"Haunted, episode 1x10: Seeking Asylum" 

Staring: Matthew Fox, Russell Hornsby, John Mann, Michael Irby, 
Lynn Collins

Guest staring: Colleen Fitzpatrick, Michael DeLuise, Emily Liu, 
Tania Gunadi, Darwin Harris, Kymberly Newberry, Joanne Jacques


Frank sits on a park bench and one of those really obnoxious 
crows the size of a small cat lands next to him and squawks 
loudly. Instead of pulling out his gun and trying to shoot it 
like I would, he just stares at it and nods like “hey” and it 
flies off. Obviously he doesn’t have to deal with those little 
feathered demons every fall and spring bullying every other 
innocent bird in sight away from birdfeeders. A pretty woman of 
oriental descent meets Frank. He calls her Megan. She says she 
“went back” to “try to see him again like you said” and the 
bureaucrats who own the place told her he wasn’t there. 
Wherever “there” is and whoever “they” are, she knows they’re 
lying because she took him – whoever “he” is – to the place 
herself. Frank says he used the key she gave him for whoever’s 
place and found the picture. He hands her a picture of her 
hugging an older guy with a wild pattern shirt and scraggly 
beard. Megan cries and says that was taken a couple days before 
“it” happened and she never saw him smile again. Frank says 
they’ve done everything they can from the outside of wherever 
so now he’s going to see what he can do from the inside. Crows 
squawk obnoxiously in the background, causing my teeth to grind 
and making it difficult for me to focus on this already cryptic 
conversation. She asks if he’s sure he wants to do that. He 
says he’s already made the arrangements, but he needs to ask 
one more thing first. Is she sure “Michael” didn’t have some 
sort of problem he was too embarrassed to tell her about. She 
assures Frank that she knows Michael because “anesthesiology 
residents are put under an intense microscope. The hospital 
gave him this chance to clear his name, I know he wouldn’t blow 
it.” She says she really appreciates Frank doing this as 
Michael doesn’t have any family other than her. He promises to 
keep in touch with her and then up and walks up the steps to a 
“Psychiatric Recovery Center” that is apparently nearby. “Can I 
help you,” the receptionist asks. He says yeah, uh... “I’m here 
to check in.” Well, this sounds promising.

Frank is sitting in the waiting area when a pretty girl comes 
around watering plants. He asks what the secret is to keeping 
them alive. Feeding them, Frank. I assume you made arrangements 
for Gus, by the way. She says a high level of skill and nothing 
better to do. They share a few smiles and meaningful looks and 
she leaves, followed closely by an orderly. A bald guy in a 
sweater finally comes in to talk to Frank, introducing himself 
as Dr. Martin and inviting Frank into his office.

“I understand you’re having delusions,” Martin says in a 
soothing psychotherapist voice as they walk to his office. 
Frank says yeah, uh...he sees ghosts. Martin asks if the ghosts 
ever speak to him. No, they usually try to beat him over the 
head with clues and make occasional attempts to kill him. Or, 
as Frank calls it, “nonverbal communication”. Martin says that, 
unlike his predecessor, he thinks they can treat these sorts of 
things and achieve results very quickly. In other words, dope 
the patient up and they stop complaining? Frank drops his bag 
on the floor, sniffs the air and asks if something is burning. 
The camera flips to Martin looking baffled for a second, then 
back to Frank, who now has a very charred ghost standing behind 
him. The ghost grabs his shoulder and he yelps and drops to the 
floor, clutching his shoulder in pain. Martin hits a call 
button and stares at Frank like he’s got a research study 
taking shape right in front of him. “What’s happening?” Frank 
has no idea but he’s looking around wildly and panting, still 
grabbing his shoulder. Martin asks if he’s okay. He says no and 
winces. A nurse pokes her head in and Martin asks her to take 
Frank for “observation”. She goes to take his arm and he 
weirdly snatches his hands back and snaps that they don’t need 
to force him – he can walk on his own thank you very much.

