Chapter Text
It’s not every day that the Prince of England is put under your care and guidance. The entire hospital wing was under a strict NDA, but his was…kind of insane. It had about ten extra pages, and most of it was things he would never share anyway. He loved his job, he wasn’t about to violate every law that protected patient privacy and confidentiality agreements. Either way, he’d been assigned as Prince Henry’s primary support person while he went through psychiatric treatment.
He’d been there before, that’s why he decided to go into psychiatric nursing. He was younger, sixteen, dealing with a lot of pent-up anger (and trauma) from his parent's divorce and all the pressure he was putting himself through to get as many college credits as possible, trying his best to be perfect and functional. When he cracked. And he’d never stopped being grateful for the support he’d been given to get back on his feet. So when he went to choose his college major…he ended up choosing psychology. Then went to nursing school and…well here he is.
Prince Henry was un-shockingly, disheveled looking. His hair was oily and thin, his cheeks sunken in. He wasn’t…really told what he’d be dealing with. But he immediately realized that he was emaciated. He looked exhausted, arms bandaged and resting on top of his blankets limply. He was watching a Star Wars movie, Return of the Jedi. Instead of picking up the file on the table that sat at the edge of his bed (which is what he was supposed to do.), he sat in the cozy, leather chair next to his bedside. “Empires better.”
He turned his head fully. “...It’s too dark for my tastes.”
“Ironic.” He clicked his tongue. “I kind of like the darkness, it’s complex. Plus, Han and Leia kiss. A bisexual dream.” He hummed, he’d been told by the family members (which he distantly remembered recently stopped including the former queen. The funeral was a huge thing, and everything was closed…except the Hospital. Of course.) that Henry was gay. He thought maybe, letting him know he was safe in that regard would be helpful for his recovery.
He frowned, moving his arms into his lap and staring at them. “...Who even are you?”
“I’m Alex.” He held his hand out. Henry shook it. “I’m in charge of your psychiatric care while you’re here after you’re moved into a residential facility, and afterward. I’m not…I’m a nurse.” He clarified. “You have a therapist. But…I’m basically in charge of monitoring you, giving you a more…casual way of support. I’m also qualified to take care of your wounds and…make sure you’re staying healthy.” After he was done with his spiel, Henry nodded softly. “Do you have any questions?”
“...” He watched as blue eyes scanned his face as if trying to analyze his inner thoughts just by looking at him. “Yes.”
“Shoot.” He leaned back.
“...Will you just call me Henry…? Instead of…my full title.”
He frowned. “Yeah, of course. Why do you want that though…?”
He bit his lip, looking up at the harsh, fluorescent lights. “I think…that if we want this to work…then…I just…want to be more like friends. Two people working closely in order to…”
“Make sure you don’t make an attempt on your own life again.”
“Yes…” He cleared his throat. “You’re not my doctor, not really. And you’re not my therapist. But you’re still a health professional.”
“I’m…I guess I’m a professional friend. Sure.” He shrugged. “Can I read uh…your file?”
Henry shifted uncomfortably. “If you must.” He turned his attention back to his movie.
He opened it and was met with the information. He’d been diagnosed with anxiety and depression since his father's death. The next pages detailed what had landed him here, problems with self-harm and anorexia. He was diagnosed with autism when he was 22…that was really all that mattered there. His treatment plan required that he stayed in the main hospital until they took his stitches out, and then was moved to residential treatment. He was meant to follow him, be his monitoring nurse during his mealtimes, his showers, and so on. Take him to and from places…it was all very…new. He didn’t make a habit of doing much outside helping patients in the psychiatric wing. He’d never been…like assigned to a patient for the duration of their treatment. He considered asking around…just to see if anyone else had been through something like this. If they had advice. But this was clearly some special situation because Henry was the…bloody prince of England.
“Tough stuff.” He frowned. Looking up at him.
“…yeah.” He mumbled back.
“Where’d you spend most of your time growing up?”
Henry’s head shot up. “Is this some sort of therapist psychoanalysis shit?”
He was startled a bit, Henry’s voice filled with venom. Anger and Hatred for Alex in that moment.
