Sitting all alone in this hallway with my back against the wall, I must have dozed off at some point. Just as I open my eyes, I know time has passed. But I don't feel like I slept. I just closed my eyes for a moment, opened them again, and an hour or so had just passed. I'm not experiencing this lingering feeling of rest, nor the sensation of waking up.

It was bound to happen but I am a little surprised that I actually managed to rest, even if I don't feel like I rested at all. I guess exhaustion just knocked me out without me realizing it. I let my eyes wander; the hallway is as empty as can be, the door vault is ajar just enough for me to notice that it isn't closed shut, and Constantin still hasn't moved.

I mean, thank fucking god he didn't. The last thing I want to happen is a pile of blood, flesh, and tissue suddenly getting up and walking away. It's not like that's completely impossible to happen, so I hope Constantin remains exactly where he is until I get around to getting rid of him.

I groan, feeling the pressure in the back of my head growing ever stronger. My own emotions don't mix well with the chaos I had absorbed, and now that I'm awake and fully conscious again, I can't ignore it anymore. Dragging the emotions of other people around is dangerous the longer it lasts. Strong emotions, like the guilt I found in the weave, can grow and start to consume on my own, smaller emotions.

Not having a lot of emotions helps at the beginning; there is a lot of room for these emotions to grow. But the downside is; once they pass a certain threshold the impact can hit double. It's similar to a fire. The less there is to burn in close proximity, the longer it can be kept under control. But once it reaches things to feed on it grows rapidly, and becomes hard to control.

I still have control, I can still distinguish between my own emotions and the ones that don't belong. But I feel them growing slowly, my head is throbbing with a building headache. They are filling the empty space I provided – and once that space is filled, they will jump over onto my own emotions.

"You still there?" I only muster to mumble under my breath. Oh, I wish I still had the energy I had this morning. I was absolutely wasted, my head hurt as did my body, my vision was impacted – But I was still feeling good enough to curse and swear. Right now even that spirit has gone.

"As present as the fog." I hear the Shadow's way too carefree voice coming from within the vault. Well... What did I expect? It's not like he can go anywhere, and the vault is probably the one place none of the others want to see right now, so he has free movement down here unless Mrs. Lane gets back to her strength to actually move. Hm… Maybe she has. I wouldn't know, would I? I've been sitting here for approximately an hour. I hope Thomas doesn't worry too much.

"The Doc came to check on you."

"Oh?" I hate how my voice breaks with the smallest sound. I'm sure my eyes are wide open, but my vision feels impaired somehow. Like… I'm unable to view the whole picture. Darkness surrounds the corners of my eyes, narrowing my field of view. It's the headache, I know that much.

"Isn't it annoying to open and shut the vault door again and again?" I try to keep focus despite my head, try to talk in hopes it distracts me from the throbbing.

"I don't have to. The Doc isn't someone I need to hide from." He sounds like he's talking about the weather. Despite everything he's in a good mood. I can't relate.

"I don't know what I expected, but makes sense."

"It does, doesn't it? You sound terrible, by the way."

"That makes sense, too."

Silence. I close my eyes. Get your shit together. It's not that bad, Eon. It's not. You've dealt with worse; every night with Thayer, for example. So pull yourself together.

"Here. It should help suppress it a little longer. I told him you'll probably not take it if it comes from me but I figured I'll try it anyway."

I open my eyes and I am confronted with a small glass vial. Once again he moved without any sound, got even close enough to hold the ointment right under my nose. I hesitate, my eyes wander, follow his arm all the way up till I finally reach his face. The darkness spreads, it gets harder and harder to follow my surroundings; I need pointers to direct my gaze, to find what I want to look at.

For a moment, I just look at him. Cautious, suspicious even, but a stinging pain in my head tells me that whatever he's offering me: It can't get any worse. He wouldn't want me to die so it's probably not poison, and everything else would be better than what I am experiencing right now.

"If you need help, just tell me," I hear his smug grin, not even the pain could cancel it out, "I'm quite good at force-feeding others."

"It sounds neither appetizing nor erotic, so I decline. Thank you very much." With that I take the vial from his hand and open it, downing the content without a second thought.

"You don't even know what 'erotic' means, Sunshine."

"This again…"

"Again? I think we engage far too little in steamy conversations."

"You mean never."

"That's what I'm saying."

I shake my head just slightly and close the vial before I slip it into one of my suit's pockets. Knowing the doc, it should work fast and if it doesn't my headspace is probably worse than expected.