Doctor’s office. The nurse asks Frank to roll up his sleeve. He 
takes his jacket off but doesn’t roll up his sleeve at all. She 
takes his bloodpressure and he watches the readout blink out of 
control, flashing 250/250, which I believe is generally 
considered a sign that one really needs a vacation. She reads 
120/80, which is almost too normal for someone who has dead 
people routinely scaring the pants off him. She asks him to 
unbutton his shirt and he nervously tries to joke “we just 
met.” She smiles slightly and says in a Don’t Fuck With Me 
voice “either you do it or I will.” I love her. She uncovers 
some very odd looking (by which I mean the makeup department 
must have been feeling lazy that day) raised burns – or, you 
know, strategically pasted metal shavings - in the shape of 
fingers on his shoulder. She asks what the hell happened and he 
says he doesn’t know. You’re in a mental hospital Frank. I 
think it’s safe to say the dead guy is trying to send you a 
message. Nurse shakes her head and says she’s not impressed by 
self inflicted wounds. Um...those are obviously made by the 
fingers of a right hand and from the direction they’re going 
even if he could have made burn marks like that he would have 
had to dislocate his shoulder and twist into a really weird 
position to do it. She warns she’ll be watching him very 
closely. Frank just buttons his shirt and smiles stupidly.

So Frank is sitting on the bed in his room when he hears a 
muffled voice saying “Twenty...twenty...twenty...twenty...” 
over and over. He follows the sound to a small hole in the 
wall. Having clearly never heard this joke in his life, he 
bends down and tries to look through the hole and, of course, 
gets jabbed in the eye. “TWENTY-ONE,” the voice shrieks, 
laughing crazily. Yeah, you’re an idiot, Frank. Then suddenly 
Simon appears on the bed and is all ‘dude. *I* never even spent 
time in a nut house and you know I smeared myself with peanut 
butter and ran around the house declaring myself King of the 
World toward the end.’

Sometime later Frank has changed out of his suit and into a 
more comfortable sweater. Martin shows him the “art room” and 
says they ask all new patients to create self portraits because 
it lets them see the patient as they see themselves. Some of 
these are in the background and I am entertained by the one of 
a heart-shaped smiley face under a rainbow. It looks like a 
preschooler drew it, but it’s totally what somebody like me who 
can’t draw to save her life would do. (“I would have drawn a 
mutilated version of myself surrounded by laughing demons, but 
I can’t draw people so here’s a rainbow and some kittens. Want 
to make something of it?”) Frank says what if he doesn’t like 
what he sees? Martin says that’s why he’s here. Duh. He puts a 
blank canvas on an easel and leaves Frank to it. Frank looks 
around at some of the other pictures, including what looks like 
a devil (that’s pretty blunt, no?). He finds “MJ”s picture 
(Michael Johnson), which is really good but scary looking and 
half in shadow. He puts it in his pocket.

Group therapy meeting. Frank takes an empty chair and the guy 
with buggy eyes next to him freaks out and says he can’t sit 
there because the seat’s “saved”. Presumably for the giant 
rabbit he’s expecting to come by later. Frank sighs and goes to 
sit next to Martin. Bug Eye snaps at him to not condescend and 
“I’m paranoid because everyone’s out to get me. Who are you? I 
don’t know you. Who are you?” Martin introduces Frank to the 
group and spews something about group therapy being a place 
where they can share their experiences and learn from each 
other. The girl Frank saw earlier, who Martin calls “Bliss” 
(really?) starts ranting about how the last doctor was about to 
release her from the asylum but apparently this yahoo refuses 
to follow through. “You can’t keep me here just because you 
feel like it!” Martin deflects that this is something they can 
talk about in a private session. She reigns in all the bad 
names she obviously wants to call him and turns her chair 
backwards so she’s facing away from the rest of the group. Why 
don’t you just leave, honey? Martin says okay then, let’s talk 
about Frank now. He pulls out Frank’s self portrait, which he 
finds interesting as it appears to be of his “dark side”. It’s 
a disturbing comic-book-like drawing of Simon. Bug Eye puts his 
face really close to the picture and notes that it does kind of 
look like Frank, or at least like his evil twin. Uh, no it 
doesn’t.

