Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Alright guys, I’ll post the first chapter very shortly but I want to post this so I know it stays.  There’s a few more problematic Hiss Chant lines that I don’t have ideas for.

They are: “Under the conceptual reality behind this reality you must want these waves to drag you away.”

“breaking the first the second the third the fourth wall, the fifth wall, floor; no floor: you fall!”

And:  “An earworm is a tune you can’t stop humming in a dream: "Baby baby baby, yeah."”

Help is appreciated!

Chapter Text

The sun peeks through the window of the cottage, through the pale blue curtains.  It illuminates the face of her love.  Emily.   She looks so peaceful asleep, nothing like she is when she’s awake.  Jesse shakes her awake anyway, disregarding her beauty.

The chickens need to be fed, and Jesse was not going to be the one doing it again.  The blonde groans, but ultimately gets up.  The bags under her eyes certainly don’t detract from her beauty.  Emily opens the window, letting a breeze into their bedroom.

The birds sing outside, but all Emily can hear is Jesse softly humming as she takes out the bread they made last night.  As she looks outside, she realizes that the ivy has become unruly again.  She’ll need to prune that today.

”Jesse?  I think we’ll need to work on the garden again today.”, Emily says, putting on a loose white shirt and jeans.  The one thing they ever needed to buy was clothes.  That, and whatever they couldn’t grow themselves.  

“Hey, do you think the milk is still good?  Or will I have to go buy some.  I haven’t been able to smell for a while.”, Jesse asks, handing the carton to Emily.  “Smells fine to me, even though the date says otherwise”, Emily replies, pointing to the date on the side.  According to it, the milk should have expired two days ago.

”Thanks.”, Jesse says, going back to making breakfast for the two of them.  Their cottage is small, with only a kitchen, small living room, bathroom, and a bedroom.  Ivy grows along the outside walls, flowering with brilliant colors this time of year.  Beyond the house is a flower garden fenced off with white fencing, and a vegetable garden similarly closed off.

Beyond even that is the woods, and the dirt road that leads to their property.  Jesse prides herself on only having to go beyond that road once a month for supplies.  

Sadly, she still has to leave their picturesque homestead to work.  Thankfully for her, today was a day to be home.  Emily, a scientist, also isn't working.  More often than not, she works from home, shoddy as their Internet access is.  Their lives are simple ones, but the right kind of simple.  

Jesse steps out onto the porch and breathes in the early morning air.  “I am so glad I came here from the city.”, she says to nobody in particular.  New York City is a dump compared to the beautiful green woods and the clear brook that runs through them.  And above all, nothing could ever be as beautiful as Emily Pope. 

She goes into the house to find her bread stolen and Emily nowhere in sight.  ‘She must be already feeding the chickens’, she thinks.  Sure enough, she looks out the window to see her wife already doing the exact thing she didn’t want to do today.  Jesse loves her chickens, but she has a garden to take care of today.

Donning gloves and wielding only a trowel, she makes her way to the vegetable garden.  The gate is latched, so no animals should have gotten in.  Should have.  But, the tomato vines are trampled all the same.  Sighing, she pulls the vines up and puts them back on the pole they had been climbing.  At least some red tomatoes survived.

She puts the surviving tomatoes into a basket, along with some peppers, green beans, and cucumbers.  Weeds are already growing back since she had last uprooted them.  Those will have to be taken care of.

Jesse hums a song that she doesn’t even think exists, while carrying the vegetables back to the cottage.  The smell of flowers is heavy in the air.  Emily has already started to trim back the ivy so it doesn’t block the window.  "Painting the walls again is not going to be fun," Jesse mutters, looking over the worn and peeling white paint on the wooden walls of their cottage.  

She can’t put off uprooting weeds any longer.  Humming the same song that she still can’t identify, she skips back to the garden.  “I guess I’ll start with these little bastards.”, she mutters, gesturing to  the large green weeds near the zucchini plants.  

Armed with her shovel, she digs up a few before spotting a worm.  Emily likes worms for some reason.  She thinks they’re interesting.  And Jesse has no reason to not trust her wife on the fact that earthworms are interesting.  

The worm crawls into her gloved hand, and she walks over to Emily.  She sees the small creature as soon as she looks at Jesse.  “Hi, little friend!”, she exclaims, her voice going up at least a few octaves.    She takes the worm from Jesse.  It wiggles around, trying to go back to the ground.  

Jesse leaves the two to get acquainted and goes back to attacking weeds.  Then, a nagging thought appears in the back of her head.  Something isn’t right.  A flash of blue spins rapidly around her head. It appears frantic, as if trying to get her attention.  It (she?) clouds her vision in spinning deep-blue fractals and a faint, distant chime, a resonance.

Then, for a moment, she’s somewhere else.  A machine beeps and four people stand around her.  One has very short hair, as if it had been shaved and is now growing back.  Another is older, with an odd mark near his lip.  Another has dark hair and looks very worried.  Most shockingly of all, Emily is there.  It looks as if she was in a hospital of sorts.

”Director!  Finally!”, the older man says, the first to notice her stirring.  Her head hurts, the light burning her eyes.  This dream, hallucination, recurring nightmare, it isn't real, it can't  be real,  anyone else  would say it isn't real.  Even though part of herself, deep and unknowable, says that it is.  "Just a dream," she was told as a kid.  "Stop being a fucking weirdo," she was told as an adult.

Jesse closes her eyes again.  She reappears back in the vegetable garden, Emily still pruning the ivy.  "Just another nightmare," she says, returning to yanking weeds out of the ground.

The scent of flowers calms her, even though she feels like she is out of time.  

Chapter Text

Around the Oldest House, the ominous gray clouds that blot out the summer sky circle.  Clouds don't take kindly to the Oldest House.  Not that anyone in there would know.  There are no windows in the building for anyone to look out of.  The walls are also too thick to hear the thunder or the torrential rain.  Sadly, the only one who would object to such a thunderstorm is not currently in the relative safety of the Oldest House.  Jesse Faden had retired to her apartment hours before.  Just now, she had glanced at the news, and then at the sky.  She was going to be in the middle of the biggest thunderstorm of the summer.  

"Fuck, I can't find them!", Jesse says, digging through a drawer of her apartment.  "Can't find what?  If you're looking for the flashlight and batteries, they're in the kitchen.", Emily replies, grabbing several blankets from their bedroom.  Emily, disregarding the Bureau rules, had brought some paperwork home with her.  This paperwork concerns the Nail, she has been studying it for a week.  Jesse gave the Board an ultimatum, that they would let Emily study the Foundation, and Jesse would stop talking to Former.  Although, Jesse would not stop talking to Former.  She still owes them a panini, after all.  And what was the Board going to do about it?  They're stuck in the Astral Plane.  

Emily has been preparing the apartment for a possible blackout, since it's better to be safe than sorry.  "My headphones!  I can't find them anywhere!", Jesse replies, sounding more panicked than usual.  Did she not bring them to New York City?  Did she leave them in Chicago?  Jesse wishes they were here.  A lightning bolt strikes a lightning rod on another skyscraper, followed by thunder.  At the sound of thunder, Jesse almost jumps out of her skin.  "Fuck!", she shouts.  "What happened?", Emily calls from another room.  "I fucking hate thunder!", she replies, giving up the search and going back to the couch.

Jesse tries in vain to cover her ears with a pillow, but nothing helps.  From the thunder bringing up that specific line of the Hiss Chant, to the horrible memories from Ordinary, to the countless storms spent huddling under an overhang in the streets, nothing good can come from a thunderstorm.  Emily reappears from the kitchen with two mugs of hot chocolate.  "Are you okay?", she asks, handing Jesse a mug that is decidedly more full than her own.  "Not in the slightest.", Jesse replies, ignoring the scalding heat and drinking half of her mug.  

"Do you want to tell me why?", Emily asks, draping a blanket around herself and her girlfriend.  "Well, I don't really want to tell my whole life story, but I guess I can explain some things.", she replies.  Emily perks up at the idea of an explanation.  If she had anything to take notes with, she would have already jotted something down.  That something would probably be how beautiful Jesse's eyes are, or how Polaris seems to envelop them both, or how the clouds seem to be unable to form over the Oldest House that she can see from her window.  The sheer size of the Brutalist skyscraper that they call home makes her wonder how everyone doesn't notice it.  Although, she does know the reason.

"It was Ordinary.  When they came, there was a thunderstorm.  When Dylan was carried away, and I ran off.  I lived in the woods there for a week, in the cold.  Then, of course, I got shipped off to foster care, and that's a whole other nightmare.  Also, if Darling ever comes back, I call first dibs on slapping him.", Jesse replies, as Polaris spins idly in her eyes.  

"No, Dylan already has that honor.  And if he doesn't wake up before he comes back, I have first dibs, I've called it since last week.  I could have studied shit, but no.  Safety, my ass, we did way more dangerous shit together than studying a slide projector.", Emily retorts, laughing slightly.  "Yeah?  Like what?", Jesse jokes.

"Well, once, we found a pencil that could hop realities.  We fucked around with that thing for two weeks, me and Dr. Darling and Carla Vaughn.  I wonder if she's alive still?  I didn't see her on any missing boards, but still.  We once found a dimension made of nothing but cotton candy.  And yes, it was edible.  I still have notes on it in a filing cabinet somewhere.  I probably put them in one of Dr. Darling's old offices, seeing as they're all mine now.  I'm going to mess up all of his offices to piss him off if he's out there somewhere.", Emily replies.  

As Emily was about to put her notes away, the lights flickered and died.  As Jesse looks out the window, she sees the entire city go dark.  "Well, at least the Oldest House will have power.  Do you want to go spend the night there?  Without air conditioning, this place is going to get hot fast.", Emily asks, taking her briefcase from the coffee table where it usually stays.  "Sounds like a plan.  At least I shouldn't be able to hear the thunder there.", Jesse replies, changing into her Director's suit in the light of the flashlight.  "Have I ever told you how hot you look in that suit?", Emily comments, as she opens the apartment door.  The hallway beyond is pitch black.  

