Having stayed in his room for several hours, Fletcher had gotten antsy. He'd decided to take a walk around the facility and look around, and lo and behold what did he find but some pretty gardens. He crouched down next to a patch of flowers to look at them, suddenly wistful again.
What kind of life did he have before getting sick? Maybe he had a garden at home, too... Maybe his mother and father had helped him grow it, or maybe Russel did. That seemed reasonable, but he didn't want to assume anything. But then he had to wonder whether his family was the same as he dreamed them; what if he didn't even have a brother, really? And what if his parents were still dead, or what if they were mean? What if he still wasn't allowed to use alchemy?
Alchemy... Was he even really an alchemist? It's not like it was common for kids his age to be very good at alchemy. What if that was just part of the dream? Idly, he traced out a transmutation circle in the dirt -- nothing that would harm the flowers, just one that would make them grow a little taller. He was nervous doing so; the staff didn't say anything about it not being allowed, but instinctively he wondered, What if Brother finds out? But if he just did it this one time, to find out if he could, and then didn't do it any more it should be fine...
Nothing happened when he tries to activate the circle. He wiped it out and tried another, with the same lack of result. Nothing. So he wasn't an alchemist, or the circles he remembered from his dream were wrong, or... or alchemy itself wasn't real. No one else had said anything about it on those communication devices. What if that had just been a figment of his imagination, too?
He didn't want to, not out in public like this, but Fletcher sniffled, and hiccupped, and started to cry silently.