Disclaimer: I do not own Claymore. If I did own Claymore, I would use the money to move to Canada, so I can tie myself to trees and scream at loggers for a living.

Author's Note: I will try to post often, even though this is only one of the many projects I've been working on lately. I plan to put a lot of emotion into this story. Yuri? Maybe, if I think it's appropriate and will contribute to the mood I'm trying to set. Enjoy ~~

There I lay, face first in a pool of my own blood, which had been increasing for god knows how long. The same scenes kept playing over in my head, much like a picture book: Teresa's sword sliced through Priscilla's neck in a storm of blonde hair, blade and blood. Priscilla's head fell to the ground with a sickening plop that rang in my ears for hours afterwards. Blood poured out of Priscilla's headless body, like a river. The human girl ran out of the hotel and into Teresa's arms, smiling up at her as the Claymore petted her. Teresa held the girl's hand as they approached me. "Give it up," Teresa had told me as they passed. "As long as this girl is in my care, I cannot be killed."

I, Irene, had been promoted back to my spot as number 2 in the Organization. I had been promoted in the worst way possible; I witnessed the death of the woman who took my place, and it was not by my own hands.

I, Irene, had been hardened to life as a Claymore. After I was given my symbol, I vowed to never shed another tear. I learned how to ignore the incredible evil that pulsed deep within me and how to shake off the death of a comrade. It wasn't until that day that I broke my vow. A tear rolled down my cheek, dropping to the blood soaked ground beneath me. Another fell after it, and then another. Soon, my face was buried in my arms in an attempt to muffle my sobs.

Was I mourning? Not at all. I never cared for Priscilla much. I cried because I felt helpless, over-estimated and violated. One thing was for certain: Teresa would never pay for her "crime" against humanity.

"What is your excuse, Irene?"

I looked him straight in the eyes, keeping my posture dignified. Rather than using the conference room, we talked in one of the many dark and dreary hallways of the Organization headquarters. Noel and Sophia stood behind me, and I could feel the agitation between them. "We overestimated Teresa's abilities." I told him simply. What else was there to say?

"Tell me," The man put his hands behind his back in a formal gesture that was almost warrior-like. "Be honest, now. Do you think we have any chance of defeating Teresa?"

"No matter how many skilled warriors we send after her, the results will always be the same."

"Are you sure about that?"

A shudder ran down my back at the question; it meant an error had been made on my part. I had been asked that countless times when I sparred with Teresa. Oh, yes, I remember those battles well.

"Are you sure about that?" Teresa asked, after my blade collided with hers. I cursed under my breath, realizing that I had left a spot open for an incoming attack. Before I could react, Teresa pulled her blade away, using my unbalanced posture to her advantage, knocking the heavy claymore out of my hand. I felt the slight sting of the tip of her sword against my throat, and she smiled at me. Even back then, during training, she had been called Teresa of the Faint Smile.

"Yes," I finally said, knowing my answer would not make a difference in his opinion.

"Really," Rumito said, scowling at me. There were a few moments of silence, before he spoke again. "All three of you can take two days off to rest. You look like you were dragged in by wolves."

Indeed, we did, with our tattered, war torn uniforms. As the four of us went out separate ways, I knew another battle was coming. Fear started in my chest and spread outwards, coiling itself around me like a hungry snake. Another battle with Teresa lay ahead. I could feel it.

I dreamt of her that night, which was a rather odd occurrence. Remembering dreams had never been something I was able to do, even as a child. In a way, it made sense. Teresa was someone who could never be forgotten so, naturally, a dream that contained her probably wouldn't be forgotten, either.
The dream was about when I had first arrived at the Organization. After the horrid operation where yoma flesh and blood was placed inside me, I was put in a cell with several other young girls. They were all huddled together, sharing bits of food they had stored and sobbing on each other's shoulders. All of them were so tight-knit that I was afraid to approach them. I sat with my back pressed against the bars of the cell, my legs tucked in neatly under me. "Oi," someone said, and I rolled my heavy head toward the source. A girl about my age had crawled from the other end of the room, and was on her hands and knees before me. I blinked, studying her warily. Hair hung from her scalp in wavy locks, falling around her delicate shoulders. One could barely tell what color it was, since it was caked with dried blood and dirt. "What's your name?" she asked, smiling.

"I… I-Irene," I told her. It felt strange talking. My throat was hoarse and I could barely get my mouth to voice my own name.

"Nice to meet you, Irene." The girl held out a dirty, scarred hand toward mine. "My name is Teresa." Carefully, I extended my hand forward, slipping it into hers. She grasped it tightly, shaking it up and down. Her hand was rough and calloused, reminding me of sandpaper. Would my hands become this rough? "Ya know, I have some bread left over from my last meal. Want some?"

"That would be… lovely." I said, appreciating the kindness she showed toward me, a total stranger.

Teresa scuttled away into the darkness, returning with a small hunk of bread. She tore it in half, handing part of it to me. I took it, thanking her before I bit into it. The bread was stale, but I didn't care. I was so incredibly hungry.

That was when the dream ended, and I woke. I sat there, peering into the darkness around me, comforted only by the cold sword behind me. Did I really want Teresa dead? A sigh left my chapped and bleeding lips. I did not. Teresa was my first friend within the Organization. Given the opportunity, I wouldn't have the balls to behead her. Then, a strange thought crossed my mind. Would I get away with abandoning the Organization, just as Teresa had done?

My fingers rested on my emblem, tracing it robotically. Teresa, or the Organization? The question was not difficult. Making up my mind, I pulled my blade out of the ground as I stood.

"What… what are ya doin, Irene?" Noel asked sleepily, rubbing her eyes.

"I'm going for a walk," I lied. "I'll be back shortly." I returned my claymore to its sheath, walking out of the doorway and towards freedom. The few low ranked warriors that were present saw my mark and didn't dare stop me. My march towards freedom was a peaceful one.