Mercifully, we don’t see any more psychoanalysis of Frank’s 
issues. We cut to after the meeting where Bliss walks around 
the halls with Frank. She says he’s really talented and that 
drawing “really shows your torment.” Okay, so I guess we are 
going to psychoanalyze after all. She says she’s an artist too 
and thinks she might want to start a gallery when she finally 
convinces Martin to let her out. He pulls her into a 
surveillance camera blindspot and shows her Michael’s drawing. 
He asks if this man is in the hospital. She says he *was*. 
Frank asks when he left. She doesn’t know. Frank grabs his head 
like he’s feeling a major headache coming on. Bliss asks if she 
should call a doctor. Frank says he’s fine and looks around 
shiftily. “Was there ever a fire in here?” She says yeah, but 
how did he know that? He asks if she was here when it happened 
and she says yeah but he’s distracted by the digital clock on 
the wall beeping out of control. It stops on 2:50, blinks a few 
times and squeals like a bomb. Frank tackles Bliss to the 
ground as it blows up. Of course, when he looks up again, the 
clock is back the way it was, calmly displaying 5:00 and Bliss 
is looking freaked out and asking if he’s sure he’s all right. 
I’m surprised when the orderlies nearby don’t descend on him 
with hypodermics full of tranquilizer and escort him back to 
his room.

Next day? Marcus visits Frank – who is oddly wearing his suit 
again - to tell him that there are 198 Michael Johnsons in the 
greater Los Angeles area. I’m surprised there aren’t more than 
that. Frank asks if he really came all this way just to tell 
him that. Marcus is like nah, man, I came to get a good chuckle 
outta you being locked up in the Loony Bin. What’ve *you* got? 
Frank says he’s found a girl who knew Michael, but he hasn’t 
gotten access to the records yet. “The thing is is that he was 
in 28 day rehab, so the sooner I find out if he has a record, 
the less time I waste in here discovering my inner child while 
he’s back on the street copin’.” Oh, you’re not just 
discovering you’re inner child, Frank. I’m sure you’re finding 
out all the ways your parents messed you up and why your 
relationships are doomed to disaster. Frank is guessing 
something happened to Michael in here and asks Marcus to see if 
he can find anything strange about the fire. Marcus says yeah, 
sure, and goes to clap him on the shoulder. Unfortunately, it’s 
the burned one and Frank whines and grabs at it in pain. He 
assures Marcus that he’s fine though. Marcus asks if they have 
him heavy lifting or something and if Frank is sure this isn’t 
all just some “bizarre cry for help”. “Marcus, come on,” Frank 
chuckles. “Who are you talkin’ to here?” That’s not exactly 
reassuring, Frank. Marcus agrees with me. He gets right up in 
Frank’s face and says he’d tell his old buddy/secret man crush 
if he needed help, right? Frank’s mouth says of course he 
would, his eyes say hell no and his tone says ‘who me? Haha! 
I’m not crazy! Really, I swear!’ Marcus eyes him warily, says 
he’ll talk to him later and slowly backs away. 

And then Frank is in the common room of the hospital sometime 
later wearing jeans and a completely different colored shirt. 
Were the editors just slapping things together in random order 
or what? He picks up a newspaper with an article about the fire 
(how long ago did this happen again?), mumbling out loud that 
it was contained in the East ward. He sits next to a dejected 
looking Bliss and asks how she’s doing. She grumbles that “all 
they care about is the money.” Apparently she has really good 
insurance that keeps paying for her to stay in the Nut House 
even though she desperately wants out. Then why are you 
complaining? It’s not like they’re forcing you to take pills 
that dull your brain or chaining you to the bed at night. This 
place looks like the fucking Hilton. Frank starts asking 
questions about the fire. When did it happen? Sometime around 
breakfast. Was anyone hurt? Well, there were paramedics and 
fire trucks but she doesn’t know. Bug Eye shows up to accuse 
Frank of moving in on his woman. Bliss snorts and tells Frank 
that they let him have his little fantasies. 

Bug Eye pulls Frank aside and apologizes for freaking out on 
him because, you know, sometimes those voices make him do crazy 
things. Frank tries to ask after his “friend” Michael but Bug 
Eye keeps rambling about how different Martin is from his 
predecessor Dr. Cardicott. Frank tries to hold him still and 
get him to focus and asks if he remembers Michael. Bug Eye 
starts rambling about how much he wants to get out of here. 
Frank is starting to rub his head in the way Matthew always 
does when his characters get frustrated. Bug Eye babbles “we’re 
cool, right? We’re cool” and Frank says yeah, but listen, he 
really needs to know... “HE’S A DILDO,” Bug Eye screams. This 
gets the attention of the nurse and orderlies, who start 
circling the wagons. Bug Eye says that’s what he remembers 
about Michael: he kept changing the channels when Bug Eye was 
watching TV. Frank tries to get Bug Eye to focus on him and 
they start both talking at the same time and the conversation 
basically goes like this:
   Frank: Hey. Hey. HEY! Answer the question!
   Bug Eye: I really liked that show and he kept changing the 
    channel and he was a dildo and BAH! STOP ASKING QUESTIONS! 
    VOICES! THE VOICES ARE MAKING ME CRAZY! I AM A LITTLE 
    TEAPOT! 
Some orderlies grab Frank and Bug Eye, shoving some pills in 
Bug Eye’s mouth and shooting Frank full of tranquilizer while 
the nurse makes soothing noises in an effort to calm the crazy 
people. The orderlies drag a woozy Frank off while Bug Eye, 
being guided in the other direction, makes fun of him.

