Thank you everyone for your amazing comments, and for your patience! I appreciate it so much xxx

To answer your questions:

Is the video still in play? Absolutely. It will turn up in the next arc. I have *plans*, fam...

How many people did Anya incapacitate? You know, I honestly don't know, but I was picturing 12-15.

Was the psychic defence scene inpsired by Gus Porter? It was not! But I have since watched the recommended clip, and I see what you mean. Very cool. I am honoured to be considered a comparison.

Writing this arc is SO difficult, I am not joking that it is complex as hell. My brain hurts so much. I also actually had a completely different plan for the next chapter I planned to post, but then I realised that I was trying to accelerate the plot for plot's sake, and there were just a *couple* of things I needed to do first...

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Emile couldn't stop thinking about it.

It felt so real. Seeing Damian in his room again, hearing him, feeling the impact on his sternum and ribcage like it was happening all over again…

He shuddered.

All week he had tried, and failed, to distract himself, to think of something else, but his mind just kept circling back to it, picking at it like a scab.

How did it happen? Why did it happen? And why did he get the full sense that Anya was somehow at the centre of it? It only happened because she grabbed him, right? Because she had done… something…

He recalled the panicked look in her eyes when the flashback ended, and he had crashed back into his own body, sweating and heaving for breath. It only took one look at her for Emile to know that she saw it too, even though that made him feel crazy, because what the fuck was that, and how did it happen?

Emile couldn't stop thinking about it.

It had to be because of Anya, there was no doubt about it. After that, there was the incident with the "gas leak", which gnawed at Emile's brain because how the hell did Becky even know it was a gas leak in the first place? More than that, it was the talk of the school for at least the next two days, and everything that Emile heard about it only reinforced to him that it was more than what was on the surface - it was a freak event. Some kind of… paranormal phenomenon. Like a poltergeist, or a UFO.

He had even looked up the symptoms of inhaling gas by accident, and nowhere did it mention anything about hallucinations, or fainting, or bleeding from the eyes and ears, so maybe all of that happened because of some other reason but clearly Emile would never know because he was completely in the dark about everything.

And even worse, Emile had no idea who to talk to about it, because who would believe him? He had a half-baked idea about something being strange with Anya Forger… and then what? What was he supposed to do with that?

Ewen had already rebuffed him. Look man, I don't know what you saw, but you've gotta let it go.

Emile couldn't stop thinking about it.

He recalled when Becky ordered him to take Anya to the infirmary. He had initially pushed back against the idea, terrified that touching Anya would subdue him into another flashback, but when he saw how awful she looked, a chill ran through his entire body. Plus, it was so obvious that Damian was so worried about her, and Emile honestly didn't want him to feel any more stressed than he already did.

It pained him to see Damian automatically cradling Anya, as if he wasn't even aware of his own actions, and it made Emile feel uneasy. Somehow, it never mattered what Anya did, because Damian would never be able to let go of her. Not really.

There was no time to wonder why or how, as he gently took her from Damian's hold, and carried her towards the infirmary, all the while trying not to jostle her too much.

She was heavier than she looked. How could someone so short be so dense? (In more ways than one, he thought to himself with a roll of his eyes.) Combined with her crazy athleticism, her suspicious behaviour, and now her mysterious medical condition, he didn't know what to make of her, but he had promised Damian that he would look after her, so that was what he would do.

Anya was so still in his arms, and so pale that it worried him, but he almost breathed a sigh of relief when Anya opened her eyes, and her detached gaze roamed over him.

"I'm sorry," she mumbled, her voice quiet and raspy. "I never meant to…"

Emile slowed his footsteps, staring at her intently.

Never meant to… what? He wanted to ask, but he didn't want to startle her. There was a faraway look in her eyes that made him wonder if she really was awake, or in the same kind of state that Damian had been in.

"I hurt Damian," she rasped, and once again her eyes glazed over, fixed on something that Emile couldn't see. "I hurt you. I hurt…"

Her head dropped into his shoulder, as her eyes weighed closed once again.

