A/N: Hello! Thank you to those who are continuing to read and review! I appreciate it immensely! The part at the beginning of this was meant to go on the end of the last chapter, however I just put it here as a part of this chapter instead. That section makes this chapter exceedingly longer than all the others but it is what it is. Enjoy! :)
Purple.
Purple notebook, purple flowers, purple shoes.
Purple lump making a home on the back of Patrick's head.
"Patrick? Patrick, can you hear me?" Dr. Miller leaned closer to the limp man on the ground. She felt a pulse beneath her fingers against the chilled skin on his neck. "Neil? Can I get some extra hands in here please? Get Dr. Johnson as well!" Sophie grabbed a nearby pillow and placed it underneath his head.
"OH MY GOD I KILLED HIM! I KILLED A MAN. It was me! I DID IT! Take me away! Oh my god!" Peter failed to keep his composure.
"No, no. Peter, it's okay. He's not dead. You did not kill hi-"
"I did! LOOK! He's dead! He's dead!" Peter exclaimed in tears on his bed, hyperventilating. "Oh my god what will my mother think! But now I'll tell Patrick that I actually have killed someone and he-I CAN'T TELL HIM BECAUSE HE'S DEAD! OH GOD WHY!"
"Neil, please take Peter out of here." Sophie demanded from the watchman. He nodded and obeyed, leading Peter out of the room and down the hallway.
Dr. Johnson came into the room just in time. "What happened?"
"He hit the back of his head pretty hard on the corner of the wall and fell to the floor. I think he may have injured his head on the floor as well."
The pale man laying on the floor fluttered his eyelids, color slowly filling his complexion.
"Patrick? Patrick?" Sophie worriedly watching while waiting for him to come to. A few exasperated sighs came from the limp man as his eyes opened slightly revealing the bright white light to his tired eyes.
"Patrick, can you hear me?"
The blonde man nodded, his countenance one of confusion.
"Stay still, Patrick." Dr. Johnson explained. "Just lay there for a moment and gather yourself. You took a heavy fall."
He nodded once more, continuing to look around in confusion. Patrick brought a hand to where he had come in contact with the corner of the wall.
"Oh, thank the lord!" Peter quickly appeared in the doorway. Neil attempted to hold him back, but failed. "Pat! Pat! I didn't mean to almost kill you, I promise! I'm so sorry, man. I promise I'll always share my Twinkies with you and never make another joke or touch you ever again!"
"Neil," Sophie began, "Please keep Peter out of here."
Neil nodded obediently and began wrangling the chubby man. "No! That's my roommate! C'mon you gotta let me in there!" Peter yelled for the majority of the trip down the hall.
"Patrick? How does your head feel?"
"It hurts." Patrick spoke up, holding a prominent hand on the back of his head as he sat up. He continued to look around the room in confusion.
Sophie brought a hand to his shoulder to steady him. "Are you alright, Patrick?"
He nodded. "Where's Angela?"
The color in Sophie's face slowly drained at the question.
"Where's my wife?"
Sophie ignored the question momentarily. "Do you know who I am, Patrick?"
"You are...you're a doctor. I assume my doctor. You care far too much more about me than a medical doctor so... psychiatrist." He turned to Dr. Johnson. "You are the medical doctor here. However, your names escape me. Can one of you please find my wife?"
"Let's get you to the clinic for a quick evaluation and then..." Dr. Johnson looked to Sophie as he spoke. "...then we'll find your wife."
"Last night Patrick Jane fell and hit his head in his room." Sophie spoke to Neil and Dr. Travis. "We've found that this hit has caused him to suffer slight memory loss and a set back. As far as how back, we aren't sure yet. However we are assuming since he was asking where his wife and child were that it has been set to before the tragedy of their deaths. We're asking that you try not to trigger these memories or force them upon him. It would be best that he remember these things on his own."
"So basically don't talk about the fact that they're dead?" Neil added.
"Yes, Neil. At least from the three of us. Unfortunately we have no control over the other patients and what they say or do around him that may or may not trigger the memories. But we need to try to the best of our ability to let those come to him on his own."
