He Never Left- Chapter One: Darryl's Discovery.
"Police." Darryl held up his lieutenant badge, "I'm here to see Morgan Alderman."
The receptionist at San Francisco Memorial nodded and wordlessly turned to the computer to
check for Morgan. When the name popped up, she turned back to Darryl,
"Lieutenant Morris, Miss Alderman is in Room 304a: top of the stairs, first door to the right."
"Thank you."
"Wait." The receptionist said as Darryl turned to leave, "She is sharing a room with another
patient, and he's a little delirious so watch what you say." Darryl nodded once more and headed
towards the lift. He was pretty sure that receptionists were not actually allowed to divulge
information about other patients, but he was still grateful that he was given the heads up.
His thoughts turned to the patient he was going to see. Morgan Alderman was a teenager who
was caught in a bank robbery and was shot in the arm. He hated having to question witnesses
when they have been through so much, but he had no choice. Morgan was the only witness
that wasn't in the intensive care unit. Darryl was so deep in his sorrow for Morgan that he only
barely registered the two gossipy nurses who had also entered the lift.
"Has the man in 304a woken up yet?" one asked
"He never slept," the other replied, "he's just too delirious to get a straight answer out of him."
"It's so weird. He's been here for about a year, and no one knows his name. What are the
chances of finding someone unconscious near the Bay Bridge with no form of ID? Do we at
least have a rough idea what his name is?"
"No. All he does is mutter random words, like 'powerless, source, seer, lawyer, avatar, Phoebe,
Belthazor... none of it has any connection to his condition."
Darryl's head shot up upon hearing the 'random words'. It couldn't be! It's not possible!
Before he could ask any questions, the lift had stopped and the nurses were leaving it. He
walked out too, barely missing an elderly man in a wheelchair. This strange guy is in the same
room as Morgan, so maybe he can set his mind at ease when he goes in there and finds that
he was overreacting. He stepped into 304a,
"Morgan Alderman?" Morgan looked up at Darryl. Her naturally plum hair was still wet from
when the fire had started and the sprinklers went amok as if they had been preparing for this
'performance' for years. There were several bruises over her face and neck. A bandage
covered her gunshot wound on her arm, and it had absorbed a lot of blood.
"Yes?"
"My name is Darryl Morris, I'm a lieutenant for SFPD. I want to ask you a few questions about
what happened today, if that is alright with you?"
"Yes, sure." Darryl sat down and went forward with the interview, making notes as Morgan
spoke. When he was finished, a nurse and a doctor came in.
"Miss Alderman, we're going to transfer you to 401- your brother is being transferred out of
ICU."
"He's okay then?" Morgan asked, her voice thick with relief. The doctor nodded,
"Yes, you two can share a room."
"Thank God- the other patient in here is scaring me."
'Paige. Sorry'
Darryl turned to look at the opposite bed.
"Lieutenant, I'm sorry, but I'm going to have to ask you to leave so we can prepare Morgan for
transference."
Darryl didn't register what the doctor said. He was too shocked by the person who was on the
other bed. The man looked about Darryl's height. His dark hair was in disarray and sweat clung
to his forehead. His strong, muscular arms were constantly twitching, and his hands gripped
the white hospital sheets. Darryl knew him- he had worked with him, argued with him, shared a
mutual respect and distrust with him, and he'd recognise the overwhelming guilt that flew from
this guy in waves.
The only problem is that this man had been dead for nearly a year.
The man in the bed was Cole Turner.
"Police." Darryl held up his lieutenant badge, "I'm here to see Morgan Alderman."
The receptionist at San Francisco Memorial nodded and wordlessly turned to the computer to
check for Morgan. When the name popped up, she turned back to Darryl,
"Lieutenant Morris, Miss Alderman is in Room 304a: top of the stairs, first door to the right."
"Thank you."
"Wait." The receptionist said as Darryl turned to leave, "She is sharing a room with another
patient, and he's a little delirious so watch what you say." Darryl nodded once more and headed
towards the lift. He was pretty sure that receptionists were not actually allowed to divulge
information about other patients, but he was still grateful that he was given the heads up.
His thoughts turned to the patient he was going to see. Morgan Alderman was a teenager who
was caught in a bank robbery and was shot in the arm. He hated having to question witnesses
when they have been through so much, but he had no choice. Morgan was the only witness
that wasn't in the intensive care unit. Darryl was so deep in his sorrow for Morgan that he only
barely registered the two gossipy nurses who had also entered the lift.
"Has the man in 304a woken up yet?" one asked
"He never slept," the other replied, "he's just too delirious to get a straight answer out of him."
"It's so weird. He's been here for about a year, and no one knows his name. What are the
chances of finding someone unconscious near the Bay Bridge with no form of ID? Do we at
least have a rough idea what his name is?"
"No. All he does is mutter random words, like 'powerless, source, seer, lawyer, avatar, Phoebe,
Belthazor... none of it has any connection to his condition."
Darryl's head shot up upon hearing the 'random words'. It couldn't be! It's not possible!
Before he could ask any questions, the lift had stopped and the nurses were leaving it. He
walked out too, barely missing an elderly man in a wheelchair. This strange guy is in the same
room as Morgan, so maybe he can set his mind at ease when he goes in there and finds that
he was overreacting. He stepped into 304a,
"Morgan Alderman?" Morgan looked up at Darryl. Her naturally plum hair was still wet from
when the fire had started and the sprinklers went amok as if they had been preparing for this
'performance' for years. There were several bruises over her face and neck. A bandage
covered her gunshot wound on her arm, and it had absorbed a lot of blood.
"Yes?"
"My name is Darryl Morris, I'm a lieutenant for SFPD. I want to ask you a few questions about
what happened today, if that is alright with you?"
"Yes, sure." Darryl sat down and went forward with the interview, making notes as Morgan
spoke. When he was finished, a nurse and a doctor came in.
"Miss Alderman, we're going to transfer you to 401- your brother is being transferred out of
ICU."
"He's okay then?" Morgan asked, her voice thick with relief. The doctor nodded,
"Yes, you two can share a room."
"Thank God- the other patient in here is scaring me."
'Paige. Sorry'
Darryl turned to look at the opposite bed.
"Lieutenant, I'm sorry, but I'm going to have to ask you to leave so we can prepare Morgan for
transference."
Darryl didn't register what the doctor said. He was too shocked by the person who was on the
other bed. The man looked about Darryl's height. His dark hair was in disarray and sweat clung
to his forehead. His strong, muscular arms were constantly twitching, and his hands gripped
the white hospital sheets. Darryl knew him- he had worked with him, argued with him, shared a
mutual respect and distrust with him, and he'd recognise the overwhelming guilt that flew from
this guy in waves.
The only problem is that this man had been dead for nearly a year.
The man in the bed was Cole Turner.
