Melanie keeps looking at me with scrunched eyes. She's been around a little now, but she has not taken a liking to me. She is deciding whether or not to give me a chance. I would rather she not hate me, but I know she hates Elias. It's not exactly a secret that Elias drives me home, but nobody ever asks. How could they? It's awkward. If I could just break the ice already, maybe we could be friends. I don't have many friends, but I like Melanie. She's got spunk, and it's nice to have someone like her around. How do normal people start conversations again anyway?

I am recording a statement regarding some spiders and the statement-giver's paralyzing arachnophobia. I can see Melanie roll her eyes as I read aloud a particularly silly line in the statement. Spiders. This could be my chance. "Statement Ends." Click! "How many eyes does a spider have?"

"Eight, I think?" She speaks! I can do this. Okay, what next?

"I thought they had eight legs?" I really am curious. I feel like there are so many things I do not know, and I want to know everything!

"Are you saying they can't have eight eyes if they have eight legs? You have two legs and two eyes." I think I have more eyes than you think, Melanie. We all do. She does make a fun point. This is what I mean, she's different from Tim and Martin. She makes for entertaining company.

"So you say," I laugh a bit, and she joins in, masking it with a cough. The tension between us softens.

"Martin warned me you were a little weird," she smiles like the moon, "I'm Melanie." Of course he said that. It's good to be weird. It's exciting! People who aren't any weird have less fun.

"Sorry about the awkwardness," I grit my teeth together for a moment, contemplating. "I get a bit anxious at times. I've been really stressed in Jon's absence and in this position," I explain, putting the statement into a folder I have set-up. "If I'm being honest I was just trying to get some conversation going between us." I have a very temporary system for these statements because I wanted to make returning easier for Jon. I am following along in his steps as best I can, but we are quite different.

She pauses, testing the waters, "Did you know Sasha?"

"Sasha James? Yeah, why?" She doesn't even know she has given me my in. I blink a few times while deciding how the rest of this conversation needs to go. I need her to not hate me. I don't need her trying to poison me too. I have too much work to do without worrying about people's unkind intentions to me. I might as well play the kinder side. No one gets along with Elias, and it's not going to get any better.

"Were there two Sashas, or am I crazy?" As she pushes out the last few words, she huffs, and her bangs float up with the force of it.

"Everyone here is a little crazy." A non-answer. "But yeah. It was wild, right?"

"You bitch!" She pulls a chair around, and plops herself into the seat. Leaning forward with her arms against her elbows, she examines me.

"What?!" I was blunt, yes, but I was not expecting that. That's something I would say though, so it is a fair response.

"I thought I was the only one." Her eyes burn into me with wonder behind them.

"Weird things happen around here all the time. I just figured I oughtta ignore it."

"It's nice to officially meet you, Helen."

I have to let Elias know I don't plan to ride with him today. It's only polite. Of the statements I file away for Jon, Elias asks me to find some letter for him. I read it before I plan to give it to him. It is a letter to Jonah Magnus pleading for his intervention to save him, to not leave him. It sends my mind in circles. I ask Melanie to bring it to Elias. She looks as if she is going to ask me a question, but I think the pain distorts the cheery attitude I usually have. I am upset. I am hurt, and I am confused. I know. I know Elias isn't. I know what he is, but I don't know what we are. I don't know what else to feel besides anger.

Melanie returns from her trip to Elias's, and I am about to do something crazy. "Hey, Melanie."

"What's up?"

I pause, locking eyes with her. "Would you like to go to a store and buy some alcohol? We can have some drinks at mine."

Her eyes widen slightly, and she tilts her head, "At yours?"

"I get too nervous in bars," I confess with a half-smile. "We can figure out a different plan if it suits you more, though."

She thinks for a moment, her expression contemplative. "Yeah, sure, why not?"

A grin spreads across my face. "Great! Let's get out of this place." I stand up, feeling a surge of excitement.

The trip to the liquor store is amusing in itself. I don't really drink at all. I confess this to Melanie, and she takes the lead, grabbing this and that. She questions what kind of tastes and things I like as she navigates the store. She picks out some vodka, some whiskey, some wine, and some mixers. She seems to know what she's doing, and I trust her judgment.

We pay for our purchases and she drives us to my apartment. It's not a long drive from the Institute, and I used to walk to work. When we get to my place, I unlock the door and invite her in. She follows me inside and looks around. "Make yourself comfortable," I say, "I'll get some glasses."

I go to the kitchen and grab two glasses and a bottle opener. I hear Melanie humming to herself as she sets the alcohol on the coffee table. I join her in the living room and sit on the couch. She sits next to me and looks over our haul. "Hm. Can I raid your kitchen?"

"Go for it!"

She disappears, returning with utensils. I watch her toss together three drinks. She has me try each one and give her my opinion. I am leaning over my couch as Melanie mixes me another drink. My chin pushes up against the top of the couch. "Are you trying to get me sloshed, sir?"

I prop up my face with a hand.

"Sir, huh? Maybe just a little. Do you ever 'Sir' Elias?" My tongue is light from the alcohol. After all this, Melanie is still fishing, but I suppose I should be flattered.

"Ew, no! Absolutely not. Nasty. No ew no way no." I don't wanna talk about him right now. I feel sad, but ugh. What am I supposed to do with all this?

"Point made."

The warmth fills my chest and buzzes in my cheeks. Melanie downs a shot of vodka. "Disgusting," I remark.

