November 23, Evening

Madoka ended up driving the two of them out to the lab that evening. Despite the fact that it was only a few miles outside of Tokyo, the trip took well over an hour. The lab itself was an unimpressive white, rectangular building surrounded by grassy fields and trees; it looked something like a giant cardboard box that had been discarded there.

After pulling onto the curb, the two of them made their way anxiously to the front door. It had been painted the same color as the rest of the building, but the paint was chipping away in some places, and the metal underneath was clearly visible. The doorknob gave some resistance, but it turned easily. Despite its aged appearance, though, the door didn't make a single sound as it swung open.

To her surprise, the inside looked more like a clinic or a tidy office than what she'd expected a laboratory to look like. There were no ominous, dim lights, no operation tables and strange devices, no scientists dressed in long, white lab coats and masks. Instead, the inside was well-lit, and the walls were freshly painted a soothing pale blue. Soft, spotless carpet covered the floor, and the waiting area at the entrance opened into a hall lined with windowed doors on each side.

One of the doors opened, and a familiar-looking woman walked out into the hall. She looked up, a trace of surprise on her features, then turned to another room and called impatiently, "Charles!"

A muffled voice from inside the room called out something like, "Just hang on!" She scoffed and gave the door an irritated glare before turning to Mai with a nonchalant smile.

"I wasn't expecting you here, but welcome, I suppose. I'm glad to see you're fine. Who's this? A relative?"

Madoka offered her hand. "Mori Madoka, field researcher at SPR."

As soon as Madoka spoke, a shade of suspicion fell over Andrea's face, and her sharp eyes flitted back toward Mai. "I did tell you not to trust SPR."

"Oh." Mai shifted her weight from foot to foot uncomfortably. "That's true, but Mori-san is… fine…"

Andrea sighed and tucked a few loose strands of dark brown hair behind her ear as she looked at Madoka. "So you're here as a personal acquaintance?" When Madoka nodded firmly, she finally relented, taking the offered hand. "Fine, whatever. You're here to return my notebook?"

"Well, actually…" Mai began uncertainly, "We can't really, not yet. I mean, we will, of course, but it's just that there were a few things we wanted to ask first, or rather…"

"First of all, are you busy this afternoon?" Madoka interrupted sweetly. "I'd hate to cut into your time if your schedule is tight."

"Not in particular…" Andrea said warily.

"How lovely," Madoka beamed. "In that case, is there a place we could sit and talk? Or, if you'd prefer, perhaps we could visit a nearby café and chat over tea. Any suggestions?"

Andrea sighed and gave a terse shrug. "Here is fine." Having spoken, she settled into one of the leather armchairs in the corner of the room. When Madoka did the same, Mai hastily followed suit.

"What lovely décor," Madoka commented, giving the room an admiring sweep, looking for all the world as if she were in a best friend's apartment instead of the laboratory of a potentially suspicious stranger. "You really have an eye for color."

"Charles' tastes," Andrea dismissed. "But enough about that. Let's get to the point. What do you want? I can tell you already that if you're looking for the second portion of his research, I don't have it." By the time she finished speaking, a dangerous edge had crept into her voice.

Madoka blinked, perplexed. "I don't know what you're referring to," she said soothingly. "That's not what we're here for."

"Oh, really? Then what?" Despite her skeptical tone, Andrea's face remained neutral as her eyes drifted toward Mai, who decided, after a moment of hesitation, to take it as her turn to speak.

"What were you talking about on the phone that night?" She blurted out. "What did you want with Naru and Gene?"

The sudden mention seemed to surprise Andrea. "What are you talking about?"

"The day after Hirota-san went to visit," she insisted. "You were on the phone with someone… Charles, right? You said something about 'potential' and spirits in the house…"

"Oh, that." The question barely seemed to faze her; Andrea looked at most a little irritated at most, if anything. "You heard that? Is that why you suddenly decided out of nowhere to jump out the window? It was a only simple sensitivity test, since you were going to be there for a while anyways.

"That's it?" Mai asked in disbelief.

She snorted in reply. "Of course that's it. Let me tell you, you nearly gave me a heart attack—I thought I was going to find a corpse, and I didn't exactly feel like being hauled to jail for murder anytime soon."

"But—"

"An unfortunate accident on all sides, it seems," Madoka interrupted lightly with a smile, the very picture of cordiality. "I'm glad we've cleared it up. While we're here, though would you mind telling us a bit about your research? I'm afraid I've never gotten a chance to hear much about it."

Andrea shrugged. "We measure stress responses during ESP usage, most notably during channeling. It's nothing flashy."

"Really?" Madoka tilted her head with interest. "What for?"