"I probably look better with it off.", she jokes, joining her girlfriend in the hallway.  "You definitely do.  Now, I found another of Darling's offices in a corner in Central Research, wanna go mess it up?", Emily replies, taking Jesse's hand.  

"I would like nothing more.", Jesse replies, as they walk to Emily's beat-up Toyota, ready to wreak havoc on an unsuspecting empty office. 

Wreathed in a resonance resembling Polaris, what is left of Dr. Casper Darling smiles.  He had hoped that Jesse would find happiness, and he wished the same for Emily.  Even if that happiness means one less office to go back to when he finally gets tired of hopping realities.  

Chapter Text

It’s coming.  Casper Darling can feel it.  Hedron knows, and he does as well.  The other Resonance will take control soon.  He doesn’t want to be in the crossfire when it strikes, quick and decisive.

He didn’t get to fix Dylan.  Nobody can fix him, or that’s at least what he tells himself.  So he threw himself into Hedron, hoping it would numb the pain.  Left Dylan to other people in the hopes that maybe the problem would solve itself.

But problems don’t work like that.  Altered Items need ritual, but Dr. Darling has no such thing.  He thrives on both chaos and order, planned and spur-of-the-moment.  Lately, there has been nothing but chaos.

At least Emily will be safe.  He wouldn’t ever say it to her, but he does want to protect her.  Maybe that’s why he kept her away from the Prime Candidate Program, and the Slide Projector.  She would have loved to study it.  Hopefully she has enough sense to keep her HRA on.  

And Carla Vaughn, and Raya Underhill down in the Threshold.  They have HRAs, or so he had been told.  If they were to fall to the coming invasion, he would never forgive himself.  

He must prepare himself to be blown away.  To travel through the Oceanview Motel, and to leave this dimension.  The Rituals that must be completed in the Motel are child’s play compared to what he must face at his destination, if there even is one.  Just somewhere that isn’t going to be overrun would be fine.

There is one person to say goodbye to.  Hopefully Emily won’t mind him leaving.  Did she ever like him?  Or does she resent him?  It won’t matter soon.  It’ll be him and Hedron left soon.  Maybe it was always meant to be that way.  Him and the Resonance, watching over the Bureau for eternity.  Just as the Board does.

That one person is Director Trench.  The man he had fell for, and the man that would never like him back.  The Director only falls for his work.  Twice have Directors fell for the Bureau.  He should know.  He designed the Northmoor Sarcophagus Containment, the mysterious NSC that the Maintenance people take care of.

He hasn’t been to the Maintenance Sector in a while.  If he wasn’t so busy with the end of times, he’d visit, even just to drop by the Black Rock Quarry.  Or to pay a visit to Northmoor, even though the man inside the NSC is hardly the man that Trench and he used to work under.  

A whisper beneath his feet affirms that fact.  A voice from a dream, a dream of red caves and a strange piece of Astral rock and of the Board, flickering red.  And the chant starts again.

He knocks on the Director’s door.  He had not bothered giving him an HRA.  He knows that the Director he once loved is too far gone to save.  Fragments of the same chant can be heard inside the room, then normal speaking.

“Come in!”, a voice calls, weakly.  “Director Trench?”, Casper calls, looking around the room for anything odd. Nothing is out of the ordinary.  That shouldn’t be a phrase here anymore, seeing as there’s an Ordinary that is decidedly un-Ordinary. 

His glasses are askew.  That’s the first thing he notices.  They’re never like that.  He holds the Service Weapon idly, instead of messing with papers or delivering orders.  He actually has time to talk.  All of those things are out of the ordinary.

“The Hotline hasn’t called.  Casper, I think the Board has abandoned us.  Our time as kings of the FBC has come to a close.  But who will fill our positions?”, Trench observes, staring blankly at a portrait of himself on the wall.  It flickers between him and a portrait of P7.  Jesse Faden.  Sister of the Dylan that he couldn’t help.

Would she help the Bureau or tear it apart?  Powerful child, she was, now a powerful woman.  But they needed a control.  Someone to leave alone, to test the other one against.  In New York City now.  Perhaps she would help.  For his own sake, Dr. Darling hopes that he is not there when she wreaks her (albeit justified) revenge.

”I nominate Emily Pope for my position, although several of my staff would probably object to that!”, Darling jokes.  He’s already the butt of half the FBC’s jokes, the other half being poor Frederick Langston down in the Containment Sector, so why not crack one more before the world ends?

He doesn’t see a reason as to why not.  The Director looks thoughtful.  Then, that horrible chant starts again.

”You are a worm through- GAH!  Fuck off, fuck off, fuck off!”, Trench shouts, moving his hand as if swatting an invisible fly.  Darling has come here with a gift.  A small box containing one piece of wood.  Something he had kept in his pocket since the days where the two of them would go on field missions.

Something they swore they’d keep till the day they died.  “What- why are you giving this back to me?”, he asks, as he opens the box.  

“Hedron knows.  We both will be away soon, not in this reality at least.  At least you will have something from me.  I could disappear now for all I know, the process is done.  Like searching something on a really slow computer, and you’re just waiting for it to load.”, Darling replies.

“But- why?  Half of me wants to do the equivalent of dropping a lit match into an ocean of gasoline and the other half isn’t sure, this is no time to leave!  At least tell someone else all of the shit if you’re going to leave!”, Trench yells, throwing the trinket back to him.

Darling sighs.  He knew it would end like this.  Calmly, he places the piece of wood back on the Director’s desk, and takes one final look at the man he’s always loved.  Hopefully the reminder of their best mission will bring him a little happiness before the end.  

The walk through the Ashtray Maze is solemn.  He knows how it must go.  He must lock himself in the Hedron chamber and wait.  Hedron will take him to the Oceanview, and he’ll wait there for a week or so.  To get his bearings, and get a layout for where to go next.  For where to go as essentially a reality hitchhiker.

With the one large HRA he has protecting his most precious research project, he waits inside the room.  He wishes he could touch Hedron.  Is it alive?  It’s almost like a child to him at this point.  He could say that he spends more time with it than actual living, breathing humans, and nobody would bat an eyelid.

Is this how he will be remembered?  As yet another mad scientist consumed by his work and the paranormal?  Dylan, if he makes it through this mess, will certainly hate him.  He doesn’t blame him, at this point.  Who would hate anyone for hating you if you already hate yourself? 

“Goodbye, Dylan.  Goodbye, Emily, and all the others that put up with me.  Goodbye, Director Trench, old friend of mine.  I’m beyond it all now, but not lost.   Think of me as found, finally.”, he whispers, as Hedron takes him, finally.

The man who wore sweaters and bow ties to his coworkers’ amusement, and tried so desperately to help all those that he could, vanished from the Oldest House.  The Oldest House would not mourn his loss.  Nor would the Director, caught in the throes of the Hiss Chant, already on his way to turn on the Slide Projector.  Emily, too busy contemplating the reason why there were so many Bureau secrets, would not notice either.

He was there, and then he was gone.  But he hoped that happiness would come for them all.  

Chapter Text

"Oh fuck.", Jesse mutters, staring at the cute pink calendar hanging on the wall. The day after this cold, rainy one is none other than Emily's birthday. 'How can I forget something so important', she thinks to herself. Thankfully, Emily is still sleeping. She still has time to buy a gift. But what about a party? Emily would be fine with just going out to dinner, but someone with a Director's salary should plan something big. Plus, having so many people at her command, throwing a Bureau-wide surprise party would be much better. Arish would definitely help.

She pulls on some shoes, and runs to the parking area. Her car is waiting where it always is, ready to go. She can't just get any gift. Emily had let it slip before that she liked pearls. So, the jewelry store is going to be the best place to go. And why just get a necklace when you can get everything? When they were walking near the store a week ago, she had been looking at a ring with a red gemstone. A ruby, maybe? She wasn't sure. "Good morning!", someone calls to her as she makes her way to the car. "Same to you!", she replies. "Can't believe I forgot her birthday.", she whispers, pulling out of the dingy parking area.

The street isn't much better, the sky is disgusting and traffic is horrible. Sometimes, she misses the smaller cities. At least they were simpler. Although, the stability of the Bureau and their two-bedroom apartment (although the second bedroom is unused), is certainly a comfort. And the extra money for things like this certainly does help. Thankfully, there is one place to park close to the store. Carrying an umbrella, she steps out into the rain. Everyone seems to almost fade into the background. In a smaller place, everyone stands out. But not here. She wonders if this is how people see the Oldest House. As nothing more than part of an endless background. The bell on the door jingles as she opens it, and the bright light stuns her a bit. Everywhere she goes is dim. Even the Oldest House isn't the best place to work when it comes to light levels.

She spots the pearls quickly, shining in the lights placed in their glass cases. "Hi, I'm here to buy a few things.", she says to the woman behind all the glass cases, who looks bored out of her mind. "Which ones?", the woman replies. She points to a pearl necklace, and the gold-and-ruby ring that Emily had been looking at before. "You know, one of my coworkers actually thought that ring was haunted. Might be true, nobody's bought it.", the woman comments as she takes both items out. They look beautiful, the ring even more so. "This will be $1720. Thank you for shopping here.", she tells Jesse. Jesse cringes internally at the price, but reminds herself that she came here knowing that it would be expensive. And she has more than enough to pay for it. She hands over the money, and takes the jewelry.

"Are you getting this as a gift for anyone? I can wrap them if you are.", the cashier asks. "You can? Thank you so much!", Jesse replies, handing her the things she just bought. After a few moments of waiting, Jesse leaves with her expensive birthday presents. Hopefully, Emily likes them. "What now? I guess I could go get a smoothie or something, then go back to the Oldest House. Yeah. I need to talk to Arish anyway.", she says to herself in the warmth of her car. The smoothie shop isn't that far from the Bureau, some low and medium-level staff will go there on their lunch break. High-level staff are usually too busy to leave.