Frank wakes up on a couch in Martin’s office. His drawing of 
Simon is right in front of his face. “Real” Ghost Simon appears 
either crouched over him or lying suspended in the air behind 
him. Either way he’s much too close and Frank would probably be 
much more uncomfortable if he wasn’t still woozy. “That’s nice 
work, Frank,” Simon smarms. He says he would have chosen 
“cheerier” colors, but whatever. Frank mumbles groggily that if 
the doctor can figure out a way to get rid of Simon this will 
all have been worth it. The doctor himself appears and asks who 
Frank is talking to. Frank says oh, his self portrait. Does 
that sound less crazy than the ghost of the guy he killed and 
who’s been following him around for months? I don’t know. Frank 
mumbles that they knew he didn’t want drugs so why the hell did 
they just dope him? Martin says the nurse is authorized to 
tranq any patients who get out of control. Frank mutters that 
he wasn’t out of control. Martin begs to differ. His psychotic 
episodes are increasing in frequency and he’s in total denial 
that he has a problem. Frank pissily shouts that he wouldn’t BE 
HERE if he was in COMPLETE DENIAL. Martin does not say “yes, 
act unstable and scream a lot. That’ll encourage us to not drug 
you into a stupor again.” Frank stumbles over to an “artwork” 
behind the desk that’s basically a bunch of nails tacked to a 
board in a random starburst pattern. Martin says a patient did 
that. Frank says it’s “interesting”, which is Minnesota nice 
code for “it’s a piece of crap but I’m not going to say so out 
loud because that would be rude.” Martin adds that it was made 
out of nails removed from the patient’s own stomach. Oh. Er. 
That’s a lot of nails. Martin says it’s all about 
transformation: “learning how to take something shameful and 
turn it into something beautiful.” Frank asks who the patient 
was. Martin says it was Cardicott’s patient, he just inherited 
it when he took over the office. The old doctor didn’t take it 
with him, huh? Hmm... He says it’s not important: the point is 
Frank needs to learn how to transform his demons. Frank is 
still staring at the “artwork” when the nail sticking straight 
out from the middle starts glowing red hot and bending in on 
itself. 

Frank’s room. Frank is sitting next to the hole in the wall 
while the voice on the other side chants “twenty-one, twenty-
one...”. He slides a loose knot up next to the hole, waits for 
the finger to come poking through at the movement and tightens 
the knot. The finger disappears, with the knot, and the voice 
shrieks “oh, no!” Frank sits back, satisfied and the nurse 
sticks her head in to tell him it’s time for “community 
chores”. There’s some bumping and thumping in the other room 
and the voice whines “whyyyyyy?” and the nurse looks at the 
hole in the wall oddly as Frank calmly walks past her out the 
door. Okay, that was completely pointless but funny. 

Frank and Bliss tend to a garden on a balcony, which... why 
would you have an unguarded balcony in a mental institution 
which patients have access to? Wouldn’t you constantly run the 
risk of a paranoid schizophrenic trying to jump because the 
voices were trying to get him? Frank says Bliss shouldn’t be 
there and asks what one would have to do to get themselves 
committed to a place like this. She says pretty much anything 
and asks what he did. He mumbles something about needing to 
work out some “personal stuff”. She totally calls him on it. 
“Could you be any more vague?” I love you, Bliss. Now can you 
tell us your real name so I can stop calling you “Bliss”? Or 
were your parents hippies who named you when they were in the 
middle of a drug induced haze at Woodstock? She starts spewing 
her entire life history to Frank but I’m distracted by the 
sudden change in camera angle that has put a street that looks 
very familiar behind her. I think I can almost see the hotel I 
stayed at for a week in high school in the background. I mean, 
I know a lot of streets in Los Angeles probably look familiar, 
but that sign on the liquor store - and the building across 
from it - looks really familiar. I think if the camera operator 
stepped forward a bit and panned left we might see part of the 
Hollywood sign. Or maybe I’m totally confused because there’s a 
big body of water over Frank’s shoulder and I don’t remember 
one of those being anywhere near that area. Anyway. Blah blah 
tried to emancipate from her parents and her big shot lawyer of 
a father overturned it by declaring her crazy. “It’s the 
hypocrites you’ve gotta watch out for,” she tells Frank. 
“Either care and be in someone’s life or stay the hell out of 
it.” She’s stabbing at the dirt angrily now and Frank, wisely, 
says nothing. 

