A DEFINITE UNDERSTANDING

When Robert was done with all his tests, the doctor decided to admit him at least for overnight, explaining to Julie that he wanted to keep him on oxygen longer and also to be able to check his blood oxygen levels. "Your husband was completely disoriented by
the toxic levels of the smoke he inhaled and has quite a lot of tissue irritation, though he seems to have escaped thermal damage. I did a bronchoscopy and I think he's going to be all right. It's just a good thing he wasn't inside the building longer than he was."

"And the man he saved?"

The doctor wasn't sure 'saved' was the right word. "Well, the man he pulled out is not quite so fortunate, I'm afraid."

"Is Robert awake?"

"No," the doctor replied, a bit of a strange expression crossing his face.

"Not because of the smoke?"

"No, not that."

"But the nurse explained it was just a light sedative he gave him earlier."

"It was. Obviously too light." Again the odd expression.

"What are you saying, doctor?"

"He began to wake up during the x-ray. Seemed to think he was being attacked or something, almost choked the tech. Kept hollering something in some language I couldn't understand. Sounded like some form of old English a bit, though. Never heard the like. Anyway, when I got there, the tech was starting to turn blue so I had to give him something a lot stronger than he'd been given previously. He'll probably sleep through the night now. I hope," he added.

"Do...do you think he'll be all right, then, when he wakes up again?"

"His mind?" She nodded. "Yes, he probably should. A lot of hours of concentrated oxygen will make a big difference. His airways will be irritated for a while, though. No strenuous exercise, nothing like that. He'll need a lot of rest and it would be best if he had someone with him." He looked at Julie. "Do you have to work or will you be able to stay home with your husband?"

"I...I work from home," she stammered, trying not to look guilty at her repeated sin of omission in not stating she was not Robert's wife.

"Good!" he said. "I can probably release him a bit earlier since he'll have someone with him. We'll just wait and see how his levels are doing tomorrow and make our decision then."

"May I go to his room now?" she asked.

"Certainly," the doctor nodded, giving her directions to the floor to which Robert had been moved.

She stood in the doorway of his room, looking at him, then pulled a small chair close to the bed. Resting her forearms on the bedrail, she leaned her chin on her hands. "Oh, Robert, I hope you'll forgive me for not disabusing them for what they're thinking here. But I just couldn't have you left all alone, you know. There doesn't seem to be anybody else in all of Australia who even knows you're on the continent."

His chest rose and fell regularly, but it seemed to her there was some indefinable 'flatness' to him that came with a deep level of sedation. She wasn't sure just why that was, but she'd noticed it before with other people. Something about their presence was either deflated a bit or perhaps just sunk somehow into the mattress. Robert was such a vital man that it bothered her to see that in him and she suddenly needed to touch him, to feel his warm aliveness beneath her fingers.

She let her palm slide down the full length of his right arm then curve under his hand. Lifting his hand, she explored his fingers, one by one, it having dawned fully on her that she could freely do so. Her mind began to write as her fingertips made their way very slowly over his knuckles then turned his hand, tracing the lines of his palm. Turning it again, she studied the patterns of the veins in the back of his hand. He had several smaller scars there as though his right hand had been forward in some scene of danger.

A nurse popped in to check his monitors. "He's resting nicely, Mrs. Loxley. Just what the doctor wanted."

Loxley. There it was again. Robert Loxley. There was no way she could write of late 12th century England and not be familiar with the name of Loxley. "It can't be your actual name, your real name, Robert...can it?" she whispered. It was just too...strange. He worked with wood, lived in a forest, guarded his identity...and that identity was... Loxley?? No, that was strange, stranger than anything she'd ever thought of in her wildest authorial imaginings.

"Stop it, Julianna," she berated herself. "Next you'll be dressing him in green, for Pete's sake!" Her mouth dropped open at the thought. Robert did seem to like to wear a lot of green, now didn't he? "No," she shook her head. "No."

She studied his quiet face. Perhaps the man just had some sort of intellectual, historically-based fascination with the time period? After all, he knew more stories of the Third Crusade than anyone she'd ever met. That must be it. He was a 12th century scholar gone a bit over the top. She breathed a sigh of relief, having come to that conclusion.

Maximus knocked lightly and opened the door part way. "How is your husband?" he asked. "He has my gratitude for what he did for my friend today."

"Sleeping," she said. "They had to give him more sedation, I'm afraid."

"Did something happen?" He came more into the room, studying the man on the bed.

"In x-ray. Seems like he tried to choke the tech."

"He and modern hospital technology do not seem to get along," Maximus smiled.

She turned so she could see Maximus' face better. "The smoke, they say, affected his mental state. I'm not sure why, though, it's made him feel like he's being...attacked."

"Memories of battle can remain most vivid long after the fact."

"Battle? You really think he thought he was in the midst of some...battle?"

"So it would appear, yes."

"And you knew that?"

"I did."

"But...but you are a general, right? It would make some sense if you were in his position, but him...."

"You know, then, that he has not been in battle?"

"I...I...."  No, she did not know that. She suddenly remembered his desk. "He...he has a sword on his desk...at home he has a sword."

"Would you describe it for me?"

She did and he nodded. "Ah!" he murmured. "That makes sense."

"Makes sense? WHAT makes sense?"

"The timing."

"Timing?"

"Of why he called me Richard."

She felt dizzy. Robert had called the general Richard. "But...but he couldn't possibly have thought...."

"Could he not?"

Her mind was turning flip flops, sliding hither and yon and back again, but the man standing in front of her seemed utterly composed, as though none of this were any big deal. Indeed, he was looking at Robert with a definite fond understanding in his eyes.

"I heard you refer to your husband once as Robert," he said, turning his gaze to Julie again. "May I ask for the rest?"

"Loxley," she croaked. "His name is Robert Loxley."

A smile widened Maximus' lips. "Ah," he murmured again. "I see."

"What do...?" she began, but he turned on his heel, heading for the door.

"I must go. I do not wish to be away from news of Alistair for long."

She ran to the door, watching after him as he strode to the stairs, thinking that she'd never seen a man walk with such a total yet natural air of authority.  He turned the corner and she looked back at Robert. "What do you see, General. What in God's name do you SEE?"