It wasn't long before Kate decided to get an MRI for him instead; she'd heard from one of her colleagues that it would probably hold more accurate results than a CT scan, and would be much easier to refer. Indeed, she managed to get an MRI squeezed into a time slot only a week after getting Henry's permission; a CT would have taken weeks if she were lucky. In the time until then, she didn't want to ask many questions without knowing how credible he really was – nor did she want to raise his stress levels by asking for more details of his dreams unnecessarily, thus not allowing the medicine to perform fully by continuing to keep the dreams in the forefront of his mind. So she told him he didn't have to show up for any sessions until the results for the scan came back. She strongly disliked being at a standstill, unable to help a patient in any sense, but there were few alternatives.

She walked down the halls of the unbelievably white hospital, heels echoing to a slightly uneasy degree amidst the usual ambiance of a hospital. The MRI room was separate from the others, to the left. Kate went all the way down the hall before swinging open the admittedly heavy door, a breeze blowing onto her face from the effort. Henry was sitting in the only occupied chair, fidgeting with his hands again. Oh, she loathed it when he did that.

He looked up and over towards the door, surprise on his face after seeing who it was. "D-Doctor Roberts? What are you... Doing here?"

She smiled and sat down in the seat next to him. "This seat isn't taken, right?"

He shook his head slowly, and she crossed her right leg over her left casually. "I'm here for two reasons. One, because I tend to worry when any of my patients pay the hospital a visit. And two, my schedule's wide open until eleven; I try to be as flexible as possible, so my patients end up rescheduling pretty often. Long story short, I figured I would drop by and see how things go," she explained cheerfully, dropping her bag with a THUNK of finality.

"... Oh. Okay."

"Eeyup."

And thus, their popular awkward silence reappeared for a good twenty minutes. The woman behind the counter looked at them every so often, apparently finding the silence almost as unbearably stifling as Kate did.

Finally, Henry himself broke the silence, and she sighed a little with relief as soon as he took a breath to speak.

"... Do a lot of your patients go to hospitals at some point?" he asked. She winced; now she wished he'd kept the silence up.

"Not too many. I mean, occasionally I get patients that have chronic mental conditions, and require constant medical care... But aside from that, it's pretty rare. Well... There was this one teenage boy that went to the hospital under emergency circumstances, but he survived and all that. ...Though I guess there's a first time for everything," she concluded thoughtfully.

She then promptly wanted to kick herself for actually saying that. Why did she even say that? Great, now the silence was even more awkward, and Henry was more nervous than before, resulting in twice as much fidgeting.

Way to go, Kate. That was just brilliant.

"Of course, you're only here for a simple scan. It's more of a precaution than anything, so there's no need to hype yourself up over it."

Henry just nodded, still fidgeting. Kate let out a sigh of defeat and picked up a magazine. "... Hey. Did you know that according to this, if you keep holding your pee in, it could cause serious damage to your prostate – leading to trouble urinating and even erectile dysfunction?" she inquired, reading it straight from the text. Kate bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing at how flustered he became – which, of course, was what she was going for. Even if it caused incredible embarrassment, any distraction was a welcome one for him.

"N-No, I didn't know that."

"Yep. Do you hold your pee in a lot, Henry? ... I'm your psychiatrist, it's a strictly medical question," she added solemnly, a sagely nod following.

"... Not often. Only when I'm... really... busy," he answered slowly, looking just a little bit flushed.

Kate nodded, satisfied. "Same here! ... But I also don't have a prostate, so I have a lot less to lose by such reckless behavior." The nurse behind the glass snorted a laugh, eyes still trained on the computer screen, and Henry seemed incredibly relieved when a woman opened the door to their far left.

"Henry Townshend?" she called, looking at the two as Henry stood up so quick he almost stumbled. Kate couldn't help but let the smile tug freely at her lips once he had gone through the door, picking her magazine back up and shaking her head.

"He makes it so easy."

Henry followed the woman to a dimly-lit room. In the middle of it was an MRI machine, just like the ones in movies, and he gulped despite himself. He wasn't nervous about the test itself – he was more worried about the results.

