Two blue lines. That's all it took to change Ingrid's world.

–

Tucking the jacket more tightly around her, Ingrid bowed her head against the rain as she walked up the front steps of her mother's house. Even as her eyes caught sight of the front door she used to open every day, it felt different. Everything felt different. She was a stranger in her own life. That's why she had to do it. It was time to move on. Time to do something...else. She smoothed down her coat, feeling the edge of the envelope tucked neatly inside. It wasn't going to be easy to say goodbye, but she knew this was what she had to do.

Stifled voices filled the Beauchamp house as she pushed open the door. She'd been surprised to see so many faces at the funeral. Considering Freddie had only been around for a matter of months, she didn't expect many people to care that he'd died. It goes to show how little she expected from those who lived in East End. The guests were scattered about the house. In the living room with Joanna, the kitchen with Freya, and standing about the hallways looking at pictures. They would catch sight of Ingrid and give glances full of sympathy. She didn't think she could stand it. Not with what she was about to do.

Ingrid took the stairs slowly, pulling the letter from the pocket of her jacket as she hit the landing. It was hard to think she may never return. Who knew where life was getting ready to take her? She turned right at the landing, passing the closed door to her old bedroom. Ingrid paused, wondering if it looked the same as it had a few months ago, before she moved out. Her hand rested on the doorknob. Had it been this easy for Freya in past lives to go off on her own? Ingrid was the one who usually stayed nearby. She never wandered far, in fear that Joanna may need her.

The closest she even got to that was the life she met Archibald Browning, ancestor of Killian and Dash Gardner.

She pressed her palm flat against her belly, resolving to do this. If she walked into that room, there was a chance whatever lay behind the door would keep her here. She had to do this, regardless of the consequences. Someone touched her shoulder. Ingrid whirled around, her breath catching in her throat as she saw the figure standing there.

"Gosh, Killian," Ingrid breathed out. "I didn't even hear you." His eyes were wide and curious as he looked at her.

"What are you up to, Ingrid?" His tone was a little more accusatory than she expected of Killian. She plastered a false smile on her face.

"Just trying to...digest everything." She glanced about the barren hallway, wondering what Freya's boyfriend was doing up here himself. "I was going to see if Mom was in her room-"

"She's downstairs," Killian finished. He stared at her for a moment, before his eyes faltered. "I'm sorry. I think we're just all on edge-" He cut himself off. "That message on the floor of Fair Haven has us all a little worried."

Ingrid nodded, understanding his fear. "Yeah, 'Death to Witches'. Not exactly subtle." She shifted her weight from one foot to the other. Why did she feel so uncomfortable around him? Killian had always given her a sense of peace, from the moment she'd met him. She gave an uneasy smile and glanced around the landing, wondering herself what he was doing up here. "Why are you up here? Shouldn't you be with Freya?"

There he went again, staring at her. The way he'd looked at her over the last few days unnerved her. He tilted his head to the side very slightly. "I haven't had a chance to extend my sympathies. I wanted to make sure that you knew... if you need anything, I'm here." Ingrid blinked, trying to shake that odd feeling.

"Thanks, Killian," she remarked. "If you'll excuse me." She wouldn't be able to make it to her mother's room with him watching. She moved to walk past him, back toward the stairs, but felt his hand grip her wrist.

"What's the envelope you're holding?"

"Envelope?" She questioned, her voice an octave higher than normal. She stepped back from him and he released her wrist. "Oh. This? It's just a letter."

Killian narrowed his eyes at her. "Why would you need to write a letter to Joanna?" Then, like the sunrise, her departure dawned on him. "Where are you going?"

"I'm just...leaving," Ingrid said, averting her gaze. The last thing she needed right now was a lecture from someone who, to her knowledge, tended to run away from his own obligations. "With everything else going on, I knew she wouldn't take the news well. So I wrote her a letter, to make sure she knew it wasn't her."

"Have you been to see Dash?"

"Dash? Why would I go see Dash?" Ingrid asked, too defensively.

"I'm sorry, I thought the two of you were close," he said, shaking his head.

"Yeah, too close apparently." She lowered her gaze, finding a wave of guilt roil through her gut at the thought of the older Gardiner brother. It started out with her just wanting to help him. She understood what it was like to have weird things happen. Things you didn't understand. Sure, he killed a man, but it was in her defense. He was scared and confused and Ingrid saw a lot of herself in him. She understood the madness within. He thought he was going crazy and all she wanted to do was help. She didn't expect for things to go as far as they did.

Did she love Dash? Ingrid didn't know. She'd only been in love once. With Adam before he died. Even then, it didn't go as far as she and Dash had gone. And now she was pregnant. By her estimation, it was only six weeks. She had time to make up her mind on what she wanted to do.

"You're pregnant?!" Killian blurted.

Ingrid's eyes grew wide. "What? No!"

"I can read minds, Ingrid," he said, shaking his head. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Why would I?" Ingrid hadn't even told Freya or her mother. With Freddie and Aunt Wendy both gone, her family had enough drama going on to last a lifetime. Too much had happened. The last thing she needed was to stress her family out more than was necessary. It was crazy to think that things were back to where they started. Just she and Freya and Joanna. But nothing was the same now. She lifted her eyebrows, expecting a response but the look in Killian's eyes confused her. She could tell there was something he wanted to say, but he didn't. Instead, he exhaled.

"You wouldn't," he relented. "But you should tell Dash."

