The ceiling fan lazily circled around and around, slightly tilted to the left. Noah's eyes circled with it until he became dizzy and had to look away. The patient face of his doctor waited for him and Noah blinked slowly, trying to clear the cobwebs of his self-inflicted dizziness. Noah opened his mouth as if to speak, closed it again, mused on just what it was he was replying to, and realized he had entirely forgotten the question. He looked away from his doctor again, this time focusing on a small raindrop that was slithering its way down the window-pane, slowly joining with others of its kind.

"Noah? Are you still with me?"

Noah reluctantly pulled away from the drop's tiring journey and focused back in on his doctor. A kindly-faced man, wrinkles at the eyes, a goatee trimmed at the edges that circled his lips with a moustache, turning from black to white like a greyscale chart. Noah's eyes flickered from the face down to the desk, finally laying to rest on a faux-golden nameplate which read 'Dr. Charles Evans' in etched text.

"Noah."

"Hm?" Noah glanced back up to Doctor Evans. "I'm here. I think."

"That is good. What were you looking at?"

"The fan. And then the window, I guess."

"And what was beyond the window?"

Noah paused and narrowed his eyes, trying to figure out the question. "…Rain?"

Doctor Evans sighed and scribbled something down on a notepad in front of him. "You know to answer my questions to the best of your ability."

"I am," Noah replied, confused. "I do. Sometimes I just like looking at things. You know that. What do you want me to say, that I look beyond the rain and see the crash? I don't. Not anymore."

"Do you still think of the crash?"

"That's a little bit of a weird question. Of course I do. I just don't dwell on it too much. Not really. Usually only at night."

"And what about after the crash?"

Noah shrugged. "Some days I think I'll wake up. Some days I manage to convince myself that this is all real. And then the next day I get up and I realise it might not be. The cycle isn't anything new Doc, really. That's why I'm here, right? Why I have this same conversation with you. Nothing's changed. If it does change, I'll let you know, but nothing has."

Doctor Evans continued to scribble as Noah grew silent, and he found his eyes attaching in on small text inscribed on the doctor's pen: 'To the #1 Psych-Daddy'.

"Nice pen." The scribbling stopped. "Sorry."

Doctor Evans smiled. "My daughter gave it to me last week. I promised her I would give it back once I used up all the ink. Now, Noah, I have been told that you have been talking to Robyn at mealtime?"

"Your little birdies tell you that?"

"Yes. They also told me you looked happy around her."

"I suppose I am. I like her stories. Did you know that she believes that pigeons are robots? Amazing, really. I like the way she tells the stories. She makes me laugh. I don't get much of an opportunity for that much anymore."

"And do you tell her stories?"

"Nah… I got nothing much to tell. I don't want to ruin her fun."

Doctor Evans peered at Noah. "Is that the only reason?"

"I know what you're fishing for. You know I can't hold a conversation very well. It's hard to put the effort into something like that when you don't even know if that conversation is real."

"You speak to me quite well."

"You don't exactly give me the option to be quiet."

"Why not pretend Robyn is like me?"

"I don't think a goatee would suit her."

Doctor Evans let out a genuine smile. Noah enjoyed it when he got genuine reactions out of people, especially the staff. It reminded him that they could be real people. No, that they were real people. It at least helped reaffirm the fact. The doctor put down his pen and stood up. "That is time for now, Noah. Keep listening to Robyn. Talk to her, if you can. Try and experience the moment, and not think of the what ifs. Look at the now."

"You always tell me to look at the now," Noah bemoaned as he stood up as well.

"And I always will. You have a good day, Noah. And I will see you next week." Doctor Evans waved Noah off with a final nod, allowing him to leave the office. Standing outside the door, Noah's expression thinned and he closed his eyes. His weekly conversations with Doctor Evans could be exhausting, whether they lasted an hour or a minute. He appreciated the whole point of the place was to discuss personal problems and if not solve them, at least try to treat them. Doctor Evans might say to not think of the what ifs, but those ifs invaded Noah every day and every night.

"You look dour," a perky voice invaded Noah's thoughts. "Meeting go that bad, huh?"

"Hello," Noah said, eyes still closed.

"So you'll love this. I heard Doctor Evans is really a twin. He switches places every other day so that they can each relax. I've scheduled meetings with him on different days of the week, every week, and noticed certain habits that other days don't have. It must be so creepy having a twin. I'll get him to admit it one of these days. But anyway, just because you keep your eyes shut doesn't mean I'll just magically disappear you know."

Noah opened his eyes and came face to face with the grinning Robyn, eyes bright under her untidy brown hair. In her hands was an old fashioned camcorder with a fold-out screen, about as big as a brick. The screen was completely black but nevertheless Robyn held it up.

"So Noah, tell the audience what they really want to hear. What'd you discuss with the good doctor today? Whichever one he is today, anyway. I've not figured out which days is which twin, y'know?" Robyn followed Noah as he walked down the corridor and while most would find it annoying, Noah actually found it quite nice. She could do enough talking for the both of them and carry a conversation with only herself. It meant Noah didn't have to talk much and that was good for him. "I need to look for the subtle things. Maybe the length of his goatee, or the tint of his eyes. Ooh, or maybe one has an earring and the other one doesn't?! Although I've never seen the doctor with an earring on any of the days I've seen him. Intriguing…"

As Robyn chatted away to herself, camcorder in hand, Noah pushed open the set of double-doors at the end of the corridor to emerge into a large open area of grass, damp from the slow remnants of rain. In the middle of the grass was a triangular sign facing three different directions, all reading:

Welcome to the
Hearthome Psychiatric Hospital

Please enjoy your
Stay

The Hearthome Psychiatric Hospital… Or rather, the Hearthome Asylum, as its residents were prone to call it. A state-of-the-art facility designed like a prison wearing the skin of a college campus. It was nothing like any hospital Noah had seen when he was younger. There were three main buildings – the administrative building, which he and Robyn had just left, where the offices of the staff resided and where residents could have private sessions with the various doctors on site. Across the grassy square opposite the administrative building was the 'Rec-Zone', the nauseatingly-titled recreational area for patients to eat, play, and generally socialize. Of course, there were strict rules in place, and orderlies stationed at every wall and doorway, but despite the childish name, it was a decent enough place to try and find enjoyment in their confinement. The final of the three main buildings was the 'Sleeping Quarters', otherwise known as the dorms by the optimistic patients, otherwise known as the cells by the more pessimistic ones.

