I stand dumbfounded for a moment as my psychiatrist continues offering his gentle smile to me. The two of us stand in the hall, him with his fancy briefcase, well-pressed suit and rather dapper-looking trilby, and me looking like a lost child. After I fully process the strangeness of his sudden arrival, I tilt my head. “Erm… shouldn’t you have told me you were planning to just… stop by here?” Dr. Fitzgerald flicks his eyebrows. “I did. I sent you the reply email around… 10 AM, I believe.” Argh. I withdraw my phone for the first time since this morning. Sure enough, a small envelope icon appears, indicating an unread email. I don’t bother reading it, letting out a sigh as I put the device back into my pocket. “I mean… isn’t this a bit unconventional?” He shrugs. “Not really. I am a doctor, after all.” He glances around the hall. “I’m sorry to say, I have spent a significant amount of time on this floor.” He looks towards the door before which I stand, then back to me. “So, is this where your wife is staying?” I furrow my brow. “Yes… but I assume you already knew that, seeing as you just found us out of the blue.” “You are correct. Again, part of the perks of being associated so closely with the hospital.” Dr. Fitzgerald gives me an expectant smile as I weigh the situation. “If I canceled our appointment, are you still able to just show up for it anyway?” “Ah, I’m afraid that’s just it. You can’t cancel the appointment. Remember, these are mandated sessions as part of your post-service recovery.” “I understand that, but given the circumstances-” He cuts me off. “Given the circumstances, I feel that now is the most important time for us to have a session. Besides, it would give us an opportunity to speak with Lucy, as well.” I pinch the bridge of my nose, recalling that he had suggested exactly that during our last meeting two weeks ago. He notices my gesture and cocks his head. “Would you be opposed to that? We can meet with just the two of us as well, if you’d like.” I think about it for a moment before shaking my head. “I wouldn’t be opposed. But the question is: would Lucy be opposed? I’m gonna need to clear it with her. She’s… been through a lot.” He smiles at me and nods towards the door to the room. I give him one last sideways glance before returning to Lucy. She is seated on the side of her bed, her feet not quite touching the floor as they dangle over the edge of the mattress. Her parents brought some clothes over for her so she would have something besides her patient gown to wear for the remainder of her stay. She stares out of the window off to her side; as I come into view, she turns my way with a gentle smile. It quickly falls away as she peers over my shoulder with a slightly shocked expression. I follow her gaze, turning to see Dr. Fitzgerald lumber into the room behind me, smiling at Lucy as he steps around my form. He tilts his head in a strange combination of a gracious bow and a slick doff as his hat slides off the side of his head and into his open claw before he places it on a hook near the door. Given his anatomy, I’m curious what kind of maneuver he’ll use to put the trilby back onto his colossal noggin. As he sets his briefcase on the nearby table and clicks it open, he speaks up. “Good afternoon, Lucy. I’m Dr. Royce Fitzgerald. I’m the psychiatrist Anon has been seeing for the past few months.” After he extracts his usual notepad and pen from the briefcase, he steps across the room to offer Lucy a stubby hand to shake. “Pleased to make your acquaintance.” She stands and accepts the handshake, smiling at him. “Pleasure to meet you, too, Dr. Fitzgerald.” I take a seat on the couch and he pulls one of the chairs to a position that forms a triangle out of the three of us. As he sits, donning his usual cross-legged stance, Lucy plops back down onto the edge of the bed and glances from him to me. “Sorry for looking so surprised. For a second, I thought he was Moe!” At this, Dr. Fitzgerald smiles and flips his notebook open with one hand to the first page.. “Ah, yes. Anon said something similar when he first met me. I believe his words were… ‘I should make-a da pizza pie’.” He glances in my direction with a raised eyebrow. I shrug. “And you didn’t laugh then, either. Normally most folks find my comedy very charming, but you somehow remain immune.” Lucy smiles at this. “Honey, I find your comedy charming. Other people, though…” With this, she rolls her eyes in an overly dismissive gesture. I guess I should be glad that she’s in good spirits, but ouch all the same. She turns to Dr. Fitzgerald again. “So, does this mean you and Anon are going to have your appointment here at the hospital?” Dr. Fitzgerald turns to me, allowing me the opportunity to answer the question on behalf of both of us. I stumble over my words. “Erm… well, yes… but- and, you don’t have to, but… I was-” He interjects. “I had suggested to Anon that perhaps you might like to sit in with us for a session.” Lucy looks my way. “Oh? Do you talk about