And now the chapter where the something happens. Please tell me what you think.

Oh, and I still don't own anything.


Morning broke and began much as the one before it. As he sat he once again was joined by Ruth. "Can I join you?"

"Absolutely." She sat in the chair she had used on their last morning conversation. "I never thanked you for keeping the door open."

"No thanks needed, I said I would and I did. Beside, it's my job to make sure you all are comfortable."

"Is that what this is, humoring me with the sensation of normality?"

"No."

"If this is social, then, do you happen to have any tea? I've been three days without a drop and I believe I'm entering withdrawal." He said jokingly.

"I don't, sorry. Maybe tomorrow. So you're from England, I assume?"

"I grew up in London."

"And your wife, was she English too?"

"Yes. We met while traveling the continent." It was a mild but apt and reasonable way of saying that they'd met during World War Two.

"How long were you married?"

"For-four years."

She took his stumble as the effects of emotion, rather than the slip of the tongue that it was. "I'm sorry, it must be hard to talk about."

"It's quite alright. But that's enough about me. What about you? You're very kind, and very good at your job."

"I started out in the pediatric ward at a hospital, but after a while I couldn't take watching such little children be so sick and get worse. So I got this line of work, it's a similar job description."

"Are you married?"

"Yes, for almost forty years now. We've got three grandchildren to spoil."

"How old are they?"

"Nine, five, and three."

"They're wonderful at that age." Henry mused, negligently not watching his words.

"Did you and your wife have children?"

"No, we didn't." He was thankful for her wording of the question, for something made him hate to lie to this woman who had been so kind to him.

"You're a strange man, Henry. I overheard your friend's question yesterday. Why are you here?"

"You have my file. I was dragged from my place of work and brought here." He said as his way of saying he didn't know. He had an idea of course, a strong one, but what his condition had been deemed he was unsure of.

"It's a beautiful morning." She said looking out the window. "I think it's time we share it with everyone else." She stood up and, as she did everyday, went to wake up everyone.

The day passed duly, with little excitement. That is until after lunch when the queue at the medication window formed. Ruth was surprised when Dr. Jacobson entered her office to watch over the proceedings. "Doctor Jacobson, this is unexpected."

"Just following up on an inkling, Ruth. That's all." The doctor watched closely as each patient approached and departed from the window, waiting for one man in particular to take his turn. Henry stepped up to the counter and accepted his little cup of medication, medication that he placed in his mouth and held there faking a swallow until he could turn away. The watchful doctor saw him subtly dispose of the pills. "Gotcha! I really do hate the clever ones." Jacobson began leaving the room to address the two orderlies on hand.

"What are you talking about?" Ruth asked, standing herself.

"Dr. Morgan has not been taking his medication. I began to suspect when you said he had remained just as he was when he arrived." Then motioning to the orderlies he continued into the lounge behind them. "Let's see what we can do about that."

Henry looked up at the sound of footsteps moving toward him. He saw two of the orderlies, followed by the psychiatrist from his first day, as they came ever closer. The large men in white moved to flank him on both sides and the doctor faced him. "Dr. Morgan, please come with us." Henry conceded, a feeling of foreboding rested in his stomach as he followed the doctor into the hall. "The jig is up." He announced once the door was shut and the four people were alone.

"I'm afraid I haven't the slightest idea what you're talking about." Henry soon regretted the cheek in his response.

"Oh I think you do. I suppose you planned on using those to kill yourself, what you thought would be a handy escape route. Or do you just not want to take it? We can arrange other methods." From his pocket, Jacobson extracted a syringe of clear liquid.

"What's in that?" Henry asked fearfully, looking warily at the hypodermic.

"The same that's in the pills you should've been taking, but a little more potent. Now the question is are you going to cooperate and be good like everyone else?"

Henry set his jaw, closing his mouth defiantly. He stared the man down, determined to stand his ground. But when Jacobson came closer, unsheathing the needle from its plastic cover, Henry tried to back away. His instinctive retreat was stopped by the arms of the men still on either side of him. He fought against their holds, his current predicament far too reminiscent of times past for him to remain calm. Panic took over, fueling his futile resistance.

His struggles weakened when he felt a sharp prick in his neck. His vision began to go dark around the edges and he felt very light headed. Through his darkening window of vision he saw the heart racing sight of Dr. Jacobson readying the needle for his arm. He felt another pinch of a needle before everything around him went dark.

Ruth heard shuffling outside her door, as it escalated and slowed, when she opened the door to see what had happened she found Dr. Jacobson standing near an unconscious Henry held nearly upright by the two orderlies. "Take him to his room." She directed the men holding the limp man. "What was that?" She asked accusingly of the doctor still holding a syringe.

"He resisted medication, by injection since he refused oral, so we had him sedated."

"Was that whole thing really necessary?"

"It's not your place to question me Ruth, you're a nurse. I think it's time you take a look at that man's file."

She walked back into her office, fuming from the short confrontation with the doctor. She'd been given a lot of grief by the almighty doctors, but it never ceases to frustrate her. Sitting down she saw the newest patient on her desk, that of Henry Morgan. Still mad at the doctor she opened it anyway. What she read there, paranoid and delusional schizophrenia who thought he was immortal, made so little sense with what she knew of the man.

The next day, much later than usual for Henry, Ruth sat next to his bed. He was mumbling, a sign that the sedative-induced sleep was coming to an end. She had prepared some tea in her office and sat in wait with a mug full for him. Gradually his eyes opened and he reentered the world.

"Is that tea I smell?" He asked, somewhat groggily, slowly sitting up.

"Yeah." She said, handing the warm cup to him.

He accepted it. Taking a sip he took in the smell of the steam. It was then that the two noticed that his hand was shaking. She took the cup back to keep it from spilling. His hand had stopped shaking but Henry stared at it with a frightened look in his eyes.

"I have to give you this." She said holding out another syringe for him to see. He recoiled slightly, the little he could from his position. "It's on Dr. Jacobson's orders. There's no sedative, just the medication."

He tentatively offered his arm to her. She gave him a reassuring smile, before beginning to tie a strip of rubber. "He fancies that he's the ruler and this is his domain, doesn't he?"

She gave an affirmative noise, the plastic needle cap between her teeth.

"I hate doctor's like that, don't you?"