Then she says her dad’s real problem was the fact that she kept 
dating older men even though it was perfectly okay for him to 
date younger women. She adds off-handedly that Frank is 
probably the youngest guy she ever had a crush on. As someone 
who spent most of her K-12 years crushing on guys at least a 
decade older than her and dated a thirty year old when she was 
nineteen, I...have nothing to say to that. Frank doesn’t 
either. He just kind of bites his lip and blushes awkwardly. 
She says she made something for him and attaches a black and 
blue beaded bracelet with little silver beads spelling his name 
to his wrist. I know he’s kind of girly, but really. This 
bracelet looks like a less plasticy variation of the sort of 
thing you make at a sleepover after you’re done braiding each 
other’s hair and experimenting with colors of nail polish. She 
holds his hand for a long minute, then smiles shyly and walks 
away. I’m surprised she didn’t slip a note in his hand that 
says “Frank, do you like me? Yes or No.”

Sometime later, Frank is standing in Martin’s office being 
lectured. I would assume this is a different day since Frank 
has changed into his very flattering dark blue shirt, but I get 
the feeling judging time skips by his costume changes will just 
make me dizzy and frustrated. Martin says he can’t help Frank 
if he won’t cooperate. “Since you’ve been here all that you 
have done is lash out at the staff, refuse your medications, 
harass the other patients...I’m really just waiting for you to 
drop to the floor and throw a full blown screaming fit like a 
three year old.” Yeah, that last part was mine. Frank spews 
some bullshit about not knowing if this building is really safe 
since there was a fire and all. Martin says the building had 
all of it’s original wiring, now can we get back to the topic 
here? Frank asks if anyone died. So that’s a no then? Martin 
sighs and says next session he would like Frank to try a little 
harder to not avoid any actual therapy. He glances at the clock 
(11:30) and says their time is up. Frank looks at it and it 
starts bleeping crazily and zipping through times to land on 
2:50. Frank says uh-huh and stalks out, going past an 
unattended desk on his way down a hall and fishing some keys 
from it. WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH THIS PLACE? Bliss catches 
him at the end of the hall and asks if he’s trying to escape. 
He says no, he hasn’t found what he came in for yet. She asks 
what the hell he’s talking about. Michael Johnson, who Frank is 
starting to suspect may no longer be alive. 

Some very noisy people start coming down a hallway toward them 
and they duck into a broom closet. It’s even darker in there 
than usual for this show so we can only see their silhouettes, 
but she appears to be rubbing his chest as she asks if maybe, 
had they met on the outside, he thinks they might have “hooked 
up”. “I don’t know,” he says, sounding baffled. Heh. They kiss 
for a while, causing the screen to go almost entirely black and 
making it impossible to tell where they are anymore. It’s 
rather disorienting. He pulls back and says this isn’t really 
the best place. She babbles that she doesn’t know what will 
happen to her on the outside and she wants to live her life by 
“some kind of code.” He who falls behind is left behind? Oh, 
wait... She kisses him again and all his now probably 
overheated brain can spit out is “that’s good.” What is? She 
asks what the hell Frank is doing here and he decides to throw 
all caution to the wind and up and tell her he’s a PI. She 
stares at him for a full minute stupidly and asks “are you 
sure?” To be fair, this *is* Frank, so that’s probably a 
perfectly legitimate question. He says yes and turns on the 
light in the closet. He listens to the voices outside for a 
minute trying to figure out what happened to the keys and says 
it sounds like somebody’s looking for them. He ignores this and 
asks if she remembers seeing Michael after the fire. Uh...no. 
He doesn’t think that’s a coincidence. Yes, that’s why you’re a 
PI, genius. Then he gasps and pulls the drawing of Michael out 
of his back pocket and it bursts into flame. He drops it on the 
ground and stamps it out and is left with two burnt halves 
split right down the middle of Michael’s face. She takes half 
of it and spews the following garbage: “Frank, art is so 
powerful it exists to turn chaos into order. It can’t answer 
out questions. [something] answer our questions if we just know 
what to ask.” I think maybe the writers were going for “deep” 
and “philosophical” but ended up more in the realm of 
nonsensical blithering. Did Chris Carter take a job on the 
writing staff? They hover well in each other’s personal space 
like maybe they might start kissing again, but then the guards 
go by and Frank snaps off the light and they slip out. He 
promises to meet up with her later.