"You know," I rest my head back on the wall, closing my eyes again. It somehow helps to focus and navigate the pain, "if you want to fuck me all you have to do is ask. It's not like the Bear and I are exclusive." My words are dry, drained even. I have no energy to deal with that flirty tone of his. If there's something he wants, I'd prefer if he'd just outright say it. It would make everything easier.

I hear him snort, trying to suppress a burst of laughter, but he fails. The deep bass of his voice reminds me of the scanner sphere. I can hear the vibration clearly, and it's soothing. I hate it, but it puts me at ease for the same reason the sphere does. Also, the ointment seems to be effective. It's working slowly, but my headache at least has stopped getting worse.

"Thanks for the offer, but I fear I have to decline."

"Then you may as well stop teasing me with it."

"That's not going to happen."

"Why?"

Silence once again. I have a suspicion that he's gone the moment I open my eyes, so I keep them shut a little longer. Not that I try to hold on to his presence, I couldn't care less, but talking seems to help ease the pain. It takes my mind off the pain and it helps me navigate my own emotions, assisting me in keeping this line between them and the intruders.

If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

"Because," that's too close! I open my eyes just to meet the dark eyes of the Shadow. How can such a big man be so completely silent? Forget silent – how is not even one of his movements casting any gush of wind? How can he get so extremely close to me without me noticing anything, not even a shift in temperature? I don't even feel his breath on my skin even though he can't possibly get any closer to my face without touching it.

"It's only fun if you want me." His arm is resting on the wall right next to my head, preventing him from tipping over. I realize he squatted down right next to me; if he wanted to he could crush me between the wall and his weight any time and there is nothing I could do to prevent it.

"Are you trying to get on my nerves till I falter and jump at you, all heated and impatient?"

"Maybe? Or maybe I just want you to enjoy normal, self-exploring banter once in a while."

"I'm not drunk enough for this."

"See, that's the problem. You shouldn't even consider being drunk for this."

"Yeah, I got the memo the first time, no need to repeat it." I huff, and maybe I sound a little more defensive than I plan to. Who does he even think he is? A suspicion crawls up my spine, one I can't ignore.

He has spent an awful long time in the vault, exposed to all sorts of artifacts. Maybe it's not him talking, maybe it's their influence. Mrs. Lane is up on the second floor and still under the influence if nothing has changed since I left the living room. There is no way I could ignore this possibility.

"Tell me, truly, why are you here?" I've asked him before and I let him get away with his avoiding answer, but he gives me reason for concern. My well-being could be threatened. Right now. Right here.

"Didn't I tell you my secrets are mine to keep?"

"And I tell you that I don't trust your reasoning right now. There is nothing that guarantees my safety. Hells, if you tip over I'm mush."

"That's a little overdramatic, no? I have perfect balance, Sunshine. But," I feel like he is trying to look in my soul, trying to expose everything I keep bottled up, but then he finally gets up. I take a deep breath, not realizing how my breathing has become tense and flat due to the closeness I just had to endure.

"if you really need to know: The Lanes store a cypher and that's what I'm here for." I raise an eyebrow but lower it the second I feel a pinch in my head. The ointment is helping to slowly but surely push other emotions back, but the headache persists.

"Is it still functional?"

"Very much so. Neat little artifact, messed with the lady quite a bit."

"Is it messing with you right now?" I look up at him, my vision is still impaired but it stopped deteriorating. If anything, the darkness started to fade. I still try not to move much and I especially try to keep my eye movements slow and steady.

"If you're asking me if my behavior just now is determined by the artifact, then no." This answer should put me at ease, but it doesn't.

"But in other aspects yes?"

"Maybe." He shrugs, with not a care in the world. Of course, he is used to dealing with artifacts, but cyphers are rare for a reason. The arch destroyed most of them upon finding them. They are deemed too dangerous, too unpredictable. Once granted entry to a human mind, they can rewrite feelings, emotions, perceptions, and if no one deals with the mess right away they can technically reprogram the whole personality.

What happens if a cypher is interrupted in the middle of the rewriting process? Could this mean Mrs. Lane will never find back to her old self? Is she stuck in a state between two versions of herself? I lower my gaze as I get lost in thought.

Artifacts often want to be in circulation. They aren't sentient beings, but they have a purpose and the desire to fulfill that purpose. The longer artifacts aren't used, the less stable they become. It's like an energy source that has to be used or else it overloads. Maybe that's what happened.

