As my coworker's concerned voice pierces through the fog of panic that clouds my mind, I feel the first tendrils of panic tightening their grip around my chest. My breath comes in short, shallow gasps, each inhalation feeling like a struggle against an invisible weight pressing down on my chest.

"Helen? Helen? Hey, are you alright? What can I do to help?" I think I can hear some murmurs that sound like Carter, if he couldn't put any intelligible words together.

I want to respond, to reassure them that I'm fine, but the words stick in my throat like bile, choked off by the overwhelming sense of dread that threatens to consume me. Elias is gone, and I'm left floundering in the darkness, unsure of where to turn or how to pick up the shattered pieces of my shattered existence.

I can't breathe. I can't do this. The weight of the world bears down on my shoulders, crushing me beneath its relentless pressure. Doubt and self-recrimination swirl in the depths of my mind, a whirlpool of despair threatening to pull me under.

What if he blames me for this? What if it's my fault? I'm sorry I wasn't good enough. I'll try harder. Fuckfuckfuck. I don't know. I don't know!

My thoughts spiral out of control, a cacophony of voices clamoring for attention in the chaos of my mind. I curl into myself, my knees drawn up to my chest, my body trembling with the effort of holding back the tidal wave of panic threatening to overwhelm me.

My shoulders heave with each ragged breath, my chest tight with the suffocating weight of my own fear. Is that Martin? I think it might be. His presence offers a small flicker of comfort amidst the storm raging inside me, but even that is not enough to quell the rising tide of panic.

I'm falling apart. I'm nothing. I'll never be anything. There are needles in my lungs, each breath a painful reminder of my own inadequacy. I was a fool to think I could do this. I'm not even good enough to be a stand-in; I can't keep my shit together.

My head pounds with the sound of my blood rushing through my veins, a deafening cacophony that threatens to drown out all rational thought. Tears stream down my cheeks unchecked, a silent testament to the overwhelming despair that grips me in its icy embrace.

"Helen, I brought you some tissues, are you alright?" Martin's voice breaks through the fog of panic, his concern palpable in the air around me.

"Go away, Martin," I whisper, my voice barely audible above the roar of my own thoughts. Leave me alone. Leave me to this.

"Just take it," he insists, pressing a tissue into my hand. "I won't tell anyone this happened."

I clutch the tissue tightly in my trembling fingers, its softness a fleeting comfort amidst the storm raging inside me. But even as I accept his offering, I know that this is just the beginning of a battle that I'm not sure I can win. I am not even sure who stands where. I think it might just be me and Elias against the world. Can we make this work? He seems so sure.

"Why are you being nice to me?" I have been trying so hard to position myself well before the assistants, but they may just end up only seeing Elias when they see me now, especially if they see me like this. I am an absolute mess. I can't do anything right.

"Elias was helping you with your mom, right?" Oh, Martin. I see now. You don't really get it, but I will leverage your kindness. I will find another way. "This must be really scary for you, but everything will work itself out." I sure hope so. If it doesn't, what am I doing all this for? I need it to work out.

I sniffle and blow my nose with the tissue he gave me. I am trying really hard not to cry harder. Martin, it's so much more than that. You don't understand, and I can't even talk to anyone about it. Sometimes there is no one in the world for you to speak to about something, and you just have to swallow it all up yourself.

"Are you upset with me, Helen?" I am sitting in the hollow space beneath my desk, and he sits down across from me. The floor creaks and groans with the movement. There is a hollow space beneath him he is not aware of. Not even Elias knows. I have to keep some things a secret after all.

"No, why would I be upset?" What a ridiculous question? It strikes me that Martin would be a good match for the web if he were a tad less well intentioned. He has such a good way of bringing you in. He's the kind of person you either hate or love, and if you're Jon, then both statements ring true.

"I helped make everything happen. I organized his arrest." I knew about it. We both did. Elias told me not to do anything. I just didn't know it would be so soon. It's fine. He'll be back eventually. This is all part of the plan. Everything is going to be fine.

"No, Martin. I'm not mad. You're right." I struggle to take in a breath that does not make my whole being shudder. I cannot take a deep breath as hard as I try. "I'm scared. I don't know what I should do."

He passes me another tissue. "I guess we just keep doing our jobs. You can finally return to artefact storage." I guess this is my place. He's right. I can work with that. Jon can be the archivist, and I can manage what I need to from behind the scenes. It's less dramatic than Elias, but I favor a different style of performance than he does.

"Yeah, you're right. Hey, you still have that book I gave you, right?" I could try to give him something else, but that would be more effective if he still has it. I cannot create more at the moment easily. I suppose I should get Jon one, but I would have to expose myself to the Lonely's reach to make it effective.

"Yeah, I do." Whew! A part of me worried he had misplaced it.

"Keep it on hand, okay." Air now comes to me in ordinary amounts, something to turn my attention to. He's right, I just have to change my perspective. "It really is something that will help. I can't explain it, but I want you to hold onto it." Peter is going to try to take both of us, and I cannot let him win over Martin entirely. A touch of the Lonely won't hurt either of us, but I won't have my mother win in any capacity.

