A/N: Oh hey! So here's a new chapter of this story which is named in French. I also changed said name because I realised it didn't make sense… I'm great at French! Woo!

So, enjoy ladies and gentlemen!

xoxo
He Who Descends

The next day, I didn't feel so drab about heading to the wards because I knew that, despite likely suffering years and years of abuse, that little boy had formed a bond with me. And maybe, he'd even like to see me again.

I made my way up to the second floor of Mayflower bright and early at about a quarter to six that morning. I had thoroughly enjoyed my shower the night before and not so thoroughly enjoyed getting to know the ladies who shared Number eight Independence Drive with me.

But during the day I could keep them out of my mind.

I met up with Rosa and Rosalie at the dumbwaiter at the opposite end of the building to the stairs.

"Good morning, nurse," Rosa giggled, tapping my ass as I passed her.

I shot her a glare as I picked up a tray of food. "Nursing is not just a woman's job."

Rosalie cracked up and almost dropped her tray of food. "As if. Jasper you're so girllllyyy."

"I am not," I grumbled. "Look I don't have time for your games. Why don't you do something useful and feed some children?"

"Party pooper," Rosa murmured.

I pushed past them and into the familiar, stinking hallway. 'No better than yesterday,' I thought sadly to myself. I continued until the end near the window and sure enough, still tied to the hand-rail staring intently into the outside world, was the tiny boy from yesterday.

Padding up behind him, I hesitated before laying a hand gently on a frail shoulder. He jerked and whirled around, eyes wide and startled and matted, fair hair whipping about his ears with his speed. Upon seeing me, he appeared to settle down, grey pools no longer reflecting the fear they had been.

"Good morning, little one," I said softly enough to convey my caring feelings but loudly enough to be heard over the ambient sounds.

He tilted his head, his eyes saying 'I didn't think you'd come back'.

"Well, from now on, I'm always going to come and see you. Everyday," I promised, placing the tray on my knees and reaching up to untie his wrists.

He seemed unsure of my touch but only for a moment as I took away the tattered ropes and shuffled closer to him so I could feed him.

"Do you know how to feed yourself?" I asked, pulling his naked body against my side.

He shook his head but still grabbed at the spoon. Ok, mixed messages there. He picked up the spoon and held it up to me. I nodded.

"Yep, that's the start," I explained, taking his hand in mine and scooping up some of the slop Pennhurst called food. "And then you get some food and you put it in your mouth."

I guided his little hand to his mouth and successfully fed him one spoonful of food. He seemed ecstatic to be eating and it made me smile.

"Do you want to try yourself?" I asked gently, wiping some drool from the corner of his mouth.

He nodded eagerly, pulling his hand out of mine. He slowly copied what I had done, but missed his mouth and dropped it all over himself. I chuckled and he looked up at me with tears in his eyes.

"Oh no, don't cry. It's ok, you'll learn," I murmured, cuddling him. "Come on, like this…"

I took his hand with the spoon in it again and helped him scoop up some slop, then helped him put it in his mouth. He smiled once again as he chewed and swallowed. I had to wonder; did the gruel actually taste good or was he just happy to be eating?

"Good?" I asked.

He nodded enthusiastically, swallowing the last of his mouthful. To my surprise, he reached up and hugged me tightly, humming a little.

"Do you talk, little one?" I asked, rubbing his back and smoothing his hair down.

"Mmm-mmm," he shook his head.

"But you understand me?" I asked, puzzled.

"Mmmm-hmm," he nodded. He lifted his hands and drew shapes in the air with them. "Mmmm mmm mmm."

"You can write?" I tried.

He smiled wide and nodded, sending his dirty matted hair everywhere.

"Can you write your name?" I asked, handing him the pen off my collar and holding out my arm for him to write on.

He pulled an unsure face, but then nodded determinedly.

He began writing on my arm. First a pretty decent 'C', a poorly formed 'A', an almost unintelligible 'R' which he had another go at, a decent 'L', an 'I', a very wonky 'S', another 'L' and the last letter, an odd looking but recognisable 'E'.

"Carlisle?" I asked.

He nodded slowly, probably having only heard his name a few times since he arrived here. He returned my pen to me and I smiled, stroking his hair. I pulled him up onto my lap and fidgeted until I was leaning against the wall of the hallway. I spread his legs so his legs were bent either side of me and I then pulled my legs up behind him, sloping my back so he was part way between a sitting and lying position when he leaned against my chest. He made a happy little noise and his thumb found his mouth. I leaned my cheek against the top of his head.

"Are you still hungry?" I murmured and he nodded in response. "Ok," I picked up the spoon off the tray beside me on the floor and scooped up some gruel and fed it to him.

We sat like that until late into the afternoon; me slowly feeding him the entirety of the food and snuggling him all day.

In fact, we spent many days in situations like that; just enjoying one another's presence. I still helped out on the wards, but I spent as much time as I could helping Carlisle learn to write more and draw pictures and read.