me a lot with him?” While her expression appears playful, I sense a hint of accusation in her tone. I gulp. “I mean… you are my wife… the person I spend the most time with out of… well, anybody, really. You’d be bound to come up sometimes.” She narrows her eyes slightly, seeming to want to inquire further as to what sort of things I discuss with Dr. Fitzgerald about her. Thankfully, he jumps in to cover me. “He speaks with me about you frequently, and through those discussions I’ve observed that he loves you very dearly.” At this, Lucy glances down and blushes. While a faint smile tugs at her lips, I still notice that something is off. After a moment, she looks back up at Dr. Fitzgerald. “I normally wouldn’t be so keen on the prospect, but… considering where I am now…” She glances around the room as she says this. “Maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad thing. If I do agree to sit in with you, what do I have to do?” He offers a comforting smile. “There’s nothing to it, really. We just talk. We won’t force you to say anything you don’t want to say. I’m simply here to lend my ear and my advice.” She ponders for a moment. “I… suppose I’d be alright with it. Though, Anon has told me the sessions don’t do much good.” Dr. Fitzgerald shoots me a sideways glance as I scratch the back of my head and try to smile innocently. Whoops. He sighs. “Despite your husband’s feelings, we have been using our time in very productive ways. Though Anon doesn’t take my sessions seriously, I can say that I’ve seen improvement with him. For instance, he’s reported that he’s been having many fewer nightmares than before.” Lucy looks in my direction. “You just had one last night, didn’t you? And dad mentioned you jolted up from a bad dream in the waiting room.” I look down, involuntarily wringing my hands. I’d rather not have had this come up, but it’s too late now. “... Yeah.” Dr. Fitzgerald scribbles something into his notepad. “Would you be okay with sharing what your nightmares were about?” “Usual fare. Back overseas. Watch Weston get blown up while I get eviscerated.” Lucy cocks her head. “Weston? I don’t think you’ve ever told me that soldier’s name.” The doctor glances from Lucy back to me. “You haven’t?” I rub my temple. “It’s not exactly dinner table conversation, Doc.” He smiles gently. “Well, it’s a good thing we’re not at a dinner table, then.” He beckons with his hand towards Lucy and nods to me, saying without words that this would be a good opportunity to fill her in. I let out a long, steady breath through pursed lips. I don’t want to keep secrets from Lucy anymore, and really, there’s not much reason to keep this to myself at this point. “... Private First Class Jeremy Weston. He was stationed at the same base as me, though he showed up with a new group that rolled in about two months before… before he died.” I look up at Lucy who is giving me her full attention. I glance at her wings as they stand in their normal half-tucked position over her shoulders. It makes me reminisce and causes a smile to slowly work its way across my face involuntarily. My expression causes her to look at me quizzically.. I continue, “Heh… this is going to sound stupid, but… he reminded me of you. Not, like, personality-wise or anything like that; he was definitely one of the boys. But… he was a pterodactyl, and he had a rare condition that made him look… effeminate. He had feathered wings, like you and Samantha, instead of leathery ones like Naser or Ripley. Lighter-colored scales, too. Other guys thought he was a chick up until he said point-blank that he wasn’t, and even then some of the other doofuses didn’t believe him.” Lucy wears a puzzled expression for a moment, then seems to have some realization dawn on her. “... I read about that in one of our biology books that went into detail about pterosaurs. Something about a chromosome imbalance that can cause normally gender-specific traits on pterosaurs to invert?” I nod. “That’s the one. You have no idea how strange it was having a guy friend with wings that looked like yours. I’d see them bobbing on the other side of a stack of crates as he was walking past and I’d have to double-take, thinking that you had come to visit me.” At this, Lucy smiles slightly, but urges me to continue with her eyes. “... He was my friend. Weston and I had a lot in common, and I was one of the only people on base that didn’t treat him like a freak of nature. ‘Ladybird’, his team called him, much to his dismay. Nicknames in the Army are like one of those fairground finger traps: if you resist, it’ll just pinch that much harder. I never called him by that nickname, though… he was always just Weston to me. Or Westie, if I was feeling playful.” A smile works across my face, but rapidly fades as my lip begins quivering. “Weston was a good man, and he was my friend. And… And I watched him die. Snuffed out in an instant by a fucking freak rocket out of nowhere. Shards of his bone embedded themselves into my torso. One