Hopefully this chapter's length makes up for the delay. And I will continue to not own anything.

Here's a nice semi-eventful lead in chapter for all of you. As always reviews are appreciated. Enjoy.

Awakening the following morning, Henry washed and dressed into a set of fresh clothes. He stood before the door collecting the nerve to test it and the composure to withstand its being locked. Taking in a deep breath he turned the knob, it opened easily. He let out a soft laugh of relief as he walked through the door with a false but comforting sense of freedom. Making his way down the empty hall to the convalescence room, he made himself comfortable in a chair. He enjoyed the silence, and prefered this room to the memories inspired by prolonged residence in the grey halls and rooms.

Ruth saw from her desk as he entered the lounge and settled into an armchair. He was a curious man, she didn't quite know what to make of him. There didn't seem to be anything obvious or life-impairing, aside from some unresolved issues with locked doors, wrong with him. She was tempted to to look at the file to find out, something about it had always seemed an invasion of privacy especially in his case. In order to keep herself from doing just that she figured she might simply go and talk with the man.

"Ahh, Ruth." He said, noticing her approach. "I'd been meaning to talk to you. It's about Greg." She sat down in a nearby chair. Resting his elbows on his knees he leaned forward. "Earlier you said that he doesn't talk. Then yesterday when I asked you said he'd hadn't spoken since his being taken into custody; the implication was that he was scared speechless, to use the vernacular. In my medical opinion-." She opened her mouth to speak but he addressed what she was about to say anyway. "I am of course a medical examiner and do not have a licence to practice medicine, and even I did it would have been revoked at the very least temporarily at my entrance here; but I was at one time a physician. In my medical opinion it's not that he doesn't talk, it's that he can't. I found that his vocal cords had been torn, the damage was extensive. It coincides with something with jagged edges, or perhaps thorns, being forced down his throat, I can only assume by one of his parents."

"My God, the poor boy!" She brought a hand to her mouth, in horror at the thought of Greg's childhood suffering.

"It's awful to think of, that a parent could do that to their own child." Henry had seen the work of abusive parents on the living and the dead and it never ceased to anger him, after becoming a father he couldn't imagine how people were capable of it. They sat in silence for a few long moments, taking in this information. "If you could pass this on, their doctors will have to confirm it of course, but it's not a symptom of his PTSD."

"Yeah. I'll tell Dr. Jacobson." She stood back up. "I have to do the morning call. Thank you for doing this for Greg."

"I didn't do anything."

"You took an interest, that's enough."

Less than an hour later, some of the patients began slowly filing into the Greg entered he came over Henry and handed him the book he had shown interest in the night before. "Thank you, Greg." Greg tapped on the cover, over where the title 'Casino Royale' was written in large colorful print. Henry opened the cover and found that Abigail's photo had been placed there. He smiled at the young man's gesture. "Thank you."

Greg took a seat nearby and continued reading Jane Eyre; Henry turned to the first page and began reading, perhaps he would find out what Abe had so enjoyed about them.

In an alley three people surrounded a body. "Finally, a murder. I was beginning to forget what it felt like to work." Hanson said looking down at the disemboweled man on the pavement.

"So Lucas what do we have?" Jo asked the former assistant ME, who crouched examining the body. The newly and unhappily promoted young man did not respond, but continued to inspect the victim. "Lucas?" She asked again expectantly. Once again he ignored her.

"Lucas." Hanson called.

"Yes, Detective Hanson?"

"Mind telling us what happened to the victim?"

"Of course. This man bled to death, obviously. The cut in his abdomen was caused by a blade slashed twice in a X." Lucas explained, acting out the likely motion of the killer. "The blade didn't penetrate very far, so I would say it's a short blade maybe like a paring knife. But I'll know for sure after the autopsy."

"Time of death?" Jo asked.

"When did he die?" Hanson repeated when Lucas didn't answer her.

"Right, yeah.. usually that comes first. Sorry. Umm… rigor mortis has begun and affected the face and neck muscles so three hours ago.

"Ok. Thanks, Lucas. The van's here and you can take the body back to the morgue."

"I should stay, you know, make sure I didn't miss anything."

"You did good, kid."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Henry'd be real proud of you." Lucas gave the older man a sad and grateful smile.

"Thanks Lucas." Jo offered to the ME as he accompanied the body to the van. He responded only with a glare and silence. When Lucas had departed she turned to Hanson, disheartened. "Everyone hates me don't they?"

"Not everyone." She gave him a doubtful look. "I don't, Lieu hasn't displayed any opinion yet. Of course Lucas is mad at you, you sent his boss and greatest idol to the looney-bin. And now he has the responsibility of Henry's job and is just trying to fit into his shoes. The uncertainties of his role model being crazy probably aren't helping. So I'd say he has good reason, the poor kid."

"You're so comforting." She replied with crabby sarcasm. "Come on let's go."

At the morgue Lucas faced his first solo murder autopsy with a definite feeling of inadequacy. His hand shook slightly holding the scalpel. Henry's leather tool kit rested closed nearby, as a sense of familiarity, but he hadn't been able to use them himself. Likewise Lucas had set up his office desk, as new chief medical examiner, on a extra autopsy table, unable to move Henry's stuff out of the office and replace it with his own. With a steadying breath he braced himself and made the first incision.

