"Rosie said you asked for me?" I peek into his office as I speak, yet my voice manages to fill all the corners and cracks of the room. This is giving me a bad feeling. Speaking of Bad feelings, I crushed a silvery maggot looking bug beneath my heel earlier today. This Prentiss stuff is starting to get out of hand.

Peter Lukas stands in the corner, a lingering fog floating from an unlit cigarette tucked at his lips. There is a biting cold in the air.

"I have a favor to ask of you."

I fold my hands behind my back and rock forward onto the tips of my toes, "Ask away!"

"I need you to help Peter with something."

"Oh, uhm, okay." When I said I would do anything for him, it was in fact not actually everything. I thought I could handle this. It's too much. Anything but this Elias. Anything, please. Don't make me do this.

"Thank you, dear."

"Wait, you mean right now?" I glance between Peter and Elias. Peter is itching to leave, and Elias offers me a wink that sends a sickening twist through my stomach.

"I just need to borrow your talents for a moment."

"Oh."

"Is there a problem?" Peter looks at me with a raised eyebrow, a hint of impatience in the adjusting of his posture, his hand glued to the doorknob.

I take a deep breath, tearing my eyes away from what very well may be the worst mistake of my life. Don't fall in love. It sucks ass. "There's always a problem. Let's get this over with Peter," I fall into step behind him, and we head for colder air.

My stomach drops as the fog overtakes us, the solid floors of the institute become the rolling deck of a ship. Each step I take is unsteady. I stumble forward until I can grasp something to catch my balance and a moment's rest. The fog clears and I see Peter's rather full looking crew manning the ship. My knuckles are white with the effort to anchor myself among the disorientation I now face. I am fighting a racing heartbeat off and trying to maintain my composure all at once; I don't have long to accomplish this. With myself somewhat gathered, and half my sea legs acquired, I press onward in search of wherever Peter has gone off to. He is a man of few words, but the scenario also doesn't require a lot of words. I know my mother's handiwork when I see it.

I was right to think this crew was too big. There is a portion of the crew that functions somewhat, wandering in a state of limbo. My mother half-fed upon them and released them to Peter somehow, much to his annoyance. I wave at Peter as he opens his mouth to say something with a shake of my head as I do so. Her leftovers watch me with half-lidded eyes, shadows of themselves.

The weight of their gazes lightens as I finish off each one, but the tightness in my chest grows as well. It hurts. I won't be able to stop it. Just a little more. Just a little further. I, only I can send them away for Peter because of the remaining attachment my mother has left to her on them. My fingers are so cold, and my eyelashes are frosting over. Just one more.

I turn away from the now empty space, and Peter Lukas looks down at me with something that looks like fondness in squinted eyes.

"Helen, I know we may have gotten off on the wrong foot."

As I stumble and take a quick breath, Peter catches my elbow to steady me. "Don't touch me!" I blurt out, my voice trembling. "God, just leave me alone. Fuck." His presence is going to send me over the edge. I need to get out of here. " You got what you wanted. Are you happy?" I demand, my chest is taut , my heart squeezes and races, and I am trying so hard to regain my control and push away the rising panic.

"I recognize that we don't have a great history between us," he continues, his tone earnest, "but I do value your skills." The world is starting to spin, and my vision blurs.

"I don't want-I, I can't…" I can't breathe. The world spins out of control, "Just take me home," I gasp out, desperate to have my breakdown in a familiar place. His hand finds my elbow once more, the touch is lighter than before, and we are swallowed by that fog once more.

My breath comes in shallow gasps, each inhale a struggle against the suffocating grip of anxiety. With every passing moment, the world around me blurs into a disorienting haze, and I can feel myself losing control. Peter leaves me to my own devices, giving me the solitude that I do not necessarily crave, but I would certainly prefer over his company after everything. I stumble through my front door, my legs weak and trembling beneath me. The panic threatens to consume me entirely as I press further into the familiar surroundings of my living room.

Alone in the dimly lit space, the full force of the panic attack hits me like a tidal wave. My heart pounds in my chest, a relentless drumbeat of fear and desperation. My vision swims, and the room spins around me as I sink to the floor, gasping for air.

I collapse to the floor, curling my legs into my chest as a sob tears through my frame. The sound of my own cries is grating to my ears. I wish Elias were here. The floor isn't exactly comfortable; my shoulder aches where it presses into the hardwood, and the inability to catch my breath is exacerbated by the blossoming cold. Well, shit.

"Asteria, you're overreacting." My mother? "You can come out when you've learned your lesson good and well." The darkness and cold sticks to every inch of bare skin, and the walls are tight around me. Ah, I must be having a dream. This is one of those times she locked me away somewhere because I was poorly behaved as she said.

So cold. It's the way my dreams are haunted by either my mother, Jon, or Elias each night. I've got some fun variations I suppose.

It's so cold. When you're really cold, it burns until it doesn't, and that's the scary part. It hurts, your fingers feel as if they are going to burst, and then to warm back up is to feel you have been submerged into hot needles and pins. The cold is inescapable, and monstrous in the way it burns. The Lonely always did tear any warmth I had from me.

I wake up in a hot sweat beneath a mountain of blankets. "You're awake! How are you survivin' down there?"

Michael is perched daintily on my couch, tall and out of place. His proportions are strange and gangly, his head is bowed, looming over me. A small smile with more teeth than belong in his mouth, sharper than they ought to be, greets me. "Why are you here?" As always, his presence is both comforting and unnerving. It cuts through the Lonely, but its edge is rather sharp.

"A little eye sent me your way."

My voice is crackly with post-nap vocal fry as I hazard a hopeful guess, "Elias?"

He cackles with a shake of his head and a widening smile, "Oh no, no, not him. Sorry, dear."

"Why are you helping?" I press him again.

"You're not weak, Helen," he replies leaning in even closer. "You just bit off more than you could chew. It is rather entertaining having you around though!" Looking into his eyes is like staring into the sun with a kaleidoscope.

I sit up slowly, pushing the hot and sticky blankets off of me, I have to peel the final layer from me, yet the remnants of the nightmare continue to cling to me. A wave of exhaustion washes over me again, my eyelids grow heavy with sleep. I pull myself to my feet, ignoring Michael as I wander off to my bedroom. He follows behind me, his steps light and barely there, but I can feel the static air of his presence. As I tuck myself under the covers, I watch him vanish behind my closed door. He's been strangely…friendly. I push that aside. I can't make enemies of all of my peers. I don't know that Michael and I are comparable, but peers fits I suppose.

I do not expect this will be a good night's sleep, haunted by echoes of the Lonely, my mother, and insecurity regarding Elias. Am I overreacting for feeling hurt that Elias sent me off to do that? Is it wrong of me to feel upset that he didn't even make sure I came out of it alright? I can't shake off any of these horrid feelings lately. I'll try to sleep them off.