Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

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It had been a long night for me. One moment I was walking up the steps to my orphanage, the next being carted off into an ambulance in flashing blue and red lights. I can't recall very well what happened exactly that brought me here - the Behavioral Health Pavilion at Nationwide Children's - but I know for certain I didn't like where I was now. The room I was in was clad in a pretty baby blue with soft white carpeting. It held very little, a small white couch I was hunched over, waiting anxiously for my case provider to see me, and a few large cushioned sofa chairs tucked up in the corners. Every few minutes, my tired eyes would wander over to the door, securely closed to keep me from walking free. A narrow window was built in the door, a peep hole of sorts for me to see any approaching people. Right now, a nurse stood guard outside, waiting until the doctor showed up.

If it weren't for the circumstances I was presently in, I'd have thought the small room absolutely gorgeous. I wouldn't have minded sitting on the couch I was on, my hands cupped underneath my chin with my palms facing up as my right leg trembled and my stomach felt light in anxious fear. I tried not to look around the room, staring vacantly at the white carpet floor. A small dull pain throbbed at my forehead, exhaustion heavy in my tiny bones.

Sitting there, alone in that room, prisoner to wherever I was, my mind contemplated the events of the night. Things had been fine and so unsuspecting to what happened, a terrible occurrence I couldn't remember. Blue and red lights, and loud wailing sirens lit up my night, and then the jarring sounds of people calling my name, asking, demanding to state my name and date of birth. Nurses, I realized too late, and then, two hours in a room full of chaos.

I was given a wristband to identify who I was. A doctor, a man who promised I was in good hands, took my vitals and some of my blood. A kind-faced nurse, now standing outside this room, aided me into a loose fitting gown before taking me to collect a sample of my urine. Harry, that was his name, was patience and kind while he assisted me in the bathroom. He tried making small-talk with me, his voice friendly and rich with care, yet I refused to say anything, faint with fear.

He took me back to the emergency ward, and closing it off, allowed me a small respite. I had slept for a couple of hours before he roused me, explaining softly I was being moved elsewhere for more deeper care. There, after guiding me into a wheelchair, he took me to this room, reassuring me all was well.

"We're going to find someone to come talk to you," I remember him saying before he left. "It'll be alright. You can relax now."

It was impossible to relax. The longer I sat here waiting, now going on past an hour, the more nerve-racking I became. I was tried, scared, and uptight. It felt like I was sitting on glass, my body prepared to bolt if need be, my muscles aching in dreaded anticipation. I wanted sleep, needed it badly, but there was no way I could bring myself to do so, not until I had a better picture of what was going on. I didn't trust this environment, full of faces and people I didn't know.

The muffled sound of voices caught my attention. A stream of fear crept down my back at realizing that it was probably the doctor I'd been waiting for to come see me. The thought of seeing another new face caused me to pull down on my lower lip, twisting it nervously between my thumb and index finger. I wasn't ready to see anybody, didn't want to.

The voices stopped, and a quiet knock rapped at the door to announce the newcomer before the door clicked open. My blue eyes stayed fixed towards the ground, and I felt my body stiffen even more.

"Good morning," the person greeted affectionately.

The voice, male, sounded gentle and calm. It was deeply smooth with hints of a velvety British accent, his tone and volume soft enough to be heard. They sounded professional, sturdy, and warm-hearted. Well-collected, cultured, but most importantly, considerate to the position I was in.

I didn't look up at him yet.

The man, Dr. Thomas Hiddleston, grinned at me warmly, and taking a few steps further into the room, slowly sank down in one of the sofa chairs. He made himself comfortable, crossing one leg over the other, his white coat straining over his lanky, lean figure. He let a few brief moments of quiet grow between us.

"How are you doing?" he finally asked.

I let go of my lower lip. My eyes stayed downcast, my throat tightening.

"I've been told you had quite the evening," he said quietly. "I'm sorry for what you've been through."

He sounded apologetic. I didn't like it, the way he spoke in a low murmur so abjectly. It made my tightly sealed lips fall into a frown I didn't want him to see. My teeth clenched, my jaw hardening with annoyance. It didn't feel right, for him to be sorry about what happened to me when I didn't even know myself what had befallen me.

I shot a look at him, a hard glinting glare that should've smoked him into ashes. He only grinned at me in return, introducing himself with, "I'm Dr. Hiddleston."

Dr. Hiddleston, as he shared and presented on the coat he wore, was seated comfortably across from me. My hard glare shifted at the surprising and alluring sculpture of him. His body was firm and taunt, covered by the medical scrubs he wore underneath his coat. His face, painted with softness, was fresh and charming, his blue eyes holding care and kindness behind them. His mouth was curved into a naturing smile, outlined by reddish-pink lips.

He looked incredible, his handsome looks resembling what older chicks would say to be that of a fine glass of wine. To me and my younger perceptive, he looked like a charming prince, a fairytale brought to life.

"Are you feeling better?"

My moment of astonishment disappeared, and just like that, I was back to staring at the floor. I quickly reminded myself that looks could be deceiving, especially nice ones, and that he was was a complete stranger to me. A doctor with a fancy name.

Dr. Hiddleston waited for a reply for a few minutes before clicking open his pen and flipping open the file he'd brought in. I heard the soft scribble of pen on paper, then the turning of papers. I scowled at him.

"It's been a rough night for you," he glanced up from the file. "I won't keep you long, dear. I just want to go over a few things with you real quick, if that's alright with you. It says here," he squinted to read the fine print of the recorded notes of my admission, "you were brought in for what appeared to be because of some very bad anxiety. Is that correct?"

Again, he waited for my response. I looked back at him, unsure on what he was talking about. Anxiety? Maybe. I don't know! How was I suppose to give him a proper answer when I still didn't know why I was here in the first place. I didn't know anything on what led me here, the missing puzzle pieces of this scary mystery no where within reach of my missing memory. It frustrated me that I couldn't remember. It frightened me.

"Luna?" he prompted quietly.

I gave a shrug of my shoulders.

"You don't know if it was anxiety or not that landed you here?"

Again, I lifted my shoulders with a shrug.

It was quiet for a moment. He was probably disappointed with my lack of response or silently mad at my poor display of respect towards him. It was a fairly simple question that required only one of two answers. A yes or a no, but for me, an uncaring shrug.

"Do you remember what might've brought you here?"

Nope!

I shook my head sadly.

Dr. Hiddleston went back to writing, clearly noting down my limited responses. "Nothing at all?" he said again.

Another shake of my head.

More pen on paper.

I started hating the couch I was on. I felt like a true prisoner undergoing interrogation at the hands of a very demanding officer. I waited for him to continue.

"Well," he peered up at me, "Your charts, along with the behavior you showed, hinted at what appeared to be a very bad and upsetting anxiety attack. Do you know what that is?" I nodded curtly.

"Do you recall feeling nervous, any uncomfortable sense of panic or unexplainable doom? Sweating, heart pounding, shaking, or tightness of chest? Difficulties breathing?" He rattled off slowly, his pen moving with every shake of my head. "Did you feel weak or really really tired?"

I feel weak and tired right now. Listening to him while stuck in this room as he diagnosed what happened bothered me more than it should have. Just thinking of those things, the shortness of breath, the uncontrollable shaking, and the painfully racing heart, happening to me sounded awful and full of unpleasantries. If I had gone through that, how did I even survive? Those things combined sounded like a death sentence, bound to upset any person's sense of well being and heath. My, if I had that experience, with all those occurrences, my poor feeble body should've broken into shambles.

Most of the responses - a shake of my head in whirling confusion - felt forced and muted, and I felt that Dr. Hiddleston was taking notes with an air of caution. For now, he was probably just jolting down whatever I said to make things as easy as possible between this small interaction, but I wouldn't have been surprised if he didn't believe a thing I said. He'd reevaluate my notes and see some dots that didn't match up to the storyline of whatever he heard about me. He'd probably re-interrogate me later as well.

The thought of having to see Dr. Hiddleston again did little to calm the agitation inside me. I wanted him to shut up already and let me leave. I didn't like it here, in this unknown place and room with this weird stranger sitting no less than a couple feet from me, studying me like some mysterious parasite. I really wanted to crawl away.

"Luna?"

The sharp call of my name snapped me out of the daze I had gone into unconsciously. Taken by surprise, I couldn't help the small jump of fear my body did, nor the mean growl of, "What?" from leaving my mouth.

Dr. Hiddleston didn't seem bothered by my nasty remark, and frowning worriedly, asked if I was okay. "You went somewhere for a moment. Where'd you go?"

I bite the inside of my cheek to keep myself from speaking aloud again. I glowered at him rudely. I wasn't going to say anything else to him. I had spoken enough for one day.

Dr. Hiddleston waited a few moments longer to see if I'd say anything, yet after awhile, he called a retreat and looked back at the clipboard. He wrote something on it quickly before he starting talking again.

"I understand that things might be very overwhelming right now and that's fine," he said softly. "It's perfectly normal the way you feel, which if I'm to guess, you feel like complete trash. I would share with you what happened to you, or what might've occurred, but I think you'd appreciate a soft bed and some z's more right now. Does that sound good? A nice little nap before I see to you again and go any further?"

I nodded, sitting up straighter at the mention of going to bed. I don't know how my eyes were still open and I hadn't collapsed to the floor in overspent exhaustion. If things had continued and my lack of sleep was kept disregarded, I'd have happily and helplessly exploded into a fit of crying demand. This doctor wasn't a complete idiot, and bless his heart, saw the silent plead in my eyes crying for sleep.

"Please," I weakly said, affirming his suspicions of my sleep-deprivation.

Dr. Hiddleston smiled, and standing up, the clipboard tucked underneath his arm, ducked his head out of the room to call for the nurse on duty. There was some hushed conversation between them before the door was opened wider to let Harry in.

"I hear someone needs a nap," he smiled at me. I stood up, nodding.

He gestured for me to follow him, and together we left the blue room behind. Dr. Hiddleston stood by the door, watching on as we got further and further until we came to a pair of elevators. While we waited to go in, I sent him a quick look back.

Dr. Hiddleston caught my eye, nodding encouragingly. A quit ding! sounded and with a gentle prod, Harry guided me into the elevator. Before the doors closed completely, I saw Dr. Hiddleston disappear back into the blue room.

*

~unedited

AN: Hi!

This is something I've been working on for awhile now. (I may have had this in the works for about a year now....) I'm really excited to have the first part out, so please, let me know what you all think. And if you're enjoying it, let me know! (I may or may not have a few more chapters.....)
-Anyasimon63

Chapter Text

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I was taken to the third floor. 

We stood in quiet, Harry and I, neither of us engaging in any sort of small talk while we rode the elevator up to the floor. I appreciated Harry's silence towards me, hoping he'd speak to me only for assistance purposes or if I talked to him first. No elevator music came from the speakers above - thank the heavens - and I watched as the button display switched in numbers the closer we got to our floor. 

Ding! 

The elevator stopped, the doors sliding open seconds after the ding. Harry stepped out first, gesturing encouragingly for me to join him before starting down the floor. I walked next to him, my senses and attention on full alert to take in my new surroundings.

This floor, much to my surprise, was brightly colored and themed in a mix of bright and cheery blues. Silhouette art of butterflies and nature, little birds, trees, and flowers, decorated the white walls and hallways, creating a happy and lively aesthetic that served to brighten and amaze the lowest of spirits and minds. I was taken by amazement by it's brightness and welcomeness. I hadn't expected this, ready to be pushed into an isolating cell of barren walls and company. 

Harry guided us onward. We soon came to a little nurse's station that was curved into the hallway's path, adjoining the hallway to another down the opposite direction. It was vacant, the station, and Harry quickly went behind it to pick up a cream colored folder, which I knew undoubtedly to be my paperwork. 

"Alright," Harry said when he came back around to me. "Let's go find you a room."

I followed next to him as he took me down one of the hallways. We went past a number of doors that lined up along the hallway, each spaced out evenly and all of them closed. Next to each door, a small plank numbered each room and it clicked in my head that these were where patients stayed. 

I tried to get glimpses of the rooms to see if there were people behind the doors. I failed to see anything, quickly realizing how rude and impolite I was being trying to look into the privacy of other's sanctuary. I wouldn't want someone poking their noses in whatever room I was going to stay in. Gosh, the idea of it would frighten me greatly and I'd probably scream bloody murder. 

We came to the end of the hallway and turning down another one, saw more patient rooms. Glancing ahead, I saw another nurse in the distance walking towards us. When he passed, a young man in light blue scrubs with brown hair in a tussled quiff of sorts and bright blue sky eyes, Harry greeted him politely.

"Louis," he said as we passed.

"Harry," he returned, sending the both of us a quick grin. 

Louis went down the hall, and looking back at him behind my shoulder, saw him turn the corner and disappear. I focused back in front of me to save from tripping over my feet. 

We approached the end of the hall and thinking we'd be making another turn, was caught short when Harry stopped us in front of a door along the left wall. I read the plate, patient room BH8A.14 , confused by the oddity of the labeling. It made me feel like it had been written in some secret coding, and it probably was, something only the nurses and doctors could understand.

Harry opened the door, holding it for me to enter. Nervously, I glanced down the way we'd come and to the other side of me where I saw the start of another hallway head in the opposite direction. My fingers clamped together in worry and nerves.

"Come on," Harry encouraged, smiling. "I think I can hear the bed calling your name. In we go, dear."

I crossed into the small room, pausing to take in the interior of it. It was very different to what was outside the room and a sense of discomfort and unease started to gnaw at my stomach as I took in the room.

The room was small. Unhappily small. It was restrainedly small and had room for only the barest of necessities. A L-shaped couch, which was obviously suppose to be the bed Harry had spoken of, was placed up against the wall and underneath the window looking out over the place. There was a small cut out for what housed a simple toilet and sink, a little curtain the only divider between the rest of the room. There was a small desk, small and squished next to the bed, accompanied by a blue chair. 

This place really liked the color blue, for just like the room I'd been in previously with Dr. Hiddleston and the outside hallway, so too was there blue in this room. The couch was a dark ocean blue, the walls matching with it perfectly. The shades of the room over the window were white and the hard tile floor was a light stone grey. The only thing not blue were the white cushions on the couch, designed with the rainbow of little flying butterflies. 

"What is this place?"

"This is the YSCU," he replied.

I blinked at him, still in the dark. 

"The Youth Crisis Stabilization Unit," he clarified. 

Oh. 

The reality of what he said slowly sank through me and I tried to decipher what those words implied. Crisis. Something very bad happens to people that come on this floor. Stabilization. The people are taken care of until they're well enough again and not losing their head in whatever battles they've fought. Was that me right now? Was I one of those persons that had gone through a very bad crisis and now needed other people to come patch me up? Was that why Dr. Hiddleston and Harry were attending to me? Because I'd lost my way in some very bad situation? 

While I pondered over Harry's words, I drifted over to the couch to sit down. Harry observed my movements. The couch was strong and firm and really uncomfortable. I did a little bounce to test its rough durability. It hurt my bum. 

"I know it's not the comfiest of beds," Harry sat down in the desk chair. "They serve more for safety and outlet purposes. You'll get use to it though. Eventually." 

I scooted up the bed so I was tucked up in the corner of the L, my back coming to rest against one of the white butterfly cushions. I stared back at him, mute and quiet, waiting for whatever he did next. 

Harry, after a few quiet minutes, rose to his feet again. "I'll go get you a blanket." 

He exited the room and I looked at the door for a few moments. I hadn't heard any locking sounds, so if I wanted, I could've made a run for it. However, glancing down at myself, I saw I was in no condition to do so. I was too heavily burdened with sleepiness and the hospital gown I wore gave me the looks of a lunatic. I didn't want to be seen as a run-away lunatic. I would also fail to get very far before I was caught up to and brought back. I was never one to set myself up for failure. 

The idea of fleeing was shaken from my head and getting off the couch, I went into the bathroom. Closing it with the curtain, I flicked on the sink before using the restroom. A flush later, I was washing my hands with foamy hospital soap and dapping my face wet with a rough paper towel. 

I went back to the couch and found Harry back in the desk chair. A white hospital blanket was placed on his lap, and when I sat down again, he came over to give it to me. I accepted it gracefully. 

He turned to the desk again and picked something up with his fingers, a small white wristband. "May I?" he asked softly before I nodded, and holding my wrist out, let him snap the new wristband on.

"Alright," he brushed his hands together. "I think you're all set for a nap."

"Water?"

"Water?" he quirked an eyebrow at me playfully. 

"Please?"

Harry got up to get me some water, soon returning with a small cup with a straw in it. He handed it to me, and I wasted not a second before drinking the whole thing dry. Harry gave me an impressed look before asking if I'd like more, which I nodded to eagerly. 

He got me another cup and I drank about a half of it before it was placed to the side on the desk. "I'll come check on you in a little while, okay?" Harry told me as he unfolded the white blanket before handing it to me. I nodded understandingly and in a very quiet voice that should've been impossible to hear, thanked him. 

"You're very welcome, sweetheart." 

Harry left the small room, a small click sounding after him. I cuddled the white blanket close, pressing myself back into the corner of the L. I curled my knees beneath me to position myself into a comfortable ball. Closing my eyes, I counted my breathing, letting the world slowly disappear around me. 

It wasn't long before I was out. 

*

My little nap, which lasted well over a couple of hours, soon concluded and I was awoken by the gentle hands of Harry. 

I woke up groggily, squinting up at Harry as he leaned over me, calling my name quietly. At first, I didn't recognize him, but after a few loud yawns and some stretching, my fuzzy brain unclouded and I sent him a little drowsy grin. My eyes felt heavy, but I quickly rubbed the sleep from them, helping to wake myself further. 

Harry allowed me a little time to wake up some more before helping me get ready to venture out of the room. I did a little walk about the room, going to the door and back a few times, splashed a little sprinkle of cool water over my face, and had the rest of the water that was sitting on the desk. Harry offered me a small bowl of cut up apple slices to which I throughly enjoyed and devoured.

While I munched on the apple slices, Harry explained to me what was going on. Dr. Hiddleston was going to see me again, as he said he would, and my heart deflated slightly at dreading whatever news he'd share with me. I didn't want to know what had happened to me to land me here, yet I did at the same time. There were no doubts that he wanted to ask me more questions that I knew I'd have to answer, my sleep deprivation no longer a handicap now that I have gotten some energy back in me. Harry promised he wouldn't do anything that would overwhelm me and if things seemed like they weren't going too well, I would be allowed to come to my room. 

I ate the last of my slices. Handing the bowl to Harry, he lead me out through the door and back into the hallway. It was the same as before, quiet and still, and I seriously wondered if there were others on this floor with me. Getting into the elevator, I watched as we descended down to the first floor. 

Harry took me back down to the blue room and knocking, a voice behind the closed door called out, "Come in!"

I was waved into the room where the sight of Dr. Hiddleston greeted me. I shuffled over to the white couch, sitting down with a soft plop before glancing over at Harry. 

"You got this," he told me reassuringly. "I'll come get you as soon as you're ready."

I frowned when he closed the door, leaving me, once again, alone with Dr. Hiddleston. I glanced at him quietly, my mind automatically screaming to go back to bed. He smiled at me warmly, letting a little silence occupy the space between us before saying anything.

"Did you have a nice nap?" he asked me eventually.

I nodded, silent.

"Do you feel a little better?" 

Again, I nodded.

"Dream any nice dreams?" he looked at me, patiently waiting for me to use my voice and stop the quiet game I had going between us. I only shrugged.

"I hope you're feeling better," he crossed his legs, leaning back in the sofa chair. "I feel like if we all had one nap a day, we'd feel a lot more better with ourselves. We wouldn't be such sour lemons towards each other. Little babies are so very lucky to have that luxury." 

Yet they still throw hissy fits and cry like no tomorrow, I retorted back silently. I clutched my jaw, slowly becoming rigid in my seat. I didn't want to be here. This new interrogation, which wouldn't reveal anything new, felt very much like our first meeting together. Him, eager to get to know and spill my troubles to him, and moi, still stubbornly afraid to say a single thing to him. Boy, was this going to get tiring if I was to see him again and again like this. He'd babble on, I'd just sit stone solid, my lips unmoving. 

Is this what he had to deal with on a daily basis? Trying to talk to patients too stubborn to do anything but smolder at him with quiet contempt and refusal to do anything. If I was in his shoes, I'd just call it quits and find another job worth my while. He must have quite the resilience and patience to deal with whatever went on in this place. Poor guy.

"What time is it?"

The question caught me totally unaware, having spoken to him so unexpectedly. Looks like that little nap loosened my tongue more than I thought. 

Dr. Hiddleston looked at his wristwatch, answering smoothly, "It's just around twelve in the afternoon. Say, have you had anything to eat yet?"

"How long have I been here?" I ignored his question.

He gave me a sympathetic grin. "You were admitted into our care at about three in the morning. It wasn't until around seven I came to see you. The day isn't even halfway done, yet you've already had quite the day. I'm sorry about that, Luna."

I glanced down at the white carpet, silence settling between us again. I heard the faint sound of pen on paper, my frown sharpening as he made more notes about me. I felt like I had been placed underneath a microscope, and he, with his pretty blue eyes, was looking down at me, inspecting me in determination to learn more about why I was here and who I was. I wanted to smash that microscope to pieces.

"Have you eaten anything today yet?" he asked again after he was done writing.

I nodded. Silent.

"What did you have?"

"Some apple slices."

"Anything to drink?"

"Water."

It was quiet for a few moments. 

"Would you like anything else to eat?" he asked. "Maybe a drink of some kind? Water? Tea? Juice?"

I narrowed my gaze at him. "Last I checked, you were going to tell me what the hell was wrong with me and why I was brought here, not offer me a menu of foods to dine on like I'm sitting in some luxury restaurant and not some insane asylum."

Dr. Hiddleston listened to my surprise snap of words, and if I'd been in his place, I'd have become furious at the nasty remark. He just sent me another sympathetic look, his mouth falling into a sad smile. "If you do want anything to eat later, don't be afraid to let me know, or Harry." He picked up his pen again, scribbling down another note.

I stared begrudgingly at him, waiting for him to tell me what I wanted to hear. What I'd come down to hear, to learn what was wrong with me. The sooner, the better, the faster I could get back home.

"Are you sure you wouldn't like anything to drink?" he looked up from the clipboard, his pen freezing momentarily. 

"Just end my misery already and tell me what's going on," I snapped.

Dr. Hiddleston adverted his attention and went back to writing. It was once again quiet between us. I saw the pen he gripped, a simple black, move back and forth as he wrote on the clipboard perched on his knee. It was very possible he was writing down how mean and rude I was being towards his offers of kindness; the idea of being pictured as an ill-tempered girl of society didn't sit well with me. 

It startled me into mumbling a quiet, "Sorry" to Dr. Hiddleston, my checks flushing in an apologetic color of shame. 

"Don't be," he paused in his note-taking, and placing the pen and board to the side, turned his attention on me. "You don't need to apologize for anything. I understand there's a lot going on at the moment, too much really, and you're having a hard time processing everything. You must have a lot of feelings going on through you."

He wasn't mad at me, no, he was more worried and apprehensive than anything else. I hope he wasn't trying to fool me into thinking he was alright with my behavior when he really wasn't. I couldn't afford him messing with my emotions right now. I didn't know what my emotions were, nor how I was suppose to feel about where I was at the moment.

I waited for him to speak again, determined to stay quiet until prompted to speak. 

"I know you want to know what's going on, or in the very least, what happened to bring you here in the middle of the night," he calmly started, watching me with tender concern, "I've already hinted earlier that you displayed the behavior of experiencing a very unhappy anxiety attack. You didn't remember, though, having experienced it. As much as you're comfortable sharing, what do you remember of this incident? Or might recall remembering?"

My shoulders dropped, my respond plain and very lacking of any useful detail. I felt my head shake sadly as I spoke, "Absolutely nothing. One minute I'm heading home, the next waking up to a ceiling of flashing lights and shouting people. Really, that's all I have. It's like a slice of time was cut away from the night."

Dr. Hiddleston hummed quietly. "What do you mean by waking up?"

"I was unconscious."

Another hum, a flicker of eye movement to sneak a peek at the clipboard and notes written on my case before focusing again on me. I sat up a little more, my voice thinning with dread as I dared to ask him, "I was unconscious, wasn't I?"

He couldn't lie to me. A doctor could never lie to their patient. "No, you were never unconscious," he replied honestly. 

My eyelashes fluttered a few times in confusion, as if they could try and wipe away his answer like windshield wipers on a dirty car. My voice left me completely, and glancing down at my feet, felt horror nip at the tips of my fingers and toes. If I hadn't been asleep, why had I woken up then? I knew my situation was bad, yet now, with this new information, my situation had jumped up a notch. 

"You woke up," Dr. Hiddleston said, my eyes staring straight at him in fright, "just not in the way you thought you did. When you were first seen to, you were in a stupor of some kind. Paralyzed, unmoving, captive still to your spiraling mind and anxiety. You weren't in your body, mentally, hence why you believed to have gone unconscious. When you returned, you were finally in our care." 

I felt faint listening to him as he continued, muttering softly, "While you were being driven here in the ambulance, you were completely unresponsive. You had started crying at one point, yet you didn't say a word as to what triggered you into this dissociating crisis. Coming into our emergency ward, you were evaluated by a Dr. Cumberbatch, who noted you were in no heathy state of mind to do anything. When you did finally return to your senses, there you woke up again, your mind fully intact once more, but as you said, feeling very distraught because a slice of time had been cut away." 

I stared at Dr. Hiddleston stupidly, stunned dumb on the couch. Whatever he spoke of sounded absolutely terrifying, insane, and, most importantly, suddenly overcome with a surge of furious disbelief, utterly ridiculous. He wasn't a doctor at all. A madman on the loose, trying to play with me to join in his stupidity and lunacy. I didn't believe him. I couldn't believe him. He spoke nothing but nonsense! 

"I d-d-," I inhaled a tight breath, choking on my own weak attempt to speak again. "I d-d-don't believe you."

He sighed sympathetically. "I don't expect you to. Not yet, at least. I've just shared some very frightening news on your condition and the possible diagnosis to your mental well-being. A very unpleasant diagnosis that, unfortunately, can't be treated overnight."

"What diagnosis?"

"Dissociation Anxiety."

Silence. 

"What's that?" I asked weakly. 

Dr. Hiddleston rose from his chair suddenly, and I did a little jump at the motion, watching closely as he approached the closed door, and opening it, poked his head out. Murmurs and whispers, then a quick thanks! before he turned his eyes back on me, a cup of water in his hand.