"To determine if there are any long-term effects. It's been confirmed that PK causes physical stress on the body. It would follow, then, that ESP might produce mental strain, wouldn't it? Does that stress have any lasting harmful effects? Even in the medical world, psychological conditions are among the least visible and least consistently treated, and that goes doubly so when parapsychology is involved."

"That's certainly true," Madoka agreed. "I'm a bit surprised, though, since it didn't seem to match with the research in your journal. Did that belong your father's?"

"It did…" Andrea answered cautiously.

"And it seems like you don't want SPR or the Special Unit looking at it." Madoka pressed gently. "Is that why you wrote that note to Mai?"

This time, she only shrugged ambiguously.

If Madoka noticed the discomfort in the air, she paid it no heed. "Well, at any rate, I do apologize for holding something so important; we don't have it with us at the moment, since we gave it to a friend for safekeeping, but we'll certainly return it to you the first chance we get. Actually, we came here because we encountered a case that we thought might fall under your area of expertise."

That seemed to catch Andrea's interest, and she raised an eyebrow curiously. "A case?"

"Yes, it's the first time I've ever encountered something like this; it's had us all baffled," Madoka said with a light-hearted smile, as if she found the whole thing quite amusing. "A client of ours has somehow gotten stuck in a possession, but the symptoms really match those of a channeling more closely; we suspect the client may be a latent medium, but as I'm sure you know, that's not our area of expertise." She didn't so much as glance at Mai as she spoke.

The topic must have piqued Andrea's interest as well, since she suddenly seemed to sit up straighter. "Really? What kind of symptoms? And what do you mean by 'stuck'?"

"Non-interpretive, level five-unclassified," Madoka listed off, tapping her cheek thoughtfully. "Class B and C tendencies so far, but possibly more."

"Five-unclassified?" Andrea repeated in disbelief, mounting skepticism in her voice. "You're certain? Can you bring the client in for an interview?"

"Unfortunately not," Madoka said smoothly, sounding genuinely regretful. "The client would like to maintain anonymity. From what I understand, it might turn into a high-profile issue."

She heaved a disappointed sigh. "A pity. And this 'stuck' part? How long as it been?"

Madoka weighed her answer carefully for a few moments before she responded. "A few days," she said finally.

Almost instantly, the color drained out of Andrea's face, and she stood up in alarm. "A few days?" She repeated with horror. "You're saying this client has been channeling continuously for a few days?"

"The specifics are a little more complex, but essentially… yes."

She shook her head slowly, looking as if she were trying to wrap her head around it. "And exorcising didn't work?"

"It didn't," Madoka answered gravely.

"That's…" Andrea seemed to struggle for words for a few moments; finally, she gave up and let out another heavy sigh. "What about a way to sever the empathic connection? Do you have any leads?"

"Other than outright relying on traditional spiritualist methods, no. But naturally, that option should be left for a last-resort c—"

"Is your practitioner reliable?" Andrea interrupted seriously.

Madoka blinked. "Well, yes, but the curse itself—"

"Try it."

"Excuse me?" Not even Madoka could hide her surprise.

"Exorcism didn't work, and you have no other leads. This is a last-resort situation."

For a few, heavy moments, Madoka weighed the statement in silence. "That's your professional recommendation?"

The question got a snort out of the other researcher. "As much as any of us can be considered professionals, yes." Andrea's tone quickly became serious again, though. "I'm telling you—and your "client"—that this is no simple matter. Putting that kind of strain on the mind for hours, let alone days is far too big a risk. You need to end this, fast."

"… I'll take that into consideration. Thank you for your time."

November 23, Late Night

Her surroundings were a strange shade of grey. She looked at her hands, but they were an oddly flat color, and it took her a few minutes to realize why they looked so strange. There were no shadows, as if light was distributed evenly across every inch of her skin. Blinking, she looked around and spotted a familiar figure in the haze.

"Gene," she called, a smile lifting the corners of her mouth. If being possessed came with being able to see him more often, it wasn't that terrible of a trade, she supposed.

"How are you?" He asked warmly. "I hope it's not too bad. Your current state, I mean."

She shook her head. "Not at all. I just sleep a bit more than usual, that's all. Rather, I should be asking that of you—are you sure you're fine? Being kept back here and all."

"Honestly, I've never been better," he answered lightly. "It's much easier to think here."

"And your memories? Have you gotten them back?"

A troubled expression crossed his face for the briefest fraction of a second. "It's still slow, but they are coming back…"

Mai looked down at the grey expanse at her feet. "Does that mean we're running out of time?"

"A little," Gene admitted.

"I'm still not sure I get what it all means, though," she said uncertainly. "What was that woman talking about? A curse? Are there really no leads as to how to fix this?"

