Author's Note: feel free to smack me with a rolled up newspaper. Yes, I know I'm horrible. No, you don't really need to tell me. My only excuse is that I've possibly gotten in over my head, but sooner or later, I am going to finished. For now, enjoy the chapter.
Mort couldn't sleep. It wasn't so much a reversal from not wanting to sleep; from when he wanted to escape dreams that could by more than dreams and nightmares that might have been memories. Rather it was that this new sleeplessness was a mirror. Now it was his waking thoughts he wanted to elude, dreams and memories be damned.
Yet night after night, he sat sleepless on his bed, eyes staring straight ahead. His mind simply wouldn't shut down. He supposed it didn't help that "The Window" – as he had taken to calling it – was still uncovered. Tantalizing glimpses of starry skies occasionally blotted by cloud did nothing to send sleep either. He was more aware of the hours passing. More hours.
He wondered . . .
It didn't matter what he wondered. It was bad enough that he did wonder without then turning and giving a name to the shapeless, nebulous thoughts that plagued him. He didn't want to know himself that well.
Carly was well aware of her patient's insomnia. If the ward nurse hadn't told her, then the dark bruise-like shadows under his eyes would have given him away.
Not that he's ever slept a lot, Carly often found herself thinking on more than one occasion. But he'd never looked so sickly before. In what she thought was deliberate perversity on his part, he was looking worse now that he was getting sunlight, fresh air, and exercise than he had when they'd first met.
Well, maybe not when we first met, she amended one day as she went over Mort's chart. It was evening and she should be on her way home, but instead she was thinking about the unwashed and wild-haired patient she'd encountered nearly four months ago. But even as disheveled and unhealthy as he'd been from a physical and psychological standpoint, she wasn't sure if he was much healthier now. Sure, he had the illusion of a sun kissed complexion, but his eyes. . . . There was a fierce, nearly oppressive awareness in his eyes. It was an interesting theory, the possibility that Rainey was being smothered by his own mind.
More than ever, Carly wished she had the ability to pull back Mort's skull and peer inside, like a mechanic into a rundown car –
"Dr. Beckham?"
Carly looked up, suddenly aware of how tightly she'd been wrapped in her thoughts. "Yes?"
"Mr. Rainey still isn't eating his vegetables, doctor."
She frowned and looked over the tray the nurse held. "Not even salad?" Her glance told her that the answer was a firm "no." Carly sighed. "I understand not wanting to eat overcooked green beans, not to mention the peas and carrots . . ." The nurse just looked at her. "Oh alright. If he's just not going to eat any vegetables at all, then give him plenty of fruits. We don't want him to get constipated." Oh lord, I sound like my mother.
Fortunately such talk was common in the workplace, so Carly was spared further embarrassment.
The nurse left when she noticed that the doctor was once again absorbed by her thoughts. Carly noticed that the woman nodded a demure "Yes doctor," but otherwise ignored her surroundings as she made a note on Rainey's chart indicating that some dietary supplements should be added to his daily round of pills. As she hung the chart back on its hook by Rainey's door, she glanced in through the window.
As per usual, her patient was sitting on his bed, back to the wall. His blankets were nested around him. When she saw how his eyes were blankly focused on the opposite wall, she sighed. If this didn't let up soon, she was going to add a sleep aid to his regimen. And she didn't want to have to do that. It'd be like admitting defeat, and she wasn't about to let that happen.
It had been a long day. While Carly took part of the blame for that since it'd been her decision to stay so late, it was the spate of meetings that she'd had to attend that took the most out of her. She felt like the organic pulp from an orange that was thrown away after being run through a juicer. And it was only Tuesday.
All the department heads were stressing the importance of the upcoming state review. As if we didn't already know how important all this is for funding and grants, her irritated thoughts groused as she let herself in her front door. It was dark outside, and darker inside. And now I have to cook dinner. The thought was nearly unbearable. But first, I'm going to change my clothes. For the love of god, why didn't I leave a light on this morning?
She emerged from her bedroom some minutes later, Bast following close on her heels. Hitting light switches as she went, Carly made her way into the kitchen. Tonight is definitely a TV dinner night. But to her dismay, the freezer was empty of everything but a few ice cubes and a bag of last year's blackberries. In disgust, she yanked them the frostbitten berries out and threw them into the garbage. Fine, leftovers it is. However, the fridge was just as empty as the freezer. As was the pantry. And the cupboards.
