The prison was as austere a place as one would expect. Nina, despite all the times she'd had to step inside the place for the various articles that demanded it, never quite got used to the feeling being inside the building invoked. Still, it was a necessity—one that had forced her to call in a few favors to accomplish without having to wait for approval—and Nina had become accustomed to doing things she didn't particularly like for the sake of the truth.

The truth she was after that day was perhaps the most important of all.

She sat in the cold, metal seat she'd been provided and waited, with only the sound of the clock on the wall ticking away keeping her company. A cup of coffee sat on the metal table in front of her, black and still steaming. The scent it let out was the most inviting thing she'd come across in that miserable place. The taste of it was bitter, earthy—it helped to calm her nerves.

Nina had only to wait a short time before the door opened with a faint creaking sound and then the man she was there to speak to walked in followed by a guard.

Christopher Fearnley was as average a man as Nina had first thought he'd be when she'd seen his face displayed on her computer screen and then splashed across her television every time the news was on. He was shorter than her—though she was a tall woman—with mousy hair that was already graying, particularly around the sides, and eyes of a washed out blue tone. Dark circles gave him a sickly look as they contrasted with the paleness of his skin and the corners of his thin lips were tilted down into the slightest of frowns. Fearnley looked painfully pale beneath the harsh lighting of the room. The clothes he'd been issued seemed to hang off him, and Nina recalled that he hadn't looked so thin in the pictures she'd seen. The stress of it all must have taken a toll on him even in the short time he'd been imprisoned—Nina couldn't blame him.

The guard who'd lead him in cuffed him to the table and walked out without uttering so much as a single word. Nina sat there for a second, observing Fearnley. His gaze remained pointed down at the table, the paper cup of water within his reach went ignored.

"Thank you for meeting with me, Mr. Fearnley," Nina said, her voice taking on the same tone she used when she interviewed people. It was professional—cool and calm enough to seem cordial while keeping a distance between Nina and whoever she was speaking to.

Fearnley didn't respond.

"I'm Nina Sheppard with—"

"I know who you are, the guards told me. Why are you here, Ms. Sheppard," Fearnley cut Nina off. His voice was calm, tired, and softer than Nina had expected. It fit the mild mannered looking man sitting across from her. "I've confessed already. What else would you need to know?"

It took Nina a moment to gather her thoughts and formulate an answer.

"I'm here because there's something that hasn't been made clear."

"You want to know why I did it," Fearnley said, mouth twisting into a frustrated sort of grimace for a second. "It's what everyone wants to know. The only thing they all care about."

"Motive is always important in a case," Nina said, reciting words she'd heard time and again through her career.

"A mad man doesn't need a motive. That's what the guards say anyway."

"You hardly look mad to me." Nina had seen her share of mad men in her life, had reported on many of them. Fearnley looked stressed—on the brink of breaking—but still sane enough to look positively haunted by his current predicament as he sat across from her. Still holding together well enough to be tired of the constant questions and therefore, to be wary of Nina.

Still, she hadn't expected it to be so simple. It had been enough of a risk to bring up the reason for her visit so early into their meeting. Under different circumstances, Nina might not have done so, but on that day, time was not on her side. If she wanted to find out what had driven Fearnley to kill Alice she'd have to learn more about the man. Up on the wall, the clock continued to tick away.

"Mr. Fearnley, how did you know Alice Cassill?" she asked, hoping for an actual answer. Fearnley hesitated for a moment. He shifted in his seat, eyes flicking up to Nina for a second before diverting back down to the table.

"She worked at the research center where I was being treated, SEIN" Fearnley said after a while. The acronym for the South East Institute of Neuroprosthetics was something Nina was already familiar with. "Worked with neuroprosthetics."

"What kind of treatment did you receive there?" Fearnley was surprised by the question. No one had asked him that before, Nina realized.

"I got an implant, something to help my memory."

Now it was Nina's turn to be thrown off. She wasn't sure what sort of expression was displayed on her face, but it was enough to make Fearnley look at her strangely.

"A hippocampal implant?" Fearnley nodded.

"Yeah, a couple months back I got into an accident at work. Couldn't remember a thing after that. Heard of this new treatment and I must have figured there was nothing to lose. Next thing I know, I'm waking up on a hospital bed with the worst headache of my life and two and a half months have passed."

"Must have been difficult," Nina said. Belatedly, she realized her tone had slipped away from the even, professional voice she'd been using. The words had sounded just the slightest bit softer, sympathy poorly hidden within them.

"It was, but I was just glad it worked." Fearnley shrugged, the chain of the handcuffs jingling with the movement.

"Did you see Dr.Cassill often?"

"I guess. I had to keep going back for checkups, she'd see me sometimes. Doctors said I was doing just fine. Guess something must have gone wrong after all."

"Why do you say that?"

Fearnley seemed to think about how best to answer. Nina resisted the urge to look at the time, knowing all too well she was running out of it.

"To be honest, I don't really remember what happened all that well," Fearnley said after a minute. Despite the vague answer, Nina knew he was talking about Alice. "The memories are there, but they're not all clear. Could be because I'd just gotten fixed up."

"But you confessed," Nina said, wondering how someone could admit to committing a crime without having a clear recollection of the event.

