"I am the mess you chose,
the closet you can not close,
the devil in you I suppose -
'cause the wounds never heal.

But everything changes if I could
turn back the years,
if you could learn to forgive me,
then I could learn to feel..."

-Staind

Lizzie woke still wrapped in Fred's arms. She sighed contentedly and closed her eyes for another minute, perfectly content. She opened her eyes...no, not quite perfectly content. She moved back far enough to focus on his face in the flickering firelight. He was still sleeping peacefully. It wasn't morning yet, but already the gray sky outside the window was streaked with faint pink clouds. Dawn would be breaking any minute, and morning would take him away from her yet again. Her fingers traced lightly over his brow, down his cheek, and along his jaw, grinning as he stirred slightly but didn't wake. She raised up from his arms and bent over, kissing his lips gently once, then again, and again until she felt him waking and his lips moved gently against hers.

[What is it with you in the mornings?] he asked, drowsily.

[Are you complaining?]

She felt him smile against her lips. "No." He nuzzled her neck, breathing deeply of her scent-something he had feared he might never experience again and slid his hand down her side.

[You don't seem t' be wearing much today.]

[I can fix that,] she teased, moving away from him and reaching for her dress.

He rolled over, pulling her underneath him and pinning her arm down before it touched the article of clothing in question with a speed that took her breath away. "I don't think so."

Lizzie glanced at the window. The sky was light outside now. "You're gonna be late."

"That's okay," he said. [I'll just blame it on you,] he thought as he kissed her deeply.

Lizzie tangled her fingers in his hair, pulling him even closer. [You're terrible.]

[You married me.]

Time passed.

Fred tossed Lizzie her cloak as they got ready to leave. "Go ahead, I'll catch up."

She felt oddly that he was hiding something from her. "That's okay, I'll wait for you."

His eyes met hers and held them for a moment before walking silently over to his pack and removing something that Lizzie couldn't see. He knelt down and she saw what he'd taken from his pack. It was a knife, but not an ordinary knife, it was a huge hunting knife with a blade that had to be at least ten inches long. He stuck the sheath of it into his boot, fastened the top of it around his calf, and pulled his thick leather pants down concealing it. She'd never seen him carry anything outside of his sword. The understanding of where he was going and what he was going to do rolled over her like a black storm and left her shaken.

[I'm sorry, Lizzie. Just think of it as insurance.]

She shook her head, tears in her eyes. That wasn't it's purpose, and he couldn't hide the truth of it from his mind – nor from hers anymore. [Don't tell me that. Tell me the truth, or tell me nothing.]

He came back to her and took her by the shoulders. "I'm not going there for revenge, Lizzie, I swear to you, but I will do anything and everything it takes to protect you and my child."

She couldn't remember anything about Iracebeth from before, but she felt the depth of emotion the woman stirred inside him, and she knew it was a long and bitter past. She put her arms around him tightly and he held her for a moment.

"I love you, Lizzie. No matter what happens, please never forget that."

"I know, Freddie. I love you, too."

Fred and Lizzie joined the others waiting in the square. The mood this morning was somber with half of the village leaving again. Fred's group was already mounted and waiting on him.

"I guess I'd better go," he said, turning towards Lizzie.

She took his face in her hands. "Please be careful."

He hugged her tightly to himself. "I will, I promise." His attention was caught by the other women who were watching them and beginning to whisper amongst themselves. [I think you'll be too busy explaining this to worry about me.]

[Explaining what?]

He took her face in his hands and kissed her soundly. "That. Be back before you know it," he grinned, before releasing her and joining the others.

Fred's band of clansmen numbered twenty-five, counting himself. It was a bleak morning, the sky overcast with thick clouds that promised more snow as the day wore on. Below them, the ground reflected the dull sky so that it seemed to be neither day nor night, the gray nothingness stretching out in every direction. He focused his mind on the fortress, willing himself not to lead the men astray. He'd never wanted to be a leader, and yet he found himself here, before a ragged band of farmers turned soldiers pressing their way across the frozen plains of the Outlands. As he rode, his thoughts turned to brighter memories; the Crimson Sea on a summer night and the breeze that blew over the water, leaving the taste of salt on your tongue; the mountain top in the Outlands at sunset, the clouds stretching as far as the eye could see, weaving amongst themselves in brilliant hues of purple and pink; the sounds of the forest at night, full of hidden life. Of all those thoughts, none came without the thought of her by his side. Lizzie, his love, his life - who had saved him from himself when he was lost in the darkness of his past, and now a child who by all rights he should never have been able to father. For them – for their future, he would do whatever he had to do. He had told Lizzie the truth when he'd said he wasn't seeking revenge. The pain that had once blinded him had been swept away and healed, and though there were scars, both visible and not, that would always bear the memories, it was love for his wife and child that drove him today.