The more he'd thought about it before the test, the more possible he found it to be that a tumor might have caused the whole thing. But then he would shake his head at the whole theory, knowing those people had died and Eileen had experienced it all with him. And the chances of Eileen having the same tumor and those people just dying mysteriously were slim to null. Surely Doctor Roberts knew that, too, even if he hadn't told her about Eileen yet. She'd assured him this was only a precaution, and the fear he had seen in her eyes as she read over that article about Sullivan's grave… There was no denying he had swayed her "professional opinion".

"Just lay down with your feet facing me, relax, and be as still as possible," she instructed, turning the lights on and shuffling around the room. "Would you like a blanket?" the nurse asked next, and he shook his head as he got situated on the machine's pull-out platform.

"You sure? It gets really cold in here."

"I suppose one wouldn't hurt," he relented, since she seemed to really want him to have a blanket. He was sure many a patient had turned one down, only to call out for one minutes into the test. That thought made him laugh a little as she draped it over him. He couldn't help but want to laugh even more; this whole thing reminded him of his mother when he was little, and he was positive the stress and lack of sleep was more of a likely cause to his uncontrollable urge. Nevertheless, he managed to not openly display his amusement as she also plopped big old-fashioned earphones on his head.

"What radio station?"

"Anything's fine."

"So opera then?"

"... 98.1," he replied after a moment of thought. She nodded.

"This'll only take about forty-five minutes – an hour tops. If I were you, I'd just go to sleep. Everyone else usually does," she threw over her shoulder as she turned off all the lights and left the room.

"Sleep... Not likely," he muttered to himself as the machine pulled him inside only enough for to have his torso and upward in the small compartment. It was like a tube; a small, stuffy, noisy tube. It was a good thing he wasn't claustrophobic. Soon the music started, and his face relaxed a bit more.

This wasn't too bad.

The only tough part was when a song came on that he liked, which happened several times, he had to do his best not to tap out the bass. It was a habit of his that he'd picked up a long time ago, and the best he could do to avoid it now was to sit on his hands. He was just starting to doze off when he heard laughter. It was a deep, rumbling laugh, echoing despite the music blasting through his ears and the occasional beeps and whirs of the machine he was in. What... The hell?

The laugh seemed to get louder and louder, and the longer it continued the more anxious Henry became.

Suddenly, all noises ceased. The machine made a powering-down noise, its whirring slowed, and the radio station became nothing but white noise before going dead altogether. Henry thought about running out of there, but kept reassuring himself that the test was over and the nurse would be back any second to tell him he could leave.

Sure enough, he heard footsteps. He sighed with relief, then suddenly felt afraid all over again. The footsteps were heavy, like boots, and were slow and ominous. He knew someone whose footsteps met all those categories. This wouldn't be the first time in the past few months that Walter had temporarily invaded his reality, but it usually wasn't quite this vivid.

Each thudding footstep made his stomach drop, and the fear that dragged down his spine felt as cold as if a ghost's fingers were gripping him tightly, one by one. He was about to attempt an escape when a pair of actual hands clenched around his ankles, holding him down. Henry squirmed, but was weaker than usual with fear and exhaustion – the medication was starting to lose its effect, leaving him without much of a rested feeling each morning.

Where was his metal pipe when he needed it?

There was a shrill, brief screech of metal against the outside of the machine, and suddenly his right leg from the knee down was engulfed in agonizing pain. It spread up his entire body, white-hot and unbearable.

Henry screamed as Walter continued to cut through his leg; he could feel the blood rushing out of him, a sickening throbbing accompanying the sensation – although actual pain seemed to elude him due to such extensive shock, replaced by a sickening amount of pressure against his calf, and it somehow frightened him even more than if he had experienced further pain. He felt like he was going to pass out any moment as he felt the knife tear through skin and muscle, getting right to the bone with ease.

He wished he'd do more than pass out, he wished he'd just die quickly. There was a malice that accompanied Walter's actions that suggested a quick end was far from the plan, though. Suddenly, there was a sickening snapping sound, and the pressure reached a high point before slipping back down into dull and agonizing. The air was starting to feel heavy, suffocating, the stench of blood and imminent death wafting into the tube. He heard another set of footsteps rush in, and the clack of high heels was unmistakable.

"Henry?" Doctor Roberts practically screeched, the hysteria obvious in her voice. Walter paused in cutting through his other leg, and the air was thick with silence.

