She was there in the morning, her hair perfectly done, her appearence impeccable to the naked eye. Only a practiced eye- specifically Peter's- could see the barely-there traces of tears, the way her coverup was caked particularly heavy under her eyes, the way her lower lip was just a shade darker than her upper lip due to how much she was biting her lip. She approached the desk, Peter's wallet and her own purse clutched in either hand.

Andrew was one of the few male nurses that were on the floor today. He'd been relegated to desk duty after checking in on the boy in 345, who was now lucid after nearly a week of delirium. Apparently his sister had called late last night and informed them of his psychiatric condition and all his medical information had somehow the doctor on duty had taken that and brought him out of it. He was a little sad; he felt bad for the boy but he had grown accustomed to being called Edmund and listening to all of his fears and troubles.
He looked up at the young woman approaching, slapping a welcoming smile on his face.
"How can I help you, Miss?" he asked. She seemed nervous; and to be honest most people who came up here had good reason to be nervous. He wondered who she was here for. He hoped it wasn't the old woman down the hall who had died that morning- he hated being the one who told people that their loved ones had passed; especially when working this floor. It was the floor where they put all the people who had been wandering around with no identification, no one looking for them and no one who cared until the police put their face on the news. When people came here to identify the patients, they had to face that they had neglected their responsibility as a family member, that they had failed someone that needed them.
"My name is Susan, Susan Pevensie," she said quietly, holding out an identification card, "Is that man here? He's my brother."
Andrew took the card from her hand, looking at it and raising an eyebrow. Peter, that was the boy's name from 345. He smiled to himself for a moment, he would have never guessed he was 23. But when her name rang in his ears, he felt himself give her a hostile look. So this is Susan, the one who hurt him, he thought.
"Yes, that's him," he said, his voice cold and clipped. Susan nearly flinched, a moment ago he was all smiles and sweetness. She wonder what had caused the sudden change as he commanded her, "Follow me." He walked down the hall quickly, and she followed, her heels clicking against the hard floor. He left her at the door, pointing inside. She didn't understand, so she simply went in and didn't question it.
A nurse was tending to him, a thermometer stuck in his mouth as she looked at the beeping machines.
"All seems normal," she said with a grin on her face, leaning down to take the thermometer from his mouth. He said something to her that Susan couldn't understand, and she laughed, tousling his hair gently.
"Thank you, Nurse Emily," he said as he went around him, straightening things up and moving things around.
"I don't think I'll ever get used to you calling me by my name," she said with a laugh, "I was beginning to believe my name really was Lucy!" He blushed, mumbling an apology that he must have given a thousand times, because she only laughed and said, "You must love your little sister very much. " She looked up and saw Susan, nearly jumping out of her skin.
"Oh I am so sorry. Are you Lucy?" she asked, smiling pleasantly.
"No..." she replied, biting her lip, "I'm...Susan." The girl's smile disappeared, and she looked at Peter.
"Will you be alright?" she asked softly.
"I'll be fine," he reassured her. She turned to go, walking past Susan without looking at her. She looked at the retreating nurse's back, and then back to him.
"Why do they do that?" she asked, "As soon as they find out my name, they look as if I've stepped on their foot." Peter looked at his hands guiltily.
"When I was hallucinating, I may have said a bit more than I would at any other time," he said quietly, "I never spoke ill of you- they told me that much." She was taken aback- he could have said a great deal of mean things about her and they all probably would've been true.
"I..." she began, before snapping her mouth shut. She opened it again, trying to articulate, "I'm so sorry Peter. I never...thought this would happen."
"Who would?" he said bitterly, looking away and out the window, "Who would imagine that something so beautiful would spread like a disease and kill everything around you?" She almost burst into tears then and there. She reached out, taking his hand.
"Everything will be okay," she said, stroking the back of his hand with her thumb, "I met someone who could help."
He groaned, tearing his hand from hers. He pressed the heels of his palms to his temples, looking fit to cry.
"No more help," he moaned, "I don't want anymore help!" Nurse Emily was in the room a moment later, checking all his vitals and all but snarling at Susan.
"You cannot upset him like that!" she scolded, "He has only been stable for about 8 hours! Can't you argue with him when he's better?"
"Nurse Emily, it was my fault," he said, touching her arm, "I got worked up over something silly. I'm fine, Susan didn't do anything." She shot another glare at Susan before scurrying out. She calmly sat back down, looking at Peter pleadingly.
"Please," she begged, "He's a good doctor- he's been my doctor for a few months. I really think he can help you Peter. Just...can't you meet him?"
Peter felt his eyes grow heavy as Susan slid in and out of his vision; Nurse Emily had given him a sedative when she came in last.
"I'll...yes," he slurred, his head rolling to the side as he fell asleep.