“No. I’m just trying to get to know you better.” He sat back by him, holding the file in his lap so Henry wouldn’t be able to see it. “Let me ask you this, do you prefer if I’m completely transparent with you? About what the purpose of what we’re doing is and what it’s meant to do for your treatment. Or, would you rather I don’t tell you, and let you try and recover without knowing the tactics.”
Henry furrowed his eyebrows, there was a crease there that told him he probably did it often enough to give him early wrinkles. “…I'd like it if you tell me why. I’ve always found it easier to know the path I'm going down.”
He nodded. “Alright. I’ll draft up a road map and make sure to get it in your homework folder.”
“Homework.” Henry frowned.
“Therapy homework. They’re meant to help you connect with your mind without you both fighting a war” He made vague gestures with hands.
“I’m an adult, I don’t need homework.”
“You’re an adult, in therapy. You get homework, congrats.” He clapped, much to Henry's dismay. Either way, he seemed to acquiesce to the fact that he’d be doing actual, on paper, work.
He could tell that Henry was getting tired of conversation, so he got up, and left with the file. He’d have to make copies and such, which was going to be a pain to keep confidential…but it’s not like he had any other choice.
He didn’t get much relaxation time, when he wasn’t in the hospital working, he was on call. If he wasn’t on call, he was sitting and stewing over something that had happened when he was at work. But…now all his patients were given to other nurses. His focus was only on Henry . He looked over the schedule he was given.
Visit Henry everyday until his discharge, work alongside him half days in the Psychiatric hospital, whenever he was moved to it, go home and relax. He was off on weekends, because Henry would be home during them. All in All, it wasn’t a bad gig. One patient, and he was getting paid…a fair bit extra for the “inconvenience.” The perks of working for the crown, he supposed. Either way…his life got way easier. It just made him feel like a terrible person to be…happy about Henry's turmoil.
He showed up the next day to see four people in Henry's room. To say he was starstruck would…be an understatement. He wasn’t British, nor a fan of the monarchy. In Fact he was the opposite. But he was standing in the same room…as two princes, a princess, and the Queen of England. And all of them were…literally gorgeous?
Henry looked uncomfortable, if nothing else. The redhead next to him, which he immediately noted was his older sister, was holding his hand tight. As if to tether him to the earth.
“Henry, you can’t stay in the hospital forever. This was just a little accident, you can’t just sit here shirking your responsibilities because you had a little episode.” The man in his room, Phillip, looked…well. Pissed.
“Phillip, that’s quite enough-” Catherine spoke next, trying to urge her son to stop talking.
“Mum, I don’t think you get it.” He grinned, it was a cruel one. “Henry can’t expect to sit in hospitals for the next few months, and just get to be at peace and not do anything?!”
“Phillip!” Bea shouted, Henry flinched, he knew he had to intervene when he heard the beat that monitored his heart started rapidly increasing. He pushed further into the room and ducked into a cabinet to place a set of headphones over his ears. He knew he was being stared at, but this was his job. Henry was his patient. He stood there next to him, a hand on his shoulder and smiled.
“Is there an issue you have with Henry’s care plan?” He met Phillips cruel grin with one of his own. “I assure you me, his doctors, and his psychiatrists have worked very hard to make sure he’ll be able to return to Buckingham nice and safe.” Henry tugged on his sleeve.
He looked down at him, and he just whispered. “Kensington.”
“Kensington.” He corrected himself. “But please, tell me what your degree in psychology says about this, Your royal highness.”
Phillip stood there, slightly shocked. But Bea and Catherine looked endlessly amused.
“Well- I just. He’s third in line for the throne. He can’t sit here in a tower for months and act as if there isn’t work to be done.”
“He’ll never be king.” Bea rolled her eyes. “Similarly, I’ll never be queen. You’ll have an heir soon enough, I’m sure of it.” She seemed to care enough about her sister in law to note that she wanted her to be able to have a child.
“Either way…”
“Either way. I think we need to focus on Henry getting better.” Catherine put her hand on Henry’s calf and smiled. “The plan is lovely, Mr.Claremont-Diaz. Thank you.”
“Just Alex, is alright. Your majesty.”
“And Catherine is also, just fine.” She patted Henry’s leg. “Anything to get Hen healthy.”
Henry smiled softly. “I’m sorry.” He looked at Bea and Catherine. At that moment he stood, leaning down to whisper to Henry.
