XXX
Sitting behind a huge desk, ensconced in a chair that was throne-like and imperious, "So, Ten, Nurse Fisher said you may have remembered something."
"I cannot recall what it was," shrugging a shoulder, hands folded over his stomach as he lay prone on the too hard leather couch. "It slipped through my fingers before I could explain anything I saw."
Which wasn't entirely true. Caspian thought he may remember something, but he wasn't sure what. More like a set of impressions that were clearer than they had been before. He knew he didn't belong here, that creeping sensation that had nagged at him all his remembered time in the hospital had become worse since the electroshock. Unable to discuss this feeling with Dr. Anderson, Caspian bottled it up, because he knew what the doctor's thoughts would be on that. Lobotomy wasn't an enticing option, and Dr. Carter had already voiced his opinion that that was the best way to cope with Caspian, and he didn't want another person to advocate that at all. From the stories he had heard, Caspian decided having part of his brain removed wasn't desirable in anyway shape or form. So he kept his more 'deviant' or 'rebellious' thoughts to himself for fear of some drastic operation being committed.
"You prefer to go by 'Ten', let's talk about that then, hmm?"
Dr. Anderson used this tone, this manner that he was just accommodating whatever Caspian wanted so that he could help him. Caspian couldn't stand it, but didn't complain about for the obvious reasons.
Correcting him, "It is not a preference. That is just what people call me. I do not know why they call me this more than they call me by my given name. You people seem rather fond of what were they called?" searching for the word, "Ah yes, 'nicknames'. The fondness for 'Ten' is something external, something pushed on me. Personally I do not care one way or another."
"When you say 'you people', you make it sound like you're an outsider," Caspian didn't have to look to see Dr. Anderson steeple his fingers in front of his face. "Do you feel as though you're an outsider Caspian? Do you feel like others push you to do things, say things that are against your will?"
Well yes, he did. He shouldn't have to edit everything he thought so he could conform to some predetermined mould that the English thought was appropriate. Caspian had the distinct feeling that in other places in this world – say Spain for instance – wouldn't force him to fit into the same 'typical' and 'proper' mould that the English used. They had their own ideas of what was 'normal' there, just as people in other places had their own ideas. Unfortunately no one could agree across the board what was 'normal' because what was normal for one place, wasn't for another. The same thing applied to gender and classes. At least, that's what Caspian thought made more sense.
"I am told that I am a Spaniard," tailoring his words, making them fit for Dr. Anderson and his limited view of 'normal', "so by definition, I am an outsider here in England."
"They are no different than us," it sounded vaguely annoyed.
Grunting, "I have been reading the history books. It does not seem that this is so. At least according to my readings Doctor."
Let him ponder that. It wouldn't do any good anyway, because the man didn't want to see anything beyond his nose. Only wanted the comfort of his perfect little rows of data.
Continuing before Dr. Anderson could speak, "As I am not English, I never shall be English. That does not stop others from expecting me to act as though I were English. And that would be where others intrude on my wishes and treat me in whatever manner they deem fit." Waving his hand over his head, dismissing any actual concern with this, "But it is of no import. I do my best to fit in with whatever is presented as I have no choice in the matter. My only choices are to be conventional, act as all others or as I am expected to, or to fight it. And fighting what is best for me," spinning out that line of bullshit was disgusting and left a horrid taste in his mouth, "is an aberration. Which would only lead to me not getting better."
"Ah, but you are an anomaly Caspian," his huge chair creaked, "you don't do anything the same way as other normal people."
Frowning, Caspian tried to figure out what he could possibly mean, "I do not understand."
"Tell me why you haven't tried pursuing any of the nurses?"
The question seemed to be out of left field, "I do not understand what that has to do with anything."
"You don't find them attractive, do you," it wasn't a question.
Snorting, "Some of them are attractive enough if you do not mind something that looks entirely fake." He paused, "Though, there are a few who are quite lovely. They do not look fake at all, merely natural. I find that quite attractive."
That seemed to surprise him, "You're attracted to one of the nurses?"
"Several are quite comely," shrugging, "and I am a man, and I have the natural response to them. Why would I not?"
"Oh," and he sounded so strange that Caspian half sat up, glancing over the armrest of the couch. The doctor looked utterly flabbergasted but tried to cover it up, "So, who has grabbed your attention?"
Sitting up, legs swinging around, "I still do not understand how this has any bearing on how I do not act normally."
"Just answer the question Caspian."