After the autopsy and the completed report was delivered to Detective Hanson, Lucas took his lunch break. He was running late on his return; as he ran into the morgue he half expected some comment regarding his 'comic books' from a disappointed Henry, but none came. The young man was suddenly struck by how much he missed his eccentric boss. Looking through the glass walls into the untouched office he decided that the few remaining bodies could wait alittle longer. Lucas went downtown to Bellevue with a purpose which disintegrated to a feeling that he shouldn't have come when he entered the large building and faced the receptionist. There was no turning back now, despite his worry that Henry might not want to see him. "Hi."

"Hello. What can I do for you?"

"I'd like to visit Henry Morgan."

"Psych-ward, Third floor."

Exiting the elevator onto the third floor he found another reception desk. "I'm here to visit-"

"Hold on." The man at the desk interrupted, he got up from his seat and opened a nearby door. "We've got another visitor, Ruth." Then turning back to Lucas he pointed at the woman coming in behind him. "Tell her who you're here for."

"Come on in, dear." The woman, the friendliest employee Lucas had yet come across here, said as she ushered him into the access hall. "Who are you visiting?"

"Henry Morgan."

"Are you a friend of his?" She asked, it struck her that he didn't seem to have many.

"I'm not sure, actually. I was his assistant at the OCME."

"I'm sure he'll be happy to see you." She assured opening the door to a large room occupied by a number of people. "He's over here." She guided Lucas over to a chair. Lightly placing a hand on Henry's shoulder to get his attention she introduced him. "Henry, you have another visitor. You must be popular."

Henry looked confused as he turned further around to see who it could possible be. "Lucas?"

"Hi Hen- uhh… Dr. Morgan." Lucas stammered in greeting, as he came around to Henry's front.

"Lucas you can call me Henry." He assured, straightening and placing his book aside.

"Really?" Lucas asked growing excited by this outright permission to use the man's first name.

Henry nodded fondly. "Has Dr. Washington taken over the OCME?"

"No. I'm currently chief medical examiner."

"Lucas, congratulations! I'm sure you're doing wonderfully."

Lucas bowed his head to hide the blush he felt rising. "Thanks." This vote of confidence meant more to the young man than he could describe. "How are you, I mean are you ok?"

"Yes, I'm quite alright. It's not nearly so bad here as the rumors say."

"Henry… why are you here?"Lucas tentatively asked the question that had been nagging at him since he had watched as Henry was dragged away from the morgue.

Henry hadn't expected the question, though he probably should have, and didn't have a satisfactory answer. "I suppose the after-effects of unforeseen events, and some ill-timed misplaced trust."

It wasn't exactly the comforting definitive answer he'd wanted but it was enough. "I should be getting back."

"Yes, you're in charge now, and there's nobody more deserving of the position."

Lucas smiled gratefully at the man he still very much considered his boss."Bye."

"Good bye." Henry watched Lucas leave.

The hours passed and as according to plan, he managed another day of saving his medication. He knew that soon he would be called into his next therapy session, he therefore knew what was coming when Ruth next approached him. "Anne's ready for you. Remember what we discussed, no not talking." He nodded his consent. Then walked down the hall to the room he had been led to the day prior.

Entering he noted the presence of two books by Ivan Pavlov on her desk. So to divert the conversation he began, immediately upon taking his seat, reciting from memory 'Conditioned Reflexes and Psychiatry - Lectures on Conditioned Reflexes' by Pavlov. For the entire hour long therapy session he continued without stop in his quoting, not allowing her to ask a single question. By the end of the session Anne's expression had gone from confusion, to awe, to annoyance, and ended somewhere between fury and boredom.

Later that evening, as Ruth watched over the lounge from her desk, she was addressed by Dr. Jacobson. "That information about Greg Masterson, you got it from Henry Morgan?"

"Yes, Doctor. It was correct wasn't it?"

"Yes it was. How is he doing, Morgan that is?"

"Very much as he was when he arrived: calm, solitary, and quiet. Greg has become rather attached to him, actually."

"No change at all? The medication should be taking some effect by now. Have you read the man's file yet, Ruth?" He was aware of, though he didn't quite understand, her reluctance to read the patients' files.

"No, not yet. Is there some particular reason I should?"

"It's an interesting case, certainly."

"I'll make myself familiar with it when I need to."

Shaking his head at the kindly, and in as many ways untraditional as traditional, nurse's habits he made his departure. "Good night, then."

The room was nearly empty but for the few evening stragglers, so she took a bit of a walk around the lounge before she sent them to their rooms. She noticed that of the two reading, one was not reading but gazing at the inside cover of the book. She came over, drawn by curiosity, behind Henry and looking over his shoulder saw a picture of a smiling young woman. "Who is she?"

Henry jumped in surprise at the sound of her voice behind him. "My late wife."

Immediately she felt rather guilty for intruding. "She was beautiful."

"Yes, she was." He agreed, smiling reminiscently.

"How did she die?"

"In a car accident." This was the easiest answer he could give, the it was less involved and certainly less painful to recall than the whole truth of Abigail's death.

"My sympathies." She checked the time on her wristwatch and went to make her evening announcement, not hearing his quiet thanks.