The blue light of the room struck her as eerie the second time she entered. Her eyes were instantly drawn to the bulb, peering into the murky depths, trying to make out the figure that resided within. She saw nothing. Whoever lived there was hiding from her, and she could not blame them. She didn't tend to be nice to people who ran screaming from her, either. Actually, she had been known to kill them, just out of spite. Her steps slowed a bit as she pondered this fact, but she forced her pace to remain steady as she continued her walk.

Her steps were slow but unfaltering as she forced herself to the back of the room. Her hand tried to shake as she reached out for the railing to the steps, but she forced it still, trying to ignore the butterflies in her stomach. She was strong enough to handle this. This was her new reality, this whole plant thing, but it wasn't going to hurt her. No one was going to put her in a bulb. She would be fine. There would be no changing, no shifting of her form from one familiar to one alien. She was going to be just fine.

She found herself paused on the top stair, and forced herself to get moving again. She worried that she might have stood there a long while, arguing herself into moving forward. She hoped that Knives was still preoccupied; this moment was not for him, and she would hate to have him barge in. Time had seemed to stop there, for a moment that could have been seconds or minutes, for all she could tell in retrospect.

Moving around the platform, she found where Ace lay sleeping, then sat with her back against the railing and watched her. She still looked positively precious, innocent and harmless, her still, small form curled slightly. Feathers wrapped themselves around her body like arms holding her tight, and for a moment Kiley wished that she could hold her, just once more before she left. Then she pushed that thought away, unwilling to dwell on what seemed to her to be an inevitable future around so many mind readers. She was fairly sure of her ability to keep her thoughts private, but it only look one slip to make her life more difficult.

She hated that this was goodbye. The silence of the room was oppressive, pushing down on her. The blue light pulsed slightly about her, unwelcoming, and she knew that Shamra, for all that she was still hiding, had yet to forgive her. Her eyes drifted from Ace's still form to take in the rest of the bulb. She had to force herself to scan the area, but she saw nothing. Tension danced up and down her spine, and she wondered if it was for the better or worse that the plant stayed hidden.

Scooting forward slightly, she inched closer to Ace until only the glass was in her way. One hand reached out, pressed as close to the glass as the heat would allow, and she sighed. This was too far away, and it was as close as she could get. A tear threatened to fall, but she forced it away. She would not mourn her decision; that would be tantamount to admitting she might be wrong to go. But oh, how her heart ached all the same. Leaving, for whatever reason, was awful.

She didn't want to go. She wanted to press against the glass, melt it away and take Ace in her arms and never let her go. She wanted to open her heart and her mind to both of them, to stop hiding, stop running. But she couldn't. She had a plan.

And it wasn't like the reasons for her leaving were all things she could change. Regardless of her species status, Knives was still going to want to wipe out a mostly innocent population. She could not let that happen. And he was right, the plants were being abused. She wasn't going to let that exploitation continue. And she could not fix the problems of the world from the comfort of this ship, from his arms. No matter how much she may want to. It wasn't possible.

She sighed again, sitting back on her heels. Just when she could be happy. Just when life could be perfect, or almost. She had to go and grow her conscience back completely, to finally admit that society had a right to demand a portion of her time and effort. She understood, in part, Knives' desire for an under populated Eden. Fewer demands on her time, to be sure.

She scowled slightly, more a wrinkling of her brow than a proper frown. Someone was probably laughing at her, amused by her pain. As a matter of fact, she was sure of it. Someone probably took great glee in dangling her fondest wishes in front of her and forcing her to choose between what was right, and what would make her happy. It was just the sort of angst ridden decision that would appeal to a meddling, interdimensional being who seemed to delight in playing with her emotions.

She scowled more deeply, then a flicker of movement brought her out of her reverie. Her head shot up and looked directly into the eyes of Shamra. The scowl melted off her face, to be replace by a more sheepish expression.

*I'm sorry,* she sent.

The plant just looked at her, eyes solemn.

*I was wrong to react the way I did. If it's any consolation, it had much less to do with you than it did with me.*

Feathers swayed slightly. Kiley didn't ask for forgiveness, and none was forthcoming, but Shamra did not retreat, either. The tableau was static for a decent span of time, then Kiley rose to her feet, turned, and walked out of the room. She did not look back.