Chapter 4 is up, FINALLY! I'm really sorry for the wait, I wasn't very motivated to write this week. :P

OVER 200 VIEWS! THANK YOU GUYS!

THANKS SOO MUCH TO Nindragon FOR FOLLOWING!

EVEN BIGGER THANKS TO skatergirl94 FOR FAVORITING!

AND THE LARGEST THANKS TO LilyCaroline17 and Slickangel97 FOR FOLLOWING AND FAVORITING!

ENJOY!

P.S. Nurse Ratched is the nurse that is always in the basement.


"Henry," Nurse Ratched said. "What a pleasant surprise. But why do you need to see Isaac?"

Henry paused, realizing he hadn't come up with an excuse as to why he would be here. Crap. "I-uh-Mom forgot she had a question to ask him, so she sent me down to, ya know, ask him." Yeah, that works.

Nurse Ratched stared at him for a moment, then turned around a grabbed a key off of one of the hooks behind her. "Alright." She started to briskly walk down the hall. "Follow me."

Henry followed after her, looking at the names on each of the doors. L. Caroline, G. Skater, J. Ban, S. Angel, G. Heroine. Huh, some odd names, he mused. Though who am I to talk? I'm named after 2 dead guys and a building. Henry's musing was cut short when Nurse Ratched stopped at a door marked I. Heller. "Here we are. You know, I don't think he has had any visitors before."

"Shocking." Henry replied, as he watched her unlock the door. He held his breath as she gripped the door handle. With a twist and pull of her wrist, the door swung open, revealing the room and the occupant inside it.

Swallowing his fear, Henry strode into the dimly lit room. "Hello, Isaac." Isaac looked away from his typewriter to see who had spoken. "We need to talk." Henry turned to speak to Nurse Ratched. "Thank you. I'm good from here."

"Knock when you are done." She replied. Henry and Isaac watched as Nurse Ratched closed the door, then turned to look at each other again.

"So, Henry," Isaac said, his resentment for the teen evident. "What brings you to my humble abode?"

Henry looked at the door to make sure they were alone. "I, uh, need your help."

"My help." Isaac repeated slowly. "Why not ask one of your mothers?"

"Because I don't think they can help."

"And why... Oh." A smile started to spread across Isaac's face as he realized. "It's started, hasn't it. The visions?"

Henry sighed, realizing Isaac knew. He sat down on the thin bed, nodding his head. "Can you help?"

"Well, I can't really answer that unless I know what happened, now can I?"

"I guess not." Henry replied. Isaac looked at him pointedly. "Oh, you mean now?"

Isaac rolled his eyes. "Yes, now."

Henry took a deep breath and began. "Ok. It started a few days ago..."


Thirty minutes later, Henry finished recounting his story. He looked up at Isaac, who was staring at him thoughtfully. "So?"

"So what?"

Henry looked down at his hands. "What's happening to me?"

Isaac lightly laughed. "Isn't that obvious?"

Henry sighed, getting irritated with Isaac. "Why is it happening?"

"Well, Henry, I don't know." Isaac proceeded to look around his prison. "I mean it's so hard to think in this... dreary room."

Henry groaned, guessing what he was getting at. "What do you want?"

"I want out of here, for good."

"Not a chance."

"Alright, well good luck with your problem." Isaac turned back to his typewriter.

Henry scoffed. "I knew it was a mistake coming here." He grabbed his bag and walked to the door, raising his hand to knock.

"Wait."

Henry turned around to look at Isaac. "What?"

Isaac grimaced. "I... might... know what's going on."

A smile flickered on Henry's face, but he quickly masked it with a frown. "Ok, spill."

"It's your Author powers growing, which you might have guessed."

"I thought the Author powers were just for recording-"

"You didn't let me finish." Isaac sighed, then continued. "Yes, the Author powers are for recording, but for some Author's it goes beyond that. How do Author's record stories?" Henry shrugged his shoulders. Isaac rolled his eyes. "The pen. We use the pen. But how do you know what to write?"