She glides over to me with a drink in hand for me. The ice clinks around in the glass. It goes down smooth and sweet and stings just a tad.

"This is the best one so far."

She smiles, "Your chin is so red!" Oh, from the pressure of my head on the couch. We have work tomorrow, and I am dreading it already. I slump off the couch, and lay on the floor with a 's nice and cool on the ground. The solidness of the floor helps calm the buzz. Melanie sits down near me, pulling her legs into criss cross position, a drink in one hand.

She steers the conversation towards Elias, the topic I dread at this moment. She feigns friendliness, but I sense her probing. Did I make a wrong choice? No. I am in control of my own fate. There is no morality in this chaotic world. She confesses her attempts to hurt and kill Elias. She curses her failure to get close enough–my heart skips a beat–dwelling on her mistakes.

She drains her drink, and it clunks onto the coffee table as she sets it aside a bit too rough. We are both drunk. She leans forward, mirroring my posture.

She leans closer to me, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. "You and him are close, right?" I nod, my cheek pressed against the floor. I feel a pang of guilt, knowing that she hates him. "Do you and him, uh…," she trails off.

I shake my head, trying to sound casual. "He makes me furious." I remember how he scolded me for messing up with the last artefact, how he ignored my suggestions, how he treated me like a something small. It hurt. It doesn't always upset me to be small, but then I felt so insignificant, useless.

She raises her eyebrows, surprised by my answer.

"I didn't expect that from you." She says, as if she knows me better than I do.

"You don't know what it's like to be constantly judged. He's never satisfied with my work." I say, venting my frustration.

She smirks, a wicked gleam in her eyes. "Well, I'll do better next time."

I lift myself up on my elbows, so I can see her face clearly. I feel a surge of adrenaline, a mix of fear and excitement. I have an idea, a crazy one. "Do you typically carry a knife with you?" I ask, hoping she'll say yes. She seems like the type. She does. I am certain.

She nods, reaching into her pocket. "Yeah, why?" She asks, curious about my intention.

"Lend it to me tomorrow!" I blurt out, before I can change my mind.

"Are you serious?" She asks, not sure if I'm joking or not.

I nod, a determined look on my face. "I just want to see what he'll do."

She laughs like the wind roars. "I would be happy to."

The rest of the night passes by in a drunken haze, and I wake up with a splitting headache. Work is going to be interesting today. I have to. I have to figure things out. I have to decide for myself. I want this, but is any of it real? Is all this worth it?

I part from my temporary work area after setting Tim and Martin up with some tasks.

Rosie waves to me as I pass her by, but I speed walk by her. That was rude of me, but I don't have the patience for casualness right now. I open the door to Elias's office and stomp in. The door swings shut with a slam behind me. I never let it slam and Elias looks at me with what might be surprise. His eyes widened just the slightest. "Helen, you don't have to meet with me about the tapes. I trust your judgment."

I leap over his desk onto his chair and we both tumble to the ground. "Oh!" Oh? That's all you can say. I switch open the blade I borrowed from Melanie, and I press it to his throat. Why? His eyes look to my hand at his throat. Is that all you have to say to me, you bastard?

"That color looks really good on you. It suits your eyes."

It suits my eyes? He is insane, and so am I. "Why are you doing this to me?" My voice comes out shaking and quieter than I thought it would. I want to scream. My eyes sting, and I want to scream my throat raw at him.

"Doing what, my dear?"

My fingers are shaking, but he doesn't struggle beneath me. He traces the features of my face with those eyes, and it sends a shiver down my spine. "This! What is this? You don't let people get this close ever. You don't get involved." When Melanie tries to kill you, you stop her. When your supposed friend was dying and begging for help, you watched it happen. Time and time again you have only ever distanced yourself. Why am I here? Why didn't you stop me?

He laughs, and the sound fills my ears. He has a lovely laugh. As he chuckles, his throat presses against the blade in my hand, drawing spots of blood.

"I like having you around."

I steady my fingers, and he draws a hand up to my face, wiping at a tear.

"Goddamit, Jonah! Just tell me why." Why am I here? What am I to you?

His smile remains, haunting and perfect. It would be better if he were making fun of me, but I can't figure out the amusement on his face. Why is he doing this to me? Why me?

He licks my tear off his finger. "Can I take a rain check?" My heart is hammering out of my chest, and my face is hotter than it was last night three drinks in. "As much as I am enjoying this. I think this conversation is one best had after I return." You better not be toying with me for once. How can I trust anything? You let Barnabas die. You. I don't understand you at all!

"Why?"

"Because if we have it before it will make the wait so much longer for you."

"You-you what?" His eyes are impossible to tear myself away from. He reaches his hand out to adjust my tousled collar.

"Please, Helen?" His fingers are so light upon me. He hesitates, and then withdraws.

I sigh, defeated. I stand up and back away, switching the knife closed. I offer him my hand, and he takes it. I don't help him yet. He leans back on a hand, staring up at me from the floor waiting for me to pull him up. "You swear we'll talk about it?"

"I promise." Words of reassurance that he would never say, but he just has. I suppose I should be happy with this for now. I heft him to his feet. He takes a moment to pat his vest and then fixes his chair with a creak and a thud. "Don't forget about the letter either. It's important." As if I could ever forget. I hate you sometimes. I hate you for treating me like some sort of exception, like I'm special. I loathe you for making me feel like this. I cannot turn away from you for a moment. I want this, but I don't want it to end. I want more.