She wonders if Dylan would come to the party. He usually steers clear of the Bureau. Although, nearly every member of the Research Division has made it their personal mission to somehow apologize to him, regardless of if they had ever even seen him. Some Rangers have made it their mission as well. Emily was the first, followed by Langston, then Arish. Raya Underhill was the only one to refuse, stating that she hadn't even met her brother.

Classic Raya Underhill. Nothing on planet Earth would ever get her out of the Mold Threshold. Even going so far as to send others to the cafeteria to get food for everyone else down there. The reason the smoothie shop is so popular is that there's a drive-thru. That is the only reason. Oh, and that it's quick, cheap, and surprisingly good. The strawberry banana ones are the best, according to a survey Emily had sent out as a joke two weeks ago. Raising everyone's spirits since the lockdown was her only priority at the time. 'Hm. I wonder if this ring is actually haunted? I think Emily might like it even more if it is.', Jesse thinks to herself.

After a short time waiting in the drive-thru, she leaves with her smoothie. Parking at the Oldest House is easy, at least. A small mercy from the ever-shifting Brutalist skyscraper. Just last week, Darling's biggest office that Emily was currently using shifted down several stories. The door led into the Maintenance sector, specifically the Black Rock Quarry. An Astral Fugue almost got her, if it hadn't been for a few Rangers there.

Since the Black Rock Quarry is hazardous even by Bureau standards, she picked another office. With Dr. Darling's habit of making hidden offices, there were always more to choose from. Jesse and Emily have an agreement that they'd leave the office in Dimensional Research alone in case he ever came back. She runs over to the nearest Control Point, assuming that Arish would be in the Ranger Training course that she spent hours in trying to get to the Object of Power inside. Yeah, fuck whoever made that course so hard. How does anyone even clean inside the end zone? Does Ahti have to do the course each time he needs to clean in there? Something tells her that he doesn't. The mysterious ways of Ahti the Janitor are not for her to comprehend.

Opening that door brings memories of the Hiss to Jesse- the rush to this room, the Shield ability, the final fight in the Astral Plane where Shield saved her ass. "Faden! Good afternoon!", he says, as the automated voice recording plays. "Please, just call me Jesse.", she replies, standing next to him. "So, what do you need?", he asks. "I need help. Emily's birthday is tomorrow and I need to plan a surprise party. Would you want to come?", she replies. "Of course! I don't think I have anything tomorrow.", he says.

One down, one to go. Take the nearest Control Point to the Panopticon, ask Langston if he can handle decorations, and then crash in the Director's office. Best get started. She appears on the other side of the doors to the Panopticon, a place that she doesn't really like to be. It's too imposing, too many Altered Items, too many places to fall and die.

"Oh, Director Faden! What brings you to this part of the Oldest House?", Langston asks, sitting at a control panel. "Assuming no Altered Items run off, could you help me decorate for Emily's party in Central Executive? I totally forgot until today.", she asks the Panopticon Supervisor. "Well, that's officially the weirdest thing anyone's asked me here. And once someone asked me the whereabouts of a flying toilet. But I'll help you, sure.", he replies. "Thank you so much!", she says, before disappearing back into the Panopticon and the Control Point beyond it. Even the Foundations of the Oldest House, and the Nail and Astral Bleed are more welcoming than the Panopticon. Not that Langston or any of the staff there are bad. The staff of the Panopticon are nice enough, although it might just be respect for the Directorship talking. Jesse's hatred of the Panopticon comes from the ever-present sensation of being watched. Whether it's the Board or the Altered Items, something has their eyes on you. And Jesse does not like to be watched.

Jesse's office is one of the best places in the Bureau, according to her own observations. The chair is comfortable, there's a hidden lounge that's good enough to sleep in, and it's private. Although she can't shake the feeling that the office belongs to someone else. The presence of Director Trench, Dr. Darling, Salvador, and Marshall still looms over the Bureau, and especially, this office.

Flashbacks of memories that aren't hers come to her in this office. Flashbacks of arguments between Trench and Darling, complete with lines of the Hiss chant and flashes of red, and of heartfelt kisses between the same pair. Of Marshall- trying to understand just what was happening between the Director and the Head of Research. Even a moment- in the Hedron chamber- of a man walking in and sealing the door, too blurry to see. It must be Darling. No person in the Old Bureau would be so attached to Hedron except for him.

She walks into the hidden lounge and crashes face-first into the couch. In one of Darling's many hidden offices, Emily must be going through files. But that's her problem, Jesse's is the fact that she only got three hours of sleep last night. It's time to sleep. Her sleep is dreamless, a mercy that the House will bestow on her sometimes. Other times it will be Hiss-laden nightmares, more snippets of memories that aren’t hers– Marshall’s are the most frequent–, and even rarer, Ordinary.

She gets up and heads for the nearest Control Point that will take her to Central Research.  That's where Emily is holed up.  If Langston and Arish did their jobs right, then Central Executive will be decorated and ready to go.  "Em!  Happy Birthday!", Jesse yells into the vast expanse of bright light and plants that takes up most of Emily's favorite place in the Bureau.  Many a night was spent here sitting on a ledge and basking in the light streaming in from the ceiling.  

"Thanks honey!", Emily yells back, running to Jesse with a folder in her hands.  She throws it to the side and hugs Jesse.  "Who gave you the right to be so cute?",  Jesse teases her.  "Maybe we should go research that somewhere else, haha.", she jokes back.  

"Meet at my office, then?", Jesse asks, leaning in to kiss her Head of Research.  "Of course.", she replies, reciprocating the kiss.  They stay that way for only a few seconds, though if you asked them, they would say it felt like an eternity.  The two of them, holding hands, run into the Sector Elevator and press the button for Executive.  The door opens, and confetti is blown in their faces.

"Happy birthday, Emily!", everyone yells, as Ahti sighs and mops up the confetti.  Jesse wonders why he just waited there instead of joining the crowd.  Ultimately, she doesn't question it.  Several researchers pull her girlfriend aside and they walk away, laughing.  Arish runs up to Jesse, almost knocking her over.  "It was a major success!  Langston went back to the Panopticon though.", he says, picking confetti out of his hair.

She looks up, seeing the banners, table full of hastily-prepared food, and a few gifts.  She assumes that Emily's researcher friends already knew her birthday.  After a few hours of games, drinking, and general Bureau-style chaos (consisting of wild stories, dares, and even trying to send a message to Underhill), Emily picked up the two boxes from Jesse.  

She opens them, and her face lights up.  "Jess!  You shouldn't have!", she exclaims, kissing Jesse yet again.  As Emily clasps the necklace around her neck, she looks to all her friends.  Those that survived the Hiss, anyway.  Dr. Darling's old assistant, Hubert Tan, she hadn't seen him.  Neither had she seen Dr. Lang, or Dr. Mason.  And it may not be perfect here, Emily realizes, but it's close enough.  Maybe not a family as it used to be, but the pieces are starting to come together.  Just growing pains from getting a new Director, and those would fade in time.  Hopefully.

Chapter Text

"So, you say that there's a whole inverted dimension in that mirror?" Emily asks Jesse as they stand in front of the mentioned Altered Item.  "Yeah.  Are you sure you want to go in?" Jesse replies.  "Of course!" the Head of Research exclaims, holding a clipboard and pen to document what they find.

After Jesse had told Emily about esseJ and the Mirror Dimension, the excitable scientist knew she had to see it.  Jesse was uneasy about it, recalling the fight with her Hiss-corrupted inverted self.  Emily assured her girlfriend that she would be fine, but Jesse insisted on coming along.  'Maybe just to watch her do her thing,'  Jesse thinks to herself.  Emily researching things she loves is something Jesse always finds cute.  

Together, the two of them step through the mirror and into the blue-tinted area beyond.  'Whoa, this is amazing!' Emily thinks to herself, picking up some loose papers.  All of them are written backwards, almost illegible.  ""?kniht uoy od tahw ,ylimE" Jesse says, the words turning out backwards.  Emily notes this on her clipboard.  The two of them, understanding that verbal communication would be impossible, resort to writing.  To their shock, that is reversed as well.

Emily would have to reverse her backwards notes later.  Then, from the Synchronicity Lab, two figures come out.  Both wear the Asynchronous Suit, and they hold hands as they walk ever closer.  ".thgir kool t'nod yehT ?elpoep esoht era ohw ,esseJ" the one that looks exactly like Emily says.  They're exact copies of Jesse and Emily.  Emily holds out her hand for her inverted counterpart to shake.  She does, and Jesse does the same with her copy.

Emily wonders how the Mirror Dimension managed to clear out the Hiss.  Maybe Jesse cleansing the Mirror also cleansed the dimension?  Or esseJ cleared it out herself just as Jesse did?  Emily again makes notes on her clipboard.  ylimE sits next to her, looking at the notes.  "".suoiruc er'uoy ees I" she says.  Emily can't understand her, but through context, she gleans the meaning.  This version knows her reason for coming.  Luckily for Emily, ylimE is more than happy to explain, in her own weird way.

She bring a mirror over to the Head of Research, and paper.  With this, the inverted text that ylimE writes would be reflected so Emily could read it.  "Hiss got cleared by Jesse.  My Jesse, not the other Jesse.  The other Jesse killed Jesse.  But Jesse came back.  Go to Central Research?", ylimE writes.  "Confusing.  Sure.  Bring notes.", Emily writes back.  Jesse had been having a one-sided conversation with esseJ, whose responses Jesse could not understand.  So, esseJ was forced to act out her answers, most of which were about fighing Hiss.  

ylimE and Emily look on at the two idiots in front of them, engaged in an unwanted game of charades in the effort for Jesse to understand esseJ.  She got it after a while.  "?enim sa emas eht saw maerd ruoy ,tiaW", Jesse asks, as ylimE copies the question for Emily to read.  It says, "Wait, your dream was the same as mine?".  "Hiss got us bad.  Same for you?", she writes.