[Can you still hear me?] Lizzie's voice rang through his mind.

[Yes.]

[What have you been thinking about? You're all happy and sad at the same time.]

[Remembering better times. I just wish this was all over with. I want to go home.] The wind dried his tears before they even left his eyes.

[It won't be long. Somehow, someway, everything will work out.]

[I hope so. We're almost there. I'll need to concentrate, so I'll have to stop talking.]

[Okay, be careful.]

[I will.]

With so few guards at the castle, Fred had the men ride their horses through the wood until they were within sight of the fortress. Here they dismounted and he led them up to the tree-line behind the castle. He cast outward with his mind, towards the courtyard and beyond - inside the walls. He traced the faint thoughts of the soldiers through the keep and inner courtyard, trying to keep track of the number as he went. He counted eighteen. Only one was stationed on the ramparts. The rest seemed to be gathered mostly around the main gate, which was fine. He didn't plan on using the front door. The barracks abutted the fortress proper at the rear. Fred looked up at the wall they were directly behind. The roof was low enough to be easily gained here, but they would have to take out the guard on the ramparts to have any chance of stealth at all.

"There's one guard on the wall," he told the men.

A man who'd brought a crossbow volunteered. "Where's he at? I'll need to get a clean shot."

Fred grimaced, keenly aware that he was about to facilitate someone's death. How he wished Illynyr was here instead.

Sensing Freddie's hesitation, one of the older men laid his hand on his shoulder and stepped close to him, speaking soft enough for only him to hear. "'Tis nay easy, lad, t' hold men's lives 'n yer hands," he said. "Th' men who swore themselves to th' Nor' did so o' their own free will. Th' armies march across Underland, but here t'day - mayhaps a twig can stem th' flood."

Fred nodded and took a deep breath. He thought of Iracebeth's army, marching towards Marmoreal. If there was a chance they could stop it here today, it had to be taken.

"Around to the left side, stop by the big twilla tree and you should be able to see him."

The man nodded and disappeared into the woods. Several minutes passed and then the subtle click of a crossbow echoed through the valley. Fred waited until the man returned before motioning the others up onto the roof of the barracks. Quickly they ran across the top and hoisted themselves over the battlements and onto the top of the fortress wall.

"Iracebeth is in the keep," he said. "If we can get in quietly, without alerting the rest of the soldiers, we'll have an easier time defending ourselves. There's not more than twenty soldiers in the whole fortress."

"There's a door on th' rear, if we can keep th' yard cleared o' soldiers, I think we'll be able t' take it easy," said Gareth.

"I agree," said Fred. "There are seven of us with bows, so three can go on each side. We'll need one to come up with us in case with need it for th' bird." Fred split them into two parties and sent one around to the ramparts on the far side. He turned to the others. "Let's get the ropes and get down there."

The men had brought ropes with them which they now fastened to the battlements and scaled down the wall into the inner courtyard. They saw no one as they drew their swords and crossed to the base of the stone keep tower. Fred motioned them to stop outside the closed door. Mentally he searched the other side and found nothing was as easy as it seemed.

"There are five or six on the other side."

They looked around at each other. "Well," said one of them, "We aren't gettin' anywhere standin' outside th' door."

