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Mark instinctively began to struggle away from Miranda's grip on his wrists. "No! You don't under-- you don't see! It's filthy, don't you see it?" His emaciated frame held a surprising amount of strength for someone who looked half-dead, and he was using it all to try and wrest his hands free.

Into this scene walked Cybil, still carrying the bag. She appraised it at a glance - she'd had her share of experiences with Mark-gone-mad. "Ah. Like this again," she muttered, setting it down. "Miranda, did you get the pills into him?"

Crossing to the two of them, she sat on the bed beside Mark, taking in the welling scratches with a little moue of concern. Instead of taking his hands, though, Cybil went directly to the source of the problem. She took his head in both her hands and turned it towards her, pressing his face gently against her shoulder. "There now, baby," she murmured softly. "You can't see it now. Close your eyes. I'll get you clean, okay?"

There was a noise, perhaps of agreement, maybe just further psychosis, from Mark. Cybil nodded to Miranda. "Keep holding his wrists," she said quietly. "It'll make it easier."

Cybil stroked Mark's sweat-dampened hair gently with the hand that held the back of his head. "Shh," she murmured to him before turning her eyes back to Miranda. "That's okay. He gets sort of hard to handle when he's like this. It gets easier with practice." She continued smoothing down his hair as she spoke. "The pills don't really help, but..."

She reached into a pocket and brought out a small bottle of what looked like hand sanitizer. "Hold still, Mark. You know the cleansing hurts," she told him. Then she began to spritz it onto his arms. There was a lack of the distinctive scent of cleanser, though, and Cybil gave Miranda a sly grin as she soothed Mark into a quieter frame of mind.

"Take these, babe," she told the boy once his mutterings against her shoulder had quieted. "You'll feel better."

Mark took them from her hand hesitantly, then his head lifted and he said, "I smell strawberries."

Cybil laughed. "That's so you," she murmured. "Yeah, I brought you back a treat. You can have it after you take your pills."

Mark obediently took them, and Cybil walked him to the kitchen for water. She gave Miranda a quick glance and mouthed, Explain in a sec.

Once Mark was sitting on the bed, quiet now although still a little shaky and wide-eyed, Cybil patted his shoulder and passed him his strawberry tart. "You eat that and just relax, okay?"

When the boy nodded, Cybil let the boy lean back against the wall and sat down beside Miranda. "It's just salt water," she murmured to the other girl. "It stings, so he feels purified, but it won't infect any cuts he gives himself." She shrugged. "Part of it is tricking him into feeling like he's fixed the problem."

Mark nibbled contentedly on his strawberry tart, not paying attention to either of them. His crazy phase seemed to be quieting down now that he had sedatives and sugar.

Cybil smiled a little and offered Miranda the bag. "Here. You deserve your treat, too. Sorry about that. I wouldn't have abandoned you with him if I'd realized he'd wake up like that. It can be pretty bad."

Cybil gave the slightest of shrugs. "It's okay. Sometimes he wakes up like that," she replied. Her voice was still very quiet and gentle, and she remained relaxed on the bed. "Don't worry. It doesn't happen all the time. Not even often."

She looked back at Mark, who seemed quiet and relaxed now - the sedatives had taken effect. Since he was now calmed down for at least a little while, Cybil settled in with her own treat.

"Find anything while I was away?" she asked. "I mean, I know you were trying to settle him down, but for the rest of the time?"

Cybil got up with a sort of lazy grace and made her way over to the picture, picking it up. It looked nice, she thought. Miranda had some talent, rather like Mark did.

Then her gaze sharpened on the picture itself. It was too damn close. She had just seen this picture, less than a moment or two ago.

But in real life.

"Damn it," she breathed. "Damn it, I knew there was something about that guy." She held the paper, gazing down on it steadily. "This is the bakery I was just in. That's the kid that gave me my goddamn change. I know that guy."

She looked up at Miranda. "How likely is it that he's going to matter to us at some point in the future?"

Cybil gave Miranda a narrow stare. "Would I say it if I wasn't sure?" she asked. Then she sighed and rubbed her forehead. "Sorry. Don't mind me. It's the stress, I guess." She set the picture down - she couldn't remember when she had picked it up.

After listening to Miranda's guesses, she nodded. "Okay," she said at last. "Within a month. Well, we know where to find him if we need him, so it's not like it's a huge deal, Miranda. We don't have to worry about it yet, not yet."

Not yet. Not yet.

But soon. She knew that, could practically hear it.

Mark looked up from his nibbling. He was still a little glassy-eyed and twitchy, but much better, Cybil was relieved to note. "What are we talking about? Who?"

Cybil glared at her, then took a deep breath and looked away. "For sweet baby Jesus's sake, will you stop looking so much like a kicked puppy?" she asked in an undertone of her own. "I already feel like enough of a b***h for being pissed and scared and taking it out on you. Christ."

Turning to Mark, she waited for Miranda to finish her explanation.

The boy nodded sagely when she finished. "So you think he's like us," he summed up, taking it a step further than Cybil had wanted to. "And that we need him."

"I didn't see him in our future," said Cybil immediately, frowning.

Mark shrugged. "You said it changes."

That was the problem with telling people stuff, Cybil thought resignedly. They went out and used it against you.

"Yeah. Yeah, I did."