Hey all, thanks to everyone who reviewed! To LHC1, I think it made sense and all I can say is you will just have to wait and see! Emerald1998, slashygeek, larasmith (you gave me a lot to think about for sure!), arthurgwent2010 and guest, thank you all for your comments, it really was awesome to see those all! From now on I won't publicly respond to each comment, but I thought I would this time because it meant so much to me! Enjoy, and I will try to post every Sunday!

-muggletribute-

After the third time of the needle in his neck, Arthur was more careful about waking up and how he reacted. His eyes opened and he moved slowly, carefully turning his head toward the doorway where they always seemed to hurtle through as he woke up.

Arthur listened carefully before expelling the air he had been holding in. He couldn't hear any footsteps toward him; in fact, it was probably the quietest it had been while he had been awake. Where the hell am I? What sorcery has Morgana done to make this happen?

Arthur had never seen a place like this. All the white was unnerving, and he didn't know what or who these 'doctors' were. Were they Morgana's new idea of torture? The doctors didn't seem intent on hurting him, yet, other than the damn needle they stuck in him every time he tried to leave. Obviously it wasn't just some bloody sewing needle.

That was about all Arthur had learned about this place so far. He decided to use the quiet to figure out what he could—from his last three attempts, Arthur knew there wasn't much point in trying to escape, especially without knowing anything about his surroundings.

A window above him on the left wall had a clear barrier in it, only visible by the frame that surrounded it and the occasional smudge on the surface. Outside there wasn't much he could see, a bit of blue sky, something that looked almost like a castle turret but more rectangular, and the sun seemed to be rising.

So, it's early morning, Arthur deduced. How long have I been here? Do they have anyone else? He hoped Guenivere had been kept safe; Merlin may be useless as a manservant, but as a warlock he could at least keep Gwen, and hopefully all the others, safe. It was only too bad he wasn't here to save Arthur, as he had so many times before. When magic was involved, it was good to have him around.

Arthur looked towards the door. It was open, and through it he could see a long hallways. There was bright torchlight, but he couldn't see any torches on the walls. The walls were that same bright white, and there were doors like his opening down the hall.

Next he looked at the room he was in. There was a lot of devices that he had never seen before – something that looked like a coat hanger but had containers of liquid hanging on it instead, with tubes coming out of them and attaching to his wrist.

There was some object hanging on the wall that had, writing on it, and two little pointers that didn't seem to move, as well as one tiny pointer that moved. Arthur counted. It moved every second, and he was surprised as one minute later one of the longer hands clicked forward.

So it keeps track of time, Arthur thought. Well that was convenient, but Arthur only had to look at the sky to know the time. There was a small, tall table with something silver in it, a basin or tub of some kind. And above it, what looked like cupboards. Arthur wondered if there would be anything helpful in there, but as he thought that footsteps towards him made Arthur look back at the door.

The man, Dr. Kerrington, he had said his name was, was standing there.

"Well, good morning Ad-um…sir! How are you feeling?" Arthur stared at his hands suspiciously.

"No needle?" Dr. Kerrington shook his head.

"No need for that, I think." He drew a stool out from under the table. "I'd just like to talk. Assess what it is you know about what you are doing here, how much you know."

Arthur relaxed a little, but he was very confused. It didn't make sense, this wasn't Morgana's style. Maybe she had drugged him and left him somewhere where he couldn't stop her? That seemed most reasonable for now, so he decided to not hold it against the doctor.

"Well…sure. What do you want to know." Arthur sat up, folding his arms against his chest protectively.

The doctor beamed in a way that reminded Arthur of Merlin. It made him homesick. "Well, sir, I'd like to ask some questions first. For example, I would like you to read this card." He held out a card with scribbles on it, but looking at it just gave Arthur a headache.

"No, I can't. It isn't a language I know. Well," Arthur looked closer. "Actually, it looks a bit like my language. I can read some of it, though the words are spelled different." He read a couple of the words, and as he did he noticed he could read more than he had thought at first. "Wait a second, if your written language is different, why can I understand you? I mean, you sound a bit different, and uneducated, but I can understand you."

"What is your language, Arthur? I believe I have an idea…we must just have…" the doctor thought for a second before finishing, "a related language." It seemed the best way to tell his patient that he was speaking in an accent that a psychiatrist had traced to both Old English and Middle English.

"I'm speaking English of course," Arthur replied to the question with pride. The man should have known that, everyone knew King Arthur and his Knights spoke English. "Don't you know who I am?" Arthur spoke the question with a little bit of worry in his voice, and the doctor softened.

"I do, sir. You, well, you believe you are King Arthur, one of the legendary rulers of England."

Legendary, well…legendary was new. But Arthur could deal with that. It was the "believe" in the response that had him more upset. Before he could respond though, the doctor kept up his questions.

He asked Arthur basic questions that seemed to test his hearing, sight, and knowledge (or lack of, as he seemed to know nothing the man asked) on certain subjects. Kerrington seemed to grow more and more disturbed throughout the progression.

"Well, Arthur. You did very well." Arthur disagreed, and knew the doctor did too. "I'm going to leave this book with you, I want you to study it." He dropped a book on the table and left. Arthur picked it up. From the pictures, it looked like a…a children's book. But, Arthur could not see the harm. Wherever he was, he needed to understand this language. Slowly he began to piece his way through the book, trying to understand their odd systems of language, and before he knew it, he had already memorized their alphabet and had moved onto small words.

Dr. Kerrington watched from the room next to his in frustration. "He seems to grasp the language quick enough, so he's not incapable of relearning all his lost skills. Will that transfer to memory? I don't know." The other man in the room stayed quiet, letting Kerrington talk. He was dressed in a dark suit, contrasting spectacularly with the rest of the hospital.

His dark hair and pale skin had always unnerved the doctor a bit, but he was always friendly when he visited so Dr. Kerrington rarely even noticed his appearance anymore. He had been the patient's therapist before the…event had occurred, and had been called the moment Adam had woken up.

"What do you think, Dr. Emerson? Will he recover?" Dr. Kerrington waited for the response.

The therapist was still watching Adam. Finally he cleared his throat. "I think the question needs to be, does he want to recover?"