"Yes.", Emily writes back.  Out of nowhere, esseJ starts laughing.  Jesse must have told a joke.  Together, the four of them walk through the Ritual Division, esseJ and ylimE holding hands to lead the way.  The signs of House Shifts are frequent in the inverted Ritual Division, where the two leading the way stop.  Emily can't help but think how far this place goes.  Is there a whole reflected world out there beyond the House?  A reflected Dylan, or reflected Darling?  What about Dr. Underhill?  Is the Mold threshold here too?

Answering her question, an inverted Raya Underhill is seen ascending the elevator from the Mold Threshold.  "!tuoba no gniog saw esseJ elpoep noisnemiD rorriM eht era ereH !llihrednU .rD", ylimE calls out, as the mirrored Raya seems a bit taken aback.  Despite her apprehension of there being two Jesses to be annoyed with, ayaR shakes Jesse's hand anyway.  

".meht ot klat ot etirw ot evah uoY", ylimE explains to ayaR.  ayaR nods, pulling out a pencil and paper.  Together, they make their way to the edge of the Mold Threshold, ever-present as it is in Jesse's home dimension.  As ayaR explains though writing about the Hiss and Mold, esseJ and ylimE sneak off for a quick kiss and a moment rid of their all-too-curious reflected versions.  Emily wonders if House Shifts are more common here, or if this has just been a bad day for Mirror FBC.

She thinks that the latter happened.  Something about the House just seemed off back in their home dimension, and here is no different.  The House acting up is no uncommon occurrence, usually.  The Ritual Division in particular is prone to violent shifts.  The Research Sector in general is volatile, shifting more than any other sector.  Investigations takes a close second, Containment being the most stable of all.

The Ritual Division usually has five different procedures going just so their workers don't get trapped by the larger shifts.  Even then, accidents happen.  Nobody had seen Dr. Hubert Tan, Darling's assistant-turned-Ritual Researcher, since the House shifted his office down to the Foundation.  At least, until he came riding up the cart from the Restricted Area with the Sankarin Tango playing full-blast like some Greek hero climbing out of the Underworld.  But, instead of a sword or spear, he held some extremely old notes written by Dr. Theodore Ash, Jr.  Emily remembers him running to her desk and dropping the formidable stack of forgotten files like it was a pile of gold and jewels.

To her, they were.  They were the most interesting thing she'd seen that month, for sure.  A lot of being Head Of Research is just mundane paperwork.  esseJ takes them to the Sector Elevator, ayaR going back to the Mold Threshold.  Raya and ayaR are truly the same in that nothing on planet Earth could ever pry them from their precious Mold.  "Even since Jesse fought Mold-1, she's still down there almost 24/7", ylimE writes to Emily.  

".ereh pots dluohs ew kniht I ,lleW", esseJ states, turning around to lead the visitors back to the Victorian Mirror.  Their visit had been a high point in an otherwise monotonous day in the Mirrored FBC.  Jesse wonders whether esseJ ate the same thing she did for breakfast.  Does she pour the milk before the cereal?  Is it taboo in this dimension to pour cereal then milk?  

Pondering these questions, both Emily and Jesse step back across the Mirror into their own world.  ylimE waves goodbye, as the mirror is locked back into its containment area.  "You sure it's us that got through?", Emily jokes.  Jesse laughs.  "That was weirder than when I fought Mirror Me.  Seriously.", she replies.

Emily jogs to her lab to transcribe her notes, detailing just how expansive the Victorian Mirror reflections are.  She can't help about think how similar they are.  esseJ and ylimE are as loving as her and Jesse.  She wonders if Jesse cleansing the Mirror brought them back.  At the end of the day, what matters is that they're there, and they're nice.  Despite the language barrier.  

Chapter Text

One foot in front of the other.  The hall of the Oceanview Motel seems small, but it can go for miles if you keep wandering.  Darling tries to open the doors, but nothing works.  There was no ritual to complete to open the door emblazoned with the Black Pyramid.  He was trapped, wandering the Motel for weeks.  Watching Jesse dip in and out, unable to  follow.  Sent a message once, and she laughed.  He thought it would cheer her on, fighting past the Hiss.  Hopefully she heard the whisper at the end.  Maybe someone would find him.

The Hotline call was more direct.  To send her on to the motel, where he manifested a particular fragment of the Hedron Resonance.  Or, as Jesse calls her, Polaris.  Hedron doesn't merely spin blue in his eyes, it blinds him entirely in white nothingness.  At first it was subtle.  Hedron was training him to understand.  But the end goal was missed altogether.  Instead of leaving his body behind, it merely shifted to this motel, this prison.

And now there was no escape.  At first, there was water.  He'd find bottles of it around all over the place.  Food, as well.  As if the Oceanview was keeping him alive.  But it had been days since he had seen any water.  Dehydration was setting in.  He could barely rasp out a sentence, much less call for help if anyone came near.  'What will happen to my body if I die here?', he thinks, starting to lose his coherency.

He leans against a wall, too tired and worn to continue walking.  He knows he'll die in this motel.  Sitting, he reflects on what came before.  Ordinary?  No, too soon?  What came before that?  He tries to think, but it slips though his fingers like water.  Or sand.  Didn't he tell his Dimensional Research staff to not touch his sand?  Would Emily research it?  He never got the chance.

Emily.  The bright shining star of the FBC.  He should have told her more.  Left her with more than resentment and questions.  But would she have followed him into the dark if she knew?  Perhaps she was better off not knowing.  Hedron would have taken her too, and she would be dying alongside him.  Raya.  He admits it, there was more than friendship between them.  He can count on her to not get killed by her curiosity.  Both her and Emily have good heads on their shoulders.  To her, the Mold would always be far more captivating than his newest whim that he'd sacrifice sleep to pursue.  He always liked her commitment to staying on one project.

Trench.  Was he salvageable?  The last he saw him, he was ranting about slides, slide projector?  He's too dehydrated to think clearly.  The Nostalgia? Department.  The Hiss, the chant, the words that Hedron protected him from.  Trench, the Director, the man behind the invasion.  Not his fault.  Darling's fault.  For letting him in to Slidescape-36.  His fault his love got corrupted.  If he had the strength, he'd certainly hurt himself.  But the Motel seems to be more than happy to do that for him.

Dylan, his greatest failure and a testament to just how awful he was.  The boy, once a promising prospect that Darling was more than happy to devote his time to, turned to little more than another forgotten project.  How could he do that to a living, breathing human?  With what little energy he has left, he slapped himself.  Then, without even the strength to lift his head, he lays down on the carpeted hallway floor.

How far was he from the door with the black pyramid?  Only a few feet, maybe.  To him, it feels like light-years.  It might as well be.  Unless someone comes rocketing through that door right now, they won't find anything but a corpse.  By the door, he stays.  Hedron clouds his vision once more, reducing it to pure white.  He can tell it's taking up a few life processes by now.  Breathing is taken over, his heart beating only because Hedron forces it to.  

And then, he's back.  In his office in the FBC.  But it isn't right.  Where are the Hedron symbols for passcodes?  Where's the mess?  Then, he sees himself.  At least fifteen years younger, wearing proper lab coat and bow tie.  At his side, in a different office chair, is Dylan Faden.  10 years old.  They're talking, but he can't hear it.  Hedron hasn't focused him in enough yet.

But, as the image gets clearer, so too does the sound.  "How long will I be here, Casper?" Dylan asks, his voice distinctly recognizable.  "A long time, I think.  One day you'll lead this place.  Think of it, you'll be my boss one day!" his younger self replies.  'Where did I go wrong?', Darling thinks.  Dylan smiles a bit.  How had he come back to this?  Does Hedron know he's dying?  But then why would it torture him so?  Isn't dehydration torture enough?

Then, a shimmer and two words appear.  "Help Comes".  Too late, memory.  He's already slipping in and out of consciousness.  "What are you working on?" the kid asks the better version of himself.  "Funnily enough, Ordinary paperwork.  It isn't all science experiments, you know.  Altered World Events are bureaucratic nightmares.  One downside to being high-ranking here- you have to deal with the paperwork." he replies.  

"That sounds boring." Dylan comments.  "Usually.  Although, once I found a memo between three people about who had the weirdest day.  I think the man with the levitating waffle maker might have won.  I can't remember." Younger Darling replies.  "I wish I could go outside." Dylan says, out of nowhere.

Darling remembers this conversation like it was yesterday, along with every emotion he felt.  "I wish you could too.  But, maybe I could take you to the Quarry.  It's a stretch, but the sky there is prettier than it'll ever be outside." he replies.  "I'd like that." Dylan responds.

He had asked Trench if he could.  The Director said no.  But, he knew he couldn't disappoint Dylan, who'd already been through so much.  Under the cover of night, when he knew for a fact that Trench was home and Marshall was off on a rare night of drinking with her ex-CIA buddies, the two snuck to the Quarry.  The stars had been quite beautiful out there, he recalls.

But since that day it had only gotten worse.  Now, he's on the edge of life.  Hedron can only do so much.  But, at last, faintly, he hears the door creak.  Red hair peeks through, and Jesse steps inside.  Seeing him, she screams, apparently wanting to come here to de-stress.  And the next he saw was a bed in the Medical Wing.  Back at last, with Emily promising that Dylan was fine, and promptly slapping him almost back to unconsciousness.  

At least Jesse abstained from throwing a stapler at his head like she'd threatened a week ago if he ever returned.  If he died now, they wouldn't be able to grill him for info.  But he prefers being slapped to being dead, and knowing Emily's alive, curious as ever, and has taken well to his old position is a big plus.  He wonders if Raya stuck it out down in her Threshold or booked it to a safe room.  Probably the former.  He knows Raya.  

Chapter Text

"Was that there before?" Carla Vaughn asks, walking closer to the kiddie pool in front of them.  It's a standard pool that you'd find in yards everywhere.  Emily can recall playing in one just like it as a kid.  "Not sure.  Do you think it's an Altered Item?" Emily replies.