instant, he was there, walking across the courtyard to say ‘Hi’... the next… he… he didn’t even have time to finish his sentence. Christ.” Tears. Again with the fucking tears. I thought I was over this. It must be because of the stupid dreams dredging all of these memories back up. I start looking around for a tissue; Dr. Fitzgerald begins to stand, but stops himself as Lucy makes her way across the room to sit on the couch next to me, tissue box in hand. She passes it to me as she wraps her other arm and a wing around my body, pulling herself closer to me in a sideways embrace. I glance up at Dr. Fitzgerald as I wipe my face; he looks between the two of us with a warm smile. A few moments after I compose myself, Lucy speaks up. “... Why didn’t you ever tell me about him?” I open my mouth, but pause. I know the answer, and it’s not a good one. I inhale through my nose, standing firm with my policy of honesty. “... I didn’t want to burden you with my problems. You’ve had your own demons to face; adding mine to the mix would have overwhelmed you.” As expected, Lucy doesn’t like this answer. She removes her wing and arm from around me and scoots over a few inches to look up at my face. Her expression isn’t angry, but it’s not pleased, either. “Burden me? You’ve been doing so much to try to help me, and all this time you’ve been keeping all of this grief bottled up because you thought it would be a burden to me? I thought we were a team. We share everything; why wouldn’t you share this with me, too?” I rub my forehead with my fingers. When she puts it like that, I do sound like a dumbass. I still feel the need to try to defend myself, at least a little. “To be fair, I had Dr. Fitzgerald. I may not have taken the sessions terribly seriously, but they actually did help a bit.” I turn to him. “You even said it yourself that you’ve seen improvement. Right, Doc?” He shrugs. “Your psychiatrist is someone in whom you can confide and seek advice, but so is your wife. You see me one hour every two weeks; you see her a lot more often than that, didn’t you say so yourself?” Damnit, Doc. You’re supposed to stick up for me here. He’s got a point, though. I relent, “Yeah, you’re right.” I look sheepishly at Lucy. “... I’m sorry. I should have told you about all of this sooner. You’re right: we’re a team. I don’t want to hide anything away from you anymore.” She inches closer to me again and places her hand in mine. I lace my fingers with hers as I smile at her. Dr. Fitzgerald scribbles something else into his notepad, then looks up at Lucy. “If you don’t mind, Lucy, I wanted to ask you a little bit about yourself. Of course, I have bits and pieces from what Anon has told me, but I wouldn’t mind getting to know you a little better.” Lucy sits a bit more upright and puts on a sort of introductory pose. “Well, umm… I’m not sure what there is to tell. I’m a preschool teacher at my church, which I also attend on Sundays with my parents, and recently Anon as well…” She glances my way and smiles as she says this. “Hmm… I like cooking, and reading… I also like watching movies and TV shows with Anon…” She trails off, having already exhausted her quickly-assembled list of ‘herself’. “How about friend groups? Do you have anyone you spend time with socially besides your parents and your husband?” Dr. Fitzgerald’s question makes Lucy flinch. She quickly connects the dots, shooting her eyes from me back to him. If she was curious about what I’d been talking to him about regarding her, she knows it now. “... No. Not really, no.” Dr. Fitzgerald presses the issue. “And why is that?” She removes her hand from mine and places it in her lap. She visibly shrinks slightly, bringing her shoulders inward. This is not a good sign. “I… I lost them all in high school.” “How so?” She breaks eye contact with him, looking further down at the floor as she brings her beak closer to her chest. Her arms tuck further into her sides. “... Trish… my friend since we were kids… she hurt Anon. She tried to change me, she had changed me. And when I didn’t want that anymore, she lashed out at me. She said such hurtful things.” Dr. Fitzgerald jots more notes down. Lucy recedes further into herself. Her wings start to close in on her. Please don’t, Lucy. Please. He speaks up again. “This disagreement caused a rift between you and Trish. Fights can happen to everyone. Did you try to speak to her again?” Lucy’s snout presses further into her chest. Her fingers open, slowly working towards her feathers. I quietly move my hand in the direction of the green button on the wall, but Dr. Fitzgerald shakes his head at me, causing me to stop. Lucy mumbles, “She… our other friends… tried to help. At prom. It all… it all went wrong… I’m sorry…” Dr. Fitzgerald leans forward, unfolding his legs in the process. I don’t take it as a sign that we’re getting close to time as in the past, but rather that he’s focusing intently. “Your friends tried to help you, but things didn’t work out. You were in high