"Get out!" Henry shouted with a groan, feeling increasingly faint from the blood loss. He felt absolutely helpless and terrified with his eyes looking at the dark tube of the machine, blind to what was happening in the room. As if hearing his thoughts, Walter yanked the platform out of the tube, grinning down at him. There was a mischief present that seemed far more chilling than the calm logic Sullivan had possessed once before.

"Hello, Henry."

Doctor Roberts was shaking all over, pressed against the door as if it would provide a barrier of some sort, eyes wide with fear. "Wh-What...? Security! Somebody, get help immediately!" she shouted as if suddenly coming to her senses, turning to open the door. Walter was rushing her in an instant, yanking her back by her hair. She fell to the floor so easily, as if she were a life-sized rag doll compared to the seasoned killer above her, looking up at them both in total shock. She sputtered on her own words, and it seemed to amuse Walter – who chuckled and bent over Henry to resume his work.

Henry found himself screaming once more as tears pricked his eyes. He couldn't help it, the pain was like nothing he'd ever felt before – not to mention the added helplessness of involving the shrink in this. Doctor Roberts slowly stood as he occupied himself with Henry, and seeing her inch towards a chair in the room, he tried screaming even louder to keep Walter's focus on torturing him. She got a good grip on the chair before swinging it as hard as she could, clocking Walter in the head.

Unfortunately, all it did was make him stagger backwards, clutching his head and appearing mildly irritated at best. "... Now that was unnecessary," he scolded condescendingly, wagging a finger at her.

Henry noticed he was a lot cockier, as well, than he remembered. Before, he had acted as if murder was an unsightly blemish on his tasks at hand, but now... He seemed to be thoroughly enjoying it. This wasn't like him, and Henry was honestly unsure which was more terrifying.

Doctor Roberts was shaking all over again as he advanced, knife in hand. The most rational brain in the world could hardly fathom the kind of situation she found herself in, and he could practically see the fear paralyze her. "... What're you doing? Run!" Henry snapped suddenly, and she seemed to sharpen back into focus – clambering to her feet and attempting to run out of the room.

Walter, being at least twice her size, caught up to the completely distraught woman, grabbing her by the arm. "Na-ah-ah, Katherine. I wouldn't do that if I were you," he commented, his tone teasing. She struggled, naturally, kicking and screaming for help. All that did was make him annoyed. "Quite the screamer, aren't you?" he inquired simply, yanking her head back by her hair and holding the knife to her throat.

"Walter," Henry called out weakly, breathing heavy and feeling more lightheaded than ever. Walter turned to grin at him, as if sharing some sort of inside joke.

"It's nothing personal, Katherine. Judgment is blind," he remarked simply before dragging the knife across her throat.

Henry watched, horrified, as her scream faded into a frantic gurgle, blood pouring down from her neck. Walter dropped her to the floor, turning back to Henry. The thud her body made was almost sickening, hands still clenching and fingers writhing as if trying to claw her way toward the exit – without making enough progress to even advance an inch.

"I'll finish with you later," he informed the doctor as she slowly became motionless, her blood pooling on the floor at a sickeningly rapid rate. What with all the blood mixing together in the room now, it was starting to smell absolutely horrible – with dread, Henry noted that it smelled just like Room 302 had started to.

Walter bent back over Townshend's leg, settling his knife comfortably into the deep imbedding it had already made as Henry's eyes rolled back. "Now… Where were we? Oh, yes."

Henry woke up screaming uncontrollably, making the nurse scream as well. "Mr. Townshend, are you alright?!" she exclaimed, eyes wide.

He was out of the machine now, and the lights were on. Panting, he glanced down. Both his legs were still intact, but the scent of death and blood still lingered – no doubt for his senses alone. He sighed with relief, nodding quickly as he sat up. "F-Fine. I just had... A bad dream," he replied, making her sigh as well.

"... If you're sure. The scan's over, you… You can leave now," she said slowly, taking the headphones and blanket almost fearfully before retreating from the room. It was unclear which one of them was shaking more noticeably.

As she moved to open the door, Doctor Roberts burst through it, knocking the poor woman in the face with the door. "Ah—!"

THUD.

"Henry, are you alright?" she asked with a hint of the hysteria she'd experienced in the dream, not even taking notice to the girl she'd just sent flying to the floor. He nodded quickly, making her sigh.

