Author's note: unlike Dawn, I have put some research into anger. Everything in this chapter is true, albeit somewhat simplified.

It is also true that schizophrenics do not, in general, experience prolonged periods of mania. That is one of the ways to differentiate between bipolar disorder and schizophrenia, because schizophrenics are usually depressive whereas bipolar people alternate between mania and depression. Dawn has the rapid speech, flitting thoughts and general restlessness of mania, though.

But I digress. On with the reading! (And the reviewing and the recommending...)

~*~

Dawn had never put a great deal of research into the workings of the human mind. She was, at heart, a scientist, someone who studied the workings of the world around her. It made more sense to her than what happens in people's brains, which often had no explanation.

She had, of course, found out as much as she could about what could possibly make her think the things she did. But that had led Dawn to investigate schizophrenia and bipolar disorder and other mental afflictions of that ilk. Dawn hadn't put any effort into learning how anger affected someone's thought processes.

Dawn could tell you about the history and mythology of anger - that the Greek goddess Lyssa was the embodiment of the kind of anger associated with rabies, and, ironically, mania as well. Unlike most schizophrenics, whose moods tended towards depressive, Dawn was more symptomatic of the manic episodes of bipolar disorder. It was that which so often left Dawn unable to sleep.

Dawn could tell you that Wrath, one of Christianity's Seven Deadly Sins, was the only one that wasn't directed inwards. While you could, of course, be angry at yourself, people were far more likely to direct their anger onto something outside themselves. Whereas Sloth, for example, could never be projected outwards.

Dawn found that it was only a short step from the racing thoughts and rapid speech that were symptoms of her mania to a deep, abiding anger. Not an anger at anything in particular, just a general, diffuse kind of rage. Unlike the melancholy thoughts that Dawn frequently suffered, or the guilt that she heaped upon herself, this anger wasn't directed at her. It was rather refreshing, actually.

Dawn didn't know that people with an angry temperament were usually more optimistic than more timid people. Angry people were also generally respected more and treated as authority figures. But had Dawn known this, it wouldn't have changed anything. It might even set her more firmly on her course. Optimism was good - definitely better than the bitter cynicism that she was usually plagued with. And if it made her more outgoing as well, so much the better. Dawn had wanted to learn to trust people other than Claudia and Buffy - like the tentative trust that she had come to feel for Myka, after Myka had broken into her room and calmed her down.

Dawn chose her path.

~*~

Claudia discovered that, while chasing after a dangerous man such as MacPherson, it was important to remember that he would also go after you.

And your family.

Myka, unfortunately, discovered that too late. MacPherson had sent her father an artefact, a dangerous journal that was slowly killing him - unless Pete and Myka could find the other half of the artefact. It turned out that artefacts could come in two distinct but linked objects. Artie called them bifurcated artefacts. This particular pair consisted of Edgar Allan Poe's pen and his notebook.

Claudia was ridiculously relieved that Joshua was safe in Geneva. Not even MacPherson could get to him at CERN.

While simultaneously feeling this relief and hoping that Myka's father would be alright, Claudia began to wonder something.

Myka's father ran a bookshop. That wasn't the kind of occupation that someone would choose unless they had a strong affection for the written word. MacPherson had sent him an artefact book. The book had reacted to him.

Claudia knew that artefacts could be choosy about who could use them. Most could be used by anyone, but there were some that could only be used by people of a certain nature. Like bibliophiles.

That implied that artefacts had some kind of sentience.

Dawn, however, had an aura that reacted oddly to artefacts, making them react in unforeseen ways. Just like she had reacted to the mirror.

Claudia imagined it like an equation. Dawn + semi-sentient artefact =?

It had seemed as though the extent of the mirror's reaction to Dawn had been to put Myka back in her body and trap Alice Liddell again. But what if it hadn't? What if something else had happened too?

If something went into the mirror, something had to come out. Which was why Myka and Alice had swapped places.

Claudia didn't know, of course, that Dawn had also seen herself reflected in the mirror. No one else had. But it made sense. If Myka, Alice and Dawn were the only parts of the equation, then it seemed illogical that one part (Dawn) would be unchanged.

But if Claudia added the artefact into the mix, taking into account its semi-sentient nature...

Alice and Myka had swapped. That was simple enough. Which left Dawn and the mirror.

Dawn's aura, according to Leena, could make artefacts react in ways that they weren't supposed to. For example, instead of swapping something inside the mirror for something outside, it could be that someone outside the mirror (Dawn) had swapped with the mirror itself.

It was just a hunch, of course. But it explained why Claudia had felt as though there was something off about Dawn for the past few days. It explained the mirror writing, too.

Claudia couldn't tell Dawn. If she was right, and Dawn wasn't Dawn, then there was no telling how she might react. And if Claudia was wrong, Dawn would doubtlessly take it as further confirmation of her lack of existence, which could potentially be just as bad.

Claudia wanted to share her hunch with someone, though. Unfortunately, with Myka in Colorado with her father, Pete off hunting for Poe's pen, Artie brooding about MacPherson and Leena trying to stop him from doing so, Claudia could tell that she'd just be in the way.

What Claudia really needed to do was find a way to prove the hunch. Fortunately, she thought that she knew a way to do just that.

~*~

The problem with hunches is that it is impossible to see how they'll turn out. There was every chance that Claudia's hunch was wrong, and attempting to act on it might make everything worse. There was simply no way to tell.

Except, of course, that there was. The Warehouse was simply full of artefacts that could be useful in this situation, but Claudia was thinking of one in particular. The Jubilee Grand Casino chip allowed the user to see glimpses into the future. Ironically, it was the very same artefact that Alice had tried to steal before being returned to the mirror.

So, while everyone else was busy with the latest crisis, Claudia went to go and find it.