She didn’t answer; instead, she walked to the table, uncovered the dish, found her silverware and began eating. Each bite she took faster and faster.

“Slow down; I can’t have you choking on my watch. I’m already on probation for our late night escapades.”

It wasn’t funny. Claire knew she was supposed to be concerned about appearances. Following rules and behaving was essential for appearances; however, listening to Meredith talk about breaking rules made her smile. It was either that, or the blue in her eyes. All the people around the facility wore white scrubs. Well, except for Emily, the doctors, and therapists. Suddenly, more than food, Claire wanted color. Wasn’t that an odd request? Maybe that was what being crazy was all about, seeing things differently and wanting things that others didn’t realize were gone.

When her plate was clean, Claire stood and went to the closet for her jacket. The voice that had been counting told her to look down. She knew to obey; disobeying could have negative consequences; but hadn’t Meredith just been talking about breaking rules? Shyly, Claire lifted her eyes. There was Meredith watching her. Before she could stop it, her lips morphed into a smile—the rush was intoxicating. The voice would be mad; however, if Tony wasn’t going to visit anymore—Claire wanted to talk with her friend.

Meredith asked, “Do you want to walk by yourself?” The panic in Claire’s eyes was enough of an answer. Meredith gently tucked Claire’s hand into the crook of her arm and led her toward the outside. As she did, she spoke calmly about the weather and the changing leaves. The entire trip down the corridor, through the multiple doors, along the perimeter of the cafeteria, Claire kept her eyes downcast and walked in step.

Dr. Fairfield had instructed the staff to be less accommodating, to wait and see if Claire would recognize her needs, and then ask to have them fulfilled. In Claire’s excitement to go outdoors, Meredith noticed she’d forgotten the sunglasses—that was all right, Meredith had remembered. As they walked toward the outside doors, Meredith wondered if she should’ve waited for Claire to ask to go outside; however, it seemed that when Claire got her own jacket, it was more of a request than she’d previously made. Dr. Fairfield may not agree, but to Meredith it was enough of a request to propel Meredith to walk the ends of the earth—if Claire so desired.

When they stepped into the courtyard, Claire lifted her face and momentarily basked in the sunshine. At that moment, she opened her eyes and immediately closed them. Turning her face toward Meredith, Claire’s eyes made the unspoken request. The friend in her wanted to reach in her pocket and hand her the glasses; instead, she contemplated this being her last chance to help Claire and placed her hand over Claire’s and walked forward. When Claire’s steps stopped, Meredith asked, “What’s the matter? I thought you wanted to go for a walk.”

Claire kept her eyes half open and half shut—that action should’ve been enough to tell Meredith what she needed; however, instead of helping, Meredith continued walking. When Claire didn’t move, Meredith said, “If there’s something you need, just ask.”

Oh, Claire had heard that before—she knew this routine. She also reasoned, if Meredith was using Tony’s words, it couldn’t be against Tony’s rules to ask. Nearing her friend’s ear, she whispered, “Sunglasses.”

Claire then remembered Tony’s requirements from a long time ago. He’d never acquiesce to one word. If Claire wanted something she needed to ask—in the form of a request. Just now, she hadn’t asked. Looking from side to side, being sure no one was listening, she cleared her throat and proceeded, “Did you bring them?”—“Can”—“I”—“please”—“wear them?” Her words didn’t truly form a sentence, more phrases glued together with silence.

Meredith didn’t answer. She reached into the pocket of her white scrubs and removed the sunglasses. Once again, Claire let her smile shine and reached for the glasses. Although Meredith didn’t require it, after they’d walked a short distance, Claire said, “Thank you.”

It was the most she’d said—or wanted to say—since before she could remember. By the time they reached the far side of the courtyard, Claire was ready to ask the question she knew would take away her happiness.

Although the sun was bright, the breeze blew with cooler gusts than the day before. It didn’t bother Claire. She actually appreciated it. The colder weather kept others from going outside; they were alone in this remote area of the grounds. Looking down, Claire summoned the little bit of strength she’d acquired throughout the day. She’d silently practiced her question a hundred different ways. In her mind, it started with an eloquent preamble. Now that the opportunity was present, she blurted the words she could no longer contain, “Is Nichol—dead?”