Fiona arrived for class, walking with a cane. She was one of half a dozen patients gathered before the therapist, a leathery woman. Director Gorey stood beside her, with what he thought was a confident smile on his face. "Each of you will be paired with a partner," the therapist said. "Usually, we separate by gender, but since we have three each, there's going to need to be one mixed pair. Ms. Frost and Mr. Stahl, if you don't mind, I'm putting you together. Ms. Frost, consider it a favor. Mr. Stahl has been with us long enough that he could probably do my job." That kept Gorey smiling, though a hint of unease crept in.
An open-reel tape player was brought out to play a selection of music while the group went through a series of exercises. Fiona knew it was an album billed as the greatest music of Ostania. Soon, Stahl and Fiona were sitting on a mat, his left hand in her right. She made a point neither to stare nor avoid looking at the stumps of his legs. His left leg ended at the knee. A little more remained of his right. "You are doing well," he said, smoothly guiding her through the directed motion. By then, the player had reached "Pity of God", the most famous work of the most famed of the many composers from the perennially disputed region of Thurindia. "I would guess you are used to following orders."
"I don't know," Fiona said. "Maybe I'm just a fast learner." She guided him in turn. "So, you were really in the Air Corps?"
"Yes," he said. "I got to be a bit of a celebrity. It was a little embarrassing, really. Since my, ah, accident, they have let me keep a low profile, comparatively."
"About that," Fiona said. "It's obvious what happened with the legs. But what's the deal with the arm?"
"Well, it's all a longer story," Stahl said. "Still, I can tell you this; I climbed out of an aircraft after a crash, before a rescue team could reach me. Evidently, I overstrained my left arm in particular. It requires periodic adjustment. I remember very little of it, myself. How about you?"
"Just clumsy," Fiona said. "I fell down the stairs while I was taking files down to records. I must have tried to use my arm to break my fall. I suppose it might have been worse."
"Yes," Stahl said. "I notice, many women have trouble with stairs." Fiona discretely followed his flitting gaze. She suppressed a flinch when she confirmed that Gorey was watching them intently.
"Say," Fiona said, "where are you from? From the accent, I'd say… Badaria."
"Hugaria," he said. "It's an easy mistake."
"Which Hugaria?" she asked with a smile.
"Well," Stahl said, "it seems you know more than you let on."
During a break, he reached into his pocket for a kerchief. A religious artifact came out with it, a wooden cross with an extra bar above and below. "So," she said, "you are a believer?"
"You could say that," Steven answered. "I was raised in the church. I came back to it, after… well. How about you?"
Fiona considered. She could have told him that her father had belonged to the same church, but had not attended since before her birth. She could also have said that the family had still been driven out of their homeland by the followers of another sect. Instead, she shrugged. "I'm open-minded," she said.
As the session came to an end, Gorey approached, smiling. He had gone to more trouble than usual to comb his hair over a bald spot that had already expanded noticeably in the time she had known him. As usual, it only made what he tried to hide more obvious. He gave her a wide smile. "Ah, Fiona darling," he said. "I am so glad you are doing well. You know, I put the request through for you to be included in the group…"
"Yes, I thank you," Fiona said. She knew that Loid Forger had suggested it, with a hint that it might win her affection.
"I see you have already met our most famous patient, Colonel Stahl," the director said in what he hoped was a smooth segue. "I'm sure he has told you, he is a war hero. For a while, he was an actor…"
"He said a little about it," Fiona said. "When I asked."
Stahl discretely maneuvered his chair between her and the director. "I see you are very familiar with your employees," he said, smiling wider. "It's always nice when management keeps a personal touch. I'm sure you're just as friendly with everyone at the hospital."
"Of course," Gorey said, still smiling. He extended his hand to the other man. "It's good to have you back." He showed visible discomfort as Stahl shook with a crushing grip. As Gorey retreated, Stahl turned to Fiona with a smile shifted ever so slightly to kindness.
"What is your position here at the hospital?" he asked. "I mean to say, are you a doctor, or in a position responsible for patients?"
"I am an assistant to Dr. Loid Forger, in the psychiatry department, and to Dr. Freeman before him," she said. "I am in training to be a psychiatrist myself. For now, my official title is junior administrator."
"So is there any rule against spending time with a patient?" Stahl asked. "In the services, there are always rules about fraternization…"
"Not at all," Fiona said, acting surprised and flattered. "Even between doctors and patients, the rules are usually applied only for those under the doctor's direct care."
"Good, and commendable," Stahl said. "Would you like to have a drink with me?"
And Fiona blushed as she nodded.