Fred slowly turned the handle. It was unlocked. "On three," he whispered. "One...two...three." He threw open the door of the keep and nearly had his head taken off by a huntsmen who'd been waiting behind the door. Fred brought his sword up to defend himself while trying to move out of the doorway so that the others could come in. His sword rang out against the huntsman's again as he fought for a better angle. Out of the corner of his eye he saw that three more of his men were engaged with the soldiers. He looked in vain for any weakness he could exploit in the huntsman he was fighting, but the man was larger than himself and obviously well trained. Fred wasn't a bad swordsman, but he was at a disadvantage with the short sword he still carried from the guard when he and Lizzie had escaped. He noticed his opponent was getting very close to his fellow huntsman who was fighting behind him. Fred lunged at him the best he could and the man bumped into the soldier behind him, loosing his concentration on Freddie for a split second. It was the break Fred had been waiting for and he plunged his sword into the huntsman. He left it there and picked up the long sword the huntsman wouldn't be needing anymore. The others seemed to have overpowered the soldiers who had been in the lower level of the keep, but now reinforcements were arriving. Fred's next opponent wasn't as talented as his first and he dispatched him rapidly. He did a quick count of dead or dying soldiers. There were six huntsmen and three of their men who hadn't made it – a heavy toll on the small group, though they still outnumbered the north. There was a lull now, those who'd come in to reinforce the others must have been in the keep itself, not from any other part of the fortress. He didn't sense anyone else except Iracebeth and one guard on the upper level. He left ten of his men in the lower keep level to stand watch for more soldiers and he and the remaining five headed up the stairs to the throne room. The guard outside the door didn't have time to make a sound before they dispatched him.

Freddie turned to the others. "Find the heart. Leave Iracebeth to me."

[Lizzie, I'm going to take off my promise ring until after I find Iracebeth. I'd rather talk about it later.]

He felt her confusion and concern, but she didn't argue with him. [If you need to...]

He slid the ring off his finger and slipped it into his pocket before he opened the door and led the men in, down the black carpet leading up to the throne.

Iracebeth was startled by the sudden appearance of Freddie, most certainly not a prisoner this time, leading a small band of farmers into the throne room.

"Guards!" she shouted. "Guards! Get in here this instant!"

Freddie smirked at her. "Sorry, Your Majesty, they couldn't make it."

Iracebeth got up and moved behind the throne, putting it between herself and the red haired man walking purposefully towards her. "Stop!" she cried. "Freddie, wait, just stop!"

"I've come a long way, why don't we have a little chat first?"

Iracebeth turned and ran and Fred ran up the stairs and after her down the hallway behind the throne room. She turned into a narrow staircase, barely wide enough for one person, and climbed the stairs, disappearing around a corner.

Fred followed her up, paying no heed to the alarms in his head as he turned the blind corner at the top to find himself alone in a room no larger than a walk in closet. The door slammed shut behind him, and he realized he'd made a serious lapse in judgment. Just because Racie wasn't carrying a weapon didn't mean she was unarmed. He turned around in time to get a face full of spray from the atomizer in her hand. His vision swam and he fell to the floor.

Iracebeth took two lengths of rope from the table in the room and knelt down beside him.

"Don't worry, Freddie, it only lasts for a minute."

True to her word, the paralysis only lasted about five minutes, but by that time she'd already bound his hands and feet. She watched him with a bemused expression as he struggled to get up and finally managed to kneel in front of her.

What the hell had he been thinking? Surely he knew her well enough not to run blindly after her. He struggled against the rope, but she'd done her knots properly.

"What did you think?" she asked. "I'd let you run me through?" She picked up the blood-stained sword and chucked it out the window.

"That wouldn't have happened if you'd surrendered," he seethed.

"Well it's not happening now, either."

Iracebeth knelt in front of him, studying his face. She'd changed her appearance since she'd been the Red Queen, and though he'd seen her when he'd come to find Lizzie, he'd hardly paid it notice then - now he did. She looked so much like she did when she was younger, with her head a normal size and her crimson hair flowing in curls down her shoulders. She wore no makeup. It reminded him of her before – before she'd succumbed to the madness that had infected her mind, when she'd been the closest friend he'd had. It had been easier to face her when she'd been the Red Queen, when she'd looked nothing like the girl who had betrayed him so long ago.

"Poor Freddie...you know, it didn't have to be this way." Her fingers traced his cheek gently for a moment, but her voice became harsh, "But you're too...DAMN...STUBBORN!" She slapped him hard across his face.

Fred grimaced at the taste of blood in his mouth. "Racie, if you're going to kill me, just do it and spare me the theatrics."

She smiled coldly, and quashed the brief flicker of pain that always came with seeing him again. He and Mirana were the only one's who still dared to call her by her old name and hearing it brought back memories that she had no use for anymore.

"Oh, I'm not done with you, yet. First, I want to show you something." She stood and walked over to a shelf behind her. As soon as her back was turned, two mice who'd been watching from the rafters scurried across the boards and dropped down onto Fred's shoulder.