The grassy square itself offered a number of benches and tables and it was one of these that Noah sat down on, despite the damp. He had long lost track of Robyn's conversation and leaned on his elbows, staring at the sign. Please enjoy your stay… The phrase just seemed sarcastic in its bold red text. If one were to look in on the outside, they would applaud the 'humane' treatment of both the criminally insane and the mentally challenged patients. The Hearthome Psychiatric Hospital was like no other facility in England, boasting its 'campus-style facility' and high success rate of treatment.

Yet this was only looking in from the outside, from people who stood behind the pure white-washed walls that surrounded the entire grounds of Hearthome. Inside was a completely different story. Sure, it was a great facility, but dominated by orderlies with power trips, a 'throw-away-the-key' approach to offenses, and a general 'play by the rules and you'll be fine' attitude. Problem was, the people of Hearthome were the kind of people who found it extremely hard to 'play by the rules', intentionally or otherwise.

They were nothing more than cattle, who would be zapped by a cattle-prod if they stepped out of line. That's not to say there wasn't any good orderlies or staff around Hearthome, just a tendency of casting a blind eye for fear of repercussions. The Hearthome Hospital was owned by some kind of big-wig organization who needed the facility to look hunky-dory for the outside. People who stepped out of line, or had 'episodes', were generally pumped up full of drugs, locked in their rooms for a week, and forgotten about.

Noah himself had experienced this method of treatment more than once. The drugs had nothing to do with his condition, just a cocktail of chemicals that would dumb you down, knock you out, and make you exhausted so you couldn't physically do anything even if you wanted to.

"…And they say there is a hidden door in the north wall, but I've been there and looked but couldn't see a thing. It's good to have an escape plan anyway, just in case. Noah. Noooah. Noah?" Noah glanced up to Robyn's concerned face. "You're being quiet today. And not the, not speaking kind of quiet, but the not really listening kind of quiet. You usually like listening. What are you thinking about? Ah, I shouldn't ask that. They tell me I should stop asking questions." Robyn's face crumpled slightly and she reached forward, grabbing Noah's wrists. "Do you want me to stop talking? Am I being annoying?"

Noah smiled and gently patted Robyn's wrists. The girl was young enough to be his daughter, and was in fact one of the youngest patients in the asylum. "No. I'm just being rude. My head is in the clouds."

"So it's not me?"

"It's not you."

"Oh good, I was getting worried." Robyn wiped the sweat off her brow. "That's good, that's really good. So I've written down the plan if things were to go awry, and I think we start by recruiting Sullivan, 'cause he's a good…"

Robyn's voice drifted off again and Noah found it replaced with a different voice, from a different time, a voice that pained him to hear yet made him feel relieved. He also worried about forgetting the sound of the voice, and especially who the voice belonged to. Noah's mind was a fracture but there was one constant in his shattered thoughts – Amelia. She was real. Her love was real. What happened to her was real.

"Noah, it'll be okay. I'll be with you every step of the way."

"I'm scared, Amelia."

"I know. But I'm here. You need to do this. You'll never get better otherwise."

"It's just… What if-"

"What if what? If you stay in that house you're going to rot away. I don't mind if you hold onto me. I don't mind being your crutch. It's over, Noah."

"I still see them. I still see what happened-"

"Noah…"

"I still have the list, y'know? I have it in my desk… red lines through the names… I'm disgusted by it but I can't get rid of it."

"Noah."

"I remember Lee the most. The way his eyes widened as he realized what was happening. The sound of his skin tearing, his muscles ripping, his bones cracki—"

"Noah. Stop. You're not in the past. You're here, in the present, with me. So stop and look forward, not backwards. Things will never change if you don't seek that change. I'm with you every step of the way, Noah, I'm with you."

"I… I'm sorry, Amelia. Of course. I know you're here. I appreciate that."

"We'll go slow today. And then tomorrow we'll try again. And again. And again. And we'll keep trying. I'm not saying it's ever going to go back to normal. But it will get better."

"Noah? Um, Noah…" Robyn was suddenly there again, in front of him. "You're crying."

Noah ran his hand across his eyes and found they were indeed wet. He couldn't even blame the rain – it had come to a slow stop. He sniffed and shook his head. "I'm going to go rest my eyes in the dorm. Thanks, Robyn, I mean it." Noah stood and walked across the grassy square, and Robyn to her credit actually left him to his space. He passed under the sign, reading those words again. Yeah right, as if I'm ever going to feel enjoyment again. Maybe he ought to talk about Amelia with Doctor Evans. But not yet.

But when? Seven years, Noah, seven years you've been in this asylum.

Have I? Or am I about to open my eyes and Amelia will be-

That wasn't a Vision, Noah.

We don't know that.

At this rate you'll never leave Hearthome.

And maybe that's a good thing.

You know it's not.

I don't know anything, Noah, that's the whole damn point. Noah shut off his roiling thoughts, disappearing inside the dorms with glistening damp on his cheeks.