"How the hell would you know that? Did he tell you about that night?" Suddenly, Ingrid felt cold. It reminded her of when she went back to see Dash and found him with another woman. She felt used. Alone. He didn't want her. He wanted a cheap thrill and that was what he got.

"That's not what you were to him."

Ingrid exhaled sharply. "Okay, first things first, get out of my head." Now. She thought emphatically. Killian put his hands up. "Second, Dash is in prison. For murder. I haven't decided what I'm going to do with it. And if I don't keep it, I'd rather he didn't know at all. And if!" She saw Killian open his mouth to interrupt her, but she pointed a finger at him. "And if you don't swear to me right now that you won't say anything to him, I will erase your memory." Her brow knit together as she felt the weight of her secret crashing down on her.

The truth was that Ingrid was terrified. She was terrified of making the wrong decision. Terrified of becoming a mother. Terrified of having this life linking she and Dash together forever, knowing that he didn't care about her like she wanted him to. Terrified of disappointing her family because of her feelings for Dash, who used his powers for evil more than once. Terrified of allowing herself to care for him, regardless of the way he'd treated her.

"I promise," Killian said. His eyes softened; hers filled with tears. She leaned against the rail of the stairs, feeling lightheaded. "Are you okay?" She shook her head as she looked up at him.

"I don't think I'll ever be okay again," she admitted.

Then she felt warm arms wrap around her shoulders and pull her close. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, Ingrid didn't feel so alone.

–

While the gathering was winding down, the storm outside continued raging. Only a handful of guests remained, and they were off in the living room with Joanna. Ingrid stood at the sink absentmindedly washing dishes. "Ingrid, what are you still doing here? I thought you were heading home?" Freya's voice snapped her from her thoughts. She'd been staring blankly out of the window, watching the storm. She looked over her shoulder at her younger sister, offering a half smile.

"I was, but then it started raining worse so I figured I'd stay a little while longer, help out around here," Ingrid admitted, turning back to the sink.

"Hey, we haven't had much chance to talk," Freya reached out and placed a hand on Ingrid's arm. She looked down into bright, blue eyes. "You okay?" She exhaled and grabbed a dishtowel to wipe the water from her hands. Ingrid leaned back against the sink.

"Yeah," she lied, but at least it wasn't an obvious one. "How about you?" She frowned. Freddie was Freya's twin. No, they hadn't known he existed for long, but she couldn't imagine what her sister was feeling right now.

"I don't know, to be honest," Freya admitting, glancing about the kitchen. She leaned against the kitchen table and crossed her arms over her chest. "I'm sad, all the time," her sister said quietly. "You'd think since I have Killian back, that wouldn't be the case, but I am." Ingrid heard a long exhale of breath. "Something just feels off about all of this. I thought Killian would help me through losing Freddie and Aunt Wendy, but-" She sighed. "I don't know. Maybe this is just a stage of grief I'm not used to. Nothing feels right."

Ingrid nodded. "I know exactly how you feel," she admitted. "The world seems so different than it was just a week ago."

"That was the last of them," Joanna said, entering the kitchen. Ingrid poured her mother a cup of coffee as Joanna sat down at the table. Ingrid thought of the letter that was still sitting in her jacket pocket. She'd leave it there tonight, before she left. Worst case scenario, she could send it by a spell. It wouldn't feel so right, but she had to do it.

"Mom, what are we gonna do?" Freya asked, sitting next to Joanna. "About Wendy?" Their mother exhaled and took a sip of coffee, smiling sadly.

"I'm not sure what we can do," Joanna admitted. "I've called on Helena, my other sister. She's ignoring me."

"Well, if we go to the underworld, maybe there's a chance we can save both of them. Freddie and Wendy-" Freya sounded so hopeful.

"Then we would have to find something to trade that's worth two lives," Joanna said, shaking her head. "The only thing that would be worth two lives is the King. And he's dead."

Ingrid knew all too well that a balance had to be maintained. After all, she lost Adam because she used a resurrection spell on Wendy. "If we had him, we wouldn't need to barter with Helena," Ingrid said. "Because he could bring them both back to life. Like he did with us." Her gaze met Freya's.

"Well...what about Tarkoff?" Her sister suggested.

"But you guys left him in the 1840s with no way of getting back. He's probably dead by now," Ingrid interjected. "You barely made it out of there alive, Freya."

"But if we could find him?" Freya questioned.

"That might not be a bad idea." Their mother was obviously lost in thought. "I don't know if that would get both of them back, but I don't think it'd be completely useless."

Ingrid looked between the two of them, wondering just why they thought Tarkoff might be a bargaining chip. "Helena had a thing for that weasel." She snorted in response to her mother's revelation. "He didn't give her a chance. He was obsessed with me and Victor. Sometimes I thought it was more because of Victor." Joanna shrugged and straightened up, stretching her back. "I don't know." Killian entered the kitchen.

"Looks like the storm has let up, I'll head home before it gets bad again," Ingrid remarked, immediately turning her attention to her mother and sister. She felt the lump form in her throat and instant hesitation surged through her. She could feel Killian's gaze on her the entire time as she crossed to her mother and gave her a hug.

She turned to Freya, wishing there was more time. Wishing she didn't have to say goodbye. In this life, she and Freya had been closer than she imagined they ever could be. Perhaps their non-magical upbringing allowed them the time to form the bond they'd lacked in previous lives. She would miss her mother, of course, but it was different with her sister. Her best friend in the entire world. The only other person who saw her for who she really was, with and without magic. "I love you," she whispered into her sister's dark hair.

Ingrid would miss Freya the most.