"Be still and we'll get you free," one whispered timidly before they scurried down his back, one setting to work on the rope binding his hands, one his feet. Fred had never had much personal experience with other creatures outside of those at Marmoreal and sketching them in their habitat, but he wasn't about to complain.

Iracebeth took down a small box and turned back around towards Fred. She took out a large crystal and set it on the floor in front of him. A faint greenish light glowed from within the stone.

"Do you know what this is?" she asked him.

"Enlighten me."

"It's your wife's memories. Everything is here, perfectly preserved. I have to say, it worked quite well, though I should have locked the bitch up instead of letting her roam around," she mused. "One of the ravens brought me word of what happened in Southern yesterday. A very clever trick. Was it your idea, Freddie, or perhaps that bright eyed boy that they follow around like little puppies?" Fred didn't answer. "No matter, we'll go back for them later. Perhaps in about five months or so." She drew a small dagger from another fold of her dress and toyed with it. Her eyes met Fred's. "I'm sure the child will ripe enough to pluck from it's mother's womb by then."

His face flushed with anger, but nothing she said surprised him anymore. "There was a time when I trusted you," he said quietly. "Before you made it your life's mission to torture me. Do you remember, Racie? There was a time when you were happy."

"Don't get all gushy on me, Freddie. That person is dead and if she stood before me today, I'd slit her throat and put her out of her misery."

Her words mocked him, but underneath Fred felt a thread of doubt creep through her. He pushed on. "I remember a time when you wanted to know what it felt to fly, so we snuck some upelkuchen out of the kitchen and smeared it with honey and waited until a butterfly came and tasted it."

Iracebeth's eyes gazed through him, focused on the memory, as the madness briefly cleared. "You forgot the pishsalver to make him small again, though," she whispered.

"You're right, I did. Do you remember, Racie? You were happy once...you could be happy again. It's not too late to stop this." She stared at him for a moment, but he could tell the magic was over. The black beast that preyed on her soul once again filled her mind.

"Do you know what memories are good for, Freddie?" she asked softly.

"What?"

Swiftly she grabbed the iron doorstop that sat against the wall near her and brought it down, smashing the green crystal. "Nothing." She closed the distance between himself and her, leaning forward to whisper in his ear. Her right hand traced along his neck with the dagger leaving a thin line of blood in it's wake. "I will give you a promise, though, before I send you on your way," she murmured. "I swear to you, your child will live or die by my hand."

As the point of the knife stopped just above his jugular, he felt the rope around his feet and then his arms go slack. He grabbed her right wrist, twisting it viciously until she screamed and dropped the blade. She fought him like a wild animal, clawing at him with razor sharp nails until he managed to push her backwards, tackling her and capturing her other wrist as well. He pinned her to the floor, holding her body down with his as he sat astride her. Their eyes met and time stood still as he hovered mere inches above her. The irony of their positions didn't escape Iracebeth's notice.

"Are you gonna' kiss me or kill me, Freddie?"

He passed her left wrist to his other hand, freeing his right hand to unbuckle the hunting knife he'd stashed in his boot that morning. Her eyes grew large as he drew the blade.

"There was a time, believe it or not Racie, when I might have picked the first one. But, like you said – I was just a boy, and that girl is dead."

"You won't kill me," she whispered, "you can't do it. Not you."

His eyes never left hers. "Today I can."

The knife found its mark and he slid it slowly, gently, like a man entering his lover underneath her sternum and up towards her heart. She closed her eyes.

Freddie leaned over her, his lips whispering softly in her ear. "Open your eyes, Racie...I wouldn't want you to miss anything."

She gasped and her breath caught in her throat as she looked at him, bewildered. A trickle of blood ran from the corner of her mouth and down her neck, staining her hair an even darker shade of red. He felt her mind clear once again of the madness, leaving her shaken and afraid. Her eyes filled with tears as the memories of all she'd done to him came flooding back. She choked on her lifeblood as she tried to talk.

"F..r...ed..die, I...I'm...ss...orrr..."

He pulled the knife out and cast it away, his tears falling on her face as he closed her eyes. Before all that she had done to him - had planned to do to him and to his family, before the madness had stolen her mind so long ago - she'd been his best friend, his confidant...a sister to him. Now in death, her mind freed from the prison that had so captivated it in life, he found that he could finally grieve for what he had lost, and for what she herself had lost so unwittingly. He climbed off of her and took her in his arms, smoothing the crimson hair from her face.

"Be at peace, Racie," he wept. "Please be at peace."