"How did I manage to eat everything without noticing?" she asked sourly as she opened the last can of cat food. She was going to have to get groceries. The thought made her groan. I'll take off early tomorrow and get them. Tonight I'll order pizza.
She cleaned as she waited for her dinner to arrive – lamentably, without a side of Budweiser. For a moment she wished for more company than her cat; an image of Lawley flashed though her mind too quickly too be stopped.
Rolling her eyes, Carly shook her head. "I'm not that desperate."
Yet.
"Don't tempt me," Carly warned as Todd came towards her with a basket of blueberries. "You know I'm allergic but you still try this ever year. You're not going to wear me down. I'm too vain to want to have you come to work while covered with hives and other unsightly splotches."
Todd laughed at her. Carly had designed her little tirade just so he would do that. He was just starting to regain his old humor after Steve's "accident." Carly missed his smiles and good-natured ribbing.
"Carly-girl, you need to start living it up. You don't want to be a dull old woman before your time, do you?"
"I'm not dull. I'm staid. Reliable."
"You live with a cat."
She pretended to look offended. "I fail to see how that relates to anything. What's the point you're trying to make?"
Todd just shook his head. "If you're not going to take any blueberries, then what are you out here for?"
"Who says I didn't come out to visit you, old man?" Carly fell into step beside Todd. It was a sunny day and she'd come prepared with her sunglasses. The grass had been recently mowed, and what clippings had been left behind released a fresh scent into the air. If she'd been a school teacher, she would have been tempted to take her students outside for lessons. As it was, she took pleasure in glancing down at the patient's garden; there were a score of people hunched down between the rows, all of them working industriously.
" – good for you to get outside." Carly forcibly turned her mind back to the conversation at hand. "All that artificial air inside that building isn't good for anyone. Bad for the constitution."
"You're not going to start talking about the importance of moral fiber, are you? Because you're sounding remarkably like my grandfather." Carly faked a shudder. "How are things, Todd?"
The gardener launched into a thorough discussion of rain, wind, cloud, soil conditions, and sun as they strolled across the grounds. Carly could feel her hair heating up from the strength of the sun. It made her pleasantly self-satisfied, as if she was no longer a schoolmarm but a student playing hooky.
"If you hadn't come out for a visit, I would have come to fetch you. You're too pale by far."
"Hmm?" Carly took a moment to process what had just been said to her, and then she laughed. "I may be pale, but I'm not breaking out in freckles either. It's easier to avoid the sun and keep my sin wrinkle-free than to get rid of freckles. Trust me; lemon juice doesn't do diddly-squat. Are you going to lug those around forever, old man?"
"Whippersnapper," Todd muttered under his breath. He called an underling over and issued instructions for their disposal. In this case, they were to be taken to the kitchens to be made into muffins and cobbler.
"Now, what are you really doing here?" Todd asked as they started walking again. "Taking a late lunch?"
Carly smiled ruefully. "No. I thought I'd come down to check on one of my patients." Together they changed their course until they were walking down the gentle slope to where the more practical gardens were plotted. "Have you meet Mr. Rainey?"
Todd shrugged. "Don't know if I'd call it that. The young man you've got helping you made an introduction but I might as well have not been there. Your Mr. Rainey just stared right through me."
Carly wasn't surprised. "Don't worry. He treats everyone that way."
"Even you?" Todd glanced at her slyly. "A pretty young thing like you is unilaterally ignored?"
A laugh escaped her. "As if it matters. Even if that was the reason he noticed me, nothing would come of it. There's rules against that kind of thing."
"But he does notice you."
She shrugged. "I cause too much annoyance for him to not notice me. I'm a force of change in his life. Usually unwanted change. I've started to believe that Mr. Rainey doesn't trust me."
"And why do you say that?"
"Because every now and then I'll turn around and find him watching me like a man watches a rabid bulldog." Her grin turned ruthless. "I'm stubborn enough for it."
"You like your challenges."
"This from the man who –"
"Hey, Doc!"
