When Blake entered the last room on the right side of the corridor at 6:07pm with a dinner tray, he found his young patient in bed. He was deeply hidden under the white blanket and sobbing loudly. Blake smiled sadly and put the tray down. He had immediately known that Justin would have difficulties with becoming acclimated. Anybody who lived in the same room for eighteen years and then put into a completely different building in a totally strange town, would feel the same way. “Hey,” He looked around and discovered the still packed bag locked tightly in front of the cupboard. “You still haven’t unpacked. Don’t you want to put your socks in the drawer?” Justin cried under the blanket and pushed his nose deeply into the pillow. “I bet this shelf would be perfect for your alarm clock.” Blake opened the bag and began to distribute a couple of things in the room. “I am sure your underwear feels very lucky now that it’s out of the dark bag.” The boy whimpered further, but more quietly so he could eventually hear what Plake had to say. “Oh look. Your trousers fit exactly on the upper shelf.” The male nurse took a stack of t-shirts from the bag and put them at the second shelf under the trousers. Justin sniffled and turned his face half from the pillow to be able to see something, at least with one eye. “Wow. I’d say you have a rather cool radio here!” Impressed, Blake took a silver radio from the bag. This thing really wasn’t bad. “Can I try it?” He didn’t wait for his patient to answer. He pulled a safety guard from one of the sockets and attached the radio’s plug. With a couple of twists on the buttons, a radio station from New York could be heard and he smiled at the boys nervous whimpering under the blanket. Justin turned a thick hair strand around his forefinger and mumbled nervously to himself. “Piii-pliiine to Paa ra-diiise.” He didn’t like the strange voice in the radio. He preferred to hear Pu'ukani. “Your iiiisland muu uuusic co-nnnn-e ct ion!” Blake grinned at this perfect imitation of a Hawaiian radio announcement. “Pipeline to Paradise? You’re a real Kahuna then, hmm?” Justin stayed in his exceptionally deep, monotonous intonation. “Cowabunga” The male nurse looked at Justin stupefied and then laughed out loud. “““““““““ Fifteen minutes later Justin wasn’t lying in his bed anymore and even though his blue eyes were red rimmed and welled up a little, his general disposition was much calmer now. The little radio was adjusted on the right frequency to receive Pipeline2Paradise in best quality and all garments of Justin’s had found their place in the cupboard. “Hey Justin,” Blake spoke quietly from the side to get his patients attention. “You feel a bit hungry now? It’s time for your dinner.” Justin looked at the watch and began to rock back and forth. “Aah.” It was Thursday. 6:29 pm. This was not good at all. Certainly dinner was always at 6 pm on Thursday. Two slices of bread with hard crust, eggs, peppers and meat paste. “Justin.” Blake sat himself at Justin's little table and began to spread salami on the wholemeal roll. “It’s ok. Remember? You’re in Pittsburgh now. It’s ok to eat a bit later in Pittsburgh.” “6 pm.” Justin ran to the door which wasn’t green and beat his hand against it. “6 pm. Of course it’s 6pm.” Blake watched the boy attentively, but however didn’t stop preparing the meal. “Justin? I would like for you to not beat your hand on the door. You’ll hurt yourself. Come here and try the salami. You surely like salami, hmm?” Justin loved salami. Monday was salami day, but today wasn’t Monday. Of course today was Thursday. Therefore he would certainly not eat any salami. Today it was eggs and peppers and… “…meat paste. 6 pm.” “It’s meat paste in Harrisburg today?” Justin rocked back and forth and curled blond hair around his finger. “6 pm. Of course it’s meat paste.” “Ok.” The male nurse put the roll aside. “I gave you a piece of paper earlier. Where is it now?” Justin looked up to his bedside table, not stopping his rocking motions. Blake got up, fetched the small paper and went to his patient. “What does it say? See? What have I written for you Justin?” “6 pm.” Justin was stubborn and didn’t want to look at the piece of paper. Blake grinned. “Justin Taylor. 3 Fuller Street. 15219 Pittsburgh Pennsylvania USA. Do you remember? Justin has moved. Not in Harrisburg anymore.” “Moved?” Justin looked blankly past the male nurse and directly at the white wall. “Yes, exactly. You have moved. Justin lives in Pittsburgh now with Plake.” The rocking stopped slowly and a small smile drew over Justin's lips. “Plake” “Yes. Plake and Justin are living in Pittsburgh now and can you see this?” Blake drew out a black and white copy of the weekly St. James meal plan. “Here in Pittsburgh its wholemeal rolls, salami, butter, cheese and pickled gherkin on Thursday.” “Meat paste.” “Not here in Pittsburgh.” “6 pm.” Blake sighed, fetched Justin’s deep blue alarm clock off the shelf, altered the time to 6 pm and then held the clock in front of his patients face. “6 pm. Will you eat the salami roll now?” Justin looked