Immediately following this scene

In some ways, Sasha was feeling a little more at ease.  Abby was definitely much more like herself and there didn't seem to be any lingering remnants of ... whatever had happened.  Even more so, Sasha was grateful that Abby had texted Jonas Trevelyan; knowledge of that, alone, was enough to create a discernible difference between now and past events.  Enough that he felt relatively comfortable putting those old worries to the side. 

Yes, Abby was recognizably Abby-like, but only in comparison to what had transpired before.  She was still not back to her normal, bright and chipper self - she'd been recognizably anxious and unsettled for the entire walk back.  The dread and anticipation of imminent disaster had faded, but Sasha's worry still remained.  It had only taken a few minutes to reach his Cambridge flat but the walk had felt much longer.  It wasn't until they'd reached the relatively familiarity of the living room that Sasha felt he could shift his attention from getting them someplace safe to other matters of importance. 

She was scared.  He was scared.  But, they were safe.  Sasha set the picnic bag down on the counter and turned to draw Abby into a hug, resting his cheek against the top of her head as he held her.  Whether it was for his own benefit or hers, he didn't really know but that didn't seem to matter.  He just had to hold her and know she was still her.  And still there. 

It was several moments before he felt comfortable with dropping his arms but he smiled, warmly, at her before leading the way into the kitchen to make a pot of tea. 

"Should we sit inside or out?" Sasha asked, his voice sounding at least a little more calm in his own head.  He started to fill the electric kettle at the tap but thought better of it and returned the kettle to its stand.  He pulled a couple of wine glasses from a cupboard with a questioning glance towards Abby, before pulling a bottle of white wine from the refrigerator. 

In his own home, Sasha seemed calmer, and focused on making her comfortable. Abby appreciated and marveled a little at his consideration. She trailed after him to the kitchen, watching him lift the teapot then set it down. She admired the line of his shoulders as he reached for the wine glasses.

When he glanced back at her, she hesitated only a moment before giving him the thumb's up sign. Wine, please!

Abby leaned against the brick wall, and looked past the dining room into the warm, neutral living room, which had a view of the terrace.

"Inside is fine. Nice flat," she attempted a lighthearted remark, feeling a little better now that they were alone, away from the crowds. She thought fondly of his arms around her. He'd simply held her, reminding her that he was still here, despite everything, and she was here, and that they trusted one another.

Abby followed Sasha and took a seat. She took a long drink.

"I'm sorry," she offered quietly. "For what happened."

What a disastrous end to their wonderful date. Shame rose up, but she managed to hold his gaze.

"I can explain it." Her eyes searched his. "If you want to know. I'll try."

His hug, his mere presence, his offer of wine said yes, of course he wanted to know, but Abby, feeling low, had to be sure.

With a nod and a slight grin, Sasha poured two glasses of white wine and offered one to Abby before taking the second glass and the rest of the bottle.  He took a seat on the couch and took a slight sip before turning his attention more properly to Abby. 

There had been hints of some lingering effects (consequences ... challenges - Sasha wasn't entirely sure what the right word was) of the past year since even their first reunion at the little coffee shop.  It seemed like they'd been dancing around it for weeks, though Sasha had never anticipated being introduced to whatever it was in quite as direct of a fashion as what had just transpired.

He still didn't, quite, understand it but he knew whatever had happened had not been under Abby's control.  That was exactly what had been so unsettling about it.  In that sense, he didn't feel like Abby owed him any sort of apology.  He knew he tended to be more analytical and handled the predictable nature of logical problems and equations; reading and knowing how to respond to emotions had never been his strong suit. 

But, as he watched Abby seemingly fold within herself, he couldn't help but think the apology had been as much for herself as it had been for him.  He fought the impulse to dismiss it and nodded, taking a sip of wine.  "I'm alright," he offered, instead.  What had happened had, obviously, happened more to her than himself, after all.  "Really.  I'm just glad you're-"  Back?  Better?  Alright?  For the umpteenth time, he would have given anything to be better with words.  He gave up on the attempt with a slight shake of his head and a sheepish grin and changed tactics.  "We're alright." 

"I can explain it.  If you want to know. I'll try."

"I do," he offered, sincerely.  His own thoughts had already run the gauntlet of explanations, ranging from a simple confundus charm to being imperioused.  Could the reality really be that much worse than the blind speculation? 

Sasha reassured her that he was alright, offering her the sheepish grin she loved so much. His sincerity and steady presence helped her focus on what she needed to say. Abby scooted a few inches closer on the couch, her knees tilted towards him. Her heart beat fast. She drank more wine.