school. Mistakes can happen, especially when you’re at that age. Keeping that pain bottled inside won’t help you overcome the past.” Lucy keeps muttering to herself, “I’m sorry… I’m sorry…” as her fingertips start sliding between her feathers. I look to Dr. Fitzgerald, ready to grab Lucy’s hands to physically intervene, when he holds a claw up to stop me. He leans forward further and speaks with a perfectly clear, calm voice that holds more authority than I’ve ever heard it carry before. “Lucy. Tell me about your wedding.” Her breath hitches in her throat. She still has her head buried in her chest, but her fingers stop closing. All I hear for a moment is her breathing, strained but steady as she processes his words. He speaks again. “What was your wedding dress like?” I can only barely see her face from behind her hair that’s fallen to the sides of her head, but I catch a glimpse of her eyes shifting back and forth as she tries to conjure forth the memory. She speaks in barely more than a whisper. “... It was white.” Dr. Fitzgerald’s tone becomes softer still, but still carries authority. “A traditional color, very good! What else can you tell me about it?” She starts to withdraw her hands away from her wings and shift her head up slightly. Her breathing is less labored. “It… it had lace… and a pleated skirt. It looked a… little like my feathers…” One of her fingertips extends outwards and gently slides across a feather in her left wing. “... There was a choker, too, with a red stone. Ruby. It was beautiful.” “Do you still have the dress?” As he speaks, more notes are scribbled into his notepad. Lucy nods in reply, her hands shifting further away from her wings, her posture uncoiling. The doctor continues, “What else do you remember about your wedding?” Lucy’s eyes begin to grow misty. She still looks at the floor between everyone, but she takes a deep breath to answer. “... Everything. I remember everything about that day. The ceremony was in our church. I was so nervous, I couldn’t keep my wings from fluttering, but my mom helped calm me down. She told me how much she loved me and how happy she was for Anon and I.” As she recalls the memory, her wings quake slightly. “The flowers around the altar were beautiful, but as I walked down the aisle, the only thing I could see was Anon. Everything else melted away. It was just me and him.” I want so desperately to throw my arms around her and embrace her right then and there, but Dr. Fitzgerald’s eyes wordlessly tell me to wait just a moment longer. I remain still, my full attention on Lucy’s words. She continues, “I never thought I would have a day like that. When I was a teenager, I never imagined I’d be married. I had so much bitterness and resentment inside that I didn’t want to have anything to do with anyone except my friends. I… I even tried pushing Anon away when we first met. I didn’t want to have anything to do with him. But he… broke through all of that, somehow. He saw something in me that my other friends and even I didn’t see. He loved me, even though I didn’t deserve to be loved. And he accepted me and cherished me. He pledged himself to me through our marriage, and he made me happier than I had ever been in my life.” She finally brings her head upwards, allowing her wings to return to their resting position behind her back. As her hair falls back into place, she spots me out of the corner of her eye, still seated next to her on the couch. She turns sharply, eyes widening as she lets out a gasp. In an instant, her surprise turns to tears as she throws both her arms and wings around me in an embrace, repeating my name through her sobs. I quickly return the gesture, holding her form close to my own as she lets out her emotions. Tears accumulate in my own eyes as I tell her that I love her. After a few moments, I shift to look towards Dr. Fitzgerald. He flips the page of his notebook, scribbling more ink upon it as a sort of accomplished smile rests on his face. He leans back in his chair once more and crosses his legs again. As Lucy regains her composure, she leans back, taking my hands in her own. We face one another on the couch, looking into each other’s eyes. The beautiful, flawed woman who gazes at me is the only woman I ever want to have in my life. But… there is still something unresolved. I have to know. I have to ask her, point blank. I take a deep breath before crossing into oblivion. “Lucy… why did you take my pills?” She blinks and casts her gaze downwards, the loving smile fading from her face. “I… I was scared. I didn’t know what else to do. I was… weak.” My heart practically rips in two as I have to form the words. “Were you trying to take your own life?” In an instant, her eyes fly up to meet mine, wider than I’ve ever seen them before. She practically shouts, “NO! Oh my God, no! I… it was an accident! I didn’t- I didn’t know…” Tears begin streaming from her eyes again. I can’t help but throw my arms around her and pull her close once more. I don’t