"I was having a bad dream," he repeated simply, and she reluctantly nodded in understanding. They both looked down at the middle-aged nurse as she let out a groan, sitting up and holding her face.

"Ah, my nose…!" she cried out, hissing in pain as she removed her hand slowly.

"... Oh. Shit, you're bleeding," Doctor Roberts informed her, bending down to her level. The nurse stood up quickly, making the doctor jump and blink in surprise.

"I'm fine, really… I'm at a hospital, after all. Accidents happen, right?"

"Right! Sorry about that," Dr. Roberts said cheerfully. The nurse left the room, muttering to herself as the doctor walked over to him. Henry could only assume she was eager to leave them both be at this point.

"Careless bitch" was among her stream of comments, and Roberts cringed somewhat as the door slammed behind her. "Whoops. I honestly didn't know she was... Are you sure you're alright?" she asked again, looking him over worriedly before sniffing the air and making a face. "Why does it smell so terrible in here?"

"I'm fine."

Her brows furrowed. "The hell kind of dream were you experiencing?" she wondered, shaking her head as he followed her out of the room.

"I'd rather not talk about it."

"Duly noted, but I'll definitely be asking later."

She didn't persist like she normally would have; it was clear she was almost equally shaken.

As they were leaving the building, Kate watched him carefully. That scream of his had been blood-curdling; it had made her tremble briefly just hearing it. There was no mistaking the sound of a man in unbelievable pain – she'd heard it only on rare occasions, but it wasn't a sound one easily forgot.

"... Henry?"

He jumped, glancing at her. "Yes?"

"Do, uh... Do you want me to drive you home or something? I don't mind, it'll just give me an extra excuse to delay busywork until my next session," she added quickly, genuinely concerned about his well being at this point.

The way he was looking around them, shaken and even more ashen than before… He was in no state to be alone at all, much less drive alone. Not on her watch, anyway.

"I..."

"That sounds like a yes, so I'll take it as one," she commented simply. Henry sighed in defeat, and she smiled halfheartedly in response.

"You don't do well with saying no to people, do you?"

"Mostly just women," he replied, making her laugh despite herself as she opened one of the hospital's main double-doors for him.

Kate had dropped Henry off, taking note of where he lived; an apartment complex not too far from her own – that in itself was surprising, considering how traumatizing his last apartment had been for him. She supposed it was cheaper than a house, though, and he was undoubtedly tight on money. According to the sheet he'd filled out that first day, he was some sort of freelance photographer. Anything freelance usually didn't make much money, unless it was a well-known business.

He'd asked if she wanted to come in, but she declined, saying she was going to go catch a bus back to the hospital and pick up her car. The bus stop was less than a block away from his apartment (she'd passed it on the way there), and she'd take a bus over a subway any day. Just the thought of being underground with total strangers like that... No. Just no. Especially since she'd seen so many horror movies about subways. It all pretty much dictated that subways were only good for bad encounters.

After getting to the hospital and driving home, she had muddled through the remainder of her day as if in a haze – immediately collapsing on her bed upon day's end, not bothering to even remove her shoes. Now, upon waking, she felt even more tired than before as she stretched and sat up.

Kate looked around groggily, trying to locate her alarm clock. She had thrown it somewhere earlier that morning – as per routine. Judging by a haphazard glance outside her window, it was well into the evening hours. She swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood, slipping on a pair of sweatpants.

Kate pulled her hair up into a ponytail as she headed for the kitchen, and she was about to heat up some old Chinese when she realized that in her mental fog of stupidity, she'd left her files sitting on her desk. This was a problem for two main reasons: one, she took them home every day and she was a complete creature of habit, and two, anyone could now read those files – if they hadn't already. Which went completely against the Patient Confidentiality rules, and it would be just her luck that someone very high up saw those and filed a lawsuit on her ass.

"... Ah, hell," she muttered, slamming the fridge shut and grabbing her purse before heading for the door. She dodged the fighting couple – the guy had been holding an ashtray, and as she went down the stairs, she heard the sound of glass shattering against a wall. Kate glanced back, and after seeing the woman unharmed, ran for her car. She glanced up at the sky as she drove off; it was gray, just like it had been for the past week.