"...everyone…"

She sighed the last word, returning into a somewhat deeper sleep, and leaving Emile's mind spinning.

Emile couldn't stop thinking about it.

Those words of hers… it had been what he was thinking, hadn't it? He thought his flashback was something to do with her, and she… admitted it? Or something?

But…she had also been half-asleep (or if Emile was really honest with himself, basically unconscious), so how much of what she said could he really take seriously?

Three steps forward, five steps back, constantly trying to balance the clues given to him with the reality of the situation, because there was no way that she was the centre of some kind of paranormal phenomenon…

… right?

It was crazy. He felt crazy. (So why did it feel like Damian and Becky were in on it, too?)

Becky had to know about anything to do with Anya, because she was her best friend, so if there was anything then surely she would know about it. Plus, the way that she ordered him and Ewen and Emile around… it was almost like she knew.

If Emile asked her about Anya, would she tell him?

(Why would she? Becky was a loyal friend, and there was no way she would out Anya for anything…)

Then, there was Damian. Emile and Damian had been friends for almost their entire lives. Surely Daman would warn Emile if there was something dangerous going on? Surely, Emile could rely on his friend to tell him the truth when he needed to know it?

Emile couldn't stop thinking about it.

It took over his dreams, to the point that sleep escaped him over and over again. It took over his thoughts, to the point that Emile was afraid to be even in the same room as Anya, in case she would somehow identify the obvious suspicion on his face.

It took over his body, and before he knew it, Emile was at Damian's door, his knuckles raised to rap on the wood. There was a pause, during which he tried to gather his courage, and then he steeled himself, and knocked.

Normally, suspended students would have been rusticated to an alternative accommodation, but given the Desmond Scandal and the ongoing issue of the hounding press at the doorstep of Eden College, the normal procedure was out of the question for Damian.

Emile tapped his foot, his fists curling and uncurling at his sides. Damian would probably think he was crazy, right? What if he didn't know anything? What if he didn't actually have any idea what was going on with Anya, and then Emile just looked like a fool? (A crazy fool?)

The door opened, and Emile startled.

"Oh," said Damian, blinking in surprise. "It's you."

Of course Damian wasn't expecting to see Emile at that moment in time, because it was the middle of the school day, and Damian's suspension was still in full effect. So, Emile should have been on his way to his next class - not interrupting Damian's prep time.

Damian's eyes scanned over Emile's restless legs, his clenched jaw.

"Are you… alright?"

All the moisture vanished from Emile's mouth, and he swallowed, trying to regain some sense of composure.

"Y-yeah, uh…"

He bounced on his heels. This was mad. He was mad. This was a bad idea. What was he thinking?

"Actually, it's, well, uh-"

Just say it you idiot?!

"It's about Anya."

He squeezed the words out, all the words running into each other.

"What about her?" Damian's voice was flat, but he would never be able to hide the other emotions in his voice. The part of him that wanted to know if she was okay, if something had happened, because despite everything, it was obvious that he still cared about her.

No-one knew what Anya and Damian's status was. Were they still together? When was the last time they talked? When was their fight finally going to be over? Nobody dared to ask, and frankly, most students at the school were too scared to know the answer. So, Emile knew that he had to tread very delicately in the conversation.

"Well, uh, that day with the gas leak-"

Damian stiffened, and his eyes widened. Emile couldn't help but notice that Damian had gone very, very still.

"Uh, something happened, with Anya, and I, uh, I was wondering, if she's…"

Oh god, Emile prepared himself. He would never recover from this.

"Is she, like, a witch, or something?"

Well, the words were out now. He would never be able to take them back. He half-hoped that the ground could just swallow him up and give him an excuse to escape the conversation entirely.

"What are you saying?"

If Damian's voice was flat and emotionless before, it was nothing compared to the ice cold edge that sharpened his tone, and made a shiver trickle down Emile's spine.

Later, Emile would dissect the conversation, noticing every movement of Damian's every word. Later, he would note that Damian didn't scoff immediately, didn't roll his eyes and say that witches obviously didn't exist, and that Emile was obviously just overthinking things.

