Chapter 2: Not Who You Think

Henry watched as Killian, his mom's boyfriend, unlocked the door and walked in.

"Hi Henry," he said, "Glad to see you're awake and alert." He said this like it was some kind of joke.

"Killian," said Henry, "What's going on?"

"Who's Killian?" asked Killian.

"You are," said Henry.

"Henry," said Killian, "I'm not who you think I am."

Henry looked at him in confusion. And then he realized something. This man who looked like Killian, had an American accent. He looked like Killian, he held himself like Killian, he even had Killian's somewhat overgrown facial hair.

But he was dressed in a white lab coat and what was more, he was wearing glasses. Henry couldn't remember Killian ever needing glasses.

"My name," said the man who looked like Killian, "is Doctor Kevin Jones. I'm your primary psychiatrist."

"Where am I? Where are my moms?"

Dr. Jones sighed.

"Before I begin, I want you to know that what you're experiencing here today is actually very encouraging. This is as lucid as you've been in over three years."

"I don't understand," said Henry.

"As you've probably managed to put together you are in a Mental Institution. To be more specific you are in the McLean Hospital in Boston Massachusetts. Your mother – Regina Mills that is – paid a lot of money to get you in here.

"You're here because a little under a year after your birth mother – Miss Emma Swan – arrived in your hometown – Storybrooke was it? – you suffered a psychotic break, and a rather severe one at that. You already had been convinced that you lived in a town of fairytale characters. Your therapist thought it was just a fantasy you'd created and begun to believe, nothing more severe. Which is what we teach therapists to conclude in cases such as yours. However it turned out to be something much more severe in your case.

"Your fantasy became, well your reality. You withdrew from this reality.

"Your friends and family panicked. They had you rushed to Storybrooke's Hospital and I understand that you were well taken care of, but it quickly became clear that you needed more professional care."

Henry felt numb.

"Your mother," continued Dr. Jones, "Regina Mills that is, insisted on only the best care for you. After some research she phoned us at the McLean Hospital. We agreed to take a look at your case. I recommended we take you on and have you moved over to our facilities here in Boston to better care for you."

Henry wanted to scream, wanted to cry. But he couldn't open his mouth and tears wouldn't come.

"For the last three years we have been caring for you here," finished Dr. Jones.

Henry backed away from Dr. Jones. He couldn't bring himself to say anything. He had a million questions. A million thoughts. But they were all nonsense. All of them coming at him at once.

"No," said Henry, hoping that the word would make the meaning behind it true: No. You're wrong. I'm not crazy. Everything in my life until this moment is real. Is true. This is the lie. This is the delusion.

"No," he said again.

"Henry," said Dr. Jones, "it's alright. You're awake now. You're safe now. We're going to call your moms and they'll be here as soon as they can."

"No," said Henry, and then an idea struck him. He could practically see the cartoon light bulb lighting up above his head, "There's a curse. Someone put a curse on me, and you and who knows who else to make you forget and make me think I'm crazy."

"Henry," said Killian, "please."

"Killian, you've got to remember who you are. You can remember all you need to do is think. Someone's taken your memories."

"Henry," said Killian, "my name is Dr. Kevin Jones. And if someone put a curse on us, why wouldn't they make you forget as well?"

Henry grinned, "That's what we've got to find out."

Dr. Jones sighed.

"Henry," he said, "this may be hard for you to accept, but it's the truth. You have been in this hospital for the last three years.

"We've talked before," he added, "several times. You've never been lucid, but on occasion we've been awake enough to have a conversation. You kept calling me Hook. I assume that's as in 'Captain Hook'?" Henry nodded, "Let me tell you, I got some grief for that. You construct a beautiful, complex, self-sustaining world and who do I end up as? Prince Charming? Nope. A Wise King? Nope. A great sorcerer? No such luck. I end up as Captain Hook."

"Sorry," said Henry involuntarily.

Dr. Jones laughed.

"This March, we changed your medication, with your mother's – Regina Mills again – with your mother's approval of course. We switched over to a mix of depressants – very low dosage I assure you. It was an experimental procedure, but a low risk one. The intention was to shock you out of your fantasy. We hoped that your fantasy would become…darker somehow. Make you less willing to live in it."

Henry nodded. That did match up.

"On May the tenth we started to see results. You began to wake up…only to slip in again. Still we had achieved a result and tried upping the dosage a little. And…here you are."

Henry said nothing. It made sense. The tenth of May was the day that they'd travelled into Isaac's world, where everything was upside down. And them upping the dosage of his depressants could have been the moment his Mom had chosen to become the Dark One.

But he couldn't accept, not for one second that he was delusional. No, that couldn't be right, it just couldn't.

"Look," said Dr. Jones, "I'm going to go call your moms in Storybrooke, and I'll see if they can make it down to Boston to visit you. In the meantime…hang in there Henry. You're going to be okay."

Dr. Jones opened the door to the white room, closed it, and locked the door behind him. Henry didn't know what to do.

He looked at the white bed against the white padded wall. It looked uninviting. It looked horrifying. He couldn't lie down on that. Henry walked over to the spot he'd woken up in and curled up again.

Henry woke up in his room, in his bed, in Storybrooke to discover his mom watching over him.

"Well hello there sleepyhead," she said smiling, "I thought you'd never wake up."