Dr. Travis and Neil nodded in agreement.
"We've got group shortly, Dr. Miller. Am I okay to get myself there?"
"Of course, Dr. Travis. Just wanted to have that brief conversation with you two since we three are the three majorly in charge of Patrick's care."
"I understand, Dr. Miller. If there's any progression in his behavior be sure to let me know. Excuse me." Dr. Travis lead himself down the hallway towards his daily therapy room.
Neil glanced through the small window in the door to Patrick's room, observing the blonde man laying on his bed. "Is he going to be okay, doc?"
"We think so," Sophie replied. "Like I said, just some minor memory loss. It's common when people hit their head with that kind of a force."
"Yeah, I'd say a fat guy running and tackling you is a big force."
Sophie shot Neil a look of disapproval. "Go find Peter and make sure he's at group. I'll be talking with Patrick if you need anything."
Neil nodded and went on his way.
Sophie slowly opened the door and made her way into the room, shutting the door behind her. She quietly made her way past the resting man to sit herself on Peter's bed.
Patrick's eyes slowly came to an open, noticing the woman sitting across from him. He jumped slightly at the sight of the unknown visitor, his chest rising and falling violently with the heavy breaths. "You frightened me."
The corner of Sophie's lips rose slightly. "Sorry." She examined Patrick before returning her eye contact. "How are you feeling?"
Patrick shrugged. "Fine, I suppose." He adjusted his blankets slightly and brought a hand to his head to rub his temples. "Slight headache but nothing my wife's piano playing can't fix."
Sophie sighed at the mention of his wife.
"Where is she? Why can't I see her?"
"Patrick," the brunette psychiatrist began, "Do you remember why you're here?"
The young blonde man looked down at the tile flooring for a few moments before shaking his head. "No, I... I'm sorry. I don't remember."
"That's okay. Don't worry about it."
"Why can't I remember?"
"You hit your head pretty hard when you fell and, as a result, you're suffering from amnesia. Usually there will be a few things that will trigger these memories to come back within a reasonable amount of time."
Patrick nodded, gripping his hands on the edge of the mattress beneath him.
"What's the last thing you remember?"
Patrick clasped his hands in his lap. "I...ah... I remember seeing a...a white light."
"White light?"
"Yes," Patrick nodded. "A white light and there were...there were many people reaching out to me, smiling down at me and there was one, specifically a...a man..." Patrick looked up at Sophie. "Your father."
Sophie was taken aback. "My...My father?"
"Dr. Miller, I believe he's trying to contact you right now."
Sophie sighed, realizing what he was trying to pull. "Patrick, this isn't really the time for a psychic reading."
"No, no. I know but these things just happen, Doctor Miller. It's nothing under my control. He says that he loves you and..." Patrick looked down, keeping his hand on his temple. "...and to say hello to your mother for him. He says he will always be watching over you." He looked up, smiling at Sophie.
She inhaled and spoke upon her exhale. "Thank you, Patrick, but-"
"Impressive, huh?" Patrick eyed her with confidence.
The brunette female had to try her best to keep herself from laughing. "I know your games."
"What games? Did that sound like a game to you, Doctor Miller?"
"Considering my father is still alive, yes."
Patrick froze and swallowed before clearing his throat. "I...ah...It's a common mistake. Grandfather maybe?"
"No, Patrick." Sophie laughed. "What is the last thing you remember doing before you woke up?"
"I had just finished with a client and was on my way to a television interview."
"Is that all you remember?"
Patrick nodded, confidently. "Yes. Red John had just murdered a woman and they were going to interview me about-"
Sharply, Patrick refrained to continue.
"...about?" Sophie prodded.
"...about ah...him. Serial killers in general as well and..."
"...and?"
Patrick shook his head. "Ah..and nothing. That was it. That's all I remember."
Sophie nodded and wrote a few things down on her clipboard. "Okay. I am going to let you be to rest for a little bit. If you need anything, feel free to come find Neil or myself, okay?"
"Neil?" Patrick had barely been interacting with the watchman.
"He's your watch nurse," Sophie explained. "He'll probably be in here in a little bit."
