"I brought breakfast."
"I see," said the man yawning slightly, starting to get up as Elizabeth made her way over to the second door.
And by the time she had passed through that door and closed it, the tray still safe, Peter was fully sitting up now appearing wide awake.
"I hope you like it, I wasn't sure what you preferred," said the woman placing the tray down on the bed.
She watched the man's eyes scan over the food and stopped at the apple sitting on the edge.
"It looks wonderful," he said carefully picking up the apple, as if he couldn't believe it was really for him.
Elizabeth stepped back slightly in order to give him some space. She didn't want to intimidate him or anything.
"Enjoy."
Peter nodded taking a bite now looking at the book placed at the edge of the tray and picked it up curiously.
"It's Shakespeare. Have you ever heard of him?"
"When I was wandering through the forests I once saw a traveling troupe of actors practicing "Hamlet," I think. That's one of his plays, correct?"
The woman nodded in response.
"That's one of Shakespeare's most famous plays actually. I just finished this one through and figured you'd like it…you can read right?"
"Yes, I can. Lucky for me I just sort of remembered how to."
He spoke with a bit of anger staring intensely at the apple in his hand. But he also spoke longingly, for many reasons it seemed.
After a moment he took another bite his expression softening,
"Sorry."
"It's okay. If you need to talk I would be happy to listen."
"Thank you. I have never had anyone to talk to, at least anyone who would willingly listen. Yet again I don't think Father will ever be a willing listener."
He laughed darkly at this taking yet another bite.
Elizabeth felt the urge to say something to break the silence,
"But he is a good storyteller. He told the staff you were some mentally-ill family member who he was graciously taking in."
Elizabeth said this still feeling a little incensed about her husband's words from the night before and Peter was able to sense it very clearly.
"May I ask who told you that?" asked the man politely.
"One of the servant-girls, Jessica, was inquiring to the 'full' story of who you were and spoke of that."
"I assume you are an admirable story teller yourself then?"
"I suppose so. She believed me when I said you had a mental disorder making you prone to 'attacks' of insanity and that the guards were the cause of that. I added on saying you had a skin disorder and that your name was peter," said Elizabeth tacking on the name she had given him at the end.
The man had heard the story quite clearly but the name she spoke rung in his ears for some reason.
"My name?" he asked more than surprised.
Elizabeth tumbled into an explanation,
"I wanted to make the story more personal and it's a good name not to mention I'm reading this book and the main character's name is Peter…Do you not like it?"
"You're giving it to me?"
"If you'll take it, that is."
After a moment the man sunk back against the wall taking another bite before saying,
"Peter, then."
"You do like it?"
"Yes, thank you."
One of the greatest gifts he had ever been given. The only gift he had ever been given."
"I was so uncertain about how you would feel about it. I'm glad you do."
"I'm just curious about how you came to it now. You said from a book with a character named Peter?"
"Peter Pan is the name of it. I'm in the midst of it as of now actually."
"A name from a story for a story; how appropriate."
"Well you and him seem to be a bit alike…he was abandoned by his parents after his birth and lives in the forests. He also plays a flute. Victor told me once that you play one as well."
"Yes, but it was taken after my unfortunate capture. I do miss it greatly. Do you think father has it?"
Elizabeth ignored Peter calling Victor father, or at least attempted to. It was an eerie reminder in her eyes of Peter's're-birth' and what he was.
"I can look for it if you wish."
"Thank you."
But yet again it might make him feel more 'normal' in being able to say he had a technical father even if it wasn't his real father of whomever he might have been before.
Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of one of the guards shifting and beginning to wake.
"You should go," said Peter looking nervously past the two barred doors.
"It's okay. I have officially been assigned your caretaker. Well at least for meals. There is no need to look anxious."
"Did Victor not tell you?"
"Tell me what?"
"How they were the ones to torture me. And what he doesn't know-God what he doesn't know. After I had lain on the floor barely conscience from what they had done to me I heard them speak of what they did to tavern girls after they left to go home…"
Elizabeth grew speechless looking to group of sleeping men suddenly terrified.
"They would corner a girl and have their way."
"How often?" was all the woman was able to choke out.
Peter drew in a rattling breath.
"Every few nights I believe. But yet again I was not always conscience when they spoke to each other about their plots and happenings. Men are disgusting creatures are we not?"
Elizabeth sat down on the bed, no longer able to stand. She wasn't sure she would be able to walk past those men now.
"Sorry, I shouldn't have said that."
"No, its okay. They attacked that servant, Jessica, I spoke of earlier. She came to me in tears and I worry."
"I wish I could help but it seems I am to be confined here until the day I die…if I ever do so."
"I feel myself bound to change that."
Peter laughed under his breath.
"Your husband would never allow it. No matter how much of good 'man' I could ever make myself out to be he will never forgive me just as I will never forgive him."
He spoke of something more besides William but the woman decided not to think about it now.
"You may consider yourself wrong then. Just wait and see."
And she spoke for both causes. She would prove his humanity, even so Peter might believe it himself one day and when that happened she would be able to free him.
"I'm glad you feel so determined."
He smiled slightly now.
"I suppose I should go then, "said the woman in a bit of a huff.
"Thank you for the food and the book."
Elizabeth got up on shaky legs and almost fell back onto the bed when she felt two hands placed firmly on her back, balancing. She then saw the half-eaten apple lying on the ground. She hadn't heard it fall.
"Are you okay?"
Elizabeth stood frozen at the sudden contact. His hands were large and warm and felt comforting placed on her back.
They moved to her arms as he gently, ever so gently pulled her to sit down again.
He touched her as if she were glass, or perhaps a delicate flower.
"I'm fine," she breathed trying to stand up but felt her legs wobble.
"You should sit for a little while."
Elizabeth nodded.
She looked at his hands now and then his wrists which were rubbed raw from the cuffs.
"Are you okay?" she found herself asking him staring at his wrists still.
"The pain is bearable. Do not worry; I'm quite used to it at this point."
The woman found herself wincing. She shouldn't have said anything. Of course he was able to bear the pain since he wasn't being tortured anymore. He spoke very calmly about it though, and that scared her in a way.
"Sorry."
She looked down at her own hands, which were shaking slightly. She was sure he was trying to forget that. No matter how strong he might be she knew it still hurt him to think about what was done to him and the same for what he had done.
He was only human after all.
"Think you can stand now?" he asked gently.
"Better then you could," she said lightly trying to lighten her mood.
She stood up carefully again feeling a hand on her waist ready to catch her if she fell.
Her legs seemed to be able to support her now and the hand moved away.
She walked a step feeling a little lightheaded but she was standing. She took another step then another.
She could feel him sitting rigidly on the bed, his eyes boring into her back with worry.
Then when she reached the barred door, both she and Peter sighed a breath of relief.
"Thank you once again…for everything," she heard him say as she took out her keys.
"Hopefully by the time I come back tonight you will have your flute again," was all she replied opening the door and slipping out.
Neither spoke as she locked the door and moved to the next repeating the process.
She walked briskly, bravely in his opinion past the guards and up the stairs.
"determined indeed," he muttered to himself.