The days that followed John's meeting with Martha were much less exciting. His routine was more or less the same and he still hadn't gotten clearance from the director to leave his room. He was beginning to go a bit stir crazy.

It was often that when Jack walked in from traipsing about the ward that he'd find John pacing back and forth across the length of the room. Jack knew that there was nothing he could say that would make John feel better. The only thing that would help him was to get him out of this room.

So, one day Jack went up to John as he was pacing and grabbed him by the shoulders, stopping him in his tracks. "We've got to get you out of here." He said.

"I'm not allowed." John answered, trying to squirm his way out of Jack's grasp.

"I'll sneak you out." Jack suggested. "This isn't healthy, John. You need to get out of here. You can't spend your life in a box of a room."

"I won't be spending my entire life in here." John retorted, knowing that if he was caught sneaking out then it would just add to his problems. "No. Thank you, Jack, but I'm going to wait. Martha promised to help."

"Yeah," Jack said. ", but who's more powerful? Dr. Lumic or Dr. Jones?"

But, in the end, John had been right. A day later, a nurse entered the room. Luckily, John wasn't pacing at that time. The nurse's eyes crawled across the entire room, scrutinizing every detail of it, then they landed on John. They looked him up and down, as if checking to be sure that he was the right person. Then, in a voice that suggested that the nurse really didn't want to tell John this, he said. "I've got a message from the director. He says you are free to leave your room, provided you stay within this wing and are accompanied by another person at all times. Do you understand?"

"Yes. Completely." John said, already standing up. He was eager to leave the room that had become his entire world for so long that he'd lost track of the time.

"Good. I'll be on my way then."

The nurse turned to leave, but John cried out. "Can't I go out with you now?"

The nurse kept walking as if he hadn't heard John. John's face fell. The excitement that had just rushed into him, pushing away weeks (or so he assumed) of the boredom and stagnancy that had invaded his mind, was gone in an instant when he realized that everyone was still going to look at him like he was a savage.

Maybe he was, he started to think, but then he remembered Martha's words. He smiled as he thought of them. He couldn't remember ever hearing someone say something like that to him. He pictured Martha's face in his mind. She was a good person, he knew that, and yet so familiar.

Oh no, he thought, not this again. But he couldn't stop it. Images went rapid fire through his mind. He was with Martha in a hospital… on the moon? Then the scene changed, was that Shakespeare? With another change he saw a futuristic city with many cars and traffic and cat people?

Suddenly, John found himself back in the hospital room, back in real life He was breathing deeply and rapidly, trying to take in as much air as he could. He had no idea why he was short of breath. Sweat was beginning to form on his brow, which he wiped away with his arm. He fell back down onto his bed and tried to catch his breath.

John felt his heartbeat, it was elevated. Once again, for a moment he thought that he heard two hearts beating in his chest. "Stop!" He yelled in anguish. "Please!"

"But we need the Doctor!" A voice cried inside his head, it was Martha's.

"Well I'm not him!" John yelled back. "The Doctor is a dream! I am real!"

Tears were streaming down his face. He couldn't stop them. It felt stupid to cry. There were voices in his head and he was listening to them, acting like what they said meant anything. John held his head in his hands.

"Leave me alone!" He sobbed.

"Well if that's how you feel." Jack's voice said, feigning offense.

"Jack!" John cried and looked up to find the tall, handsome man standing nearly over him.

"Okay. You're going to have to tell me what happened, because I'm lost."

"Nothing." John said, wiping away the tears that clung to his face. "I… I just got the news that I'm free to leave the room."

"That's great." Jack said happily. "Looks like Dr. Jones came through for you after all."

"Yeah, I just have to stay in this wing and have somebody with me at all times."

"Okay, that puts a damper on things just a little bit, but it can be done." Jack said rubbing his hands together in anticipation. "Oh, I'm going to have so much fun with you now."

"How much fun can you have in a mental ward?" John laughed, feeling better now that Jack had returned.

Jack smiled mischievously. "You'd be surprised." Jack took a seat on his bed and grabbed a paper from his nightstand.

John wondered if he should tell Jack what had happened. He felt like Jack would understand. Aside from Martha, Jack was the kindest person John had met during all of this. But there was something holding John back from talking to Jack. Thinking about it, he realized that it was that he really didn't want Jack to think he was crazy. Even if Jack was crazy.

"Jack?" John asked seriously considering telling him.

"There's a therapy session this evening!" Jack exclaimed, jumping to attention excitedly. He was bursting with energy. "Let's get you out of this drab room and out into the world!"

John thought for a moment. "Okay." He said unsurely. He had some reluctance to join a group, primarily, because he was afraid of a relapse. Anything seemed to set him off and even if he didn't become violent, he would still here those voices in his head.

Those were the most painful. They reminded him of a life that he couldn't possibly have. Yet it was trying to assert itself, to ruin the life that he had, one that had actually been looking up. The voices turned him into something that he was not, they made him feel like he was just a story. Not a person. Like the roles were reversed and the Doctor was real and he was the dream. This wasn't true, that's what he kept telling himself that, but he was afraid that one day he might not believe this. That one day he'd fade away and only the Doctor would be left.

As much as he admired the Doctor, he was just a story. He wasn't real and John knew that the Doctor couldn't exist in this world. He may be the Earth's protector, but he could never have a life or a love like John could. John did not want to be the Doctor, but it seemed like he was losing the ability to choose.

"Don't give me that!" Jack cried, pulling John out of bed and up onto unsure feet. "You want to get out of here. I know you do!" He teased.

John couldn't help but smile. "All right." He said his mood improving greatly.

"Okay. Go freshen up or something and we'll head out now." Jack pushed him towards the bathroom.

"Freshen up for a therapy group?" John asked as he fell into the bathroom.

Using the miniscule sink, John washed his face and brushed his teeth. He combed his hair, so that his tangled mass of hair was now back in its signature flop. Coming out of the bathroom, he didn't quite look like a new man, but certainly one that had been rejuvenated.