"You've read the Daily Prophet articles by now, right?" Her voice held the faintest trace of teasing. "Hell House Horrors! Something like that."

Though sensational, they were horrifyingly accurate.[1]

At his nod, she continued.

"So you've heard of the strange mist and the dementors chasing after it, and all those wixes and muggles who were hurt."

Guilt flickered over her face. She glanced down, pretending to look at her glass. The seconds ticked by.

"The mist got out because of me. I was only able to escape because I let it out of the house, accidentally." She risked a glance at him. "Calix and I - we smashed up Lori's gallery, because it was important to them. We thought maybe they'd -"

She cut herself off. She'd known that the Lilly siblings would kill them, but she thought maybe they'd be killed quickly, or ruin their ritual, or at least ruin their day.

"But then the misty things came out of the portraits. The mist, the fog, the whatever people are calling it."

Pentrals, her sister said.

"It's-" she swallowed and took a sip of her drink. "The mist changes people."

She paused, trying to find the courage to tell him that it had changed her. It had attacked her.

"It can change someone's appearance." Slowly, she tucked a lock of red hair around her ear, watching his face.

"It changes their personality. Makes them act strangely, without warning. It messes with someone's memory, and sense of self."

Her voice grew soft, dejected.

"Some people are worse off than others." Her shoulders hunched in. "Some of them have to stay at St. Mungo's, completely not themselves. They shout, or cry all the time, or attack their family."

She bit her lip hard, and glanced away. "Others are not so bad off. They're themselves, most of the time."

Abby's fingers tensed around the stem of the glass. She stared at the weave of the cotton slipcover without seeing it, unable to meet Sasha's gaze.

1.	August articles

He had tracked down and read those articles in the days following the meeting at the coffee shop and nodded to confirm as such.  "Yes, Professor Reid.  I did my homework," he offered, grinning slightly in an effort to match her in her teasing.  But, Merlin, that sounded strange.  Clearing his throat, he shook his head and directed his attention back on the conversation. 

From them, he'd gathered those Lilly siblings had been responsible for both the dementors and the mist, as well as the horrifying things they'd done - and planned to do - to Abby and Calyx. 

What hadn't been as clear from the articles was how, or even if, the mist and dementors were connected to the squibs.  In his sadness for Abby and anger at the Lilly's, it had been far too easy to dismiss whatever implications the mist might have had as of secondary importance. 

However, it was clear it wasn't that simple.  Sasha's brows furrowed, pensively, as Abby brought both the mist and dementors into the conversation and looked away with a pained look that made Sasha wince, sympathetically.  He resisted the urge to immediately dissuade the guilt but did reach a hand out to take hers within his own, even if (while once again feeling he better understood what Professor Trishna's position had been), the flaws in the guilt were so very apparent from the outside. 

He knew full well that, from the inside, it was never that simple.  And, when she explained it, the only time she included herself, personally, in the story was when talking about smashing the glass.  Setting the mist free.  But, she spoke exclusively of others, people and someone when she spoke of their effects, even though they both knew he'd seen how she'd been effected. 

"So, the mist had been in the portraits?" Sasha asked, trying to make sure he understood.  "Did the Lillys ever talk about them being there?  I mean, did you know - did they ever talk about what they were?" 

He gave her hand a gentle squeeze and, despite his intention to avoid dismissing her guilt, he couldn't resist the urge to state what he hoped was obvious.  "You let it out because they trapped you in a situation where you didn't have any alternatives.  I, for one, am glad you took that option." 

He wasn't sure if she wanted him to follow her lead and keep referring to the mist's effects on others and people, so he took the one door to her own experience that she'd opened.  He smiled, softly, and let go of her hand just long enough to brush his fingers through her hair.   

"So, the mist got ... is in you?" he asked, once more taking her hand in his.  "But, this is the first time I've even noticed any difference.  I mean, other than..." With a slight grin, his gaze flickered up to her hair.  "I assume that means you're one of the ones it's not so bad off for?  What is it doing to you.  I mean, is it hurting you?  Has this ... what happened earlier ... has it happened before?"

"I didn't do it on purpose," she answered, shaking her head slowly. "I was just taking something away from them. Something important to them. I didn't know what was trapped in there. I didn't think."

Sasha squeezed her hand, reassuring her that she hadn't had an alternative. But Sasha, she wanted to say. Calix died. So many suffered. Her life wasn't worth that.

