Searing pain speared through Sam's brain, dragging him out of blissful nothingness. He tried to drift back to sleep, but aches throughout his body grew more intense, demanding his attention. He opened his eyes to find himself in a strange room. Groaning, he pushed himself up to find the room contained medical supplies and another hospital bed.
"You're awake." Professor Brunelle's voice rattled from the other bed.
"Where am I? Where are Professors Kerrigan and James"
The older man shook his head and winced. "They didn't make it. The potion exploded."
Sam did not like Professor James, but his death still shocked him. And Professor Mallory Kerrigan... tears filled his eyes, and guilt twisted his gut. "I should have made them listen. I should have figured it out sooner."
"Hush, now." Brunelle took a tired, raspy breath and fell into a fit of wheezing coughs.
"I know how to make the potion," Sam whispered.
"Good." The old historian sank back into his bed, his coughs dying down and a hush fell over the room as the man's eyes closed.
Sam stared at the wizened man as his chest rose and fell with haggard breaths. The historian still seemed to think the potion necessary. Sam knew how to make it. The question was should he.
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