"Well…" he said slowly, "No… and yes."

"What do you mean?" She peered at him suspiciously.

He gave a helpless shrug. "The others can't find a solution because they've assumed the point of synchronization was the warning itself; that's impossible, though, since the circumstances that created the need for it no longer hold, yet this… situation remains. And channeling based on a circumstantial emotion tends to be unstable, anyways. In other words, the point of synchronization is something much more fundamental to you, something much more constant to your emotional state—and mine." He half-smiled.

She nodded blankly. "Which means what?"

"Since they have the wrong point, they're looking in the wrong places for how to eliminate it. But that's just as well, since there really is no way to break the real point of synchronization… unless you can radically alter your emotions at the snap of your fingers."

"But what about hypnotism…?" She asked uncertainly. "Or, rather… suggestion, I mean…?"

"It wouldn't work. Suggestion only draws out what's in your subconscious already; it can't act completely counter to that."

"So then… how would a curse…"

"It would cut off the source generating the emotion driving the synchronization."

"Cut it off?" She repeated. "How?"

"By forgetting," he said simply. "Forgetting him."

She looked at him in disbelief. "Is that even possible?"

"Lin can do it. He says it's very difficult to pull off, but I've seen him use it once."

"Impossible…" She said slowly, her head reeling as she shook her head. A sudden thought struck her. "How long have you known?"

He shrugged apologetically. "We guessed fairly early on," he admitted.

"'We'? Naru knew? And he didn't feel like telling me something this important?" She demanded acidly. "I suppose I shouldn't even be surprised at this point."

"It wasn't too long ago," Gene assuaged. "He was planning to tell you, but please understand… He's not any happier about it than you are."

She took a deep breath to still her fraying nerves. "It wouldn't permanent, would it?"

"For you… it would be."

"'For me'?" She echoed blankly.

"I could, ostensibly, do it as well," he said softly. "The condition is merely that one of us removes that commonality."

She frowned. "And it wouldn't be permanent for you? Why?"

"It's a possibility, since Noll and I are telepathically linked." He shrugged. "Besides, I'm dead. Who knows what space our memories exist in, really? The probability that they'd come back in one form or another is fairly high."

"But you don't know."

He laughed lightly. "What do we know, really? How do we know what we know? Do I even exist? Do you really exist? Descartes' argument was shot full of holes decades ago, after all."

"You're changing the topic on purpose," she accused.

"I wouldn't dream of it," he promised. He hesitated, studying her closely. "You're scared."

She shook her head vigorously.

"You're shivering," he pointed out.

She scowled and pried her fingers from her arms, willing her shoulders to still; she hadn't even noticed the tremors. "I'm not."

"Now you're just acting like him," Gene remarked. "There's nothing wrong with admitting that you're afraid."

The accusation hit the nail on the head; she relented with a sigh. "… I am," she admitted. "I'm scared that nothing will be the same. That we'll be strangers again, or worse. Our first encounter didn't exactly go well." She smiled wryly. "Though, since I won't remember in the first place, I suppose it won't matter to me, anyways."

"You've misplaced several factors in that equation," Gene said mildly. "But it's all irrelevant. You don't have anything to worry about; it's only reasonable that I take the curse, since I have a better chance of remembering, after all."

"You can't," she said firmly. "It's too risky. You don't know for sure that you'll remember."

"Now you really sound like him."

"He can't lose you again," she protested. "You have to know how much you mean to him."

"Every bit as much as he means to me," Gene affirmed, then sighed. "Too much, even, I think. We were always in each other's heads; it took separation for me to realize that we were far too dependent. We would have had to grow apart someday, anyways."

"But not like that! Not like this." She gestured at the empty space with vehemence.

"Trial by fire, I suppose," he remarked lightly. "But that's exactly why it can't be you. Don't you see? You're alive."

"Maybe so, but you don't understand…"

"You're the one who's not trying to understand," Gene said gently. "We're only delaying the inevitable; I shouldn't even have these memories. And anyways, forgetting is part of the cycle of rebirth."

"But you don't even know when that'll happen! To be stuck here without even remembering the person most important to you—that would just be too awful."

"That's my decision, not yours," he said evenly.

"There's got to be another way," she said desperately. "You were an experienced medium, weren't you? Do you really not have any ideas? At all?"

He lowered his eyes with a reluctant shrug. "I don't know. I might have been able to pull myself away, but… since I don't have my memories right now, I can't say for certain."

"Do you really think so? Do you think I could learn how to do that?"

"In a couple of years, certainly," Gene answered. "But for this case… there isn't enough time." When her shoulders sank in disappointment, he sighed and continued. "Listen, I know it's unfair of me to ask this of you, but it's my only option. Tell Lin that I'd be okay with the… necessary actions."