"If it is, it's incredibly tame.  But I've never seen it before.  We should run some tests on it, sure beats recording more educational videos." Carla says.  She's been getting sick of recording yet more training videos with Dr. Darling.  Even though Hubert Tan isn't the worst partner in the world, his interest in her makes her rather uncomfortable.  She'd rather research Altered Items than do anything romantic.

"Nice day without Dr. Darling and all the others, although we should probably get this thing to a lab and document it." Emily comments, staring at the water in the pool.  Something about it looks off to her.  Carla's right, this must be an incredibly tame Altered Item.  Usually they try to attack you or destroy the surrounding area, in Emily's experience.  

Carla assumes Darling, as normal for him, is oblivious to the tension between herself and Hubert.  She thinks of him highly enough to assume that her boss would move one of them to a different endeavor if he knew.  She's painfully aware of his social ineptitude.  'I wonder where he is anyway?'  Vaughn thinks.  Probably Dimensional Research.  He abandoned Dylan and the Prime Candidate Program entirely long ago, dumping it on the shoulders of herself and the others who remained.  He only occasionally checks in on the tracking of Jesse Faden.

At least he took her with him to Dimensional Research.  Even if that Tan boy had to come too.  She couldn't bear to be around Dylan for much longer.  He's just a reminder of the friend she lost, and the project she poured herself into just to fail.  She shares Darling's opinions on Dylan being a lost cause.  No fault of hers, to be sure.  He was broken long before they locked him away and even she forgot him.

Hedron is much more interesting anyway, although she doesn't understand it at all.   Together, she and Emily pick up the pool and carry it to the nearest lab.  Emily excuses herself to go get a clipboard and her pens.  Carla can't understand Emily's aversion to using any pen but her own.  Speaking of Emily, she told Carla the horror story of the lunch with Raya Underhill.  Not that Raya was bad, Emily had described her as quite nice.

But it was Darling's idea, which meant that it went down in flames anyway.  They didn't get along, yet Darling never realized that.  Emily says that she thinks that he's incapable of understanding emotion.  She wouldn't be that far off.  Emily doesn't know all the things that she's seen.  How horrible the Bureau can be.  Knowing you're standing by as a child was broken and reshaped into someone new, and then left to rot when he didn't come out right.  It's almost as if Emily is innocent.

"Oh, hello, I heard you found an Altered Item!" Darling says, walking into the lab.  Carla groans.  She just wants one project to herself.  Is that too much to ask?  "Yes, we did.  I assume you want to yank this project from me too?" Carla replies.

"No, no, you keep control of this one.  I just want to observe again like the good old days.  Hedron's at a dead end and it's really  getting on my nerves." Darling assures her.  "Good.  Emily and I have this covered." Carla asserts.  Emily, walking in, waves hello to her boss.  She's used to seeing him in the oddest places.   Emily has learned not to question anything anymore, except in a testing environment.

"When in doubt, touch it with a stick!" Emily mutters, poking the Altered Item with a pointer.  Carla flashes back to the Threshold Kids nightmare from eons prior, the video on Altered Items.  Poor Dylan.  Well, not her problem, not anymore.  Some poor mid-level bastard has to deal with his empty shell now.  Not her.  

"Well that didn't do anything." Carla comments.  Darling jots something down.  Maybe he'll take care of the notes?  It wouldn't be the first time he did that, not in a million years.  It's like he looks for an excuse to not leave the Bureau.  

Emily, curious on whether there is anything strange about the Item, touches the water.  Instantly, she disappears, Carla and Darling following.  "Where the hell are we?" Pope asks, looking around.  They're standing in a grassy field, a night sky much like the Quarry stretching on forever.  The same pool is right in front of them.  Darling touches the water, disappears, and then comes back.

"So, at least we have a way back." he says.  The three split up, Darling starting to draw the constellations to compare with those found in the Quarry.  Emily pulls up some grass and soil to study later.  Carla keeps walking.  'Finally, some peace.' she thinks to herself.  The chaos of the Bureau can wear someone out faster than the tires on a car.  That is, if the car was driving at the speed of light on hot coals.  

She doesn't understand, how anyone could stick it out.  As little as she knows of Dr. Underhill, she can deeply sympathize with her wishing to leave the Bureau.  But the place behind the poster has a siren's call, calling to every curious soul.  She doesn't love the Bureau.  She loves the strange things it contains.  She sits down in the grass.  Ever-curious Emily and the oddball Darling are just specks in the distance, with their desire to map all they see.

She gets that desire.  It's the reason she stays.  Just, maybe, she could enjoy something without asking why.  Although, returning is paramount now.  How would Emily react to the horrible secrets the Oldest House hides?  She looks so happy with her Altered Items, although frustrated with the lack of clearance.  She's too late for what Dylan used to be, when he was still semi-whole.  Even the Slide Projector has wound down now  All that's left is Hedron, the uncrackable puzzle of Resonance.

Would Emily fall Darling's route?  Even she admits it, Darling's fallen.  He isn't what he was before, neither is Trench.  She doubts that she's the same person.  Happy, sad, embarrassing, all memories are taken by the House.  All that's left is the hole in the wall, the poster vaporized.  It's like the hole in the wall is a hole in you.  

"Dr. Vaughn!" Emily yells, looking around wildly for her colleague.  Carla sighs, ready to go back to the Bureau.  Not that she wants to leave.  The Oldest House seems uneasy now.  It shifts as if it's nervous.  Together, the three touch the water again, ending up back in the lab.

"Well, time to type up some reports on that." Carla states, walking away before anyone can make her help contain the Altered Item.  That's an Agent's job, not hers.  Hers is to write reports and poke things until they do something unexpected.  Just, a bit more complicated.  

Chapter Text

Jesse collapses on the couch inside the hidden alcove she found in a far-flung corner of the Investigations Sector.  It's been hard work clearing out the bodies and making the Sector usable again.  It'll certainly take the strain off of Containment, which had been hosting all the AWE research since Investigations was closed off.  Those bodies which could be identified were returned to their families.  The memorial service was last night.

Jesse remembers lighting the first candle, commemorating everyone who had died inside the Sector, whether to Hartman or other things.  Burning away the Darkness was a much easier chore than dealing with the literal skeletons inside of the closet she found in the Eagle Limited AWE Loading Bay.  Without a doubt, people are still working on the Sector.  There's much to go over, furniture to replace, finding the entity in the Fra Mauro AWE area a new, more comfortable home within the Oldest House.  Since Jesse found his head, he's been much nicer.

Jesse shuts her eyes, hoping for sleep.  To be more exact, dreamless sleep.  The Oldest House isn't exactly the nicest place to rest.  Between House Shifts threatening to trap you and the amplified weight of the horrific sins of years prior on everyone's shoulders, this place is dangerous.  

She's lying down on the street.  No passers-by notice her, as they continue to walk past her.  She's wearing her old jacket and pants, the Director's Suit nowhere to be found.  It's raining.  She remembers this place, vividly.  

She was 13, Jesse recalls.  This was when she had no home, out on the streets in the rain.  This was a terrible time.  Looking back, she wonders if the Bureau would have been a better fate.  At least she would've been with Dylan if she had just turned herself in.  At least she knows this place.  The streets of Philadelphia weren’t friendly.  

At least she traveled like she'd always wanted.  Even though that travel was usually being bumped around between foster homes or spending long cold nights on the streets.  Between the fate of her brother and her own experience, it's hard to tell which would have been nicer.  Together with the Bureau's torture, or alone out here.  

She gets up and starts walking, following the path she remembers taking as a child all that time ago.  it shouldn't be far before she reaches the spot she used as shelter from rain or snow.  She remembers running away, away from beatings or neglect.  Nobody wanted a troubled child with delusions and nightmares.  If only they knew that nothing she saw was imagined.  At least Dylan's experience wasn’t discarded as the delusions of a psychotic child.

Although, it's hard to dislike or even be mad at her brother.  He didn't have it any easier than she did.  Both Faden children had it harder than anyone could imagine.  She has a strange desire to find her old therapist and beat the absolute shit out of her.  But that can wait for another day.  That way, she can take Arish and Emily with her.  They've wanted to do the same for a while.  And with Emily's new Black Rock knife, it would be extra terrifying for her old torturer.

She ends up in an alley, and underneath a cardboard box, a younger version of herself is curled up.  Her hair, much lighter than it is now, is tangled and dirty, and her clothes are much too big.  She looks up, and it's obvious that she can see her.

Polaris, yet another thing that was blown off and disregarded by everyone else, flickers around both of them.  "Who are you?" she asks, brushing her hair out of her face.  "I'm you.  Older, though.  I'm here to say it gets better.  Really." Jesse replies.  

"I don't believe you." 13-year-old Jesse states, pulling out a switchblade.  She remembers that switchblade.  Stole it from a foster home at 12 and kept it ever since.  Of course.  She wouldn't believe herself either.  Not after being told everything she saw was a figment of her imagination.

Jesse sits down next to the box.  "It's going to get shitty, trust me.  But you'll find him.  Dylan's alive, no matter what anyone tells you.  You're going to save everyone."

"Do I find the bad guys?" the kid replies.  "Not exactly"

Jesse thinks about Emily and Arish and Raya.  How can they be bad guys if they didn't do anything wrong?  None of them hurt Dylan or messed with the Projector.  She's happy to pin the blame on Trench and Darling.  And, somewhat, on Langston.  But she can't very well project Dylan specifically on the man who had to deal with the entire Panopticon.  If she found whoever managed security around Dylan, he'd very well be in hot water.  Assuming he wasn't corrupted by Hiss, that is.

"You'll find a lot of good guys, though.  Just remember it's real.  No matter what." Jesse says.

"And what happens to me?  You?  Are you really just me but older?"

"I think so.  You're going to get pretty powerful.  But don't let anyone convince you that you didn't see what you saw.  Or else none of it will happen."

