Though her last conversation with McCrimmon unsettled her, she managed to calm him, telling him that she was sure it was nothing – probably just some movie or television show that he'd seen before. He gave her a look as if to say, "You're an idiot," but accepted her attempt at an explanation without any verbal comment. Since it was already late and the only remaining test was a blood draw, Martha escorted her patient to his room. When she left him to find a phlebotomist, he was ignoring his roommate and looking through his drawings. For that reason, she was shocked when she returned and the man had his roommate, a rather stout individual, up against the wall and was yelling at him.
"I might not remember much, but I know what you are, and I won't let you take over the world."
"What are you talking about?! I'm just a hockey coach. What's wrong with you?"
"It'll be okay, Mr. Trotz." Martha said to the distraught coach, "Mr. McCrimmon is just a little confused right now."
"He's not a hockey or whatever coach," McCrimmon said loudly and dismissively, not noticing that he was attracting a crowd, "He's a potato head… thingy. He tried to kill you and your boyfriend Ricky. But, I saved you both. You didn't see me. I was dying and it was my reward. "
Martha found herself once again reevaluating her opinion of the man. He wasn't just grumpy or confused, but was highly delusional. Why couldn't she see earlier that he was fixating on her? Stupid, stupid, stupid. Maybe she could salvage the situation, and distract the man long enough so that one of her coworkers could sedate him. Time to put on a show…
"It was you?!" Martha feigned surprise. "Thank you. Ricky and I didn't know who to thank. I'm glad that you're not dying anymore." Martha stopped, not sure that was the right thing to say.
"Yes, but I DID die. There was pain and a lot of light, and everything was exploding. And then, there was singing and a girl. No, the girl was before - OW!"
As the seemingly delirious man was absorbed in his story, another doctor snuck into the room and injected a sedative. McCrimmon looked at Martha as though she had hurt him badly, and she supposed that in a way she had. However, she knew that at this point, he had to calm down in order to ensure everyone's safety. She hoped that he would be okay, but as she helped the other doctors place McCrimmon on the bed, she had a feeling that she wouldn't get a chance to help or even see the man again.