"Because I did it," Fearnley said, with enough conviction that Nina stopped short. "I remember that much." The words were spoken quietly, with regret and guilt that should have told anyone there was more to the story. It made Nina wonder just what Fearnley remembered about that night.

Before Nina could ask Fearnley anything else, her time was up. There was a series of knocks on the door before the same guard entered the room.

"If you ever want to talk more," Nina said, handing Fearnley a piece of paper with her name and number she'd prepared ahead of time. He didn't answer, but he took the slip of paper. Nina figured that had to be enough.

The guard took Fearnley away. The man said not a word as he was led out, shoulders hunched and eyes fixed on the ground, hand still clasping Nina's phone number. Nina walked out into the sunlight and cool autumn air not long after.

She went over the conversation she'd had with Fearnley, over the little she'd learned about his relationship with Alice. If it could even be called that. The truth was, Nina was still no closer to figuring out what was going on.

Fearnley's motive was still unclear. As far as she could see he'd hardly known Alice, and yet he himself was certain of his own guilt. Alice herself was still a mystery—one that Nina had to solve if she had any hopes of understanding what was going on in her own head. With that thought in mind, Nina made her way to her car. There was still a lot she needed to do.

As the day turned to night, Nina sat in her living room. All of the files that she was able to gather on Fearnley and Alice—which weren't as many as she'd like—were strewn around her, both on the couch and on the coffee table in front of her. A plate of half eaten food sat on the corner of said table along with a pair of empty mugs that had once held coffee. The television screen displayed the smiling face of a woman enjoying a day at the beach as a voiceover listed the side effects for some new drug.

Nina stared not at the screen, but at the pages she'd gone over more than once, trying to see what she was missing—attempting to find the connection between the two people and the memories that continued to play in her mind at the slightest trigger. Nina knew it was still a long shot. Knew that anyone else would have taken Nat's suggestion to see a doctor. At the very least, most people would have seen Fearnley and Alice's connection as irrelevant to the issue at hand. Still, there was something telling Nina that she needed to know what happened. She needed to find out why Fearnley had killed Alice.

Learning that the man had connections to the same research center where Nina had been treated—where Alice had worked—had only made Nina that much more determined to find out the truth. Especially with the knowledge that Fearnley had also received the same kind of implant as Nina. Some part of her couldn't help but feel sympathetic. After all, Nina was all too familiar with the feeling of trying to put things back together without having all the pieces. That was what it had always felt like to Nina, from the moment she'd awoken after her surgery months after the accident.

Then, just as she thought things were getting better, the visions she was now almost certain were Alice's memories started up. Her unreadable expression as she stared back at Nina was a thought that kept crossing Nina's mind.

What if it crossed Fearnley's mind too, Nina thought, the idea coming to her suddenly. What if Fearnley had those same memories as me. But why wouldn't he tell anyone?

As soon as the last thought occurred to her Nina knew the answer. Even she'd had trouble telling anyone—even those she trusted, like Nat and Iris—about the things she was seeing. Why would Fearnley ever confide in someone he didn't know. And then there was the question of why.

Why would Alice ever do something like that to the people in her care? Even if she were able to do such a thing, Nina couldn't figure out why she would implant a series of nonsensical memories into someone she didn't know.

Nina's tired eyes swept over the mess on her table only to stop on the worn notebook where she'd been jotting down every single memory of the hall and the pictures.Every scent, every sound and every single picture had been written down as soon as Nina's mind had returned to reality. She'd yet to find a pattern that could provide her an answer, perhaps because there was still so much she didn't know about Alice and her circumstances.

A yawn left Nina's mouth, her tired eyes closing as her mouth opened. She knew she needed to sleep when the simple task of opening her eyes felt all too difficult. Her eyelids felt heavy, too heavy to stay up for much longer. Slowly, Nina drifted off to sleep on her couch. The people on the television chattered on as the light of the screen washed over Nina's sleeping form.

She was aware of none of this as she was transported back to that cream colored wall with the hardwood floors. Her feet, as they always did, moved on their own with each step echoing along the hall. Other than that, there was no sound. No faintly playing music or almost lonely sounding singing, just Nina's steps and the near silent sound of her steady breaths. The lighting seemed brighter somehow, livelier, and her steps were just a tad quicker than usual.

Nina could still see the frame at the end of the hall, just a few more steps and she would stand before it. And then, she was there, and from the corner of her eye Nina saw the picture frame as she walked by it without so much as a moment's pause. Her hand rose, looking strangely small, and clasped around a plain door knob painted gold. She felt the knob turn, saw a sliver of bright sunlight pour out as the door opened.

Nina woke up to the sound of an early morning show playing on the television and her phone vibrating against the top of her coffee table. It took her a moment to realize where she was, the walls of the hallway gone too suddenly and her mind still struggling to keep up with things. It was only a moment later that she registered just how different her dream had been from the others. Almost automatically, Nina reached for her notebook, intending to write down as much as she could recall.

All of the details were still clear in her mind, and Nina focused on keeping a firm grasp of them as she worked. The phone on her coffee table went ignored, the message that had been left would have to wait.

- - - - - - - - - 

Hey everyone! Posting this a bit late in the day today because I've been busy, but here it is. Hope you all liked it and thank you all for reading. As always, please comment and/or vote if you can. I love reading the theories you all come up with, haha. 

Have a great weekend!