Hopefully this version will keep her spirits up.  If she doesn't, and she falls to everyone else's lies, both her and the Bureau will crumble.  If it hadn't been for Polaris, who knows where Jesse would've ended up.  Still at the ward?  On the streets alone, or working odd jobs like before?  

"I won't." she replies.  Jesse has high hopes.

Then, she recalls a dream.  At this exact time, on this street, under this box.  An older version of herself cheering her on.  Now, she's playing the role.  To build up the next version, to fight the Hiss.  To keep from losing hope.  

Now she's no longer the child, but rather, the adult.  The Director, no less.  And there is a whole sector in the waking world that needs her help.  Investigations needs her.  

With that, she wakes up with a gasp.  Her nose is bleeding, just like with a Hotline call.  Maybe she Hotline-called herself?  She gets off the couch, stretches, and meets up again with the body removal team.  It's grim news from them, having spotted yet more corpses.

  At least nothing shifted while she was asleep.  Regular maintenance of the Control Points has kept most of it under control.  When it's all over, Langston will be thrilled not to have AWEs at his doorstep anymore.  Although picking a Head of Investigations will be a nightmare.  

Chapter Text

"Come on, they're not up yet!" Dylan whispers, shaking Jesse awake.  He just turned 10, even though there wasn't much of a party.  Neil came, which was nice.  The two snuck out their window, careful to not wake their parents.  They didn't exactly want to incite another shouting match.

It's early morning, the sunrise painting the sky pink and yellow.  The dump awaits them, their base they built among the trash.  Maybe Neil would already be there.  The three call it their safe haven, against Tom and his gang of bullies.  "Race you there!" Jesse shouts, taking off down the street.

She easily outruns Dylan, who tries to keep up with his sister.  She remembers the Slide Projector they tried to use.  Sadly, Tom shattered it, so they couldn't try anything else with it.  They crawl under a bit of broken fence, entering the dump.  

"Bet you can't climb up to the top of that!" Jesse dares Dylan, pointing up to the tallest pile of scrap metal.  He starts climbing, as Jesse digs out an old music box from the dirt.  It still works, the music still calming as always.  

"Check it out!" Dylan shouts, standing tall at the very top of the garbage pile.  Jesse claps, the sound echoing around the dump.  Devoid of life except for the two of them.  "We should explore!" Jesse replies, as Dylan climbs down the pile.

They run deeper into the dump, amidst cars, trash bags, and other junk.  In front of them lies their base.  Some scrap metal props up a ragged blue tarp.  Inside, a broken three-legged table and two ratty beanbag chairs serve as furniture.  All the things they find end up here.  Luckily for them, Tom hasn't found it yet.

The two sit down, Jesse putting her music box on the table.  The plant she had started growing in an empty coffee cup is doing well, its green leaves giving color to their ramshackle little clubhouse.  Making sure that all their collections remained intact was hard work.

Since Tom broke the slide projector, they took care to watch their things.  The projector was almost new-looking, like it could have worked.  "Hey guys!" someone calls to the siblings, running over to him.  It's Neil, sporting yet another nosebleed.

"Hi, Neil!  Check out what Jesse found!" Dylan exclaims, leading him inside their base.  Neil pulls up another torn beanbag chair, laying his backpack next to it.  Jesse shows him her music box, before taking out an untouched pack of printer paper and a box of broken crayons.  None of them know how such a large amount of paper got to the dump.

She starts drawing, as the two boys open the backpack.  Inside, there's a few picture frames and an old camera.  "We should take some pictures!" Dylan suggests, taking the camera.  The three children stand together, Jesse awkwardly pressing the button to take the photo.  

The three laugh as they wait for their photo to work.  "I can't wait for the next day off." Jesse comments.  She takes the photo, fully developed now, and puts it in the cracked picture frame.  Jesse reflects on their first time in the dump.

It had just been her, then.  Crawling under the fence felt so wrong then.  Now, it's just another thing she does.  As right as doing her homework or studying for a test or teasing her brother.  An image flashes in her mind, of the Slide Projector.

It isn't broken, it's whole.  And it's working.  It spills blue and red, the two colors fighting each other.  "Grow Brighter" meshes with "It resonates in your house" until they both become pure noise.

The dump shifts, getting exponentially deeper, the walls of garbage rising around her.  This is familiar, but how?  Dylan screams, Neil melts into a dog.  Tom and his gang, who were spying on them across the dump, turn into monsters, and chase them through the labyrinth that the dump just became.

She runs into Dylan as Neil fends off the monsters.  The two hide in an alcove as the battle takes place, unsure of what to do, frozen in place.  Then, a man in a suit grabs Dylan and drags him away from Jesse.  The two scream, as cigarette smoke fills the air. 

"Director Trench, there's another!" yells a man with a gun.  Jesse runs around them as they open fire.  A telephone keeps ringing but there's no source, and random objects flash in her eyes.  The same blue that was fighting the red earlier enters her mind and flares in her vision.

It guides her over the fence and into her home, where her parents are nowhere to be found.  In their place, the same slide projector.  Floating there as if taunting her.

"YOU!" she screams, running to break it into pieces like Tom did.  Before she can touch it, her eyes fly open, and she's no longer in Ordinary, the projector nowhere to be seen.

Instead, she's lying next to Emily Pope, who looks rather concerned.  "Jesse?  Are you okay?" she asks, brushing a lock of Jesse's red hair out of her face.  

"Just a nightmare." Jesse mutters, pulling the covers around her head.  "Not like it's the first one I've had, and it won't be the last."

Emily's apartment is a much nicer place to sleep than the Oldest House.  "Did I tell you about what happened with Langston while you were off dealing with that AWE?" Emily asks, as both of them move to the couch.  

"Anyway, we were in the Investigations Sector looking for notes to study, and we found some video log.  Turn out, he does poetry, and it's the weirdest thing I've heard since this Hiss." she says.

"Oh, I've heard that before.  And yeah, that shit's really strange.  Still, he's the best guy we have to run the Panopticon.  He can afford to be more than a little strange." Jesse replies.  'He is certainly not the only oddball here'  Jesse thinks

Polaris spins in agreement.  But maybe being strange isn't all that bad.  Ahti seems to pull it off rather well.  She hopes that she pulls it off too, or, at least, that nobody cares that she is strange.  

Chapter Text

"How is he!" Jesse shouts, panicking as she runs at top speed towards Dylan's makeshift hospital room.  He'd been in a coma for two weeks, the lockdown lifted only a few days ago.  Jesse remembers the last Hiss Agent exploding into mist.  Dr. Renee Potts, from Luck and Probability, Emily told her.  Her husband, one of the lucky few to get to a safe room in time to not be corrupted, watched her go.

"Hold on, we only detected some brain activity.  We just need to wait." Emily replies.  Jesse takes a seat in a chair next the the glass cage.  It reminds her of the P6 cell too much.  Just without her name written in blood.  

"Please, wake up.  I'm here.  It's over." Jesse whispers, her voice almost too quiet to hear.  Dylan doesn't stir.  At least, not until his eyelid twitches.  Emily catches the movement right away, calling several other researchers to document it.

"Stop gawking at my brother!" Jesse snaps, turning towards the researchers, still wearing HRAs.  "Yes ma'am." they say in unison, ducking out of the room before Jesse could cause any harm to them.  

"Do- Do you think he's dreaming?" Emily asks.  "He told me about his dreams once, before I went looking for the Slide Projector." Jesse replies.

Dylan is in a dark ocean.  The soft tap of keys on a typewriter is soothing.  He's been lost in this dark for- he doesn't know how long- but it feels like an eternity. There is a man at the typewriter.  He wears a coat, and appears as if he hasn't slept in months.  

"My- my escape.  I must write my escape.  Jesse, Jesse, Dynamite.  Come save me." he mutters.  A stack of paper lies next to him.  A manuscript, titled "AWE" lies, fully completed, nearby.  Darkness swirls around the two of them.  This is the Writer who wrote the Cop, Dylan thinks.  

Dylan walks closer to the man.  He doesn't look up from his typewriter.  Not out of impolite-ness, but of sheer desperation.  That if he tore his eyes from this page, that he might never be able to look at it again.  How did he get here?  To this dark ocean, a shade of black-green?  Its waves seem wild, yet serene.  The Writer emits light, himself, pushing back the darkness just a little bit.  

"I think- just maybe- someone will come.  This dark ocean.  Someone will come in a submarine.  Jesse, she will come." the Writer mumbles as he types.  Dylan starts to feel irritated.  Why is it always Jesse?  Jesse this, Jesse that, never him.  Jesse the Director, Jesse the One That Got Away.

He shuts his eyes, appearing somewhere else.  A swirling mass of red, kept back feebly by Polaris, the incessant bitch.  The Hiss, so close but so far.  So safe and nothing to worry about.  Polaris swarms his vision, whisking him off and away from the Hiss.

"Fuck you!" he shouts, looking around this new area.  Polaris spins in response.  He's standing, barefoot, in red sand.  Slide 36.  He hasn't been here in a long, long, time.  The five pillars stretching up into the sky, but the.. shape.. that he saw last time he was here, it's gone.

He smiles at the fact that it is gone.  But there's no Hiss in sight here.  No chant, and the only red here is the sand under his feet.  The Hiss took care of making sure that fucking Polaris-wielding thing was well and truly shattered.  With Jesse's help, of course.  

Jesse had called this slide "The Hand".  It was her favorite slide out of all the ones they'd messed with.  Dylan has to thank her for burning them all, but the greatest thing she ever did was forget to burn the Hiss.  Or, she didn't burn it all the way.  Hadn't Casper, that bitch, lamented the loss of those other slides?

Where was he, anyway?  He ran from him like a coward years ago, but the Hiss never told him if they managed to get him.  He remembers this place being completely silent, but he can hear faint music.  Familiar music, too.  It's him.  His music.

The bitch himself, Dr. Casper Darling.  "Show yourself, fucker!" Dylan shouts, his voice echoing across the Slidescape.  There is no Polaris to muffle sound here.  The thing that broadcasted it is gone.  Shattered.  Casper is nowhere to be found.