Carly sighed when Toby interrupted before she could make her point; a point involving the foolishness of combining tropical plants with Maine winters. Unless a gardener took pains, even roses could be an annual at this latitude.
"Hello, Toby. How's our patient?" She glance around without seeing Mort anywhere. "More importantly, where's our patient?"
"Oh, I tried to get him into the vegetable garden, but he just kinda stopped in his tracks."
"Really." Carly frowned and she was no longer the person who wandered outside for the pleasure of it. She was now a doctor challenged with a new facet of an existing problem.
What is it about vegetables that so discomposes him? I suppose it could simply be a quirk, but it's unusual for idiosyncrasies to simply pop up. I'll have to ask about pre-existing precedents for -
"Earth to Dr. Beckham . . . Are you with us, Doc?"
Carly blinked and looked up into Toby's grinning face. "Huh?" Oh, that was intelligent . . .
"Mort? Remember him? You wanted to know where he is?"
"Is he back at the hospital?" Carly supposed she could have missed him. She had been absorbed in her conversation with Todd –
"If you'd been listening the first time I told you, then you would know that I ever so kindly escorted our Mr. Rainey to the rock garden where he's pulling weeds under the benevolent eye of two gardeners and a nurse."
"The rock garden?"
"He wasn't so hot on being around a heap –"
"A heap?"
Toby ignored her, other than to glare at her for her very real amusement. " – a heap of people."
"Well, as long as he's supervised . . . Did you try to talk to him about why he didn't want to work in the vegetable gardens?"
Toby shook his head. "You know how he is. He does the best impression of a brick wall that I've ever seen. Words just bounce off him."
"You just don't try had enough." Although that would be my job, not his. "Alright, where in the rock garden is he?"
"I left him between the birch and the Japanese maple."
"Ha-ha." That included most of the trees in that part of the grounds. "Can you perhaps be a bit more specific?"
"He's near that wishing well. And if he's moved on, just look for a group of suspicious gardeners." Toby stretched and turned around as if to leave.
"Where are you going?" Carly asked idly. "I can handle Rainey on my own, but I do like to have backup. For the moral support."
"You're going to have to do without me. I'm taking my break. I need the caffeine support." He winked. "I'll meet you back inside."
"Alright." Carly waved to him, and to Todd who had moved off to work among the patients tending the flowerbeds. She saw Michael walking away with a wheelbarrow loaded with weeds that were destined for either a burn pile or a compost heap. It was good to see him working, John Deere hat on his head as always.
Shaking her head, Carly forced herself to get back to work.
The path she took was lined on either side with brick pavers, and they continued beside her when grass gave way to shale in shades of grey, tan, and a yellowy-white that was just a bit darker than ivory. A few dozen yards into the rock garden, the path turned to dirt – completely weed free, of course.
As if pleasantly meandered, the path led her past benches and goldfish ponds, gazing balls and stone statues. Except for a few patients – day patients by the look of their clothing – the garden was rather deserted. This wasn't one of the more popular botanical hangouts; those in need of quiet solitude were the only ones who frequented it. Carly could see why a place like this would appeal to Mort.
When she found him, he was right where Toby had said he would be. He was pulling weeds with such single-minded concentration that he didn't notice her approach. Carly dismissed his silent observers with a few nods, and then went to sit on the edge of the wishing well. The water feature wasn't very well named, seeing as how it was nearly seven feet across, but there were a copious amount of coins on the bottom, and not a few buttons, paperclips, and the occasional pebble.
Because his back was to her and because she didn't want to startle him, Carly bided her time until Mort stood to move on to the next tree before addressing him.
"Hello, Mort. It's a beautiful day, isn't it?" Mort just stood by the flowering dogwood he'd been weeding around and watched her. Carly had the passing fancy that he was trying to figure out why she kept trying to initiate conversation with him; as if he was the doctor and she the patient with abnormal behaviors.
"How did you sleep last night?" His gaze slid away guiltily. "Not well, hmm? Well, don't worry. If this insomnia doesn't clear up soon, I'll give you something to help you sleep. Would you like that?" A noncommittal shrug. "If you decide you don't, we'll find another way to help you sleep. Perhaps you just need to work more. Do you like pulling weeds? You did a very good job on this bit." If she thought the praise would get him to relax, she was wrong.
