In his dreams, he no longer saw his mother. A kind woman who had small smiles, gentle eyes, and quiet demeanor. She was the embodiment of grace and elegance, but her face became a blur like he had a veil, or soap in his eyes. He possessed her eyes, her nose, and her brows. In his dreams, he couldn’t remember the sound of Lorelei’s singing voice, the sound of her laughter, and if her eyes were dark blue, or a light blue like the expansive sky.

Gentle rays of light streamed through the fluttering, white curtains and the bandaged man on the hospital bed stirred awake. The warrior blinked his light-colored eyes twice in a dazed fashion before turning his head side to side to examine his surroundings in quiet contemplation. He didn't dare utter a single noise. These strange, new surroundings had him on high alert, and he didn't know if the person handling his care was an enemy or an ally. He saw other men bandaged and in bed just like him, and suddenly, there was a quiet panic surging inside of him. His breath quickened. He moved slightly, and the bed creaked with every move he made. His eyes then shifted down to the rest of himself, not surprised that his left arm was bandaged and slung into a cotton sling while the rest of his body ached. His foot was hoisted up by wires and cotton slings, resting against a cushion while his other arm was bandaged, but clearly not as injured as the rest of his body. He attempted to strain his neck, but the sharp, biting pain made him gasp aloud.

Mr. Doe was a quiet fellow by nature since he was a small boy, and ever since memories could be formed in his mind, he was mild mannered and reluctant to truly hurt someone’s feelings on purpose. Questions plagued his mind and then he heard the soft tabs of footsteps coming closer.

His eyes trailed over the white curtains, the simple wooden chair and the bed pans, bloodied bandages. And his green eyes finally focused on the light pair of feet that was coming closer and closer.  A pretty, blonde woman with a fiery pair of eyes that were a strange mix of light brown and orange appeared before him - and clearly, she was the owner of the light footsteps. She had an easy smile with perfect teeth. Her hair was put up, so he did not know the length of her golden hair. She wore a blue and white overcoat over a simple tunic and a pair of worker's pants. Her hands were free of jewelry of any kind, and her ears were bare, but a simple, metal string with a teardrop-shape red stone dangled from her neck. She settled next to him, flopping onto a cushioned chair, glancing over notes written in a book. Her eyes darted back and forth between what was written on the page and him.

"Good morning, Mr. Doe," said the young-looking doctor. She pasted a polite smile on her face and he couldn't help furrowing his brows. He never liked anyone touching him carelessly unless it was absolutely necessary, and he assumed she had done her fair share of touching as well as many other strangers who mended him back to consciousness. "I am Dr. Kate Yates. How do you do? Are you willing to speak?"

He shook his head no, waiting to see how the woman would respond.

"I see," she then wrote something down in the book, muttering "temporary loss of speech, but you can understand me quite well...how peculiar," under her breath before looking up at him again. "I suppose since you cannot speak to me as of the moment. We shall just have to improvise, yes?"

He blinked.

"Good, good," she said, grinning widely. This time her smile reached her eyes as she moved the chair closer to his red bed. "Since you cannot use your voice or hands, please use your eyes and follow my directions as best as you can, okay?"

He blinked.

"For this question, can you blink as many times as you believe is necessary in order to express your thoughts on the matter? On a scale of one to ten, how much pain do you feel in your arms right now?"

He had no energy to play games right now. 

"It does not hurt too much," he said quietly.

She smiled, and then he could have swore she said under her breath, "Quick speech restoration..."

Dr. Yates continued jotting down his response in the leather-bound ledger - her charcoal stick did quick and short strokes. He couldn't help but notice her smudge fingers as the black writing tool darkened her fine fingers. "What about your legs? Upper thigh area?"

"Not too much," he lied again.

It continued like so until Dr. Yates was satisfied with her questioning and responses. Mr. Doe then opened his mouth. He had a desire to drink his fill of water. His lips were cracked with dead, flaking skin while his trachea was as dry as cracked earth; and parched like there was a mouthful of sand shoved down his throat as if he was buried in the desert for days.

"W-water," he croaked, his voice suddenly broke.

"Of course," she said, moving from the chair to the wooden table at the foot of his bed. She held a clay pitcher in her hand and carefully poured out water into a clay cup. She then placed the pitcher down and picked up the cup, moving to his side once more. Dr. Yates placed the cool cup against his slightly opened mouth and cautiously tipped the cup backwards, measuring how much water trickled. She would stop every five seconds before resuming, falling into a pattern.

"Do you want more water?" she asked, noting the empty cup.

He shook his head.

Her eyes crinkled slightly as the corner of her mouth tilted up. She went to place the cup down at the table before resuming her care of the strange man before her.

In a three month's time, he was finally able to sit on his own. He sat in a wooden, mobile chair with pinwheels in a white gown and soft cotton pants. His left arm was limber and moving with the same deadly precision he was used to as he crushed buzzing insects flying around him with the pinch of his fingers. His glittering eyes surveyed what he could in the marble sanitarium, and he heard the crunching of grass coming from behind him. He lingered on the overgrown, towering maple tree in the center of the ten-acre garden. Other wounded patients were taken on a stroll or visited by people who knew them. He heard the man who occupied the bed left of him die in his sleep, gasping weakly before it became completely silent.