“I’m gonna go get your food.” He could see Henry freeze. “I’ll be back in fifteen, if you want them out while we get you fed.” He nodded, and he left the room with a small wave. By the time he came back, Henry was staring at his phone with a slight look of confusion on his face. He gently put the tray of food on the rolling table.
“What’s up? Something bad?”
“Er- No. Sorry.” He looked up, his eyes locked onto the tray of food, and he just swallowed deeply. “Must…I eat all of it?”
He tilted his head back and forth. “Not…technically. But when we get transferred, you will. They’re really strict about ED stuff in actual wards…so it’s best for us to at least try.”
“Us…” Henry mumbled. “Are you eating?” He looked over.
“Do you want me to?” He nodded, so…he moved the table away from Henry and ran to go get a tray of his own. When he came back, he could tell the table had been moved.
“Did you…try and get some of the food off?” The look on Henry's face told him that he was right. “It’s alright. I’ll be here.” He pulled the table to rest over Henry's lap and watched as he sat up. He pulled the table attached to the chair he was sitting in to rest over his lap. He had the same meal as Henry. It was just…Mac and Cheese, an apple, and a piece of bread. He could tell there was a failed attempt to get rid of some of the Mac and Cheese on Henry’s tray, but either way. They were identical. He took a bite, and watched as Henry took one as well.
“Do you prefer to talk while we eat?” He looked over.
“I’d prefer if you talked.” He cleared his throat. “Please.”
He shrugged, taking another bite. Even he didn’t have the nerve to speak with his mouth full in this situation. He knew for a lot of people with eating disorders, they saw food as something gross. Part of his job here was to show Henry that it wasn't.
“So I called my mom last night. She uh…She’s kind of a big deal back home.” He looked over, Henry had taken at least two more bites since he last looked. He took one of his own. “Back home being, yknow America. Texas, specifically. She was a representative and she’s about to run for president soon.” He smiled. “I’m really proud of her. Anyway, I have an older sister too, and she was telling me about June, that’s my sister…Uh. She’s a journalist, and she was saying something about how June went into a hospital for an article recently. And like…my parents and family. They’re super proud of me.” He leaned back. “But yknow…Psychiatric nursing isn’t really where the money is?”
Henry nodded. “I asked how much they paid you.” He sat there, a bit dumbstruck? How was he meant to react to someone saying that they know how little you get paid? “I asked them to double it. Did they?”
He frowned. “Tripled…actually. Why’s it matter?” He looked over. Henry had taken some bites out of the apple. For how sick he looked, he was able to eat a fair bit. Was it…because he was talking?
“Hm.” He leaned his head back. “I just think…that it’s unfair. You seem like a good nurse. My doctor was saying you were the best they had…and my Mum seemed to have googled you or something. Said you were impressive.”
“Oh.” He looked at his bowl. “Yeah…I don’t know. I don’t think I need to be paid more. I’d do this job even if I wasn’t getting paid.” He shrugged. “I just…like knowing I’ve helped people.”
“I see…” Henry took another bite, so he mirrored the move. Thoughtfully chewing before swallowing.
“I uh…was inpatient.” He looked down. “When I was 16. I uh…Kind of lost it. I’m alright now. But…yeah. I’ve just always been grateful to my nurses for what they did for me…Saved my life, actually.”
Henry looked at him fully for the first time all day. “Really?” He nodded. “Is it rude to ask…er…” He played with the seam of his bedsheet. “What…is wrong with you?”
He sighed. “We usually say what the diagnosis is or what you’re suffering from.” Henry whispered an apology but he waved it off. “I have ADHD. That’s really all I was diagnosed with long term. It can cause depressive episodes and a lot of anxiety. I was overworking myself a lot and uh…yeah it just caught up to me.”
Henry nodded. “...I think mine was just…a really long build up. I went to Uni and took a gap year…and then it just became a gap.” He looked down. “Eventually you start feeling pretty…useless.” He nodded, urging him to go on. “Anyway…I guess I just got caught up in the…funeral and the coronation. I just got stressed and…forgot to eat.” He poked his fork into his mac and cheese. “I think…at some point I thought the starvation…made everything easier.”
He took Henry's hand in his, and smiled. “That’s good. Thank you for trusting me with that.” Henry eyed their joint hands before shakily taking another bite.