"Nurse Lewis has a sweet smile," conceding, "and a very nice… figure. I am sure that under most circumstances I would pursue her for those reasons alone."
"Anyone else?"
Going tight lipped, "I believe that that is sufficient Dr. Anderson."
Making a face, "Then tell me why you haven't attempted any amorous actions."
"It is not appropriate," shrugging, "as I have no intention of dishonouring them or tainting their reputations, I have not acted in such an unseemly fashion. Why do you find that so strange?"
Dry chuckling, "You are how old Caspian? Twenty two according to your files, and you should be married by now, yet you're not. So you should be looking…"
"How would you know if I was or was not married?" grunting. "As I do not know if I am or not, that means that I could potentially be betraying my spouse if I were to… chase skirts." Sneering, "I have some standards and codes Dr. Anderson. The fact that I cannot be certain of my marital status does not change the fact that there is such a thing as fidelity. I would much rather err on the side of faithfulness than mere… animal lust." Standing up, "I am no dumb animal to be led around by my baser instincts. Perhaps that would be why I do not fit in with you English. I have seen enough of you and your men here to see these infantile, dishonourable, and disgusting habits to know I would not wish to be a simple slave to my desires." Glancing at the clock, "My physical with Dr. Carter is in twenty minutes, and the session ended nearly twice that amount of time ago. I require a moment to breathe fresh air if you will excuse me."
Anger flashed in Dr. Anderson's eyes to be quickly repressed, "Of course. One thing Ten," stressing the name as though he were pushing Caspian intentionally into that hated mould, "take a few of these. On the off chance you do decide to give into your 'baser instincts' like the dumb animal you are." Small squares were pulled from a drawer and tossed onto the top of his desk, "Ask Dr. Carter to instruct you in their use. We don't need you contracting anything."
Scooping them up, "What are they?"
"Prophylactics, they prevent the spread of disease," glaring.
Moving to put them back on the desk, "As I find it unlikely that I shall be debasing myself anytime soon – I do not need them."
"Take them," it was an order, "and you should try acting like everyone else. And use one. Preferably by the time of our next session."
Blinking in disbelief, "You are telling me, nay – you are ordering me – to have congress with a woman? With a woman I have no intention of wedding, let alone maintaining any sort of relationship with? Are you daft?"
"Do it Ten, prove that you're just like everyone else here."
Snarling, Caspian pocketed the cardboard squares, spun on his heel and stormed from the doctor's office.
XXX
The huge Lion was drowsing in the sun. Caspian wasn't clear on what he wanted to say, or what he intended to do. Hopefully it was the right thing. Approaching Him cautiously, deeply troubled, Caspian tried to ignore how bright the sun shone. Everything was gilded in golden beams, the grass a deep emerald and blue, reminding him of the sea. Wind made each blade ripple, and the air was sweet, somewhere between warm and cool, just the perfect temperature. Everything was perfect here. All was well. And nothing was out of place or made for sadness.
Yet there were things wrong, there were things missing and out of place. And in this lovely, wondrous land, this perfect paradise – Caspian was angry. Anger – an emotion he had thought left behind in the land of those who lived their brief lives bound to flesh. This… disturbed him. Frightened him. Only Aslan would know what to do, but Caspian could not expect Him to fix everything. Man was not Aslan's creature. They were foreigners in His Country, His Land, His World. Accepted humanity may have been, but only in His World did He have any true control over them, and only there did He work at all times for all, which also blanketed the transplanted humans.
Stepping lightly, Caspian continued forward, inexorable. He had a purpose, and Aslan could at least give him guidance or assuage the twisting of his gut. But everything had a price, which Caspian well knew. Aslan's help was freely given, because He loved all His children – Created and Adopted – but there was also a balance. And that balance required action bearing a price. Despite that, Aslan could at the least tell Caspian some of what had happened to cause all this.
Stopping several paces from the Lion, Caspian knelt on both knees, hands clasped before him, beseeching, "Great Lion might I speak with You?"
"Of course My Son," He rolled from His side, turning to face Caspian. "Speak freely and know that I listen."
"The Gentle Queen," swallowing, his heart feeling like lead in his chest, "she was not amongst her siblings."
"She is no longer a friend to Narnia," it was an unhappy sigh.