"But they all know Jesse is dynamite, they're right!" a disembodied voice sings.  It's him all right, but he's nowhere to be seen.  Dylan's rather annoyed about that.  He has some choice words to say to him

Dylan sits down in the sand.  He has to show himself at some point, after all.  This place isn't that big.  He knows that all too well.  There's not many places he could hide, here.  And in the center of the pillars, there's a calm spot, perfect to stand and survey the entire Slide.  Still, there is nobody there but him.

Maybe he's a ghost?, Dylan thinks.  He laughs to himself.  Casper the friendly ghost.  Although, Dylan wouldn't exactly describe him as friendly.  Casper The Distant Ghost, more like it.  Maybe he used to be friendly.  Not anymore.  

"Maybe he just doesn't want to talk.  Wouldn't be the first time." Dylan mutters, still sitting in the sand.  Polaris hasn't tugged him away from this Slide yet.  Maybe she's going to leave him there.  Count on Polaris to be an asshole.  

"Or I just didn't see you." the same disembodied voice chimes in.  At least he isn't singing.  That was always annoying, even when he was a kid.  Even when he trusted  Darling.  Look where that got him.  

"Never thought I'd see you here." Dylan says, his voice dripping with disdain.  Darling doesn't seem to notice it, however.  How did he even get here?  Dylan knew they were messing with the Slide Projector, but this?  What connection did Darling have with Polaris?

"Well, it's a long story.  But I'm sure you know at least half of it." the voice replies.  It's hard to connect this almost sorrowful voice with the usually bright and chipper Darling.  What happened?  To Darling?  To himself?  There's a hundred people and at least three extradimensional entities to blame, but Dylan doesn't know if he should be on that list.  

Polaris is acting up again.  She outlines where the voice is coming from, as well as clouding his vision so much that he could hardly see.  It's like she's trying to warn him of something.

"Not now, I'm about to yell at him." he thinks.  Polaris keeps spinning, tearing him from Slidescape-36 and opening his eyes again.  He's back in the glass cell, but the Hiss isn't here.  It's just him and the people beyond the glass.

"Dylan!" Jesse shouts, flying to the glass.  Quickly, Emily unlocks the door and Jesse runs inside, to him.  Dylan sits up, groaning.  He can feel the atrophy starting to set in.  How long had he been asleep for?  

Jesse pulls him into a hug and starts crying.  Dylan pats her back awkwardly.  "I thought you were gone!" she sobs.  Emily stands off to the side, not wanting to intrude.  But she distrusts Dylan enough to stand by, in case something happened to Jesse.  He had tried to corrupt the Board after all.  

"Well, I'm not." he replies.  Jesse knows there's much left to do.  A relationship to repair, a Bureau to update.  But it'll all be fine.  Jesse can feel it.  She has Emily, and Arish, and now Dylan to help her.  And she won't let him go again.  

Chapter Text

Simon Arish stares into his empty coffee cup. The Oldest House still doesn't provide beer, and he's starting to think it never will. It makes sense. The only people who could get away with drinking on the job were Darling and Trench, and they're long gone.  It's some comfort that Jesse, at least to him, seems the type to enjoy a night out at some bar, the type to want to talk about anything except work.  Like his squad.  Like his friends.  He stares at the pouches that Jesse gave back to him, at the silver bullets inside.  He sighs.

"Hey, man, are you okay?" a voice asks him.  He turns around, to see a security guard.  James Carter, one of the guards that helped fend off the Hiss from the NSC.  Of course, now Arish knows what- no- who  is inside it.  Jesse told him to keep it secret.  He obliges.  Using a living human being, a director, no less, as fuel, is something better left buried.  But they did ramp up Maintenance security and slapped around 10 HRAS on the NSC, just in case. 

"Things are going well given we're in a literal apocalypse.  Don't jinx it though.  I don't want things to get worse.  But since you asked, I didn't get scratched up too bad out there.  Plus, you were with me the whole time." Arish replies.  He contemplates getting more coffee.  He wants to be awake and coherent to hear the news that Jesse's taken care of the Hiss for good.  

"No, I meant personally.  Hiss has hit us like a freight train, and you look worse than I do.  You saved my life, it'd be pretty shitty of me not to check on you." James responds.  How long had they been in lockdown again?  Weeks?  A month?  He misses cheating at cards and drinking things that aren't coffee.   

"You heard about my squad, right?  About fucking time the Bureau got back on its gossiping game.  It wouldn't be right without nosy desk jockeys spreading news across the whole fucking House." Arish retorts, sliding his chair away from the concerned security guard.  

He holds onto the leather pouches a little tighter.  Cho and Remus and the rest.  They didn't deserve to end up the way they did.  Jesse had stopped by after getting all the pouches, just to check if he was okay.  He isn't sure the Bureau deserves a Director like her.  

"No, I didn't.  Sorry man, but you look like shit." James states plainly.  He's correct.  Arish is sporting bags the size of suitcases under his eyes, an undone tie, and hair that hasn't been washed in weeks.  Nobody wants to find out what happens when you take your HRA off, or if it gets wet.  He's heard the Hiss Chant too much to want to repeat it forever.  As much as he questions Darling, at least he thought to deck out the NSC staff with portable protection from the resonance-based apocalypse.

"Thanks for caring.  Hey, could you ask around, see where Mary-Anne went?  She came up from Maintenance with us but I haven't seen her since.  Can never be too careful with this bullshit.  I don't want to deal with another Marshall incident." Arish asks the younger man.  James can't be older than 26, based on his looks.  

"She went to check on the Rangers still at the NSC.  She'll be back in two hours." he replies.  Time, of course, is the one constant the Oldest House so graciously provides.  At least, he hopes it's a constant.  With the shifting walls and interdimensional sound monsters and the literal person inside the power plant, time anomalies aren't out of the question.

"Thanks.  I hope she's okay.  We don't need any more people dead.  You're dismissed.  I have to talk to Pope about something." Arish lies.  Well, he wasn't lying about hoping the guards and Rangers still protecting the power plant were fine.  He is, however, lying about having to talk to Emily.

James leaves quickly, off to help clear Dead Letters and its upper offices.  Arish sets a picture he'd saved on top of his new shiny desk in Central Executive.  Not that he'd ever spend much time there.  Like the perpetually on-the-move Director Faden, he doesn't like to stagnate in one place.  Back in Maintenance, something always needed repairing, a coolant pipe or a vent or something in the Quarry.  That thing usually necessitated him moving with a bunch of guards or workers or anyone who knew how to fix things, one time having to ride a freshly-mined piece of Black Rock across the Quarry to get to a damaged support beam.  The Federal Bureau of Control is certainly not OSHA-compliant, he thinks, registering the Hiss Chant for the first time in an hour.  It' almost as if he can forget it exists sometimes.

He's starting to forget things already, in the weeks or months it's been since the lockdown.  What type of coffee Cho liked to drink or Hazzard's joke with Remus that seemed to only exist between the two of them.  He hears their voices in the never-ending drone of the chant.  Cho's higher voice they all liked to tease him good-naturedly about, Hepstonstall's quiet but strangely melodic voice.  

Why didn't Darling spare them?  Did he choose who to give HRAs to, or did he give one to the first person he saw?  Why not them, if the two Rangers solely interested in bothering Langston got one?  And why was he saved instead of them?

He knows the answer.  They were just Rangers.  He was the Head of Maintenance Security.  At least Jesse brought something akin to their bodies back with her.  The silver bullets, in their leather pouches.  Remus had carved his initials on his, Cho had sewn a little crescent moon on his own.  

Who amongst the Management Team would understand the weight of losing someone, that you've gone through thick and thin with?  Emily?  Probably not.  Everyone she knew somewhat well is alive still, except maybe Darling.  Even Dr. Underhill managed to survive, the most out-of-the-way person in the whole Bureau got an HRA somehow.  Maybe Darling did pick favorites after all.

Is Langston even a part of the Team?  Arish, at least, thinks he will be, now.  And that's everyone.  Jesse, Emily, Langston, and himself.  "Guess we have a lot of promoting to do" Arish says, quietly, to himself.  Jesse would be the most likely to understand.

Still, nobody wants to bother the Director.  If he can't prove to her that he's capable and tough enough to handle his job, she'll give it to someone else.  At least, that's how Director Trench handled things.  Would she be different than him after a few months or years here?

Then, he hears celebration from the rest of Central Executive.  Rangers and Guards and Researchers alike, all cheering.  "Faden!  Faden!  Faden!" they chant, as Jesse comes running into the center of the Control Point.  

"The Ritual Division is clear!  But we're not out of trouble yet.  I need all hands on deck to search the House for anything we might have missed!  Get a gun if you know how to use one, and get looking!  Everyone else, stay in Central Executive and get ready to help anyone who gets injured." Jesse commands the ragtag group in front of her.  

Arish swears he can hear a few people complaining "That's against protocol", but it stops after Jesse stares at the culprits.  After just a few days of knowing the Director, he can attest to just how deadly her looks can be.  Everyone just wants the lockdown over with.  

"Hey, Arish, I wanted to talk with you and Emily." Jesse says to him.  He follows her to the Boardroom, and its meeting table.  Emily has staked it out as her spot, stealing an emergency blanket to make a bed out of two office chairs.  A few Researchers also claimed sections of the room, but she ushers them out.  

"How are both of you doing?" Jesse asks the two of them.  Arish can't help but notice the tension between Jesse and Emily.  Are they friends or more than that?  Emily fidgets in her seat.  He can tell, she'd rather still be in the Foundation studying the Nail.  Or trying to find more of Dr. Theodore Ash Jr.'s notes.  

"Still trying to figure out the Hiss and what to do with the Slide Projector." Emily replies.

"I vote we burn it." Arish says, collapsing in another office chair.