Instead, he said: What are you saying?

Later, Emile would understand that sentence for what it was, but at that moment, his nerves had the better of him, and all he wanted was to find some kind of answer that he could understand.

It came rushing out of him.

"I overheard some of the victims of the gas leak talking with each other. They said they heard things, that they saw things, like they were reliving their worst nightmares over and over again, that they felt like they had no control over what was going on around them, that they felt like they couldn't escape, and I, and I - I saw things, too, I heard things, I saw…"

He looked at Damian. Swallowed dryly.

"... something horrible. I wasn't caught in the gas leak, but it happened to me, too."

His breath caught in his chest, leaving him ragged and breathless.

"That happened to me," Emile repeated.

"It was just the gas," said Damian, his voice stiff and cautious. "Becky did say that it had happened at her company over the winter-"

"But I wasn't anywhere near the gas leak!" Emile exclaimed, and he could feel himself getting desperate. "And I know what I saw! But both times, Anya, she - she was there - she knew that something happened, and I don't think it was a gas leak at all and I swear I'm not making this up!"

This was a mistake. This was a terrible mistake. What was he thinking, asking Damian if Anya was a witch?

At the same time, Emile couldn't stop thinking about it. It was the first thing he thought about when he woke up, the last thought in his mind before he fell asleep, and even his sleep was restless and interrupted with flashes of anxiety and uncertainty and thoughts, always thoughts, spinning and spinning and taking over his entire body until there was no room for anything else.

"Anya - she - she's something - and her being a witch is the only thing I can think of even though it still makes absolutely no sense because witches aren't real right?!"

"Emile," said Damian quietly, and Emile couldn't help it. He stopped talking, and he leaned forward with interest, listening intently to whatever Damian was planning to say next.

"You're right."

Emile's eyes widened. It couldn't be right. He was imagining things. There was no way that Damian just -

"Witches aren't real."

Of course. Emile's heart sank. Of course Damian would try to talk some sense to him, instead of entertaining his stupid idea. Of course witches weren't real…

"You're obviously tired. You've had a lot on your mind, and the stress is clearly getting to you."

Emile couldn't explain why a sense of unease twisted at his insides, taking over his entire body.

"Y-yeah," he swallowed dryly. "Obviously."

Without consciously thinking about it, Emile backed away from Damian's door, away from the cold feeling that suddenly gripped him.

"But if she's not a witch…" He steadied himself. "Then what is she?"

Was it his imagination, or did Damian look like he was steeling himself, too?

"She's Anya," he said eventually. "She's our friend."

Is she, though? Emile wanted to retaliate, but he didn't, because deep down, he knew that it would be twisting the knife. He knew, as did Ewen, that Damian hadn't spoken to Anya in over a week. Not since Damian's breakdown.

It belatedly occurred to Emile that he was poking a sleeping dragon.

He backed away, unable to dampen the rising swell of anxiety that stirred inside him. After all, hadn't he seen firsthand what Damian was capable of?

Yes, they were friends, but…

Emile couldn't stop thinking about it.

A deep breath in, and Emile tried to wipe away his facial expression, trying to look at least a little composed.

"Yeah, of course," he rasped. "You're right. I'm being stupid. Obviously."

It didn't escape Emile's notice that Damian watched him walk away, and only when he turned the corner into the Cecile Hall Boy's Dormitory common room did he hear the telltale click of Damian shutting his own door.

He kept walking. With each step, Emile's brows furrowed deeper.

That was… strange.

All throughout his interaction with Damian, Emile couldn't put his finger on it, but there was something definitely… off. He couldn't forget about his entirely rigid Damian stood, like he was paralysed with fear. Or that his voice was so flat and low, that it didn't even sound like him. And his careful rebuttal of Emile, taking everything so seriously as if it were life or death - because if Emile was wrong and something wasn't up with Anya, then why did Damian act so grave? Why didn't he just plain laugh in Emile's face and tell him how ridiculous he was being, that he just needed to sleep?

