"I would like to confirm a few facts, if I may. Imogen Banks, 41 years of age. Arrived in Hearthome approximately nine years ago but before that spent time working in various hospices and hospitals around London. Quite a promising medical career for a while. What made you change your mind to become an orderly in Hearthome?" Professor Johann Schneider raised his bushy brows and peered out from over a sheaf of notes to Imogen where she sat, knuckles white and teeth closed tightly together.

"I don't understand why I am here," Imogen said slowly. "I don't like being interrogated."

"Oh no, do not misunderstand. This is no interrogation. Merely a conversation." Johann gestured to the door of the office, a genuine smile under his thick and pure white moustache. "You may leave at any moment."

"Well then, you could have told me that straight away," Imogen immediately stood up. "This is a waste of my time, this and this List nonsense." She made for the door and managed to grasp the handle before Johann's voice calmly spoke behind her.

"Nicholas Banks is your father. A multi-millionaire, owner of numerous media chains around the country. I understand it was he who pushed for your admission into Hearthome. He is a sizable donator to the upkeep and management of Hearthome after all."

"My father will find out what is going on here," Imogen sniffed, glancing back at the elderly professor. "And when he does there will be hell to pay."

"I wonder why you keep going back to your father, Imogen. You have not spoken to him face-to-face since you first started here. A few phone calls here-and-there I understand but it has been a very long time otherwise. Not since Robert Banks was found dead at the Lamplight Nursing Home." Johann's eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly as Imogen's grip dropped loosely from the door handle. "Losing a brother can be particularly tough, especially when it comes from a daughter's negligence."

"You shut your mouth right now before I shut it for you, I don't care how old you are, you freak!" Imogen spun around, took two steps towards the table and slammed her hands down in front of Johann. "How dare you insinuate something like that, how dare you! I came to Hearthome out of my own free will and with my father's grace! He is a busy man, that is why I haven't seen him in so long, so keep his name out of your mouth."

"Aha," Johann said lightly as if he had read a particularly amusing joke on his notes. "It is this anger in you, Imogen, which I hope to understand and to help you control. Anger is a particular roadblock when it comes to the List."

"I'm not one of these rotten residents and I don't give a fuck about this list!" Imogen growled. "Why is everyone telling me what to do!?"

"Who else is telling you what to do?" Johann asked with interest.

"Just… Just everyone!" Imogen spat and Johann scribbled something down in his notes. "Look, I'm just angry because I'm on edge. Wouldn't anyone be?"

"I understand. Yet there are numerous reports of violence and antagonistic behaviours throughout your tenure at Hearthome. Every time your father would talk to Theodore Hearthome and have whatever transpired swept under the rug. You seemed to always know when to tow the line, Imogen, except of course when it came to Noah Barker. That was a particularly vicious thing you did to him, Imogen."

Imogen faltered, glancing furtively around the room. "I…"

"No, no, you do not need to explain yourself to me. That particular issue will be dealt with by my friend Mr. Ryan after the events concerning the List are finished with. Understand the brief opportunity you are being given, Imogen. We can't protect you if you are locked away somewhere."

"I do not need protecting," Imogen hissed.

"Everyone is in need of some protection, Imogen, be that from friends, colleagues, or strangers. When you are involved in something like the List, protection is perhaps the only way to survive."

Imogen's emotions seemed to sink out from underneath her and her shoulders slumped. "Is this List… Is it really such a massive threat to our lives?"

"I am afraid it is, Imogen. You can either work with the others on the List or you can stand alone. Just be certain that standing alone in this situation will often end in tragedy. It is times like this when you must put aside whatever power you get from being in a position of authority and work with those you may consider beneath you. I will not judge you on how you think – I am a firm believer in the right to think what one will. Yet I will warn you on how your thoughts may affect others. Do not let your anger control you, Imogen. Think with a level head. Understand that the choices you make affect those you may not even be aware of. Make these unseen choices with a sharp mind and a keen wit else it may be your undoing." Johann placed his papers down on the table. "I think I have a good understanding of where we need to go from here, Imogen. You may leave. Go about your duties as normal and perhaps if you feel that anger fill you, take a step outside and get a breath of fresh air. A healthy mind will take you a very long way."