Upon arriving, she noticed the parking lot was almost completely deserted; there were only five cars, not counting her own. Kate frowned as she walked inside, punching the elevator button with more force than necessary. It was probably a good thing it was deserted, she didn't need to have someone higher up seeing her in sweats and a Radiohead t-shirt in her office. Sure, she'd spent the whole night in her office before and just slept on the couch, but at least on those occasions she was always in work clothes and had some pocket Febreeze handy.

She flew out of the elevator, digging for her office keys as she walked down the hall, turned two corners, and went to the fifth door on the right. The door slammed against the wall when she opened it, making her jump, and then she sighed in relief as she grabbed her files. "Phew. Damn, Kate, can't just leave this stuff laying around," she muttered, stuffing them in her bag. She was about to zip her bag back up when her scalp tingled. It felt like someone was watching her, and Kate turned around to address whomever it may be.

She didn't see anyone, causing her brows to furrow in perplexity. "... Uh, hello?" she called out. No answer. With a shrug, she zipped her bag up before leaving the office, locking the door behind her. Kate felt a cold sensation dart down her arm, followed by a tug to her sleeve, making her drop her keys in surprise. "Jesus!" she hissed, bending down to pick them up. "You scared the living hell outta m –" she cut herself off upon looking up, seeing it was a little boy.

"... Oh. I mean, uh, heck. You scared the living heck outta me!" she recovered with an anxious laugh, standing back up and smiling. "What're you doing out here by yourself?"

He didn't answer, just looked at her in that same wide-eyed way a lot of young kids do. She looked around the empty hallway, starting to feel uneasy with how dark it was, before looking back at him. "Where's your mo – ..."

He was gone.

Kate looked around, beyond confused now. "What? He was just here! ... Crap," she muttered, knowing she couldn't just let a kid wander around the stupid building with no adult in sight. Damn her and her stupid morals. Damn her soft spot for kids, too. Kate sighed and headed forward, using her cell phone for a light. While she was damning things, damn the dark hallways, they were creepy as hell.

She jumped as she heard a door slam shut, her heart beating a little faster. It's just that kid playing, that's all. ... Although I'm really not in the mood.

"H-Hey, little boy! I'm not gonna hurt you or anything!" she called out, opening doors that were unlocked and peering through the windows of those that weren't. At one point she heard a pair of tiny shoes squeaking against the floor's surface, and she ran after the sound.

"Hey! Come on, seriously, you can't be in here by yourself!" she shouted, turning the corner and letting out a shout of surprise. He was just standing there looking at her, and it was... Kind of creepy. Kate hesitantly inched closer to him, kneeling down to his level. "Hey there. Look, you can't be running around here by yourself. Didn't your mom ever tell you not to run off?"

He shook his head – there was a start. "Do you talk? ... Well, either way, does your mom work here? Or your dad maybe? Where are they?"

She felt a hand on her shoulder, making her scream and jump nearly a foot. She whirled around to see Norm looking just as frightened as she had, hands up in surrender. "Sorry, sorry! ... Miss Roberts, what're you doing here so late?"

"It's not me you should be wondering about, it should be this little guy," she replied with a laugh, pointing to—

"... Hey, where'd he go?" she wondered before sighing exasperatedly. "Great, I've gotta chase him down all over again. Norm, do you mind helping me out? I'm really tired," she muttered. He continued to stare at her, and she sighed again, hands on her hips. "What?"

"... Miss Roberts, we're the only ones up here."

"What? No, you just missed him, there was a little boy –"

"All I saw was you on your knees talking to thin air," he interrupted, shaking his head. "I was up here doing my rounds, and then I saw you running and shouting. There was no one else up here."

The blood drained from her face. Did I just see... A ghost or – or something? No, ghosts don't exist. There's gotta be some kind of logical explanation... Like stress. And exhaustion. And your mind playing tricks on you because you decided letting yourself wander around a dark office building was a noble idea.

"... Sorry for scarin' ya, Norm. I guess I'm just really tired lately," she muttered, rubbing her shoulder uncomfortably.

He smiled and waved her off. "S'okay. Want me to walk you to your car? You look a little upset."

She smiled back, shaking her head. "No, that's alright, I'm fine. Have a good one, alright?"

As soon as she was in the elevator, she frowned and ruffled her hair, taking out her ponytail since half her hair was out of it at that point, anyway.

"… What the hell just happened?"