But he didn't do any of that. He took him seriously, almost like he acknowledged Emile's words as a threat, because what other reason could it be?

A low whistle sounded in the common room, and Emile jumped up.

"Well, I gotta hand it to you. I never thought you would be that stupid."

Emile reeled back, the insult to his pride taking a temporary backseat to his surprise.

"Glooman? What are you doing here?" He glanced back at Damian's closed door, noting the short distance. "And, uh, how much of that did you hear?"

George Glooman sighed and shut his notebook, before he pulled himself up on the sofa, regarding Emile with something akin to boredom.

"It's my free period, and you don't need to worry about me." He grinned slowly, making a chill run down Emile's spine.

"I'm pretty good at keeping secrets."

Emile would have been tempted to walk away, to leave George to his weirdness and his persistent loitering, but something kept him rooted to the floor. He couldn't explain it. Emile had never exactly been the first person in the know of everything at Eden College, but it never bothered him, until now.

Now, it felt like he was being left behind by the people he cared most about in the world, and there was no balm that could soothe that particular sting.

"You wouldn't happen to know about…"

The words were out before he could stop them, but Emile bit the inside of his cheek, cutting himself off from the rest of the sentence. He had already made a fool out of himself once that day.

"Actually, nevermind. I don't know why I-"

"Why do you wanna know about Anya Forger?"

Dammit, Emile gritted his teeth. He really was acting so stupid - all that tossing and turning, overthinking about everything, not getting any sleep, all of it must have tampered with his mind, somehow. Making him make the worst decisions.

And yet. And yet. Why did he get the feeling that George Glooman knew something about Anya? Why did he get the feeling that George was testing him?

Even worse, why did Emile suddenly get the feeling that he could be trusted?

But he must have been silent for too long, thinking about everything in front of him, because George had stepped closer to Emile, and leaned towards him, keeping his voice low.

"If you did get answers about Anya, what are you planning to do to her?"

"What?" Emile almost choked. "I wasn't - I wasn't going to do anything -"

"Are you sure?"

And once again, it felt as though Glooman was giving him some sort of test. Trying to gauge his answer. For what, Emile had no idea, but he was tired of being shut out, tired of being the last one to know everything, tired of feeling like he was being pushed to the sidelines.

"Um, I guess…"

Emile tried to think about it. Why did he ask Damian about Anya? All Emile knew was that his worldview had been shaken, and he had felt so rattled after the flashback that he was so sure Anya had conjured somehow, and that he hadn't been able to sleep for a solid week, completely unsettled by everything that happened.

He wanted to know, but George's words had given him pause.

Why, indeed? It wasn't like he could do anything about Anya's strangeness. He couldn't change her, and nor did he plan to. Damian was right about two things: Anya was Anya. And… she was his friend.

So, didn't he have a right to know? Didn't he get to have a choice? Didn't he earn a spot as Damian's best friend? And how could he be a true best friend if he only knew half the pieces? Pieces that were flung at him with no warning, no context, and no chance to learn the truth.

"I just want things to make sense again," said Emile quietly, his brows drawn together in thought.

Yes, that felt right. There were so many questions. So many loose ends. He didn't want to trip over them any more. Because Anya wasn't just Anya, she was also forever linked with Damian, his best friend. Wherever Damian went, Anya would always be nearby. Hadn't that always been the case, ever since they were little kids?

His short reverie was broken, when George nodded firmly to himself, and turned away.

"Come with me," said George, beckoning Emile to him with his notebook. "I want to show you something."

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Okay, would you believe me if I said that I didn't see this coming, either? xD

I never, ever planned this chapter to happen. But. What can I say? Emile told me that he needed his own chapter to process his thoughts, and George reminded me that he HAS been looking for recruits...

Next chapter: Let's just have a fluffy flashback, okay? Something nice and light. I think we all need a bit of that tbh. If I can get it finished next Saturday I will be very pleased with myself, but, we shall see. It's hectic as hell over here.

And then the chapter after next... well. THAT'S the one that's been keeping me awake at night! It's going to be so much fun...