"Drink," he told me quietly. 

I accepted the cool drink, my lips latching around the purple straw. I had a couple of sips before asking him, with a voice cleared down by the relinquishing beverage, "D-D-Dissociation A-Anxiety. W-Wha-," I was cut off by an unexpected tickle in my throat, coughing.

Dr. Hiddleston sat back in his sofa chair, waiting patiently until my coughing spasm ended before answering. "It's what you went through last night, eh earlier this morning. I would - and will - tell you more, but I don't think now is an appropriate time to do so. For now," he clicked open his pen and got his clipboard, "we need to take things one step at a time. Tomorrow is another day."

I frowned at him, disappointed that now that I knew what happened, or what he thought to have happened, he wouldn't elaborate on it further. The diagnosis intrigued me and I wanted to know more about it. I wanted to know just how bad of a state I was in, how long it would take to recover, and what I would undoubtedly face within the next couple of days. Who would take care of me? What treatment would I receive? What would happen to me?

Dr. Hiddleston told me to finish my drink before Harry was called in to escort me out and back to my room. The door was held open for me in a gesture of kindness, and as I stepped out the door with Harry, Dr. Hiddleston offered me a smile of farewell and well-wishing. 

"Oh!" he exclaimed just as we turned to start over to the elevators. "Harry, get her something to eat! And water! Lots and lots of water." Harry gave him a thumbs up before slipping back into the room, the door closing securely behind his white coat. 

We came to the elevators, standing side by side together quietly. I didn't feel confident yet to share with Harry what happened or the diagnosis Dr. Hiddleston gave me. He probably already knew of my condition. He probably knew way more than me actually, which wasn't surprising, considering his job occupation of being a nurse who specialized in dealing with experiences similar to mine. 

I could've asked him what my diagnosis was. I didn't. I just waited next to him quietly, counting the seconds before the elevator opened. He probably had orders not to speak of the matter to me, giving Dr. Hiddleston a chance to do his job. Maybe after I learned more about it, then I could go to Harry. 

Ding!

The elevator opened and Harry encouraged me forward. "Come on," he said kindly, stepping onto it with a smile, "let's go see what we can find to eat for lunch."

My stomach did a little growl.

Harry chuckled. 

Embarrassed, and hugging my stomach, I joined him and a moment later, the doors closed to take us to our next destination.

*

~ unedited 

❤️

Chapter Text

^

I had lunch back in my room, a simple sandwich with a side of mixed fruits and a small chocolate chip cookie for dessert. Harry brought me a pitcher of ice chilled water that I could refill on my own with my little cup. 

While I ate, I thought of my diagnosis. It didn't sound fun to have, Dissociation Anxiety, and I wanted to have a dictionary on me so I could look up the meaning behind those two words. Clue the puzzle pieces together, try to figure things out before Dr. Hiddleston shared more with me on my condition. 

The rest of the day, after my little lunch, went by quickly. I entertained myself with napping and creating up daydreams in my head on what would happen to me next. In one senecio, I was being heavily medicated to keep my mind intact and from falling apart, Dr. Hiddleston failing to reassure me it was for my own good. I was begging, crying, tired of being forced to ingest pills that only made me madder and more unstable. It got so vivid, this awful senecio, I stopped it before it could get worse, frightened by the possibility of it actually occurring in real life. It left me feeling cold and anxious all over again. 

Harry came back in to deliver my dinner meal. Having lost my appetite because of my scary daydream, I couldn't really enjoy the chicken and salad, only managing a few bits before giving up. Harry didn't mind, and taking the tray back, left me again in the small room. I hugged myself in the corner of the L bed, my mind starting to rewind back to before I was brought here. 

My thoughts were interrupted by Harry returning to help me get ready for bed. I was given a new set of clothes, a new gown that was baby pink with little butterflies on it, and some white cozy socks. I quickly washed my face and used the restroom before taking some sips of water and crawling back into the bed. 

Before leaving, Harry asked if I wanted the window closed, to which I shook my head at. It didn't matter if the window was open or closed, sleep would find me either way. "Alright," he went over to the door, and looking over his shoulder, said, "May you have the sweetest of dreams. If you need anything, just give a little holler and I'll be here."

It took awhile for me to fall asleep. Curling up on the bed, huddled closely together with the white blanket, my mind tried to think of what brought me here. I had been honest in saying I only remembered, briefly, the first few moments before my crisis, where I was heading up the steps to my orphanage before "waking" up in the hospital. What I was doing before the orphanage I struggled to retained, cloudy with jarring and unclear thoughts. 

It frustrated me, not remembering, and it hurt too, my mind becoming too overwhelmed to think of anything else after that. I fell asleep soon after, my thoughts vacant of thinking more of my diagnosis like I'd wanted before drifting off to the land of sleep. 

*

I was awoken by the quiet voice of Harry. 

"Luna, sweetie," I heard him say through muffled hearing, "it's time to get up. Rise and shine!"

I grumbled something inaudible, a tired "Go away....", which earned me a warm-hearted chuckle. 

"I'm sorry, but we got to get the day going," he whispered. 

"F-Five more minutes," I mumbled against the white blanket tucked underneath my cheek. "P-Please."

"Up, up, sleeping beauty," he ordered me softly, a smile in his voice. I grumbled again at him, whining.

He got me up and watching me like a hawk, I dragged myself over to the tiny restroom, drawing the curtain shut between us. I quickly used the restroom, mumbling to myself the wish for a nice warm shower. Popping out through the curtain, I asked if I was allowed one before starting the adventures of the day.

"Let's just do for a nice change of clothes and some breakfast for now," Harry answered, and disappointed, I shuffled back into the restroom to change into the new clothes he handed me. A few minutes later, we were leaving the small room in search of my morning meal.

Harry took me to the elevator and we traveled down to the lower floor where the cafeteria was located. Stepping out of the elevator, he directed me down a few brightly lit corridors decorated in bright colors and nature art. As we walked through, I noticed a few rooms here and there, and curious, I asked Harry what they were. 

"Those are conference rooms, love," he explained. "This one here," we passed another room with closed doors, "is a training room. This space is dedicated for staff personnel to expand on their teaching and skills, and in the conference rooms, meetings are held to discuss a variety of matters." 

We came to another room before coming to the cafeteria, and walking past, saw that the door to the room was wide open. Inside, I caught the figure of Dr. Hiddleston sat in a chair, conversing with another man across from him and the confidence table separating them. I quickly recognized the man to be the doctor who'd first seen me on my arrival here, the so called Dr. Cumberbatch. 

We entered the cafeteria through a white single door, stepping into a wide open space that was simply made up of white small tables and chairs. The room was designed with light wooden walls and bright green colored furnishing that contrasted well together. Along one long wall, I spotted the food counter set up in a buffet style, a couple of people, nurses, waiting patiently to be served. 

"Find a seat," Harry told me. 

I found a table near the back of the cafeteria, tucked up in a corner. I didn't want anyone seeing us, feeling oddly out of place. Making sure I was seated and comfortable, Harry asked me what I would like to eat. 

I shrugged, not caring. "Anything's fine." 

"I'll be right back. Stay here, don't move," he said before I watched him head off to get my food. As soon as he was out of my sight, my eyes jumped over to the entrance, guard-less and free from stopping me from leaving if I wanted.

The idea of running was squashed when a pair of nurses appeared and sat down at a table right by the door. I sighed disappointedly, and looking elsewhere, waited until Harry came back, quietly bored and annoyed. 

Harry returned and placing a tray down on the table between us, handed me a small plate of scrambled eggs with a side of bacon. He had his own meal, a bowl of yogurt topped with oats and fruits. 

I wrinkled my nose at the yogurt.

"Everything alright?" Harry asked, picking up a spoon to start dining on his breakfast. I quickly smiled to cover up my disgust.

"Everything's fine."

The first half of our meal together was spent in silence. Harry ate his yogurt while I scooped up eggs with the end of my fork. Once the eggs were gone, I turned to the bacon. 

Tearing it with my fingers, I asked, "What's this place?"

"It's the cafeteria."

"I'm well aware of that," I took a bite of my bacon. "The YCSU. What's that?"

I received the same response as I did yesterday, a simple, "It stands for the Youth Crisis Stabilization Unit."

"The Youth Crisis Stabilization Unit," I repeated slowly. "What happens there?"

"We take care of children struggling with immediate crisis."

"For how long?"

Harry took another bite of his parfait. "It depends on the severity of the situation and the child's condition. On average, a length's stay is about three to four days, longer if necessary for more complex care. Why?"

I broke off a piece of bacon. "How long might I stay here?"

Harry sighed. 

"I don't know."

"Why am I here?"

"To receive help."

I fiddled with the small piece of bacon. "What kind of help?"

"Specifically speaking," he started, "that's up to your doctor to determine. Primarily speaking though, we're going to help you figure out what started your crisis in the first place and hopefully get you to understand it a little better. Then, we'll introduce you to different ways in which this crisis can be avoided again, interventions to help work through your anxiety before things can escalate again to this level. And," he dropped his spoon into his now empty bowl, "lastly but not least, most importantly, find you the appropriate care going home."

"And this all is suppose to happen within three to four days?" 

"On average, that's the case."

"Could I go home sooner?"

Harry looked at me for a moment, quiet. Then, after wiping the corners of his mouth with a napkin, softly said, "With your case, it's very unlikely." 

"And might I stay longer?"

"That's for Dr. Hiddleston to say, not me, sweetie." Harry tossed his used napkin onto the tray, glancing down at my plate. "Finished?"

I nodded and Harry got up to clear the tray away. Coming back, I stood up from the table to follow him out of the cafeteria. 

*

An hour later, Harry was taking me to Dr. Hiddleston. 

I wasn't taken to the blue room like the day before. Instead, I was led to another room on the same floor a few hallways down. 

"Where are you taking me?" I asked Harry as we walked through a corridor. 

"To see Dr. Hiddleston," was all he said. 

We came to a door, and while Harry knocked, I saw a small sign next to the door that read: Consult Room. 

Hadn't I already been in a consult room, the blue pretty one with the white sofa seats and couch? Why the change of scenery? What was wrong with that room now that I had to go to this room? 

"Luna?"

I jumped at Harry's voice. Blinking, I noticed the door was now open, and peeking further in, saw  Dr. Hiddleston peering out at me, waiting patiently. 

"S-Sorry," I mumbled, my feet shuffling me through the door embarrassingly. 

"It's alright," Dr. Hiddleston said, smiling at me kindly. 

Entering the room, I immediately noticed it was different from the blue one. It was larger, not by much, and instead of the walls being a pretty blue, were a cream clean white. One of the walls, the furthest one away from where I stood from the door, was a light pastel mint green, a little whiteboard hung on display. Instead of a couch, there were some white sofa chairs (three) that were tucked up along the walls; one was facing opposite right across from the door, the other two directly across from the green wall. 

"Please," Dr. Hiddleston motioned at one of the chairs, "have a seat." 

I choose the chair closet to the door and furtherest from him. Harry, receiving a small nod, shut the door with a quiet click! 

It was quiet for a moment. Dr. Hiddleston sat down, clasping his hands together over his crossed knees, dressed sharply in his white coat. I avoided acknowledging him right away, focusing on the green wall in front of me, admiring the pretty choice of color. It was prettier than the blue room. 

"Like what you see?" 

I looked away from the wall. "It's a very nice color."

"Ah," he sighed. "The simplest of colors can be the most charming. What's your favorite color, Luna?"

I shrugged. "I d-don't really know. I don't have a favorite color?" The last part wasn't suppose to come out sounding like a question, but it did, and as a response, Dr. Hiddleston tilted his head to the side slightly to say, "You don't have a favorite color?"

"I never considered having a favorite color. I don't see the point of it."

"Do you like pink?" 

I inwardly gagged. "No."

"Purple? Blue? Orange? Yellow? Red?" Looking over at the wall, he added, "Green?" 

"I d-don't know. Maybe? Um," I lost my voice for a moment, trying to decipher which color sounded the most pleasant, but coming up empty handed, went with, "W-What's your favorite color? Or colors?"

Dr. Hiddleston sent me a happy grin. "I've always been rather drawn towards blues and reds." 

"T-those are good colors to like."

It felt suddenly awkward, having asked him such a silly question. It sent a wave of nerves and ridiculousness through me. My face flushed with the smallest hints of pink.

"I-I'm sorry," I sputtered out quietly. "That probably sounded stupid of me, to ask what your favorite colors were. I made you answer your own question."

"Not at all," he reassured me lightly. "I'm happy you asked, really, so please, don't apologize. It gave us a nice little ice breaker to start our session together."

Our session together. It made me want to growl, go flying out of the chair I sat on and out of the hospital. The thought of running sounded nice, but realistically, I knew it wouldn't help me and really just make my situation worse. Dr. Hiddleston, along with Nurse Harry, would probably chase me down, reeulave me, and my time here would double. I really didn't want to stay here any longer than I already had to, and I definitely did not want to be further diagnosed than I already was with this dissociation anxiety or whatever he called it that he believes was the cupluirt to dragging me into this whole mess. I  wanted to go home.

It was quiet between us for a couple of minutes while Dr. Hiddleston waited patiently for me to speak again. Maybe, a long time ago in a far away land, I had had a favorite color, but here, in the present, as I sat avoiding Dr. Hiddleston's question, I had no favorite color. 

Dr. Hiddleston, as the silence grew and I sat refusing to answer his little ice breaker, gazed at me kindly. If I was in his shoes, I'd have left the room by now, but he sat in his chair comfortably, patiently waiting. 

Finally, when it felt like the chair underneath me was getting too hot to sit on - boy, was this the most intense silent game I've ever played - I decided to say something. 

"Would you settle with the answer of how I don't have a favorite color?" I asked, hoping this would end the ice breaker and we could move on. Dr. Hiddleston smiled at me softly.

"I can," he said, "for now."

I felt my eyebrows lift up slightly. Dr. Hiddleston chuckled.

"Don't worry, Luna. I'm sure by the end of our time together, we can find a color you'll enjoy."

What the heck did he mean by that? Last I checked, we weren't going on a rainbow hunt. We're trying to find what's wrong with me! Did not having a favorite color really add to my condition? A frown picked at my mouth, my eyes narrowing ever so slightly. 

"Thank you," I began,"for wanting to help me find my favorite color, but I much rather focus on the main reason I'm here, which last I checked, was because of some extreme anxiety." It was time to hurry this horror show up and get me home.

"Did you have a good night?" 

"Yes."

Dr. Hiddleston looked at his clipboard. "That's good."

There was a click of his pen, and he was writing something. I probably didn't need to guess what he was writing. My attitude so far wasn't too impressive, and with the heat in my voice with how I practically snapped at him just then, I wasn't surprised as to why he was asking how well I'd slept. Talk about getting up on the right side of the bed this morning.

Shame bloomed over my cheeks. "I'm sorry."

He looked up from his clipboard. "You've nothing to apologize for, Luna. Please, I understand you're still trying to adjust to what's happening. It'll take some time. I'm more than happy to wait."

"Wait?"

He grinned at my sympathetically. "Until you're ready or at least, a little more comfortable around me to open up, we won't do anything you don't want to. If it'll make you feel better, we can have this morning's session just be a silent retreat for you." 

"A silent retreat?" I asked, confused.

"We don't need to talk. We can just sit quietly together. If there's anything you'll like to talk about, I'll be an open ear."

"I thought you were going to tell me more about about what's wrong with me?" I tried not to let my irritation and disappointment show in my voice. "Whatever this anxiety thing is I have going on with me."

Dr. Hiddleston nodded slowly. "I would, but I don't think, from what I see, you're in the mindset to take in properly what happened just yet. I think it would be best if we got to know each other a little better before we go deeper into what happened to you." 

I did not like the sound of that. I did not want to know him better. I simply wanted out. Out of this chair, out of this green room, out of this loony bin. Out of where I currently found my life at the moment, quietly falling to pieces. I did not want to be here. 

Frustrated, disappointed, and unhappy, I decided against the idea of snapping at him again in demand of him telling me what was wrong with me. I did not want to appear more upset than I already was and cause more problems for us, which would only prolong my time in here with him. I sank back in my chair, deflating into myself. 

With my lips sealed, we fell again into silence. Dr. Hiddleston made himself comfortable, placing his clipboard aside and watching me closely. Again, I felt very much like a specimen placed forcefully underneath a microscope. I kept from looking at him, taking interest in the room surrounding us.

Green walls. Pretty, I thought, picturing the green in my own room back at my orphanage. It would've brightened my run-down room, which was ugly and plain. I tried not to think of the contrast between the two rooms, not wanting to upset myself again. I tapped my foot against the carpet, soundlessly soft and white. Around the room, my vision danced from corner to corner, wall to wall, door to whiteboard and back.

My eyes did laps around the room. On the third time around, I noticed no clock hung in the room. I glanced quickly at the door, wondering just how long I'd been here so far. It felt like I'd been here for an eternity already. 

Two more laps around the room, and I found myself looking back at Dr. Hiddleston. He smiled at me kindly.

Sighing, I rolled my eyes at him. 

He chuckled. 

I wanted to disappear into the chair. 

*

Finally, after what felt like forever, our session together concluded. Dr. Hiddleston, after jolting a few more things down on his stupid clipboard, rose from his chair, and I watched as he popped his head out to call for the nurse. A few moments later, Harry appeared. 

I stood up at his appearance, relived to finally leave. 

"I hope the rest of your morning goes smoothly," Dr. Hiddleston told me kindly as I went to stand by Harry's side, ready and anxious to leave. "I'll see you later, alright." 

Holding the door open for us, he watched Harry lead me away. I didn't look back, not caring at all to return his gesture of farewell. If I had it my way, that would've been the very last time I'd ever have to see him again. 

*

That was not the last time I saw him. 

Not even an hour after lunch, which consisted of another trip down to the cafeteria with Harry, I found myself back in the same room with him. In the same chair I had in the morning, I sat across from him, frowning unhappily.

He started the session with asking how the rest of my morning had gone. I refused to answer right away, stubbornly quiet, but eventually, after nearly ten painfully minutes of silence between us, mumbled out a quiet response I hope he'd not heard.

"I'm sorry," he said, leaning forward a bit, "what was that?"

"It was fine," I muttered again, a little louder this this time. 

"That's good to hear," he replied, grinning softly at me, "Anything fun you and Nurse Harry got up to?" 

I shrugged. "Not really."

"Not really?"

I shook my head.

"What did you do?"

"Nothing worth sharing with you."

Dr. Hiddleston chuckled. "Come now, there's got to be something you can tell me. Anything at all? One fun little thing you did?"

Not because I wanted to, but simply to shut him up on the subject matter, I hoped to satisfied him with a quick description of how Harry took me on a walk-about the place. Intrigued, Dr. Hiddleston asked specifically where we've walked and what we've seen. 

"We went to the cafeteria," I told him. 

"Did you like it?"

"It's a cafeteria."

"Did you like the food?"

"To keep me alive, yeah. For my own enjoyment, no." 

Dr. Hiddleston nodded, and changing the topic, asked how I liked my room. I shared it was decent enough for me to sleep in and how after my walk-about with Harry, I spent the rest of my morning in there. I didn't go further to say how I spent time glaring out the window at the outside world, feeling like a true cooped up prisoner.

After asking about the room, he then wanted to know what my interests were. For a moment, I immediately thought of saying that the only interest I had was getting out of this place and never coming back, but I held my tongue. I gave him a boring shrug, not seeing why he wanted to know my interests. Couldn't we just sit in silence like we did in the morning? 

"Well," he said when I stayed quiet, smiling. "I like taking walks and nature. Although I don't actually play any, I'm a sports person, great fan of soccer and tennis. I like the colors red and blue, as you know already, prefer tea over coffee, and I have an absolute love for my puppy pal Bobby, who I'm currently training to become a therapist support dog. However, the most important thing I love doing most is lending those who need it most a helping hand."

I kept from rolling my eyes at him again. I didn't care for what he was saying. I knew he was trying to make things more comfortable around us so I wasn't talking to a complete stranger, opening up about himself and giving me a loose snippet of his life. 

The last interest of his hit a nerve with me, cruelly reminding me of his role. He was here to help me, or, as in his own words, 'lend a hand to those who needed it most'. 

I did not need his helping hand. 

I did not want his helping hand or anything else he had to offer me.

I just wanted to go home.

Dr. Hiddleston sent me a kind look, waiting to see if I'd reciprocate his words with any of my own. I did nothing but sit in my chair, avoiding any eye contact with him.

Catching on quickly, seeing my avoidance, he picked up his clipboard to place on his knee. He started writing on it. Making more notes to add to my collection of growing observations to asses later, a surge of despair swept through me. 

Remembering Nurse Harry's words on how long a usual stay was here, I realized that with the rate we were going, I'd be here way longer than a couple of days. We were getting nowhere, stuck in stagnation. Dr. Hiddleston didn't seem to mind, though. So far, he'd shown nothing but patience, kindness, and compassion towards me, while I, on the other hand, displayed quite the opposite. How long would he tolerate my behavior before throwing in the towel? 

I hope he dealt with better patients than me. Patients that wanted help, craved his help, that let him work in peace and harmony, let him do his job and get his money's worth. Because, if we got real, I wasn't worth a dime of his time.

He had better things to do than be in this room with me. Whatever olive branch he wished to hold out to me, he should just snap in two. Let the branch fall and leave me be. End this silent game between us, throw me right out the door. Retract his helping hand and offer it to someone else who would actually accept it. 

I caught his eye, a pretty caring blue. 

His eyes, at the contact, softened at the edges. I quickly looked away, feeling stupid for looking, feeling as if I'd just exposed myself. I saw kindness in his eyes, a man who was living a good life and now was trying to make the lives of others better. 

I wonder, in that brief moment, where our eyes had looked at one another, what kind of blue he saw in mine. His, a bright vivid blue, while mine, a chilly ice blue, void of anything nice, sugar and spice replaced with coldness. Could colors reflect our inner reflections? 

If so, what did he see in me? 

*

~unedited 

Chapter Text

^

Two more days came and went. 

Little to no progress was made during those two days. I had gone through four more sessions with Dr. Hiddleston, silent, glaring, and detached to his efforts. 

Each session started and ended pretty much the same. I'd come in, brought in by Nurse Harry, plop down on the white chair, happily ignoring Dr. Hiddleston's greeting. He'd try to do an ice breaker with me, asking the most stupidest of questions in hopes of getting me to finally open up. 

I only gave him crickets.

The rest of the session was spent in utter silence. I kept my mouth tightly shut, zipped and under lock and key. I refused to budge under his surveillance, hating how he was able to give me his fullest attention without showing one bit of unsatisfactory. He just sat there in equal quietness, open to listen whenever I was ready to come round. 

At the end of our session, which was an hour later where no progress was made, he'd bide me a soft goodbye before Nurse Harry appeared to escort me back to my room. As soon as I was in the small confinement of the blue room, I made myself comfortable in solitude. Nothing bothered me in there. 

I was given a couple hours of retrieve before I was subjected to another session with Dr. Hiddleston. Each time I saw him, the chirping of crickets only got louder and more intense between us. 

It was on the third day that he finally decided enough was enough and stop the sound of crickets. 

I was just getting cozy with this routine when the rug was pulled out from underneath me. It nearly scared the crap out of me when I awoke to Dr. Hiddleston that morning. 

"Good morning!" 

My body jumped underneath the blanket wrapped around me, my eyes popping open at the unexpected appearance of him. Having expected Nurse Harry, the alarm that went through me at seeing an intruder in my room - Dr. Hiddleston beaming down at me brightly - propelled me against the corner of the bed, my body immediately going into a ball. A rude word I won't repeat slipped through my mouth, now wide awake. 

He quirked a brow at me, clicking his tongue in disapproval. "Now, where in the world did you hear that word?"

"What are doing here?"

Where was Nurse Harry? 

"I've come to get you ready for the day," he beamed. 

I stared at him for a long moment. My brain couldn't understand what was happening, failing to process the image of Dr. Hiddleston standing in my room. All my walls went up inside me, alarmed at the change. I had gotten use to Nurse Harry's calm voice rousing me each morning, so the fact it was Dr. Hiddleston's voice instead, bright and charming and ready to face the day, was very discerning to me. 

"Where's Nurse Harry?" I quietly asked, peering at the door. 

"He's been called to the main hospital to help in with some patients," Dr. Hiddleston explained, crossing his arms over his chest. "He'll be back this evening, and until then, it's you and me. Come on, up we go." 

He gestured for me to stand, watching me expectedly. I counted to a slow three before, sending him a look, I unpeeled myself from the bed. I mentally prepared to run if any sudden movements were made, hating the bucket of nerves that had just been dumped over my small frame.

"Go to the restroom," he directed. 

The kindness of his voice, which I had grown comfortable with - not enough to trust him yet - changed then suddenly, crisp and stern. I dared a look at him, regretting it immediately. His soft features, like his voice, turned cool, his eyes fixed on me pointedly, his lips pinched together in a straight line. 

His demeanor, one I had not expected to have seen, rattled my nerves. His good morning cheer was gone, replaced by whatever it was that now set him in such worrying looks. I didn't know how to respond properly, and wanting to get out of his proximity, went quickly into the restroom. I pulled the curtain shut. 

"There are some clothes on the sink cabinet," I heard him say. "Take a shower, not too long of one, and then, we'll head down for breakfast, alright." 

A silhouette appeared behind the light curtain, and surprised, I glanced down to see his shoes standing on the other side of the curtain. I shuffled back a few steps, not quite believing what was happening. 

Was he standing outside my bathroom? Did my eyes deceive me? Had Nurse Harry taken the disguise of Dr. Hiddleston? Was Dr. Hiddleston playing security guard with me? Why? Huh? What was going on here? 

If it weren't for the pulsing fear now running through me, I'd have told Dr. Hiddleston to piss off. However, my fear handicapped me, and feeling trapped, turned away to find the said clothes.

I quickly relieved myself of my bodily needs, making sure to turn on the sink faucet to hide the sounds of me peeing from reaching Dr. Hiddleston's ears. I washed my hands with soap and then picked up the bundle of clothes on the counter, unraveling them to see what they looked like. 

I sighed at the choice of clothes. A loose pair of leggings, a pretty green shirt with poka dots on them, and tucked underneath the pile, the familiar pair of hospital socks, and - a new thing, much to my surprise and horror - what appeared to be disposable underwear. There was no bra in sight.

