Michael followed the orderly down the hall to Dr. Lee's office just like he did every weekday morning at 9:55am. Establishing a steady routine for patients was something the hospital took very seriously, and over the past few months, he had actually grown to appreciate it. There were no more sets of facts to get straight, no more alternating days, no more red and green rubber bands; just one simple and familiar schedule that never changed.

He woke up each morning at 7:30am, made his bed, got dressed, and then lined up to have his vitals checked. After that, medications were dispensed, followed by breakfast from 8:30-9:30, and then morning therapy at 10. It was so easy to remember, so effortless, that Michael often wondered how he had ever managed to function any other way.

Once they arrived, the orderly knocked on the office door, and just like always, Dr. Lee answered, but this time, Michael immediately noticed that something was off. The doctor looked apprehensive, diffident; not at all like his assured and methodical self.

"Michael," he said watchfully. "Please come in. Somebody is here to see you."

Michael's mind immediately raced to Hannah, but when he stepped inside the office, he saw that the mystery visitor was most certainly not his wife. It was Detective Vega.

"Hi, Michael," Vega said somberly.

"What is he doing here?" Michael demanded. He could feel his whole body going numb with the memory of being handcuffed on Vega's couch, while he tried in vain to convince everyone around him of his innocence. The man had betrayed him, and although it was true that Vega's actions had ultimately lead to Michael's much needed hospitalization, he still couldn't forgive his old partner for turning him in.

"Detective Vega has something important to discuss with you," Dr. Lee said. "Please, sit down."

"No! No, I don't want to talk to him. You tell him to go away. I have nothing to say to him."

Sensing that Michael might get aggressive, the orderly placed a strong hand on his shoulder as a warning of the things that would come if he didn't calm down.

"Don't touch me!" Michael growled with a cringe.

"Calvin," Dr. Lee said to the orderly, "it's okay, you can leave Mr. Britten here with me. He's going to relax now, and this will all be just fine. Please, don't worry."

The orderly looked doubtful, but complied anyway and left the room.

"Michael, sit down," Dr. Lee obliged. "I think you'll want to hear what Detective Vega has to say."

Not knowing what else to do, Michael obeyed the doctor's command and planted himself on the couch. He suddenly felt embarrassed that Vega was seeing him like this. He was wearing track pants and a wrinkled polo, and hadn't shaved in two days, since he was only allowed to handle a razor under careful supervision. By contrast, Vega looked dapper in a neatly pressed suit and tie. He was basically the poster-boy image for a well-dressed cop.

"Mike, before we get into it, I just wanted to let you know that I'm really sor—"

"Skip it," Michael snarled. "I don't want to hear your apology. Just tell me whatever is you want to tell me so that you can leave."

Vega pursed his lips and nodded.

"All right, then," he said evenly, leaning back in his chair. "Well, here's the thing: I know you were right about Hawkins and Kessel and Captain Harper."

Michael nearly fell off the couch.

"What?" he whispered, almost in dismay. This couldn't be real. It was too good, too perfect. He was imagining this. He had to be. He turned to Dr. Lee with wide, unbelieving eyes.

"Am I actually seeing him? Is this reality?"

"Yes, Michael," the doctor confirmed, "It's real. I asked Detective Vega to look into your claims about Captain Harper. Now, I know that it wasn't the most ethical thing to do, but—"

"You-you believe me?" asked Michael in awe.

"Michael, you've made amazing strides in your treatment these last two months, accepting the truth about Rex and your multiple realities...given that, it didn't make sense to me that you would still harbor such strong delusions about this drug conspiracy in spite of your progress. So I asked Detective Vega to poke around."

Sensing that now was a good time to enter the conversation, Vega tossed a manila envelope on the coffee table next to Michael.

"I've been following Harper for the past couple of days," he said as Michael picked up the envelope. "Those are pictures I took of her meeting with Kessel at a warehouse in Silverlake two days ago. I couldn't get close enough to hear everything they were saying, but they were definitely arguing over some sort of new shipment that needed to be moved. I also got the sense that they used to be sleeping together, because Kessel made a crack about how Harper had always been controlling, even in the sack. But that's not even the most important part." He narrowed his eyes and leaned in towards Michael. "Before Kessel left, Harper told him 'fine, but don't make a mess of everything this time. I don't want another Britten situation.'"

Another Britten Situation.The words hit Michael like a ton of bricks. His son, his life, his happiness; these people had taken everything from him, and now they had diminished him to nothing but a pesky "situation." The room started spinning. Michael heard Vega and Dr. Lee speaking to him, but he barely make out anything they were saying. It was all just whispers and echoes scratching at his skull.

"Michael?" They called out. "Michael, are you all right?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine," he mumbled.

Then everything went black.