And now for something totally different. Frank, wearing the 
shirt he was wearing in the gardening scene earlier, walks into 
some random hallway through a door that obviously leads 
outside. Where he is coming from or where he’s going are 
apparently not important details. The door slams shut behind 
him all by itself. He starts down the hallway and gets spooked 
by the charred ghost, whose skin is actively smoking, and who 
is standing in an alcove waiting for him. Frank grabs his 
burned shoulder and whimpers. The ghost disappears and we fade 
to black. Uh, yeah. WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT? That whole scene 
made no sense and was so unpolished it looked like a student 
film. 

And now we’re who the hell knows how much time later back in 
the hallways Frank and Bliss just parted in and Frank is back 
to wearing his suit. I give the fuck up. It’s becoming 
increasingly obvious that this episode was not finished before 
the show was cancelled and production shut down. Frank goes to 
get Bliss and his secret knock on her door is actually the 
“shave and a haircut” knock. You couldn’t come up with 
something more creative, Frank? He says he’s getting out of 
here and Bliss eagerly follows him. Wha? I thought you just 
said earlier that...right. Giving up now.

Along the way Bliss babbles that as soon as she gets out she’s 
going to look up Dr. Cardicott because he was so wonderful and 
non-judgemental and...Bug Eye wanders into their path and asks 
what the hell they’re doing. He accuses Frank of stealing his 
girl again and Bliss manages not to laugh as she assures him 
that she and Frank will never have what they had. Frank is 
tired of this game and says they’re busting out. Is Bug Eye in? 
He splutters and says no, no, ah...noooooooo. Out there? Are 
you crazy? But let me show you the roof access door. He leads 
them up and babbles that he’s never actually been on the roof 
because it’s so high but this is “good practice for when the 
camera crew gets here.” What, no space aliens? Frank stops when 
he sees room 250. Bug Eye points out that that’s not the way to 
the roof. Frank gently tells him they can find their way from 
here and pulls a piece of string from his pocket, tying it to 
Bug Eye’s finger. “Something to remember me by,” he smiles. Bug 
Eye gets an expression like a child who’s just seen a really 
cool magic trick and asks how Frank knew it was him. Frank 
doesn’t respond, but who the hell else would it be? Bliss pets 
his face and wishes him well and he stumbles off in a haze. 
Best character on this show. 

The room is packed with boxes and filing cabinets. Frank 
wanders around trying to find something significant and somehow 
comes up with insurance claims for the fire that note property 
damage but no casualties. Then for the hell of it he pulls out 
his file and reads “an intense need to control. Strong 
indications of post-traumatic stress. Patient shows obsessive 
tendencies.” Sounds about right. “What isn’t wrong with me,” he 
asks rhetorically as he puts the file back. I’ll get back to 
you when I think of something, Frank. He goes to open another 
drawer but the handle turns red hot. Bliss watches, confused 
since she doesn’t see the flaming handle, as he wraps a 
handkerchief around his hand and tries again. He pulls out a 
file that has Cardicott’s resignation and Martin’s 
recommendation for replacement. He looks at the sizzling handle 
and asks Bliss where in the hospital something might burn. “My 
room. At night, when I think about you,” she doesn’t say. But 
that might have been funny. Instead she mentions the 
incinerator in the basement.

