Dr. Helen Magnus

Will was gone when she found it. In retrospect, it was probably a good thing.

He'd gone to the psychology office and Helen had tried to spend her morning leisurely in bed but old habits died hard and after only forty minutes or so of tossing and turning she got up, stumbling over something left in the floor and cursing the cat until she looked down and saw it most certainly was not Austen; she'd climbed up on the bed to overtake the warm spot left by Helen's vacating and it was there.

The jar had rolled away from her leather duster some and Helen froze stock still in panic before sinking down to her knees to make sure the seal was still airtight. It seemed to be, but she'd never turned it on its side before and hoped that didn't matter in the end. She couldn't inflict it on the world, not like in that alternate universe.

Was the island another part of that universe? Part she didn't remember?

She clutched the jar against her chest and rocked slightly, frantic despite Austen's attempts to calm her by rubbing against her legs and purring. She needed Will. She needed Will badly and she didn't think she had the legs to go find him at the moment so she waited. And she rocked.