer, anything that he could do to get his little girl back. And now… And now, it seemed like there was nothing he could do. He spared one last look at his darling, beautiful Jade, and left the observation room, the vice of despair crushing his heart.

So I hope you enjoyed this! I was...well, I was really depressed when this idea hit me. Or rather, it made me rather depressed. I liked the idea in a morbid, masochistic way, and so that's why I've gotten this particular chapter out so quickly. This was the idea that I wanted to write, and while it was hard for me to work up to it, I wanted to set it up properly, to really have the full effect that it had on me. I dunno what it is with me and tragic stories, but they tend to inspire me to write more so than stories with happy endings. So I'm sorry about the feelings, and I want to thank everyone who's been along for the ride, and any new readers as they come along! It's been a trip.


Edit: I forgot to mention that I DID, in fact, do some research on dissociative identity disorder (DID) as well as some other comorbid mental disorders. I tried to use as much of that information as possible, to make this as realistic as possible, but I definitely used some artistic license, particularly with the treatment method. By which I mean, I have no idea if that's how a professional would treat a person with DID and delusions like Noir did Jade in this story. I just wanted to make that clear. Thanks again, to everyone who has stopped by!