The next few days were much of the same. Sam would wake up and they would give him meals that consisted of foods that you didn't need a knife or fork to consume and then he would have a "chat" with the doctor. Mostly they touched on subjects like his home life with his daughter, but once in a while they would switch to work issues. Sam knew that she was weaving a complicated rug to get the information she needed, and not get him too suspicious. The fact was, he was very curious and extremely suspicious, but he didn't seem to be capable of stilling his tongue and suspected that they were drugging him somehow. He wanted to know what she continuously wrote in those notebooks that she kept so thoroughly. Most of the time, he felt like a totally different man in this altered new way of living. Nothing felt the same as it had before. He was beginning to actually dream real dreams and that disturbed him to no end.

She was peppering her questions about his life with his career at the moment. "Sam, I believe you said your daughter's name was Sara?"

"Yes." He washed down the last bite of food with a glass of water. He insisted on water, since it was the easiest liquid to determine if it had any drugs in it. There was no way to mask chemicals in water. "She lived with her mother until she was about sixteen."

"It took us a while, but I've come back with some news that you may not accept…at first." She waited until he was seated on the cot across from her again. Since the incident in the main room, Sam wasn't allowed to be in the weekly meetings with the rest of the group. Dr. Keith had taken over the main room and Dr. Zithers had devoted her full time to Sam, only allowing him time to sleep and a few hours of personal time. "I've delved pretty deeply into the files about your family and any possible relatives, but I've never come across anything about a wife or former wife. I can't find a marriage license, a birth certificate, or even a death certificate."

"She changed her name back to her maiden name, when we got divorced. I'm not surprised you didn't find her information." Sam was a bit surprised. Since they should have known about his wife's name reversal, he was slightly confused. "Was that all?"

"No." She consulted her clip board and notes, before looking back to Fisher, with a worried expression that made him fidget, like a kid caught in a lie. "There was a discrepancy in the information about your daughter. I've had my people look all over, but nobody came up with a Sara Fisher in any records file. No birth certificate, no college registration papers…nothing."

"There wouldn't be. Her name was changed into Burns."

"That's your wife's maiden name?"

They should have known that. In fact this entire conversation didn't make sense to him. "Yes. Of coarse."

"Sam, they don't alter names on birth certificates. Her name may have been changed to your wife's maiden name, but there would be some document claiming that you even had a daughter."

"You're a liar." Sam felt anger build up in him, so unlike himself…a volcano ready to erupt. "My wife died of cancer and my daughter came to live with me. I know my life. I'm telling you the truth." He sounded very agitated. "I'm Sam Fisher of the NSA Splinter Cell. I was married to Regan Burns and have a daughter, Sara Burns. I know several languages, including Arabic and Russian. I know martial arts, for Christ's sake! I can prove it." Sam hadn't heard from Lambert and hadn't been able to contact him with his sub dermal implant. Lambert must be wondering what had become of him. "I'll contact my superior. Colonel Irving Lambert?" He tried the implant again. "Lambert." Nothing. Maybe he was asleep? "Lambert, are you awake?" He tried again. Without any response. He didn't even get static. "It must be these walls."

The doctor steadily shook her head. "There is no Lambert, there is no wife, there is no daughter, and no NSA Third Echelon." It was incredible how credible she made herself sound. "Just because someone believes themselves to be Napoleon, doesn't make it so."

In a rush, he stood up. "I know the truth."

"Sam!" Dr. Zithers stood up and backed off, as he came forward. "I…I…I know you feel confused and upset right now…"

"I am far from upset." His breath fanned her cheek, he was so close. Sam backed her up into a corner, his eyes were livid. "I am beyond upset at this juncture." The truth was not here in this place, but she looked and sounded so convincing. He wasn't sure if it was the drugs or her tone that made him want to believe her. It hurt to think that maybe he was really in some make-believe world. "I want to know why you're doing this."

"I'm tired of this, Sam. I'm not doing anything to you, nobody is. We're trying to get you back to reality and you're fighting us the entire way there." She placed her hand on his chest and lightly pushed. "Please back up." Her voice held the slightest quiver, but he heard it.

He did take a step back, but it wasn't enough to get her the leverage she needed to get her back off of the wall. "Are you afraid of me?" He let his anger fall away, like so much melted snow.

"Don't make me call the orderly, Sam." She gained her composure and sidestepped him. Her fingers fiddled with the buttons at her collar. Dr. Zithers was intimidated by him. "Do you think that if you continue down this route that you'll get out of here? You're just digging yourself in deeper. Do you want to end up like the rest of these nuts…strung out on anti-psychotics…a vegetable? Because that's what's going to happen, if you don't…"

"Don't what?" Sam pressed the issue. "You keep asking me about my job at the NSA, but you haven't asked me about the people I work with, or the one's I've met. Why is that? The only one you've really grilled me on is my relationship with Carly."

She couldn't look at him. "I'm supposed to be asking you the questions. Please be seated." The doctor indicated the cot and Sam obliged her. "I shouldn't be telling you this, but I think you should know. Carly was picked up on the street three weeks ago. The police arrested her for prostitution. They couldn't put her in prison after her arraignment, because she was strung out on heroine. The judge had her sent here. She needed help not imprisonment. One might say she fried her brains on smack."

"That can't be possible." Sam shook his head vigorously. "She's a good kid."

"Look at me Sam." Dr. Zithers waited for him to comply. "Do I look like I'm telling a lie?"

"So many people have lied to me and they had a gun pushed to their temple." He looked away. Her face was unbearable to watch. Even with his experience at reading people, she looked truthful.

"What would I have to gain, by telling you lies?"

"I don't know." He spoke to the wall. "Can we talk about something else?" He sounded weary.

"Would you like to take a break and use the rest room now?"

Sam nodded. "I would like to get some real clothes, if that's at all possible."

"We'll see. That's a privilege you have to earn." She stood up and stretched.

"Like Carly's hat?" The doctor's face went blank. "How is a hat linked to prostitution?" Sam's teeth ground. "How is it that my imagination is so detailed?"

"I don't know, but we'll figure it out together and maybe, some day soon…you'll be back to living your own life."

Sam wasn't swayed. "On the outside?"

"Mmm hmmm." The orderly came back in and their conversation ended.