She could feel a steady stream of warm tears falling, as she turned her head on the pillow of the hard hospital bed. There were no painful sobs or other strong emotional responses from her body, just the steady and quiet fall of tears that matched her severe apathy and depression. She was beyond counting tiles, beyond absorption of hospital television, beyond mustering effort to make small talk with the nurses. Such efforts would imply a schedule to her life, a succession of steps that would take her from this hospital bed to her desired location in life.
There was none of that.
Caroline Forbes had admitted defeat somewhere between that fateful work day and her diagnosis. The life that she had carved out for herself and which she had so neatly compartmentalised, had fallen like a line of dominos. The structures of support in the life she had made, had proven to be all for show. Her 'best' friends and 'work' family had not been there for her in any meaningful way, sending flowers and a card that she knew had been signed by her personal assistant to give the impression of varied signatures.
The apathy was a relief in some respects. It numbed her mind and stopped her from obsessing over such minor things that could have festered in her thoughts for days afterwards. It also stopped her from thinking about the consequences of her lifestyle and what it had done to her body.
As she continued to stare at the ceiling, she was dimly aware of the door opening and of several shuffling footsteps approaching her bed. Roughened and calloused fingers gently caressed her fingers and with a lethargic turn of her neck she saw her father gently smiling down at her. Gingerly picking up her hand, he held her cerulean gaze that so matched his own.
The gentleness and warmth of his embrace crept slowly into her apathy, softly shining in her depressed state. It felt good, the gentle touch and she purposefully blinked and cleared her vision. She beheld her father and was surprised that she was happy to see him. She was surprised that she was surprised. Shifting her gaze, she saw her mother standing nervously in the lee of her father's shadow, the smallest of small smiles tentatively lifting up one side of her lined mouth. Caroline considered her and knew what it had taken for them to leave their home and come here. She returned the gesture in kind and shifted her gaze back to her father who moved to stroke her limp hair away from her pale forehead.
'I think it's time for you to come back home Caroline,' he said in that rich voice which always sounded indulgent and calming to her. He glanced back to his wife who still stood back from them, awkwardly unsure of her welcome. 'I, well we, want you to come home Caroline...we love you sweetie, we just...well you have a home with us if you want it honey,' he said gently.