Once again, I'm looking at this overly pompous clock. It's half past one. Middle of the night. It's been five hours since Thomas and I arrived. If this had been any other job, we'd have been at home an hour ago. But we're still here. I sigh, averting my eyes from the clock. Time won't run any faster just because I stare it down. By now, the outside world is completely covered in black, thick fog. There is nothing we can do but wait it out.

Thomas is sitting next to me, writing in his notebook. It's a hobby of his; writing short stories, sometimes even poems. He's good, I like the things I've read in the past, though he's always reluctant about sharing his work. It's a hobby after all, and most of it is highly personal. It's a way for him to deal with his surroundings, his emotions, the turmoil. I only ever read what he shows me willingly, I'd never ask to be shown anything more personal.

The doctor is taking a nap on the couch across from ours. He's completely covered in his black cloak, resembling more a pile of black fabric than a person. But I can figure out where his head is, due to one of the long, white hair strands that has weaseled its way out of this pile of black fabric. He needs the rest. He is highly skilled in what he does, but I guess the one person he can't cure is himself.

Mrs. Lane is lying on the floor, in a stabilized position and covered by a blanket to keep her warm. I'm not sure if she's still apathetic or if she fell asleep at some point. All I know is that she isn't unconscious, it's the last thing we need now. Right next to her, Mrs. Blair is sitting in a chair. Her left arm is relaxed, reaching down, while her fingertips are touching Mrs. Lane's head ever so slightly to make sure she'll notice any movement. She's reading a book with a weathered cover; whatever she's reading, it's either very interesting or she's just staring at the pages, turning them once in a while out of habit.

The Shadow left me once we were done securing the basement. Naturally. The first time I met him I caught him off guard. I must have caught his interest at that very moment. Apparently, it is extremely unlikely to meet the Shadows. They are professionals – being caught usually leads to death for at least one of the involved people.

Yet we're both still alive. I guess, he didn't deem me a danger, and I proved him right. Ever since he made himself known when no one else was around. Granted, there was a slim chance of Mrs. Blair or Thomas hearing us talk down in the basement, but for some reason, I'm sure that the whole situation was thoroughly observed and meticulously planned by the Shadow.

So no one besides me knows of his presence, and I doubt a thief would want it any other way. And despite his personality, I know that he wouldn't risk it to make our involvement with each other known. If he were to be caught by someone else, he'd act like we've never met. I really can't stand his touchy personality, that stupid grin, the fact he just gets in my way ever so often, but he is reliable.

After all; I've met other Shadows afterward, and none of them posed a threat to me. They knew I wouldn't mention them. They knew I was just there to clean up other people's dirt, which included covering up any evidence, including stolen goods - nothing about this has changed. So they benefit from my profession. I think they always knew how to profit off any cleaner, that's why they cross my way so often. But after meeting this particular Shadow in person, they stopped hiding from me, or at least they don't try so hard anymore.

I don't know if this is a good thing or not. I don't know who operates their group or how they are organized. For all I know, they could be influenced by the Bear. In which case, he could freely spy on me without relying on a sniper who has to keep his distance and therefore has to stay out of earshot most of the time.

I lean my head back against the couch's backrest and let my eyes aimlessly wander. I see Thomas shooting a glance at me, followed by a tired smile, before he focuses back on his writing. We're stuck here together, but it seems like everyone found something to do; even unwillingly, as is the case with Mrs. Lane. But I've been just sitting here for the past ten minutes doing nothing.

Ten minutes… out of probably two hours until the fog has passed fully. That's a fucking long time with nothing to do. But the moment I leave this room I may run into the Shadow. I still owe him an answer. He didn't push me any further when we hurried through the basement, and let me leave once we were done. I must seem really tired… exhausted even. I don't really feel it. I mean, I feel the mental exhaustion but I don't feel like it shows. Then again, his whole job relies on reading people and situations.