As they’re going into the basement Bliss suddenly hesitates and 
tells Frank that she hates the dark. Um...you didn’t seem to 
have a problem with that totally dark closet earlier. What the 
hell? Or, as Frank snarkily puts it: “now you tell me?” He runs 
into Crispy Man at the bottom of the stairs and tries to be the 
big strong man who isn’t afraid of anything by calmly telling 
Bliss to stay close to him. Then they walk into another room 
and a boiler door bursts open and shoots a flame two feet in 
front of him and he practically squeals and ducks behind her. I 
don’t think that was intentional, but it amuses me to no end. 
Bliss grabs him and worriedly asks if he’s okay. He gathers 
together the remaining shreds of his manhood and says “I’m 
fine. It’s okay...just stay here.” Then he whips out the 
handkerchief again and pries the door open a little further, 
peering in to find the remains of a human skeleton. Crispy 
Man’s ghost hand shoots out at him and he bolts upright and 
backs into a piece of machinery. He creeps closer again, with 
jerking, tentative movements like maybe there’s a rattlesnake 
in there waiting to bite him and manages to extract a medical 
ID bracelet. It says, simply “Dr. Cardicott”. How convenient 
that the victim had one of those. Bliss goes into denial that 
her beloved doctor is dead. Frank is just surprised that it’s 
not Michael Johnson, as he assumed.

They go back upstairs and sneak into Martin’s office. Frank 
goes digging through desk drawers while Bliss stares at the 
nail art and babbles that she wants to take it with her since 
it was for Cardicott, not Martin. “You made that,” Frank asks. 
Christ. He *is* slow. She says yes, unfortunately, she was 
going through a “stage” at the time. Ah, yes, the 
“experimenting with swallowing sharp implements” stage. 
Perfectly normal. Martin shows up and Bliss ducks behind the 
desk with Frank, holding the plushy office chair in front of 
her like a shield. Martin asks if he can help Frank with 
something. Frank says yeah, he just wanted to ask some 
questions...uh...have you talked to Cardicott recently? Martin 
says yes, they consult on patients frequently. Frank says oh, 
well then, “next time you talk to him, could you tell him he 
left his ID bracelet down in the incinerator?” Martin blinks 
and turns like maybe if he goes out and comes back in again 
this scenario will improve. “You haven’t been easy to find, 
Michael,” Frank adds. “Because you’ve been right here in front 
of me all along.” Well, let’s be honest, that *is* really the 
best place for a person to hide from you, Frank. “Martin” 
starts making a nervous twitching gesture while Frank babbles 
that he killed the doctor, erased all records of himself, 
shaved his head and beard and forged a new identity. And since 
he had medical training, he could pass as a real doctor. 
Michael babbles that he didn’t mean to kill anyone and then 
lashes out at Frank. They fight for a while and Frank manages 
to pin him to the wall. Then Cardicott’s smoking ghost appears 
and starts sending nails from Bliss’ art piece flying into the 
wall next to Michael’s head. This serves no purpose whatsoever 
and Frank just throws Michael to the ground and cuffs him. 
Bliss is unconscious in the corner, by the way, apparently 
knocked out in the course of the struggle.

Frank finds Bliss outside some time later, getting the all-
clear from a paramedic. He says on the bright side, she can 
finally go home. She mutters that she knew he was going to 
cause trouble the moment she saw him. He says that’s one of his 
strong suits. She asks if she can call him sometime (hey, at 
least this one’s alive) and they hug. Michael is dragged by in 
a straight jacket, ranting about nails flying from the walls 
and hey, that’s the guy who sees dead people! I’m a doctor! 
He’s the crazy one! Jess and Marcus show up and Jess hugs Frank 
with an expression like “you are going to give me an ulcer, you 
know that?” She apologizes for him having to go through all of 
that. He mutters that now he has to go tell Megan that her 
fiancé is a homicidal loon. Marcus says they got a print match 
a half an hour ago: Michael was posing as Dr. Martin at two 
other hospitals. What kind of screening process do they *have*? 
Remind me to never get sick in California. He and Jess 
disappear inside and Frank watches Michael ranting in the back 
of the police car for a minute. Creepy gothic music plays and a 
crow shrieks, causing me to reach instinctively for my cap gun. 
He turns and sees Simon, standing on what appears to be a 
balcony of the hospital, a crow perched on his shoulder. Simon 
smiles evilly at him and the crow squawks annoyingly. Frank 
shrugs it off and walks down the steps out of the hospital, 
where the police car has mysteriously disappeared. I’ll let you 
sort that imagery out for yourself while I go play a couple 
rounds of “Crow Hunting”.

Note to crow lovers: I’m sure there are some times when having 
crows around is a good thing, but when you’ve watched them 
bully other birds who were just minding their own business so 
they can hog the feeder and scatter most of the seed on the 
ground you start to really hate them.

Note to PETA: bite me.