Balance

She had been sitting in the car for a half hour.

She'd been going over how to approach this. She had only one shot at getting it right and, if she failed, her greatest chance at regaining herself would be gone. That thought managed to penetrate the sludge of her emotions to send a shiver through her.

The fucking sludge.

She still didn't have a better way to describe it. What the curse had done to her, it hadn't suppressed every feeling she had, it had submerged it, burying it under what felt like an unshiftable weight of just...nothing. That was what she felt. Nothing. She was aware of her feelings, they still beat deep inside of her, but they were so far out of reach.

The only thing she could grasp was her bloodlust. It fluctuated, sometimes overwhelming and sometimes a background hum. But it was always there, waiting for her to give in and lash out. She had taken a shot at the Doktor the night before last, got him down his flesh-and-blood arm with a shard of glass. His response was to blast her in the face with a handgun round, and blow a hole through her brain. This did serve to reveal something to them, though.

Suffering grievous injuries seemed to “reset” her, calming her bloodlust and putting her in a neutral state. The Doktor and Cyril both theorized to her that it was due to how much energy was required to heal her injuries, the curse was temporarily unable to work it's influence over the rest of her. They seemed really happy with this realization, taking it as something no one had apparently documented about the Perfect Evil before. All it meant to her was that she had a small bit of control, now. If she felt her bloodlust becoming too much, she would plunge the knife she'd started to carry on her person into her body, and force a reset.

She had expressed her sincerest thanks to the two for discovering this, as even this small bit of control brought her something that, if she was able to identify feelings, she would call hope. Perhaps there was a way to control it even farther than that, she began to think. Jon had gone on about how she should be able to control it because reasons that had become submerged under the sludge as well, but she figured it was nothing but talk to convince her to take the curse off his hands. But now...now she was starting to believe it.

And she needed to control it, she knew. Because she had come to the most important realization: that as things were, she was no longer Eve.

Not that there was much that could be considered merely her to begin with, but even those things were under threat of staying permanently under sludge. She had come to realize this when she had gone back to Twitter, and finally spoken to Carey once again. Her best friend in the entire world, someone she should have been overjoyed to speak to again.

And she didn't feel a single twinge speaking to him.

To him it probably seemed she did, but that was only because she tweeted out how she thought she would tweet in that situation, if she could feel things. But there had been no genuine emotion in her saying to him she missed him.

Hell, the only person that brought anything up in her that night was Fowler, and that was because he sparked her bloodlust. She still had daydreams about picking his skull apart....

She sighed to herself, and realized it was useless to keep wasting time in the car. It was time to meet who she had come to meet. Her greatest chance. She had asked the Doktor if she could use his computer, a fancy supercomputer with files on so many things she couldn't begin to understand, saying she wanted to keep track of what was happening with her friends and use it to learn things she didn't know yet. He allowed her full access and the moment he was gone she'd begun to search for someone who could help her. Someone who understood being unable to feel emotion like a person, it buried under so much sludge, someone who could help her control it. When she found his name, she realized how small the world was.

Finding him had been easy, once she knew his MO. No one would pick up on the pattern if they didn't know who they wanted to find, but for her it was easy. Follow ruined lives, chart a course up California. All she had to do when she found the last one was continue up to the next town on the map. Medium-sized, small enough to not have too many people that could recognize him while being large enough that a new resident wouldn't be too noticeable.

Getting permission to leave the compound was, also, surprisingly easy. All she did was ask the Doktor for permission, telling him she wanted to get out and explore California, see if it could awaken something in her. He simply asked she keep a record of her travels, and let him know immediately if she felt anything. She agreed, and was out the door.

And here she was now, walking up the path to a small house, place just far enough from others to be private without being overtly noticeable as being away from others. She walked up the porch and stopped in front of the door. She took a deep breath and knocked.

The door opened a few moments later, and she would have felt surprised if she was capable of it. He didn't look exactly like himself. Staring enough she realized it was a combination of dying his hair blond and makeup that gave the illusion his cheeks were more sunken than they were. What had to colored contacts only helped. No wonder no one had recognized him. He quirked an eyebrow at her.

Eve: Ah...Mr. Bowie?

Mr. Bowie: Yes.

Eve: Hello! My name is Eve, I'm with the county. There's still some paperwork you need to sign to do with your property.

He looked at her without a word for a few moments, his expression unreadable. Then he pushed the door open fully.

Mr. Bowie: So be it. Please, come in, make yourself comfortable.

She nodded and stepped through the threshold into his domain. It was...plain. Normal. It was exactly what she would expect. He was so practiced at this. He stepped past her, walking towards the kitchen.

Mr. Bowie: Would you like some coffee?

Eve: Ah, no thank you. I don't drink....coffee.

He nodded before stepping into the kitchen. She stepped into the living room and saw there was a coffee table with a chair on either side. She took a seat in one of them and waited. He reappeared shortly after, carrying a mug of steaming coffee, and took his seat across from her.

Eve: So...how long have you been living here, sir?