consider myself to be a religious man, but in that moment all I can utter is, “Thank God… Thank God…” Behind my tear-blurred vision, I see Dr. Fitzgerald scrawling more notes. He nods subtly as he does so, confirming that he has come to the same conclusion as I have: Lucy is being honest. I squeeze her closer still, my heart skipping a beat. The void I’ve felt in my chest for the past several days slowly begins to feel less all-consuming. At this point, we’ve both done a lot of crying. A small mountain of used tissues has accumulated on the table in front of the couch. As we wipe our eyes once more, I know the line of questioning that needs to follow next. We’re over the hardest part, but now we have to get to the bottom of the mystery at hand. Dr. Fitzgerald is on the same reasoning wavelength as I am, despite having remained silent for the past few minutes. “Lucy, why were you feeling scared and weak enough that you felt you needed to take Anon’s antidepressants?” She inhales sharply through her nose as she gathers her thoughts. I know it’s been a whirlwind of emotions today, but stay strong for me, Lucy. Just a little longer. She looks me in the eyes as she speaks. “... After I found out about you meeting with Reed and Trish… it made me feel terrible. I understand that your intentions weren’t bad, but… I felt like you couldn’t trust me.” A sudden memory of my conversation with Ripley fires through my mind. He, too, had gotten into a fight with Samantha about keeping his new bowling ball a secret from her. He mentioned that Samantha wasn’t upset about the ball itself, but that she felt Ripley didn’t trust her enough to tell her about it. I nod in understanding, but Lucy continues. “That was… only part of it, though. It hurt that it felt like you couldn’t trust me, but it hurt even more that you… didn’t have faith in me.” I cock my head. “What do you mean? I’ve always-” She holds a hand up, beckoning me to let her finish. “When you went behind my back to meet with them, it made me feel like you didn’t believe in me. I know that I’ve been struggling; it hurts me so much to know the pain I put you through, and I’m trying as hard as I can to be strong.” She hangs her head. “I know you didn’t mean it that way, but it made me feel like I was failing you.” She begins trembling. “You were meeting with our friends and making those connections again, and I was left behind with my problems. My fear, my anxiety, my preening… I was just left with my stupid problems!” She shouts, “My stupid fucking problems! Why couldn’t I just fucking get over them?! Why do I have to make everything such a big fucking mess?!” She grits her teeth as she brings her hands to the sides of her head. I reach out to her but she pulls away from me. I freeze, mouth open and hand extended towards her, unable to find words. I had no idea. She lets out a frustrated groan as her arms sink back to her sides. She keeps looking down at the space between us. “I agreed to meet with them because I was trying to be stronger for you. But… I wasn’t ready. I kept pushing the thoughts away, the fears I had of of hurting their feelings again, of fucking everything up all over again… the fear that I might lose you because of my problems… I pushed them all aside. When the night came… I broke down. I couldn’t keep doing it. The thoughts overwhelmed me. When I went into the bathroom, I was so close to preening, but I stopped myself because I knew I would ruin everything like I always do. That’s when… I saw your pills.” Tears start welling up in her eyes again. She continues, “I didn’t read the label. I didn’t know they were dangerous for pterosaurs. I only knew they were antidepressants, and I was feeling pretty fucking depressed. I… didn’t know…” She lets out a pained laugh. “Hah! Another stupid fuck-up by stupid me. I’m a disaster.” I try to speak up. “Lucy…” She finally looks up at me, tears streaming down her face. “I’m so sorry for everything. I… I want to get better. I want to be stronger for you and for our future together, I-” Her voice catches in her throat. She coils her arms around her stomach and nearly doubles over, choking out the words between her cries. “... I want to be stronger for our family… I want to be stronger for our child!” In an instant, I wrap my arms around her and pull her in as close as I can. She buries her face in her hands and cries out in agony. “Oh my God! If I was already pregnant, and I did this… Oh my God…” I cradle her in my arms as she weeps, my own tears mingling with her hair as I gently rock her. I offer reassurances through my own muffled sobs. “Lucy… it’s okay… it’s okay…” I am a broken man. The only sound I can hear is that of the broken woman in my arms. The woman who I let down, who I made to feel so inadequate by my short-sighted, foolish actions. All I can do is hold her and cry with her. We are both broken… A few minutes later, the wellsprings of our eyes have run dry and our sobbing has ceased. I continue holding her. Dr. Fitzgerald