Huffing my voice, I got on with my shower. Peeling the flimsy hospital gown off me, which served as my night pajamas, I bundled up the material before setting it next to my clothes to dispose of later. I quickly stepped into the shower, hating the fact Dr. Hiddleston was so close by, too close for comfort, for my bare skin's liking. 

Even worse, though, to add to my misery, there was no shower curtain. Because of this, with only the bathroom curtain dividing me and Dr. Hiddleston, I sped-ran through my shower. Less than ten minutes later and I had a towel wrapped around my dripping body, my skin slightly flushed from the warm water. 

After drying myself off, I got into my clothes, something that took more of a struggle than I'd anticipated. At first, I wasn't quite sure of the disposable underwear, not at all liking the flimsy papery material it was made of when I touched it. It felt like a nappy! Ick ! 

I didn't want that feeling wrapped around my bum. I wanted real undergarments that felt appropriate to my age, yet realizing I had nothing else to wear, slipped them up my legs. I got my leggings and shirt, feeling overwhelmingly exposed at how the shirt's material brushed against my bra-less top. 

I turned in the mirror. It should've felt refreshing to wear clothes again, get a break from hospital gowns, yet I felt suddenly unsure about myself. I didn't like the feeling of wearing a shirt with nothing underneath it. This underwear I wore hugged me too much, it didn't feel nice. The only thing I found decent to my liking were the socks that managed to keep my feet warm, which were a happy cool pretty mint.

My hair was a wet rat's mess. I scanned the sink, coming up empty-handed for a brush. I glanced to the side at the curtain, Dr. Hiddleston's silhouette gone. I picked up my dirty clothes, and opening the curtain ever so slightly, tentatively poked my head out.

Dr. Hiddleston was sitting in the blue chair by the desk. My L-shaped bed had been made up with the blanket folded on the edge with the pillow placed behind it. On the folded blanket, there was a small white hair-brush. 

I looked between the blanket and Dr. Hiddleston, debating on whether  or not to leave the safety of the bathroom. I didn't want him to see me in the clothes I wore, afraid his sight would go straight to my shirt. Perhaps, if I asked nicely, he could hand me the brush, and looking again between him and the wanted item, hoped he'd catch my unspoken wish.

He didn't.

"I'm afraid the brush doesn't have legs," he informed me. 

Smart-ass.

Disappointed, I approached the bed and blanket, quickly snatching up the stupid brush before bee-lining it back for the restroom. Safe behind the curtain again, I let out a sigh of relief.

"Did you forget your clothes?" 

I looked down, and saw, much to my dismay, I still had my dirty clothes balled up in my arms, which had unintentionally served as my shield against my shirt. Without thinking, I tossed them through the curtain. Dr. Hiddleston's tall silhouette reappeared behind the curtain, bending down to pick up the discarded items. I waited until he retreated again before I started on brushing my hair.

It took a minute to brush out my hair. It hurt, too. Waging a silent war against it, I tugged, yanked, and pulled, holding back any sounds of pain that tried to leave my mouth. When I was done, I found the brush covered in strands of yellow, my head aching from how intensely I'd used it. 

I quickly cleaned the brush out, tossing the strands in the small trash can. A quick brush of my teeth and wash of my face later, I was standing outside the bathroom, ready for whatever this day had in store. 

Dr. Hiddleston stood up at my freshly-cleaned appearance. "Ready to go?"

I shrugged my shoulders, crossing my arms over my chest.

"I'd appreciate a verbal answer," he said, causing me to look at him bewildered. A second of silence went by before he added, "A simple yes or no will do."

"Yes."

He nodded approvingly. "Good. Well, then. Shall we?" 

And with that said, we set off.

*

Our trip down to the cafeteria was unnerving . 

I was led into the elevator, Dr. Hiddleston swift and brief in how he spoke to me. "In," he told me, and in I went, the doors closing behind him as he pressed for the appropriate level. 

"Out," he gestured when the elevator dinged our arrival, the doors opening. He watched me closely as I stepped out, a small smile appearing when I waited for him to exit. A small gasp left my lips when he gently grabbed my hand, my body tensing at the contact.

"Come along," he started walking. 

We went down the same corridors that lead to the cafeteria, passing conference rooms as we went. Dr. Hiddleston said nothing, yet the grip he had on me moved me forward to keep up with his pace. His hand engulfed mine, locking perfectly between my bony fingers. I didn't like the feeling of it, his skin against mine, but scared at what he'd say if I told him, stayed quiet. 

We approached the cafeteria, and entering, Dr. Hiddleston brought me over to a table. He released my hand, which I quickly retracted, pulled out a chair, and, in a tone that spoke business, ordered me to sit. I did. A faint smile tugged at the corners of Dr. Hiddleston's mouth. 

"I'll be right back," he said, stepping away from the chair. "Be good for me. I don't think either of us would enjoy a wild goose chase this morning." He turned away to head over to where the food was stationed. 

He hit that last sentence on the head. If things weren't so tense, I'd have happily given him a goose chase. I glanced up at his retreating figure quietly, clasping my fingers against the edge of the table nervously. I started chewing the inside of my cheek. 

Holy moly, what was happening this morning? I really didn't like it. I didn't like this version of Dr. Hiddleston, tart, demanding, and cool. His demeanor made me jumpy, and a bit scared to go against him, ordering I just shut up and listen to him. Heck, I knew he had authority over me, hence him being my doctor, but now, with how he was appearing, I could feel his air of authority like the breath of a fire-blowing dragon. I didn't like this picture. At all. 

Dr. Hiddleston shortly returned with a tray of food, and placing it down on the table, sat down across from me. I watched as he placed my plate in front of me before he got his. I tried not to wrinkle my nose at the sight of the small yogurt that was on my plate.

"Enjoy," Dr. Hiddleston said, grinning, and picking up a fork, stabbed a piece of watermelon to enjoy.

I didn't want to enjoy my meal. There were too many things on it - yogurt, a small omelette, some fruit - that I didn't like. My choice of drink, glancing over at the two glasses, were water and a red juice of some kind. Curious, I reached for the juice to try.

I couldn't help the look of disgust that came over me at the juice's taste. Extremely bitter, my tongue cringed to make sense of the flavor, horrified. Yuck! 

Dr. Hiddleston looked up from his fruit-bowl, a look of worry in his gaze. "Luna?"

"I'm fine," I coughed, setting the drink down as far from me as possible. "J-just wasn't expecting it to taste like that."

Dr. Hiddleston chuckled. "I take it you never had cranberry juice before?"

I shook my head, now drinking the water. 

"It's not bad. You get used to it after you've had it a bit," he explained, popping a grape into his mouth. "Try the omelet."

I shook my head again.

"Not a fan of omelettes?"

"Not really."

Dr. Hiddleston chuckled again. "You don't like the taste?"

"It's not the taste that bothers me," I glanced at the small omelette in question, "it's more of the texture. The texture of some foods don't do well with me. If I don't like the texture, I don't like the taste."

Dr. Hiddleston listened, nodding. "Any other foods I should be mindful of?"

I pointed at the yogurt. "I can't with yogurt."

Dr. Hiddleston furrowed his eyebrows. "Yogurt's good for you, though."

"Not for my tastebuds, it isn't," I snarled.

Dr. Hiddleston glanced at my plate for a moment longer, then leaning back in his chair, sighed. "It would appear I've made up your entire plate well over seventy-five percent of the foods you don't like. Please tell me you don't have any issue with the fruit?"

"I can stomach the fruit."

"That's good," he picked up his fork again, "eat up."

I frowned at him, hating how he suddenly went all cold on me again. Looking at my plate again, I felt the hot urge to just toss the plate into the nearest trash bin. However, realizing I'd probably get in trouble for it, decided to just do as told and eat. I picked up my fork and, spotting a blueberry, went to poke it.

The next couple minutes passed in silence. I, after a few tries, managed to get the blueberry onto my fork and into my mouth. Dr. Hiddleston watched me as I picked and ate my fruit, his own bowl soon finished. Halfway through, I felt like we were in the middle of a session, and as he continued to observe me, wondered if he was taking mental notes to file away later.

Eventually, I had the last of my fruit. I dropped my fork into the empty bowl, pushing my plate away. 

"Done?" Dr. Hiddleston asked.

I nodded. 

Dr. Hiddleston sat up in his chair, and reaching across the table, plucked up the small yogurt. I watched as he opened it, and taking my spoon, stirred it. He placed it back in front of me, ordering softly, "Eat your yogurt, then you'll be done."

I blinked at him. 

He gestured at the yogurt. "Go on."

I blinked again. 

He leaned back into his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. "It's not poison, Luna."

To me and my tastebuds, it most definitely was poison. The chair underneath me suddenly become hot, and daring a look at Dr. Hiddleston, saw ice in his blue eyes. Another look, and I found myself reaching out for the disgusting yogurt. I didn't like the way he was looking at me, staring so sternly at me.

I somehow, which took awhile, managed to eat all the yogurt, much to my tastebud's horror. Eating the last spoonful, I dumped the spoon back into the finished cup. Dr. Hiddleston nodded approvingly.

"Good job," he praised.

I cringed at the praise. Eating the yogurt had been revolting. If I weren't worried about being carted down to the ER, I'd have happily thrown up the substance. My poor tastebuds! How they hated me at the present moment. To better clear my palette from the icky taste, I finished my water. Dr. Hiddleston gestured at my cranberry juice, looking at me pointedly. I scowled at the venomous liquid. "You said I'd be done after I'd finished the yogurt."

"So, I did." He nodded.

He scooted his chair back, and standing up, picked up the tray. My eyes followed him as he disposed of it at the nearest trash bin. Coming back over, he ushered me up. 

I got up from the table, and taken by surprise, he slipped his hand back through mine. I jumped, tugging against him to be let go. 

"Hey," he said, loosening his grip. "You're alright, Luna."

No, I wasn't! I didn't want him touching me. His pass for the day was spent, and I wanted out of his hold. I tugged again, biting my lip. Dr. Hiddleston gazed down at me, frowning sternly at my antics. If I could get out of his grip - my eyes turned towards the entrance of the cafeteria - I could run free. Back home, I could run back home!

Not thinking, I placed my free hand on the arm holding me, which was his right hand, and gripping it, felt as my fingers dug into his white coat sleeve. Anchored, I tried pulling backwards, my captured hand straining against his hand - which, unfortunately tightened - to slip free. Dr. Hiddleston stood unmoving, his figure towering over me as I struggled in vain to release myself.  

My effort to free myself didn't last long, and I soon called defeat. I stopped pulling, tried, frustrated, and feeling as trapped as ever. I didn't let go of his arm though, gripping the sleeve's fabric loosely. Not wanting to look up at Dr. Hiddleston, I focused on the ground to regain my composure. 

Finally, after a few deep breaths, and spotting Dr. Hiddleston's shoes, focusing on them, I felt decent enough to dare a peek up at him. I looked up, frowning at his hard-to-read expression. Damn him , he looked completely unfazed with not one bit of anger showing in his features at what I'd just done. Bloody hell, he should've been furious at my attempt to get away, but he looked like nothing had happened at all.

Instead, he simply said, "Are you ready to leave?"

I nodded begrudgingly. We've been in the cafeteria long enough. 

"Come along then," he told me and, tugging me forward gently, we set off for our next destination of the day. 

*

I was guided down to the same consult room our last couple sessions had been in. Dr. Hiddleston said nothing as we walked, his hand holding steady as he shepherded me our designated room.

We entered the green room, his hand releasing me as we crossed through the door. I immediately sat down in my spot, the same chair as previous sessions as he closed the door. There was no sound of any lock falling into place, my sight lingering on the door handle. 

If I was fast enough, I could bolt right out of this room. However, giving Dr. Hiddleston a side-way glance, noticed his expression staring at me pointedly, the stern line of his mouth daring me to run and see what would happen. His long legs would probably catch up to me before I even had the chance to leave this damn room. My appetite for booking it quickly dwindled.

Dr. Hiddleston crossed the room and sat down opposite of me. He said nothing as he pulled out his clipboard he had tucked away in the white chair. Clicking a pen open, he started writing, his eyes narrowing in focus. I sat, waiting anxiously for him to address me. 

He went on writing for a few minutes, the silence growing between us. As he scribbled, I worried over what he was writing. Obviously, my behavior down in the cafeteria wasn't going to fly past him, and my interactions with him as I got ready that morning were probably worth jolting down. 

I drew up my legs, wrapping my arms around them as I hugged them to my chest. I tried not to feel the nerves now biting at my stomach. To distract myself, I tried thinking of what ice breaker he'd ask me and what answers I could give him. Or, would he decided to scold me for trying to get away? 

A couple more minutes passed before, setting his pen down, Dr. Hiddleston finally addressed me. "Do you know where we are?" 

I bite my lower lip, nodding. Of course I knew where we were. I was in a loony bin. 

"Where are we, Luna?" 

"In a hospital," I mumbled quietly. 

"We are," he agreed, nodding. "To be more specific, we're at the Big Lots Behavioral Health Pavilion at Nationwide Children's. Do you know why children come here?" Again, I nodded, silent. Dr. Hiddleston softly asked, "Why, Luna?" 

I hugged myself tighter. "Because there's something wrong with them." 

Dr. Hiddleston hummed. "I wouldn't stay there's something wrong with them. It's more along the lines of they're going through a very difficult time in their life that they don't understand and are struggling to comprehend. At the main hospital, children are treated for physical illnesses, while here, we provide treatment towards illnesses that affect children mentally." 

"Am I one of those children?" 

He paused for a second, choosing his words carefully as he spoke, "You are. However, that does not mean there's something wrong with you. You're going through a very difficult time right now, and your body, your mind, is having trouble understanding that. I'm here to help children like you figure out how best to cope with what's happening and why you're going through what you're going through right now." 

I narrowed my gaze at him. 

"I want to help you, Luna," he went on, his face softening, "but, I can't do that unless you open up with me. I know you said you don't remember anything that happened the night you were brought here, but that's not my main concern right now. What is is getting you comfortable to talk to me. I can't treat silence." 

His words were kind, and the Dr. Hiddleston I had this morning, mean, cold, and demanding, was gone, back to the one I was familiar with. I peered up at him from my knees. "You told me you'd share more about my condition, this anxiety I have." 

"I did," he said. "Yet, you were and you're still, not in the mindset to handle that information. You don't want to listen to me. You don't want to communicate with me, more than happy to be a hermit it their shell, which I completely understand. However, this behavior isn't helping either of us. It's making you lash out. It's obscuring what I'm trying to do to help you understand why you're here in the first place. From there, we'd work on ways to handle your anxiety, and after that, you'd be good go home. However, we'd made zero progress." 

"You told me I didn't need to talk right away." 

"Yes, I did, but I did that in the hopes you'd talk on your own, which, clearly, didn't happen. Now, I need you to talk. I need you to communicate with me, Luna." 

"What if I don't want to talk to you?" I sharpened my sight at him. 

"Then, I guess, you don't want to go home."

That stung. 

That really, really, stung.

I didn't know how to respond, dumbfounded by how unexpected and, dare I say, boldly he said that. A surge of anger welled up inside me, but I shut it down, absorbing his words. It felt like I had just been gut-punched, my world flipping upside down and shattering. Again . 

Dr. Hiddleston watched me quietly as I tried to process his cruel words, a sad, yet serious glint in his blue eyes. He couldn't have meant what he'd said, that I didn't want to go home because I refused to talk to him. 

He didn't know me! All he was doing was making assumptions that weren't at all true. Just because he was a doctor and wore a stupid white coat didn't mean he was allowed to know everything about me. He had no right to know my story. 

"Luna?"

I looked up at him, surprising myself when, instead of snapping at him, I quietly asked, "Can you do that?"

"Do what?"

"Keep me here longer than I want?"

"As your doctor, yes," he told me. "Your treatment, if you had cooperated with me, would've lasted only a couple of days and you'd have been home by now. Unfortunately, to better asses you, I believe a more prolonged stay will be required to help you."

"How much longer?"

"I'm afraid I don't know yet," he said. "At this point, we need to take things day-by-day."

"Weren't we doing that already?"

Dr. Hiddleston shook his head. "I had hoped things could've gone well with the usual treatment plan most patients have while under the care of the YSCU, which would've only been a few days of intensive care. However, it appears, for your case, one suit doesn't fit all, and because of that, my plan of treatment will have to take a different route. I know this isn't what you expected, and is probably the very last thing you expected, but it's necessary." 

Necessary?! Trapping me here in this cage with him? How was any of this necessary? Was he blind or deaf? Couldn't he read body language, didn't he understood that my silence against him wasn't to upset him, but to protect me? He wanted me to spill my secrets to him, a complete stranger, tell him a story that I couldn't even remember. 

I couldn't be here. 

I didn't belong here.

I had to get out.

I didn't speak for awhile, silently wishing I could somehow leave this green room. Dr. Hiddleston watched me, waiting to see if I'd have anything to say about what he shared with me. 

When at last it became apparent I wouldn't, he clicked open his pen. "I see," he picked up his clipboard, placing it on his knee, "you've spoken enough this morning. That's okay-," it didn't sound like it-, "We'll talk some more later." He started writing again.  With how he spoke, it sounded very much like we'd most definitely be talking later. 

Whether I wanted to or not, Dr. Hiddleston had made it quiet clear he wasn't going to put up with my silence anymore. His patience with me had grown thin, and this session had been his wake up call for me to face reality. 

It was in that moment, him writing away soundlessly, and I, lost in thoughts of our next session together, that the sounds of crickets between us died.

*

~ unedited

Chapter Text

^

The rest of our session together was spent in total silence. Unlike past sessions, where I was more than happy to soak in the silence between us, I felt like the silence in the room wasn't supposed to be there this time. 

I didn't want it to be there. I wanted some kind of noise to fill the room, the sound of Dr. Hiddleston's note-taking doing little to provide any sort of background ambience that I was comfortable with. It was a sad sound, his pen on paper, as he noted down more about me, adding more to my condition. I didn't want to hear it, but at the same time, I couldn't just take his clipboard away. 

While I sat and fidgeted in my chair, Dr. Hiddleston seemed to enjoy the silence, at complete ease, soaking it in. Every once in a while, he'd glance up from his clipboard. His sight would fall on me, watching me mindfully to see if I'd speak and end this terrible silent game between us. I dodged his eye each time, taking interest in the floor, and a few seconds later, the sound of pen on paper would pick up again. Again, how I desperately wanted to rip his clipboard out his hands. 

Eventually, our session, thank the heavens, ended. Tucking his clipboard away and pocketing his pen, Dr. Hiddleston rose from his chair. I immediately followed his white coat out of the room, thankful he didn't take my hand again.

Quietly, I trekked after him as he guided me down the corridor and to the elevator. Up we went, and then we were heading down the hallway and turning the corner that took me to my room. He let me enter, and giving me a kind grin, said, "I'll have some water brought up. Be good. I'll see you later."

He closed my door, and already on my bed, my knees drawn to my chest, I listened as he retreated. His footsteps faded away, going back down the corridor. A couple minutes later, I heard another set of footsteps, and after a gentle knock, a nurse poked his head through. I easily recognized him as Louis.

"Hey, there," he greeted warmly. "I've got you some water. Can I come in?" I gave him a curt nod, and beaming, he came in closer. I watched as he placed a container and cup down at my desk.

"Thank you," I murmured.

"Of course, dear," he smiled. 

Telling me to holler if I needed anything else and he'd be just down the hall, he left me to my solitude. I listened as his footsteps retreated, and once I was sure he was gone, I got up to pour myself some water. Savoring the cool liquid, I poured myself another cup before going to stare out the window. 

It was a nice day out, not a cloud in sight. The sun shone brightly, warming the earth below, and peering further through the window, I caught the outskirts of what had to be the main hospital. It looked to be an impressive building, large and beautiful, and very modern looking. Glancing downward, I saw as small figures entered and exited the building, some in scrubs, others in white doctor coats. 

For awhile, I entertained myself with people watching. I started a tally in my head, counting how many nurses and doctors I saw. I had hoped to see the familiar scrubs of Harry appear at some point, wishing he'd leave his duties early there and come back. Then, as soon as he was here, I could finally relax again.

My thoughts having shifted, I left the window and, not really thinking of what I was doing, started walking the length of the small room. To the window and wall and back, I went, my thoughts swirling.

I had many things to think about and ponder. I first wondered why I was here, going back to Dr. Hiddleston's words on my anxiety. I was here because of that , and because of that, needed help and treatment. Scared and frightened, and a smidge stubborn, the help Dr. Hiddleston had tried giving me went up in flames. Now, whatever game plan he'd had had to be reconsidered, thus prolonging my stay and treatment. 

Not wanting to worry myself further with what my future sessions with him would look like, I thought of why he'd been so unusual this morning in his behavior. My first meeting with him hadn't given me the impression he was ever one to get so cold. He appeared so soft, and someone who could never bring themselves to raise their voice.

There was compassion in him. A compassion to understand the pain of others, and instead of ignoring them, listen to them. Then, hearing the depths of their pain, help make that pain a little less heavy to bear. He was patience, kind, and, from where I was standing, a man with a heart that cared about others. His crudeness this morning really came out of left field. 

Was it because of how he cared about me and the hell I was going through that he did what he did this morning? I know doctors were to care for their patients, and there were no doubts as to the care and attention he was giving me. Did he treat all of his patients like this? Or was this different? I hope he treated all his patients equally, and when he ran of patience with them, he went just as cold on them as he did me.

It would make me feel a lot better about this whole mess, and not so guilty on being so uptight with him. Yeah, I admit, I wasn't the nicest of nice to him, but I was scared. He was still a stranger to me, and I don't do well with strangers. 

I sat down on my bed, crisscross applesauce style, and leaning back, closed my eyes. I listened to the quietness of my room, catching the sound of passing footsteps every few minutes. I felt my breathing, counted my breathes, and when I felt relaxed enough, slowly rose, my mind cleared from any uncomfortable thoughts. 

You've done enough thinking, my mind soothed, and smiling sadly, I went back to the window. A few clouds, thin and white, had rolled in. I tried making a shape out of them, but unable to, gazed downward. The main hospital snared my attention. 

Soon enough, I was back to counting scrubs and white coats. 

*

I had managed to make a pretty good tally on white coats and scrubs before Dr. Hiddleston reappeared. 

I was mid-count when a knock came from my door, and turning, saw as the door opened to welcome his appearance. 

"Hey," he greeted softly. 

Relieved that he wasn't in the same mood as he was in the morning, I returned his greeting with my own soft, "Hello." 

I focused back at the window. Remembering my tally, I looked down in hopes of finding another white coat or scrub. I listened closely as Dr. Hiddleston stepped further into the room, my body tensing slightly when he approached my small desk. 

"Enjoying the view?" He asked as he set something down next to my water pitcher. 

I shrugged. "I suppose."

There really wasn't too much to enjoy about the view. Some clouds that I couldn't make any fun shapes or objects out of, too thin for that, the sky, your classic bright blue, and if I wanted to burn my sight out, the sun. Sometimes, a bird would zip by real fast, disappearing before I'd the chance to really notice it. The ground was much more interesting and more engaging in my honest opinion. 

Dr. Hiddleston saw that my eyes weren't fixed at the sky, and after a moment's silence, asked, "See anything that's caught your fancy?" 

I looked away from the window, and turning my back to it, saw the lunch tray he'd brought in for me. It held a small sandwich, a bowl of fruit, and as a small treat, a chocolate chip cookie. Dr. Hiddleston, waiting for a reply, poured me some water. 

"Nothing's really caught my fancy," I mumbled, rubbing my upper arm. "I'm just counting doctors and nurses." 

Dr. Hiddleston held out the water for me to take. "Counting doctors and nurses?"

"Like counting sheep," I explained quietly, taking the drink, my eyes darting down to focus on the ground. "It gives my mind something to do."

"That's good," I heard the smile in his voice. "What's the number?" 

The number? Did he mean tally? "Um," I took a sip of water, thinking. "So far, one-hundred and four." 

"In total?" 

I shook my head. "32 doctors, and 72 nurses." 

"More nurses than doctors," he noted. 

I took another sip of water. "There's a lot. You know, doctors and nurses here." 

"There's a lot of children who need our help." Dr. Hiddleston said kindly before he moved away from my desk to head for the door again. "Enjoy your lunch. I'll be back in a little."

The way he spoke and then looked at me, once again, reinstalled the reality of where I was. The situation I was sadly in, and the help he was willing to give to me. It put a funny feeling in me, and lowering myself into the chair, I sighed. 

I was one of those many children that those doctors and nurses helped and cared over. I never thought I'd be, but here I was. I didn't want to be one of those children. I didn't want to be ill or hurt. I didn't want to feel pain. I didn't want to be helped, nor seen as weak. I didn't want Dr. Hiddleston, in his white coat, to help me and see me as some sad poor girl. 

But I was. And, boy, was I struggling to come to terms with that. 

I, lost in my thoughts, ate my sandwich without really registering it. I had some more water, a few bites of fruit, and not a sweet tooth person, left the chocolate chip cookie untouched. After I was done, I left the desk and went back to the window. I picked up my tally again.

I didn't count too many doctors and nurses before there came a knock on my door again, and a second later, Dr. Hiddleston came walking in again. He gave my tray a glance, and approving it, kindly asked if I'd have another cup of water before we took off. 

"It's important to stay hydrated," he told me as he poured me some more water.

"Anything is better than that horrible juice you gave me this morning," I took the cup, downing it quickly before placing it with my tray. Dr. Hiddleston chuckled fondly at me. 

"Cranberry juice isn't bad. It's quite healthy," he said. 

I frowned at him. "So? Doesn't mean I need to drink it." 

"You might warm up to it after a few more tries of it." 

"I'll stick to water, thanks," I quickly told him as he gestured towards the door for me to follow him. 

Quietly and a little upset to be leaving the sanctuary of my small blue room, I trailed close to him as we ventured down the hallway. As we passed the nurse's station, Louis gave me a little wave, which I returned. Into the elevator we went, and a quick ride down later, I was being lead back down the pathway that brought us to our green session room. 

I entered the room, sitting down in my usual spot. I tried not to think of our morning session and how it had ended. Bracing myself for whatever Dr. Hiddleston had planned for this afternoon, I watch him closely. I waited for whatever icebreaker he'd present to me, ready to fake up a reply that I hoped could sound decently honest. 

