I haven't seen the Shadow again. It's been a week – I think – and I haven't seen or heard of him. Doc told me he had to attend a mission. With him gone our last conversation still hangs over my head without any conclusion.

I hate that, but there was a lot to keep me busy and to keep my head from dwelling on it. But it's days like this one where I can't find anything else to do but sit in this big hall, watching other people come and go, all alone with my thoughts.

I lost count of the days but each day grew colder. Winter is approaching and the sanctuary is busy gathering enough supplies to get as many people through the cold months as possible.

During my time here, I have heard the fog horn countless times and whenever the ear-deafening sound hit us, the doc or Mrs. Blair would come into my room to draw the curtains.

While I can walk and get around, I still feel my energy dropping rapidly whenever I'm up too long. The doc also advised me to not move too fast or abruptly.

I don't like being restricted in my movement but it is so much better than lying in bed all day long, unable to move at all. I prefer this. It's not ideal but a massive step forward. I click my tongue in annoyance.

Something so easy as getting around on my own two legs feels like an accomplishment now. This is such a joke.

The people depending on this place are people from all over the district. Some just need a little food at the end of the month when their earnings have run out, others are fully dependent on sleeping here, with no other place to go.

Whoever is healthy and strong enough to help contributes something. They help gather supplies, cook the meals, clean and wash the rooms, or entertain and educate the children as best as possible.

There is a little nook in the main hall, sectioned off by improvised curtains. It's a place where children of all ages gather with someone who can teach them something. They have no other ways to learn, no access to education.

This place isn't just a sanctuary, it's a community. I don't feel like I belong here. I'm leeching off of the things they dearly need to survive just because I can't provide for myself right now. And most of these people are so friendly.

I appreciate it, but at the same time, it annoys me. I… I haven't been like this before, have I? They try to include me, provide for me. They bring food to my table when they see me sitting here during eating time, they ask me about my recovery, they ask me to join their conversations, or want to share some company.

And it makes me feel anxious as if every nice thing I accept from them could come back to bite me in the ass. They don't hold it against me and this makes it even worse. I tell them off and they still care enough to look out for me.

I don't want to feel this way but I am constantly expecting them to stab me in the back. To sell me out. It hasn't happened yet but there is no guarantee Thayer or one of his goons won't show up in the near future.

I've always been cautious about whom to trust, always been vigilant, and I never liked big groups of people, let alone crowds – but it never made me so nervous to be around people.

Sometimes I flee just for Mrs. Blair to tell me yet again that I need to confront myself with such situations to not let this dread fester and grow. And I know she is right. It's the same with the emotions we absorb when cleaning the Weave at crime scenes.

It is extremely important to get rid of these unfamiliar emotions before they can plant themselves deeper and start to root. Because at some point, it becomes impossible to keep them and one's own emotions apart.

It's like a parasite. It consumes. I know that. It's just so hard sometimes. Because this fear is mine I can't just cleanse and get rid of it.

At least I'm somewhat successful in suppressing this urge to return to Thayer. My logic is winning that battle, if nothing else. But sometimes I still think about it, talking to myself like a madman split into two parts.

One part is begging to go back to the familiarity, painting perfect pictures of what could be if I just tried to fix it, make up for it, apologize, submit. The other part is calling bullshit, acknowledging that I wouldn't survive shit if I ever were to return.

It should be so easy, but… There is no proof for either situation and this makes it so extremely hard.

"How are you feeling?"

"Leave me alone," I answer without looking up.

"Good, I see." Wait a minute. I know this voice. I turn my head to look at the man who is standing in front of the table I'm sitting at, two steaming bowls of rice in his hands.

"Ash?" I sound more surprised than I intended to, but here we are. Why is he here?

"Some Shadow came by to inform Thomas of your location and well-being. So the old man asked me to come see you," he smiles at me, his appearance rugged, tired. But his eyes are telling.

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He places one bowl in front of me then he settles into the chair across from me at the table. He has lost weight since I last saw him.

"Why you of all people?" I ask, not really paying attention to the food he just brought me. But I won't stop him from eating.

"Because I've been hiding out nearby."

"Still running from the Snakes?"

"Ya, it never gets boring, you know."

"This makes two of us now, I guess."

"Yeah," he pauses to shove a spoonful of rice into his mouth, eating in peace, taking his time to not speak with his mouth full. "I heard about it, shitty situation you've got yourself into."

"Tell me about it," I sigh. He would know - probably the best of all the people. Ash is a prime example of what can happen when something goes wrong at a crime scene.

He took a high-profile job in the upper city, meddling in the Snakes' poison business – or at least that's what they thought when they returned to the scene to retrieve their belongings. They thought he was there to steal their goods and dispose of the evidence.