"Agreed." Jesse and Langston say in unison.  The Projector's still in the Nostalgia Department.  Soon, the Director will have to bring it back through the Ashtray Maze and try to destroy it.  Although, she wonders if burning it will get rid of Polaris for good.  Maybe she'll just tear the Burned Slide into tiny little pieces.

"I'm taking the Slide Projector back to Dimensional Research.  I don't want to accidentally kill Polaris by destroying it.  The Hiss slide, we'll destroy that together." Jesse decides, standing up.  She doesn't want to take it through any Control Points, so the walk through Research will be annoying.

Arish sighs.  Another day at the FBC.  Death, disaster, and imminent destruction.  When the last Hiss voice is silenced and what he hears of his friends is gone, then maybe he can rest, finally.  And he'd have to ask Jesse out for a few beers and some non-paranormal conversation, too.

Chapter Text

Jesse Faden stares at some old documents.  Notes from the discovery of Hedron.  Even though Hedron is gone—shattered into pieces—Jesse wants to know more about it.  Emily is confident that the lockdown can be lifted in a few days.  Ranger teams move all through the House, to kill any remaining Hiss. 

"Director Faden?  We need you at the Panopticon," says Frederick Langston, over the intercom. 

  Jesse sighs.  Not only did Langston do the one thing he promised not to do, call her Faden, but she really doesn't want to go track down whatever Altered Item got loose again.  Still, she suspects that this'll just be her life, now.

She steps into the middle of the Control Point, leaving her notes with Emily.  She'd appreciate the knowledge that Darling never saw fit to tell her about.  Jesse remembers Emily venting about it to her earlier.  Jesse can only imagine what Emily would have been like if she was allowed to work on the Slide Projector.

She chooses the Control Point just outside of the door where she knows Langston will be.  He’d be at the console, humming as he does, probably ranting about some ten-year-old conflict.  

The door rolls open.  But Langston isn’t there.  Instead, there is a woman at his console, with black hair and a torn blouse.  HRAs make it almost impossible to change.  

“Langston took off into the Panopticon, the fourth floor.  I came in here from Logistics, I’m the only one else alive here who knows even half of what these fucking buttons do.  I miss my fucking desk.  I’m Megan, Megan Lock,” the woman announces.

A fitting last name, given what the Panopticon does, Jesse thinks.  She walks up to Lock.  Her eyes are crystal-blue, like hers, and she sports several worry lines marring her otherwise perfect face.  Can you stop crushing on every woman you meet, Jesse asks herself silently.

“Alright, we have three Altered Items loose and running around the House.  Since you’re kind of new, I’ll just describe them.  There’s an oscillating fan currently wreaking havoc in someplace called the Prime Candidate Program area.  No clue what that’s about.  Throw some water on it and get it back to the fifth level.  Be careful, it sucks all the oxygen from a room,” Lock explains.

“Good to know.” Jesse replies.

“There’s a Pac-Man machine in the Eagle Limited AWE area in Investigations.  It’ll make you play Pac-Man, the real life version.  It goes to the third level.  Risk of death, yada yada yada, bring those two back first.  They’re causing the most problems,” Lock says, completely uninterested in the current crisis.

“I’ll be sure to come back alive.” Jesse says, before exiting the control room and running for the Prime Candidate Program.  

She’s glad that she ditched her Director’s outfit for her civilian clothes.  Running after Altered Items in a suit would be quite annoying.  She swipes a keycard in a door, and it doesn’t work.  She swiped it too fast.  She tries again.  She swiped it too slow.

“Fucking door!  Just open already!” she shouts, swiping the keycard once again.

She sighs in relief when the door opens, revealing pure chaos.  A man in office wear lies lifeless on the floor.  Papers are scattered around, presumably files on Dylan.  Maybe he was part of it.  Part of the Program.  

She takes a breath, expecting to encounter the rogue Altered Item at any moment.  Steeling herself, she opens a door and comes face-to-grille with the Oscillating Fan.

Before it can react, she throws the water she had been carrying on the Item.  She sighs yet again, carefully picking up the fan and walking it back to the Panopticon.

The dizzying flight up to the fifth level isn’t something Jesse thinks she’ll ever get used to.  As she places the Item back on its pedestal in its cell, she stops to notice how in-tune she’s gotten with the Items and even the House.  

“Hm.  Maybe I am some kind of Item Whisperer.” she says out loud for nobody to hear.  

“Well, let’s go play some Pac-Man!” Jesse says to Polaris as she flies back down to the Control Point.  Polaris spins excitedly in response.  Jesse laughs.  Maybe Polaris does want to play Pac-Man after all.  

Investigations is still dark.  Not the calming kind of dark, but the kind that slithers up the walls and seeps into the ceiling like an infection.  Living darkness, a presence that both she and the House can feel running in their veins.  Only, the veins of a House are undeniably its hallways, twisting and writhing concrete.

At the end of the AWE area, the escaped arcade machine sits, almost innocuous.  Jesse knows better.  Tentatively, she walks closer to the Item, hoping it won’t do what Lock said it would.

As she steps closer, walls rise out of nowhere, and yellow dots appear on the floor.  Polaris flares up in warning, as she runs.  She’s in the game.

Jesse takes off into the maze, collecting each dot as she runs past it.  She remembers this game from an arcade, back in Ordinary.  Before an eye of light revealed a gateway to doomsday, before siblings were separated so cruelly.  Before anything happened.

“It’s been a long time since I played this,” Jesse reflects as she narrowly avoids a ghost.

She finds that Polaris flares up whenever a ghost is near, giving her a warning.  Jesse isn’t sure what would happen to her if she died, but she knows it won’t be good. 

Jesse estimates that she’s halfway around the maze, with Polaris constantly in the corner of her eyes.  She turns a corner, and comes face-to-face with a pink ghost.  Quickly, she turns and runs, ducking into another branch of the maze.  

The ghost passes, and she runs for the dots she has left, hoping that completing the game would mean survival.  She’s thankful to have her guiding star to light the way, however.

Jesse collects the last yellow dot, and instantly, the walls disappear.  She can see the Altered Item again, and, to her, it looks Hiss-Corrupted.

“Will I have to clean the whole Panopticon,” she asks Polaris in despair.

Polaris chimes in response, the familiar fractals dancing around the arcade machine.  

“You like these sort of missions, don't you,” Jesse observes, as she cleanses the Item.  

Polaris chimes again.

Jesse’s shared a head with Polaris long enough to decipher her language.  A chime is a yes, a less-pleasant noise is a no.  She’s better with the alien resonance-based code than with human words.  At least Polaris is usually civil, unless Jesse tries to go somewhere her friend doesn’t want to go.  Then she gets more frantic and dissonant, more like the Hedron Resonance that tore apart Darling’s teams in Slidescape-36.

Jesse hauls the Item onto a rolling cart and pushes it to the Control Point.  Polaris seems eager to leave Investigations.  She never liked this place much, not at all.  

 Jesse trusts Polaris more than anyone, trusts her enough to never stay in the Investigations Sector for long.  The dark is no place for both of them. Jesse has lived for long enough in the dark.  She owes it to herself and her faithful companion to live, for now on, in the light.  

After sealing away the second Altered Item, Jesse returns faithfully to Lock, ready for the next Item to wrangle.

“Have you seen Langston?  These Items can wait, but I need to know where he is,” Lock asks 

‘I haven’t, I’ll look for him though.” Jesse replies.

She has a feeling that Lock only wants Langston back so she can return to Logistics.  Although, she can’t fathom what would be so important at her desk that’s worth leaving the relative safety of the control room for.  

Jesse opens the door to the Panopticon, and takes the elevator to the fourth floor.  She hopes, for both her sake and Langston’s, that he’s safe.  Picking another Panopticon Supervisor would be a nightmare on top of the other staff she’ll have to replace.  

“Langston?  Where are you,” she calls out, her voice echoing throughout the fourth floor.  

“I’m coming,” he yells back from across the Panopticon. 

Jesse breathes a sigh of relief.  He’s alive after all, although she doesn’t understand why he’d ditch the control room after calling her.  She can hear him running through the hall back to the elevator.  Langston is not exactly graceful.

“What the hell are you doing in here,”  Jesse yells to Langston, as he stops in front of her.

“Sorry, ma’am, but there was an Altered Item I needed to check on.  I completely forgot about it until now and I didn’t want to say anything to the Rangers since they’re not the nicest, and I’m rambling again.  Sorry,” Langston replies, nearly tripping over his words at every sentence.  

“Thanks for the explanation.  Now, I just brought back an oscillating fan and a Pac-Man machine, is there anything else I should go find,” Jesse asks the Supervisor.

“Well, there’s AI75-KE, currently loose in the Medical Wing.  It’s a hair dryer, but it heats up the entire room it’s in.  It’s not that dangerous, but we do need it under control in case it sets something on fire.  Just turn it off using its off switch and bring it back to floor 4, unit 12.  Uhm, best of luck, and thanks for your help,” Langston answers before going back to the control room.

Jesse sets off towards the Medical Wing, taking the Control Point to Logistics for a faster trip.

“Ready for one last fight,” Jesse asks Polaris as they close in on where the Altered Item is.

Polaris illuminates the door handle, urging Jesse to turn it.

Jesse turns it, and she’s hit by a wave of heat.  The Oldest House is cold, except for the Maintenance Sector and the Foundation, but this is unnatural.  Even for the House.

“There you are,” she says to the hair dryer floating in the center of the room.  “Thought you could slip past me, huh.”

Braving the scorching heat, she runs into the room and switches off the Item.  At least this one isn’t Hiss-corrupted.  

“That was easy,” Jesse remarks to Polaris, as she carries AI75-KE to its containment unit.  She passes Lock, back at her desk in Logistics.

“Oh, you found that last one.  Thanks,” Lock says to the Director.

“At least someone doesn’t seem to care about sucking up to me,” Jesse remarks to Polaris once they’re out of earshot.  

Locking the Item in its unit, she leans against the wall and sighs.

“Another day at the FBC, am I right,” she comments.