I close my eyes, and suddenly, I feel dizzy. The kind of dizziness that overcomes the mind when sleep-deprived – which I'm not. But I'm pumped full of emotions that don't belong to me, I didn't rest well thanks to Thayer, my body is still hurting at places I didn't even know could hurt before I met Thayer, and then there's everything that has happened within these walls so far. No wonder the Shadow didn't push me any further, of all the people here he can probably read each layer of my exhaustion. Well, besides the doctor, who did give me a short check-up when I arrived back in this living room.

Just to assess my situation and my mental state. He advised me to rest, but I can't. I tried. I open my eyes; no way I can keep them closed long enough to actually fall asleep. And now I even feel like I can't keep sitting here. The dizziness persists in the back of my head. Adding to this my dislike for wide, open rooms like this one: and I suddenly feel extremely exposed.

I feel the need for a smaller environment, a more cramped room, lower ceilings, shorter walls. More security, a feeling of being safe. It's not like I'm about to overreact; if I have to I can sit it out, right here, right now. But the thing is, I don't need to sit it out. So I get up.

"Don't mind me, I just need to move a little. Stretch my legs." I look at Thomas as he looks up at me and then he nods, understanding.

"Don't get lost, we don't have a map of this place." I huff at his attempt at making a joke, I appreciate it, but I'm too overwhelmed to show it properly.

"I don't intend to, but if I do, I'm sure you'll find me." There is a flash of a tired smile on his lips. We may maintain a professional tone, simply because we're both too tired to function outside of our habits in these surroundings, but we understand each other's awful attempts to lighten the mood.

I don't even look at the others. I only catch Mrs. Blair looking up from her book in the corner of my eye as I turn towards the door. She says nothing, so I guess her attention just got drawn to movement for a moment. I leave the living room, ascending down the flights of stairs, which bring me down to the vault.

While securing the mansion, I saw more rooms than I can count, and the hallways down here are probably the narrowest of them all. Every room is unnecessarily big; I can't escape this open space no matter where I go. The best I can do is down here. So here I am, next to Constantine's gore pile that remains unmoved. The good thing is: Mr. Lane won't come back with the fog outside. And it is likely that he won't get home first thing the moment the fog has passed. He's probably sleeping somewhere else, which takes away pressure from my time schedule.

I bet he is having a good time with one of his countless other affairs. I saw Mrs. Lane's breakdown and can't help but wonder how Mr. Lane had dealt with this situation. Not that he'll ever see it. That's why I'm here; for Mr. Lane, Constantin will have vanished without a trace. There are countless dangers out there, and Mr. Lane will never know which one caught up to Constantin – if Mrs. Lane manages to keep silent, that is.

Though, even if he were to find out, it wouldn't change much for people like me. A dead body in a big mansion makes no difference to our lives. To mine, yes, because I have to clean it up, but the aftermath has nothing to do with us. The wealthy deal with tragedies every day; maybe person A overthrows person B in power, but as long as person B isn't an absolute angel concerned about our circumstances, nothing ever changes. It's another name in power. It makes all the difference in the ranks of the powerful and corrupted, but the end result for everyone below stays the same.

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And still, these people have feelings. No matter how powerful they are, they aren't just husks. They have motivations, emotions, connections; maybe they even share a special bond with someone. Someone they don't want to see hurt. Not that anyone would ever know. Important bonds stay hidden most of the time, and if they don't… Well… It's very likely that they won't survive.

I know, in some twisted, disturbing way, I am important to Thayer. It's not a secret that he has a possession, but there are only a handful of people who know it's me, and they keep quiet to keep me out of trouble. If the wrong person were to find out, I'd be in grave danger. There are a lot of shady and powerful personalities who would stop at nothing to get to Thayer. They would kill me in an instant in the hopes of rattling the mighty Bear.