Mr. Doe had then closed his eyes. He saw an idyllic scene before his eyes as it was no longer drab and grey, but a field of flowers. Pinks. Reds. Purples. Blues. His fiancée’s red hair was wild and curly, and she was dressed in a pale pink gown, twirling round and round until she was slightly dizzy. Her movements were full of grace as she skipped along the garden path before entering the field. He would count how many flowers on average his fiancée would pick on an afternoon stroll, and before he knew it, Mr. Doe was falling into a deep sleep.

“Good morning, Mr. Doe,” said Dr. Yates who then placed her hands on the back handles of the occupied wooden chair and pushed him towards the cafeteria with a surprising strength. “How are you feeling this morning?”

He didn’t answer her; instead, he kept his eyes trained on the bumpy dirt road. Dr. Yates laughed easily and smiled brightly almost akin to the color of her golden hair, or the blazing heat of the sun. He listened as the woman spoke and greeted other patients and staff members, asking them how their day was going so far, what do they think lunch would be, and when they would finally get a break from the hospital as she was sure they were all dying to go out on the town already. Her words were a bit careless as the others' faces paled upon hearing the word "dying." 

He feel the tension in her arms as she realized her blunder and she hurriedly tried to get away. He looked at her face, and he didn't like the look on her face. It was the look she got when someone died. Numb.

“Where am I?” Mr. Doe said finally without a hint of emotion.

“Will it matter where you are, Mr. Doe?”

He opted to continue the conversation where they began, urging her with a nod. “It will put me at ease if I knew where I was, so yes.”

“Tyana,” she said easily. She adjusted her grip on the handles. “just south of Apollonius by 30 miles. Do you know where you are now, Mr. Doe?”

A lock of black-brown hair fell and landed right beside his eye, making him appear like the young man he was. His high-cheek bones were somewhat hollow due the lack of interest in the food, and upon that thought, they arrived at the cafeteria. They got there rather early; therefore, there were plenty of tables that were free for use. She wheeled him to the brown table closest to the exit before marching proudly over to the line.

Dr. Yates was taller than Lorelei, and there was something something else, but his thought quickly disappeared when he heard her roaring laugh. She was probably telling some sort of un-funny joke that only she could find hilarity in it, and Mr. Doe sat in his chair with passive eyes noting how her grin produced visible dimples on her cheeks before he awkwardly turned away, looking anywhere but at her.

Mr. Doe had not expected her return so soon as she gently placed down two trays that had a clear mushroom soup; two circular corn breads; two small slices of white flaky fish; a tiny cup of diced tomatoes and edible flowers; slices of green peppers; one cup of red sauce and one cup of white sauce. She then said cheerfully, “I know you have been eating nothing, but gruel and the staff have told me that you take three, tiny sips of it before pushing it away. I know we don’t have the fanciest of stuff, but food is precious. You must eat if you want to regain your strength, but every now then,” she winked at him. “something a little solid won’t hurt you. Doctor’s order, Mr. Doe.”

“Let me show you the right way to eat this,” Dr. Yates said proudly as her deft hands arranged the scattered meal into a wrap that contained almost everything. “The chili sauce is the best, and it’s the only sauce you need. No spicy food for you though! But my brother says otherwise – even the tiniest drop of heat makes his tongue curdle in pain.”

“You have a brother?”

She poured the red sauce on top of the fish before scooping a tiny amount of yogurt on top of the red sauce. Dr. Yates nodded, “Mhmm. My twin. You wouldn’t think we are twins if we stood side-by-side though. Do you have siblings?”

“No,” he replied flatly, eyeing the wrap on his plate with disinterest. “Why did you become a doctor?”

“N’awh, n’awh,” she spoke with her mouth full, shaking her finger at him. “ f’ahrankly ‘s ‘est eff ‘oou s’haare m’re ‘bout ‘self.”

Mr. Doe simply stared blankly at her as she continued to chew before swallowing. She took a gulp full of water before staring straight at him.

“Well?” Dr. Yates said, smiling as if Mr. Doe understood every word she said. She pushed the plate even closer towards him and smile warmly. Her fork was hanging preciously on the edge of the table. “You must eat if you want to leave this place.”

A myriad of reluctance, doubt, and suspicion flew across his face as he hesitantly lifted his hand, grabbing the messy wrap with two fingers, bringing it close to his mouth. He nibbled on one corner, and then he flickered his gaze back to Dr. Yates, and found that she was waiting for him to finish. He then courageously opened his mouth and tore apart a larger section of the corn wrap with fillings. Salty, tangy, bitter flavors assaulted his senses before the fleshy meat overtook him with its smoky, robust char. And then the yogurt sauce helped cool the tip of his tongue as he washed away the remaining taste with some water.

“It is good. Better than the porridge.”

Her grin was large, going from cheek to cheek. There was a warmth and glow in her smile, and it was contagious, making him crack a tiny, tiny smile in return. Her elbow rested on the table while her palm craddled her cheek, and then Dr. Yates commented out of the blue, “Your eyes remind me of green peppers.”

She took a large bite out of the wrap again.

He couldn’t help, but slightly furrow his brows together. That was a first for him.