Blinking the tears that formed, "How could such a thing come to pass Aslan? She loved this place, loved these people, loved You. How could she no longer be a friend to Narnia? Susan bled for all, fought for all. Sacrificed for all." Voice choked with emotion, "Edmund tells me that she forgot. She lost her way – how can that mean she is no longer a friend? Are all who become lost to be discarded? Should we not guide those who are blind to the light, so that they are safe?"
Huge golden eyes slipped open and closed, the light seeming to intensify and dim with the movement, "Of course they should not be abandoned."
"Then why leave the Queen to this fate?" shaking his head, pleading. "Is there nothing that can be done? Someone must do something to guide her feet when she cannot do it for herself."
"And who would do that, who would take her hand and guide her when not even her siblings were able to?" Crossing His paws, Aslan tilted His great leonine head back, "The bonds of blood were not able to keep her on the path."
"Is it hopeless then?" shoulders slumping, Caspian fell forward, his hands digging into the soil, "It is wrong, it is dishonourable, no one should suffer like that in the Shadowlands! Least of all someone known so much for her gentleness."
The quiet stretched, Caspian pressing his forehead into the ground. He couldn't believe that Susan was to be left in the Shadowlands when she deserved access to Aslan's Country just as much as the other Pevensies. Yet it seemed like nothing was to be done. That just didn't fit with his sense of duty, his sense of honour. Someone had to do something. And if the Pevensies weren't equipped to do it, someone else had to try.
A gusty sigh, honeyed breath floating on the air, "It is not hopeless. And yes, it would be wrong to leave her in such a state."
Head snapping up, eyes wide, fingers digging into the earth, "Not hopeless?" Nostrils flaring, "What must be done?"
"Someone must go to the Shadowlands," Aslan stared at him long and hard.
Straightening up, "Then I shall."
"You do not understand Dear One," He cautioned, "it is not a world like Mine. It is no place for you."
Face darkening, hands fisting, "And why would that be? If her siblings are unwilling, incapable, and uncaring why should I not be the one to go? There is no one else to do so it seems."
"Are you set on this course?"
"Will You send me if I am?" challenging.
Sometimes life, or theoretically death, required decisive and bold action. Caspian was nothing if not bold or decisive, his upbringing had ensured that. But his life had taught him diplomacy and mercy. And strength that had nothing to do with his physical prowess.
A voice called to him, waking Caspian up, "Ten? You really should go inside to take a nap. You'll catch your death out here."
Eyes flying wide, Caspian jerked, almost falling off the railing that he still sat on, his back against the concrete wall. Nurse Fisher was there in a flash, her hand going to his elbow to steady him. Regaining his balance, Caspian raked his fingers through his messy wet hair. Rain had fallen hard, driving on a slant, and it hadn't woken him at all.
"Paper, I need paper," hopping off the rail, brushing past Nurse Fisher.
"A memory maybe?" voice bringing him up short.
Turning, he saw her holding a pad and a pen, offering them to him.
Looking from the prizes to her and back again, he reached for them, hand hovering, "Possibly."
She gently pushed the items into his grasp, "Then you should write it down."
"Yes," accepting them, but he felt instant suspicion. Why had she been carrying such things? And why give them to him?
"Well?" she gestured, "Aren't you going to write it down? You should do it before you forget."
Licking his lips, "I…"
"If it'll make you feel better Ten, I'll go ahead and leave," Nurse Fisher smiled, but it was tight, like her feelings were hurt that he would think ill of her, "but just make sure you come in soon and dry off."
Eyes darting around, uncertain, "You may stay if you wish." Trying to smile, "Otherwise I may fall asleep once more, and who will be there to rescue me so fortuitously?"
XXX
The nightly knock came, and then in came Nurse Fisher. Caspian much preferred her presence now that she'd taken over for Nurse Kerry, she didn't look at him with that predatory gleam. Straightening up on the bed, Caspian closed the little notepad she had given him several days ago and put it away.
"Have you written much in it?" setting the tray down on his nightstand.
The last few times she'd come in she had stayed to speak with him some. He liked that, even if it was just her job. And even if it was probably at a doctor's behest.
Shaking his head, "Not really, no. A few sketches. A word here or there. I keep looking at it all, like the answers are right there. But," sighing, "I feel as though I am blind, that my feet have strayed from their intended path."
"Well I hope you find the answers you need," she handed him the glass of water first.
Reluctantly he took it, "So do I." Reaching for the paper cup of pills – he had to get those in his mouth first and tucked to the side, otherwise the water would make his mouth too slippery to keep from swallowing them before they were in place, "But I do not think it will happen anytime soon."