Johann took a sip from a fresh cup of coffee that had been delivered between conversations. "I take it I am speaking to Owen at this moment?"

"Yes." Owen nodded.

"How are you managing under these circumstances?" Johann asked.

"These… circumstances seem quite extreme, don't you think, professor?"

"Oh, please call me Johann. I prefer professor only when it is on the cover of my books," Johann chuckled heartily. "Yes, these circumstances are quite extreme but they warrant a serious rumination on the potential repercussions."

"You speak far too fancy for me."

"Apologies, I can get carried away," Johann glanced at his papers. "Can I confirm some details with you, Owen?"

Owen crossed his arms. "Sure."

"I am to understand that Oliver Cox is for lack of a better term, the prominent persona, correct?"

"Yes," Owen nodded. "And I know what you are going to ask next. Yes, I am aware of Ollie and of Oscar. Yes, I appreciate this is unusual. The doctors tell me it is particularly rare for my condition. I don't share their memories though so any questions about Ollie's past will be lost on me. I only know what I experience myself. None of us quite know how the others live although we all have an understanding of our habits."

"Yes, I have some notes on those. You tend to be present mostly in the mornings. Oscar will tend to emerge in times of hardship and emotional distress. Ollie himself will be present elsewise. Is this correct?"

"Yes although…" Owen rubbed the back of his neck. "To be honest, something's gone wrong, professor. This time of the day I'm not usually about. I can sense that Oscar has been present for nearly 24 hours and that is unprecedented. Ollie… I'm not so certain Ollie has been present since yesterday. In fact, I'm rather worried. We can usually sense when the others have been around – almost like a fifth sense but…" Owen spread his hands out in front of him. "Our rhythm has been thrown off. Oscar is more scared than he ever has been. Something bad happened last night but I don't know what."

"Perhaps we will attempt to find that out in future sessions," Johann nodded. "I do have a question, though. You had questions regarding the List for Mr. Ryan. This implies you had some sense of presence despite Oscar being the persona at the time. You tell me you don't share memories."

"It's because sometimes we can watch," Owen grinned wryly, tapping his forehead. "I wish I could explain just how our brain works, professor, but I just can't. Sometimes we are… aware… within the other persona. Other times it is as if we are sleeping. Sometimes…." Owen chewed on his bottom lip for a moment. "Sometimes I worry that I will simply disappear." He looked up at Johann. "And I worry that this is what is supposed to happen. It is strange, understanding that you are not the name the body was born with. It is… harrowing, knowing that you are simply a puzzle piece in someone else's mind."

"The good thing with puzzle pieces, Owen, is that they always fit somewhere. You are not present in someone else's mind; you are an active part of your own." Johann smiled. "I can see how much work you, Ollie, and Oscar have put into the understanding of your own mind."

"Understanding is a strong word."

"Alas, who truly understands that which cannot be understood. Now, will you be able to share what you can to Ollie should he… emerge?"

"We have a notebook we can share our thoughts with in our room," Owen nodded. "I will let him know and I hope that you can have a discussion with him should time allow." There was a long pause as Owen looked at Johann and Johann patiently waited. "Professor… Johann. What do you think happens if one of us dies?"

"Ah that is perhaps a question we best hope goes unanswered. I sadly cannot provide a suitable answer for I simply do not know. What I do know, Owen, and it goes for Oscar and Ollie as well, is that all effort will go into ensuring the safety of the three of you."

"I'm telling you professor, there were these men in masks, and somehow they are framing Conner and Conner had to run away. I don't know where he ran away to but we have to find him before they do. The guy is a great guy I don't care what anybody says. As long as it is not the full moon everything will be fine. I saw two of them. One was a little thin the other a little bigger. The one that grabbed me was strong. They took Ollie away, I saw it! Something strange is going on in Hearthome and I'm going to get to the bottom of it." Robyn finally sucked in a breath as Johann sipped his tepid coffee.