"I don't know." Henry thought about it for a moment. "I just kind of know what to write, I guess."

Isaac sighed again. "Didn't Merlin or the Apprentice tell you anything before they died?"

Henry shrugged his shoulders. "Nothing." Then his head shot up. "How did you learn about that?" He asked.

"That weird, creepy mop guy? Bit of a gossip."

"Huh. Never would have guessed."

"Yep. Anyway, there are three ways an Author knows what to write. One, the pen decides what it wants to record, and then proceeds to record it. By your hand of course."

"Wait." Henry interrupted him. "You're saying whenever I'm... compelled to write... It's the pen?"

"Yes, now stop interrupting me. Two, you witness the occurring event, and record it later on. And the last one is-"

"Visions." Henry finished.

"You really like interrupting, don't you? But yes, it's visions. It's a rare Author power, one I thankfully was not given."

"Why don't you want it?"

"Because that power has... complications." Isaac replied. Henry cocked his head, and Isaac continued. "For some Author's, the visions are great. They learned how to use the power, and could control what they see and when they want to see it. Granted, visions would sneak in from time to time, but it wasn't bad. But for others it's, for lack of a better word, a curse."

"How is it a curse?" Henry asked, starting to worry.

"Because some Authors couldn't control the power. Instead of them ruling the power, the power ruled them. At first, the visions were simple, a few every once in a while. But then the visions came more frequently. At first, it would be one every few weeks, then every few days, then every few hours, until they are stuck in an endless stream of visions until the day they die. Their power is their demise."

Henry stared at Isaac, mouth hanging open. "So..." Henry said, rising from his stupor. "How do you know which one it will be? I mean, is there like a sign or something? Will I just wake up one day and have complete control or what?"

"Not exactly. For some, control was easy. Don't ask, I don't know how they did it." Isaac replied, seeing Henry was about to ask. "For others, it was harder, but they managed it. But in the end, every Author had an... experience of sorts that determined their fate."

"What kind of experience?" Henry asked.

"I don't really know. I'm telling you all I can, but considering it never happened to me, I'm limited in my knowledge."

"How do you know so much?" Henry inquired.

"The Apprentice told me the history of Authors when I first became one."

"Oh, ok." Henry said. He was quiet for a moment before he continued. "So... can you help me? Even though I can't really repay you?"

"I don't-" A smile spread across Isaac's face. "Actually, yes. I will help you."

Henry's face lit up, then turned to a skeptical look. "Really?"

"Yes, Henry, I will. I'm not bad."

"Debatable."

"Not helping."

"Sorry. So how can you help?"

Isaac thought for a moment. "What's in your bag?"

Henry looked at him weirdly. "My bag?" Isaac nodded his head. "Uh, I don't know, let me check." Henry grabbed his bag, shook the contents onto the bed, and started to rifle through it. "Let's see. My phone, the Storybook, a knife-"

"Why do you have a knife?"

"There is literally a villain all of the time in Storybrooke, and half of them kidnap me. Need I go further?"

"Makes sense." Isaac said. "Continue."

"Ok. Phone, Storybook, knife, Mom's calculator-"

Isaac put up his hand. "Stop." He got up and stood beside the bed. "Are you sure that's your Mom's calculator?" He asked. Henry nodded his head. "Good." He picked up the calculator, and looked at it for a moment. what is he-?

Everything went dark as Isaac thrust the calculator at Henry's chest, smiling as he crumpled to the ground. Setting the calculator down on the bed and grabbing his metal chair, Isaac stepped over Henry's unconscious form and knocked on the door.

"You took your time, Hen-" Nurse Ratched was cut short as the chair collided with her head.

"Sorry, ma'am." Isaac said, setting the chair down. "But it's time for me to go." Stepping around her body, Isaac ran up the stairs and out of the hospital.


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