"Do you want to go for a walk? I bet kneeling over like that isn't very comfortable. I know that it would make me stiff." Carly stood. "How about we return those tools to their shed?" She went back to the path. "Are you going to come with me, Mort, or do you want to do something else?"
Rainey bestowed his deer-in-the-headlights look upon her before his brows furrowed and his mouth turned down. Carly tucked away her own surprise at this display and waited to see what he would do next. She wasn't disappointed when he turned on his heel and walked in the opposite direction than the one she'd indicated. She was sure that he meant to communicate a sense of self-righteous indignation, but she had to hide a grin. He looked like Bast when she'd been refused food.
Needless to say, Carly followed after him at a distance.
The reason for her unconcern, she thought as she strolled in Rainey's wake, was that as long as he stayed on the path, Mort would end up back at the center. And this display of self-determination was too intriguing – and encouraging, she'd admit it – to squash. It would be much better to observe.
He led her a merry chase. Though I'm not sure "chase" is the right word, she thought as they once again came in sight of the outpatient wing and Mort once again took a turn that would lead them away from the building. With the word "chase," speed is implied.
"Where are you trying to go, Mort?" she called softly. "Are you looking for something?"
Her voice must have surprised him, because when he turned around, his eyes were wide behind his glasses. Carly glanced at his hands; his knuckles were white.
"I see," she said slowly as she lifted her eyes to his face.
Mort, uncomfortably aware that she probably saw far more than he wanted her to, spun around on his heel and walked away again. Haste made his steps unsteady. Carly watched him go, then continued to follow him. He could run, but it was her job to make sure he didn't get lost. Physically or metaphorically.
Their game continued for another twenty minutes before being interrupted.
"Doctor . . . Dr. Beckham. How . . . how are you today?"
Carly stopped, taking note that Mort stopped as well, though he didn't turn around. "Hello, Michael. I'm doing very well today. How are you? I saw you working earlier." I'll leave him to himself for a bit. See how he reacts.
"I . . . I am happy. It . . . it is sunny today. The . . . the plants like the sun and . . . and so do I."
Carly smiled. "Are the plants as happy as you?"
"I . . . I hope so. They . . . they're growing."
"I now. Todd accosted me with an entire bushel basket of blueberries." It was an exaggeration, but Carly used it anyway.
Michael was unamused. "You . . . you're allergic to blueberries. You . . . you told me. They . . . they make you sick. Mister . . . Mr. Graham shouldn't have done that. It's . . . it's not very nice."
If Carly was surprised that he remembered her allergy, she didn't let it show on her face. She knew ho odd bits of information could be permanently filed away in the brain. For example, she could still remember her high school locker combination. But that was neither here nor there; the very real distress on Michael's face was. If he wasn't reassured, he'd be belligerent towards Todd for the imagined slight, and the head gardener would never know why.
"Michael, I didn't eat any. Mr. Graham was just teasing me. He knows I'm allergic to blueberries. He didn't really want me to eat any."
"He . . . he didn't?"
"No." Carly noticed that Rainey was shuffling his feet. "He was just being funny." It appeared as if he wanted to move, but something was holding him back.
"Oh . . . oh, alright. I . . . I guess that's okay then. I . . . I would be sand if you got sick."
"So would I." Mindful of Mort's agitation, Carly decided to do something that could spur him into action. What kind of action she wasn't sure, but it'd get him to do something. "Michael, would you like to meet one of my patients?" She saw Rainey stiffen, but he didn't walk away as she'd half suspected he would.
"A . . . a patient?" Michael didn't look happy to hear that news, but he didn't make an excuse to leave either.
"Yes," Carly said gently. "Another person I'm trying to help."
"Like . . . like you helped me?"
"Exactly like how I helped you." She noticed that Michael still looked mulish; Rainey on the other hand turned around and stared at them impassively. If he would only raise his chin a bit, he'd be the very image of arrogance. "Mort, would you like to come here and meet Michael? He works in the gardens, so you might run into him now and again." Her tone was light and slightly sweet; the same tone that mothers use to persuade recalcitrant children to cooperate. She might as well have used no inflection at all though, for all the good it did her. Mort didn't move an inch and Michael looked less than welcoming.