To my surprise, the ice breaker didn't need to be faked, for smiling at me from his chair, he asked, "So, how many more doctors and nurses did you add to the count?" 

I blinked, thinking. "Ten more," I told him honestly. 

"More doctors this time or are the nurses still winning?" he crossed his legs, one over the other, helping himself become more comfortable. 

"There were four more doctors," I said, and doing some quick math in my head, added, "and 6 more doctors. That would make 36 doctors, and 79 nurses. For the total, it would now be one-hundred and fourteen." 

Dr. Hiddleston gave me an impressed look. "That's a lot of doctors and nurses." 

I folded my hands onto my lap, squeezing them together. "Yeah. That's a good thing, having that many people who can help children who need it." I blinked, chewing the inside of my cheek, and taking a moment, thought over my next few words.

My heart did a little squeeze in my chest as I thought of what to say to him. I didn't want to talk to him, but I didn't have much of a choice anymore. 

I just hoped I didn't say too much. 

"You," I looked at him, my voice quieting. "you're one of those many doctors. You help children who need it, and well, I'm one of those children." 

Dr. Hiddleston listened to me, letting me speak. A kind look was in his blue eyes, a pretty blue full of care, attention, understanding, and sympathy. I went on talking, mindful and careful to what I was saying. "I never really thought I'd be a child in need. I never thought I'd need someone else to help me out. It makes me uncomfortable and it frightens me. Having someone else see you're in trouble when you think you're not. I don't like being called out."

Dr. Hiddleston leaned back in his chair, and he went to open his mouth, but I cut him off, going on. "It's something I'm not used to. Having other's lend me a helping hand. So, I guess because of that, along with my condition and whatever it is that I can't remember that started this all, I got a little difficult. A little defensive. I was really rude to you, and you lost your patience with me." The sharpness and coolness of Dr. Hiddleston from that morning dumped more guilt over me, my shoulders dropping. "I'm sorry." 

There was a space of silence between us, and somewhat horrified, yet, feeling like a weight had been lifted off me, I dropped my head down, staring at the carpet. I waited for Dr. Hiddleston's reply.

"Luna," he called quietly.

The way he said my name, soft and tender and as if only it was meant for me to hear made me look up at him. There was a tender touch to his features. 

"You don't need to be sorry for anything."

I dropped my head again. 

"You came into our care in a rough condition," he went on gently. "You'd every right to feel as you did. I didn't lose my patience with you, Luna. I just couldn't stand to see you struggling to accept my care anymore. I want to help you get better, yet I couldn't do that if you weren't willing to open up to me. We started things off on some rough waters, but I think we can change things around." 

I glanced up at him. "Really?"

"Absolutely," he told me. "I mean, did you ever talk this much before?"

I shook my head.

"See?" he sat up in his chair. "We're already starting off really well. We just needed a moment to think things over a little."

"Dr. Hiddleston?"

"Yes?"

I bite my lower lip. "You're my doctor, right?"

"I am," he answered honestly. 

"And, that makes me your patient. And well," I thought back to some of his previous words, pulling them up again. "Since you're a doctor who works with children, does that make your relationship with me different? I mean, do you see me as just a patient or something more, like a child? I know it might sound like a really weird question and really out of the blue, and perhaps a little inappropriate of me-!" Dr. Hiddleston stopped my rambling with a reassuring smile, shaking his head.

"Luna," he said. "You are my patient. As your doctor, along with the state of your condition, my relationship with you requires I look at you as a child and for you to see me as your sole caregiver.   You are not just a patient to me, you are a child in need of understanding and easing the anxiety that's affecting you. I know it might not be easy at first, but I promise you, if we take things day-by-day and we work together, we can get you better again. It's just going to take a little more time and trust to make that happen."

Time and trust. 

I listened to his words, trying to understand the meanings behind them. He saw me like a child and as his patient. This relationship, doctor and patient, made me feel worriedly upset; I didn't like the idea of him as my caregiver. I didn't want him to see me or treat me like a child. My lips pointed into a frown, my shoulders drooping, my head shaking slowly. That wasn't the answer I was hoping for, yet, it covered my questions. For now.

I sighed, and looking at him, let him see the emotions on my face. The worry, the fear, the uncertainty. The trust I couldn't yet give him, the time I couldn't dedicate to him. The anxiety ripping at my heart, rippling through my life like a mad tidal wave. 

His blue eyes looked back at me; they took in my worry, the anxiety I couldn't understand. They spoke so much, those eyes of his, letting him see things I couldn't. He could see what I'd never had in my life, saw what I needed, yet never received. He was going to give me those unspoken things I'd never had. 

Something tight caught the bottom my throat, and my lips pinched. Closing my eyes, I inhaled deeply, holding my breath for a few seconds before opening them again. 

I saw Dr. Hiddleston's white coat. His clipboard, tucked in the chair, ready for his note taking. His shoes, his pants, his shirt, the chair he sat on, his throne. His blue eyes, his kind face, the sad smile he wore.

I sucked in my bottom lip, then let it go. 

"Okay," I said.

I saw my doctor smile. "Okay," he repeated.

I sat up straighter in my chair, and making myself comfortable, brought my legs crisscross applesauce. 

I inhaled, and exhaled. 

It was time to get to work. Time to accept his helping hand, let his blue eyes see further into my world. See if he could piece me back together, make me better and home again. It was time to give him some trust. 

It was time to start over.

*

~ unedited

Chapter Text

^

Before I knew it, our session together was over. 

The small smile Dr. Hiddleston gave me when I told him I'd accept his help, my little okay, reassured me that I'd made the right choice. That he was happy I had talked to him, although not very much, yet that the progress we've made was positively taking a step in the right direction. 

Our session together wasn't what I'd expected. I was ready for him to start asking me questions that would give him the insight he needed to help figure out my anxiety. I was ready for that - no, not really - and was going to be as honest with him as I could. However, to my surprise, tagged along with confusion and a small sense of relief, he simply engaged me with playing a game with him instead. 

It was a rather easy and straight-forward game, the classic 20 questions game. He put a twist on it though, and cut the question down to only ten. Easing into it, he asked me a question first, asking kindly, "Which do you prefer more? Cats or dogs?"

"Dogs," I quickly answered. 

"Why?" 

"They're easier to handle, and don't give you attitude," I said, and he nodded, agreeing with me and saying, he too, preferred dogs. 

"Alright," he said, folding his hands into his lap. "Your turn."

I had way more than ten questions to ask him, yet to keep things flowing between us, went with saying, "Black or white?"

"Black or white?" 

"Which color do you like more?" 

He glanced down at his white coat, grinning. "White." 

"Why?" 

"I think it suits me better than black." 

Yes, I silently agreed, looking at the doctor's coat he wore. It was crisp, clean, and made him look very very professional. It suited him nicely, hugging his figure comfortably. It spoke of his position and his purpose, to help those who needed it most, and right now, I was in need of his help. Yes, you look good in white. 

The game continued. He'd ask a question, a simple and easy one that I answered quickly and without hesitation. He asked what my favorite pastime was, and I said reading. Then, what books I liked to read, and I said anything I could get my hands on. That intrigued him, his eyes brighting. 

The last question he asked me was the most difficult, and my reply to it surprised him greatly. He wanted to know if I had any favorite Disney characters or movies I liked. I frowned at him, my eyes furrowing. 

"Um, well...." I tried scratching my mind on what to say, fumbling. Dr. Hiddleston waited patiently with a kind look to encourage me. Eventually, I said, "I've heard of Disney, but I've never seen anything from it." 

Dr. Hiddleston tried to hide his surprise. "You've never seen anything from Disney?" 

I shrugged, shaking my head. "No." 

Something flitted across his face, his blue eyes darkening. He didn't ask me to elaborate, and moving on quickly, it became my turn to ask him questions. He didn't say anything on my questions, the same as he asked me, answering them honestly. 

He liked reading just as I did, and had a soft spot for anything Shakespeare. He liked the colors blue and red, something I already knew. He preferred mornings over nighst, and whenever he had some free time, which he shared wasn't often, took long walks with his dog. His favorite Disney film was the Jungle Book. 

"Luna," he said when the last question had been wrapped up, beaming. "Good job." 

"T-Thanks," I said back, peeking up at him. 

The last few minutes of our session was spent with him writing on his clipboard. I didn't mind it this time, hoping he was writing down something good about me. I felt good about myself about this afternoon's session, surprised at how fast our session together had gone by. I hadn't worried too much and for the first time, felt my tension with Dr. Hiddleston start to loosen. Maybe he wasn't too bad after all....

When he was done, tucking his clipboard and pen away, he stood up from his chair. I rose with him, and holding the door open for me, we walked out of the room. 

*

Dr. Hiddleston didn't take me back to my room. 

Instead, he took me to a new floor I hadn't been on yet. This unexpected detour startled me, and uncertain on where we were going, I hesitated for a moment to get out of the elevator. 

Dr. Hiddleston saw my feelings clearly on my face, gently holding the elevator door open for me as I peered out, chewing my bottom lip. "It's okay," he told me, gesturing me forward. 

Knowing I needed to start trusting him, along with the fact I couldn't stay in the elevator all day, I slunk out. Ding!

The elevator closed behind me. 

Dr. Hiddleston started walking, looking back after a few steps to find me rooted to the spot. Stopping, he said, "Come on, Luna." 

My feet shuffled me forward, my stomach tightening. When I was next to him, he started walking again, matching my small steps. Every couple steps, he'd give me a small reassuring look, yet it did little to help my nerves. Where were we going? 

We turned a corner and came about a wide open space that looked very much like a lobby. It looked cozy, a half-circle room with colorful chairs and plush cushions. Against the wall, a pretty bright blue that reminded me of the nurses station back up where my room was, a large counter sat, a couple of nurses on duty. Next to the counter, there was a pair of double doors. 

It was through these doors Dr. Hiddleston guided me. I gulped down the anxiety of not knowing what laid behind them. 

On the other side of them, I was met with a very pleasant surprise. 

"Welcome," Dr. Hiddleston said behind me, "to the outdoor play deck.

The outdoor play deck was laid out before my widening eyes, large, vast, and green. It stretched a good length, and if I had to take an estimate, say it was the length of half a soccer field. Here and there, small hills were scattered, the entire deck covered with green fake grass turf.  Cool air brushed down over us, and glancing up, saw the open blue sky above. A see-through net hung above, a protective shield to save from any birds from nose-diving onto the deck.

I took a few steps forward, stopping before the green turf. After being indoors for so long, it felt incredible to be outdoors again. Behind me, Dr. Hiddleston gazed at me fondly.

"This...." I didn't know what to say. "Woah."

Dr. Hiddleston approached my side, hands in his pockets, grinning. "I thought it would be nice to get some fresh air."

"Thank you."

"Of course," he said and turning, I watched as he dropped into a chair. His white coat looked even brighter in the sunshine, the sun catching the hue of his eyes. He smiled lightly, and noticing how I was still standing, softly encouraged, "Go and get some sunshine, Luna."

A little smile pulled at my lips. 

"Okay," I told him.

"Okay," he said back.

With that, I went to get myself some sunshine. 

*

It's really quite incredible what a good dose of sunshine can do for the soul, replenishing your spirit and energy. 

With the sun beaming down on me, I went about the wide green turf, exploring the new space with curiosity. The green grass underneath my feet, which were bare with only my socks on, felt warm and fuzzy. It felt slick too, and realizing, with my luck, I'd take a painful tumble, thought best not to run across the grass. In his chair, Dr. Hiddleston watched me. 

I went over to each of the small hills scattered throughout the deck, standing on the top of them for a couple minutes each. As I did, standing there, I let my skin take in the happy sun above, grinning whenever a breeze drifted through. It felt incredible. 

When I got to the other end of the deck, I looked back to see how far I was from Dr. Hiddleston, noticing how small his white coat appeared in his chair. I saw him wave at me, and I waved back.

Not knowing when I'd be outside again, I spent the rest of the time walking around the perimeter of the deck. Stretching my legs out, my body relinquished the small exercise, the sun and light breeze adding to my enjoyment. 

It didn't take long for me to complete a lap. Walking past Dr. Hiddleston, he sent me a kind smile. I continued walking, not worrying over the thought of him making notes inside his head to write out later. I didn't care what he was thinking about at the moment, and forgetting about that morning, only thought of how kind it was of him to let me be out here. 

I did a couple more laps, walking at a relaxing pace that let me enjoy myself and cherish the moment. When I came back over to Dr. Hiddleston on my last lap, he rose from his chair. 

"Ready to go inside?" he asked me kindly. 

No, I immediately thought, disappointed. However, realizing that he probably had other things to get to, I shrugged nonchalantly, nodding. Maybe, if I was good, I'd get to be out here again, which I hoped would happen soon.  

Dr. Hiddleston put the chair he was sitting in back where'd he got it before going over to the doors. I followed him through them and back into the small cool lobby space. It was still empty and the nurses behind the counter were gone. 

I didn't linger long on thinking about the empty space as I followed Dr. Hiddleston's white coat to the elevators. They quickly opened, and stepping through, I saw him press for the floor that would take us back to my room. 

The ride was quick and short, and when the doors opened, Dr. Hiddleston gestured me out to follow. At the nurse's station, I saw Nurse Louis, and sitting next to him, the familiar scrubs of Nurse Harry. At our appearance, he got up from behind the counter, beaming. 

"Hey there," he greeted brightly. 

"Hi," I said quietly, the inside of me doing a little happy dance at seeing him again. I didn't let him see how happy and relieved I was to see him again. I kinda sorta missed him....

"How's your day been so far?" Harry asked, looking at me. I shrugged, not giving him much of an answer when I replied, "It was okay."

"Okay?" 

Harry glanced at Dr. Hiddleston, clearly hoping he'd elaborate more on my short response. He did, saying politely, "We've made some progress." 

Dr. Hiddleston started down the corridor that took me to my room, Harry leaving the counter behind to join us. I shuffled behind them, listening as they softly talked. Dr. Hiddleston shared about our outing and the small game we played in our afternoon session, praising me once again for the progress I'd made with him. 

We reached my room and slipping inside when Harry opened the door, I took a seat on my bed. On the small desk, I noticed a small yellow notebook with a black pen. Taken aback by the new objects, I glanced up at Dr. Hiddleston.

"I was hoping," he came over to the desk, plucking up the notebook, "you'd find some kind of entertainment in doing some writing or doodling. It could help keep track of all your doctors and nurses." 

He held out the notebook, and for a moment, I was afraid to take it. Why would I want to use a notebook? I wasn't one for doodling, nor did I fancy writing anything. I had nothing worth writing about, and deciding that I'd use it only to keep track of my tally I'd started earlier, reluctantly accepted it. 

I opened it to the first page. Blank, with neatly lined rows waiting for me to connect pen to paper. I smiled tightly. I didn't thank him for it, my voice thinning with realization of what his true interest was with me and this notebook. He wanted me to journal out my story to him, share the most secret parts of myself with him that were only meant for me to know. 

A secret journal. He'd given me a secret journal in hopes of discovering more about me. Unsettled and frightened, I closed the notebook. I felt the sudden urge to chuck it at him, feeling once again cornered and my situation ten times more worse. I couldn't give him that level of trust. 

Not yet. 

Dr. Hiddleston must've seen my thoughts, for he gently knelt down in front of me, calling softly, "Luna?" 

I glanced at him. "Yeah?" 

"You don't need to use it right away. Take your time." 

"Are you going to look at it?" 

"Not until you're ready for me to," he reassured me. 

I didn't know how to respond to him, his kind words full of honesty. He wasn't going to push anything on me. Not until I was ready. But who knew when I'd be ready? Who knew that by the time I'd muster the strength and confidence to open that notebook, the pages inside wouldn't be yellow and cracked with age. 

"Okay," I whispered. 

"Okay," he repeated kindly. 

He got up, and going over to the desk, poured me a cup of water. I took it, thanking him quietly. I sipped it, letting the cool liquid wash over my palette. I heard his footsteps retreat, his presence walk away from my bed, and then, the sound of him and Harry speaking. 

"We've had a rough morning," I heard mumbled. "But, after we had ourselves a little wake-up call, I managed to make a breakthrough with her." 

"What happened?" 

"I'll share more later tonight, but right now, keep an eye on her. She's in a very vulnerable place right now."

"Alright. 6:30, correct?" 

"Yes, but depending  on when I get through the rest of my patients, I might move it to later. I'll keep you posted." 

The conversation ended there, and not responding when Dr. Hiddleston gave me a soft goodbye, I heard the door open and close.

I took another sip of water. 

I heard the shuffle of Harry's scrubs, then the door opening and closing again. I finished my water before looking up again. 

My room was empty. 

Again, I was alone. 

I stood up slowly. I put my cup by the pitcher, ignoring the yellow notebook sitting abandoned on my bed. Through the window, I saw the sun and the blue sky. A pathom breeze blew through the small space, the warmth of being underneath the sun pricking my arms again. Going to stand by the window, I peered out and down.

I caught the sight of white coats and colorful scrubs. 

I started counting quietly. 

Nearby in the chair, the imagery presence of Dr. Hiddleston sat. 

*

I wasn't alone for long.

Nurse Harry came to check up on me throughout the rest of the afternoon. He'd pop in, see how I was doing, and if needed, refill my pitcher. I stayed close to the window, my tally of doctors and nurses growing. I'd pause whenever he came to acknowledge his presence, and the moment he left, I went back to counting. The yellow notebook stayed untouched.

As I counted, I saw the sun slowly dip below to the horizon and dusk appear. The sky changed from it's vibrate blue to a cool grey navy blue, red, orange, and purple appearing to create the sunset's picturesque glow. It became harder to see the doctor and nurses below, and so, when Nurse Harry came to deliver my dinner, I stopped the tally for the day. 

I ate my meal quietly, Harry standing nearby. It wasn't anything too exciting, a simple hamburger and side salad. I only managed half the burger and a few bites of salads before telling Harry I was finished. 

"Would you like a small desert?" he asked as he picked up my tray. "They've got some amazing chocolate chip cookies." 

"No, thanks," I politely declined. 

"Whatever floats your boat, love," he stepped over to the door, and just as he was about to leave, turned back to say, "Oh! I've got something to attend to this evening, so Nurse Louis will be the one to come in and get you settled for bed. Is that alright with you?"

I remembered his hushed conversation with Dr. Hiddleston and the meeting they'd mentioned. I knew it was probably mandatory for these meetings to happen, but knowing who and what they'd be talking about, I didn't want Harry to go. I didn't want Dr. Hiddleston telling the green-eyed nurse about my situation. Unfortunately, I had absolutely no say in the manner, which meant I couldn't tell Harry not to go. To not listen to Dr. Hiddleston as he'd undoubtedly share more on my condition.

"That's fine." I mumbled.

"I'll be back to say good night," he promised, and with that, he left the room. I let out a long sigh, my thoughts now stuck on wondering what this meeting Harry was going to was going to be about. 

It was going to be about me, that much I knew. Dr. Hiddleston would probably inform him on how roughly my morning had gone with him and the trouble I'd given him. I hoped he wouldn't paint a bad image of me that would change Harry's attitude towards me. I really appreciated his kind and gentle demeanor with me, and how safe he made me feel. He helped me feel like I was in a safe place, despite what my mind was screaming at me. 

Leaving the window behind, I began pacing as I thought over the other possibilities of what else they'd discuss. Would Dr. Hiddleston share about my failed treatment plan? Would he give him insight into what my new treatment would be? Give him a list of medications to get organized and ready to give me? Would he tell him how much longer I'd stay here, what new methods of therapy he'd give me to help soothe my broken mind? Would he tell him that I'd have to undergo shock therapy to forget about the pain destroying my life? 

I stopped my thoughts, yanking myself from falling too deeply into that mindset. No, I didn't need to see Dr. Hiddleston in that way, a evil doctor willing to shock my fragile mind. No, not after the kindness and care he'd shown me that afternoon and the time he gave me outside, it seemed cruel and wrong to think of the possibility. 

I went on pacing until a knock came from my door and Nurse Louis appeared. He greeted me sweetly, a bundle of clothes in his arms as he came over to me. 

"Ready for bed, Luna?" he asked.

I shrugged. I suppose.....

"Would you like to take a shower?"

The idea of a warm, cozy shower sounded wonderful, and taking his offer, went over to the bathroom. He handed me my clothes, and telling me to take my time, closed the curtains. I listened for the sound of the door closing, the sound signaling his departure, but hearing nothing, a sense of dread went through me. 

"Uh...." I weakly mustered up the courage to speak. "Nurse L-Louis?"

"Yes?" 

He sounded like he was where my bed was, which wasn't as close as I'd thought. Having already gone through this with Dr. Hiddleston from the morning, I decided to just ignore Louis's presence, turning to face the shower. If he came through this curtain, I'd scream bloody murder and find a way to sue the hell out of him.....

"Luna, everything alright?"

"I'm fine! It was n-nothing." 

"I'm here if you need anything, love."

I ignored the love and turning on the shower, slipped out from my clothes. I'd forgotten about the disposable underwear I wore and the icky nappy vibes it's given me, so when I saw it, I ripped it off of me with a loud Rippppp! I stuffed the material into the trash, praying I'd never have to see it again.

Taking Nurse Louis's advice, I took my time underneath the shower's head. It felt wonderful as the stream of water rained down on me, cleansing my body from the day's events. I spent a couple of minutes just soaking in it, forgetting myself and where I was momentarily. When I came back to reality, I felt relinquished and, oddly, with the sense that everything was going to okay. 

Feeling safe and at peace, I went through the rest of my shower. I shampooed my hair, rubbing my fingers through my scalp to latter it in throughly. Once my hair was rinsed, I moved to my body, tracing small circles across my stomach with the shampoo. When the last of the shampoo was gone, I turned the water off, and not lingering long enough to mourn the warmth's absence, wrapped a towel around my body.

With the towel, which was surprisingly soft and fuzzy, I looked at my choice of pajamas. It was another hospital gown, a pastel blue with little butterflies on it. There was another pair of mint hospital socks, and, much to my displeasure and discomfort, another pair of disposable underwear.

Sighing, I patted myself dry before slipping on the gown and socks. I very reluctantly put on the underwear, hating it's tight wrap around my lower half. I swear it made me feel like I was in a fucking nappy. Maybe I could talk to Louis about the stupid material and see if he could get me some actual underwear.

I brushed my hair, not caring about how painfully it hurt as I dragged the brush through my sensitive hair. I gritted my teeth, holding back rude words each time I came across a tangle. Eventually, when it felt like half my hair was gone, I was satisfied enough to exit the small bathroom. 

Nurse Louis was by my bed, holding back the blanket to let me crawl in underneath. He tucked me in, his movements light and gentle as he made sure the blanket was secure and my pillow just right underneath my head. My curtains were drawn and on my desk, there was a tiny glow of a small nightlight.

"Alright," Louis put his hands on his hips as he admired his work of tucking me in. "I hope you've only the sweetest of dreams tonight. If you're not already asleep, I'll have Harry come see you when he gets done with his meeting. That sound cool?"

I nodded.

"Good," he smiled, and as he headed for the door, he called out, "You need anything, you know the drill, love. Holler and we'll come running."

"Good night, Nurse Louis," I said.

He gave me a soft glance back. "Good night, little butterfly."

I smiled at the nickname, watching as his figure left the room, the door closing behind him quietly. 

Turning away from the door, I made myself comfortable. My legs curled up to my chest, my arms going to rest underneath my head as I rested my chin against their soft flesh. Quietly, I heard as silence came into the room again. 

Alone again, I waited for sleep to find me.

*

~unedited  

Chapter Text

^

I did not sleep well that night.

At all. 

Sleep failed to find me, and instead, demons invaded my world. 

Demons I can't describe nor remember, they came into my small blue room under the cover of the dark gray night. They slipped underneath the door, giggling as they crept closer to where I was huddled on the bed. 

Their giggles, I couldn't hear, yet I felt them, my breathing becoming more and more sallow as they tiptoed closer to  me. Their identities, horrible and demented, remained hidden within my broken mind. 

What followed, I can't tell on my own. 

I had no recollection of what conspired once the demons lurking within me took over my sleep, but it wasn't good. When I had eventually mustered up the energy and was decently returned to my senses - a feat that came hours after the night's ordeal - I anxiously demanded whoever had been witness to it to share with me the tragic tale.

The night started with me waiting impatiently to fall asleep. I remembered that part well, the thoughts and dark ceiling above me that I'd traced invisible patterns on in an attempt to fall asleep. When that didn't work, and my arm started to ache from holding it up, I wandered over to the window. 

I opened the curtains, squinting through the window to see if any stars were out. Unfortunately, I counted zero in the black sky, and disappointed, went back to the bed. 

Pulling my covers back over me, I debated if I should call Nurse Louis to share my troubles sleeping. I didn't want to bother him though, and so, I went back to staring quietly at the ceiling.

After that, I guess, either from boredom or pure exhaustion, I somehow managed to fall asleep. Outside my room, and down the corridors where the nurse's station sat, Nurse Harry and Louis were working.

They sat in comfortable silence, their fingers typing on the keyboards before them as they filed in their reports for the day. Absorbed in their typing, they jumped when a terrible sound came down the corridor.

It was a scream. 

A terrible scream. 

As if someone was being murdered alive.

It was my scream.

When the scream came again, the two nurses darted out from behind the station, abandoning their half-finished work. They ran to where they believed the horrible noise had come from, their running feet leading them down the corridor that brought them directly to my blue room. 

Another scream, a whimpering cry sounded from behind my closed door. Nurse Harry swung it open wide, his frantic eyes going straight to where I laid.

"Luna!"

He came to my bedside, Louis right behind him. I was curled up tightly, my eyes sealed shut while my lips stretched wide to let out another cry. My entire body, small as it was, convulsed as the demons within my mind tormented me. 

"Luna!" 

I didn't hear the shout of the green-eyed nurse, my consciousness trapped within the realm between sleep and hostile dreams. I didn't feel it when he placed his hands firmly on my upper arms, locking me within his grasp as he felt me shake. 

"Luna!" he tried again, shaking me slightly. "Luna!"

"Please, no!" 

"Luna!"

A cry of imagery pain left my lips. 

Harry's call to bring me back to the real world became more desperate. "Luna! Wake up! You need to wake up for us, darling! Luna! Wake up! Luna!"

He shook me again, repeating my name. Louis tried as well, his voice merging with Harry's as he made his feeble attempts. 

"Luna!"