"I can't possibly—"

"Please," he interrupted. "You don't have to say anything else. Just tell him that I'd be okay with it. You can do that much, can't you?"

November 24, Very, Very Early Morning

The lights to the office were still on when Madoka pushed the door open wearily. She glanced at the young researcher sitting casually on the sofa with disapproval.

"It's the middle of the night," she pointed out.

Naru didn't even glance her way. "I didn't think you one to point out such asinine observations. Though, if you're going to argue over technicalities, it's morning."

"Why are you still awake?" She asked, raising an eyebrow.

"You don't look asleep to me, either."

It was hardly an encouraging response, but she hadn't expected much else, anyways. With a heavy sigh, she sat down beside him to peer at the papers he was reading. "You're still looking for an alternative solution?"

"No" he answered crisply. "I'm looking for a real solution, one that's more than pure speculation—" Something about what she'd said made him stop, though. He turned to look at her sharply. "Why do you say 'alternative'?"

Madoka held up her hands in surrender. "Before you start getting all sorts of awful ideas in your head, I was there the whole time. There was no risk… Well, minimal risk. We didn't give any specifics—no names."

"To who?" He pressed, though she could tell that he knew the answer already.

She smiled vaguely but didn't answer, just to let him have the satisfaction of being right. And he might react a little less unhappily if he didn't have something to react to in the first place, she figured.

"Louen," Naru stated. Despite her precautions, his voice crescendoed ever so slightly–never a good sign. "You, at least, should have known better than to take sensitive information about such a unique case to another researcher, of all people."

"Goodness, Oliver, is that prejudice against your own occupation?" She asked amiably.

"Scruples are in short supply in this line of work when a potential breakthrough is concerned," he said acidly.

"If I had thought that was going to be the case, I wouldn't have divulged our predicament," Madoka assured. "I've double-checked everything she said. It's all true."

"Telling the truth and acting against our interests are not mutually exclusive."

"Oliver, you didn't see the color her face turned when we mentioned it. I'm don't doubt that she feels like she has some personal stake in this whole affair. I looked into it, actually; it seems like their father, Alfred Louen had to be hospitalized for psychiatric care more than once in his later life, though he was never officially diagnosed."

"So you're betting that empathy stemming from childhood experiences will be enough to counteract any desire for personal gain," Naru said cynically.

"If Mai had sensed any ill intent around her, she wouldn't have let me speak," Madoka said softly. "Surely you trust her judgment there, at least."

He looked away. "And?" He demanded sharply. "Did you actually find out anything worthwhile, or was it a complete waste of time?"

At the question, she let out a deep breath and looked up at the ceiling. "… I suppose it's a blessing that Lin has such a diverse set of talents," she said finally.

"So it was a waste of time, then." He turned his attention back to the papers in his hands. "If you've nothing else to contribute—"

"Oliver," she said with uncharacteristic firmness. "Caution is an admirable trait, but you can't let yourself be paralyzed by it, either. We just received a prognosis from an expert on the topic, and you still aren't satisfied. When will you accept that you've gone through as many possibilities as you possibly can?"

"When I have. The volume of sources on the topic is vast."

"Myths," she disagreed. "Legends. Rumors. Not real academic work."

"To deny the potential in folk tradition as a parapsychologist is laughable," he said tersely.

"Surely even you have to recognize that you're grasping at straws now. As much as I would love for a better solution to fall out of the sky—"

"Curses are unwieldy and unreliable at best. It would be foolish to rely on them as a solution."

"Lin is an expert, and besides, the original option might not be as bad as it seems," Madoka argued. "You could see it as your chance to redo things, without any mistakes this time—on your part, at least. Haven't you always wanted that?"

His answering glare could have frozen the whole room over.

"Alright," she retreated hastily. "I'm sorry. That wasn't fair of me. But you understand what I'm saying, right? If this were any other case, would you wait?"

There was no response.

"Look," Madoka said with a sigh, "I'm going to ask Lin to start making the arrangements tomorrow—today, rather—whether or not you agree. I'm not so unreasonable to demand that you take a active role in this, but I suggest, for your own peace of mind, that you come to terms with it before then."

A/N: Apologies for the unannounced absence. If you guessed that I hit a writer's block and subsequently decided to use all my keyboards as kindling and swear off the use of the English language for several weeks straight... you'd be absolutely correct. Having said that, with the school year starting up proper now, I'll have to juggle fanfiction writing with being attacked by sentient squirrels holding overpriced textbooks while ominously chanting exam dates, so updates may be unpredictable and slow in coming. Thank you in advance for sticking around and bearing with the absolute mess that is my motivation levels.