Why do I feel like the rope in tug-o-war? As much as she wanted to dismiss Rainey's behavior as normal for him, it wasn't. He usually stared through people, ignoring them entirely. That wasn't what he was doing now. At the moment, he seemed to be staring Michael down. And Michael . . . well, he'd been sweet on her for awhile and was actually responding rather well to this unexpected introduction. Now, if they would just stop looking like two mountain goats preparing to do battle.
"Well." She was going to say something more but wasn't sure what would break the tension in the air. It wouldn't be her best move to make excuses for Rainey, and it would be equally unwise to prompt Michael to say something. And it wasn't in her to make either man back down, simply because she barely understood what was going on.
It was Mort who finally broke the staring contest. His gaze shifted to her, and while it was just as unwavering as the one he'd pinned on Michael, it was . . . gentler. Needier. She didn't understand what he wanted from her until he shifted his feet a few inches, drawing away from the tableau she'd inadvertently set up.
"Are you ready to go, Mort?" she asked, wanting to make him to make some kind of reply. His gradual retreat seemed to be more unconscious than a choice, and if she couldn't get him to use words, then she wanted a hand flap or something. When he glanced over his shoulder and then back at her, when his hand twitched in her direction, she took that as her cue.
"Michael, it's been nice talking to you, but I have to get Mort back to his room now. He's been outside for a long time." Her words had more truth than she'd first suspected; unless she missed her guess, she'd been with Rainey for nearly forty-five minutes. Toby was undoubtedly wondering where they'd gotten to.
Michael frowned, turning to look at her. He hadn't stopped examining Rainey even when she'd first addressed him. "You . . . you don't come visit me anymore."
"That's because you don't need me so much anymore," Carly said carefully, fully aware that Mort's hand had spasmed in her direction again. This time more urgently. "And it's my job to help the people who need me most. You're doing an excellent job with Mr. Graham. He notices too."
Her praise seemed to placate him, but Michael still looked at Mort suspiciously. As if he suspected Carly of liking her current patient over him. She held her breath and wondered if he was going to voice something to that effect, and if he'd get upset, but he didn't. He merely nodded.
"Will . . . will I see you later?"
Carly smiled, trying not to seem as relieved as she was. "As long as I work here, you'll definitely see me around. Good afternoon, Michael."
"Good . . . good afternoon, Dr. Beckham."
Almost before the sentiment had left his mouth, Mort strode forward and grabbed Carly's wrist in one dirt hand. She let him haul her away, although she did dig in her heels a bit to slow him down. It was a sign of how . . . upset . . . he was that he actually initiated contact with her.
She waited until Rainey's grip wasn't so firm before drawing her hand away. Mort glanced at her, but she didn't fall back and tail him like she'd been doing earlier. Carly instead kept up with him, not saying anything until he'd assured himself there'd be no rebellion from her quarter. But when he looked ahead again, she couldn't help but let a small bit of her amusement show. "You're not used to sharing me, are you?"
Mort stopped in the middle of the path and half-gaped at her. She tucked away a secret smile and kept walking.
"You should have seen them," Carly said to Leo as she signed in the next morning. "Seriously, I've never had two men fight over me before. And while I don't think either of them see me as an actual woman, it was still strange. Perhaps stranger because they were getting their dander up over a doctor." She shook her head. "If I had known what was going to happen, I might not have introduced them. But it would have been rude not to and one of the things I'm trying to do is get my patient to remember how to interact with people again."
"You sound frazzled," the secretary observed, her eyes dancing with merriment.
"Yeah, well I woke up later and drank my breakfast. What do you expect?" Carly looked up from her mailbox to find Leona looking at her with a great deal of concern. "What?"
"You drank your breakfast?"
"Coffee, Leo," Carly drawled, sounding irritated. "I didn't have time to make anything so I heated up the coffee from last night. It tasted terrible but the caffeine must have like doubled overnight. I feel like I'm about ready to pop out of my skin."
"Don't bite my head off. I was only making sure."
Carly muttered something that sounded suspiciously like, "You and my mother," but Leo only laughed.
"Fine. I know when I've been insulted. I know when I've been insulted."
"Go sit at your psychiatric booth, Lucy."
"Yeah, with the five cents I'll get from Charlie Brown, maybe I'll get a decent cup of coffee." Carly glanced at the sign-in sheet. "Toby's here already?"
