Title: Maxed Out- Special Edition
Author: NurseDarry
Notes: Therapy

Something bad has happened, this much I know. The security of the empire where the women of HSU come from has been breached, and it is feared that many legions of their population have passed into Elysium. I have never seen the women so sombre, confused, hysterical, sedate, comforting, engaging, argumentative, humble and supportive. In the space of minutes, they are every feeling, every temper, every woman I have ever known.

We are in the “pub”, where we have been all yesterday and last night. The women refuse to leave and I do not blame them. The pictures that the machine on the wall has been showing are horrible, unreal. And to make this worse for them, the women have little information from outside this province. Some have had no word from their friends and families. In my day, news took days, even weeks, but not here. The women of HSU are used to instant information and I can see how it frustrates them to wait for details, details, which are so important. Often one woman gets angry and wants to turn the machine to another setting where animals or ships in the stars move across the screen, but this is only fleeting, and we once again return to the iniquity we have been watching for hours.

All food and drink is being made and served by my men and the boys from the college in the nearby county. These boys have no concept of what´s happened, but feel that it far outweighs the petty squabbling in which much of their time is spent with these women. We try to encourage the women to take food, but many of them refuse. Still others cannot get enough. The way they grieve, it appears, is as individual as each woman.

I frequently think about the carnage I witnessed as a gladiator, but it is nothing compared to what this generation is capable. There we met our foes in person; one knew one´s opponents were laudable adversaries, worthy of praise regardless of personal opinion. These current acts, from what I can tell, bear no trademark of intuition, insight or respect.

Even Comodus, who I see there with his lady, both wrapped in his purple cloak as if to ward off further evil, was brave enough to face me when it mattered. And he is cunning too. Now, he looks only thoughtful, soothing the woman with him and quietly reassuring her.

The serving woman who normally works in this room is not serving. She is standing behind the bar, holding her bat. It is security; a familiar object from which she derives comfort. Occasionally the General comes to her and gently puts the weapon down in order to hold the woman in his arms. I try to amuse her with tales of my horses, and she smiles politely at me, but I can tell she isn´t really listening.

The woman in black sits in the corner with her two men, alternately watching the machine on the wall and reading from a large leather-bound book. The young man in the pale royal colour occasionally snaps his fingers, indicating that he and the woman require food or drink. Sometimes he preens himself or the woman, who seems to appreciate it, although, with her, it is sometimes difficult to know. The other man, the dark one with the long hair, just sits and watches the images, slowly shaking his head and muttering “cowards” or “amatures”. I cannot help but agree.

The woman who was my Princess paces the room, occasionally eating, occasionally crying, always thinking, trying to appear in control. This image is shattered when the General walks to her and holds her. Sometimes she crumples against him, other times she maintains control and continues to pace, he at her side. She does not notice, but I keep my eye upon her, willing her to be strong, and I am there for her should she need me.

The woman in charge of the controls for the machine that makes pictures is holding up well, despite the none-too-gentle requests for the changing of images. She and her sister have run around trying to find out as much information as possible with very little to go on. I see that the leaders of the current time are as fond of rhetoric as the senators were in my time, and it´s a credit to these women that they are able to filter out the facts from fiction. The General, unable to use any kind of his magic in this tragedy, reminds them often of their good works with praise and affection.

My servant sits, his arms about his clinician, rather than helping the men. I asked him to stay with her as she was in great distress over being unable to help those she is watching. That view seemed mirrored on the faces of the other women and some of my men as well, and I cannot pretend to have any idea how frustrating that feeling must be. She clings to him and shakes quietly until he makes her smile with a whispered comment. Cicero will not leave her side, and for once, the woman seems happy for the company of those around her.

The General also spends time with the two women who are constantly trying to deluge him. Today they sit in stunned silence for much of the time. It is only when the General appears before them at the bar and pours a pint glass of water over himself that they seem to change; they smile and laugh and release hours of tension. I look around the room, but no one else seems to have noticed. This treat, it seems, is for them only.

My Jael sits with her Dog from Space, alternately looking quite fierce and then quite childlike. I watch her with fondness, thinking she, like the Medic, must find it hard to watch without being able to take action. She would have rallied my men, had she not realised how fruitless that would be. This is a crisis for her time to undertake, not for a legion of Romans who would never engage such a hollow enemy. I pray for her. I pray for them all. I know they will survive this crisis, they always do, but at what cost?

So many people…I consider how important it is to think of the dead. Then I finish my rounds with the jug of wine and the basket of Hershey´s kisses and sit with Jael to remind her how important the living are to me.

“This will be a day long remembered.”
~James Earl Jones (b. 1931)