Mrs. Lane and Constantin were down here, near the vault. The artifact, unstable for a while, overloaded and caught Constantin in its radius despite being locked up behind reinforced walls and a heavy, magic-infused vault door. Constantin tried to get into the vault, but Mrs. Lane managed to get through to him.

She led him up into the entry hall, all the while the artifact was rewriting his emotions. Is this also where the guilt stems from? Guilt not towards Mrs. Lane but a direct response to the signal sent by the artifact? It wanted out of this vault, it wanted to be back in circulation; back in use. It wanted to fulfill its purpose. Constantin just happened to be the one it could reach out to.

He felt guilty about leaving it behind, so he stormed back to the vault trying to get to the artifact and then the overload of the artifact likely led to the explosion. He didn't explode, he was caught in it. The cypher rewrote too much too fast. The weave surrounding Constantin couldn't carry it anymore and combusted, leading to an outwards explosion to prevent the weave from being damaged.

I close my eyes again. This doesn't help. It makes sense, but it is worse than I expected.

"Figured it out?" He must have watched me, how my eyes followed the path the victim likely took.

"Maybe. Not that it matters what exactly happened anyway, that's not my job. But the very fact that the cypher is still around rubs me the wrong way."

"It's silent. At least now. It was a little annoying to deal with it at first, but I believe it understands that it's technically on its way out."

"I hope so. Where will it go?"

"Overseas."

"Good. Good…" I needed at least one piece of good news today, this may serve as such. If it's out of the vault it at least is out of the vault in another city once the fog has set.

"There's also a dreamweaver and at least five whisperstones, and a bunch of weaker artifacts."

"Well, that's just great." It can't get any better than that, can it now? Luckily, artifacts don't mix well. But their influence can make any situation chaotic.

"I know, right? It's exciting."

"It's not. How can you be so good-humored?"

"Sunshine, I deal with artifacts daily. If you know how to handle them they aren't that dangerous. Look at your little sphere-helper."

"That's different. The scanner is altered by the arch."

"It's still an artifact. A well-behaving one, but you know that thing could scan you down to the bones, exposing all your deepest thoughts and feelings. You're just used to handling it."

I sigh, he has a point. Not all artifacts are stored away or destroyed. Some of them have their use and do their work just fine. I've got so used to the sphere that I don't even hesitate to use it – I even fail to consider it an artifact despite knowing better. It's an extremely useful tool, one I would use more often if it wasn't for its weight. Then again, I am trained to handle certain artifacts.

Some artifacts are used by the arch to invent new, useful things. Take the communicators, for example. Whisperstones are a huge part of their development. But I don't know how I feel about raw whisperstones just lying around. They could catch and store any conversation at any given time. And who knows who'll hear them in the future.

"You're planning on taking the whisperstones with you?" I have to ask, we're probably too close to them, they could have recorded every word exchanged.

"No, but don't trouble that pretty head of yours. I'll reset them before I leave."

"How even?"

"That I will keep to myself. I told you enough already."

"Fair enough. I'll go back upstairs." With that said I try to get up. Sitting calmly with my head resting against the wall helped with my headache. But now that I move I feel the pressure return, the sting that hits me from both sides of my head, and I can't help but groan a little, ready to slump back down.

But I don't. Instead, I see the Shadow shift in the corner of my eyes, for once I catch his silent movement that brings him closer to me. I feel his hand on my upper arm, pulling me back up on my feet. It seems so casual, like a reflex, a habit, but I feel how he gives in to my own strength. He's not forcing me to get up, he is assisting me. He isn't pulling me up without a second thought, no, he pauses the moment I falter, lets me gather my strength, waits for me before assisting me further.

He is extremely cautious to not overwhelm me with sudden movement. He is considerate in a way I am not used to. Thayer has a habit of just pushing and pulling me around, throwing me against walls and other surfaces, and if I can't move anymore he'll just reposition me wherever, like the object I am in his eyes.

I… prefer being tossed around, to be fair. I'm used to it, I'm used to being handled with aggression and anger. But I don't know how to deal with whatever this is. I like control, I am in control right now – if I just decided to slump back down, the Shadow would follow my decision, making sure I don't hit my head on the wall on my way back down – and yet I don't know how to deal with this kind of control.

What takes just a few seconds feels like a never-ending moment; but finally, I stand, pressing my forehead against the palm of my hand in hopes it helps to get the headache under control. "Thanks…" I mumble under my breath, but the moment I lower my hand and look up, he's gone. Once again, just like that.