Leo shook her head, but not to disagree. "He got tapped for night duty. He'll be taking off early today."
"Thanks for the warning. I'll see you later."
Letting the matter slide, Carly hurried off for a meeting. She'd been to so many lately that she forgot what it was for, but that didn't keep her from being late. And it didn't keep Dr. Holshack from keeping her after.
"Rough night?" he asked, observing her from his position at the head of the table.
"No. Just long. I stayed up later reviewing some case files."
"Rainey?"
She shook her head. "At first. Some stuff happened yesterday that had me idly looking through journals. But I have other patients to be thinking about too." She rolled her eyes. "I just didn't remember until right before I usually go to bed. Had to burn the midnight oil. I'm not sure how I managed it in grad school."
"Feeling your age?"
"Feeling my caffeine dependency." Carly made a face.
"Happens to the best of us," Holshack agreed before turning the subject back to his first question. "How is Rainey doing?"
Carly raised an eyebrow. "Don't tell me I spend hours writing up reports for nothing."
"Oh, don't worry, I've been reading your reports. But there's things we don't put in reports. Gut feelings, minor suspicions, the wisdom of hindsight."
"My gut feelings say you're on a fishing trip. What is it? Are the suits downtown putting pressure on you?" Carly wasn't in the mood to hear that the DA's office was sticking it's nose in her business.
"No, I'm just chatting with you about a very difficult patient. Most doctors would be floundering by now. Most would be out of their depth."
She laughed. "Don't worry. I'm most definitely out of my depth, but I brought my lifeboat. I'm managing. I'm fumbling at times, but I think I'm doing right by my patient. And that's all that even the best can expect."
"True enough. Although since you've mentioned it, the district attorney does expect a bit more."
"Then the district attorney can come down and try his hand at it himself. And in the meantime, I'll do my job." Carly groaned as she rose from the table. "I need to move around. I think I'll collect the boys and go outside for a bit. I – "
"The boys?"
"Yeah. Rainey and Toby. Anyway, I want to work on Rainey's vegetable avoidance issues."
"Sounds stimulating."
"Actually it sounds a great deal like me talking to myself. But I do try."
Carly took her leave and went up to the second floor. Checking in at the nurse's station, she asked for Toby. However, no one there knew where he was. Sighing, Carly tried paging him but didn't get a reply. Grumbling about young men who turned off their pagers while they napped, Carly continued with her plan, albeit alone.
Her attempts to get Mort to even look at the vegetable garden were a dismal failure. There was only so much she could take of banging her head against the wall, and Rainey was being even less cooperative than usual. She could only assume it had something to do with the day before, but without confirmation, there wasn't much she could do.
Resigned that there wasn't much she was actually going to get accomplished today, she walked Mort to the rock garden and promised to be back for him in a bit. At the very least she was going to work the kinks out of her shoulders, and a walk by the lake sounded very nearly divine.
Leaving the path and all human company behind, Carly made her way to the lake. It was another sunny day and the lake threw mirror-bright reflections back into her eyes. She supposed that was why she at first mistook the splotch she saw as something that had been washed up by the previous night's heavy winds. But as she grew curious and walked closer, her heart stuttered.
That was no mass of water weed.
It was Toby.
And he looked convincingly dead.
She screamed.