Tears threatened. She pushed them back. The presence within shared a twinge of sadness. Abby pushed her away.

The number of Sasha's questions made her pause for a long moment. Abby lifted one hand, and gently traced the touch he'd left on her hair.

"Yes, it's..." Abby hesitated.

"It's usually like a voice," her eyes were worried as looked at him, afraid that she was eventually going to scare him off. "Thoughts that aren't really my own, just piping up every so often. It makes my head hurt. Literally. My hands and limbs go numb."

She looked down at their joined hands. "Sometimes I ignore it. Sometimes I talk back," the slightest smile curled her mouth. "She's a snarky, stubborn thing," Abby paused, realizing moments later that she'd assigned the presence a gender out loud.

"I'll get a feeling, or emotion from her during tense situations. I'll remember things that I know I haven't been through. Or forget things I know I should know."

Abby took a deep breath. "The worst is when I do things that make me stop and think later, why did I do that? Like gestures, old-fashioned phrases. Or I know something happened but don't remember what. Minor things, so far. Until today."

Her mouth thinned, her fury at Flower Girl mixing with her own misery. Again, she glanced down. She held Sasha's hand a little tighter.

Sasha nodded, acknowledging her insistence that she hadn't known about the shadows before smashing the glass.  To him, it was an unnecessary distinction; he couldn't blame her, either way.  He knew he would have hoped for that absolute same outcome, even if she had known ahead of time, but he kept that thought to himself.  It was a thought that, right now, was probably for his own benefit; it wasn't what she wanted, or needed, to hear.   

So, instead, he focused on the other side of the thought.  "I don't think anyone would blame you, especially since you didn't know.  This is on the Lillys, not you.  Anyone who read the article knows they were the ones responsible for that." 

No, he was definitely better understanding Professor Trishna's perspective in their own conversations.  Even though he knew how difficult it was to look past the guilt and even though he'd previously thought it was better not to push it, he couldn't help it.  Even if she didn't believe it at first, it just felt important that she hear it.  It was, at the very least, another voice that could speak up against the voices in her head. 

And seeing her on the brink of tears was more than enough reason to trust she needed to hear that other voice.  "I don't think anyone would blame you for doing the only thing you could do," he offered.  "And, any that do can only do so because they're speaking from a place of safety and never were forced to chose." 

Sasha took another sip of wine before setting the glass on the coffee table and shifted his position, pulling one leg up on the couch so he could more properly face her. 

"The cold fingers?" he asked, glancing down at her hand in his and brushed his thumb over the top of it.  That, like the hair, he'd been noticing since the beginning.  Though it was good to know there was an explanation for these things, it was also a little unsettling how ... pervasive this presence was. 

He hated the thought that this thing, whatever it was, caused her pain.  She didn't deserve this - any of this.  "I'm so sorry," he offered, quietly, shaking his head. 

"You said you've been going to see the Healers at St. Mungo's.  Have they been able to help with any of that?  Do they have any ideas what to do about ... it ..." 

He hesitated a moment and glanced down at their hands, his brow furrowed in thought.  At first, she'd described it as this mist that got into people and caused confusion.  Almost like a potion that caused an illness that made someone act abnormal.  But, now - Abby made it sound like whatever was inside of her was almost its own identity. 

It was "...She."  He licked his lips and took a deep breath.  "So, it isn't really that you don't fell like yourself.  She ... changes you?  So, today.  That ... that was her?  Is she ... was she someone else?" 

Abby fell quiet as Sasha emphasized that no one could or should blame her. She'd received some awful letters this month. Not many, but enough to almost make her wish Lori was still confiscating her mail. With the Lilly siblings at large and unreachable, a few turned on her, blaming her for their pain, or the pain of a relative possessed, or a hurting friend. Many other letters expressed kindness and support, outrage and horror over her situation. Others confided their own tragic life stories, desperate for someone to understand. Wixes who had experienced abuse as children, wixes who felt trapped in their houses, wixes who felt trapped with their spouses, squibs who felt helpless and alone, wrote to her in droves.

It was too much. For the past few weeks, she only opened letters from names she recognized. Everything else went into a box at the back of her wardrobe, for now.

Abby merely nodded. She nodded again when Sasha asked about the chill in her fingers, appreciating his gesture, his body language as he shifted more towards her, the simple words that he felt sorry.

"The Healers are trying, but nothing has helped so far," she swallowed, afraid of what that meant about today.

He caught on quickly, reading between the lines of what she explained.