The longer they tried rousing me, the more worried their voices became. I, of course, adrift in the darkness of my mind, couldn't hear them, alone, lost, and deeply afraid. Wherever I was, I didn't want to be. I wanted free, away from the pain that was hurting me. I didn't want the darkness to be my new home....

"Luna! Wake up!"

The cry, Harry's, full of desperation and fear, and, this time, demand , rang out loudly through the dark. It penetrated through the barrier that kept me from the real world. A thin crack appeared, and spotting it, I ran for it with a wail.

"Luna," Harry's voice called me. "Come on, darling. Wake up for us."

My eyes flew open. 

Two faces, blurry and distorted, stared down at me. One face had green eyes full of worry and anxiety; the other, blue eyes that stared at me in equal emotion. I struggled to recognize them as my reality crashed down around me.

A choked sound came from my throat, hoarse and rough. I caught the movement of blue scrubs, the blue-eyed man moving away and out of my line of sight. There was only one face to focus on now, and I saw the familiar pink of his scrubs. 

Harry! 

I tried uttering his name as I recognized his face. His hands were anchored to me, his fingers pressing firmly into my upper arms as if to keep me from flying away. He grounded me, physically, but inside my fracture mind, I was untethered to reality. I choked out a ragged sob, and with it, my burnt emotions.

I sobbed loudly, tears hot and blurring to my vision. I heard as I cried, felt the wet trail of tears that burned my checks. I tried reaching for something, my hands clamping onto the fabric of Harry's scrubs. I didn't let go, tugging against his shirt. 

Arms roped around me, strong and steady. Harry's hands disappeared from my arms. My body was encouraged forward by a gentle pull, and obeying mindlessly, I leaned into his warm and firm body. The arms repositioned themselves to loop protectively around me, Nurse Harry's voice soothing as he comforted me. 

"It's alright now," he muttered quietly. "We've got you now, Luna."

I hiccuped loudly. 

"You're safe."

In Harry's arms, cocooned close to him, I wept freely. I didn't care how horrible I appeared, how desperate I sounded as I clung to him. His words, softly spoken, I briefly heard. However, too afraid, I couldn't believe them. 

I wasn't alright.

Nobody had me, safe, secure, and loved. 

I wasn't safe.

My demons giggled. They promised to come back to continue their fun with me. 

My hiccuping tears turned into hysteria, my crying pitching. My vision vanished completely as tears overwhelmed me again. I begged to be left alone, for the pain to stop. I didn't want to be hurt anymore. Whatever hell I was in, I wanted out. 

I couldn't hear Harry above my wild crying. He was trying to get my attention, calling out my name. I didn't hear him though, shaking my head against his solid chest. My crying became louder as I tried to drown him out.

"Luna!" Harry tried again, gripping me tightly against him. "Hey, sweetie. You're okay. We're here for you."

That was an absolute lie! 

Harry tried a few more times to get my attention, but when my crying turned into wails, he stopped. He held me tightly, shooting a quick look at Nurse Louis. 

"Page Dr. Cumberbatch," he ordered.

Nurse Louis did so immediately. Not a minute later, he got a response. 

"He'll meet us down there. He's got a room ready," Nurse Louis informed Harry as he read his pager. 

"Good." 

I went on crying, oblivious to the two nurses and what they were doing. I didn't notice when Harry, keeping me secure and close, lifted me onto his hip. My arms wrapped around his neck as I burrowed my tear-strained face into his shoulder. I sniffled loudly. 

Nurse Harry carried me out of the room, Louis walking ahead of us. Down the corridor and to the elevator I was carried, my cries loud and clear. I didn't care if I was heard or not. I couldn't control my tears. 

We rode down to the first floor, home to the Psychiatric Crisis Department where Dr. Cumberbatch waited for us in one of the treatment rooms. Nurse Harry carried me through the lobby and back through the vast corridor where multiple patient rooms and treatment wards were enclosed. 

Near the end of the corridor, dressed in dark medical scrubs, Dr. Cumberbatch ran towards us. He didn't need to see much of my state before he sharply said, "In here." 

We turned into the room set up for my arrival, a bright room that was a designated treatment room. It was decently sized, decked and appropriately equipped with a collection of medical equipment. It smelled of disinfectant, clean, and ready to tend to my needs. 

"Lay her there," Dr. Cumberbatch directed, pointing to the bed in the middle of the room, the room's sliding door closing behind us with a soft hiss. The curtains were quickly drawn across it. 

Harry brought me to the bed. It took a little struggle to detach me from his hold before I was placed on it fully, my body going rigid at the new contact. My vision was still blurry, and unable to make out the features of the people around me, I spooked when I saw the new appearance of Dr. Cumberbatch. I tried getting off the bed. 

Harry caught me, shushing me. "No, you're okay," he gestured to Nurse Louis approaching the other side of the bed. The sound of a click caught my attention, and turning to see where it had come from, saw the bedrails go up. 

I wept harder then. 

I felt very very trapped. 

Around me, Dr. Cumberbatch observed me closely, tired dismay set hard within his sharp and serious features. He watched me cry for a couple minutes before demanding to know what had started my fit. 

"She was asleep," Harry told him. "We heard her start screaming suddenly and when we went to see her, she appeared to be in some sort of unconscious state of dreaming. It wasn't pretty, and when we tried rousing her, she didn't response right away." 

"Right away?" 

"We practically had to yell her name multiple times before she awoke," Nurse Louis said. 

"And after that, what was her response?" 

"She started crying." 

"Immediately?" 

"Yes," Nurse Harry sighed. "She's been crying since."

Dr. Cumberbatch hummed. "Something's not right here." 

No shit, Sherlock!

"Do you think it was a bad dream? A night terror?" I heard Nurse Louis ask worriedly. 

"I don't know. That depends if she remembers whatever it was she was dreaming about, which from what I'm observing so far, will be unlikely. With this display of tears, I'd be surprised if she remembers anything at all really. However, right now, our main focus is getting her calm enough to where I can assess her and save her from getting sick. After that, we can go from there." 

I heard the shuffle of shoes, and then, Dr. Cumberbatch called my name. "Luna? Luna, can you look at me, please?" 

I shook my head. I just needed to be left alone to cry. 

"Luna," he said, frowning. "You've cried an awful lot of tears. If you cry any longer, you'll make yourself sick. We don't want that now, do we?" 

I shook my head again, wishing there was a pillow I could stuff my head under to make the world disappear. 

"Can you do me a favor?" 

I tried hiccuping a n-no, my shoulders shaking with the effort. 

"Can you take a deep breath in for me?" 

I didn't want to listen to him. He had no idea how to help me. He couldn't ease the pain inside me. No, no, no! 

No-one in this room could. 

No-one but.....

"H-H-Hiddle-," my voice spluttered as I tried to speak. Dr. Cumberbatch leaned in closer to hear, asking me quietly what I was trying to say.

"H-H-Hiddleston!" I tried again, my throat burning. 

Dr. Cumberbatch looked at me sadly. "Luna, he's not here right now. I'm sorry, sweet pea."

That was definitely something I did not need to hear. Hearing his absence, a new tidal wave of blinding emotion surged through me. It swept through me, another cry of pain leaving my broken lips. 

I let loose another terrible wail.

Dr. Cumberbatch hurriedly tried to consul me, his deep voice dropping as he cooed, "You're okay, you're okay. You're not alone. We're here for you."

Without Dr. Hiddleston near, I felt very much alone. I didn't feel okay. 

I wasn't. 

I went on crying, mourning the absence of Dr. Hiddleston. Of all the times I needed him, he wasn't here. He'd left me, abandoned me without thinking of the consequences. Gone with the wind, him and his white coat....

Dr. Cumberbatch, along with Nurse Harry and Nurse Louis, tried to reach me through my onslaught of tears. I heard broken snippets of their attempts to soothe me; Harry reached for me, brushing his hand through my tangled yellow hair, whispering falsehoods that I was safe. Nurse Louis stood close, muttering to me that everything was okay and Dr. Hiddleston would see me as soon as he could. Dr. Cumberbatch, with his deep velvety voice, tried to get me to take in some deep breaths. He told me I needed to relax before I got sick.

I didn't listen to any of them, though.

Not until it was too late. 

I felt the stinging burn of something rising in my throat. It brought my crying to a screeching halt, and gesturing to my throat, felt as my tears finally caught up to me.

My loose hospital gown I wore became damp and hot as I vomited. Hands, Dr. Cumberbatch's, immediately latched behind my head and under my chin. Another hand, Nurse Harry's, started rubbing circles against my back, and seeing that it had been unpreventable, I was ordered to let everything out. A blue vomit bag appeared before me.

I threw up two more times. It was horrible, yet it slowly brought me back to my senses. When I was done, positive I wouldn't yak anymore, I waved weakly to Dr. Cumberbatch to signal I was finished. He told me to relax then, not to move as they worked to get me cleaned up.

Nurse Harry cleaned my face, wiping at the corners of my mouth. He kept from cleaning up underneath my sponged out eyes, letting them clear naturally. I was offered some tissues to blow my nose loudly in by Nurse Louis, and when given some water, I silently declined.

Dr. Cumberbatch, while the two nurse cleaned me up, checked me over with a quick examination. He took my temperature, then my pulse, sighing when he noted how high it was. When it came to listening to my heartbeat, he had to wait until I'd been changed into a new gown before proceeding. 

It was while he was listening to my frightened heart he ordered me to breathe in deeply. I listened, too weak to disobey, my breathing hitching as I did so.

"Hold it," he told me softly.

I did. 

"Release."

I exhaled. 

We repeated this until, after a couple minutes, I could breathe without hiccuping. The tightness of emotion that had nestled itself within me from the night loosened. My tensed muscles, which had been ready for me to jump and run away, relaxed. My head cleared. My vision was less distorted, and I could now make out the room I was in.

I felt Dr. Cumberbatch and the cold stethoscope he had pressed against my upper back. It made me shiver, and noticing, he removed it. He grinned at me, yet I caught the dim sad glint in his gaze. He was deeply concerned about me. 

"I'm sorry," I whispered, my voice cracking with hoarseness. 

He held out a cup of water, telling me, "Drink." 

I didn't want to, afraid it would make me nauseous and sick again. I shook my head, hoping he'd understand. "No, thank you." 

"You need to drink a little, darling," he insisted. 

"I'll get sick again." Not like I wasn't already.

"Just a couple sips," he brought the straw to my lips. 

I sighed, too weak to protest any further. I took the straw between my lips, my hands going to hold the cup. Dr. Cumberbatch saw I shook still, so he gently took the cup back, holding it steady for me as I took a couple of sips. 

When I was done, he handed the cup back to Nurse Harry. I stared tiredly at my lap, my head feeling too heavy to lift. I needed to lay down, something to support me before I collapsed out of existence. 

I needed someone to be here for me. 

To hold me together, keep me from falling apart. I clearly couldn't do that on my own, be my own advocate for my own well-being. I was too fragile, too broken for my own good. 

"You can lay down, Luna," I heard Dr. Cumberbatch say.

I didn't want to, afraid to go back to that awful land of torment and demons that landed me here. If I closed my eyes, they'd all come back. 

"I can't," I weakly mumbled, my eyes downcast. 

"You don't need to go back to sleep," Dr. Cumberbatch accepted the blue blanket Nurse Louis had fetched. He unfolded it, carefully laying it out over my legs and torso. "Just give your body a rest, dear." 

Without feeling it much, he helped me lay down. My head connected with the pillow Harry placed behind me, soft and absorbing. Dr. Cumberbatch tucked the rest of the blanket over me, then sending me a kind smile, he took a step away. 

I looked up at the ceiling, my body flat and too weak to do anything. The sound of plastic reached my ears. Above me, I saw Dr. Cumberbatch return to my line of sight as he held out what appeared to be a bundle of cords. 

I said nothing as he carefully, with Nurse Harry's assistant, hooked me up to a heart monitor. Placing electrodes over my upper abdomen, the sound of beeping soon filled the air. When I was completely hooked up, he studied the moniter. 

"Her BP is at a good resting rate at the moment," he told Nurse Harry. 

"I can't imagine what it was earlier," he replied back. 

"Well, we've just got to keep an eye on her for now. In the morning, when he gets in, I'll let Dr. Hiddleston know about tonight's event." 

Dr. Cumberbatch turned from the monitor, and warning me quietly, placed a pressure cuff around my upper left arm. He apologized for the tightness of it when he started it, explaining to me it would keep a constant eye on my pulse throughout the night. An oximeter was slipped over one of my fingers. 

I said nothing about the contraptions on me, locking me to the monitors and equipment in the room. My eyes lowered in dismay. I didn't really care what they were doing to me. I was too beat to feel anything. 

Dr. Cumberbatch double checked I was properly hooked to the monitor and my vitals were being read properly before going to dismiss Nurse Harry and Nurse Louis. 

"You two need to rest," he told them. 

"We can still help if anything comes up," Harry said. 

"You've done enough for now," Dr. Cumberbatch picked up a clipboard. He went over to the door, and flicking a switch, the room darkened. "I can handle her. If I need anything, I'll page." 

Before they departed,  they each came to wish me a good rest of my evening. Louis gave me a bright smile, promising tomorrow would be a much better day. Nurse Harry, checking my blankets were secure, wished me a good night. 

"I'll see you when the sun's up," he told me. "You're in good hands now."

They both left, and it became just me and Dr. Cumberbatch.

I sighed, my heart deflating. 

Dr. Cumberbatch came over to my bedside with a chair. He sat down in it quietly, his blue-green gaze falling watch over me. After a moment's silence, I heard pen on paper as he started on his notes.

I didn't move, weak, fragile. My heart arched, my mind violated. I had nothing left to cry inside of me about, yet I felt the void of Dr. Hiddleston's absence. Something inside of me longed to see him, to hear his voice as he promised to care for me. 

If he was here, perhaps the night wouldn't have been so bad....

I didn't need to look at the clock to know this was going to be the start of a very long night.

*

~ unedited

Chapter Text

^

I awoke to the sound of quiet beeping and a dark blurry ceiling. Something heavy tugged at my bones, a safe and cozy sensation, ushering gently for me to closed my eyes again and go back to sleep. I almost did, but another beep quietly came, pricking my tired curiosity.

Waiting again for the beep, I listened to it's rhythmic pattern that sounded every few seconds. I looked up at the ceiling, my vision clearing the longer I focused. When I could make out it's color, a white that appeared grey under the absence of light, I slowly traced my eyes down to where the beeping sound was coming from.

It came from a brightly light monitor that was decorated with different readings. I squinted at the display for a moment, noticing the small wires that were hooked to it. I followed them, and - noticing the hospital bed I was in - saw they were somehow attached to me. It was then I felt the small electrodes and pressure cuff, along with the oximeter, hooked to me.

A louder beep rang out from the monitor as my heart began to race. The sound of footsteps approached quietly, and glancing to the curtain that had been placed next to the bed, saw the shadowy silhouette of a tall figure appear behind it before it was pulled back.

"Good morning," the somewhat familiar face of Dr. Cumberbatch greeted kindly. I didn't return the greeting, glancing worryingly at the heart monitor.

"You're alright, Luna," he said. 

"You don't know that!"

The snap in my voice surprised me. I hadn't expected that, and as a result, my heart picked up again and the monitor beeped again. Dr. Cumberbatch looked at the monitor, his gaze softening. A stethoscope glistened around his neck. 

"I bet waking up in the emergency room isn't exactly the best of ways to stay the morning off," he told me. 

Emergency room?! What was I doing in the emergency room?! 

I looked around the rest of the room I was in, spotting the medical equipment and, inhaling, catching the scent of disinfect. It wasn't big, yet it was familiar, as if I'd been here before recently. Too recently....

"This is the room I was brought to the night I came in, isn't it?" I quietly asked. Dr. Cumberbatch gave me a small nod.

"It was," he said. 

A trickle of fear slipped down my throat. Something scratched my mind, a blurry and fuzzy memory surfacing.

A doctor in a white coat came running forward, his voice slow and distorted as he spoke to the two men, the paramedics, wheeling the stretcher underneath me. "Bring her here," he ordered sharply.

The stretcher moved. It turned a corner, then took a left. I didn't feel that though, too far gone in my mind and tears. Bright lights flashed down on me. A door opened. I was wheeled forward.

Someone asked my name. A hand, kind and gentle, yet firm, felt my forehead, hot and dizzy. The man in the white coat listened to my heart, he flashed a small light in my eyes to see if I was there in that room with them. I wasn't and was at the same time. Physically, I laid on the stretcher, but within, I was adrift and lost. 

I couldn't speak, couldn't move. I could do nothing but let my mind tear me apart. The world spun around me in chaos, the colorful scrubs of nurses and the white of the man's coat running around to care for me. Again, I was asked my name. Again, I could not respond. 

The world tried to bring me back. My mind held me hostage though. It covered my ears, covered my mouth. It suffocated me with pain. It hugged me viciously, promising to never let me go. It told me more pain was on it's way and that there was no point bracing myself. It would find me when I least expected it. 

All I could do was cry.

"What happened?"

The question was almost too quiet to catch, but Dr. Cumberbatch heard my quivering tone, and glancing again at the heart monitor, allowed a few moments of silence between us before saying truthfully, "We believe you had a very bad dream. A night terror."

I sighed, my brain blank from any recollection of having had experienced any bad dream. My fingers nervously picked at the blanket covering me and keeping me warm. "Was this l-last night?" Or the reason why I was brought here in the first place? 

"Late evening, Nurse Harry and Nurse Louis heard you screaming, and coming to see what was wrong, found you in an inconsolable state of tears and panic. Worried, since you wouldn't wake up right away when they tried to rouse you and when eventually you did, continued crying, you were brought down here for me to check. You've been here since," Dr. Cumberbatch explained gently.

I didn't want to believe him, but he had to be telling the truth. It would explain perfectly why I was in this room with all this scary medical equipment around me. It could also explain the reasons for the heart monitor and pressure cuff I was hooked to, tracking my vitals as they tried to recover from the violet night. 

"D-Did anything else happen?"

Dr. Cumberbatch slipped the sethoscope from around his neck. "You, unfortunately, made yourself terribly sick." 

I was already sick. "Sick?" 

"You threw up from all your crying," he said, and gesturing to my hospital gown, asked, "May I give your heart a little listen?"

That was lovely to hear. It gave a explanation as to why my stomach felt slightly nauseous and too empty. I pouted, crossing my arms over my chest. It was far too early for him to be poking and prodding me with his icky tools. I still had questions I needed him to answer.

"What time is it?"

"Just a little past 6 in the morning," he told me.

"How long will I be here?"

He smiled tightly, "I don't know that yet. You weren't doing well, and I want to make sure you're good before anything else happens. I may keep you here for a little bit to monitor your health and recovery."

I lowered my arms from my chest. I blinked a couple of times before saying, "I'm not your patient, though. You can't keep me here." 

The chill of the stethoscope touching my upper chest sent a shiver through me, Dr. Cumberbatch telling me to breath in deeply a few times. The heart monitor beeped as I did so, Dr. Cumberbatch listening to my heart, which was probably galloping wildly within me. 

I hope he couldn't detect the fear and panic at learning I'd might have to stay under his supervision, prisoner to this room. If so, I hope he could move me elsewhere to another room that didn't make me feel so uncomfortable in my own skin. I also hoped he wouldn't hurt me while he cared for me, however he choose to do that, a feat the wouldn't be easy since I wasn't the easiest to care for. 

I didn't want him caring for me, a stranger still to me. He was present the night I came here, yet that did little to settle the fear of not knowing him well enough. The only times I've seen him outside that night were from glimpses of him conversing with Dr. Hiddleston. I didn't want him to hurt me.

Dr. Cumberbatch, after listening to my heart, took my temperature. Taking out the thermometer, he told me he'd need to place it in my ear for a few brief seconds. I asked him, unhappily, if there was another thermometer he could use. 

"I need to get a good reading," he said. "It won't hurt. I'll be quick and gentle. You won't feel it at all."

"I feel fine," I told him. "I don't have a headache." 

"That's good," he said, inching the thermometer closer, waiting for me patiently. "However, I still need to take your temperature." 

I frowned at him. 

"This thermometer is better than the alternative," Dr. Cumberbatch told me after a few seconds of silence. I flashed my eyes up to him, not having to take any wild guesses as to what exactly that alternative was. There was no way in hell I was letting a thermometer get stuck up my ass. 

"Okay," I said reluctantly, "But, don't poke my eardrums out, please." 

He took my temperature with ease and, using careful movements, lightly inserted the thermometer into my left ear. It tickled a little, but before I could throw any complaints at him, he pulled it out to read. Satisfied with it, he placed it to the side and quickly took my pulse.

"Alright," he told me once he was finished. "You've passed your morning inspection," he picked up the clipboard he had hidden to the side, unclipping a pen to start writing notes on it. "I'll have Nurse Harry come in to get you freshened up for the day, cool?"

While waiting for Nurse Harry to appear, I watched Dr. Cumberbatch as he scribbled whatever it was he was writing, which were most likely notes about me to put into my charts, and undoubtedly give to Dr. Hiddleston later whenever he arrived. When I got tired of that, which didn't last more than two minutes, I ran my hand through the blanket draped over me, surprised at how soft it was. 

It was plush, a pretty baby blue that was wrapped comfortably around my legs and lower stomach, cocooning me in like a snug little bug. I wiggled my toes underneath the blanket, grinning when I caught the movement near the end of my bed. I did it again, flexing my feet, the blanket secure to my movements. Safe and sound. 

Nurse Harry soon arrived, happily greeting me with a bright and cheerful smile. "Good morning, Luna."

"Morning," I returned the greeting softly.

He didn't ask if I'd had a good rest like he'd usually do, and instead, got straight to business in helping me out of the bed. The side rails came down with a soft click and the blanket was unwrapped from underneath me. At it's absence, a chill went up my legs, a shiver going through me. 

Dr. Cumberbatch, before I could get off the bed completely, had to take off the electrodes and pressure cuff still attached to me. It took a couple of minutes, his fingers skillfully removing the sticky electrodes from me, which didn't hurt as much as I'd expected. When the last one was off, he gave Nurse Harry the thumbs up to whisk me over to the bathroom down the hall.

In the restroom, he offered to help change me into a new gown. Embarrassed by the idea of him seeing my bare skin, I immediately told him I didn't need any assistance. 

"I can do this," I told him firmly, pointing  at the closed bathroom. "You can wait outside."

Nurse Harry smiled at me. "Sorry, boo. I gotta keep you within my eyesight."

"Why?" 

"You're a high dependency-patient, love."

I scowled at his words, disliking the status they categorized me under as a patient in their care. I knew I was a high case for them, but hearing high-dependency made me feel somewhat upset, and a little hurt. It also left me feeling extremely self-consience. 

It was this new level of self-consciencness that had me ordering Nurse Harry out of the bathroom again unsuccessfully. He refused to budge though, looking at me symatically with his green caring eyes. 

Again, I tried and tried, repeating that he leave me be. He ignored me completely though, and seeing I was working myself up into a pathetic frenzy, he tried to reassure me I was safe. Eventually, I stopped trying, and sighing out in frustration and defeat, slumped over to the toilet. 

I dropped my face into my hands. I took a few breaths to collect myself, holding back the sting of tears threatening to escape. "Please, Harry," I mumbled. "Please, just leave me alone." 

Nurse Harry approached me. "Luna, what's wrong?" 

There was a lot wrong about this situation. Was he blind, stupid, or both? I didn't want him seeing any part of me, bare and at his full exposure. I didn't want him seeing what he had no right to see. My body was mine alone, and I've walked on too much shattered glass already to preserve my dignity. I could take care of myself. 

However, despite my feelings, something within me told me I was safe in his presence. That whatever happened in this small room, whatever he saw, would be kept confidential between us. He wouldn't see anything he wasn't suppose to, yet if he did, he'd respect my image. 

"Turn on the water, please." I told him. 

He listened to me this time, quickly going to the sink to turn the facet on. The sound of water filled the space. It was loud enough to cover any other sounds, and I quickly slipped down the disposable undergarment I wore to relieve myself. Harry took interest in the small mirror, waiting until I'd flushed before turning to focus on me again. 

I went over to the sink, placing my hands underneath the running water. Harry held out a paper towel for me to dry my hands with, and I accepted it quietly. I tossed it into the trash, and Harry opened the door for me to lead back to the emergency room. 

Back in the room, I went to the bed, immediately seeking the blue blanket's warmth and security again. However, I didn't get far before I was halted by Dr. Cumberbatch asking me kindly to change into a new pair of clothes for the day.

I glanced at the small bundle of clothes he held out for me, noticing the familiar material of the disposal underwear. I thought of asking for real underwear, but sensing I would probably be picking a fight I wouldn't win, accepted the bundle. 

"Stay behind the curtain," I pointed to the said curtain. Dr. Cumberbatch quirked an eyebrow at me. "Please," I added. 

He give me a smile of approval, and shuffling back, drew the curtain so I only saw his and Nurse Harry's tall silhouettes. I watched the curtain for a couple seconds to make sure they stayed put before quickly changing. 

I pulled the new hospital gown over my head, wiggling my arms through the short sleeves. It was a simple blue with little outlines of clouds - a design I found to be very childish - that went down to the middle of my knees. I silently cursed the disposable underwater before slipping it on around my slender hips. 

Behind the curtain, Dr. Cumberbatch called out, "Do you need help with anything?" 

"No," I quickly said, hating how the underwear crinkled when I twisted my legs into movement. It still felt wrong to wear, like it was a nappy instead of just underwear that could be easily thrown away. I dumped my used clothes into a pile before trying to crawl into the bed and blue blanket. 

I squeaked in surprise as a hand, belonging to Dr. Cumberbatch, appeared behind me to assist me into the bed. I drew my legs to my chest, my eyes widening at the unexpected contact of him touching me. Startled and surprised, I couldn't muster up the voice to yell at him, and instead, watched quietly as he arranged the blue blanket around me, letting it hang off my shoulder's comfortably before tucking it underneath my bottom. 

"Would you like something for breakfast?" 

I hugged my knees, unresponsive. 

"Luna?" Dr. Cumberbatch asked again. "Breakfast?" 

I only stared at him as a sense of paralyzing fear crept through me. 

Dr. Cumberbatch observed my quietness, his brows furrowing. "Luna? What's wrong?"

I bite my lip, ducking my head into my knees to shield him from seeing the tears that were appearing. 

I was getting tired of being asked what was wrong with me. 

"Luna?" 

I wanted, no, needed Dr. Cumberbatch to shut up. 