He's been on the run ever since. He's still working as a cleaner for the station though, just… differently.

"It's not so bad." He waves his hand as if to dismiss the seriousness of his own situation.

I wish it was that easy but he has something I don't: Experience with such situations. He's been on the run for approximately a year. I guess he just got used to his new circumstances of living and working.

"That's what you say. There is still a difference between a group of venomists like the Snakes and a crime lord like the Bear." I don’t want to downplay his situation, but it’s hard not to.

"And still they have things in common that make dealing with either easier," he says before shoving another spoon between his lips, taking his sweet time. I don't mind at all but can't bring myself to eat.

"For example?" We both sound like we're discussing stocks or the weather, but that's the normalcy I desperately longed for.

Maybe that's just a common thing about cleaners. We've seen and dealt with so much shit that most of our conversations are rather level-headed and matter-of-fact. With his mouth full he raises his hands gesturing into the room, as if to present this place to an audience, the audience that is me.

Only once he swallows his food he answers, "Scarlet. They both can't do shit in her territory. Though the Snakes do try it occasionally."

"So that's where you've been hiding out," I huff. It's ironic, isn't it? Getting away from one dangerous entity while hiding in the shadow of another.

"Wish it were that easy."

"Oh?" Now he piqued my interest. I'm in a situation here, and I'm no fool, I know a person who can give me valuable information to improve my own situation if I see one. And Ash is such a person.

He snorts as he picks up on my interest. He can read me well but I wouldn't expect anything else from one of the people who contributed most to my training back when I was just a rookie.

"This is not for you, Eon. You don't swing that way." Now he laughs, his voice raspy due to the cold. It's a lot warmer inside this factory than outside thanks to the big boilers and heating bodies, but it is still not warm.

"Don't tell me…" No, he didn't. Did he? He did. What an idiot.

"That I became an obsession? That's exactly what I'm saying," he confirms and I can't help but eye him up and down, searching for… I don't know. Marks? Bruises? Cuts? Anything, really. I know there is a difference between being a man's possession and a woman's obsession, but it's Scarlet we're talking about.

However, he is tightly wrapped up in warm clothes. If it wasn't for eating, even half of his face would be covered by the thick, old wool scarf around his neck to keep his nose and cheeks warm.

"I did not expect that," I have to admit.

"It's not that bad. Scarlet is quite the skilled lover, to be fair."

"So was the Bear."

He snorts again and looks me dead in the eyes, "The Bear is an abuser, not a lover, Eon. Don't get that mixed up. I don't really know what your relationship looked like, but I know what happened," he points towards my stomach and I can't help but glance down for a second. "No lover does that, kiddo."

I have heard similar words before. Even before all this happened. By someone I haven't seen in a while. Was it so obvious, I wonder? Was what I endured the past years hinting at something I should have expected to happen?

My eyes settle on my untouched rice bowl. It's just rice with nothing. The only thing this place can afford. I sigh and pull the bowl closer to me, sinking the spoon into it.

"Thanks," I mumble. I'm not ungrateful, not if people give me something or care for me in some way, even if I tend to send them away. But I can't deny them my please and thank you, especially not if it's Ash or other people I already know.

The rice tastes like nothing much; someone made an effort to squeeze out whatever was left in some thrown-out herbs. It's enough for a hint of something, but not enough to form a proper taste. But it fills the stomach and that's the only thing that counts, especially during winter.

"How are things at the station?" I ask, intentionally changing the topic. I've been so overwhelmed by my situation that it has rarely crossed my mind. Thomas must have been sick of worry.

And here I was, not even thinking about him much. No wonder I don't have friends… I'm a terrible friend to have, am I not?

"Well, you know, things must go on. They suspended Mr. Morell. Seems like they can't really decide what to do with him as long as they don't know how you are doing."

"They wait it out in hopes I'll file a report eventually."

"It's the only thing they can really do, you know. They could just fire him but cleaners are rare. They need the whole picture to assess the situation and make the right call," he answers calmly, a little bit lost in thoughts by the sound of his voice.

"Tell me about it, I remember the complexity of what has happened to you. It was pure chaos," I sigh, eating only small portions to keep my mouth focused on the conversation. I don't feel hungry anyway but I know I must eat.

"It's never easy. And no matter how many protocols the Arch rolls our way, if something happens none of these mighty protocols cover a situation from start to finish."

"A wonder they even give us protocols to begin with," I huff. It's a joke if I think about it. At times it seems like they couldn't care less but they know we are important. The job we do can't be done by everyone so they have to care on a personal level.

But all they ever do is hand out protocols to follow after something happens, so we can act accordingly the next time. But next time it will be different. It always will.

"Ah, one fine day something will happen that fits one of these protocols to a tea," he snorts, stuffing another spoonful of rice into his mouth.