Changes. Changes, changes and changes. He walked around the desolate corridors, trying to come up with some sort of excuse for his actions and state - he couldn't. Maybe they would send him to Milton's just after the expedition ended and, worst of all, he wouldn't have an excuse.

It was wickedly amusing, even, to watch his whole life fall apart just like that.

Just like that.

He couldn't help but remember all the times in his childhood, when he was happy and free. But for him, whether he realized it or not, all those memories weren't joyful at all, but that's all he had. So he adored them. Even bullying. Or ignorance. This ignorance gave him the opportunity to think as a child, and now as an adult, he lusted for that ignorance. For he would feel free once again.

Now the attention centered on him was so negative, he didn't feel like he was dealing with this pressure and this feeling of dread that was already there, and that there was the end of the world, the end of his living even if the end didn't happen, he would still be dead, practically unable to bring anything new to the world and stuck in the trap of his own mind, berated, trapped, beaten down -

He couldn't let go. Not right now. He tried to think again of a solution to the dimensional theory, to make something come out of his mind, just at the time he really needed it, it didn't cooperate. Why was he fated to be ended that way? Why was he a criminal? Why did they make him?

Now that he thought about it, he traced down a path of his life starting from the second he introduced his theory to the research team and to where he was now. He looked at the windows - illuminators - which were Stygian black, and concluded that somebody had wanted him to suffer and designed a cunning plan to get him to where he was now. It wasn't Miss Chaisson. The 70-year-old woman wouldn't be able to get him like that, he could see it in her eyes when she made those snide remarks that she was just trying to seem confident, but it also wasn't Arlene, because, well... She may have been a spy, but just one. She didn't have the finances to send a 20-people submarine on a grande Atlantic mission, and his inner intuition told him that she wasn't after making him struggle; she had warned him, after all. A familiar question came into his mind once more. Was she...?

He tried to shut his thoughts out, and frantically paced around the room, crushing his fingers. He couldn't let his irrationale cloud his consciousness. Not right now, at least. Maybe when the party was over...

"Led."

He didn't want to turn around. Maybe those were the Minoans. Or those crazy ripper-voices inside his head.

"A secret for a secret."

But no, it was Meddles' voice. It was quiet. As if guilty. He had no choice but to turn around.

Meddles was outwardly calm, but his voice sounded as if he had been crying.

"What do you mean?" Led questioned.

"You tell what troubled you, and I tell what troubles me," Meddles replied, stepping closer. There was a hopeful look in his eyes. "The condition is: neither of us tell anybody about the other's secret."

"Well, deal. I can't be in a worser state right now. What do you want to know?" Led dolefully asked.

"Why were your clothes ripped?"

There issued a pause.

"I don't know."

"That's not the answer, Led. Despite everybody else, I don't think you were insane," Meddles stated.

Led stared.

"How could you not?" He said, the disbelief evident in his tone. He had been standing right there for so long sulking about his meaningless existence when this phrase came hurling at him.

"Because I have a theory on how this could happen. A scientific one. But I need to know what happened first, and then I'll tell you what I think of it." He was unusually straightforward for his usual tactfulness.

Led had never seen Meddles that honest.

The young physicist looked at the black windows. He would possibly have to see some latticed windows like that every day throughout the rest of his life. If Meddles helped him with something scientific, maybe he would not have to see those windows.

"Very well," Led replied, straightening up and adjusting the sleeves of his black jacket which gave away his only sign of nervousness, "I'll tell you everything. I heard voices. They threatened me with soul-death and bit my body."

"What colour was the library lit in?"

Meddles didn't even blink an eye.

Led's eyebrows shot up, despite how he usually controlled his emotional responses.

He tried to remember.

"Eh, violet? Or something between violet and black. Sometimes I thought I had lost my eyesight."

"Do you happen to know that violet was the trademark colour of the Minoan civilization, their symbolics always included a pearl bracelet and a magenta-hued portrait?"

"Explain." Led said mistrustfully.

"Just a moment. Did the voices, at any instance, say your name?"

He pondered.

"Yes. First thing, nearly."

"That makes it more difficult, but it's okay. Did they mention any personal details about you?"

"No, just the expedition. They said that once we get to the bottom of the Atlantic ocean, they would steal our souls except mine."

"That's quite a bummer," Meddles smiled. But his eyes - not at all. The corners of his mouth straightened. "That may mean that our paths have crossed. The past and the future. Would it be possible that, by your theory, the two time-dimensions may "layer on top of each other"? So that it causes disturbances in space-time, kind of, like, two structures merging together?"

"I haven't thought of that, possibly," Led stated, as if not believing himself. "I haven't accounted for that probability in my equations. Mathematically, it also seems well-based..."

Was this a way?

"We'd have to expand on all possible continuations, of course, but it wouldn't take much work. It seemed ridiculous at first to me, but, you know, maybe that would help you restore your reputation."

"Meet you up at nine?" Meddles offered, seeing no reaction from the youngster's side.

Led couldn't form words.

He only nodded.

"Settled, then. I'll expect you in the library at nine to do some research."

"Can it not be at the library?" Led pleaded. He hated to see that place after all the issues it had caused him.

Meddles smiled. "Of course."

Maybe he would have the chance to be happy again.

As Meddles was leaving, Led remembered one thing he had meant to say.

"Sorry to remind, but what is your secret?" He asked. Meddles stopped, not turning round, as if hesitating, before answering:

"Don't worry about it too much, Led. It doesn't hold much interest.

"If you want, I'll tell you later."