Before his fingers closed over the cup, Nurse Fisher's hand intercepted his, "Drink your water first, then take your pills. It keeps the nasty aftertaste from happening."
"I prefer my way," steel entered his voice.
Blue eyes level, steady as a rock, "Caspian, have you been skipping taking your medications?"
"If I have, then you would have to report me," hoping she wasn't bluffing. Hoping she wouldn't do something like that.
"What could make you not want to take them," she paused, "if… you weren't taking them that is."
"Have you noticed how the men here are… lethargic? Numb? Or friendly all the time?" whispering. "Or perhaps the pervasive…. Apathy. I am numb enough Nurse Fisher, things seem foggy to my eyes as is. If I were not taking my medications, would I not be more alert? More… myself?"
She studied him, then nodded once, the cup crumpling under her hand, "So it wasn't just me. It's supposed to help, and I think it does for some. But," she pocketed the wadded up paper, "I think you might be right. So, now that you've taken your meds, I'll let you finish getting ready for bed."
Biting his lip, "Nurse Fisher, thank you."
"You're welcome," her full mouth curved upwards gently. The touch was impulsive it seemed, her fingers moving to brush the hair from his forehead, "Get some rest. And you shouldn't neglect that other journal I think. Dr. Anderson's been asking about you."
Back stiffening, "Pardon?"
"I figure I should warn you, just like you warned me about Caitlin," fingertips so soft, the touch small but it sent heat through him. He was touched so rarely, he allowed it almost not at all. "A good turn deserves another."
"Does she make things hard for you?" wanting her to stay longer, to keep him company. Caspian felt somewhat human with the nurse around. Especially right now, with her huge blue eyes looking at him like that, like she actually gained pleasure from the time they spent together. Like he made her feel real in this unreal place.
"Sometimes," shrugging. "But it's not so bad that I'll quit. I need the job and I find helping soldiers makes me feel close to my brother."
"He is a soldier?"
A shadow passed over her face, "He was a soldier. He became one because… well – why did you become a soldier?"
"I imagine it was because I had to," Caspian got up, surreptitiously checking his door. It was mostly closed over, and as he never made any trouble at night, orderlies didn't stand guard over his room when a nurse was in with him. "As it was for him as well. That is the only reason to become one."
Fidgeting, a hand flew up to smooth a curl at the nape of her neck, "That makes sense. I just wish there was no need for them, no need to call anyone to arms."
Moving closer to her, "Where there is power, land, money or ego on the line… there will always be war or conflict. And so there will always be a need for soldiers." The dip in her waist was calling to him, and Caspian didn't fight it, much. Taking hold of her hand, making sure to keep the touch light and soft, "And where there are soldiers there will always be those in need of help, of a kind voice. To remind them that they are human and not the killers they are trained to be. That being a soldier is supposed to be about protecting hearth and home, not about making war. Only guarding against it."
"It's almost time for lights out," but she didn't pull her hand from his, "You're the last one in line, and you have a few minutes to yourself. You should take them."
Squeezing her hand, "Many of my minutes are to myself Nurse Fisher." Backing away, Caspian went to sit back on his bed, "Good evening, and may your eventual rest be easy."
XXX
Finding a somewhat comfortable position on the couch, Caspian turned the page of his book. In the background, he could hear Captain Obvious slur his victory cry, the game of poker leaning towards the soldier. He didn't tune it out, because Caspian didn't like how Seymour's health had been deteriorating. His muscles would twitch, his arm, or a leg bouncing about, and the shortest orderly always seemed to take offense at this. As though Seymour lost control of his muscles at will, and the squat orderly would go to 'calm' Seymour, as though he had something to prove. Caspian didn't like bullies, and had the distinct feeling that he never had.
There was the added risk that any beating that Seymour suffered could trigger another fit of convulsions. It had already happened two more times after the first. If only to himself, Caspian admitted he was worried by that, and by the fact that Seymour's pills had been increased to triple the original dose. At breakfast there would be a cup for Seymour, then at lunch, and of course before bed. Rather than getting better at all, he was getting worse.
