An Expectation

4

"He's never done this before?"

Marion shook her head and sipped her coffee. "No. He's only been here five weeks, Martha-Grace, so we haven't really had much time, but he's never had an attack like this."

Martha-Grace shook her head. "Shellshock is a terrible, terrible thing."

"Miller tells me he has nightmares, though," Marion continued. "They wake him up and sometimes keep him from sleeping, but he's never had an outburst like this before. Not here, at least."

"What did his roommate do?"

"He had his ears covered with the pillow, I think. I don't know. I was a bit busy with comforting Miller. It took almost two hours for him to settle completely."

"Yeah, you look awful," replied Martha-Grace sympathetically. "I've never seen bags like that under your eyes before."

Marion responded by pouring another cup of coffee. "It's alright. I still got a few hours of sleep, and Miller is still asleep as far as I know. He was asleep when I was up there ten minutes ago."

She glanced at the clock- it was almost eight-forty in the morning, and heavy clouds threatened rain. "Do you think we should take Stewart out to the gardens to walk? He needs to practice with the cane before he's sent back home to London."

Martha-Grace looked out the kitchen window. "I would, just to be safe. The exercise is good for him. Before it rains."

Marion stood up and rinsed her empty cup. "Do you think it'll rain all day?"

"Probably."

She walked up the stairs and knocked on the door before entering. Stewart was sitting up in his bed, trying to button his shirt. The holes hadn't lined up at all, Marion saw with a laugh, and she rushed to fix them.

"Need some help?"

"Thanks," he said, and put his hands down. "What day is it?"

"Thursday."

"So I go home tomorrow?" There was hope in his voice, and a smile on his face.

"Mr. Fielding will be here tomorrow at nine to take you to the train station." Marion had to admit, she was glad Stewart was leaving. He scared her a little bit, and she didn't really know why. Just a vibe he gave off, an aura...

"I'll miss you, Marion."

"Nurse Marion, Mr. Stewart." She wasn't really paying attention. She was trying to unbutton the mess he'd made.

Stewart moved closer so her hands brushed his bare skin. Marion jumped away and decided to leave the bottom of the shirt unbuttoned, her heart pounding, but Stewart caught her left hand and held it to his chest, oblivious to her struggling.

"Let me go, Mr. Stewart." It didn't come out as confident as she would have liked.

"I wish I could see you," he whispered, one hand feeling for her face. He grasped her shoulder and followed the curve of her neck up. She pulled away, but he caught her ear and pulled her closer. "I'd love to see if the face I've imagined is close to real life."

"Please, Mr. Stewart..."

"Shh, Marion," he whispered, letting go of her hand and putting that hand on her cheek. "Call me William."

"No-" She pulled away, then cried out as his grip tightened on her ear. Wide eyed with fear, she stared at the bandages around his eyes and then, praying forgiveness, swung her fist at his mouth as hard as she could.

Immediately he let go with a roar, and it was then that her knuckles stung and started throbbing. She skidded into Lewis's bed as Stewart took his hand from his mouth to reveal a bloody lip. 

"You little-"

Marion was about to turn and run when she felt a hand on her shoulder. 

"Don't touch her, William," said Lewis. "I've got the advantage, too, so don't you dare test me."

Stewart sank into his pillows, gingerly poking his lip. "You'll pay, nurse  Marion."

Marion shook as she sank to her knees, facing Lewis. "Thank you."

"I like to think I'm a gentlemen," replied Lewis with a shy smile. "Are you alright?"

"Bit shaken," she admitted. "My legs feel like jelly. I'll be alright, just let me sit here a minute."

He nodded and reached for the book on the nightstand. 

"Have you been awake long, Mr. Miller?"

"I woke up when you cried out."

"Oh." She did not know what else to say. "What are you reading?"

He held up the book so she could see. "It's called Clayhanger. I don't like it much, but my sister sent it to me, so I figured I'd read it."

"What's it about? Why don't you like it?"

Lewis sighed. "It's about a rich boy who thinks he can get whatever he wants, and does nothing about the state of society. My mother always told me to be true to myself, so to see this man do the opposite angers me to no end."

Marion thought for a moment. "Maybe you should write your own stories. That way, the characters can behave how you want them to."

He shook his head. "I don't think I would be very good at it."

"Have you ever tried?"

Silence. Marion thought of James, and the little stories he'd sent her when he'd been away. He was almost a stranger to her now, someone she wrote to every few weeks and got a short response from. It was strange, she thought, to think that someone she'd once loved- and cried over for days when he left- had become a total alien. 

"I'll do it, but you'll have to get me paper and a pen."

Marion stood and brushed off her apron. "Of course. It's almost time for your medications, anyways, so I'll bring those too. How's your neck? Does it hurt any less?"

He turned his head so she could examine the burns. "It hurts, but not more than usual. How does it look?"

Her fingers gently lifted the cotton dressing. "It seems to be healing, but more slowly than we wished it would. I'll bring more ointment and change the wrappings."

"Thank you." He swung his legs out of bed and started towards the door.

"Where do you think you're going?" she asked, teasing in her tone.

He smiled back, with his lopsided smile that set her heart aflutter for some reason. "I've got to visit the lavatory, in frank terms, while you gather what you need to."

He was a little embarrassed, but she didn't mind. His crystal blue eye stared at her from above a flushed cheek, and she smiled. "Alright. You're sure you're alright to go?"

"I can walk fine," he said, kicking his legs out in front of him in a clownish dance. "Don't worry."

"I won't," she laughed. "I'll be back in a moment."

The thoughts of his goofy smile and childish antics were a light in the face of Stewart's behaviour, and they followed her happily to the supply room and back upstairs.