The sound of the ping was universal. A sound you'd find anywhere in the world. The sound of businesses and apartments alike, of warehouses and venues. Noah looked around the strange box his mind had created for him in this dream. Just like the others, he knew what it was, but couldn't quite put his finger on what he was supposed to be doing in the waking world. Noah looked to the source of the ping – it was a single elevator that emerged from the heavens, lowering down as it landed inside the box.

When the doors opened, a girl walked out. A girl with dark skin and bright purple eyes.

"Hello," Noah offered carefully. He didn't particularly feel scared of her, strangely. She looked familiar, not so familiar as family, but there was something about her.

The girl suddenly burst into tears, startling Noah. Her hands went to her eyes as she sobbed, tears rolling between her fingers.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Noah said fruitlessly.

"It's okay, she's a crybaby." There was another ping and Noah turned around. Emerging from another elevator was an exact copy of the crying dark-skinned girl, only this one looked more strong in her step, more confident. "Don't apologise. It's her job."

"Who are you?"

"You know who we are."

"I don't." Noah rubbed his head. When he pulled his hand away he was surprised to see his hand dripping blood but there was no visible injury or pain.

"Hands stained with blood. That's poetic." A third voice. Noah spun around to a third elevator and a third copy of the dark-skinned girl. "You don't have to answer any questions Noah." The third figure walked across the room and knelt down next to the crying girl. "It's okay. Get it out. It's good for you. You won't have to worry about it soon."

The second girl touched Noah's arm and Noah spun around as if he had been shocked. As he looked at the girl, blood dripped beneath her braids, pooling at her feet. "Stop trying, Noah. You don't need to try." The girl smiled and for a moment Noah felt like he knew exactly who she was, but he felt a tug at his mind.

Noah awoke and knew instantly that this time this was no simple bad dream. This had been one of the clues, just like Doctor Evans and Sullivan but the strange thing was… Noah felt like it didn't make any sense for Imogen Banks. The three versions of the girls, the way they spoke, it all matched Ollie rather than Banks. Yet Ollie was after Banks on the List and Noah had not received a vision for Banks yet. Was it possible he had somehow missed it? Jason had said she had been missing the last couple of days but… no, he couldn't have missed something as significant as that.

Unless it was a choice to forget. After all she did to you, why would you want to save her?

The unneeded voice unnerved Noah. After all, with his memories struggling with the presence of the dark-skinned girl, what else was his memories struggling with?

It didn't matter. The clue had to be for Ollie and Noah had to get to him before anything happened. He needed to start taking the List seriously and save those that he could.

Owen yawned, leaning against the railing of the stairway. He did not understand why he was so exhausted, it felt like he hadn't slept at all. Rings were growing around his eyes, his mind was foggy with exhaustion, and his muscles were aching, but he couldn't get back to sleep once he had woken up. Instead he decided to head to the cafeteria, get some breakfast, something that would give him a lot of energy.

As he stood in front of it, the old elevator doors pinged in front of him. Owen was too tired to be surprised, but it was extremely unusual for the elevator's to be used. Often they were used by staff who were forcibly taking residents back to their rooms or by some of the physically older patients. The elevator was designed like an old fashioned one, with a metal grating in front that peered into the lift-shaft itself. The elevator was pulled by a steel cable and as Owen rested on the railing, he watched the square box come to a stop and the doors open.

"Good morning, Owen," Penelope greeted with a nod of her head.

"Oh, good morning," Owen raised a hand in greeting. "Too early for the stairs?"

"I like to make sure this is working every so often, just in case of emergency," Penelope said with a smile. She stroked the metal grating with a finger. "Although the second floor doors have a habit of staying stuck open after it goes down." On cue, the elevator rattled as it moved down and the grating stayed open. "I do tell the orderlies but it seems this is not a priority. Ah, well." Penelope looked back to Owen. "Anyway, how are you? You look positively exhausted."

"I am," Owen admitted. "Not been sleeping very well lately."

"Have you had much sign of Ollie?" Penelope asked.

"No," Owen sighed. "Still absent. It's frustrating. I can tell Oscar is frustrated as well. But we can't do too much about it so we take it day-by-day, like usual."

"That's a good attitude to have," Penelope reached out and patted Owen on the shoulder. "Let's have lunch today. I know I've been talking to Noah and Robyn a lot. I think I've drained them of all the information they've got," Penelope chuckled slightly. "You up for that?"

"That would be nice," Owen admitted.

"I'll see you then," with a small wave, Penelope left down the corridor. It occurred to Owen for a moment that he could see the flesh of her wrist, something he had never seen before. He realised that it made sense why she was using the elevator. It wasn't because she was 'checking' it, it must have been because she didn't want to be seen without her bandages and was embarrassed about it. Owen felt guilty that he had stopped her to talk a little. It made sense why she seemed in such a rush. He really was tired, usually he'd notice things like that. Owen liked to think he was good at noticing things.

When the light suddenly flickered above him, Owen glanced upwards more out of instinct than anything else. Each turning of the stairway had a fluorescent light – a long cylinder held up by wires. As if to hammer home his own point, Owen's eyes focused in on one of the wires. It was frayed, small little strands peeling off at the frayed point. This was nothing particularly new, after all despite how much money went into Hearthome, there were still many things out of view that perhaps hadn't been focused on as much.

Owen watched as each fray plucked free like snapped violin strings. He could almost hear each ping although part of him knew that was impossible.

"Watch out!"

The raised voice surprised Owen. His gaze moved from the fixture to the top of the stairs, where Noah had suddenly appeared, his shoes skidding on the floor.