"I will. I will," he stands up, offering me a pale hand. "Are you feeling a little better now? Would you like a cup of tea?" He pulls me up, and he is a gentle force. My feet find the floor again.

"I would love a cup of tea," I tell him, and I rub a falling tear from my cheek with a rolled sleeve.

The exchange with Martin brings a small sense of relief, like a crack of light breaking through the darkness. As he leads me towards the break room, I try to steady my breathing, to push back the overwhelming tide of panic threatening to consume me.

The warmth of the teacup in my hands feels grounding, comforting. Martin sits across from me, his presence a reassuring presence amidst the chaos swirling within me.

"Thank you," I murmur, taking a sip of the steaming liquid. The familiar taste of the tea soothes my frayed nerves, offering a momentary respite from the storm raging inside. It's going to be a challenge, but neither of us has to go it alone. I can protect us.

I finish my tea, and Martin makes his way back to the archives. I organize and clean, a welcome distraction from the turmoil of my own thoughts. Despite everything, the shelves and artifacts remain unchanged, a silent testament to the passage of time amidst the chaos of our lives.

Days slip by in a haze, some spent in the quiet solitude of the storage room, others filled with the ominous presence of Lukas. His constant scrutiny weighs heavy on my shoulders, a reminder of the precarious balance I must maintain to avoid falling prey to his twisted machinations. But I refuse to be a pawn in his game, a mere puppet dancing to his tune.

Today, as I dust off a particularly ancient-looking tome, I hear the distant murmurings of my coworkers echoing through the corridors. Their voices carry a tremble of fear, a palpable unease that seems to infect the very air around us.

"Did you hear about what happened with Elias?" Margaret whispers, her voice tinged with apprehension.

"It was pretty serious. Apparently, there's a recording of him doing the deed,"Carter replies, more upbeat and cheery than the topic he speaks of. Ah, the tape of him and Jurgen. A shiver crawls through me at the mention of his arrest, but I try to keep my focus on work.

"What do you think of Mr. Lukas?" she asks, her voice hesitant.

"Who?"

"That's Elias's stand-in," the shelves creak as my colleagues approach. "Hey, Helen, you meet with Mr. Lukas, right?"

"Peter's... alright," I reply cautiously, choosing my words with care. "Though I must admit, he can be a bit... intimidating."

"Scary how, and are you back for good now?" Margaret's nursing a cup of office coffee, the color is quite dark, even for her. She must be having a particularly poor week.

Peter is terrifying like a power outage in a blizzard. He's been trying to tempt me over to the Lonely, or trick me into it even. He even brought up that person I vanished the other day. I reflect back on the conversation we had recently about my return to the Lonely:

"You really have such a talent for it. Think of what we could do." I don't want to think of what we could do, thank you very much. I don't want a world overrun by the Lonely. I shouldn't have vanished that person, but they were annoying.

"I'm okay," I reply, my voice steady despite the tumultuous emotions raging within me.

But Peter's laughter echoes in the recesses of my mind, a chilling reminder of the darkness that lurks beneath his facade. "You could be so much more than you are now," he taunts, his words a cruel reminder of the power he wields.

I shake my head. His is a temptation easy to refuse. "I don't want power if it means sacrificing myself to you. I won't become like you."

He chuckles, the sound sending a chill down my spine. "You're a fool if you think you can resist forever. The Lonely speaks to you, Helen. It always will."

I clench my fists, steeling myself against his taunts. "I've faced it before, Peter. I won't let it consume me."

His eyes narrow, a dangerous glint flickering in their depths. "You may think you're strong, but even the strongest eventually fall. And when you do, I'll be waiting. Elias isn't here. Do you really think you're on the winning side?" With that ominous warning, he disappears into the shadows, leaving me alone with my thoughts and the lingering fear of what he might do next.

I know I am on the winning side because I refuse to be anything but. I know I am a mess. I cry a lot, and I am a poor excuse for something so far from human. I am still plenty capable, and I can raise a lot more hell than you even realize Peter.

I tear myself away from the past, offering my colleagues a nod in response, trying to ignore the way their gazes flicker nervously towards the artifacts surrounding us. "Yeah, just trying to catch up on some work," I reply, hoping to steer the conversation away from the topic of Elias's arrest and Peter. My nails are digging into the heels of my palms.

They nod, seemingly relieved by my response, and I can't help but feel a pang of guilt at this deception. Why is it so hard when it's usually so easy? Why now? But in this world of shadows and secrets, sometimes the truth is a luxury, and luxuries are only so because not everyone has them.

As we continue our work, the tension gradually eases, replaced by a sense of camaraderie and shared purpose. Despite the occasional annoyance they may cause me, I find solace in the knowledge that I am not alone in this fight against the darkness that threatens to consume us all.

With Lukas's presence and Elias's absence casting a shadow over the Institute, the support of my coworkers becomes a spark in a world shrouded in smoke.