"You must leave such investigations to Mr. Ryan," Johann said slowly.

"But the men in the masks, Conner is innocent of whatever it is they are blaming him off," Robyn insisted, practically squirming in her chair.

"I understand but that is not what we are to discuss at this moment. I would like to discuss how you are dealing with the events that have unfolded?"

Robyn shrugged, her camcorder sitting on the table facing Johann. "I mean I think it's really interesting. It'll be a story to tell, right? I'm glad Noah is back. He told me all about the List before so nothing in that room was really a surprise, other than John being on a list. What's it like being on a list, professor?"

"Johann, Robyn." Johann sighed. "Being on a List can come at a great cost. Even if one was not to lose their life, they can lose things physical…" He tapped at the loose sleeve pinned at his shoulder. "Or things more intangible. It can be a strain on the mind and emotions. This is what I want to speak to you about Robyn. What I have noticed in the last five minutes is that you enjoy talking but you don't necessarily enjoy talking about you."

"That's because I've got nothing particularly interesting about me, professor." Robyn shrugged. "I always knew Hearthome was full of rich stories but these masked men they just—"

"Robyn," Johann raised a hand. "I apologise for cutting you off. You experienced something particularly upsetting when you witnessed the death of Finley Sullivan. I would like to invite you to speak about it to me, if you like. If you are uncomfortable with this then we can wait for another day."

Robyn opened her mouth and then shut it again. Her face slowly sunk in on itself as the excitement seemed to fade. "It… It wasn't a nice thing to see." When she realised Johann was waiting for her to speak more, Robyn realised with almost a sense of humour that he was using her tendency for speaking against her. This professor was smarter than he looked – and he certainly looked smart. "It's only the second time I've seen a body and the first time I actually saw it… happen. Like that."

"Did you want to talk about the first time?"

"No."

"And what about with Finley?"

"It's his… eyes, professor. I've spoken with Sullivan hundreds of times. He always made time for my chats and observations. He was always so kind, so strong, would always keep people like Banks away," Robyn spat the name. "Yet his eyes… when he was… standing there almost as if he hadn't realised what had happened… and then when he did realise it…" Robyn's shoulders shook. "He looked so scared, professor. I feel almost guilty that I just… just stood there and watched. I wonder if there was something I could have done. I know that there wouldn't be but maybe I could have comforted him or something but he just died in a pool of his own blood and he never even knew about the List or anything because Conner and I decided to play a stupid game to try and catch Banks and—" Robyn was crying now, one hand clenched on her camcorder. "…Do you think if we told him about the List that he would still be alive, professor?"

"I wish I could answer that, Robyn." Johann reached out and put a comforting hand over the smaller trembling hand over the camcorder. "The List controls fate itself and it will claim its victims if unprepared. The way you reacted is understandable and expected. Sometimes we take death for granted. Sometimes the people around us seem unaffected or perhaps strong around death. They sometimes do not see it for what it truly is – something unequivocally sad. I do not know what Finley was thinking in his last moments but I like to believe that he was comforted that he did not die alone."

Robyn sniffed. "I wish he didn't die at all."

"That is a sensible wish to have. One should never wish death on another soul." Johann nodded sadly. "Robyn, it may sound strange but I am relieved to hear of the feelings you hold within your heart. You are stronger than you give yourself credit for. I hear the way you speak of Conner Shepherd, the admiration in your voice. I think if the Conner of only four months ago knew that someone would think of him that way… well, I suspect it would be a profanity-laden speech."

"Definitely," Robyn smiled as her tears faded on her cheeks. "Have you met Conner, professor?"

"I know of Conner Shepherd but I do not like to let reputation get in the way of reality." Behind Johann's friendly gaze, a thought lingered, one the old professor did not allow to be heard. If only the poor girl knew of the reality of Conner Shepherd.