"Exactly. It feels like there's... someone else there." Abby took a deep breath, and let it out.

"The Aurors think that," she paused, trying to find the right words. "There were people trapped in the portraits, somehow. People that the Lilly's killed over a span of years, Sasha. Like, it's been going on a long time. They killed them, they somehow put the-" She paused, couldn't bring herself to say soul or pentral. "The essence of their victims into the paintings. When we let them out," she trailed off, lifting her hand in a limp gesture.

Abby turned her face away, and let out a scoffing, shaky laugh. "It's all just insane."

Another thought flickered across Sasha's mind, as he considered the difficulty the Healers were having with the situation.  There was one positive to setting that mist set loose to go after others.  Having a number of witches and wizards afflicted, in addition to Abby, probably gave the Healers a greater sense of urgency than they would have had if it were just Abby.  They were, no doubt, under considerable pressure to find a solution, more so than if it had just been one squib in their care. 

He was trying to wrap his head around the Auror's explanation of the circumstances, without using the word possessed in the conclusion.  But, despite his efforts, that was exactly what it sounded like.  "They think the spirit of one of the past victims latched on to you and ... it- she interacts with you.  And, is taking some control?"  he summarized, falling quiet for a few moments to consider it. 

"It is insane," he finally agreed, shaking his head, slightly. 

"And, the mist ... that large mist.  They think it could be ... it all could be spirits of people they killed?"  Sasha asked, quietly, unsettled by the underlying implications.  The sheer number of victims that represented was disturbing, in itself.  But, to be bearing the spirit of someone who had been murdered by the people who had been holding you captive had to be a horrible burden, on top of everything else. 

Several miserable and horrifying questions surfaced in his head and he took a deep, shaky breath.  "Is that what would have happened?" he asked, quietly, his voice faltering slightly.  He reached for his glass of wine and taking a large drink.  "Is that what they were going to do, to you and Calyx?"

The benefit of dating someone so intelligent was that she only had to explain things once before he leaped to making logical conclusions on his own. She nodded at his questions, understanding just how unsettled he felt.

"Something like spirits, yes."

All those people, dead and trapped. And for what? What purpose did it serve? Abby had glimpsed Lori's bedroom a few times, piled high with treasures that the woman had collected and abandoned as she'd lost interest, leaving the silver tarnished, ignoring the cobwebs collecting in the crevices of the furniture. She'd trapped the pentrals behind gaudy frames and then left them in the dark and dust, alone. She'd lured Abby and Calix in with smiles and affection, then vacillated between ignoring them and terrorizing them, screaming in their faces for daring to ignore her while simultaneously pushing them away.

As Sasha's voice faltered, Abby reached for his arm and gave it a light squeeze. She drained the rest of her wine and set the glass down.

"Possibly? From what I understand, the Aurors think it all relates to whatever ritual they were planning for us. Except they don't understand why the Lilly's kept Calix and I around for so long, and bothered to make my family trust them, and did favors for my parents, and bothered to adopt Calix. If they only wanted to trap us in those portraits, it would have been easier to just kidnap us from our families and kill us right away."

She spoke in a detached, distant voice, and picked up the wine glass and started fiddling with it, turning it in her hands. Abby remembered Calix beside her in the owlery, watching the snow fall. She remembered his fingers on the cello strings, creating something lovely out of the madness.

The protection spell had dissolved when Calix had turned seventeen, and Lori's fury in May suggested she'd had plans with Ira, but that still didn't explain why. Or why they'd chosen two squibs.

"Not that they made much sense in the first place. Lori hated me," Abby shook her head, hurt creeping into her voice. She'd once admired Lori's vivaciousness, her loud laugh, her flattery. "Lee was nicer, but he wasn't good."

He'd asked the question because part of him needed to know.  He'd regretted asking the question because part of him really didn't want to know the answer.  And, though he suspected he knew the answer even before posing the question, he couldn't help but wince and close his eyes as she verbalized it. 

An uncomfortable mix of emotions percolated together.  A jumble of fear and relief at the thought that Abby might not have returned or that she could have ended up trapped in some painting while he blindly continued thinking she'd just moved on.  Guilt that he hadn't paid more attention to his gut when he'd been suspicious about things not being right.  Anger and hatred towards the Lillys for what they'd put Abby and Calix through - and what their potential intentions had been.  Unease and distrust towards the entity that had taken residence in Abby, despite the unsettling realization that - if but for fate and fortune - Flower Girl could have been Abby sometime in the future. 