"Luna? Honey?" 

Nurse Harry also needed to shut up. 

A hand touched me, rubbing gentle circles against my curled up back. I flinched, but I didn't dare move, afraid whoever was trying to calm me, either Dr. Cumberbatch in his stupid white coat and his stethoscope, or Nurse Harry in his too brightly colored scrubs, would hurt me if I tried getting away. 

I made the mistake of blinking, and a hot tear dropped down my check. I failed to hide the small cry of fear and anxiety that surged from my trembling lips. The hand rubbing my back paused as I quietly began to weep. 

"Please," I said through tears. "Don't hurt me here. I don't want to be hurt anymore. Please, please, please! S-Stop asking me what's wrong with me! I don't know what's wrong and I want to know. I need to know. Stop giving me your pity. Stop touching me. Stop trying to put me back together just so you can break me down again. Stop lying to me." 

A strong arm embraced me. 

I squeezed my eyes shut. "Stop telling me you care about me just so you can hurt me. Stop telling me you're the only reason I'm alive. That what you've done to me is right. That I deserve everything you did to me and I have what's coming for me. That I'm not just for your twisted entertainment when your demons take over. Please, don't find me. Please, don't drag me home. Please, please, please! Just leave me alone." 

The arms around me squeezed against me tightly. I hiccuped into the person's embrace, shuttering weakly as tears dampened my face and triggered memories. I wept, hoping whoever held me wasn't real, but at the same time, was. That whoever had me, their arms wrapped gently around me, wouldn't disregard my pain. That they'd be okay in seeing me fall apart a million times over before I could start to get better. That they'd understand why I was falling apart and was so broken inside in the first place. 

That it wasn't the person who brought me here hugging me.

"Please," I repeated. "Just leave me alone." 

The arms tightened around me. 

There was a brief silence and a few more of my tears escaped. 

"Luna," someone softly whispered above me. 

I opened my eyes. 

Dr. Hiddleston looked down at me.

*

Dr. Hiddleston held me closely. 

Quietly stunned by his surprise appearance, my mind whirling with mixed emotions and confusion, I said nothing. I gaped soundlessly at him, my voice failing me as I tried to figure out if this was my imagination holding me, or if it was really truly him. 

The kind and deeply colored blue of his eyes peered down at me. He was quiet, his face set with heavy concern and worry. There was something in the way he looked at me, as if my sobbing had personally struck him, that revealed a much stronger emotion weighing down on his features. It looked like he'd just experienced a terrible loss, or was in the middle of it, whatever it was he was loosing.

Grief-stricken. 

He stared down at me, grief dug deep within him. 

That display of emotion - an emotion I never thought someone to ever give me - told me enough. 

He was here.

He was real. 

And, from what I'd just confessed while lost in my tears, clearly and deeply upset. 

My vision became wet again. 

His eyes lowered, his arms shifting around me. I was pulled forward, and something - the tip of his chin - touched the top of my head as he tucked me deeper into his embrace. I saw the white of his doctor's coat, clean and pristine. I felt the small vibration of his voice, whispering near my ear.

"You're safe," he said. 

I felt safe in his arms. 

"I'm here," he whispered.

As if signaled by the whisper, a snippet of the night before came back to my traumatized memory, my voice echoing as I'd wept for Dr. Hiddleston. I remembered the look Dr. Cumberbatch gave me when he sadly informed me he wasn't able to see me then, but when morning came, the promise he'd made to let him know I needed him. 

His promise had held true, and now, here I was, safe in Dr. Hiddleston's arms.

Fastened closely to him, he embraced me, saying absolutely nothing. I let him hold me tightly; I felt the security of his grasp, firm yet lucid enough to where, if needed or wanted, I could leave his arms easily. He wasn't holding me in a way that chained me to him. I wasn't being hugged by a threat . 

He was simply holding me. 

I leaned into his warm body, and closing my eyes, let my tears fall freely. The touch of fingers brushed across the trail they left as Dr. Hiddleston cleared them away.

The small gesture spoke volumes of what he thought of my state. He didn't want me crying and with the way he held me, trying to keep me relaxed and grounded. He was trying to take my pain away, and with it, my demons. 

We continued sitting together in silence. While he gently cleared my tears and comforted me, an awful thought - another terrible demon in bloody damn disguise - struck me. It made my body tense, freezing in Dr. Hiddleston's blanketing embrace.

What if he wasn't supposed to here? 

Of course, as a member of faculty at this hospital, he was suppose to be here, responsible for helping patients, however alike or different they from me they were, and see to their recovery. However, it was the here of the present circumstances that had me suddenly worrying and wondering. 

Was he suppose to be here , in this room with me as I shattered apart inside? Was he suppose to be holding me in the way that he currently was, kind, gentle, and soothing, as if he was holding a fragile young child instead of an unstable teenager? Was he suppose to have his chin resting on my head that let him tuck me so close to his side? Was I suppose to be hearing the rhythmic sound of his soothing heartbeat underneath the white coat he wore? 

Was this right ? His arms, strong and long and protective, were they allowed to be holding me so dearly? The scent of him, which reminded me of fresh pine and cinnamon, was I suppose to inhale and let comfort me? Was he suppose to feel how small I was next to his large exterior? Was he suppose to be close enough to run his agile fingers through my tousled hair that was in good need of a nice brush? 

Was he suppose to touch my tears? And once he felt them and the pain they carried, gently wipe them away?

Was he allowed to feel how broken I was inside? Was he allowed to be witness to the brave front I put on everyday to cover up my scars? Did I belong in his arms?

Was this appropriate? 

Was he allowed to be in this room with me? Would he be allowed to stay, or under protocol, be ordered to leave? Would he write me a prescription to keep his distance after this moment was through? Would my existence and pain disappear to him the moment we were separated? 

When I needed him most, would he be here? 

The answers to these whirling questions were too frightening to consider, yet my demons within already knew the answers to most of them. I couldn't bring myself to acknowledge those answers though - horrible answers that would take this moment away - and, suddenly overwhelmed with doubts and a feeling of unease, let more tears appear.

Dr. Hiddleston brushed those tears away as well, observing me quietly. I leaned into his touch, half of me thankful for his presence, while the other half, tattered and torn, whispered how wrong this was. 

He shouldn't be holding me like this. 

He shouldn't be wiping away my tears so softly. 

He shouldn't be seeing me like this. 

But he was. 

He was here . When I needed him, he was here. He had come to see me and recuse my mind from hitting the pavement. He'd softened the blow, his voice urging me back. Away from the ledge and into a harbor of safety. 

The danger had passed, but he knew the ledge was still in my line of sight. So, to soothe my worries and thoughts, he engulfed me into his arms where I'd not see the cruelty of my world. He was giving me a place of shelter from the storm within me. 

I clung to him and he let me. I pressed myself further into him, inhaling his scent. I closed my eyes, leaned my head forward to rest against his solid chest. I let the sound of his heart fill the silence around me. 

He cradled me close. The last of my tears disappeared beneath the tips of his fingers. He said nothing as he peered down at me with angst in his blue eyes. A beautiful silence, broken only by the soft beating of his heart as background, graced the room that had once been loud with my tears. 

"I'm here," I heard him say. 

He was here. He was here holding me so dear. 

"You are safe," he said. 

I gave him a little more of my trust. 

I took another step forward in my heart. 

I believed in his promise.

*

~ unedited

Chapter Text

^

I don't know how long I stayed there in Dr. Hiddleston's hug. I didn't, couldn't, keep track of the seconds that ticked by as we sat there together, quiet and still. I didn't want to, and I was very grateful I couldn't see any clock in the room we were in.

It let me not think of things I did not want to think about. The absence of time let me not worry about the bad I was going through right now, and instead, gently forced me to focus on only the good. This good, however brief it was to be, was the simplicity of just having someone near to me that I was softly beginning to trust. I didn't need much right now, I just needed someone to keep me company until I could settle with being alone again....

Dr. Hiddleston hugged me, his arms, a safe cocoon of white and unspoken security. He didn't move, didn't dare, as I stayed close, my head leaning against his chest. His chin was placed gently on top of mine, and his heartbeat let out a comforting rhythm. The blue blanket, he somehow managed to bring around me into a warm swaddle of sorts. At one point, as I relaxed against him, my fingers had started playing with the blue soft fabric.

We were like that for a good while. Me held in his arms safely as he embraced me. I don't know how long, but the time did not matter, or if it did, I didn't think much of it. I just let myself be, let myself drift, let myself relinquish Dr. Hiddleston as he cradled me.

It was the sound of a very quiet growl that drew our embrace apart.

Dr. Hiddleston peered down at me. "Hungry?" he softly asked me.

I wanted to shake my head no in hopes of staying in his hug longer, but another growl, louder this time, emitted from my tummy. He chuckled at the noise.

"Erm...," I said quietly. "I may be just a little hungry."

"Well then," he said, sitting up a little straighter. "Let's see what we can get you."

He untangled himself, and me, from the hospital bed, raising. I saw his coat was a little wrinkled, and when I went to apologize about it, he shooed my apology away with the reassurance that a few wrinkles weren't anything to worry over. He tapped in a message on his pager and told me breakfast was on its way down.

"Come in," Dr. Hiddleston called out when a knock sounded outside the room, and a moment later, the familiar figure of Dr. Cumberbatch appeared with a small tray of food.

I grinned at him, thanking him quietly when he set the tray down.

"Of course," he told me.

The breakfast he'd brought in was some porridge, cut up fruit, and two drinks. I said nothing when I recognized the red cranberry juice, quietly reaching for the water first before picking up the spoon to start on my porridge.

Dr. Hiddleston sat down in a chair next to the bed, observing me as I ate. Dr. Cumberbatch took a seat on the opposite side of the bed, both watching me with mindful expressions. I tried my best to concentrate on my meal, each bite an effort to keep from thinking of the nausea I'd apparently endured last evening.

Halfway through with my bowl, I set my spoon down. I glanced at the fruit, my appetite vanishing as my brain, tired and weak, struggled to remember my sickness. I chewed on my bottom lip, sucking it in.

"How bad d-did I get sick?"

"Bad?"

I looked at Dr. Cumberbatch. "You said I got sick. I threw up." My stomach affirmed that statement as a phantom wave of nausea went through me. "H-How bad was it?"

"You were very distraught last night, and your body didn't react well to it," Dr. Cumberbatch answered quietly. "You threw up more than we would've liked."

I shot a peek at Dr. Hiddleston, who sent me a low grin that didn't reach his eyes. I looked back at Dr. Cumberbatch. "I don't remember it very well."

"We figured you wouldn't," he glanced at Dr. Hiddleston.

"Was I supposed to?"

"You displayed signs of having experienced a very icky night terror," Dr. Hiddleston said. "Most night terrors, unlike nightmares and bad dreams, can't be remembered. When you were found, you were crying, screaming. It was very difficult to calm you, and it wasn't until you were physically sick that you finally began to settle."

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why can't I remember?"

"Well," Dr. Hiddleston sighed. "I'm afraid I can't exactly say why. However, your condition, your anxiety, can be a contributing factor as to why you had it. They're not something, night terrors, I suggest to be worth remembering."

"So, you're happy I don't remember?"

"I'm not happy you had to experience such a scary thing, Luna," Dr. Hiddleston claifed gently. "Whatever triggered it, I'm not happy about either, and I'm sorry for what's happening."

My fingers began playing with the edge of the soft blanket. "What's going to happen now?"

Is my treatment plan going to change again?

"Well," Dr. Hiddleston said, glancing over at Dr. Cumberbatch. "Nothing much, really. As you were probably already told, you'll be kept under close observation for a little while to get you stabilized again. You need rest, and I don't think talking about what happened would get us anywhere."

Talking about last night, a night I couldn't remember, would definitely get us nowhere good. A  sense of relief went through me, and my brain - having been ready to swirl and twist in hopeless despair of recalling memories that weren't there - gave a very quiet whoop! I wouldn't say it, didn't need to, but I was glad I wasn't going to be pushed into talking or doing anything at the moment. Nothing that would make me reflect on my demons ripping me apart, hear the yells of a past trying to find me again and bring me home.

"Luna?"

I jerked, my head snapping up to look at Dr. Hiddleston. He was peering at me worriedly. "Mh?"

"Are you okay? You went quiet for a second."

I smiled, glancing down at the blue blanket. "I'm fine."

All three of us knew that was a lie.

I wasn't fine. If I was, I wouldn't be here, in the room with two concerned doctors hovering over me. I wouldn't be in the emergency crisis department, I wouldn't be feeling so sick to my stomach. I wouldn't be sitting here, feeling so crappy and vacant and overwhelmed. I wouldn't be trying to block out the bad while trying to keep only the good in my world right now.

If I was fine, I'd have never been brought here that fateful night. I'd have a perfect memory without any missing puzzle pieces. I'd not have woken any of the dead with my screams of horror as I heard my demons celebrate in my head. I'd not have been hooked up to monitors. I'd not have called out for Dr. Hiddleston, crying scared and petrified like a small child living in the dark. I wouldn't have felt his arms around me, anchoring me to his world, and his soft words of the promise of I was safe.

I would not have clung to him so desperately. None of my tears would've drenched his white coat. My sobs and wails would not have revealed a crack in my foundations, that I'd  just spewed out fragmented clues as to what was causing such pain in my world. There were pieces of me that were slowly starting to chip and crack, and people were starting to see it. My tower was falling, and I didn't know how to stop it, or, when it finally hit the ground, see the broken pieces that would be left. I didn't want that, to fall and shatter, but I was losing control. I was getting more and more vulnerable as more of my cracked interior began slipping through. That vulnerability, exposing to others pieces of myself I kept barred, absolutely terrified me.

I wasn't fine.

I didn't like that.

But, I had to accept not being fine.

And, unfortunately for me, this night terror thing I experienced last night came with the new territory of not being fine.

"Luna," Dr. Hiddleston called my name again.

I did it again, didn't I?

"I'm sorry," I said.

"You're okay. It's been a long night." Dr. Hiddleston said, grinning understandably. "How about you take a little nap? See how you feel after a little shut-eye?"

Are you leaving me?

"I'm not sleepy," I quickly said.

"You had a distributive evening," Dr. Cumberbatch replied. "You need more rest."

How much more? And, if I closed my eyes, would my demons come back? Would they laugh at me again? When I woke up, would I see Dr. Hiddleston's white coat again? Would he be here, nearby and close enough to comfort me again if I shattered into tears again?

"I'll try," I clasped the blanket more tightly between my fingers.

Dr. Cumberbatch stood up from his chair, and asked if I wanted any more bites from my tray, to which I said no, picked it up to remove from the room. While he was out, Dr. Hiddleston kindly told me I had nothing to worry about with Dr. Cumberbatch's presence.

"He's going to take very good care of you," he explained.

"Aren't you supposed to be the one taking care of me?" I said, unconvinced. "You're my doctor, not him."

Dr. Hiddleston chuckled softly. "I am, but so is he. He saw you the first night you were here, and he's in charge of caring for your physical well-being. You've got a team of people here who want to help you get better."

"He'll get me better?"

"We'll get you better."

When Dr. Cumberbatch returned, I was asked if I needed to go to the restroom before, shaking my head no, he began to reattach the electords and monitors to me. I asked why I was being hooked up again to the room's contraptions.

"I want to make sure everything's alright," Dr. Cumberbatch said as he placed an electrode on my chest.  I remained quiet when the pressure cuff was put on my arm again and the oximeter was secured over an index finger.

"Alright," he said when he'd looked at my vitals to check they were being read properly. "I think we're all ready for a nap."

Dr. Hiddleston, smiling, adjusted my blue blanket over me, making sure I was all cozy and tucked in. "I'll see you soon, alright."

"Okay."

I wanted to say more than just okay to him before he left me. I wanted to crawl back into his arms, and - sorry, blue blanket - have him blanketing me as I tried to sleep. I wanted him to hold me again, needed him to tell me he wasn't going anywhere. That he'd make sure nothing hurt me while I napped. That he'd be there for me when I opened my eyes again.

With one last grin, and a glint of something flashing through his gaze that made it look like he, too, didn't want to leave me, nodded at Dr. Cumberbatch. "Page if anything happens," he said.

"Of course."

Dr. Hiddleston stepped back from the bed, and I saw, turning onto my side, him disappear behind the curtain. I heard the sliding door open quietly as his silhouette exited the room, and going left, disappeared from sight.

*

I pretended to nap.

I closed my eyes, drawing my knees closer to my chest. I tried to block out the noises of the monitors surrounding me, beeping here and there quietly to say I was still alive. Dr. Cumberbatch was nearby, sitting and watching, pen in hand as he noted anything he thought would help later.

I heard his pen on paper, the sound of notes and messy handwriting. I felt the sticky, small electrodes scratching my skin, tracking my vitals. The blue blanket, fluffy, soft, and warm, felt like a safe little cocoon. I wondered where such a nice piece of material came from, why it felt so nice on me, why it was covering me and not someone else. It didn't belong on me.

If I wasn't snuggled underneath this blanket, I'd probably be elsewhere. Away from this hospital, and all these nurses and doctors trying to get me better. I'd be lost in between aisles of bookcases, my eyes scanning for titles at the small local library near my orphanage that was my only place of escape. I'd want to find my answers quickly, and so, log into the computers for an hour-limit of research.

In that hour, I'd start to play detective on why I wasn't fine.

In that hour, I'd learn more about the anxiety ruining my life and sleep, the symptoms I was displaying, and, if I was lucky, any treatments to get me better and home. However, if that really happened, and I wasn't lying to myself through a daydream, that hour would reveal much more than just that.

My anxiety wasn't simple. It was complex and debilitating. It was more than just feeling fear and worry whenever something alarmed me. It wasn't the kind of anxiety that was normal for a teenager my age to have. It was abnormal, extreme, and hidden in plain horrible sight.

This anxiety was changing me. It was hurting me, my body releasing chemicals that were making me go haywire all inside. The monitors I was  hooked to were to track any changes in my heart rate and pulse, and whenever Dr. Cumberbatch took my temperature, it was probably to see what was going on with my fluctuating body temperature.

My body was changing and hurting, conflicted with how to accurately respond and react. I wanted to scream I was fine just to be left alone, but at the same time, cry for someone to notice my wounds.

My anxiety was drowning my thoughts with dread. I was being consumed by fears that were ridiculously childish and impulsive. I didn't want anything to do with Dr. Hiddleston before yesterday, but now, I missed his presence. I wanted him back, and didn't want him to leave me.  I was in a new situation, a new environment I did not like. I was being shy, reluctant to believe I was safe with Dr. Cumberbatch and I'd get better under his watch. I couldn't stop thinking about the bad things that could happen the longer I stayed here.

I wasn't doing okay with this anxiety.

I was lying I was alright. That I wasn't scared to speak in case I said the wrong thing and got in trouble. That the physical symptoms I was now experiencing could no longer be ignored, and that my disturbed sleep was really only the beginning to a very rough road ahead.

As I laid there underneath the blue blanket, I wondered if I'd ever be okay again. Would I get to go 'home' after this? What else would come my way during this battle? How much would I lose? How else would I change? How much sicker would I have to become before I got better again?

And, throughout this all, where would Dr. Hiddeston be in all of this? Would he be close by, or far away? Did he understand what was happening right now? Did he know how badly I needed him? Did he know I missed him, that for some reason, he seemed like the only person who understood the depths of the waters I was drowning under. Did he realize something had changed between us when I called out his name? When he held me, whispered to me that he was here, did he know the effect it would have over me? Did he know how much I needed him?

I wondered what he was doing, and how we got here. Shuffling onto my back, I stared up at the ceiling, and stopped pretending to sleep. Dr. Cumberbatch said nothing, but I felt his intense gaze on me, his pen pausing.

The heart monitor went on beeping. I smiled tightly. Was there a volume button on the monitor? If there was, how loud would it have to be for Dr. Hiddleston to hear? How long would I have to wait before he heard me, and stopping whatever he was doing, come see me?

How loudly would my little heart have to break for him to come rescue me?

*

I'd never know about it, but after Dr. Hiddleston left me, he went back to his office. It was early Saturday morning, and he was supposed to have the weekend off. However, when he woke up to Dr. Cumberbatch calling him about my evening, he didn't think twice before jumping into his car to see me.

I'd never know about it, but when he learned I was in the emergency department, something hot and fierce went through him. When Dr. Cumberbatch told him I needed him, that something, an emotion he couldn't make out yet, had him pressing the pedal to the metal as he literally sped - going well over the speed limit - to the hospital. He practically ran into the building, not caring how fanatic he appeared.

Halfway down the corridor of the Psychiatric Crisis Department, he caught the sound of crying. When he approached the room I was crying in, he paused before the sliding door, bracing himself for what he was going to see. A sight he didn't want to see, a child so lost and confused, in need of someone to come save them.

The sliding door opened, and Dr. Cumberbatch ducked his head out.

"She needs you, Thomas," he said quietly.

Dr. Hiddleston felt something tug at him, beckoning him to enter the room. The sound of me crying  reached his ears, my voice shaking as  I wept. "Please," he heard me sputter between tears. "Don't hurt me here."

He listened heartbreakingly as I continued, hearing me cry. I  begged to not be hurt anymore, to be left alone and not asked what was wrong. I demanded to know answers he couldn't give me yet, ordered weakly and hopelessly to stop being given pity I did not want. I wanted the lying to stop.

My words were terrible darts to his heart.  I never saw the range of emotions that went through him as I said these things - the rage, the fear, the angst, and guilt that went through his blue gaze - but I felt the physical reaction. He didn't need to hear much after that before he had his arms wrapped around me.

I'd never know about it, but when he held me, sobbing freely into his chest, he never wanted to let me go. He was afraid that if he did, I'd break apart beyond repair. When he spoke my name, he hoped I'd hear the worry clattering within him, and if I listened to his own heart, how quick it raced.

He embraced me closely, letting me cry. He didn't care how it looked to anyone else with the way he cradled me. He just needed me in his arms, to cry and seek comfort in him. I fit perfectly in his arms, the perfect mold to weep and cradle. When he cleared away my tears, they stained his fingertips in agony.

I'd never know it, but when he left me to rest, that was the very thing he wanted to do. He didn't want to leave me alone, and if he could, I'd be asleep in his arms instead. I was in good hands with Dr. Cumberbatch,  but that didn't ease the anxiety now gnawing at his stomach as he sat in his dark office.

I'd never see him in his office as he sat there and worried. His pager was nearby, and on full volume, ready to send him flying back down to see me. My file and information, both on his computer and in the paper folder he had opened on his desk, was on full display for him to figure out and treat. However, his thoughts kept drifting back back down to where I laid, alone, exhausted, and quietly wishing he was still holding me.

He didn't know what was happening. Why was he feeling so afraid? So protective? Why did a little piece of him long for me again? Why was he disappointed I'd not asked him to stay when he left? Why hadn't I shown I still needed him?  If he could have it his way with his emotions running the show, I'd still be in arms.

I'd never know it until much later, but I wasn't just a patient to him anymore. Things were changing between us. A line had been drawn, and crossed, but by who, it was too hard to say.

An invisible knot had been tied between us. And, we wouldn't know it until much later, but neither of us wanted to let it go.

*

~unedited

Chapter Text

^

I did fall asleep.

Eventually.

After overthinking and worrying, my eyes shut, and I fell into a light slumber. While I snoozed, or tried to, I caught the quiet sounds and noises of any visitors that entered the room, hearing half conversations between Dr. Cumberbatch and whoever he quietly spoke to.

"How's she doing?"

Nurse Harry.

"Better than last night," Dr. Cumberbatch told him. "Her vitals are holding steady, which is good."

"Do you know what she was upset about earlier?"

"She's a lot to be upset about right now," Dr. Cumberbatch sighed. "She doesn't want to be here, understandably so, and last night was probably the very last thing she needed to go through."

"No shit," Nurse Harry mumbled.

Dr. Cumberbatch chuckled. "We'll get her back on her feet."

Will you?

The next conversation I caught snippets from was a little later, and Nurse Louis had popped in to see how I was doing.

"It was frightening," I heard him say.

"I'm sure it was," Dr. Cumberbatch said.

"She couldn't wake up, like she was being held hostage somewhere within her mind. Something was hurting her," Nurse Louis shared with the older man.

"The mind can be a scary place," Dr. Cumberbatch sympathized.

If you saw just how scary my mind was, you'd see why it was the perfect spot to bring all my demons to life.

Their voices faded together as I dropped back to sleep. When I awoke next, my eyes sealed shut in a dazed trance, a soft touch was readjusting the blue blanket over my curled body.

"How long has she been asleep?"

Dr. Hiddleston!

"A couple hours," Dr. Cumberbatch said. "I'm going to let her sleep for a little while longer, see if she comes around herself, before waking her for lunch."

"Keep me updated," I heard Dr. Hiddleston say before my mind went black again and he disappeared. When I awoke next, Dr. Cumberbatch was calling my name. I groaned reluctantly.

"Luna," he said.

I didn't want to wake up to him. I wanted Dr. Hiddleston waking me, his arms embracing me closely.

"Luna," he tried again, and I felt the warm blanket over me get pulled aside. "Can you hear me, dove?"

I cracked my eyelids open.

Dr. Cumberbatch smiled softly at me. "Hey, there."

I tried closing my eyes again, but he stopped me, saying quickly, "Hey, no. Keep your eyes open for me, Luna."

"Why?" I mumbled.

"You need to eat something," he told me. "And, well, you can't eat lunch asleep."

I didn't have much of an appetite, too sleepy to want to do anything but slump back under my blanket. However, feeling Dr. Cumberbatch wouldn't take that as a valid exercise to skip out on a meal, I didn't protest.

"How do you feel?" he asked while he helped me sit up and began taking off the electrodes. I yawned, rubbing my eyes and said, "O-Okay."

"Okay?"

"I don't feel sick anymore."

"That's good," he placed the electrodes to the side and picked up a thermometer. "May I?"

I nodded, holding still as he checked my temperature. Checking it, he said my temperature was looking well and then asked to give my heart a little listen. I shivered when his cold sethethoscape touched me.

"Sorry," he said.

"Y-You're fine." I shivered again, my fingers squeezing the blue blanket. He told me to do a few deep breaths, to inhale, hold, and then exhale a couple of times. When he was done, he praised me quietly, apologizing again for the chills.

"Nurse Harry will be here shortly to take you to the restroom," he picked up his clipboard, unclipping his pen to start recording down his notes. "You're looking really good."

