"Oh, but what about the people who care about you?" the Scarecrow asked earnestly, turning to her. "You might not know you're not yourself, but they will. They'll miss you."

The topic was nearing one to his own heart- even as he spoke, he remembered that visitation day, Dorothy sitting across from him and insisting he was sick, that there was something wrong with his brain and that Oz never existed. And true, there was that movie of their adventures, and those people in it did look an awful lot like them, but Sangamon had said it was all pretend. Though he trusted Sangamon's opinion, there were times the former strawman questioned his friend, and wondered if he actually was Hunk Howard.

But then he thought of his sleep study, the mission he and Depth Charge had been put through, all that had transpired since his arrival. He didn't have a working brain, but he refused to believe a place that forced the patients into so much hardship was actually trying to help them in any way. Dorothy was out there, and he had to help her- her, and his friends who had been 'released.' If he didn't, who would?