speaks up, startling both of us slightly as we had nearly forgotten he was in the room with us. “I know that the two of you are feeling a lot of emotions right now, but I must congratulate you both. You have made an incredible amount of progress in only an hour.” I glance at my watch from over Lucy’s shoulder. Oh… actually, an hour and some change. He stayed late for us. He continues, turning to me. “Anon, I think that you’ve done well with sharing your past with Lucy. It is vitally important for both participants in a relationship to be open and honest with one another. After all, if you cannot trust the person who’s closest to you, then who can you trust?” He turns to Lucy. “Lucy, you showed an incredible amount of strength and courage by sharing your feelings today. You could not have done that if you didn’t have it in you, and I commend you for it. Though you may still be hurting from your past, I have complete faith that you can overcome that hardship.” As he stands, he flicks his notebook closed and places the items back in his briefcase. “As for the both of you… I told Anon two weeks ago that I don’t typically do couples therapy, but I can say with certainty that it’s been many years since I’ve come across two people who love each other as fiercely as you two. And that extends beyond my psychiatric practice. Neither of you are perfect or flawless, but you both bring out the best in yourselves and your spouse. If you can be honest with one another, rely on each other for support, and love one another as you overcome your struggles, I’m certain the two of you will live a happy and fulfilled life… together.” As Dr. Fitzgerald clicks his briefcase shut and moves across the room towards his hanging hat, Lucy and I retrieve a few more tissues to wipe away the remainder of our tears before we stand and offer him handshakes and farewells. At the door, he turns to us, gives a smile, and with a flick of his wrist deftly lands his hat atop his head. He glances at the two of us, then clicks his tongue against his teeth. “Hrm. Normally that gets a round of applause.” Lucy lets out a small giggle. I can only balk. “And here I thought you had no sense of humor at all.” He winks at me and grins. As the door closes behind him, Lucy and I stand in silence for a moment. We both did a lot of decompressing tonight, but a tremendous weight seems to have been lifted from us. As I turn to face her, she looks up at me with sad eyes. She opens her mouth to speak, but I cut her off. “Lucy, I’m sorry. I never meant to hurt you or pressure you with my actions. I only wanted to see where Reed and Trish were and if they were ready to mend bridges. I didn’t think about how it would affect you, and I’m sorry.” She looks down, pulling her arms in towards her body. “... I’m sorry, too. For everything. I’ve been a terrible wife-” I instantly scoop her into my arms in an embrace and cut her off. “Don’t say that. You have been the most wonderful wife I could have ever asked for. You are kind, loving, and beautiful. I’ve made the happiest memories of my life with you… On top of that, you’re an amazing cook.” At this, she lets out a muffled giggle from my chest. “You are my world, Lucy. I love you more than I can put into words. Yes, there are hard times, but I know you can find the strength to overcome your fears. I’ll always be here for you, for as long as I live.” She grips my shirt and pulls herself even closer, burying her forehead against my chest. “I love you, Anon. I’ll always love you.” I gently stroke her hair, breathing easier than I have in far too long as the pit in my chest all but vanishes. We might both be broken… but together, we make a whole. Lucy giggles. “... You’re mumbling again.” She looks up at me… and smiles. It’s the first time in the past four days that her smile is honest and true, free of pain, resentment and bitterness. It is free of the hurt I had caused her. It’s the smile of the woman who loves me… the woman who I love in return. We kiss. Far too soon, a knock at the door makes us part. We turn in unison as the door opens, revealing the form of the doctor from yesterday. The slender brown triceratops greets us. “Hello again, Lucy. Anon.” I reach out to shake his hand. “Doctor… Krause?” “Yes, that’s right.” He smiles at me, then at Lucy as he shakes her hand. “Well, I have some good news for you. I spoke with Dr. Fitzgerald a few minutes ago. He caught me on his way out. It seems he got a chance to speak with both of you this evening?” I nod. “Yeah, it was a little unconventional, but I had been seeing him every other Wednesday. He decided to stop by tonight for our appointment, a little out of the blue.” Dr. Krause smiles. “That’s Royce, all right. Anyway, based on his recommendation and the fact that all our tests and observations have been going well, I’m prepared to discharge Lucy.” He faces her. “That is… if you’re comfortable going home.” She turns to me and gives me another beautiful smile. “... Yes. I’d like that very much.”