"Penelope, I would like to tell you how impressed I am with the way you have conducted yourself with the news given to you," Johann said as he finished off his third cup of coffee. Penelope sat in front of him primly with an almost curious gaze on her face. "How are you taking what has transpired?"

"I am taking it seriously as the people around me are taking it seriously," Penelope said. "I suspect men such as Jason Ryan mean it when they look as serious as they do."

"And what are your thoughts on the List?"

"I think the world is a particularly strange place that we have very little understanding of," Penelope said quietly. "Something like a List is not so out of place to cause me concern. I feel comfortable because it has rules – even if we do not know of these rules. Knowing there are survivors such as yourself and Jason Ryan and even that John, well, it confirms that survival is a very real possibility."

"That is a mature outlook, Penelope, I am glad to hear it."

"I would like to ask you a particularly tough question. Feel free to not answer. There is no pressure within this room."

"I understand. You want to ensure that each of us is either handling or will handle what will be happening healthily, correct?"

"That is indeed correct."

"Then ask away. I suspect I know what you are going to ask anyway."

"You were committed to Hearthome by your mother. The reason I have written down is suicidal tendencies to the extreme. Your mother found you multiple times with cuts across various regions of your body." Johann's voice was quiet and respectful as he spoke. "Your first year in Hearthome was spent in the cells and under protected guard when visiting doctors so as not to harm yourself."

"And you question whether all this talk of death is going to bring back old wounds, so to speak?" Penelope raised an eyebrow. "I suppose that is logical." She held up her hand where the bandages started at her wrist and disappeared below her sleeve. "I change these bandages every morning. It is a ritual. I stare at each scar and I tell myself the origins of every single one." She lightly traced a finger over the bandages in various lines. "This one I did when I was twenty-one and mother found me in the bathroom. This one I did while she was out shopping. This one I used a bed-spring I pulled from my mattress because mother locked me in my room with no sharp objects to reach." Penelope looked at Johann. "I could go on but I suspect you understand my point. Each scar is a memory and will remain on my body until my death. They are not reminders of how close I have come to death. They are reminders of how many times I have survived. Professor Schneider, I have certainly tried to kill myself in the past. I tried very hard. If I could not achieve it under my own hand, then this List does not stand a chance."

"May I ask what your reasons were? Did your reasons change?"

"I can see it in your eyes, Professor Schneider. You keep yourself very well composed and free-of-speech. You look at me and some part of you is disgusted by my actions. You believe life is sacred, do you not?"

"I do," Johann nodded, not hiding that what Penelope said was the truth. "I have long asked myself the question of what happens after death. For the longest time I studied under Buddhism and believed in the idea of reincarnation. Sadly, my experience on the List and parallel events led me to understand death a little differently from what I spent much of my life studying. I am afraid suicide is a decision that I am strongly against. One's own body is sacred."

"I agree. And what if that body was sullied, Professor Schneider?" Penelope asked quietly. "What if mother wanted her darling little daughter to go through everything mother did? What if mother didn't stop her daughter from cutting herself to save her daughter's life but rather to save the facsimile of her own life she had created within her daughter? What if you never owned your own body in the first place?" Penelope smiled sadly. "I also used to believe in the idea of reincarnation, Professor Schneider. I used to dream of waking up with a loving family, or having a scientist as a father, or having a mother who let me do what I want. I would watch the girls across the street and dream of being just like them. When I first cut myself, Professor Schneider, it wasn't to kill myself. Not that first time. It was to cut the very essence of my mother out of my body. I did not even want her blood."

Penelope stood up and bowed her head towards Johann. "My life has been bathed in blood already, Professor Schneider. This List is merely just another blockade for me to overcome. I am particularly skilled in overcoming obstacles of things that want to control my fate. I am a survivor, whether I would like to be or not. It seems I am meant for greater things than the cold dark of death." With that, Penelope left the room, leaving Johann to lean back in his chair, musing to himself on the girl with the bandages.