He slammed the file shut again and leaned back in the chair once more, arms behind his head this time. "No way," he said to himself in a whisper. "No way in the world."

~

PC Wilson placed the man in cell number thirteen, the only one free. It could have been worse, he thought, could've been a Friday.

"Here you go," he told him. "Now I suggest you think about what DCI Robbins said and drop the act, mate."

The man ignored him. His shoes and socks had already been taken off him, and now Wilson thought about asking for the toy as well. Prisoners weren't meant to have any personal effects in the cells. But something stopped him from doing so, and he left the man be.

"If you come to your senses, shout," said Wilson.

Then he shut the 'dead man' away, all alone in the small, dark, confined space. And as Wilson locked up and walked down the corridor he had the strangest feeling.

The feeling that this wasn't the first time the guy been shut away. That the last time it had been an even smaller, and even darker space.

Chapter Four

It was dark.

A blackness so overpowering, so unbearable it was like being drowned in pure liquid night. It was hard to gather his thoughts, but he felt sure he was walking, placing one foot in front of the other, just trudging on towards something. And he was granted a sense of where he might be----the walls of this place closing in on him, but they were round rather than flat, a roundness that stretched out into the distance. A tiny speck of light appeared at the far end of this tunnel. He felt compelled to look in its direction, an urgency to head towards it for some reason.

The light was growing stronger; it changed from a tiny speck to a bright glaring ball, meaning he was getting nearer to the end, although he didn't feel like he was walking at all anymore. Yet the light was still growing nearer. Perhaps he was floating; he had no idea, but it was a strange sensation. The light was getting bigger and bigger. Soon it would all be over, soon he would find out what was at the end of this conduit, what the light meant.

He put up his hands to stop it from blinding him, but it shone right through----such was its intensity. Then, suddenly, the light was upon him. He was a part of the light and it was a part of him.

All the answers, the things out of reach would soon be revealed.

Just a few more seconds, just a few more----

~

The hand shook him awake and gave him a start.

"Dead to the world." Inspector Robbins' face hovered above him in the cell. The man sat bolt upright on the bunk. "Time to wake yourself Rip van Winkle," he said in a snide voice.

The man swung his bare feet onto the cold tiled floor.

"We have a visitor for you."

"Mum?"

Robbins shook his head, grinning. "Afraid not. No, I thought about what you said----about checking you over. You're right; we have to make sure you're not whacked out on something that might be making you delusional. Wilson?"

The PC stepped into his field of vision, bringing someone with him----a woman in her late thirties, early forties. Her hair was a light shade of bronze, with the merest hints of grey beginning at the temples. She wore a beige trouser suit with an off-white blouse beneath the jacket. And she was carrying with her a black leather case.

"This is Doctor Preston," Robbins informed him. "She's going to examine you. Now, PC Wilson is going to be just outside, so don't give her a hard time, okay?"

Dr. Preston came further into the chamber, looking around her as she did so. Then their eyes met, only severing contact when Robbins said something to her.

"I'm sorry?"

"I said: twenty minutes all right?"

"Fine," she told him.

Robbins gave a satisfied nod. "All right then, we'll leave you to it."

The DCI exited the cell, with Wilson hanging back a few moments longer before leaving the door open a crack and waiting outside.

"So," said Dr Preston to break the silence that had descended, "what's your story?"

The man stared at her blankly.

"Not one for idle chit chat, I understand. Okay, well if you wouldn't mind getting undressed, we'll make a start."

He did as he was told, unbuttoning the shirt and shrugging it down over his shoulders. Then he took off his trousers; there was no underwear beneath. Preston opened her bag and took out the tools of her trade, listening to his heartbeat----steady and strong----looking in his ears, taking his temperature, testing his reflexes. It was there that she caught a glimpse of the birthmark on the top of his leg. It was dark red and shaped like a map of some unknown land. But she got on with her job, not giving it another thought. Everything seemed in working order. "Now this won't hurt much," she told him, taking out a needle, "I just need to draw some blood."

He nodded vaguely, looking down as she shoved the needle into his upper arm, pulling back on one end and filling it with redness.

"There, all done. You're in pretty good nick, if you'll pardon the expression," she said.

"I'm alive," he said as he got dressed again, and the sound of his voice startled her. She wasn't quite sure whether it was a question or a statement.

"Er... yes, in my professional opinion. Why, don't you feel very well?"

He laughed softly and caught her eyes again. "They haven't told you yet, have they?"

Preston's eyebrows creased. "About?"

"It doesn't matter, you'll find out soon enough."

"I don't like mysteries Mister----?" She waited for him to give her his name. When he didn't she said, "My first name's Bethany, by the way. Beth for short."

"Matthew," he told her. "My name's Matthew."

"There now, see----that wasn't so difficult. Right, well, I think we're all done here Matth----"

He shot out his hand so fast she didn't have time to move away, and his fingers were around her wrist seconds later----not tight, just enough to draw her face in closer. "What're you..." She was just about to call for Wilson when he said:

"Don't blame yourself. You did everything you could." His hazel eyes were intense, piercing, and she felt a shudder go through her entire body. " Shedoesn't blame you."

"What?"

"You have to let it go, all of it. All the guilt."

She wrestled her hand free, moving back sharply as if stung. Beth grabbed her bag and raced for the door.

"Sarah's happy," said the man plainly.

She closed her eyes and opened them again, looking back at him. "What... what did you just say?"

"You heard me."

The doctor was gazing at him in disbelief. "You... you can't..."

He turned away from her. "I'll see you again."

Beth yanked open the door and virtually walked into the PC who was standing guard there. She motioned for him to lock the cell again.

"Are you all right, Dr Preston?" he asked her.

But she didn't hear him. She was looking through the slit in the door, watching the man in there as he held up a toy car and stared at it.

"Dr Preston?" His fingertips brushed her arm and she jumped back. "I'm sorry."