I tried not to radiate suspicion. He gave me a gently penetrating look in return.
    "Like I said, it's common and perfectly understandable. Also, if you're up for it, your parents will be here for a visit tomorrow."
    Instant nausea. "Thanks."
    "May I ask you a quick question?"
    "Of course, doctor."
    "Was there someone similar to me in your dreamscape?"
    "Yes."
    He nodded. "You'll probably see a lot of those correspondences. It's not uncommon. I certainly hope that I was not an obtrusive or annoying figure?"
    "No, no. You were... quite helpful, actually."
    He smiled. "I hope that I can be that way in real life, as well."
    "Can I ask... how you were injured?"
    "I was hit by a car, several years ago."
    "I'm sorry."
    "It's not that bad, I have a limp. I've certainly seen far worse."
    "True."
    "Have you had any other flashes of variant ability?"
    I shook my head.
    "Would you please let us know immediately if you do? It's very important," he stressed, "given the changes to your psychological makeup."
    I nodded. I'd have given the arm up for good in exchange for five minutes with my powers just then. He got up and seemed about to go, then turned back.
    "Sasha? I'm not the enemy." His voice was very gentle.
    I gave him a steady look. "I know."
    "Those things would be more believable if your eyes said them as well." He limped off.
    The afternoon wore on. I managed to put an unobtrusive kink in the IV drip line. If they were drugging me that way, maybe I could slow down the flow enough for my hyperactive metabolism to get me a clear space. I stared at the wall and tried to hang onto my certainty. Reilly came back.
    "Steamed vegetables," he smiled. "Ask and ye shall receive."
    "The benefits of private care."
    "We try and do what we can."
    "Who says our health care system sucks."
    "See you tomorrow."
    "Who's paying for all this?" it occurred to me to ask. "I didn't have any insurance."
    "Your parents are taking care of it."
    On what? I nearly asked. There's no way in hell they could afford someplace like this. One small piece that didn't fit, which made me feel a little bit better.
    Night fell.

[Perspective switch: Everyone Else]

    I saw the door open and Jessica enter, causing a faint, reflexive tightening in my breathing. An orange-and-silver shadow came out from behind her, triple-chopped her in the neck and caught her and the tray on the way down.
    "I'd clap if I didn't have a broken arm." Actually, I nearly cried for sheer relief. He unhooked the IV and told me to get on his back. I couldn't stand up, and I only had one arm to hang on with, so he wound up tying me there. We waited a few moments; alarms began going off, then we headed down the hall. Scott spread out to provide cover as we neared the elevator. Two chemically-enhanced types in orderlies' clothes were standing in the elevator when the doors opened. They looked surprised, then spread out to flank us. Mirrors flashed, blinding them. It sounded like a real battle was going on above us; Lucky, I presumed.
    Scott went solid in midstrike and went through the floor of the elevator, dropping one of them into the shaft. The other one had a bare fingerhold at the edge of the gap. Someone was behind us, I tried to tell Phoenix—
    "Miss Banks?"
    I fell and hit the floor of my room. The orderly was standing in the door with a tray of pills.
    "What are you doing trying to get up?" she scolded, lifted me bodily back into bed. I looked around the room wildly. What the hell had just happened? "Are you all right?"
    "I'm fine," I lied shakily.
    "You shouldn't get out of bed."
    "Sorry. Must have been having a dream."
    "Okay. Why don't you just stay here, take this and drink that." I pretended to swallow the pill she gave me while she straightened out the IV setup. "Just stay in bed," she advised on the way out. I spit the pill onto the floor and rekinked the IV.
    There I was in bed again, shaking a little as the reaction hit me to what had just happened, although I wasn't sure what had happened. Apparently a hallucination, if a very real one. Stands to reason I would dream about being rescued under these circumstances.
    It was very real. I wondered for the first time if I might be going crazy.*

    I'd like to take this moment to make something clear: I hate these people, and I don't feel guilty about it anymore. It was an insidiously easy way to get to me, predisposed as I am to doubting the evidence of my senses, even aware (or thinking I was aware) of what level technology and effort they were prepared to put into this sort of thing for verisimilitude.
    My world has no solid edges. Even now as I write, the thought is there was perhaps this, too, is unreal. For all I know, I'll wake up there tomorrow and be informed that I've had a relapse. I have no doubt they could do it, no doubt that they would.

    My gaze kept drifting to the silver chair, looking vaguely like Scott in the dim light. Eventually, despite myself, I fell asleep, woke to see Reilly pushing in his usual cart.
    "Good morning! Hear you had a little mishap last night."
    "Nothing I won't survive. Fell out of bed."
    "That's too bad. Gotta be careful. You said you didn't like the bacon so we went with extra toast, is that all right?"
    "Great."
    "Anything else you need...?" He paused and leaned over. "What's this doing on the floor?"
    "I don't know, what is it?"
    "Your pill."
    "She must have dropped it," I said helpfully, looking as innocent as I could. "She had that whole tray." He gave me a look that said he didn't believe me for a moment, and left me alone with my breakfast.
    Then Dr. Ellis showed up. I wondered if I could take his very geniality as a sign that he wasn't a real person. No one is that avuncular all the time, are they?
    "Hi, how're you feeling?" he greeted me.
    "Okay, how are you?"
    "I'm all right. I understand we had another set of hallucinations last night?"
    "It was more along the lines of a dream. I woke up." I shrugged one shoulder.
    "How realistic was the dream?"
    "It was pretty vivid," I admitted grudgingly. "But then, they often are."
    He sat back in the silver chair with a sigh. "I'm going to ask for Dr. Smith to start therapy with you right away. I'm sure you have a lot of things that you need to work out. There are common problems with this."
    "Sure." No sense fighting a battle I wasn't going to win. "Can I get up sometime today, maybe?"
    "We're going to be starting you on physical therapy today," he told me.
    "Good."
    He did a brief examination, checked my eyes and so forth. "No pain in the arm?"
    "No."
    "Still clear-headed? How's the memory doing? What are your parents names?"
    "Joshua and Marianne."
    "Well, we have a CAT scan in an hour, physical therapy in the afternoon, and an hour with Dr. Smith just after lunch."
    "A full day."
    "Yes it is, it's time to get you seriously healing," he smiled.
    "Looking forward to it. Can I have a deck of cards?"
    "We can get a television in here if you'd like."
    "No, that's not needed."
    "One handed solitaire?"
    "It'll pass the time." Anything was better than thinking.

* Editor's Note: Yes, they roleplayed the fake rescue attempt—planned while I was out of the room, of course (for most of the session I was separated from the group; it was agony wondering what was going on in the other room). I had to include it in the write-up,if only because of Lucky.

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