astonished at his clock. Then he took it into his hand, shook it and knocked on its plastic structure. It was 6 pm again. That had never happened before. “Justin? You really don’t want to miss dinner time again, do you?” Justin looked once again at the clock and then went to the little table with the salami. He kept the magic watch tightly in his hand while eating the whole roll and half of the pickled gherkin. Although pickled gherkins were actually for Sunday evenings only. Of course. “““““““““ The last point on Dr. Bruckner’s to do list for the day was the welcoming of his newest patient. He knocked at J. Taylor’s door shortly after 7 pm. At St. James it was not usual to ask for permission to enter a room, so he didn't wait for it before opening the door. He knocked on doors only out of courtesy. “Good evening, I'm Dr. Bruckner.” He entered the room with a kind smile and saw a thin boy sitting at a small table. His head hung down, almost touching the table top and his face covered by a thick curtain of bright blond hair. “Mister Taylor? Justin? Do you mind if I sit down with you for a little while?” Dr. Bruckner took the little stool and sat down opposite the boy. Justin remained still. His right hand clutched an old book of fairy tales tightly against his chest and the other held something. A pen. A blue wax crayon which he kept clasped tightly. “Justin? Wouldn’t you like to tell me hello?” The tip of Justin's nose touched a little piece of paper which lay on the table. The paper smelled of wax crayon. Like the blue one. Justin breathed in deeply. He liked blue. “I am your therapist for the next couple of months. What are you doing? Does this become a drawing?” Justin felt his eyes become damp and once again breathed in deeply. This time through his mouth and a little louder. Dr. Bruckner tipped his head to the side and gave the boy a closer look before extending his hand to stroke the blond hair. “It takes a while to settle down in a new place. And it’s ok to be sad at first. To miss your old place.” Something wet ran down Justin’s nose and it tickled. The professor stroked the soft strands once again before getting up. “The nurses have the number of my pager. Just let me know if you want to talk, ok? I’ll stop by every time you want me to.” “One five two one nine Pittsburgh Pennsylvania USA. One five two one nine.” Justin dropped his forehead against the little paper on the table. “One five two one nine.” He knew Justin Taylor's new numbers exactly now. …only the prince didn’t know the numbers. And without the right numbers certainly the letter would never arrive at the prince’s castle. “““““““““ At 8:30 pm Blake made his last check on station four and smiled gently as he entered the last room on the right side at the end of the corridor. It was dark except for the moonlight and the shine of the streetlights, coming from outside the window. Justin wasn’t in his bed. He still sat at the table with a wax crayon in his hand and his head on a well-worn book of fairytales. Like on a pillow. He slept and breathed evenly. A crumpled piece of paper lay beneath his other hand marked by a blue crayon. Blake pulled it out carefully. The handwriting was smeared and reminded him of a preschooler. Blake read the sentence three times before carefully putting the wrinkled paper back on the table. He took the pen from Justin’s thin fingers and stroked the boys head while he softly whispered to him to wake up. He stood beside Justin and held him firmly by the arm to help him up. The patient hardly opened his eyes as they took the few steps toward the bed and mumbled something unintelligible, but when Blake tried to direct him down on to the mattress, he stopped stubbornly and suddenly seemed wide awake. “Come on Justin. You’re tired. Lay down.” “Channel…channel four.” “Channel four?” “Channel four.” “You want to watch television? What’s on channel four?” “Channel four. The good night greeting. Eight…eight o´clock on channel four.” Blake looked at the boy attentively. “The good night greeting is on channel four at 8 pm?” “Channel four.” Blake held his watch to Justin's eye-level. “8:36 pm. Justin the good night greeting is over now. You can watch it tomorrow.” “Watch it tomorrow.” Justin couldn’t recognize the numbers on Plakes’ watch in the darkness. “Tomorrow Justin.” The male nurse pulled the blanket back and guided Justin into a sitting position on the mattress. “Time to sleep now. You’re tired.” Was he? Yes. His eyes felt very heavy and he wanted to sleep a little more. So he tucked his legs under the blanket and put his head on the pillow. “Here. Your book.” Blake covered the boy up and shoved the fairytale book under the cushion. “No one can take it now, right?” A ghost of a smile played over Justin's red lips for a few seconds and three of his fingers followed the precious book protectively under the down filled pillow, before his eyes fell shut. Blake smiled and stroked soft blond hair from a pale face. “Good night…frog prince.” ___________________________________________________ thanks to our wonderful beta Sam