Author's Thanks: I have so many thanks for all my loyal readers, reviewers, and the people who nag me into finishing the chapter. Here they are . . . Lynx (Lawley is fun to write, especially when he's pushing the boundaries of Carly's temper. He's a bit of a jerk at times, but only because he's so persistent. He may need to work on that. And I can tell you're getting how I feel about Amy. She cares about Mort, yet she cheated on him. I like playing her both ways. And it hasn't been three months. Almost, but not quite.); Blue Autumn Sky (I try to update faster, but this is a complicated story to write, and I often opt to write a few chapters of my OUATIM fic instead. blushes I'm a lazy writer.); SS (Flowers are fun. I've always been interested in their secret meanings. I like working things like that into my stories. Groused is just too fun to use, especially as a look. Carly is great to write when she's got her hackles up. I'm glad my Mort is still up to snuff. He's a sweetie.); Dawnie-7 (Snoopy dances are fun, especially to watch. With Mort it seems to be one step forward, two back, so we'll see how things proceed from here. I kept wanting him to make some sort of sound, but alas, he didn't want to. And I'm keeping mum about the flowers.); Little Fox (Yipe? I think I'll take that as a compliment and choose to believe that I've made you speechless. Or typeless. Whichever you prefer.); CaptainJackSparrowsGirl (Heh. Depprivation. I funny. :P Well, I did updated a "bit" faster. Hopefully I'll update even faster next time.); KittyKisser (Mort is great. He's fun to tease readers with – in the best possible way of course. :D Thanks for your prodding to get me to update. It did the trick. You can have this chapter. ;P); Savvy TBird (Voices are fun, especially if they force an issue and create action. And action is what makes stories interesting. Something has to be happening.); butterflywings32 (You think therefore I am. I love a badass hallucination. They're great fun. The scene between Amy and Ted in the last chapter was really fun to write. It's logical that he'd be somewhat resentful towards her for dragging her feet, and I love that he can't hide it.); A Cheerful Reader (Ewww…night terrors. And if Carly wasn't interesting, then I'd have to focus on Mort. And he really doesn't say much. :P I'm not sure I'm up to writing a dialogue-less story yet. It'd be fun to try though.); Spoofmaster (eventuating. That's a great word.); Nithke (Was it only last chapter that I did the graphics thing? Wow. That seems like forever ago. I really need to update more often.); Winged Seraph (I hope you're still reading. I tend to lag a bit on this story because I get ideas that don't flow and then I have to tinker with them until they do. It takes time. I hope it's always worth the wait. Mort is fun, and he's really expressive, or at least the Mort that Johnny portrayed is expressive. He makes great faces. And they say that something like 60 0f language is unspoken. It's fun to try to make him talk that way.); tinkthefairy (Crazy boy? Poor Michael. :P Ted is fun. He's fun is a SOB kind of way, but he's fun to write, and he's a nice comparison to Amy.); HumiliatedGrape (How's the stress going? You mentioned it in your last review. I'm glad you're planning to get around to reading PS and Days eventually, but they'll be around for a bit so you don't have to hurry. Hope you like this chapter.); SparrowLover (The window was going to have to enter the story at some point, especially after I took so much trouble to cover it up. But that was rather spectacular, I do agree. I don't know what I was expecting to happen, but that wasn't it.); DeppDRACOmaniac (OCs can be very hard to write. I'll take it as a compliment that you're enjoying mine.); normal human being (You're not really that far behind. Considering how long it takes me to update, you're always ahead of me. ;D I hate it when the internet doesn't work, and you're absolutely right that this fic is coming along slowly. I think I like the idea that this fic is becoming more Stephen Kingish, especially since I've only ever read Secret Garden, Secret Window. And I watched Salem's Lot. But that's the extent of my knowledge on King's work. I prefer the book Mort over the movie Mort, simply because he's more detailed in the book. And it's perfectly alright to find this fic darkly funny.); Rainey-esque (Thank you very much for the compliments. I can only hope the update lag doesn't take away from the fic.); Isabella Pucini (You can call me Psnoo or NeonDaisies. I answer to both. ;) If the last chapter was full of Mort, I hope this chapter had just as much. Sometimes I wonder if I'm not focusing on the other characters too much. I'm very happy that you're finding everything believable, because a lot of this is pulled out of my butt. :D I don't think you have to worry about me neglecting my other fics. Just this one. BTW, your reviews always crack me up.); Arenas (Now's a very nice time for you to review. ;P And if you're sucked into this madness, perhaps you'll update your madness so I can enjoy that. angel look); bells 'n whistles (Substance is very nice, but it takes awhile to write, and that drives me crazy. I'm starting to doubt that Mort intends to actually recover, but I'll see what I can do. I've got subplots? Yay! Go me. No wonder it takes forever to write. laughs); CaptainCass (The long-lost-children plot makes me shudder. Really it does. If he did have long-lost children, they'd be like, eight. And that doesn't make much sense because then they can't move in with him and become either insane writers themselves, or Mort's salvation. And at the beginning, I had to forcibly keep myself from letting Carly become one of those beautiful young women that fall madly and deeply for Mort. That's not what I want to write.);