I'm not his only possession, but there aren't that many who have survived as long as I have. And he never cracked under their loss. It's safe to assume that they weren't important enough. I like to think that I am different, that he would at least mourn me for a brief second, but that's just my ego talking. If he loses me, he shall realize that he lost something valuable that can't be replaced.

I don't know where this thought is coming from, but it's not the first time it has crossed my mind. Maybe it stems from a place of control. I don't want to be special, I don't want anyone to notice me, I just want to blend into the shadows, live my life as calmly as possible, but on the other hand, having significant value for another person gives me control. If my loss were hard to bear, I have something I can use to pressure Thayer. It's not what I want to do, nor do I need it right now, but there might come a point in time when all that's left for me to do is play my cards right.

There might come a time when I have to face the Bear and tell him '... or else I'll leave', in hopes that the very thought of losing me may enable me to control the situation and the outcome. But… that's all just fantasy. Wishful thinking.

"Finally came to talk to me?" I hear the Shadow's calm voice coming from inside the vault, the massive door is ajar.

"Not if you stay in there," I answer. I don't intend to get any closer to these artifacts. It's already unsettling that the vault door is open, removing a layer of protection between me and whatever is stored inside. I don't get an answer, and I can't hear anything else. There is no movement, no ruffling of clothes – there is no noise coming from inside of the vault. Either the Shadow stands perfectly still, or he knows how to move through a dangerous room without making any sound.

I know it's the latter, but imagining him just standing there, doing nothing, has an amusing aspect to the whole situation. Though, it's not enough to lighten my mood at all.

Suddenly, a weight lands on my shoulder. I tense up as I realize that this weight belongs to the Shadow's hand. I didn't hear him approach which isn't unusual, but I didn't notice his movement, and that unsettles me even further. My reflexes are faster than my brain and I turn abruptly to cut the connection between us, slipping away from the warmth of his hand.

"We really need to address this, Eon. And don't even think you can get away again." I know exactly what he means. I am acting out of character, and I feel that way too. Usually, I can deal with stressful situations well, bottle everything up until I get a chance to cleanse myself, get rid of all the emotions I carry around with me. But I am stuck here, and the longer I have to sit it out, the more urgent it will get.

"Sorry," is all I can muster for the moment while I try to collect my thoughts.

"For what?" he laughs, his voice low and calm.

"For being weird, I guess."

"Yeah, I'm not exactly the person you have to apologize to."

"Well, excuse me, but there is no one else around."

"So I'll do just fine? You break my heart, Sunshine."

"Always a pleasure."

I sigh and turn my back to the wall, slowly slipping down until I finally sit on the floor. I'm exhausted, and since I won't find any room smaller and more comfortable, I may as well sit here. To my surprise, the Shadow just slumps down next to me, with a decent distance between us. Close enough to talk, and distant enough to be just out of reach. I prefer this over him being all touchy, and he knows that.

"I…" I start, but my thoughts slip my mind. I rarely talk to others, less so about myself, about how I feel, about what's going on in my head. But there is no other way to go, is there? It's sitting here and trying to talk to this menace, or sitting in a room with other people and a clock that seems to get louder and louder with every passing second, till I can't hear my own thoughts anymore.

I let my eyes wander, there is nothing here that could catch my interest. It's just an empty hallway with a vault door not too far away from us. If I sat at the opposite wall, I could look up the stairs, look at the artificial flowers, the carpet, the oversized pictures in oversized frames. But I don't need oversized, opulent, and artificial right now – I need comfort, familiarity, a cramped room with a lot of worthless little belongings that can keep the eyes busy.

So in the end, my eyes wander over to the Shadow. His expression calm, waiting. He isn't pushing me, he's just… there. I would prefer him to not be there, but he is, and I can change a damn about it.

"The emotions stuck in the weave wore me down, I probably didn't sleep well, Mrs. Lane has been – to put it nicely – a hindrance, there is a deadly fog trapping us in here, and this whole place is just too much space and too little personality. Oh, and you're here."