Mr. Bowie: Ah, just about a month now. I moved in the middle of December.

Eve: Where from?

Mr. Bowie: Nowhere important. I simply wished for a change of scenery. Now, about that paperwork?

Eve: Ah, yes....I think I left it in my car, actually.

Mr. Bowie: I see. What a shame. Well, I'm surprised the county has anything for me to sign at all. I thought everything was in order.

Eve: Well, you know how these things are, it happe-

He cut her off.

Mr. Bowie: Especially considering this property isn't under my name at all, I'm renting it from another man who was quite happy to have someone stay in his house and keep things in order while he was off vacationing in l'Italia.

Shit.

Mr. Bowie: Beyond that...did you really think I don't still watch the shows and wouldn't recognize your face?

Shit shit.

Mr. Bowie: Frankly, I'm insulted by the underestimating of my intelligence....Parasite.

And his arm flashed forward, throwing the mug in her face, the scalding hot coffee splashing her full in the face. The liquid itself didn't cause any feelings of pain, but she was still blinded. She started to stand from the chair, only to receive a kick to the gut that sent her careening over the chair to the floor. She furiously wiped at her eyes, clearing them of the burning, doing her best to push the curse to repair her eyes before anything. By the time she stood up she could see again, and could see him with one foot planted behind the other, one arm extended. A fighting stance. Shit. He seemed a bit surprised she was able to get back up considering the noticeable burns now on her face. She tried to capitalize on the surprise by leaping forward at him quick as she could, but he had her scouted and side stepped, leaving her to land awkwardly and be rocked by a kick to the back of the head.

For a 39 year old the bastard was spry.

He smiled at her as she turned to face him again. She started to open her mouth to talk, but he responded by jumping and nailing her with a fist to the face, knocking her back again. As she finished going backwards he crashed into her, taking them both to the floor. He was far stronger than she was, and he quite effectively had her pinned down, his hand keeping her arms held above her head. He looked down at her and the look on his face seemed more annoyed than anything.

Mr. Bowie: You aren't going to survive.

There was a glimmer of light from his other hand and her eyes widened as he jammed a knife into her chest, right through her heart. He twisted it before pulling it from her chest, a spurt of blood hitting him in the face, splashing diagonally across his face.

Mr. Bowie: I can't let a single witness live, not anymore.

She opened her mouth, to simply say the words that she felt no pain, that he hadn't done anything to her, but he silenced them before they could come as he slashed one time, slitting her throat. Blood began to spray from the wound, covering the man in more of her lifefluid. She thought it was actually an appropriate look for him. He stood up, dropping the knife beside her, and walked to the kitchen as if he'd already forgotten her.

The man walked to the sink and began to wash his hands. How bothersome this was. Now he'd have to immediately move on, continue his trek up California. No, he thought, that would put him too close to...

East. He'd go East. Vegas would be an interesting place to stay for a spell. Hell, he could visit an old friend if he went there...she'd be so happy to see him, he was sure. He'd keep the look he had now, he was partial to it. He'd need to torch the house, no fingerprints to trace him. He really should sandpaper those away one of these days.

The shuffling of feet broke his thoughts. He slowly turned and came face to face with Eve. She stood in front of him, blood still running down her chest from her slit throat and the wound in her chest. She reached one hand up and pushed her head down, pressing the two edges of her cut throat together, and as he watched the ends began to slowly fuse back together. She was healing, he realized. He stared at this sight for a long, long time before speaking.

Mr. Bowie: Huh. Well aren't you something.

She smiled.

–

They sat across from each other again. Eve pressed a towel to her body, the fourth she'd gone through in the vain hope of not getting her blood everywhere. Fortunately he was too interested in her to actually care about the blood stains everywhere.

Mr. Bowie: And it's a curse that's the cause of all this?

She nodded, causing a tiny bit of blood to spurt out of the sliver that remained of the cut on her throat.

Eve: Yeah. And the entire thing is just...I don't want to lose myself. Do you understand?

He shrugged.

Mr. Bowie: Once upon a time.

Eve: And I just thought that you seemed to be the perfect person. You know about this kind of...suppression. Of living with this kind of thing, of not letting it control you. Controlling it.

Mr. Bowie: Well, I'm not perfect at control either.

Eve: Still. You're better at it than I am. I can't say that I'm begging, that kind of emotion's beyond me, but I'm imploring you to help me.

He sighed, leaning back in his chair.

Mr. Bowie: How bothersome. I wanted out of all this.

He didn't say anything for a few moments. Eve pulled the towel away and pressed her hand against where her wounds had been. Gone. She dropped the towel to the side with the other soiled ones.

Mr. Bowie: So be it.

She tilted her head.

Mr. Bowie: I'll assist you. I can't deny I'm finding this curse of yours fascinating. I'll do my best.

She smiled at him.

Eve: Thank you. I'll be in your debt.

Mr. Bowie: I wouldn't say that. I'd certainly call that debt in.