Snap!

The frayed fixture suddenly came loose and the light came swinging towards Owen like a pendulum. His instinct was strong though and he was already stepping back before he had fully contemplated what was happening. The fixture swung centimetres from his nose, harmlessly reaching the top of its arc and swinging back down again, a potential fatal strike narrowly avoided.

As Owen put his foot down, the expected pressure of a floor didn't come. Fear surged up in him and before Owen could do anything else, he felt his presence leave his own body, as pure fear forced his body to switch personalities.

For a moment, it was a graceful fall. Noah watched, eyes wide, as Owen stepped back from the light fixture. A momentary surge of triumph as the natural trap was avoided. A surge that plummeted as Owen's foot hit nothing but air in the open elevator shaft, the grated door wide open. His back arced, his arms swung out, his front leg tipped up. Like an Olympic diver, Owen's body bent, before his head clashed off one of the metal struts ringing the elevator shaft.

The head jolted and Noah could only watch from above as Owen fell another foot and hit his head again on the next strut, like a grisly ball bouncing between walls. When Owen was out of sight, all Noah could hear was a third thunk followed by an echoing crack as something heavy met something immovable.

For a long moment, Noah could not move.

The faint groan drew movement back into his body. Uncertain, confused, but hopeful, Noah ran to the bottom of the stairs near the lobby of the dorms but came to a stop, cursing inwardly. The elevator had not stopped on the ground floor, but rather had continued further down to where the rarely used cells were. You had to have a special keycard to access this floor and could not get there from the lobby itself. Noah peered through the grating and impossibly saw Owen moving, one arm slightly stirring, his eyelids fluttering. Blood had already coated his short hair and covered the top half of his head in crimson.

"…Os…car?" Owen's voice was weak and feeble.

Noah took a moment to consider, before grabbing the closed grating of the elevator doors and wrenching them open. It took a little bit of effort but the doors finally opened, allowing Noah to slip through. He carefully lowered himself down, hung for a moment while he tried to ignore the pain in his shoulders and ribs, and then dropped the last foot onto the top of the elevator cart.

He quickly turned and crouched down next to Owen, whose eyes were fully open now, but filled with blood and fear. "Oscar!?"

"It's Noah. You're okay, don't move."

"I can't feel him!" Owen's voice was raised in panic. "He's not there! He's not—" Owen sucked in pained breaths, his one moving hand groping for any handhold.

"No, no, don't move."

"Oscar!" Owen cried, his tears welling up, spilling down his cheeks in rivers of red. "Ollie, help, where are you! Oscar's gone… Ollie!"

With no idea what to do and knowing that trying to move Owen would be a mistake, he sat down against the wall of the elevator shaft, and gently put a hand on Owen's shoulder to stop the moving. "I know. It hurts. I know."

"Help me… Ollie, help me… Where are you…" The usual stoic persona of Owen had lost all emotional control. He sobbed and cried and it was all Noah could do to whisper platitudes to try and reassure Owen that it was okay.

It seemed obvious now that Noah had seen Owen switch to Oscar in that moment of falling. Back in his vision, when Conner was on his murderous rampage, whichever persona was at the table must have switched into Oscar in fear just before Conner made it. It was Oscar on the list and the list had claimed its victim, but whether or not it was a positive that Owen was still here, Noah couldn't be sure, especially hearing the weeps and moans coming from the young man.

"What's going—"

"—Oh shit!"

Two voices drew Noah's attention downwards, where he could see the concrete floor of the basement. Two orderlies who Noah recognised as the large frame of Dave and the much thinner one of Derrick. He had already heard all he needed to about these two from Robyn and how they threatened her, but now was not the time for that.

"Help!" Noah called out. "I need help up here, please!"

"Shit!" Dave said again. "Shit, alright. Derrick, go get Rebecca. Don't dither, now!" There was a strange look to Derrick but he took off without protest. Dave looked up at Noah. "Alright, I ain't getting up there, but Derrick is faster than me. Keep doing what you're doing, and help is coming."

Noah nodded, looking back to Owen. Owen's eyes were searching but Noah suspected he wasn't looking outside but rather inside. As Noah watched, Owen's eyes latched onto his own. "Noah… Noah, I shouldn't be alone, I shouldn't… I'm not… Ollie is the main I'm just… I can't handle this feeling… Oscar handled grief, I just… Noah, help me, please, please, find Ollie, I need him, please!"

"We'll find him," Noah said. Whether that was true or not Noah did not know. "We'll find him, Owen."

"I don't want to die!"

"You won't."

"Oscar's gone, he's dead isn't he, he's dead…"

Noah hated seeing Owen like this. Hated seeing anyone like this. He knew that he needed to talk but he found it hard to talk. But he couldn't let Owen spiral any more than he already had. Noah took a deep breath. "I want you to listen to me, Owen, and I want you to respond when you can. Ask me questions. Anything. I want to tell you a story about Amelia." The word felt heavy on Noah's tongue. It was the first thing that came to mind but he wasn't certain he had spoken about Amelia to anyone other than Doctor Evans. He nodded at Owen to prompt a question.

"W-W-Who's Amelia?" Owen asked, understanding what Noah was doing. Noah had to admire that strength.

"Someone who was very special to me. I want to tell you about the special moments." And so Noah murmured conversation to Owen, unmoving on the top of the elevator cart, making sure to get responses and affirmations. Even as Derrick and the nurse Rebecca arrived shortly after, and then more orderlies, and even as Owen was very carefully moved and put onto a stretcher, Noah kept talking, trying to keep Owen's fear at bay.