Adjusting his long frame, scooting a shoulder to the side, Caspian peeked over the edge of his book, scanning the room. Thankfully the room wasn't quite so blindingly white, a washed out creamy beige painted the walls, and the linoleum floors were speckled with black over the dingy snow bases. At the entrance to the sitting room, a table with three men dressed in white uniforms sat playing cards, only paying a passing attention to their wards. So Caspian watched, doing a damn sight better job than those who were actually paid to work here, making sure no one caused trouble by spotting it before it started and going over and giving a stern look to whomever may start anything. The other patients differed to Caspian, even though he made many uncomfortable. There had been an occasion earlier this morning where two men had come to him seeking a neutral third party point of view, and Caspian had given it of course. He didn't want any problems to crop up for anyone, and if him listening to their issues prevented that – then so be it.
"Oh hello Charles," a parcel was tucked under her arm as Nurse Fisher entered, and one of the veterans stopped her, "how has your day been going?"
harles scratched the back of his head as Caspian watched, "It's much better now that you're on shift Nurse Fisher." Beaming beneath his blush, "You really brighten things up."
Laying a hand on his shoulder, patting it, "Thank you Charles, and you boys certainly make my day worthwhile."
Listening with half an ear, Caspian unobtrusively observed, "Really?" At Nurse Fisher's nod, Charles blushed even brighter, "Well that's really swell!"
Caspian could tell that Susie actually meant it, and all the other patients could too, and that was why she was replacing Nurse Kerry in their hearts. He didn't like thinking of Nurse Fisher as 'Susie' but it was better than 'Nurse Fisher'. Neither name fit her at all, and when she was so gentle with everyone here, so giving despite everything – it confused Caspian all in all. She had become his new puzzle, there was a falseness to her name, just as there was to her being here. Susie didn't fit in here, she stuck out just as much as he did. And that in of itself was what made her so important to him now. Figuring her out was symbolic of figuring out why he was here and what he couldn't remember.
Drawn from his wandering thoughts, the object of them hove into view, "Hello Ten."
"Nurse Fisher," not bothering to hide the warming of his tone, "a pleasure as always," rising to give her his customary bow.
She quirked a round brow at him, "You needn't rise for me."
"One should always rise in the presence of a lady," keeping the place in his book with his thumb as he dipped briefly once more.
To that she laughed, "Oh I'm no lady!"
Unwilling to naysay her, Caspian kept his own counsel on that. For when she moved amongst the men, smiling, chatting, listening and nodding, so focused on each person – she was as regal and lovely as any gentle queen.
XXX
"I never to7ok you for an artist," Queen Susan's voice came close to breaking his concentration.
Caspian glanced up from the crisp vanilla cream of his drawing pad, "I am not much of one, but it does bring me pleasure."
Coming closer, the Gentle Queen paused as he made room on the bench for her to sit, "What sorts of things do you like to draw?"
Shifting even more, Caspian leaned the leather covered wood binding away from the thick cotton paper so that she could see, "Whatever comes to mind." Tracing a sweeping swirl with his blunt fingertip, "I see shapes and if I like their line I draw them. This is what I saw from that branch over there," pointing to a willow off to the side, "and I just… traced it. As I said," shrugging, "I am not much of an artist."
"It's still quite pretty," he allowed Susan to take his drawing from him so she could examine the seemingly meaningless twists, turns, circles and spirals, "even if no one but you knows what inspired it."
The coronation was over, and Caspian had the distinct feeling that this would be his last conversation with the Gentle Queen. And here they were wasting it on something so trivial as his talentless artwork. He watched as her eyes skipped over the page, thick and thin lines pulling her in. If anyone could say anything about his doodlings accurately, it was that once one started looking over it, that it was quite hypnotic for it relinquished the eye only grudgingly.
Reaching out he closed the book with a soft thump, "Careful or you will injure your eyes."
"Caspian – " he rose not letting the Queen finish.
"I know my Queen," holding out his hand for her to take, "I know, and I accept for there is no other recourse. I can only attempt to be as graceful and wise as you and your siblings are about this. Then again," unable to stop the spillover of bitterness, "I have stood on my own two feet without anyone to lean upon for most of my life. As King why would it be any different?"
"Is that what you think?" her huge blue eyes gazing at him with sadness. "That you will be alone? Oh Caspian, don't ever think such a horrid thing."
Forcing himself to shake it off, Caspian tried to regain his aplomb – after all the Gentle Queen had come to say her goodbyes to him, he shouldn't spite such kindness, "As you say my Queen. Accept my apology, I was being rude."
"Caspian," she
took hold of his hand with both of hers, staying seated as she gazed
earnestly up at him, "you will never be alone. You will always have
Aslan's Love, and you will always have your people. And," her
smile was soft, small, and more brilliant than the sun, "you will
always have the love, trust, and friendship of the Pevensies. And if
all that isn't good enough – well poo on you."