Eve: So be it if that's the price.

She paused a moment, a thought occurring to her.

Eve: What should I call you?

Mr. Bowie: Mr. Bowie is quite fine, thank you.

Eve: Really? Not....?

He cut her off hard.

Mr. Bowie: No. That name is dead. I'm finished with it.

She slowly nodded.

Eve: As you wish. When do we start?

He stood up and walked across the living room, crouching down to pick up the knife he had dropped earlier, still wet with her blood. He looked back at her with a smile, holding the knife up.

Mr. Bowie: Immediately.

–



Mr. Bowie: It's a matter of balance.

They sat on the floor across from one another. Eve watching him as he held his hands up in front of him, pressed together.

Mr. Bowie: Imagine this point is what you want. Where the two parts of you come together in as much harmony as they can exist together in. Where neither impedes the other, where the one in control is you. Where you stay you.

Eve nodded.

He extended his left hand as far left as he could reach.

Mr. Bowie: This is the point you're at now and usually. The low point, where everything about you is controlled by the curse.

Eve: I get that. So the far right is going to be me as a normal human, yes? Isn't that what I should be aiming for instead of this mixed center?

Mr. Bowie: With this curse, I don't think so. It's nothing but a theory I have, but I think that if you tried to suppress the curse too much it'd backfire, and send your feelings into overdrive. Like a meth addict tweaking out.

Eve: Is that really possible?

Mr. Bowie: Again, nothing but theory, but I think that since the curse enhances everything else about you, I don't see why it wouldn't be able to enhance your emotions too. If it can, then reaching the far right would leave you overtly emotional, and violent.

Eve: Great. So I have to shoot for center.

Mr. Bowie: Correct. You have to curb the curse under your heel, not let it control you, force the sludge off of your emotions and feel. But you also have to not push it too far away. It's part of you, and it's here to stay. You have to bring everything into harmony.

Eve: Sounds like a piece of cake.

Mr. Bowie: You should have known walking in this wouldn't be easy.

Eve: I did. So, how do I achieve this center? How do I not go too far one way or another?

Mr. Bowie: An anchor.

Eve: What?

Mr. Bowie: An anchor, Eve. It's something you have clear in your mind. The one thing that, over everything else, is why you're trying to reach this center. Something that most represents "you" to you. It's something you can plant straight in the middle between the two parts of yourself, to serve as the one thing you can always count on to be your guide to the center, to being you.

She sat in silence for a few moments, then nodding.

Eve: I understand. I think...I think I know who that might be.

Mr. Bowie: Are you sure?

Eve: It's hard to be certain of anything with this curse.

Mr. Bowie: Then go to it. If it is, then you'll know.

She nodded.

Eve: In that case, I'm heading to Japan.

She stood up and grabbed her bag from the table. He looked up at her.

Mr. Bowie: Find and define your anchor, then return to me. Then I'll show you how to define all the parts of yourself.

Eve: Boy, that sounds like a barrel of fun. I'm off, then.

She stood up and walked past him, heading for the door. Suddenly a thought came to her, and she stopped. She looked back at him.

Eve: May I ask you something?

Mr. Bowie: You'll do it regardless, so go ahead.

Eve: ...what's your anchor?

There's only silence. His head drops for a moment, but only a moment before perking back up.

Mr. Bowie: Don't bother yourself with things that aren't your business. Go find yours, that's what matters.

She frowned, but nodded.

Eve: As you wish. I'll speak to you when I'm back from Japan.

He didn't respond, only briefly raising a hand as a farewell. She pushed through the door and disappeared from the house.

The man sat alone in silence for a long time after.

–

Doktor Alexander Adversary: She's lying to us.

Dr. Cyril Kuller: I know.

Doktor Alexander Adversary: Any idea what she's up to when she leaves the compound?

Dr. Cyril Kuller: Not a one. She's clearly not exploring California. I'm surprised you haven't put a GPS tracker on her.

Doktor Alexander Adversary: I want to trust her. She's not making it very easy.

Dr. Cyril Kuller: I know. But I haven't seen her make any steps backwards. Wherever she's going, it's not causing problems with her condition.

Doktor Alexander Adversary: Which is why I haven't confronted her over it. I'll continue to do my best to trust her.

Dr. Cyril Kuller: Thank you....

Doktor Alexander Adversary: Something the matter?

Dr. Cyril Kuller: Not really. It's nothing to do with Eve, and it's nothing concrete, but....

Doktor Alexander Adversary: But?

Dr. Cyril Kuller: Just something I've been noticing. It's nothing but paranoia, I'm sure, but if I was right...that'd mean a third one is involved here.

A moment of silence.

Doktor Alexander Adversary: Seriously?

Dr. Cyril Kuller: Again, it's nothing but a bit of a paranoid theory but, if it were true, if there's another of the Ten with his hands in this place, then...

There is silence for a moment as they both let it sink in, before Alexander summed up what they were both thinking.

Doktor Alexander Adversary: What the hell is wrong with this company?

End.