Varying opinions aside about the new caretakers, the efficiency of the military was worthy of some admiration. The Great Escape ended with minutes to spare, and the staff wasted no time in dismantling the equipment in the Sun Room. Visitors were kindly informed that visiting hours were over while patients were ushered to their rooms
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Unfortunately, the day just couldn't end without one more terrible surprise to catch him off guard.
The letter had been waiting for him beside his usual ration of pink gruel on his desk. Byrne had sat down, choosing to first examine the letter over eating the gruel. (Who wouldn't, honestly?) He had read it over carefully, and as he did so his expression had gone from curiosity to shock to downright horror ( ... )
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He came into the room and sat on the bed. It put McCoy at a better angle to see just what Byrne was looking at. It looked like a piece of paper. A letter? From who? They even got letters here? It was news to him at least, because he'd never heard of patients getting letters.
Whatever it was, Byrne didn't look happy to see it.
"Look like you saw a ghost." McCoy said.
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"You could say that," Byrne said some twenty seconds after his roommate spoke. A weary smile crossed his lips. "More like the institute just found one more way to screw with me."
He picked up the letter and flipped it over so that he wouldn't have to look at the writing anymore. Too much. This was really too much.
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Finally he moved, and finally he answered him. The answer didn't exactly stop his suspicions. So it was something bad.
"Want to talk about it?" he asked. They were strangers, McCoy would understand if he turned him down or got upset, but having an open ear could help.
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Byrne had a daughter too, and he'd gotten a letter from her? Of course, the institute could always fake a letter, but after what he'd seen of Joanna earlier, somehow he got the impression it might not be a fake. Obviously it had shaken Byrne, and it was possible that the content sounded like his daughter, minus the other details. Was it hand written? Maybe Byrne could recognize the writing.
As if that couldn't be forged too. It was like the institute had seen the weak spots, for Byrne, his daughter, and gone for the jugular.
"Can't say for sure," he had to admit. "Did you get a visitor yet? Because my kid showed up and she claimed she had a different name too. Different history. But it was definitely her."
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