Slowly, he shook his head, trying to make sense of the writhing mass of thoughts and emotions.  "I'm so sorry," he offered, quietly, still shaking his head.  "I wish ..."  The sentence faded, lost in uncertainty. 

More than anything, he felt a sadness at the thought of Abby facing that all alone.  Having been sent there with, seemingly, no one seeming to notice.  Except, she hadn't been alone.  Calix had been there.  A foster child who, like Abby, had been placed there because others had decided it was best.  Had he had anyone, besides Abby, to remember him?  Or, think of him?  That, on top of everything else, must be a substantial weight. 

"What was he like?" Sasha asked, quietly.  "Calix.  If you don't mind me asking." 

She knew it was a lot for Sasha to hear and handle, and nodded at the sympathy he offered, appreciating it.

Abby smiled shakily at the unexpected question, touched. Few asked about Calix besides the Healers, Level Two, and her mother, who continued to question the nature of their relationship, fixating more on who they'd been to each other than who he was. But Calix had been Abby's only friend for a whole year. She grieved over everything he could have become, if he'd been given a chance.

"Calix was sweet. Very serious. He was much more lighthearted and cheerful at first, when," Abby swallowed. "Aileen met them. I think the Lillys made him put on an act, and then the longer I stayed there, it fell away."

She gave Sasha a searching look, trying her best to be honest but not hurt him. Their act had worked. Aileen had left, Abby had stayed.

"He'd been there for years, and didn't see a point in trying to escape. He didn't have anywhere to go, no one to owl for help. His family gave him up, other families didn't treat him well, and then he ended up with... them."

She glanced down, mouth pursing.

"He was a really good person, in spite of it. I'd get him to joke around sometimes. He'd encourage me to actually explore the study and use the library there," Abby gave Sasha a humorous glance. "Did I tell you he was musically talented? Especially with the cello. He played like, three different instruments. He tried to teach me, but that went about as well as my childhood music lessons."

For a few moments, she tapped her fingers gently against the wine glass, in rhythm with the melody she remembered.

"He'd help out the house elf, too - secretly, so she wouldn't get more upset." Poor Jeeny. Abby gave a strained, bittersweet smile. "He would pretend that he actually enjoyed straightening up and dusting and would convince her of that. Sometimes he'd take over cooking for the day, and tell Jeeny I needed 'help' outside, when really, I'd just ask her to carry something small while we checked in on the horses."

She paused for a long moment. "In that situation it would have been easy to throw each other to the wolves, and yet," Abby met Sasha's gaze. "He didn't."

Sasha took several long sips of wine as he listened, mostly out of a need to be doing something other than an actual desire to consume the wine.  The slight discomfort from the bitterness of the tannins in the wine were also an unexpected welcome element. 

"Sweet and serious?" Sasha repeated, with a slight grin.  "It sounds like we would have gotten along.  I'm sorry I didn't get to know him." 

He was grateful and glad that this Calix had been a source of friendship and comfort.  For a brief moment, that realization did bring a number of unbidden, yet now familiar, questions to mind though he quickly shoved them aside.  They neither seemed fair nor, in the grander scheme of things, relevant and had much more to do with his own lingering uncertainties than anything else. 

Those were for him to deal with on his own.  And, ultimately, she hadn't been alone.  That was what mattered above all else.

But, saying I'm glad he was there even felt wrong.  Callous.  How could anyone wish anyone had been in such a position?  He took another drink, polishing off what was left in his glass and set it on the coffee table. 
 
He chuckled, slightly, and shook his head.  "You didn't tell me," he admitted.  "It sounds like he had more talent than the both of us combined.  And, it sounds like he was clever, if he could outwit a house elf.  Giada will be the first to point out that I haven't managed as much." 

Sasha reached for Abby's hand and held it, gently in his own.  "You know," Sasha offered, tentatively.  He really had no idea how this would go.  From (far too much) personal experience, Sasha knew the benefits of such things were much more obvious in hindsight than on the front end.  But, that was the benefit of having others who could help.  Having others there also had its own benefits.  "If you think it would be helpful to do something to remember him, you just have to ask.  I'd be happy to help and I know others would be there." 

Slowly, Sasha took a deep breath.  There were still so many questions - about Flower Girl.  About how to get Flower Girl out of Abby.  But, he needed a break ... they probably both needed a break.  He cleared his throat and clapped his knees.  "Do you want some popcorn?" he asked, pushing himself to his feet.  "It's just microwave," he admitted with a grin.  "I don't think I've actually even turned that thing on."  He gestured towards the stove as he got to his feet. 