Good enough to leave this room?  I glanced around the room, grey and white, the only splash of color coming from the blue mint wall behind me that was decorated with medical equipment and monitors. I'd not noticed it before, but there was a light fixture that hung from the ceiling. I looked toward the ground, frowning at its hard gray-looking appearance. Behind Dr. Cumberbatch, pressed up against the far-right wall, there were medical cabinets and carts, a few medical trays that could be freely wheeled around, and, in the corner, as if hidden, a few IV poles.

At seeing these things, I realized just how scary this room was. When I first came here, I was too out of it to recognize anything, but now, as I took in the room, I felt uncomfortable and like I was getting ready to be experimented on. I felt very out of place. Like I wasn't suppose to be here. Like there was something very terribly wrong with me.

I glanced up the light fixture hanging above me. It wasn't on, but if it was, I'd probably be squinting against its invasive glow, bright and perfect to expose anything wrong with me. I hoped, glancing quickly at Dr. Cumberbatch writing away on his clipboard, he'd never turn it on and blind me.

Movement flickered by the door, and Nurse Harry appeared, walking through them with a kind look on his face.

"Hey," he greeted as he approached the side of the bed. "Did you have a good nap?"

I nodded. I guess.

"Good," he smiled.

With Dr. Cumberbatch's assistance and close eye, I was helped out of bed. He followed us to the door, giving me an encouraging nod. "When you're back, I'll have your lunch ready."

Nurse Harry guided me down the corridor and to the restroom. Like earlier, he entered the small space with me. I tried not to show the unease that went through me at having him in the restroom with me again.

"Erm," I hesitated for a second, glancing at Nurse Harry. I wanted, very politely, to ask him to stand outside, but I already knew he wouldn't. Thankfully, he caught into my unspoken wish, and going over to the sink, turned the water on and closed his eyes.

I quickly went to the toilet, relieving myself. When I flushed, Nurse Harry reopened his eyes and gave me a thumbs up. "You good?"

"Yeah."

He moved aside from the sink to let me wash my hands. He handed me a paper towel to dry them, and thanking him, he held the door open for me. I followed him back to the emergency room.

Dr. Cumberbatch was sat waiting for me by the side of the bed. I approached the bed - which I noticed wasn't a bed, but a stretcher - and saw there was a small tray of food waiting. When Harry helped me back in, I tried not to think of how uncomfortable the stretcher was and the new sensation of nerves and wariness slowly going through me.

"Enjoy," Dr. Cumberbatch said.

"Thank you," I looked at my tray, smiling weakly.

I tried, despite my lack of appetite, to enjoy my lunch. A simple sandwich, ham and cheese, a small salad, and a small chocolate chip cookie. I had two beverage choices, clear water and cranberry juice. Afraid it would upset my stomach from its bitter taste, I didn't touch the cranberry juice and stuck with the water. I munched on half of the sandwich, had a few pieces of salad, and offered the cookie to Nurse Harry.

"You don't want it?" he asked.

"No."

"Do you not like cookies?" Dr. Cumberbatch asked me.

"I'm full."

Dr. Cumberbatch looked at my half-eaten tray. "You didn't eat much."

"I've not much of an appetite." I took a sip of water.

"Is there something wrong with the tray? Did I get you something you don't like?" Dr. Cumberbatch looked at Nurse Harry, adding quickly, "Harry can get you something else? Something you'd enjoy. A treat."

"I'm okay."

Could he get Dr. Hiddleston for me? I wanted to ask where the missing doctor was, but afraid to sound and look pathetically needy for someone I shouldn't need, said nothing. I finished my water, and Dr. Cumberbatch watched me closely. I failed to send him a reassuring smile that I was fine and nothing was wrong.

"Do you want to try the juice?" he pointed at the cup of cranberry juice.

"I'm alright," I said.

Dr. Cumberbatch didn't push it, and clearly seeing I wasn't going to touch anything else on the tray, gestured for Nurse Harry to take the tray. I told him again he could have the cookie if he wanted, hoping he would as not to waste such a sweet treat.

"If you don't want it," I said. "Maybe Nurse Louis?"

"I'm sure he'd appreciate the treat, hon."

Nurse Harry left the room with the tray. I watched him go through the door, and walk away down the corridor. The sound of pen on paper caught my attention, and glancing to the side, saw Dr. Cumberbatch writing again. Good grief was he obsessed with that clipboard!

I leaned against the pillow propping me up, my fingers pinching at the edges of the blue blanket. I saw the light fixture above me. I sighed.

I hope you come back, I whispered up towards the ceiling. Up through the floors and wherever Dr. Hiddleston was, I hoped he somehow knew I was awake and wanted to see him. I didn't have the courage, feeling it would be ridiculously embarrassing, if I asked Dr. Cumberbatch to page him.

I didn't want to be bother. I already had one doctor hovering over me, and that was more than enough. I didn't need to add Dr. Hiddleston to the equation. Not right now. He had other things to do, other people to listen to, watch break apart, and put back together. He didn't need to see me right away. I could wait a little longer.

I wasn't going anywhere anytime soon.

*

Nothing much happened after lunch.

For a good while, I didn't do anything exciting but stare up at the ceiling. I didn't have much to do and keep myself entertained. If I wanted, I could've slipped back to sleep for another nap, but, after being awake for awhile now, didn't feel tired anymore. If I closed my eyes, I'd get swept up in the blackness of my very bored mind.

Dr. Cumberbatch was still sitting next to me, writing his heart out on his clipboard. I didn't think much of trying to start up any small-talk with him, too weary still with his presence, which was still very fresh to me. Sure, he might've been there the night I was brought in, crying and screaming, and not in any good state of mind, but that didn't mean I needed to become buddies with him. When I got out of here, and was home again, maybe I'll send him a thank you card....

He didn't mind my reluctance to talk to him, and didn't try to start any of his own conversations with me. He just sat there, in the chair next to my stretcher bed, his pen flying away at the clipboard. It seemed excessive, the amount of writing he was doing, and an icky thought trickled through my mind. Was all this excessive writing about me?

I didn't want to obsess myself with this troubling thought. However, with nothing else to do, my mind began down a rabbit hole of questions and fears. Was he adding more about me? What was he saying? Would Dr. Hiddleston see his clipboard? Would they compare notes? Would I stay here even longer? Was a list of tests and medications about to come my way? Was this crappy situation about to get even worse? Was my life, already in the trash-bin, about to get even more complicated? Were new flames about to erupt?

My thoughts spiraled. I sighed sadly, hating how one thought inside my head was all it took to tip over the barrel and spill out more concerns. It was tiring, overthinking, over-worrying, picking up on things that didn't need to be picked up. My mind, funny and broken and troubled as it was, liked the hobby of finding the most ridiculous of things to fiddled and fuss over. Whatever it was, it looked at that thought and examined it at all angles, stretching my feelings and emotions wide.

It wasn't a good hobby, but that's what my mind enjoyed doing best. And, right now, as I laid on that stretcher bed, Dr. Cumberbatch was underneath my mind's built in microscope.

I didn't want to encourage my mind's hobby at fretting over him, but I didn't know what else to do. Nothing was stopping me, and picking at the man in the chair next to me was the only thing right now in this silent room that gave me some sort of entertainment. I really hated it, but I couldn't stop myself. Once I got thinking, it was all I could focused on, regardless of how hopeless and terrible it made me feel. I hated thinking the worst of people. If I wanted my overthinking to stop, I'd need an outside distraction....

As if he'd somehow heard my plea, the doors opened and looking away from the ceiling, saw Nurse Louis stroll into the room. He had a folder tucked underneath his arm and a clipboard in his hand.

"Hey," he said when he reached my bed. "How you doing?"

"I'm good," I said.

"Awesome," he held out his free-hand, palm faced outward. "Give me five, kiddo!"

I gently high-fived him.

Dr. Cumberbatch rose from his chair. "She's doing great."

Nurse Louis looked down at me. "That's wonderful to hear."

"It's wonderful to see," Dr. Cumberbatch glanced at his wristwatch, sighing. "I'll be out for a while. Luna," he looked at me. "Be good for Louis, kay? I'll see you in a few."

Dr. Cumberbatch left the room, taking his clipboard with him. Wondering why he was leaving, I thought to ask Louis, but quickly realized he was probably going out for a break. If so, I didn't blame him, and if I were being completely honest, was surprised he'd not gone out sooner. Dr. Hiddleston could've easily taken his place while he'd been out.

Nurse Louis took out the folder and opening it, took out a paper. "I figured," he started, showing me the folder and paper, "you'd like something to do. It's not much," he unclipped the pen that I'd not seen on the other side of the folder and held it out for me. "How good are you with puzzles?"

"Uh," I accepted the folder and pen, and looking at the paper, saw it was a print-out of a word search puzzle. "I'm okay, I suppose. I've not done much of these kind of puzzles, but I can give it a go. It might take some time, but I'm sure I can do it."

"Take your time," Nurse Louis said, sitting down in Dr. Cumberbatch's vacant chair. "If you need any help, just let me know."

"Thank you," I told him.

"No problem," he grinned at me.

I began on the wordsearch, thankful for the distraction. At the bottom of the page, there was a list of about - I silently counted them - sixteen words, noting they were all animals. I started with the first animal, Lion, my focus going through the mixed letters and rows. Each time I came across a L, I hoped to find the next letter, each attempt fruitless until I reached the second to last row. When I found the word, I quickly circled it, and crossing it out, congratulated myself. I jumped when Nurse Louis said, "You're off to a good start."

"Thanks," I replied.

"Sorry if I spooked you. Here," Nurse Louis held up the pen - which had slipped out my hand when I'd jumped - and I took it, thanking him again quietly. Looking back at the puzzle, I began searching for the next animal.

Like I'd done with the first word, I searched for the first letter. This time, the animal, zebra, was quicker to find, and after marking it off, went off to find a long-necked giraffe. I did the same process for the next couple animals, and it wasn't long before I had half the list complete. I tried to stick to the order the animals appeared, and whenever I caught an animal that wasn't the one I was searching for, made a mental note to go back to them later. When I did, sometimes I'd remember their spot, but sometimes, wouldn't.

I was in the middle of trying to re-track the word monkey when the sound of the door opening caught my attention, and looking up, saw Nurse Harry come in. I shot him a very quick smile before going back to the puzzle and the stupid monkey I was trying to find.

"Hey," Harry said.

"Hey, mate," Nurse Louis replied.

Nurse Harry noticed my paper, chuckling. "Are you in the middle of a Safari, Luna?"

"Yes," I said, unclipping and clipping my pen. I was starting to get annoyed with this monkey. He was here earlier! Where the heck did he go?

"What animal are you trying to find, Luna?"

I sighed, and looking away from the puzzle, said. "There was this monkey that I thought I'd found, and I did earlier, but now," I tapped the pen against the paper. "It's like he'd swung right off the page!"

Nurse Louis laughed at that. "Oh, dear!"

Nurse Harry, playfully, looked back at the door, gasping, "That's not good! We can't have a monkey out on the loose. Not here! This isn't the place for monkeys."

"Here," Nurse Louis scooted the chair closer to the bedside. "Let's see if we can find this little monkey."

"That's apparently very MIA," Nurse Harry added.

"Yeah, and I don't think Dr. Hiddleston nor Dr. Cumberbatch would appreciate a monkey running wild around here." I grinned, and letting Nurse Louis see my paper, watched him find the monkey. Nurse Harry came to the other side of the bed, observing as the blue-eyed nurse, after a few minutes of silence, found the monkey.

"Ha," he exclaimed, jabbing his index finger over a letter M in the third row down. "We got you now, mister! Luna, would you care to do the honors?"

I did care, and smiling, circled monkey and crossed his name off the list. Glancing at the remaining animals, I politely asked if he, along with Nurse Harry if he wanted, could help with finding the rest of the animals. They happily agreed, and the next half-hour was spent full of laughter and finishing up this wild animal Safari.

"Good grief, Harold," Nurse Louis teased Nurse Harry when we were on the last animal. "How blind are you?"

"Oh, like you can do any better!" he said, his face scrunched in concentration as he tried miserably to look for a pink flamingo. "You stupid pink long-legged bird! If I don't find you within the next two minutes, guess what I'm having for supper!"

I burst out laughing.

"You wanna try?" he asked me.

"Oh, and see how blind I am, no thanks," I politely declined. "Beside, I wouldn't want to deprive you of your pink feathery meal."

Nurse Harry broke out into a chuckle. Nurse Will shook his head playfully at us. "I don't think that would make a very good meal."

"Mh," Nurse Harry shrugged his shoulders. "You never know till ya try it."

"I hope I never do," I said.

Thankfully, the flamgoo was spared from becoming Nurse Harry's next meal, and he found it, much to his poor eyesight, in the first row. It was spelled backwards, and Louis teased him playfully when he realized just how obvious the word should've been to find.

"It was spelled backwards!" he tried to say.

"Was it?"

"Yes," he shook the paper. "Like you can read backwards!"

"I can read backwards," I boldly claimed.

"Can you?"

"Sometimes."

Both nurses chuckled at the cute remark. Nurse Louis took the paper, and holding it up, praised me for accomplishing it. "You did great!"

"I did my best."

"And that's what really counts," Nurse Harry said, and looking back at him, saw he'd brought out a box of cards. I read out-loud, "UNO?"

"Have you ever played?"

I shook my head. "No."

"You've never played UNO before?"

Was I suppose to?

"I've heard about it, the game." I gestured at the cards he was shuffling. Nurse Louis wheeled over a table tray, placing it between the bed and where Harry sat. He brought over his chair, and plopping down onto it, said happily, "No worries, love. We'll teach you how to play. It's not hard, but fair warning, things heat up quick. This isn't the game you want to play at family game night unless you want it to end in someone packing their bags and a divorce being filed."

"It's that competitive?" I looked between the two nurses and the red cards now being handed out.

"Only if you play in bad spirit and don't take things so seriously." Nurse Harry said. "And if you don't cheat. But, at the end of the day, it's just a fun card game. You ready to have some fun?"

"You mean are you ready for me to mop you across the floor?" I replied, smiling cheekily. "Sure. After you," I gestured at the cards, "explain how I can win."

"Best of luck," Nurse Louis picked up his cards.

The first round was simple and Nurse Harry explained the mechanisms of the game. It was easy, and if you had trouble telling numbers or colors apart, UNO wasn't the game for you. It was a quick thinking game, and depending on what cards you had, you could very easily make another player's life miserable.

Before long, after matching colors and numbers, I was soon shouting "UNO!"

Nurse Harry snapped his fingers, mumbling, "I was just about to say it!"

Nurse Louis was counting his handful of cards, frowning. "Harry, you suck."

I giggled. "It's really unfortunate to be you right now, Nurse Louis."

Harry set a card down on the pile, a color free card, declaring, "Yellow."

Louis gave him a long look. "Are you trying to make my life tortureq right now?"

"Now, why would I do that?"

"Oh, I don't know. Maybe because you've given me all the plus cards, and I don't know, you took all the cards I need, and maybe because you somehow know I don't have any yellow cards!"

Nurse Harry pouted. "What a shame. What a sad shame. Mh. Luna?"

Both nurses glanced at me and my card I had. I looked at it, shaking my head. "What a shame. What a shame, indeed."

I put my card down on the pile.

Nurse Louis dropped his cards as he called his playful defeat. "I've been mopped!"

Nurse Harry nodded impressively at my yellow card. "Good job, love."

I shrugged.

"Wanna mop us across the floor again?"

"Harry, you shouldn't encourage her." Louis gathered up the cards, and started shuffling them.

"Sure, but I think it was just beginner's luck."

"We'll see about that."

We did see about that, and a few games later, I had, as Nurse Harry encouraged, mopped both nurses across the floor again. Nurse Louis came close to winning at one point, but I beat him to calling UNO and his streak of good fortune was over. Nurse Harry also came close, but Louis got his revenge and shouted UNO at him. After that, poor Harry was bombarded with plus cards and mismatching colors.

We played again. And again. We had fun, teased each other happily, and when Nurse Louis eventually won a round, I congratulated him with, much to my surprise, a hug. I promised, once Nurse Harry won, he, too, would get a hug, and when he did the next round, he squeezed me gently into his side. He told me I had the sweetest and kindest of hugs, and Nurse Louis agreed.

We lost track of how long we played, but I couldn't have cared less about the time. I was having fun in this game, and I never wanted it to end. We didn't think twice before starting up a new game, and we eventually started a tally of who won each time. We laughed, we cheered, we encouraged each other to play again when we lost.

Absorbed in the game, I didn't noticed the two men standing just outside the sliding door, peering through the see-through door as we played.

The sound of my laughter caught Dr. Hiddleston's ears, and he watched, from a distance, as I threw up my arms in victory. He couldn't hear my cheer of victory, but he didn't need to. A soft look graced his features.

"You going to see her?" Dr. Cumberbatch asked next to him. "Play a round?"

Yes, Dr. Hiddleston wanted to say, but didn't. "No, it's alright."

"She looks like she's happy."

"She is," Dr. Hiddleston corrupted softly.

"I wonder how much happier she'd be if you were there."

Dr. Hiddleston looked at his friend, smiling. "She doesn't need to see me right now. She's alright. We can wait a little longer." Stepping away from Benedict, he turned and began walking down the corridor.

"She'll want to see you at some point," Dr. Cumberbatch called. "And, deny what I see happening all you want, Tom, but she's become very fond of you. And boy, so have you. She doesn't need to see you right now, but when she does, I hope you'll be there for her. She needs you, and I hope I don't have to explain why. We can wait a little longer, but not forever. It's amazing what a child's silence can say."

Tom stopped. He glanced back at his friend. "Let me know if anything changes."

Benedict watched his friend walk away and disappear. He sighed, and draining the last of his coffee, muttered, "Oh, I will, Dr. Hiddleston."

Throwing his coffee cup in the trash, he scooped up his clipboard. He approached Luna's room, and smiling, stepped through. 

*

Halfway through what seemed our one-hundredth game of UNO, Dr. Cumberbatch reappeared in the room. 

He said nothing, quietly going over to stand next to the bed, and realizing he was sitting in his chair, Nurse Louis quickly tried to return it. 

"No," Dr. Cumberbatch waved his offer down. "Sit. I can stand. Who's winning?" 

Both nurses pointed at me. 

"Really?" Dr. Cumberbatch gave me an impressed look. "Good job." 

"And," Nurse Harry placed a green card down on our pile. "If we don't play our cards right, she'll beat us again." 

"And again," Nurse Louis threw a card down, a green skip card. I huffed at him. "Sorry, Luna," he said. 

"A skip card can't hurt me. I'll win."

"You sure about that?" Dr. Cumberbatch asked. 

"Yes," I nodded. "Watch me." 

Dr. Cumberbatch did, and a few turns later, I was calling out UNO. Another turn, and I was placing my winning card down, a deep pretty blue with a 3 on it. Dr. Cumberbatch gave me a round of an applause. 

"Not bad," he praised. 

"Let's do it again!"

We did it again. Nurse Louis won, and then, another game later, Nurse Harry won. We offered Dr. Cumberbatch to play a game, but he politely declined. 

"You're so boring," Nurse Harry teased the doctor. 

"Oh, please," Dr. Cumberbatch replied. "I can be fun when I want to be." 

He watched as we continued to play. We had fun, the three of us, and I didn't want to stop playing. It was a simple game, but isn't it the most simplest of things that bring the most joy? I was entranced by the blue, green, yellow, and red of the numbered cards, and whenever I got a wild card, felt I'd hit the kiddie version of the jackpot. Every time I won, my face lit up, and a warm rush of excitement and happiness went through me. However, a few hours later, Dr. Cumberbatch sadly had us wrap things up. 

"It's about time for your evening meal," he told me kindly. 

"We can play some more tomorrow." Nurse Harry reassured me as he filed the cards back in their box. 

"Can we?" I quietly asked, slightly disappointed at having to stop. 

"We sure can," Nurse Louis nodded. "Promise." 

"Okay," I looked between the two nurses, grinning softly. "Ummm....thank you for introducing me to such a cool game. I had fun." 

"You're very welcome," Nurse Harry said. "We had fun, too." 

The two nurses left, Nurse Harry promising to return shortly with my evening meal. While waiting, Dr. Cumberbatch checked my temperature and asked me if I'd done anything else with them while he was on his break. 

"I did a word search before we starting playing UNO," I told him. 

"Did you find all the words?" he slipped his stethoscope from around his neck. "May I?" 

I let him place the stethoscope on my chest, letting him listen to my chest and heart. "I found most of the words. Nurse Harry and Nurse Louis helped out with a few of the words." I inhaled, held my breath when ordered, then exhaled. A few listens later, he was finishing, and writing down his observations on his clipboard. 

"That's good to hear," he said. "Puzzles are good for the mind. Healthy. They get you thinking." 

Nurse Harry shortly returned with my dinner. He set it on the table, presenting me with the meal.  In a cute, funny French accent, he annoyed, "For our UNO champion of the evening, we have, for this evening's winning meal, some salad, chicken Alfredo, and, for dessert, a sweet little cupcake. Oh, and we've some water and juice." 

"Thank you," I giggled at his silly accent. 

"Bon appetite, my mademoiselle!" 

I enjoyed the pasta and chicken, and managed, which I blame because of my tastebuds enjoying the warm meal so much, to devour the entire plate. I had the salad, a simple green dish with cheese and light dressing, and, after drinking my water, tried the cupcake. It was sweet, pink, and rich with sparkles and chocolate. 

"Finished?" Dr. Cumberbatch asked when I'd placed the empty cupcake wrapper on the tray. I used a napkin to clean around my mouth and clear away any crumbs, humming my response with a small nod of my head. A few minutes later, Nurse Louis appeared to collect my tray and hand Dr. Cumberbatch a bundle of items. 

"What's that?" I asked, curious at the bundle. 

"A new gown and some stuff to help get you sorted for bed," was his response before he had me ushered out of bed. He walked over to the door, and for a moment, I hesitated to follow. He paused, looking back at me. "Come on, Luna. It's time to get ready for bed." 

Wasn't Nurse Harry supposed to help me with getting ready for bed? Huh? I didn't feel like getting ready for bed, not with Dr. Cumberbatch, but hating to not listen to his instructions, shuffled over to the door. On quiet feet, and something tight starting to squeeze at my stomach, I followed him out into the corridor. 

We reached the bathroom, and Dr. Cumberbatch held the door open for me. I slipped through the door, and he came in after me. The door closed quietly behind us. 

I took a few steps away from him, wondering why he was in the bathroom with me. He wasn't going to be here to hear me pee, was he? I glanced at the door behind him, not liking the unexpected position I was in. I didn't want him in here with me!

Hoping for a distraction, I turned to face the mirror over the sink. In the reflection, I caught Dr. Cumberbatch's white coat as he went over to the toilet. There was a soft clank! as he dropped the toilet lid down and placed the bundle on it. Turning, he went over to the shower stall in the corner of the room, and my ears cringed helplessly as he pulled back the shower curtain. 

"Alright," he said, his head poking into the shower and then facing me. "You've everything you need for a shower, Luna. Shampoos, conditioner, soap. Pop on in. When you're done, I've a towel for you."

I smiled, tightly, at him through the mirror. 

"Luna?" 

I stepped away from the sink. "You can leave." 

Dr. Cumberbatch took a seat on the closed toilet lid,  picking up the bundle and placing it onto his lap. "I won't see anything you don't want me to." 

"Leave." 

"Luna, I'm afraid I can't." 

"Please." 

I didn't want him in this room with me as I showered. I wanted him out. I needed him out. He couldn't stay here and watch. No, no, no. He needed to get out. 

"Luna, I need to keep an eye on you. You're a high-dependency patient. You can't be left alone anymore. I promise, I won't see anything. I've my eyes closed." 

He closed his eyes. 

I felt like punching him. 

I felt like giving him a very good piece of my mind, and my heart, and letting him know just how uncomfortable this shit-show was. The day was just turning around, things felt like they were getting better, and just when they were, he, Dr. Cumberbatch, in his stupid white coat, had to ruin it. Oh, oh, oh!

I bite down on my lip, hard. 

Dr. Cumberbatch still had his eyes closed.

I growled silently. 

You take one peek and I'll find a way to turn you into dead meat. 

Slowly, watching Dr. Cumberbatch as I did so, I undressed myself. I slipped my clothes off, letting them fall to the floor in a heap. The sound of my undergarment was loud, and seemed to echo as I peeled it off. I crushed the material into a ball and quickly slipped into the shower. I pulled the shower curtain, a foggy transparent white, closed. My hands shook when I turned the water on. 

Afraid by Dr. Cumberbatch's presence sitting so close, I didn't enjoy my quick shower. The water was warm, and the curtain became foggier because of the heat. The water rained down over me, warm and refreshing. I bent down to pick up the small travel-size shampoo in the corner on the shower. 

I quickly shampooed and rinsed my hair. After some conditioning, I lathered myself in soap that smelled like fresh fruit. I took my time in this part, careful not to get soap in my eyes. I didn't need Dr. Cumberbatch coming to my rescue to get soap out of my eyes. I didn't need him seeing me like that. 

I rinsed the soap off me, and hoping to prolong the inevitable, stood underneath the shower head for a few minutes longer. I glanced worriedly at the curtain, scared at how I was going to get out without Dr. Cumberbatch seeing me somehow. Could he throw me the towel? 

Eventually, I turned off the water. 

"Luna?" 

"Yes?" 

A distorted shadow appeared, and I caught Dr. Cumberbatch's outline. I closed my eyes, shivering. 

"You done?" 

"Yes." 

The curtain was pulled aside. 

I shrieked. 

"You pervert!" 

"Luna!" 

Dr. Cumberbatch had pulled the curtain aside, but I'd hollered too soon. His face was faced in the opposite direction of the curtain, and his hand was outstretched with a white towel. I couldn't see if he had his eyes closed or not. I didn't know where he was looking. I yanked the towel from his hand, trembling. 

"I'm sorry," I heard him say as he quickly moved away from the curtain. "I should've warned you." 

"No shit, you should've warned me, you fucking pervert!"

I clamped the towel over my mouth, wide-eyed and shocked. Oh god....

I shouldn't have said that. 

Oh, god. 

I glanced at the curtain, fearfully, regretting my existence at the moment, as I heard Dr. Cumberbatch sigh. It was quiet for a few long moments. 