Patrick nodded.
"Feel free to look around a bit to sort of 're-discover' yourself. We want you to get those memories back on your own."
"Doctor, wouldn't it be much more efficient if you just told me what I'm missing out on? I'm sure it can't be much."
"It's healthier if you discover them on your own." Sophie stated, noticing the orange notebook sitting on his nightstand. She rose and began to help herself out of the room. "I'll be back in a little bit."
"Doctor Miller?"
Sophie turned back around. "Yes?"
"Could you please tell me where my wife and daughter are? I'd have thought they'd be here by now."
Sophie drew a blank. She knew she couldn't tell him the truth. "They...well, you see they..."
"Wait," Patrick glanced at the clock that was next to the orange notebook on their bedstand. "Wait, I...No. I know where they are."
"You do?"
"Yes. It's nearing one o'clock and Charlotte had a dental appointment at twelve thirty today."
"They should be here sometime later then. I'll come check on you in a bit." Dr. Miller quickly removed herself from the room, firmly shutting the door behind her and breathing a sigh of relief.
Patrick explored the room to the best of his ability. No personal belongings except an orange journal. Patrick opened the journal, revealing the letters he'd written to Angela and Charlotte. They must not visit often if I'm having to write letters to them...How long have I been here? He scanned each and every letter, words ranging from 'I miss you, Angie' to 'I'm so sorry, Charlotte'. Confusion filled the blonde man's mind, the reality of the situation failing to click.
Why am I so sorry? I could understand missing them, but sorry? For what?
"He...He's telling me that he loves you very much. He keeps repeating the phrase, 'It's not your fault. It's not your fault.'"
"I'm so sorry, Lucas." Lisa spoke hoarsely midst her prominent tears. A few other patients were standing around the duo as Patrick proceeded.
"He wants you to know it is okay. He says heaven is the most beautiful place he has ever seen. He is always watching over you and will never leave you." Patrick gripped his hands tighter with the sobbing woman in the chair across from him. "He says you need to stop blaming yourself for his death. It wasn't your fault."
"But I was the one who let him play outside by the road." Lisa replied. "I was the one who wasn't keeping a decent watch to see the cars coming."
"He says it was all in God's plan." Patrick continued. "Lucas wants you to know you need to let go and move on and that he loves you very, very much."
"I love you so much, Lucas!" Lisa's sobs continued as she leaned forward to hug Patrick. He took the embrace as the patients around put their hands on her back, cried, and reacted in their own worlds to this happening. Peter stood with wide eyes, astonished at his roommates talent.
"There, there. It's okay." Patrick soothed the woman. "Lisa, do you have family outside of this hospital?"
Lisa nodded beneath his embrace. "Yes. My husband and a few other family members."
"Tell you what, Lisa. I'll let you take this one for free but give this number to your husband. Say that I can connect him with his passed son." Patrick broke the embrace to write down his work number with the crayons on a nearby table. "Here. Tell him to call any time and we'll discuss a session."
Lisa nodded, taking the paper and quickly hugging Patrick again. "Thank you, Patrick. Thank you."
"Don't mention it." He broke the embrace again, smiled at her, then proceeded to get up and walk to the other side of the Common Room. Peter quickly approached him.
"Dude! How do you do that?!"
"Do what?" Patrick retorted, scanning the room for other takers.
"Do that whole, like, 'Your son says he loves you and I'm talking to him right now!' deal? You can seriously talk to dead people?!"
Patrick nodded, unamused by the chubby man. "Yeah. Sure can."
"Okay you SERIOUSLY need to teach me how to do that!" Peter exclaimed excitedly. "Because that is SO AWESOME!"
"Shhh..." Patrick raised a hand to the chubby man. "I need to think."
Peter patiently waited beside the man, curious as to what was going on in his brain at this very moment. "Whatcha-"
"Grah..." Patrick, frustrated, plopped down in a nearby chair. "This is no fun." When it's not for money, that is. Only fun when it's for money...
"Whaddaya mean it's no fun? I think reuniting people with their dead ones would be pretty fun to me! Hey! Do you see 'em too?"