Unable to
stop the laugh when she coupled the last with crossed eyes and a
stuck out tongue, Caspian squeezed her hands gratefully, "Now if
only I could have your wisdom!"
"Oh that's quite lovely," antiseptic and honeysuckle filled his nostrils as Nurse Fisher leaned over his shoulder, peeking at what was on his drawing pad.
She had snapped him from the daydream, and he wasn't sure if he was appreciative or not for that action. There had been a woman, his wife possibly, for he had had warm feelings for the young lady. But he couldn't be sure. And he could recall nothing more of her other than strong hands, soft callous on her fingertips, and a voice that was able to sooth even the most savage emotion. It was gone, anything else he could have grasped from the memory-dream-hallucination. He couldn't be sure any of it was real anyway.
"Thank you," taking a deep breath, Caspian ignored the sterile alcohol scent in favor for the light and sweet that was also on Nurse Fisher's skin. "I am quite thankful for this," shifting the artpad against his knees where it was propped. Looking out over the gray-colourful garden from his perch on the railing, "It has been nice to have something to draw on. Now perhaps I shall be able to spare my journal so much of the abuse it suffers."
"I thought you'd like it," she nodded, seemingly pleased, "and I thought perhaps it'd be easier for you to draw those unseen vistas you gaze at for so long."
Brows beetling in confusion, "I do not understand."
Leaning her elbows on the rail, "You stare off into the garden so much, like you're seeing something there that no one else can. Like you know that there's something there, but it's just out of reach. It's as though you know the route back to some secret place, and you wished to leave here, but you don't for some strange reason. I do so wish I could see what you saw," her voice turned wistful at the last. Then she let out a nervous laugh, "Sorry, you must think me silly for such a flight of fancy!"
Studying Nurse Fisher in this new light, Caspian shifted on the railing, crossing his legs underneath him, uncaring of the precarious balance, "I do not think you silly." Gathering his thoughts, staring at her intently even as she avoided his eyes, "I think that you may be more perceptive than you believe. There are different layers to everything in life, different faces and actions for each person that we come across. It is possible then that," encompassing the garden, the patio, the hospital and themselves with the wave of his pen, "there is more to all of it then, is it not? We all have our secret places, and perhaps we just lose our way. Would it not make sense then if as we get older we forget those things that make us ourselves, those things that make life worthwhile?"
"You sound like my little brother," her voice became distant, and heavy. "He was very introspective and spent so much of his time thinking and dreaming those things that no one but him could see."
"The same brother who was a soldier?" keeping his voice easy.
Shaking her head, "No. That would be my elder brother."
"Ah," if their positions had been different, Caspian would have taken her hand. But sitting on the rail like he was, and her too far away left him unable to do more than just watch her.
Nurse Fisher stared off into the distance, eyes unseeing. But no, they were seeing a path to some secret place, some path that she could no longer walk. He wasn't the only one who searched for those hidden places that had made him who he was. Caspian wasn't sure right then if it was getting older that left people searching for that which they had left behind, or if it was something else entirely.
Opening his mouth to only snap it close, Caspian glanced away, following Susie's line of sight. The depth of the swirling maelstrom of the young woman's emotions was palpable even from where he sat, and what could he do about it anyway? Although she hadn't come out and said it, Caspian was sure that the young men she had mentioned were dead. That left her alone in this world, otherwise he was sure she would have said something of her family. She seemed the sort to speak of those who were important – if they were alive that is. As unlikely as it may or may not be, Caspian was sure he was correct in his assessment, that Nurse Fisher was utterly alone in this world, much like he was.
Seeking to distract her, "Would you care to accompany me in my afternoon stroll Nurse Fisher?"
Jerking in surprise, her dark sapphire eyes had swirled into even deeper a midnight, and at the corner of one luminous eye was a small shimmering crystal. The tear stayed where it was, newborn and not fully formed, like the words that came close to bursting from the dams that she had put up. All that and more Caspian could see, and it mirrored his own feelings of bewildered loss and aimless confusion. In the end Nurse Fisher smiled at him tightly and nodded.
"I think I could do with a walk," slipping her hand as though it were a once familiar custom of hers into the crook of his elbow after he hopped down from his perch, "thank you Ten."
"As always the pleasure is all mine Nurse Fisher," inclining his head.
