A Chance Meeting

White, formal walls of the asylum. He was pretty sick of them by now. Of course, someone had to guard the poor memory-wiped sick folk from themselves and their delusions. Of course, someone had to guard the research facility and the virus within the labs. It was a hard enough work for the scientists to isolate it to the few victims now housed in the clinic while the virus was still natural. If someone was to steal it and spread it around on purpose, the results could be horrifying. He saw what it did to people - some of them could easily forget how to breathe.

Of course, some actually seemed to recover quite well, and with each passing day, the researchers from the secure wing brought in new samples of potential cure. The cure for memory deterioration itself was, in fact, achieved, the goal now was to restore the destroyed memories of the patients. This was the hard bit, from what he understood.

Today, that girl passed him by again. Smiling at him. Wished him a good day. He wondered about her. Wondered a lot. Who was she? He was sure she didn't know. She didn't even have a name, none that she knew of. Sometimes, they would talk, and she would ask him to pick a name for her. It felt strange. How could she remember the words, but not her name, not who she is? She knew nothing of her past.

She looked angelic.

Yesterday, he tried to read her files. It wasn't something he was likely permitted to do, but he didn't care. He wanted to know more about that girl, and a few nags from the employer wouldn't stop him from it. All he had the time for was just blindly copying the data. At home, he had no reader for it, either, but here, he could try. A bored guard, using one of the computers, who would ever be bothered by it?

He walked up to one of the machines, looking casual - or so he hoped, but inside, he felt tense; he struggled to contain the excitement and the fear. What if she was married? What if she was a lunatic? He was comfortable with her the way she was now. Would he be afterwards? He looked at the screen, hesitant, then opened the file.

To him, most of the text inside was gibberish. What would he know about the abbreviations, prescriptions and other such trash? There was nothing for him, nothing at all for all this trouble. It didn't even have her name. Just the number. Just that. Oh, and...

He blinked. It seems he'd copied her chart. Of course it wouldn't have her history, of course not. But even then, there was something that did catch his eye. A prescription due for just another week from now. A memory implant. He stared at it.

"Harry?", a voice said behind his back. Her voice. He tensed up. It was now or never. Decision time. Yes or no, one or zero. A binary choice with no chance to replay.

He closed the file and slowly, calmly turned to face her, trying to smile. Something was choking at his throat, and he couldn't quite make it stop.

"You remember", he said, "We've talked about outside? The trees, the grass, the flowers, the wind?"

"Of course I do", she replied, chuckling at him, "Since when have you become one of the doctors?"

"That's not what I meant", he muttered, looking confused. Her laugh, pretty as it was, was making him feel stupid - and the damned claw on his throat didn't help his case either.

She tilted her head to the side at his reply. "What then?"

"I meant, would you like to come see it with me? The outside?"

She blinked with surprise, her eyebrows rising involuntarily. "Outside? But we're not allowed to do that!"

"I know", he nodded, "But we're about to change that." He paused, looking at her, hoping she'd understand. And she did.

"Oh"

"Would you like to come with me?"

She looked at him, letting silence fall and the pause to grow. Slowly, a smile touched her lips. Her eyes. He smiled back.

"Of course I would!"