The Personal Records of a Doctor: A RDNA-verse Tale.
17 March 1934
Eventful day to say the least. That was an understatement. Those words keep ringing in my head. Can't snap now. Have to stay focused.
Stayed in the room to monitor her progress. Needed to keep busy. Didn't sleep. Couldn't, even if I wanted to. Not after that. She woke up around 7 AM. Told me of another haunting dream. Said she heard desperate voices. Those of her mother. If only that were true. Quietly dosed her off before she could finish. Still too soon. Couldn't let her find out. Had the room under watch as I left. Seemed like a good idea then.
His Majesty called by noontime. Praised me for tremendous service to God, liege and country. With all respect, doubt I deserve it. Then he suggested that I return back to regular duties. A relieve from stress. His point was clear. My services were no longer needed. Or that nothing else could be done. Said something else:
"You've experienced the strangeness too, have you not?"
Forced myself not to ask further. Knew too much as is. Undoubtedly he did too [1].
That evening I sensed something was wrong. Bridget must have noticed also. Then again, it had been for much of the day. Something in her eyes. In the way she moved about. Wasn't all that obvious, really. Nothing chaotic. But she seemed to read my every move. That I was holding back something from her. She knew.
Francesca was with us for supper. Seemed happy to savor the food and our company. That much was sincere. Yet it seemed as though her very presence was directed at me. As though I suddenly felt the weight of years pressing down. All that really showed was a warm though restrained smile. Then she whispered something. Her voice came out gentle. No, pleading. Desperate.
"You saw them right? What did they say? I have all the time in the world. But please tell me. Please..."
No one else heard it. Dear God, what am I doing here? Wish they were mere hallucinations. But I can't keep this away from her. Too risky. Could bring peace, or send her down to madness. Don't know. Don't know what to do.
[1] Several strange occurrences transpired around the Residence, and to an extent in scattered parts of the country, during that initial decade. A number of which were witnessed by His Majesty, Franz Ferdinand I (1863-1936). For safety reasons, these are confidential matters that are best kept aside. -Ed.
What follows is the final entry directly pertaining to this secluded chapter of the doctor and his patient. The diary, however, also contained writings jotted down in the days between the 17th and 21st of March. What became of these "lost writings" and their whereabouts are strictly confidential, by direct order of the Dynasty. All that can be said of them is that those pertain to "private matters."
- Office of the Prime Minister (2007)
21 March 1934
Nothing much out of the ordinary earlier. It's been a while since I last entered our home. Or came back to work, so to speak. More patients starting to sign up. Has it already been a month? Still couldn't keep my head straight. Those images keep propping up.
Before we left, Francesca showed us a secret clearing near the Dynasty's Crypt. Apparently not that many were aware this even existed. It was nothing much. A long slab of marble still being polished. Yet freshly engraved were the flags, names and insignia of the Lost Nations. Recognized some of the names. Already knew the answer. Tried to keep quiet.
She stood by one particular section of the slab. There were bundles of edelweiss around it. And tears. Quiet ones. Thought I saw two shapes approach her before vanishing. Couldn't make them out. Didn't want to know. Imagined their faces and those of the other casualties. All of them. Seemed as though I was witnessing it happen in all its horror. If there were whispers, I must have shut them out. It was too much.
Her sobs grew louder. Seemed as though she would lunge at us any moment. That never happened. There was a something about her face. Calm, sane. Longing. Yet I can't describe it further. Seemed all too familiar. Like them. Paid our respects and took leave.
Hasn't been easy on me either. Couldn't quite look at some of the patients straight in the eyes [1]. Bridget urged me to go out for a while. Maybe it's best to tell her what I witnessed.
As for her, I still don't know. About her final condition. Or whether to reveal the whole truth. Perhaps one day. I couldn't do much for her treatment. But as an act of mercy, what else is there? Something has turned for the better. If it does help in the long run, who knows?
By any chance you come across this Francesca, I'm sorry. Did all I could. Just hope they were right as well. Just hope Father Austria and Mother Hungary were right as well. Everything will fall into place.
[1] It was known that after his activities in the Residence, Dr. Heisenberg had certain quirks whenever he dealt with refugees. While his "discomfort" was discrete, this, along with special incentives from the Dynasty, may explain some of his behavior later on. -Ed.