"No, I don't see them. That'd make me crazy." Patrick replied quickly before thinking about his words.
Peter ignored the statement. "Okay what if...what if we do this! What if I point to someone and you tell me what they're like, okay? I know these people backwards and forwards so I'll know if you get them wrong."
"What's on the line?"
Peter thought about it for a moment. "I'll give you half of my lunch for a week."
Patrick considered the offer. "Hmm... add in three twinkies and you've got a deal."
"Dude, three?!"
"Hey, that's my offer!"
"What if I win?"
"Ha! You won't."
Peter crinkled his face with frustration. "Fine. But if I DO, you owe me your hash browns and bacon at breakfast and dessert at dinner for a week."
Patrick extended his hand to the chubby man. "You've got yourself a deal."
"Alright! Let's see..." Peter scanned the room. "Him! That's Marvin. Go."
Patrick carefully studied Marvin for a while. "Marvin. He's 45. Looks a lot older because of stress and life. He used to fight in the war and when he came home he found out his wife was cheating on him. Then he attempted suicide and that's why he's in here. He's shaky, uncertain, and not very confident in himself."
Peter stared at Patrick with wide eyes, not saying a word.
"Am I right or am I right?" Patrick inquired.
"How...How'd you know all that?" Peter, still in shock, found it very hard to believe.
"His physicality put him at a younger age, however he has the war look. Y'know, where they've seen a lot and been through a lot. But he couldn't have been over 50 or under 40 so 45. Veterans are usually in a place like this because of post traumatic stress disorder or because of attempted suicide. He has a mark on his finger where his wedding ring used to be and seemed to have been toughened by the war and not shaken by it. His stance and posture are shaky and slouched which leads to being uncertain and not confident."
"Holy cow. You were right on the dot."
Patrick smiled at Peter before turning his eyes back to the room. "Next."
"There." Peter pointed at the young girl holding her knees to her chest beside the window. "Summer."
"Summer..." Patrick took the moments needed to evaluate her and began his description soon after. "She is 19 years old. Very rough home life. Her father either beat her or raped her or both and her mother never said a word. This caused her to have low self worth which spiraled to depression and cutting or another form of self-harm. She's in here for a suicide attempt."
"HA! Wrong!" Peter exclaimed.
"What? What do you mean?"
"She's not in here for a suicide attempt! She's here because she tried to kill her parents. Wrong!"
Patrick started into the eyes of the obnoxious roommate. "You're lying."
Peter stood there for a moment, keeping eye contact with the man. "Am not!" He fidgeted nervously.
"Yes. You're lying."
Peter fidgeted a little more before giving in. "Man, you're good."
The blonde man smiled once more. "Alright, one last one."
"Patrick?" Sophie called from the other side of the room.
"That woman again?" Patrick spoke under his breath.
"Hey, at least you got the nice one." Peter added. "Dr. Moore isn't very nice sometimes..."
"Patrick, can you come here please?" the brunette doctor persisted.
"She treats me like I'm a three legged dog." Patrick sighed as he made his way across the room, leaving Peter laughing at his remark.
"It's time for our nightly session."
"We have to meet at night too?" Patrick sighed. "Seriously, where is my wife? She should be here by now and then I won't have to meet with you again."
"Hey! Turn it up!" Lana hollered across the Common Room to Toby who was running the television. "It's that Red John guy again!"
Patrick's head quickly snapped toward the television as it spoke.
"The state wide serial killer Red John is at it again."
Serial Killer. Red John.
Red John.
"Toby, please turn that off! We don't need to be listening to that." Sophie toward at Patrick with concern. "Patrick? Are you okay?"
Patrick's eyes remained on the television's now black screen. He didn't respond.
"Patrick?"
He turned his head back to the psychiatrist. "Yeah?"
"Are you alright?"
He paused. "Yeah. Yes. Yes, I'm...I'm fine."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes!" he raised his voice slightly, but took consideration of it. "Yes, I'm fine. Now, just leave me be. Please."
Patrick made his way back to Peter who was still sitting in his spot from across the room.
No. No. Don't remember.
I don't want to remember.