He spoke her name three times in a session without reaction. When she finally looked at him there was no recognition in her eyes. Instead he saw something chilling, but not in the same manner as her wild rages. Authority lay in those blue eyes, and dignity. Her chin lifted at a slightly different angle, just a little higher, as she surveyed him.
"That," she finally told him, "is not my name."
Inside his chest, all his hopes for her progress sank just a little more. There had been signs of dissociation when she first arrived, in her claimed amnesia and her fluctuating acceptance of the deaths. Never, though, had she completely stepped into delusion before that day.
As carefully as possible, he coaxed another name from her. She told him with a hint of impatience, as though her name should be well known. Then she spoke of other things, of kingdoms and crystals, of castles and princesses and planets. With one finger she traced a shape across her forehead, the shape that had sent her sobbing once before.
A crescent.
"Endymion."
The doctor blinked uncertainly at her. "I'm sorry?"
"Where is Endymion?" she had demanded. "He should…he should be here. Why isn't he here? I feel I haven't seen him in so long."
This path only led to confusion and agitation. Finally he signaled the newest orderly to come and take her back to her room. As they walked down the hall he could see the orderly, a slender young woman with short hair that made her far too boyish for his taste, nodding gently along as the girl spoke. For a moment the doctor saw a hand placed on the patient's shoulder in a reassuring squeeze. It was the first time he had ever seen her accept physical comfort.
That full moon changed everything.