"You would have liked him," she smiled softly, seeing a few similarities. She and Calix had played the 'which house' game and debated between Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff for him, and finally decided on Ravenclaw because she'd told him some of her favorite people were in Ravenclaw.

Clever and talented. Abby nodded. She couldn't tell if the house elf always believed them, or was simply grateful for their kindness and played along, but Calix had tried. While Abby had struggled with their reality and struggled to trust anyone at all in that house, she'd seen him try with the house elf and felt moved to make an effort.

Sasha too, was trying. Doing more than trying. He was handling everything she'd thrown at him with total kindness and, Abby suspected, he was holding back a million questions for her benefit. Every sip of the wine, a swallowed question.

When he took her hand and held it, and offered to do something to remember Calix, she nodded mutely, a lump in her throat.

Abby stood, following Sasha to the kitchen.

"Good idea. I've often thought I needed popcorn to handle my own drama," she let out a shaky laugh, reminded of those ridiculous popcorn-eating gifs online.

Abby glanced at the stove, taking a second to understand his joke. That lump in her throat wouldn't go away.

"May I use your loo?"

She followed his direction, and moved down the hall. Inside the powder room, she leaned her back against the door, and took a few deep breaths. She put her hands over her face, sniffling. Subconsciously, she avoided looking in the mirror.

A few minutes passed. Abby heard the popcorn popping in the microwave. As the pops began to slow, she left the loo and found Sasha with the bag of popcorn.

"I'm back, for real this time."

Giving him a sideways hug, she kissed him on the cheek.

He was the most wunderbar person.

"You should know," she mused. "About well, people who know. About Flower Girl and everything else. Just in case I do something weird again, or if you just need to vent. My family knows, of course."

Her mouth twitched at the thought of Sasha stopping by her parent's house to vent.

"Trevelyan's one of the main Aurors on the case. Raine knows. Oh - and Virgil," she paused. "He guessed, in a way."

Abby thought quickly, trying to figure out a good way to explain that without giving away Virgil's legilimency and dream-walking.

"Level Nine and Level Two have been working together."

That was true enough!

She popped a piece of popcorn in her mouth, and gave Sasha a thumb's up. Not burnt!

For a few moments, the only sound that filled the kitchen was a flurry of minuscule explosions from the bag of popcorn in the microwave.   Sasha leaned against the kitchen island and closed his eyes, briefly, forcing his thoughts to slow down.  But, after a few moments, the flurry of popping eased to only the occasional explosion and Sasha retrieved the steaming bag from the microwave. 

He had just tugged the corners open when Abby stepped back into the kitchen and wrapped her arms around him.  A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as she kissed his cheek and he tilted the bag of popcorn towards her. 

"Alright," he offered, with a nod, and listened as she explained about the others who knew. 

Jonas Trevelyan, he could imagine, would be a useful person to be able to approach.  Sasha remembered meeting him the night of Ava's death and he knew he was someone he could approach.  At least, as an Auror in some sort of official capacity - especially when strange things happened, like today. 

Raine and Virgil were peers and, as such, were more approachable for less official matters.  However, Sasha couldn't quite picture approaching either of them to vent.  He'd considered Raine a close friend, once, but she'd seemed more distant after she'd returned to Hogwarts.  While Virgil seemed friendlier now than he had in school, he was hard to read and Sasha still wasn't sure what the other boy actually thought of him though, if he had to guess, he fell somewhere between Moira and Abby on the 'approvable list'.  Both Virgil and Raine were friendly entities in his life; neither currently felt like allies he could approach about uncomfortable matters.  Unfortunately, there were few alternatives.

But, that was the last thing she needed to worry about.  She had plenty on her plate; that needed to be his responsibility.  "I'll be fine," he offered with a broad grin.  "We'll get through this.  But, I'll definitely reach out to Trevelyan, just to make sure I know what I should be doing.  Or watching for."  And, perhaps, just a brief reassurance that this was not history repeating itself; he was really just barely keeping that fear at bay. 

And, surely, if both Level 2 and 9 were working on it, they had to be close to a solution.  Right? 

"Do they have any ideas of how to-"  he didn't quite know the right phrasing.  Fix it, get rid of her and put it back to normal all seemed like applicable questions, though calloused.  "You know ... do they have any ideas for solutions?  I mean, if she just went into you, can she just come back out?"