"Well, I'm trapped here too, with you of all people." He sends a smirk my way, he isn't sorry one bit. He could have chosen to remain hidden, but he didn't. He actively broke his disguise to get in contact with me, and he enjoys this more than I want to admit.

"Listen," he starts, with a more serious tone in his voice, yet he remains calm and grounded. And… I listen.

"I don't really care about what you do and don't do."

"Fair enough."

"But you've become someone I can rely on during my work. You haven't snitched once and this job is lonely most of the time. I would hate if you were to, I don't know, not do your job anymore? So… If it helps, I'm here if you want to talk this out."

A huff slips over my lips, filled with amusement that's based solely on self-irony. I really don't like his touchy personality, the way how easily he can sneak up on me, the way he's too cheerful. And I don't like the way he tries to tease me. But at the same time, I can't lie. My job has become a lot less lonely since I caught him off guard.

It's not just him. I meet a lot of Shadows during my work. They don't hide anymore, which has led to a few talks. All of them absolutely meaningless, at least the content – but the fact that someone's around without getting in the way of my work has its perks. They don't interfere with my workspace; I don't need to care for them or look out for them. They're just present until they aren't. Everything falls right back into place.

I like Thomas, as I like a few other colleagues, but I'm closer to him than I am to other people. I hate to admit it openly, but I care for his well-being. I guess this adds to the pile I have to deal with at the moment. It's something that's on my mind whenever I'm on a job with him. I… I worry about him, which makes things sometimes more tiring.

With the Shadows I don't have to worry. I get to a crime scene alone, I meet one of them, we interact one way or another, we leave, and I don't really think about them anymore. They don't add to anything.

"What's the point of talking?"

He snorts amused, "Try it, you'd be surprised."

"I don't really know how to talk about… well... me, I guess."

"Do you want me to ask questions?"

I shoot him a warning glance, "I really don't." I really, really don't.

"Did it hurt?" he nods toward my neck. Well, he nods in my direction, but I know exactly what he's hinting at.

"Don't know. I was wasted beyond salvation."

"Well, I take this as a yes. No need to get that wasted otherwise."

"… You're not wrong." I resign. I can't escape his sharp eyes. He notices everything; every bruise, every cut, every shift in my demeanor, the way I move, speak, act… There's no hiding from him.

"Eon, you need a man who'll make you want to stay as conscious as possible to experience the full pleasure of two bodies exploring each other, not one that makes you want to get wasted the second you think about intimacy."

"In a city like this? Good luck."

"There's always me," he sounds way too amused for me to take him seriously. Maybe that's just his way of talking some sense into me. Sense I already have. It's not like I'm trapped in a toxic relationship without realizing it. I am painfully aware of what Thayer does to and with me and how bad it is. But I accepted this in return for his protection. I made this coldly calculated call myself.

"Mrs. Lane offered to buy me."

"You're considering it?"

"No. I don't need an older lady to shower me with money and gifts."

"So, what do you need exactly?" I look at him, not sure if I really want to answer his question. He knows about me and the Bear, that's more than anyone else knows besides Thomas. And I would like to keep it that way. And yet I'm unable to just avoid the question. The very fact that I am even considering answering him is something I hadn't expected from myself.

"Protection. I could have died the day I caught you out. I didn't by sheer dumb luck. But my job always puts me at risk of confrontation with others. I need to stay safe. I need to survive. My body is a possession for the time being, my mind is not and will never be."

There, I said it. And he stays silent, with a rare expression on his face. The expression of someone who has to seriously think about the words he just heard. A second passes, and then another one, and another one, and another... Hitting thirty seconds of silence, I stop counting.

He remains silent, but slowly gets back up, "I need to attend to something. We'll continue this talk later." And just with that, he stepped back into the vault and out of my sight. For a second, I consider shifting, just far enough to be able to take a look into the vault. But I remain seated, unmoved.

After all, all I really wanted was some quiet, and now I finally got it.