And the ghosts in the attic,

They never quite leave

And of course I forgive

You've seen how I live

I've got darkness and fears to appease

(Vienna Teng – Eric's Song)

"So, I have noticed," Cassandra remarked as they walked up the secret corridor under the Mycenae palace, "that Colonel Baird hasn't spoken a word to you ever since she got back."

"To be fair, she doesn't speak much to anyone these days, but she seems to exclude Stone here specifically," Ezekiel added.

Jacob just huffed and walked on. He had expected Eve having trouble dealing with Flynn's death. He knew she would probably hate him for seeing her in her weakest moment. He just didn't expect her to hate him so much. She wouldn't look at him, she wouldn't talk to him, she wouldn't even mention his name unless it was unavoidable.

And things were even worse. Ever since they brought her back from the stone five weeks ago, she hadn't left the Library. She had sent them on every mission alone, barely even providing strategy tips. Barely caring about them coming back.

Like she was still a stone.

The three Librarians walked to the Greek sun and through a supply closet door in the tourist office back to the Library.

"Water from the River Lethe," Ezekiel announced, waving the small ceramic amphora around. "One drink and you forget all your life."

Jenkins rushed to take the amphora from his hands, while Eve's head shot up. For the first time in weeks, there was a look of interest on her face. Jacob didn't miss it and he knew what it meant.

Later that night Eve Baird sneaked through the Library to a glass case, where she took a small ceramic amphora. She looked around, took two large gulps from it and waited. Nothing happened. A look of confusion crossed her face before she saw a reflection in the glass case.

"It's just water," said Jacob. "I switched it."

"Where is the right one?" Eve asked. There was a veiled threat in her voice, one that Jacob easily noticed.

"I am not telling you, until you give me a good reason," he replied.

"Jacob, please," she begged and for a moment he was tempted to give her everything she asked for. "I want to forget. The pain is too much."

"People lose people, that's life. You know it better than anybody."

"Not him. Not like this. He wasn't supposed to be killed by something this stupid... He was supposed to die saving the world, to go out with a bang." He could see her fighting the tears she was determined not to shed again.

"Eve, you are a soldier. You must have lost people close to you before," Jacob whispered.

"Not someone I l..." The word stuck in her throat. "Just give me the water."

"No."

"I can't go through this again! I have lost people before, I have lost too many. I want to forget it all, I want them to be gone!" she yelled. "You don't understand, you don't know!"

"The woman I love died in my arms! Mabel died in my arms! I know how it feels!" he shouted back. Hell, he wanted to be kind and understanding, but the heartbreak of watching her being trapped in 1611 was too fresh for him to keep a level head.

"You know jack! Where is the water?"

"I'm not letting you throw everything away. You're not killing yourself tonight."

"I'm not committing a suicide, I want to forget, that's all. Give me the water."

"Your experience, all the bad, and all the good, that's what makes you Eve Baird. Forget it all and you cease to be you. You die. And that's not happening on my watch."

"It's not your decision to make!"

He gave her a small sad smile. "You're right. But I'm making it anyway."

She lunged at him. He trained with her for hours and could keep his ground pretty well, but she had years and years of experience, combined with fury and desperation. He was proud that it took her whole five minutes to pin him to the ground.

"Where is it?"

"Each minute you're giving me more reasons not to tell you."

She punched him.

"Where is it?"

"Not where you can reach it."

Another punch.

"Where is it?"

"You can beat me to a pulp, I still won't tell you, sweetheart."

Punch. This time he heard his nose break.

For a split of a second she looked horrified. She looked at her fist like it was a nuclear bomb. Then she stood up and walked away. Jacob smiled through the pain, because he managed to make her angry. Anger was good. It was an emotional response, which was more than what they had been getting these past weeks.

Jacob refused any magical healing and walked in the Annex next morning with his face bruised and swollen. Eve actually looked at him when she heard the gasps, winced and looked away. Again, a progress compared to the weeks of utter ignorance.

"Jake, what happened?" Cassandra squeaked. "Did someone attack you?"

"I got into a fight..." he hesitated, unsure what to reveal. "With a stone statue," he added at last.

"What?" Ezekiel raised his eyebrows and Jacob could almost hear the days of teasing that were coming.

"I knocked it over and it fell straight in my face. It had this interesting symbols..."

Ezekiel rolled his eyes. "Man, one day your nerdiness is going to kill you."

"I'm not a nerd, I just love beautiful things!" Stone defended himself. "Even when they are a bit worse for wear."

"What?" said Cassandra and Ezekiel in unison.

Luckily he was saved by the Clippings Book. They all walked over to look at the new case and Eve joined them this time. Only she was careful to keep her skinned knuckles in her pockets.

One evening he found her searching his apartment.

"You're not going to find it there."

She turned around and dropped the pants she was holding. She was mortified and it was good. It was an emotion.

"Sorry about your nose," she muttered.

That had happened a week ago and Jacob had finally agreed to let Jenkins use some potion on him, so his face was almost back to normal.

"It was my fault too," he said. "You're wasting your time, it's not here. Let's sit down," he gestured to the kitchen.

Eve gingerly accepted his invitation. He offered her something to drink, but she shook her head, so he sat at the table and looked at her.

"Why are you doing this?" she asked.

He shrugged. "Because I still believe you can heal. Properly, on your own, without any magic. I know it's one hell of a fight, but I'm not letting you shoot yourself in the leg. Because you can win this."

"Give me a good reason," she challenged him.

"I have lost you twice," he confessed. "I don't think in this case third time is a charm."

She looked down at her hands. "You're a selfish, hypocritical prick, Jacob Stone," she said finally, her voice getting louder with every word. "You keep telling me how I should get over my loss, but here you are, treating me like I'm a naughty child because you don't want to lose me. You know what? Go to hell!"

With that she stormed off and Jacob stared at her empty chair, the echo of the slammed door still lingering in the air.

Could she be right? Was he a selfish hypocrite who wouldn't let her find peace because of his own petty desires? He thought he was saving her, but maybe he was just afraid of letting her go.

He walked over to the shelf and grabbed a bottle of whiskey. It was no water from Lethe, but it also helped with forgetting.

He came to the Annex the next morning with a first-class hangover, but judging by Eve's bloodshot eyes and pallor, he wasn't the only one. Cassandra tiptoed around them all day and Ezekiel's jokes resulted in Eve sending him to clean the Schrodinger's cat litterbox.

Annoyed was good. It was an emotion.

But Jacob was still haunted by the conversation from the last night. Should he tell her where he put the water? Was he a bad person to keep it from her?

In the evening, when his head cleared a little, he made his decision.