"Your clothes are on the sink counter," he eventually said. His voice, his tone, was quiet and heavy, and tired. It was also laced with deep disappointment. "I'll be outside. Knock when you're done. Be careful getting out. Don't slip." 

He moved, and I saw him pass the curtain. The door opened, then I heard it close. I gripped the towel, gaping soundlessly at just how badly I'd messed up. I just said something cruel, rude, and inappropriate. Oh god, oh god! 

I slipped up. Big time. I wasn't expecting it. I didn't mean for it to happen, and now, Dr. Cumberbatch was, rightfully so, livid with me. 

I slumped my head against the shower wall, the towel hanging around my wet neck. A terrible pit was now in my stomach. 

I sighed. 

My heart sank to the wet floor. 

"Oh, Luna," I muttered to myself. "Why?" 

*

-unedited 

Chapter Text

^

I remained in the small shower space for a little longer.

I stood there, unmoving, silently kicking myself for my stupidity and mistake. A horrible surge of grief and panic held me in paralysis, making it difficult to step out of the shower. My mind was frozen, replaying Dr. Cumberbatch's shock and disappointment in me. It felt unreal, what I'd done, like it shouldn't have happened. It shouldn't have, but it did, and now, I was standing underneath a dripping shower-head with my heart at the bottom of the floor. My stomach, too, was also on the floor.

I should've kept my tongue in check. I could've, would've, should've. My temper, I should've kept in line, reeled in my panic and not jumped to such perverted conclusion (I need to somehow wash that ill word out of my vocabulary). Dr. Cumberbatch, I should not have yelled at, and instead, seen with my own eyes the reality of the situation, which wasn't what my mind had conjured up.

He'd not been looking at me.

No, he'd kept to his promise. He was looking in the opposite direction when I yelled at him. His eyes were securely closed, and even after I threw my first cruel remark at him, he'd immediately apologized. He didn't committed the crime I'd thought he had. He wasn't guilty.

I yelled at him again, added more salt to the wound. I called him that word again. I dropped the f-bomb on him, too, and that's when he drew away for cover. Now, he's sheltering just outside the bathroom door, waiting for me come out.

No, he wasn't sheltering, and if I was in his shoes, waiting for an apology. However, I'd deliver a good mouth-washing first, place whoever insured me in the corner for a time-out, and after a few hours, demand the apology. That's what I would do, no, expected to happen. This wasn't my first rodeo in saying crude words not appropriate for my age to say, and from past experiences, the consequences I'd faced as punishment.

"How dare you," a man's voice roared in my mind. "How dare you say such a disgusting word against me!"

"It's true," another voice spat back, shaking. "It's what you are, you perv-!"

There was a terrible yelp, a child cried out, young and small, defenseless against the fist that struck the young girl. My body flinched, and my mouth clamped shut to kept from exclaiming. There was another horrible cry, and I felt as the child - roaming free in agony from my own bruised past - fell before the outline of a man.

"You ungrateful little girl, you brat!"

The girl began to cry.

"You never learn. How many more times must I do this before you get it through your stupid little head that I'm the only one who loves you! How could you say such a thing about me? Huh? After all I've given you, this is how you show your fucking appreciation for me?"

I heard, felt, the small girl get lifted up. Her tears burned my checks. The man shook her, and she cried in pain.

"Tell me! Answer me! Why do you hate me?"  he shook the small child again. "Answer me! Answer me! Answer me!"

I opened my eyes.

The child and man winked out from my memory.

Tears stung my vision.

I gulped down a lump in my throat, quickly wiping my unspilled tears away. The man's voice, a terrible sound I wished never to hear again, echoed his demand, fading quietly each time he repeated his request. "Answer me!"

I shook my head, refusing. I listened over several long minutes as he yelled at me, until finally, the voice was nothing but a whisper.

I strained my ears to hear anything else my mind had to yell at me, and when there was just silence, I slumped over. I took a few breaths to regain my composure.

A few inhales and exhales later, I decided, with my entire body shaking (partly because I was dripping wet and half-afraid of the man in my mind), I got out of the shower. Heeding Dr. Cumberbatch's advice not to slip, the floor chilly and slippery, I shuffled over to where the bundle of clothes were, my towel pressed tightly to my shivering body. I said nothing when I saw the familiar material of a disposable nappy.

Wanting to avoid Dr. Cumberbatch as long as possible, I took my time, and extra care, in drying myself off. I patted myself down thoroughly, running the soft white towel over my damp body. Bending over, I flipped my damp hair over to put into a wrap. I did it once, and it slipped out of place. I did it a few more times before I was happy with the white towel atop my head. 

I wiggled into the nappy, trying my best not to cringe at the material. When slipping into my gown, a mint green with little polka dots, I realized my wrap was in the way. Taking my wrap out, I shook my hair out, slipped on the mint gown, and redid my hair wrap. It took at least four attempts before I got it back in place.

There was no hair brush for me to do my hair. There was a toothbrush though, and I brushed my teeth. I counted to two minutes before bending over the sink to rinse, the water tasting extremely minty and fresh as I gurgled it. Checking there wasn't any toothpaste on my face, which there wasn't, I glanced around in hopes of finding something to mop up the small puddle in front of the shower.

There was nothing, and unless I wanted to go through the rest of the toilet roll, saw there was nothing else for me to do. Maybe I could brush my hair out with my fingers? No, that would just hurt. Like, really hurt. I didn't need to add more to my current misery. I couldn't stay in this bathroom forever.

Suck it up, princess.

Sighing, I moved away from the sink. I went to the closed door, wishing that, when I opened it, I wouldn't see Dr. Cumberbatch. I didn't want to see his disappointment. His anger. His shame. His hurt. I didn't want to see what he had in store for me as punishment.

Like you don't deserve it.

I reached out, rapping quietly and quickly, against the hard door. There was a soft click, and shuffling back, saw Dr. Cumberbatch as he held it open for me. He chuckled at me lightly.

"I like the hairdo," he said.

I felt too afraid to respond. 

I looked at the ground at my bare, uncovered feet.

"There's some socks in the room," I heard him say quietly.

I wiggled my toes, my lips pressed sealed.

"Do you need to use the restroom?"

Why aren't you yelling at me like you're supposed to?

I shook my head, my stomach tight.

"You sure?"

Yes, I'm sure. I braced myself for the yelling to start.

"Alright, come on."

He started walking, and I followed after him down the corridor. As we walked, the pit in my stomach became larger and larger. At any moment, he would turn around, and I'd see the rage in his eyes. He'd start to yell at me, scold me and remind me of my place. I followed him quietly, waiting for the inevitable.

Any moment now.

We entered the room and I went to the bed. It was made up for the evening, the blue blanket draped across it and ready for me to crawl underneath. Stopping by the side of the bed, I watched, waiting for Dr. Cumberbatch to start yelling at me. He went around to the other side, and on his seat I couldn't see, he picked up a hairbrush.

He moved, and I flinched.

"Luna?"

I looked at him and the hairbrush he held out to me. There was a soft look in his gaze, as if he was more concerned than mad. I glanced at the brush he had outstretched for me to take, not daring to move, afraid if I did, he'd retract it and hit me with it. If he did, I had no doubts of the bruises and pain I'd be gifted.

He called my name again, softer. "Luna?"

"Y-Yes?"

"Are you okay?"

I nodded, still staring expectedly at the brush. He looked back again at the brush, and slowly, realizing I wasn't going to take it, placed it halfway across the bed. He took a step back, gesturing at the folded up socks near the end of the bed I'd missed noticing coming in.

"Your socks," he gently said, then looking back at the brush, "and a brush to do your hair with. I'll give you a little time before I come back in to wish you good night."

He moved away from the bed, and when he came around, I shuffled closer to the bed. He paused for a second, peering at me worriedly, before he walked across the room to the sliding door. It opened, and he walked through, disappearing.

I let loose a breath I'd not realized I'd been holding.

I didn't do anything for a moment, staring at the brush and socks. I swallowed, surprised nothing had been impacted into my skin. Dr. Cumberbatch hadn't yelled at me yet, like I was expecting to happen the moment I left the bathroom, and instead, he'd given me a complaint on my wrap. That wasn't supposed to have happened!

Unsettled and now more worried than before, I snatched up the brush. I tore off the white wrap, a few strands of yellow getting snagged, and biting down on the pain, began running the brush through my wet hair. It hurt, and my veins, filled with fear, anxiety, and dread, tugged harshly at the tangled mop on my head. Tears sprang to the corners of my eyes.

Suck. I went through a knot, the brush catching. It. I pulled downward, gritting my teeth together. Up. A clump of yellow appeared in the brush, wet and knotted, and once, my head now throbbing, a piece of my hair. I clamped down on letting out a pained cry, squeezing my eyes against the pain. Princess.

Sniffling, I blinked back tears. I went on brushing, not caring how painful it was. My head was on fire, but I didn't care. I was in trouble, and I deserved to be yelled at. The brush I was gripping and using to rip through my hair should've been thrown at me. I should've let it hit me, mark me, and make me cry. I should've had bruises start appearing on me.

I finished brushing. Placing it back on Dr. Cumberbatch's chair where he could grab it, I stuffed my feet into the socks. I scooted back into the bed, and holding my knees to my chest, waited obediently for him to return. I kept from crying, saving my tears for his punishment later.

I didn't need to wait long before the door opened. I turned my head, ready to see his tall figure and white coat, but instead, saw the scrubs of Nurse Harry. Somewhere inside of me, there was a sigh of relief.

Nurse Harry approached the bed. "Are you ready for bed?"

I nodded, quickly pulling the covers and blue blanket over me. My head fell backwards onto the pillow, throbbing.

Nurse Harry went around to the chair, scooping up the brush and used towel. His green eyes flickered at the strands of yellow in the brush before he looked back down at me to say, very quietly, "Is there anything I can get you?"

Yes, you most certainly can. I shook my head. If you'd be such a dear, could you fetch me Dr. Cumberbatch so he can punish me?

"Would you like some water?"

"I'm okay," I whispered.

"Alright."

I heard him move and come around the bed again. I caught him standing by the right, his green gaze soft and.....worried? Troubled? Why was he looking at me like there was something wrong with me? Like......I pulled my covers closer.......he was ashamed? Oh, boy.

"Goodnight, Nurse Harry," I said, my voice thin.

He knows.

I heard him inhale. "Sleep well, Luna."

He left me quickly on soft feet. I heard the door slide open and close, and then, a terrible silence filled the room. Underneath the covers, in the dimmed lights, my entire being tensed, coiling.

My heart raced, and my mind wept, begging for forgiveness.

I'm sorry!

*

"Dr. Hiddleston wants to see you."

I snapped up from where I was looking at my breakfast tray, the piece of fruit I had just poked and was halfway to my mouth freezing as I heard Nurse Harry from across the small table between us.

"He does?" I asked quietly, and Harry, smiling kindly, nodded. I lowered my fork, and looking away, glanced across the cafeteria at the entrance a few tables away, half-expecting to see him appear that second. Butteries began fluttering somewhere in my stomach.

We were down in the cafeteria having breakfast together, Nurse Harry and I, him enjoying a yogurt with some berries, and I - which I'd been somewhat enjoying before he'd just spoken -  a small bowl of  fruit. Waking up this morning, I fully expected, as I've gotten used to with the last few days, to have breakfast in bed, but he'd surprised me when, after getting me sorted for the day, he said we'd take a little field trip here. I didn't protest, and now, here we were, in this bright, green, room buzzing with the soft clatter and cluster of doctors, nurses, and others enjoying their breakfast meals.

I was quick to notice I was the only one in a blue gown, the only patient in the wide room, and hit with self-awareness, felt embarrassed and ashamed to be seen next to Nurse Harry as he guided me over to a table. However, already laden down by other emotions and dreads that went beyond being the oddball out, I forced myself to stay rooted in my chair, keeping my vision fixed on the table in front of me as Harry went to get our meals. I was thankful when he returned, and hoping it would give me a distraction, dug into my fruit.

Why?

I wanted to ask Nurse Harry why Dr. Hiddleston wanted to see me, but I already knew why. I didn't need him telling me and confirming my thoughts and suspicions, cementing the reality of having to face Dr. Hiddleston and whatever he'd have to say on behalf of my behavior last night towards Dr. Cumberbatch. He wasn't going to be happy when he saw me, and he'd grill me alive in whatever he thought needed to be done to see I was properly punished. 

I forced a smile, one that didn't meet my eyes, on my tired face. My shoulders felt strained, ready to droop over with despair at whatever awaited me. I didn't care to ask when he'd see me, and instead, having already accepted my fate, let Harry know I understood with a soft, "That's cool."

"Luna?" Harry paused in scooping up another spoonful of white yogurt. "Are you alright? Is everything okay?"

"I'm great."

I wasn't great.

I was about to get thrown into the doghouse.

"You sure?"

"I've never been better," I said a little too quickly, and hoping it would get him to stop talking, stuffed a piece of watermelon into my mouth. I chewed it, slowly, not caring to savor the rich sweet taste.

Harry looked at me like he didn't believe me, but didn't say anything. He went back to his meal, silence falling between us.

I somehow managed to eat the rest of the fruit, tasteless to my senses as I finished eating. I didn't see the point in trying to delay the inevitable, and so, didn't think of slowing my bites. A few quick pieces of strawberries later, I was gulping down the last of my water. I placed the empty cup on the tray to hand over to Nurse Harry as he rose to clear our places, thanking him quietly.

When he came back, I scooted my chair out, standing. Silently, he led the way out of the cafeteria and the corridor outside that would take us to the elevator. A few minutes later, dread chewing at whatever food was currently being digested through my stomach twisted in knots, he was marching me down a familiar wide corridor. We stopped in front of a closed door, and Harry rapped his knuckles against it.

I tried not to flinch as a voice called out from behind, "Come in!"

Harry turned the handle, pushing the door open. My heart sank to my toes as I peered inside the recognizable room, caught the pretty pastel of the green walls outlining the small session space. I saw the white cushioned chairs, and in his usual place, already seated, the familiar white of Dr. Hiddleston's coat.

I didn't look at him.

Couldn't.

"In you go," Nurse Harry encouraged me. "I'll  come get you when you're finished, alright?"

I nodded, shuffling on feet that felt suddenly like lead across the room to the open cushioned chair. I sat down, clasped my hands tightly together over my lap, and staring at the carpeted rug, tried my hardest to pretend Dr. Hiddleston's disappointed gaze wasn't looking at me.

There was the sound of a door closing.

For the longest while, there was silence between us.

I tried, and failed, to ignore the doctor watching me. I tried not to think about him as he sat just a couple feet across from me, and the heavy disappointment that would be all too evident on his features.

I tried not to think of how, just one morning ago, I'd balled my eyes out on him, desperate for him to be so near to me. I failed to squash down my own disappointment at how, despite his promise to see me again, he'd not seen me after our moment yesterday. I tried to stomp down on my longing for him to tell me everything was going be alright, that he wasn't going to yell at me. I tried not to fool myself into thinking I wasn't about to get punished, harshly reprimanded for my behaviors. I tried, failing to convince myself Dr. Hiddleston wasn't sitting across from me, ready to punish me, waiting patiently for one of us to break the ice between us.

I braced myself, mentally, for his anger to swell, and unleash. I waited, quietly, obediently, for him to speak, an invisible suit of armor going up over me to helplessly protect against whatever he had in store for me.

I sat, placid, my heart trembling within my chest.

"How are you, Luna?"

I forced myself to look at him, acknowledge him, give him the respect he deserved. "I'm okay."

"That's good to hear," he said.

"If you say so...." my voice died away, and I dropped my eyes back to the carpet. There were pretty outlines of flowers on the rug, and I began to trace a pattern, wishing we could speed things up and get everything over with. I wasn't in the mood for any icebreakers this morning.

"Did you have a good night?"

I wanted to say, after what had happened with Dr. Cumberbatch, that I'd not had a good night, and had had the worst night ever. However, lying would get me nowhere good, and glancing at him warily, I said, "I slept well."

"So I heard." There was something in his voice, a pinch of pride and approval, a corner of his mouth turning upward into a very soft grin. "I'm glad you slept well, especially considering how disruptive the previous evening had been."

I didn't want to believe how he was glad to know I'd slept decently well. I didn't want to note the appeasing tone of his voice, soft and gentle, fall for his deception before his facade ended. I knew what he was doing, luring me in to try and make me feel nothing wasn't amiss. I wasn't going to fall for his antics, not when I knew what was boiling to erupt just underneath the surface.

"Did the rest of your evening go well?"

And, there it was. Our icebreaker. The temperature was slowly starting to increase, and it wouldn't be long before he had me cowering. I quickly swallowed, hoping he'd not see my body stiffen and go rigid. "It was a-alright?"

He gave me a questioning look. "Anything happen?"

Yes.

"I-I.....well. I did a word search and played a card game."

"What card game?" he asked.

"Erm....." I began fiddling with my thumbs. "I can't remember."

"UNO?"

My thumbs froze. My heart went thunk!

He knows.

Of course he knew what I was doing last night. Of course he'd been kept in the loop. My loop. He was well informed on everything I did, Dr. Cumberbatch keeping him updated. It shouldn't have been surprising when he'd guessed the card game correctly. He probably saw my word search, too. Heck, he probably knew what I'd had for dinner last night, and even for breakfast. He knew what I was doing, what'd I done, what I'd said in that bathroom.

"Luna?"

"It's a...." I struggled to find the word to describe UNO. "...good game."

"It's one of my personal favorites," he said, leaning back in his chair. "You should see whenever I play with Dr. Cumberbatch."

I inwardly hissed.

"I'd love to."

It was quiet after that for a few minutes. Dr. Hiddleston didn't say anything, instead, his focus silently scrutinizing as he watched me. I fidgeted in the chair, my own focus going around the room in hopes of avoiding his eye-contact. The carpet was very detailed, and I traced the design of another flower, memorizing its layout. I was in the middle of outlining another flower when Dr. Hiddleston shifted in his chair. "Luna."

The tone of his voice, soft and gentle, was quiet, laced with the unspoken command I listen to him.

Really listen to him and stop shying away.

My shoulders sagged in defeat, and slowly, I raised my eyes to look at him, my stomach roiling. "Yes?"

"Are you okay?"

The way he posed the question, heavy with concern, made me realize he knew I was anything but okay.

"I'm okay."

"What's bothering you?"

I bite my lip, hard. "I think you know what's bothering me."

A faint grin touched his lips, and he folded his hands in front of him. "I might."

Might.

He wanted me to confess my guilt.

"I d-didn't mean for it to happen."

"For what to happen?"

I opened my mouth, my throat dry. "I'm sorry."

Dr. Hiddleston looked at me, a glint of sorrow in his gaze. "What happened, Luna?"

I didn't know how to respond. Didn't want to. But, he was pushing me into a very tight corner. "Nothing ha....." The lie died on my tongue.

"Why did you get upset at Dr. Cumberbatch?"

"I wasn't thinking."

"You didn't want him in the bathroom with you?"

"Would you?"

"Luna."

That wasn't appropriate of me. "Sorry."

"Do you know why Dr. Cumberbatch was in there with you?"  he tried again, rephrasing the question.

"Yes."

"Why?"

I leaned back in the chair, deflating. Very quietly, I mumbled, "Because I'm a high-dependency patient."

Dr. Hiddleston hummed. "You are, yes. Do you know what being a high-dependency patient means?"

I shrugged, not really knowing, but giving it my best guess. "That I'm constantly supervised twenty-four seven because I'm a risk."

"That's one way you can put it," he said. "In simpler terms of speaking."

"And, in not so simpler terms?"

Dr. Hiddleston sat up in his chair, adjusting the front of his white coat. "Well," he brushed his coat. "As a high-dependency patient, you're kept under, as you said, constant surveillance, and given a higher level of care that is very specific to your needs. Usually, this care is more individual, requires a nurse, or if necessary, multiple nurses, assigned to your care, and provides a more  intensive level of observations and, if need be, interventions. As you are probably already aware, you've been assigned an entire care team, which includes me, Nurse Harry, Nurse Louis, and, as your primary doctor, Dr. C–,"

I frowned at his name. "Why?"

"Why?"

"Why am I a high-dependency patient?"

Because, I bitterly told myself, you're absolutely perfect for it. Hurray, you go, honey! You have an entire crew behind you, a pampered princess of sorts in this lunatic bin. You very lucky girl!

"Does being a high-dependency patient bother you?"

I wanted to laugh out loud at Dr. Hiddleston's dumb question. I felt like crackling like a little witch because of how stupid and obvious the answer was. However, I tightly smiled, saying, "Wouldn't having a man waiting outside the curtain while you shower bother you, Dr. Hiddleston?"

"Not if I knew why," he said. "And, if there was a very good reason, such as making sure I was safe and didn't accidentally hurt myself in the process. And, especially if this person, this doctor, was doing it with good intentions that were only to look out for my best interest. I'd definitely be uncomfortable, rightly so, but after I was reassured I wouldn't be seen in any manner that invaded my privacy, I'd try to be okay with his presence. No, I wouldn't be happy, and I'd be very self-conscious, and if I felt, at any time things were becoming a little too overwhelming, communicate with the doctor in a way that's appropriate for the situation."

"Me and you are two very different people, Dr. Hiddleston."

Dr. Hiddleston grinned sadly. "Did Dr. Cumberbatch make you feel unsafe?"

"Did he think I was going to slip on a bar of soap?"

Dr. Hiddleston let loose a sigh. "Did you tell him why you didn't want him there?"

"I told him to get out, but he didn't listen."

"And how did that make you feel?"

Like something very bad would happen if he stayed in that room with me. Like he was going to see me like a broken and tilted picture for his cruel amusement. And, once he saw my flesh, he'd tell me not to move, and he'd be back in just a jiffy. He'd leave, but only for a second. When he'd return, a terrible shadow would slip into the room.

I'd look over at Dr. Cumberbatch, but he wouldn't be there anymore. The bathroom would move, shrink in size as the shadow advanced. My back would hit the wall, and paralyzed, my mind would scream to be released. The shadow would loom, hissing at me as it heard my silent scream.

A blow would be delivered. 

"How dare you," the shadow would seethe. "How dare you try to scream."

I'd try to speak as a hand covered my mouth, muffling my voice.

Beg to be set free.

"You ungrateful little girl, you brat!"

I'd start to cry.

"You never learn."

The shadow would near, its fingers slowly starting down my exposed arm. I'd weep harder.

"How many more times must you be like this before you learn to love this? That only I can love you like this? Why would you scream?" He'd reach a spot and pause. Delusional hunger would blaze in his eyes.

I'd call him a monster.

A pervert.

"Luna?"

I blinked.

Dr. Hiddleston was leaning forward in his chair, worried. "Are you okay?"

No.

I peered down at the rug.

"I-I was a little uncomfortable."

I was and had been, for a very long time. But, it wasn't because of Dr. Cumberbatch, or, even as he gently pried, Dr. Hiddleston. And, it wasn't just a little.

"And afraid."

His blue gaze softened. "You were caught off-guard."

"Yes," I softly said. "I was, and so, I saw the wrong thing." Or what I was expected to see, two demented eyes. "I said something I shouldn't have. Before I could stop myself, I called Dr. Cumberbatch..." I couldn't say the word, I didn't want to.

"A pervert?"

"Yes."

"What happened after that?"

"Dr. Cumberbatch said he was sorry." And I didn't hear it, or maybe I did. However, it wasn't what I was expecting, his apology when he shouldn't have been the one making it. "I called him a pervert again. And, I threw the f-bomb at him, too. I shouldn't have. I'm sorry."

That should've been Dr. Hiddleston cue to explode then and there, my open invitation for him to rage, and finally erupt. As he launched his first blow at me, my pathetic shout of pain signal for Dr. Cumberbatch to barrel into the room. Any second, any moment, flesh would hit flesh. Purple and blue would paint me, mixed with an ugly sick shade of green. And I'd be forced to wear those bruises with pride, shame, that I screwed up and had been put back in line.

That didn't happen.

Instead, Dr. William, his voice extremely quiet, asked, "Luna. Were you expecting us to get mad?"

"Yes."

"And, did you expect our disappointment to make us hurt you? Punish you?"

I wanted, very badly, to say no, but he'd hit the nail on the head. It wasn't subtle , frank and forward, but heavy with emotion as he looked at me quietly. Something glistened in his blue gaze, his expression darkening with unspoken concern. I chuckled, nervously, my throat becoming stuck. I wanted to speak, but I felt suddenly paralyzed with the weight of his questions. No, I wanted to scream, but yes, my heart wanted to sob.

My silence was his confirmation.

Realizing that I had expected those things to happen, Dr. Hiddleston shook his head. He didn't say anything right away, a flash of rage and hurt appearing in his blue eyes. He leaned back in his chair. I braced myself for whatever he was going to say, not at all ready to confess my heart further with him.

"Luna," he finally said. "We'd never hurt you. You are safe here."

I closed my eyes, shaking my head. Am I?

I wanted to believe him, that unspoken promise. I wanted to believe him, that I was safe here, both physically and mentally, even emotionally. But, I couldn't.

Very quietly, I said, "I don't believe you."

His gaze softened. "You don't need to. Not right now."

"I want to."

Dr. Hiddleston smiled sadly. "Something's interfering though."

No.

Someone.

I smiled, weakly. "Dr. Hiddleston?"

"Luna?"

"I want to believe I'm safe here. But, I can't. I mean no offense or disrespect towards you or anyone else who's involved in my care, but your words mean nothing to me. You say I'm safe, but I don't feel safe. You say you won't hurt me, but–!

"You need to see it."

"What?"

Something glistened in his gaze. "You need to see it before you believe anything."

"It?"

Dr. Hiddleston sat up straighter. "Luna. You need proof."

"What proof?"

"That we're not going to hurt you. We're not mad at you." He looked at his wristwatch. "Luna, you trust me, right?"

"A little....." he rose, and I flinched. "What are you doing?"

"We're going on a field trip." Tucking his clipboard underneath his arm, he waved for me to get up. I reluctantly did, confused by his sudden shift in conversation. A trickle of uncertainty slithered into my stomach. "Luna."

"Oh," I blinked, realizing he was standing by the door. "Erm, right. Sorry."

"Luna," he looked down at me. "I mean it when I say you're safe here. We'd never let anything, or anyone hurt you."

I gave him a half-smile. "I still don't believe you."

"And that's okay," he nodded. "But, I hope you can. Shall we?"

He opened the door, stepping through them out into the hall. I followed, bracing my heart for whatever was going happen next.

*

-unedited